Weekend Warriors

It may have been the perfect recipe - the Colonel himself (oooh how i hate the Colonel) with his 11 herbs and spices may not have been able to conjure up a better concoction of how we spent our time this weekend.

The REI in town was having it's garage sale on Saturday, and i contemplated it for a number of minutes in bed that morning.  I was sure that there was already a line, and i was sure that it would be cold outside of my bed, and i was sure that i didn't want to discover what the people on our corner were actually selling (free coffee, apparently), so i decided to do the mature thing, stay in bed, and not spend money.

Eventually I arose and began the packing process for our trip out later in the day, and when the Bishops showed up with Bella in tow, we settled down and watched the Spartans win back the 'Ol Brass Spitoon from those philistine Hoosiers (and subsequently win me breakfast next week).  Sometime that afternoon we actually left the house and headed down to the Monastery campground via directions from friends who had been there before.   The spot is above (literally) the town of Drake, 10 miles East of Estes Park on Highway 34, directly along the Big Thompson River.  

This particular camping area has a well earned reputation for rowdiness and being nothing but  a party spot, but when we arrived just before supper on Saturday night there was only one other group was there, and they seemed a sensible lot.  They in fact asked if we would like any extra fish from their evening fishing trip, and were kind enough to share a few extra rainbow trouts and crawdads with us when they returned.  Brian was truly the crawdad expert. 

We got some new neighbors, though, sometime between sitting around the campfire and going to bed, that personified the earned reputation to a T.  Maybe the universe just likes to keep things in balance, and had we had a quiet night that didn't involve listening to these other folks music, their horrible barking dog, loud conversations and even louder sex, then we would been setting our following climbing day up for disaster.  Regardless, when we woke up to the calm of the day, with the sun low in the sky and painting Long's Peak (I don't know if i mentioned that if the spot we picked for our tents and fire was drop dead gorgeous or not, but, it was) we found the following note on our windshield from our new favorite neighbors:

Yup.  Brian and Sarah eagerly left us to our slow(er) morning pack job for a trailhead in Estes, and once we were ready for our day to begin around 9 am i tapped on the non-creepy Honda...  and tapped again...  then the dog they had with them in the car started barking loudly in their faces...  and i tapped again....  and again...   and they woke up!  We gave them a jump and went about our day, knowing that we had done our good deed for the day and could now get back to being normal.

The monastery is a sport climbing area that we've been wanting to climb for two summers now.  We got some recommendations from Kate and Mark as for what climbs to seek out, and we began down the valley wall and up the other side, and about an hour later we were in front of striking slabs rising severly from the ground...  We began in the Outer Gates, a bastion of moderate, well protected and pinchy routes at the edge of the climbing area. To be as Dylan-like as possible - here's what we played for the day:

Table Wine, 5.7-

Not too long, and one of the easier rated climbs on the wall, i geared up and began on our first climb of the day.  It's a pretty pinchy, balancy affair for a 5.7, and is runout for about 20' between the third and fourth bolts, but is a good entrance for the day.  

About halfway up the route though, the singular thought comes to me:  this is the very first time that Liz and i have been out climbing completely by ourselves.  Let alone climbing in an area we are not familiar with, but we only have each other to get up and down these things with (hopefully) all of the gear we brought with us.  I swallow hard and tell myself that it is ok that i don't have Mark or Adam or Dylan hanging out below me to give a hand if i have to bail on my lead, because i am feeling good and there is no reason i won't make it to the top.  

I manage to work through these frenetic thoughts and reach the anchors, and liz follows and cleans.  But the fact that we are running without the safety net of having more experienced friends has been faced and mentally sorted -- the rest of the day can now begin.

Pandora's Pebble Pinching Party Palace,  5.7

When we asked Kate what routes to look for, she exuded glee in pointing out this route - though it may have simply been for the audible alliteration - it was actually for the knobby, balancey route with just the right amount of traverse to make things interesting.  Great route.

Monastic Groove, 5.8

After a quick lunch break, this three star stem-fest calls my name on the next door rock.  The protection is great, the moves much more varied than the first two routes on the day, beginning with stemming and half-mantles, crossing a jugfest roof and ending with a jagged 25' hand crack. Another fantastic route.

The Hot Zone, 5.9-

We packed up and were headed for the Sepulcher, when the only other climbers we had seen that day affirmed my question of whether they were on the Hot Zone, and then informed me that i needed to climb it.  Turns out; they were right.  A well bolted, long arete with a number of perfectly placed alligator cracks for fingers and toes pumps me out for the day but rewards with one of the best views of Longs Peak all afternoon. (note:  that is not Longs below this paragraph.  Thank you.)  Liz seconds it like a champ and upon lowering we both feel very accomplished for the day.

Another hour of hiking out leads to a celebratory meal of fried chicken and sweet tea at canes. All told, we ate our burned calories back, but a weekend could really taste no sweeter.

(all the shots from the weekend are over here)