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Posted: Mon Oct 17, 2005 1:06 am
by lordjim_2001
Meadows wrote:I think gettin' some play at the crag would make a perfect climbing day. :shock: :o :D
Well shit yeah. That's my idea of a great day.

Posted: Mon Oct 17, 2005 12:49 pm
by Christian
Alll of the above. 8)

Posted: Mon Oct 17, 2005 1:02 pm
by Sunshine
I'm 51 and sunny.

Posted: Mon Oct 17, 2005 1:12 pm
by Wes
So, according to this line of reasoning, men really do get hotter as then get older. I am not doomed to 35 and cloudy forever!!

Posted: Mon Oct 17, 2005 2:03 pm
by merrick
man everyday the red is my favorite day of climbing at the red

Posted: Tue Oct 18, 2005 2:43 am
by dipsi
Wes wrote:
So, according to this line of reasoning, men really do get hotter as then get older. I am not doomed to 35 and cloudy forever!!
Nope! Nothing sexier than a fit, mature man! :twisted:

Posted: Tue Oct 18, 2005 5:16 pm
by Ascentionist
Sending Jungle Beat, Nevermore, The Quest, Excalibur, The Prow and Tower of Power like I was a 5.13 climber.

Or climbing cool new routes out in the middle of nowhere.

Posted: Fri Oct 21, 2005 10:40 am
by Jerry Bargo
One partner who is willing and able to stalk silently into the woods so that not so much as a wren knows we are there.

Nibbling the whole time on the tender greenbrier shoots of spring AND the raspberries of summer. (Since this is the imaginary, perfect day, let's not be restricted to just one season.) Seeing a buck laid up in his day bed. Witnessing a wasp and a praying mantis engaged in mortal combat.
Ascentionist wrote:climbing cool new routes out in the middle of nowhere.
Yeah! In the crisp, clean, dry days of autumn while taking in the changing colors from a hanging belay under a roof just 15' from the top of a 200' cliff. Not a road, building, or tower in sight. Not a sound of human kind - no cars, no rednecks, no sirens, no airplanes, not a whimper from you partner. Just the birds, squirrels, breeze, and tumbling leaves.

The golden glow of sunset on the butress as we rappel. The sense of discovery as we find another old moonshine still site, archeological site, or relic at the bottom. The sweet relief of peeling off the climbing shoes and putting on a warm, dry shirt.

Hanging out chatting quietly as you share the last of your lunch and treats. After darkness has settled in, we begin our reverant, 1 mile bushwhack back out on a cloudless night as a full moon baths the nearly leafless January forest, reflects off of the snow, and illuminates the hunting fox on the other side of the draw.

Arriving at the car, we find all windows intact and sip Ale81 as the tribal rythm of Nancy Rumble keeps our minds in that meditative state until our stomaches can be properly appeased by El Camino Real in Winchester.

Posted: Sat Oct 22, 2005 3:15 am
by dipsi
(sigh)