Ready for the spotlight

Madeline did this all by herself today!
(If you can't tell, it's her name. Madi, with a long "a", lol)
Way to go girl.

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Blood, Sweat and Ink: Part2

Yesterday I got to finish my sleeve down in Salt Lake. At 7 straight hours (with only three 5 minute breaks!), I think I reached my max and am glad Taki finished when he did. My left foot was starting to twitch and with each passing stroke of the gun, I kept hoping that it was the last one.

For a cover-up, Taki did a sweet job. My only regret is I wish I was starting from a clean slate and not covering up 3 good sized tats. However, what he was able to design looks 100% better than what I had on there before. Plus, it now has meaning.

Not to step on any toes, but the whole skulls and "hardcore" ink is just not for me anymore. Not to say there aren't sweet tats out there of that style but to me skulls, spiderwebs, etc. aren't part of my lifestyle, I guess you could say. Maybe it's that I'm not "hardcore" or something. Who knows, but that art doesn't mean anything to me.

Most of my family and friends don't care for tattoos and I'm fine with that. But some of them need to realize that just because they don't understand it, it doesn't mean its wrong. It's O.K. to NOT understand some things. It's what makes us individuals and unique.

Also, I think as long as your ink means something to you then that's all that matters. I know a friend who has a ton of ink, some good, some bad. His perspective is that each tat reminds him of a certain point in his life, kind of like a time line, or, road signs, as he called them. Makes sense to me.

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Tour of Cedar Creek

Marc Hanselman showing us how it's done on Jewel Thief.

Shaking off the pump at the anchors.

Chicken Out Ridge on Mt. Borah on the center skyline.

Tom at the start of Jewel Thief.

Tom warming up on a great .10+ named Fingerprints.

Yesterday Tom and I traveled to Cedar Creek in the Lost River Range to sample a new crag our friend Marc has been bolting.

Nestled in the shadow of Mt. Borah, the wall sits at about 8,200'. With a northerly aspect, tall pines and a healthy creek flowing just yards away it is a perfect summer crag that stays cool and sees hardly any direct sunlight.

The wall isn't particularly big, but with an average route height of 60' and current route count at about 25 (half of which are .11 – .13), there is plenty of fun to be had. The angles and hold selections make for powerful and pumpy, yet, tendon-friendly climbing. Pretty damn good combination, if you ask me. The limestone is similar to Slim Shady wall in Teton Canyon but slightly overhung for the most part.

Unfortunately it was a pretty high gravity day for me (I think I was still recovering from the Social D show, seriously, lol) so I didn't send anything noteworthy but I did sample routes that were certainly worth going back to redpoint. Jewel Thief and Caught on Tape – two .12's that are damn good routes.

Kudos to Marc for all the hard work. I'll be back for sure.

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Rock, and wee bit of Rant

Ethan and I headed out today to go climb. He hasn't shown much interest in it since, well, probably last Sept. when we were in Maple Canyon, UT. I ask him every so often if he wants to go and he'll think about it, then sheepishly shake his head and say "No". "O.K.", I'll reply, "let's go swim/ride bikes/hike/etc." instead" and he's good to go. So today was kind of a pleasant surprise when HE suggested we go climb.

Which made me think of one of the things that irks me in the world of parentdom: Parents who don't let their kids be kids. I'm not saying that it's o.k. to let them eat pizza, drink Pepsi and play video games all the time. No. It's when parents force certain activities on their poor kids – mainly so when it becomes clear that the kid just isn't into it. And I'm not only talking about climbing. But that's one thing I told myself when we had Ethan and Madeline: I wasn't going to force the outdoor lifestyle, especially climbing, on them. Britt and I expose them to the outdoors regularly and so far they like most of it. Climbing, however, is a little different and it is certainly not for everyone.

Anyhow, today I wanted to take Ethan to Ririe Reservoir for something new. However, upon arrival we found out that a $5 fee is required to enter the recreation area. If you've ever been to Ririe Resv. you know that paying anything more than the gas to get there is not cool. All the routes are toprope only, the cliff is only about 25'-30' tall and the hardest thing there is 5.10. Ethan isn't climbing 5.10 (yet) but there was no way in hell I was paying to go there. I'll save that for a fine pint of microbrew.

I'm also thinking that next time I may take him to what could be a new spot for easy–moderate climbs in the foothills of I.F.

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If I was a female I would marry Mike Ness

O.K., so maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration but Mike Ness IS the man.

I thought Clutch was the best band I've seen live…until last night. Social D at the Knitting Factory in Boise was bloody unreal! Mike Ness hasn't slowed down much at all and the energy he and the band transmitts is reciprocated 10 fold amoungst the crowd. That was hands down THE best show I've seen yet. It was how we spent our 11th anniversary this year (19 years together total) too.

