Has anyone told you how devilishly handsome you are today? If not, let me try to put it into words: It started with ultimate, pretty standard looking back at my climbing partners. Lacing up at yellow springs for some pickup, my hands were covered in chalk with the katanas hanging out of my bag. You inquired “do you climb?” And that was fuckin it. Enter Esteban: the devilishly handsome fighting engineer, involved in ultimate and climbing, yea this is gonna work. You gelled right away man, fitting in with all the “bro stuff” shit at krag and joining us on that first trip to the red.
After our second trip down to the gorge, you sent out the most amazing email: the initiation for that first big trip to Potrero. The powerpoint was true to your style, building hype for tall limestone routes (that wasn’t John Bryan) and taking due to care to call out the abundance of beverages we’d have the pleasure of enjoying. Also, can we talk about that for a second? What the hell were we thinking? We had climbed literally two times outside on ropes and we decided a multi pitch trip out of the country was the next step. Here’s to you my man.
That intro to bolted long routes was spectacular, and thanks for making that trip happen. Except for the part where I had to return those empty Indio 40s and attempt to receive some amount of change (while only knowing how to tell them they were pretty). I could have done without that. With beer on the mind, I think it’s fitting we flip the script here and just throw out a few defining bullet points: <insert mini rant - I can't format a fucking bullet point on this site.... so enjoy your less than beautifully formatted "poser list">
Food beers. Climb beers. Board game beers.
Ok, now that that’s out of the way, and tall mijo would have no way to identify us without those defining characteristics, remember that brochure from “Chutney’s”? All those overly cheerful people zip lining and taking in everything the new had to offer? We got them pretty good with our mockery. That was certainly the only thing that was memorable from West Virginia. Nothing else. Particularly nothing related to our sleeping arrangement, some weather that rolled in, and something about tent poles. No way to be sure.
After talking up Potrero, another trip was in the books and I think this is where another bulleted list would come in handy (if I could format it as such):
Clamatos. No bueno. Chiladas. Bueno.
JB’s car dying in the canyon. No bueno. Hearing the roar of his exhaust approaching over liters of margs at La Posada. Bueno.
It’s been far too long since you’ve been lowered off the wall with us having to hear “I’m so strong!” Or “I was waiting for the hard part, but then I was at the chains”. We’ve both been riddled with our fair share of injuries that has kept us down, but thank god for board games and bud light lime. I don’t know how to wrap this up, and I believe leaving it open ended is appropriate. There should be no closure here because I’m still hanging the flat brim on the idea of the trips that have yet to come.
Go Packers!
Fudge
Ps, do you think that Sasquatch burger from Colorado has completely digested yet?