Creeping Chasms of Chaotic Delight

All right kids, gather round the screen. Is everyone ready to hear about my latest trip? I can hear the clickety-clack of your keyboards typing the letters, Y-E-S-!-! from here so I’ll begin.
Boulder, Colorado is a magical place. A mere 20hr. drive from Seattle, as the crow flies, and well worth it. Accompanied by my brother, who we shall call Jacob, and his wife, who we will also call Jacob(2), or rather Margielize. We drowned out the deafening silence of boredom with the musical stylings of Tenacious D, Michael Buble, Classic Jazz, Cold Play, and the random selection of music and fuzz found by twitching the radio dial to and fro. We laughed here and there, slept, ate and drank, but mainly stared at the GPS screen counting the grueling miles between Seatown and the land of genetically perfect mutants(is that a paradox?), a.k.a Boulder. We were shacked up at the Golden Buff, a nice little joint replete with continental breakfast items, springy fold out couches, and the occasional Swedish orgy in the hot tub(don’t ask). We crashed at three in the morning, woke up and immediately cruised out to the old neighborhood. It was just as we had left it.


Margielize and the back of our old house.

Literally. Except we weren’t living there anymore. The sun was ablaze, the grass was green, and it was a thrill to re-visit the house in which we had spent 6 long years of our boyhood. I even managed to send V.tree.


Me, in the tree!

We drove around oohing and awing at how little everything had changed. Kind of comforting actually. It was a perfect snapshot in time of when we used to bomb down the steep hills on our mountain bikes, blast the soccer ball back and forth in the spacious field behind our house; and we took pride in pointing out the many houses that once belonged to our long lost friends who had lived in the neighborhood. Jacob remembered the way back to his old friend Jeff Lee’s house and indeed the Lee’s still lived there. Jeff, now long gone, working as a computer dude for Lockheed Martin in Taiwan, was my brother’s best friend while we lived in Boulder. Fortunately his parents remembered us and we ended up arranging a dinner date for the following Sunday. With a full list of things to do, people to see, and places to go we were off once again. The first day was filled with nostalgia as we picked up a friend of Margielize’s at the airport and continued on our blast from the past themed vacation. The Boulder library, Boulder creek, bike trail, and Pearl Street were the main attractions.


A fishing pond by the Boulder Canyon bike trail.

And let’s not forget Old Chicago’s Pizza. I think my taste buds exploded from the sheer euphoria of orgasmic, unbridled, and utterly concentrated deliciousness of the food. One marginally talented street juggler later and we found ourselves locked in battle with the fold out couch of the Golden Buff.


Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm...



The outdoor theater on the CU campus, where my father has acted several times in the past.


A message of hope on the CU campus.


Saturday started out as an adventure to find crash pads. My brother and I made our way to Neptune Mountaineering while his wife and her friend went on their own way. We scooped up some pads(not cheap!), and swerved up the tightly hugged curves of Flagstaff mountain, cautiously avoiding runners and bicyclists alike. There everywhere!!
There are no pictures of this stop because I left my camera back in the hotel room. Anyhow, I shredded some tippage at Cloudshadow, an immense piece of rock home to some of the more famous(read: hard) lines on the mountain. I managed to get scared on the highball nature of the V.1 there, but I did pull off a send of Hagan’s Wall, a crimping masterpiece, as well as some of the other moderate lines. Delicate, somewhat glassy in places with a split finger crimp at the top, I pulled over pleased, and ready to move on. I tried Just Right, figuring I could easily polish off this two move power problem. I was wrong, in fact I had to stack two pads on a rock just to reach the starting holds, and the top out didn’t look so inviting either. I managed to hit the slopey pocket 5 or 6 times but my feet flew off of the overhanging wall ripping me off the hold with them. Ho hum, I wanted to seek out the problem I came here for anyway. Hollows Way. Notorious for the grade, infamous for the landing(?), now I’m just making stuff up. It was a beautiful looking line, in the guide book, and one that decided to play hide with no seek that day. I ended up wasting an hour of purely good bouldering time looking for that stupid line. My over priced guide book indicated that it was just up from Capstan rock but we hiked the meandering trail only to end up at Red Wall and the Amphitheater staring down at a Hollow’s Way-less field below. In anger I tried a cool looking refrigerator arête that went at V.2. Needless to say in my chipmunk rage I got my ass handed to me. It started to rain, my brother pointed out a foot hold and I sent before the rain got any worse. Session over.
The last part of the day was spent with my bro hiking up the Chataqua trail in between the first and second Flatirons. We were almost to the top of the trail when thunder and lightning set in and a drenching rain poured over us. We were greeted by a fast moving, somewhat experienced looking hiker nearly running in the opposite direction. ‘You think its okay to keep going?’ I asked him, ‘Not unless you’re lightning proof!’ he retorted as he sped off down the trail. We casually started walking back down only to increase our pace drastically at the sound of a rather loud thunder clap. Don’t worry we made it down alive.

