RED ROCKS 2002

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 Ass In The Morning (Kelly Franz)
  Although my ass was still sore from being kicked so thoroughly on Dream Of Wild Turkey, I left Red Rocks in December 2000 with aspirations to climb The Prince Of Darkness. So on the cold morning of our second day I was well up on the second pitch of superb crimpers with Conor, ruing the decision to link the first two pitches. Since I am a double rope retard, I found that clipping our ropes--Baby Jesus and Satan--was just like macrame, only easier. After 180 feet, the rope drag was practically enough to pull off my pants. A feat, I discovered, that Kelly can manage without any drag whatsoever.

A question was raised about what is in the nature of a classic route. The Prince Of Darkness forges a direct line through the centre of the oppressive, looming Black Velvet Wall. Somehow, miracle edges appear here and there to allow passage through a sea of steepness. The positions on this route would rival what I imagine must be contained within the pages of the Kama Sutra. Is it a bonfide classic? Well, I have renamed the route The Joy Of Sex.

On the third day of lumpy oatmeal and slick armpits, I was lead by the Spirit to Crimson Chrysalis. At this time, let it be said that our illustrious guidebook author Todd Swain is a special sort of person. Since I first laid eyes on his guide, I have tried to figure out why he has written a guide instead of someone else. Was it money? Ambition? Boredom? In my longstanding search for his motive I have concluded with some authority that he was not chosen for his great gift of communication. Conor and I spent a half hour stuttering about the base of Crimson Chrysalis, looking around for something that looks even remotely like a 5.9. Since that time, I've taken the liberty of annotating the guide:

Splitting the centre of the tower is a heinous and unlikely looking crack that sputters into a steep and blank-looking face. It is exactly because it looks so unlikely and forbidding that the moderate Crimson Chrysalis is a classic route.

 


   

  "Then Jesus was lead by the Spirit into the desert to be tempted by the devil."

Matthew 4:1

There was a day when the girls in England used to call me "rugged". I had long hair, stayed up late, drank a lot, got stoned, and went on long weekend trips without showering. Although I still drink and stay up late, I have a hard time going a day without a shower. Some people might call it getting soft, others may call it getting married. But it seems that now, when it comes to testicle sweat, I've Lost That Lovin' Feeling. So, our fingers aching, we took a rest day and headed into town to shower and soak in a hot tub. We burst into the locker room and found the tub as empty as the day it was made. I went back to the counter and asked if they could fill up the pool.

We should fill it with concrete. It hasn't worked for years.

We headed back down Charleston Blvd., stopping in at the Salvation Army along the way. It was amazing to me that a second hand straw hat will draw cat calls on the Strip at night.

 

 

  Checkmate, mate (Conor Reynolds)


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