the creek.

This photo, one of the earliest on my computer, was taken during Spring break in 2007. We are halfway through our seven day stay in Indian Creek, Utah, a climbing mecca just south of Canyon Lands National Park. Various pieces of climbing gear, both ours and borrowed (thanks Ryan), lay scattered in the shade of the huge slanting slab of red sandstone behind me. The white book with a blue spine, solitary picture on the cover and large red block letters for the title was a gift to me from my friend and neighbor at the time, William. I read it constantly during that trip, while on the road, or watching someone else climb. It still remains one of my favorite novels of all time. It is The Rum Diary by Hunter S. Thompson. The brown pullover I am wearing was soft and comfortable and from J.C. Penny in Billings. Unfortunately, I would mysteriously lose it sometime in late summer 2009. The Chacos I am wearing are still around, though they are much farther from the end of their life than at the present, though I still wear them regularly.

My cousin Zach stands opposite me preparing to climb a wide hands crack called Mud Slide (5.11). Little does he know that the three Black Diamond #3 Camalots on his right side are not going to be enough, he will end up running it out near the top. Another thing that Zach doesn't know at the point this picture was taken is that he will take a long fall near the top of the climb, causing him to hit the big slab behind me, and be caught by a poorly placed, over-cammed Rock Empire; being the largest piece, it was employed for a crack wider than its proper range.

Inside my stomach a battle is raging between the green pepper refried beans I had just eaten on a large 10” tortilla and my natural digestive process. I was given (every morning around 8:15, and always much too far from the fixed Forest Service type bathroom) good reason to believe that my stomach and subsequent parts were tired of the food and physical stress I continually put on it throughout the trip.

Other interesting things to note: the open sore on the back of my left hand (a byproduct of crack climbing), Zach's red rope bag (which his mother hand made for him, quite the bit of handiwork!), the Black BD wired Hex named Michael, and Zach's figure of 9 knot (at the point where he is tied in), which I just found out two days ago that he has always used this knot to tie in with.

Everything in this photo still exists, except for a little piece of Zach's confidence that was undoubtedly left in the dusty crevasse as he free-fell only to be saved by a magical piece of protection, our 10.2mm Beal rope, and my alert belaying.