Sunday was a trek to Winter Park. In the winter it’s a dope ass ski resort, but in the summer it’s still a dope ass ski resort only with no snow. We were there to dominate the Alpine slide, and if you don’t know what that is you’re not cool enough to read this blog. A large fiberglass pipe snaked its way down the immense snow-less slope, and we were hopped up on low oxygen, and childhood memories, ready to throw ourselves down it. Between runs we managed an overly priced cheeseburger (around $4,000, thank god they let me take out a loan to pay it off), and I got to destroy the overly polished outdoor rock wall. I Sharma growled my way to the top of each line, YES in my TENNIS SHOES! Suck on that Ondra. As I left the wall burning in my glorious wake I may have peeked over my shoulder only to see a 7 year old double dynoing up each line; I did not return. All in all we stomped out 11 laps on the alpine slide, the record is 26 but that guy is a loser. And headed back to Boulder only to be treated by the Lee’s to a 10 course Chinese dinner. I had food creeping back out of my throat at the end. Mrs. Lee ordered in Mandarin and the waiter just kept on bringing out dish after dish. Mongolian beef, Chinese basil chicken, honey walnut shrimp, fried prawns, spring rolls, some type of noodle dish with chicken, beef, prawns, and veggies, honeyed tofu, steamed rice, cilantro/onion/chicken soup, and some sort of beef soup concoction that I was stupid enough to try. The broth consisted of magma, fire, red hot coles, chilies, chili seeds, and dragon’s breath. After I regained consciousness(I blacked out from the heat) it was clear that we had made the right choice in having dinner with these two wonderful people. The Lee’s are number one in hospitality, and for three hours we ate and engulfed ourselves in conversation and laughter. After the meal we also saw a movie, UP, pretty entertaining.

Monday we set out to Estes Park, home of RMNP. A small town with awesome views and world class bouldering a mere 20 minutes in every direction. We met up with a friend of the friend of Margielizes who turned out to be my future wife. Aaaahhhhh…Chamilla. She teaches 8th grade science over the school year and on her summer break works as an EMT park ranger for RMNP. I’m in love! Her energy was invigorating, and I tried to make stupid jokes just to hear her laugh awkwardly in between bites of a huge Belgian waffle. We followed her back to her place and she heaved piles of clothing at us since we were grossly under-dressed for the cold temps and windy affect of the higher altitudes of RMNP. She also bestowed upon us her free pass into the park, saving us $20! As she waved goodbye from her 4-runner I mouthed the words ‘I love you’, and I could have sworn I saw her give me a thumbs up as she drove off in the distance, or maybe she was just adjusting her rear-view mirror. Anyway, we made it into the park and I saw some freakishly cool looking boulders off the side of the road covered in chalk. We drove on by, my mouth gaping.


RMNP


RMNP ranger station.


The trail up to the summit.


