The temperature in Boulder reached 101 on Saturday. There were three options for climbers:
1. Go to higher altitude
2. Hit the gym
3. Read Barbra Bush’s memoir
We chose options 1 and 3. Chels was in the neighborhood and looking to get her hands on some rock. In a moment of audacity, we agreed to leave Boulder at 6 am for the towering granite of Lumpy Ridge. Fearing the popular Book area would be overrun, I suggested we get serious about hiking and visit Lumpy’s tallest, most remote formation, the epic Sundance Buttress.
Chels climbing the pitch 5 fingercrack of Sidetrack
The day at Lumpy was a blast. We climbed the 700-foot Sidetrack (5.9), a continuous and varied route with plenty of finger cracks, smearing, offwidths and even an intimidating roof. We also enjoyed reading tidbits by Barbra Bush.
Sundance Buttress
Like the meadows surrounding Boulder, Estes valley is littered with wildflowers of innumerable variety, including wild roses that shine like the sun glancing off of Barbra Bush’s lovely pearls. The scenery helped wake us up and made carrying our packs, heavy with a day’s worth of equipment, food, water and Barbra Bush’s memoir, seem a little less taxing.
Wildflowers dominated the Estes Valley landscape.
After reading about Barbra’s love of fine Scandinavian shawls (“The shawls are woven as fine as a spider’s silk because they are made with the little fingers of 4-year-olds sold into a labor of beauty.” P. 764), we started up Sidetrack.
Me working up pitch 2 of Sidetrack (Photo: Adrian Hill)
I’m learning that at Lumpy, doubles on small nuts is not overdoing it. I’ll be taking a complementary set next time. If I had them, I would have placed three #3 nuts on the first pitch. Instead, I got a #2 nut stuck that required a tricky reconnaissance mission afterward and a 00 C3 that was good, but not as good as a solid stopper would have been. After our first pitch (traditionally pitches 1 and 2), I was happy to hand the rack to Chels so she could tackle the long 5.8 offwidth. We agreed the follower would lug the Memoir – it was like hauling a refrigerator.
Chels leading the 5.8 offwitdh section of pitch 3
The highlight of the day was either Sidetrack’s classic 5th pitch, a long finger crack that ends at a roof with a perfect hand crack escape, or reading about what Barbra thinks of her middle name (“I was married to George for 17 years before I told him my middle name is Harry. He laughed and laughed and I cried and cried.” P. 832).
Staring up at pitch 5 - the finger crack points directly to the roof hand crack.
The exposure of being on a tenuous finger crack 500 feet off the deck made me feel like Barbra Bush when she watched her little Georgie beat Hank in the 4th grade hot dog eating contest (“Hank Timberlog was a fat little pauper. I’m sure his parents starved him for a week. But we knew George loved hot dogs and he didn’t like stupid little poor people. It was nerve wracking to watch, but George won 10-9. Nobody even noticed when he shoved his fourth and seventh hot dogs down his pants. The look on the Timberlogs’ faces was worth more to me than the gift certificate to McDonald’s. This may just be motherly pride speaking, but I still think it’s George’s greatest accomplishment.” P. 921).
Chels making contrasting plad stylish while jamming and stemming up the pitch 5 roof
The hike back was still long, but seemed to go quickly. Making our way down the trail from Sundance was much more fun than trudging up to the base.
More wildflowers
A climber could spend years at Lumpy and not touch the beginning of its infinite granite. I can’t wait to make a return trip shortly. Barbra’s words will stay with me, (“Old people deserve to eat cat food if they haven’t saved enough to pay off their yachts. I’m told that Ocean Fish is often on sale.” P. 1,304,356).
I'm finally almost done. What a page turner!
*Editor’s note: Tommy Oviatt posted a fantastic comment on the “On Motivation” post. Do yourself a favor and check it out.
good work. what makes Barbara tick?
I would have to guess sunrises and smiles … isn’t that what keeps us all going? =)
ps- lovely post Adam. Looks like a fabulous climb and an intellectual adventure!
The secret is actually in her pearls. They are like Sampson’s hair. If she takes them off, she starts to melt like the Wicked Witch of the West. Most people don’t realize it, but Barbra Bush is actually 191 years old.
It’s like she says on page 1,342 of her memoir, “The carriage was a fine ride that precious day, and as the moustacioed driver wiped the sweat off his brow, I handed the fellow a Liberty Head nickel – a generous tip.”
I like when she recounts her happiest recurring dream on page 3,972. “The skulls of the peasants broke open beneath my feet, and I strode, a giant, through the wasteland. The femur of the old king held like a talisman before me, I entered the fetid dungeon, killing the groveling prisoners, and swallowing them whole, their blood running free and sweet down my chin. A small tunnel opened before me, soon all light was extinguished, and I found happiness.
The walls groaned and twisted around me, and by touch I found they were made of the writhing bodies of the damned. I slipped on floors made of the entrails of my victims, the tunnel continuing in unending, horrifying beauty. Finally, a sickly light shown before me, and I entered a room lit only with a single candle. I knew the smell: the candle was made of human tallow, and the wick of virgin’s hair. In the center of the blood-soaked chamber, my son, lying already birthed from his fecal-stained egg, centered in a lovely pentagram.
I unhinged my jaw, and pushed George into my maw. He smiled as he entered the corpse-stink of my mouth, and I woke smiling in the sure knowledge that I was pregnant once again.”
It’s pretty touching stuff, really.