We got to the site late Thursday night, threw up our tents and settled down for an early morning. There was a huge chance of rain starting Friday afternoon and running through the weekend, so we wanted to get in ahead of that. After a legit Breakfast of Champions at IHOP (natch), we hit the rocks. I actually was shooting my friend Marcy for a project I'm working on, so I can't share the photos I took on my Nikon. But I did remember to whip out my iPhone for a few snaps here and there.
The rain started mid-afternoon on Friday, so we headed back into town for burritos and beers at Black Bear before returning to camp. The rain let up just long enough for us to get a fire started and a tarp hung over our picnic table, so we sat around under the tarp until the fire finally petered out.
Naturally we geeked out over the boulder for a bit, then we hiked out. It was short, but kind of brutal — just one long, steep hill. By then, some of the high-sun areas had dried out a bit, so we climbed a bit. Spent most of the afternoon just lying around on the crash pads, though. That's where I found this lil guy:
And since Saturday was the fourth, we did the most American thing we could: Sat around a fire with a few beers and some whiskey!
I was just so excited to get back on some real rock for more than a few hours; it's been months since I've done any good climbing. And I have to say too, camping is starting to grow on me. I mean, we car-camp, so things are still pretty cushy. I was never outdoorsy as a kid, but something about sleeping in a tent in the woods is strangely calming for me now. Isn't it funny how things like that change sometimes?