Who is that handsome looking man?


Peeking between the rocks.

Swirling up the mountainside were views of snow capped mountains and frozen lakes. We made it to the summit ranger station, also home to the ‘Café in the Sky’, and made the short walk to the summit, a mere 12,000 feet in elevation. After the hallucinations of god massaging my brain subsided due to a lack of oxygenated blood pumping through my veins, we trekked back down the mountain and stopped at a meadow full of grazing elk.


We were greeted as liberators.


Is he...?


Velvety.

We finally made it back to Boulder in order to hike up another trail to scope out some boulders. We arrived at Chataqua just in time for a monstrous thunder storm. Triple, and even quadruple bolts of lightening entertained us as we waited for nature’s temper tantrum to subside. I kept saying, ‘It’ll pass in twenty minutes.’ And for once I was right.


The Flatirons, from right to left:1st, 2nd, 3rd.



Why it's good to wait to hike until after the storm is over.

We hiked up the trail with a double rainbow at our backs. When we got to the boulder field I ran around gawking and gaping at the boulders totally psyched to come back the following day and get some bouldering in.


The foothills shrouded in the aftermath of the rainstorm.


Jacob and Margielize.


J and M.

Tuesday. My bro and I rented a pad and panted our way up to the boulder field we scoped out the day before, known as the Satellite Boulders. The Sattelites are a collection of boulders nestled between the second and third Flatirons. The approach is steep, infact I’ve never done so much work for a few hours of bouldering. However it was worth it. The rock is top notch. A hybrid cross of Smith Rock-like volcanic tuff, quartzite, and Maple Canyon-esque conglomerate (this last part makes it sound like choss but it’s far from it!) We started off at the Stardust boulder where I did a few problems including the stellar Aerogel. Jacob even managed a V.1! Nice!


Me going horizontal on Aerogel(V.5)


Making the lunge!

From there we sampled a lot of moderate problems. I tried a V.8 called Face Full of Brian but didn’t manage to stick the crux move. According to my guide book there are only maybe 20 problems up here, but according to the internet which I cruised the night before, there are between 90 and 100, in this one area! Leavenworth aint got nuthin’ on that!


Jacob crushing at the Sattelites.




Me on Re-Entry Burn(V.6), and the backside of the BBC boulder.

The best boulder I saw that day, was ironically labeled in the guidebook as the Best Boulder in the County(BBC for short). Many striking and hard lines crimped and sloped their way up this overhanging beast, Grundel City Boy(V.9), Balance in Nature(V.6), and The Turning Point(V.9, actually located on top of the boulder on a mammoth sized pillar that fell over and created a nice over hung slab of rock) were all spectacular to see. However the spotlight most undeniably fell on a problem called Fleshfest. This amazing highball prow left me speechless. V.10 from the low, and V.6 from the high, it was streaked with red, black, and tan hues, as well as lichen. The pictures don’t really do it justice:


The essence of a boulder problem.


Me straight wimpin' out!

Fleshfest is one of those lines that inspire you to climb, regardless of the grade. I had to try it at least from the stand start but only having one pad and a nasty crippling fall below I backed down. I would be willing to come back just to try and climb this one line. Perfect.
The day jogged on by, and as my skin got thinner and thinner we finally hiked back down and hung out at Chataqua, pleased to have spent the last day of our trip in one of the most beautiful places in Boulder.
That last night we walked up and down Pearl Street and took in an amazing street performance by none other than the world class juggler Derek-Derek. As he ridiculed passers-by for not stopping at his show, made jokes, and kept the mood humorous and up-beat, he also juggled fire vigorously, included members of the audience in his show, and flung his ‘diablo’ high into the air only to catch it on a wire thin piece of string behind his back. It was a perfect way to remember the trip and add another chapter to our book of memories surrounding Boulder, Co.


Goodbye Boulder! I will miss all of the stunningly hot women, finely sculpted boulders, and spectacular views!