Viva Mexico Cabrones!

 

Not a lot of places bring the Buena Vibras like Mexico.  With a glaring lack of regulations, this still developing nation has plenty to teach us about good living and having fun, even if it's only Tuesday.

Portrero Chico is gifted with an abundance of quality limestone which developers have bristled into submission allowing for a true placer experience.  Don't be fooled, loose rocks, infantile climbers and tepid decision making could have you involved in a near miss or worse, faster than you can say Andale!

                                                   Kirk and Stef enjoying Yankee Clipper

Stocking up with my truck,  note the fixed Rosary on the rearview.  Guaranteed to prevent speeding tickets and rollovers.

Johnathan from La Belle Province sampling stupendous stone on the Outrage Wall

I took to solo climbing with a rope on the well equipped multipitch routes, it's always nice to learn something new.

                                               Good positions, mediocre company


Sadly, climbing alone caused a mild case of Selfie-itis...

                                                        Look at me! I'm rockclimbing!

                                                           Spot the tiny climbers up left


It wasn't all lonesome days in the Portrero, I got to session with some sweet folks, old friends and new.

                                       With Kirk at the Fitness Cave

                                         Simon amidst mystic conditions

                                          Clipping chains at the Surf Bowl

Look very carefully for Sunny and Paul abing off Time Wave Zero

                 
                           Few days would end without a stern talking to from El Cabrito.

                                                      Or Rico Tacos!

Elotes! Imagine taking a perfectly good char grilled corn cob, then brushing on some of that orange liquid cheese you find at 7-11.  Next, you mount the unsuspecting Maiz with Mayo, chilies and crumbled goat's cheese. Enjoy!

 Folks live a bit more ruggedly than we do in Squamish.  But happiness in these parts seems contagious.

                                           Fixed taco trailer with satellite dish, check.  Rubber.... nah.

These Mexican Pitons were a real highlight!  Much like the Cathedral Spires in Yosemite, Mexican pioneers climbed the Agujas well before the big walls.  These relics are from a 1962 ascent of this lovely tower.

                              Paul, a pioneer in his own right, keeps it new school

                                                                      Chilies!

                                                      Cynthia dancing in the light

                                                  A wee bit of potential nearby

                                                     Muy Amable Mexico!

Roadtrip Second Act

Just outside Zion, the high desert is deeply enchanted





At the gates of Zion; Soul brother, Sean Stanley Leary, came to rest in these hills. There's been a lot of loss and hurt in our little climbing world lately, it's always hard to accept and harder still to understand the heavy burden of life and death. Somehow, Trent Reznor's eerie Lyrics help:



I hurt myself today

To see if I still feel

I focus on the pain

The only thing that's real

The needle tears a hole

The old familiar sting

Try to kill it all away

But I remember everything


What have I become

My sweetest friend

Everyone I know goes away

In the end

And you could have it all

My empire of dirt

I will let you down

I will make you hurt


I wear this crown of thorns

Upon my liar's chair

Full of broken thoughts

I cannot repair

Beneath the stains of time

The feelings disappear

You are someone else

I am still right here




Everyone has their moment during this brief performance called life, then, who really knows....







Bridgedale, Springdale, Squamdale, Pleasantdale, Clydesdale, you get the idea


After lots of deep thoughts we got back to some rock pulling in one of the prettiest, most unique climbing venues in North America: Maple Creek Canyon




The Conglomerate here, is as good as the mythical Mallos de Rigolos in Spain, but sadly not as huge in the freestanding tower kind of way.



All the same, the stone is distinctive and a real pleasure to climb on



Someone even practiced pictography here, waaaaaay back when. Is this some kind of sophisticated symbolism or just the work a prehistoric prankster with too much meat in her belly?



Finally, we made it to the epicenter of flying in America, Point of the Mountain, where we met this guy. With a shit eating Cheshire Cat grin he vigorously shook my hand and said: "I'm Lance!" Lance went on to explain that the year I was born, he made the first EVER cross country hang glider flight from the nearby Camels. I congratulated him on still being alive. What a #boss



Lance stepped into the sky with a poetic style that you can only comprehend when in the presence of a true master.



Point works as well as any site I've flown and inspite of the crowds and urban infringement, there is something special about this place.



It was a great trip with fine company and good vibes all around... Thank you America!

Roadtrip!

On the tail end of Bishop's Highball Craggin' Classic put on by the AAC, I posse'd up with Cody Sims and Luke Neufeld to get in some dusty road trippin'.  We tacked out a few Sierra pitches before leaving, because, como no? Look at that stone!

