Found myself at Alton Baker Park – not usually thought of as a destination climbing area. The IOP students , my-only-friend-in-the-entire-world-Jeff-Hess, and I were journaling and reading essays. Eating free Granny Smith apples that I’d gleaned by the dozens from a tree in the local dog park (the park I call “Dog Poop Park” for obvious reasons). Situation normal.
Nearby were boulders. Almost 6-feet tall. Epic.
No climbing gear on hand, shoes came off, and sit-start possibilities were created. We drug through warm-ups, then harder and harder possibilities.
At one point, a student named “The Birdseye” muttered, “I better hop on the sending train.” It was that sort of afternoon.
Although my-only-friend-in-the-entire-world-Jeff-Hess left early and doubted the limitless possibilities of two 5-foot-9 boulders, Danny Danny, The Birdseye, and I persevered.
Three good sends and one super-proj later, we posed for the following forearm pic (majestic, intimidating basalt boulder in the background):