Monday, July 6, 2009

4 hours to Flagstaff.


What can I say? I love Priest Draw... probably because when it comes to bouldering I love everything I suck at (slopers, horizontal roofs, toe hooks, etc.) The four hour drive from Vegas is sort of boring. Luckily Pilar volunteered to drive the entire Route 40 stretch. Lots of cops with their fancy 2 inch sirens that are hard to spot. Four hours and two turkey sandwiches later, we finally arrived at "the draw". I started warming up on some zeros and ones. And then the thunderstorm started. Noooo! Pilar and I fled to the Bat Roof to wait it out and struggle with despair. Well at least I despaired, because I wanted to try Anorexic again, and the top out would now be wet and slippery.

But it didn't matter because I didn't get it. Stymied by the crux foot cut, my screams from trying to hold the foot cut echoed through the draw for a good second. Undaunted by my fledgling core strength and terrible campus abilities, I hurled myself at it from the start over and over again. I can't figure out how people (shorter women?) put a left heel hook into the starting hold. It looks super positive that way, but I just can't get my foot in that shit.

Afterwards, we went into town and had so-so tacos at locos tacos or tacos locos or something like that. I fucked up and ordered a "Grand Canyon raspberry wheat beer." What the fuck was I thinking? Then Pilar ordered what tasted like an alcohol free margarita. In fact, it had such a paltry effect on the spaniard, she promptly drove to an Albertson's supermarket, purchased a bottle of Freixenet champagne, and started swigging directly from the bottle in what she termed was an effort to "get totally fucked up."

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