                                       Look at those vistas under that moon!!!!

Next Stop was Vegas, which in my mind is always synonymous with sleeze.  But the Vegas area does have some soul, as evidenced here by Brette, taking her lickin's on the ruggedly named burlnanza; Monster Skank.

 Just a few miles asunder from the infamous Strip, Marc-Andre hones his kite 'nique, hounded by Seuss, the dog.

Windsports became a theme on this roadie, we are after all, climbers who climb, but the skies whistled their sirenic melodies, tempting us to glisse above the rocks.

                                                     

                                                           Cody soaring Jean's ridge

Perhaps the best bit of Americana we encountered on our journey, the Pioneer Saloon.  Though the staff were nouveau tatooed and sporting coiffed beards and greasy crop tops, this place had an authenticity to it that has long been buried under the crisp, homogeneity of the nearby Vegas tarmac.

Bring your own moonshine, literally!!!

                                When these barrels get unlocked, it's sure to go off!!!

But I digress... After a skunking at Jean's Ridge we chanced an evening flight in the hills outside Goodsprings.  The valley restitution cranked us hundreds of meters above the launch for one of the funnest flights I've ever had!

 St. George, Utah was next.  The limestone in this zone is hard to hold on to, in part because it's slick from traffic, but also on account of all the fist pumps you throw while climbing.  Luke couldn't resist demonstrating the classic elbow down fist pump entering the crux sequence on this beauty.

                                     More good Americana: Caffeine = Safety.   So true...

Storytelling

Telling a good story is hard to do.  So often, humans get "inventive" and find a story where there isn't one.  Digestible, compelling, dramatic, the more bullshit the better...  In my raft guiding days, stories were important; good stories got you good tips and a Welshman by the name of Dirty Tim was our resident master tale slinger.  The more tall tales Tim slung, the more money he made while the rest of us guides kicked dirt beside the river and watched the procession of guests slap another finski into Dirty Tim's dirty palm.  Anyway, I don't love the modern media approach to storytelling and the fact that if you want to share your experiences with people, you need a "story."  In the timeless words of Homer Simpson "It's just a bunch of stuff that happened."  So here is some of the stuff that happened this spring.

Colombia:  Coffee anyone?  Locals brew coffee more like tea and imbibe this Tinto all day long.

Climbing on the Mesa de los Santos.  Thanks to Netflix, we expected a stressful Cartel style experience but the vibe could not have been more tranquillo.

We went to the opposite side of the Mesa and flew into Canyon de Chicamocha, the Earth's second largest Canyon.

     Next up, the mysterious Mavecure Hills.  Cosmique, barely begins to describe this place.

                              You could really feel the Buena Onda from the hill people.

                                                          Petroglyphs are my favorite!!!

                                      Flying from mythical domes is a close second...

                             Climbing onto giant a waffle iron from the jungle ranks third.

I've never loved fishing, but I love to eat the fish.  This Barracuda-type thing, literally jumped into our canoe and to defend myself (?!) I delivered a fatal blow with my paddle.  Sorry buddy... I never got to taste this little guy, he was in the soup and down the hatch before we got home.  Fishing, is likely how story telling began.

Or was it from mountain climbing?

                           
                              Colombia is quite a place:  Bogota street art is next level!

                 
                          After Colombia was South Africa.  This photo tells the whole story.

 Climbing with my European friends was not like being on a holiday, rest day activities included: packing for the next mish, ferrying a load to the base of the wall or more commonly, climbing.

                              The crew halfway up the wall at a commodious bivi

                        We opened a new route on a big cliff made of Quartzite, the stone of Kings.

Rock quality, check!  After sending this pitch, Seppi yelled down:  "Paul, I feel naa-sing"  Slighlty confused, I though my friend had morphed into the achetypal German nihilist.  What he really was trying to convey was that he got threshold pumped.

This is Hilton Davies, he's the nicest man in Capetown, a South African climbing pioneer with more psyche than I had at 18, and more good stories than most will accrue in a lifetime.

                  Most of this country is made of Quartzite but at Paarl Rocks it's pure Granite.

This zone has never been in vogue compared to say, Rocklands, but no instagram = no worries, you'll have this enchanted place to yourself.   As you enjoy the incredible freeclimbing here, remember, Nelson Mandela served several years of his 27 year prison term in the nearby village, just for being a brother.  Slightly tougher than the Dawn Wall I imagine.

                  Never miss a chance to fly from a granite dome...Thank you Mama Africa!