Opening with Under My Thumb, the stage was set for complete annihilation. They played a lot of songs from the best album on the planet, Somewhere Between Heaven and Hell, plus some new stuff (new album coming out this Fall!) Closing out the set with a tribute to Mr. Cash before tearing the fuckin place down with a ramped up version of Ring of Fire was just icing on the cake. I wish Ethan had been there to sing along during Sick Boy though (his favorite Soc. D. song), he would have loved it.

We also ran into a handful of people originally from Idaho Falls at the show and had great trips down memory lane with everyone. Thanks for hanging with us Matt Cefrese, let's go climb soon.

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Blood, Sweat and Ink: Part 1

Yesterday I made the journey to SLC to start work on my sleeve. It was an exhaustive day but so worth it as I've been looking for a very ling time for an artist to tattoo me that knows Polynesian art.

Taki (Doug) Vea at Samoa Ink in Salt Lake City is da' man. The shop is way laid back and non-typical when it comes to all the other tattoo shops I've visited over the years. Plus, the first thing I noticed when I walked in was that the shop was devoid of flash art – a sign that the artists only do original work.

The other thing I really liked was that it also lacked the usual "hardcore" attitude that ink shops tend to carry (skulls, naked women, etc.) We listened to reggae the whole time and talked story with other Poly's that came in and out. Real chill. It's somewhere that I'd let the kids hang out with me while I was getting inked.

Taki and I sat down and had a good talk about what I wanted. It was a good experience for me to talk to an artist that had a lot of understanding and respect for Polynesian art. It made me really think about what I was doing there and why.

Anyway, to keep from this becoming a lengthy post, I'll just add that the artwork we did represents myself and my family expressed in a combination of Maori, Hawaiian and Samoan artwork. I am heading back next month to finish the upper half and will report on that when the time comes.

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Pure Rock Fury, .13b

Thanks to my friends for making this happen.

Yesterday was quite a memorable day for me. I was finally able to do the first ascent of a route that I bolted 3 years ago.

At a suggested rating of .13b, it's certainly my hardest send to date. With a few 1-hang runs on it, and even more many-hangs runs on it over the past few years, success on the route always seemed questionable in my mind. But there is one major hurdle that I think I've overcome in my head that has seemed to help me this season – NO EXCUSES.

Climbers always joke about "having your excuses dialed in" so that should you not be successful, well then, you've got a reason, right? Well, other than injuries, height differences, hangovers, etc., there really are no reasons to lean on excuses, (especially trivial ones) – except to save face. And that's what it boils down to – too much pride.

We've got to learn to lighten up and say "Fuck it". Have fun, try hard, and should you send, then nourish that hard-earned redpoint beer. Because you never know – that last run you passed up because of some weak excuse could have been it.

Fighting through the mono-to-mono move on the first ascent run.

Anyway, there was certainly a highly positive vibe in the air at the Fins yesterday. There was a period of low gravity for a bit in the afternoon before we all succumbed to sore tips and tired muscles.

One thing I want to point out: Heather Lords is a badass. Yup. That girl has the strongest will I think I've ever witnessed on the sharp end. No way to explain it in words, you just have to see her go for it. Impressive, yes.

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No Girls Allowed (unless you are a canine)

This past weekend Brittany took off to Vegas to meet up with a couple of her high school girlfriends. Madeline spent Saturday night at Grandma's house which left Ethan and I to do whatever we wanted. SO to the hills we took!

"I ain't camping in no poop, fool"

My first idea was to go camp in Teton Canyon which would allow us to explore some boulders I had spotted this past spring. Unfortunately the Targhee Music Festival was going on that weekend and we did not want any part of the crowds that accompany the event. So, we headed to a place Tom and I had scoped out earlier this summer for possible climbing named Cedarville Canyon in the Lost River Range, north of Howe.

Unless you don't mind wallowing in cow patties and breathing in horse flies in 95˚ heat, the camping would be great. Not for us though, which was kind of a bummer because Ethan would have really enjoyed the hike through the canyon. So it was on to Plan C.

Plan C didn't really exist actually. Being sans map, unfamiliar with the area north of Howe and with time running out, I was scratching for anything. I knew that Pass Creek somewhere north of Howe (the pass road that cuts through the Lost River Range into Mackay), but wasn't sure how far. Time was peeling away our patience and I was bound to keeping my promise of hiking that day with Ethan. So we tore out of the cow-feces-infested Cedarville trailhead and headed north until we hit Pass Creek Rd.

Izzy cooling off in the creek

We struck gold when I remembered an area Tom and I had climbed a few years ago on a massive and remote limestone shield in Bear Creek off the Pass Creek Road. We found a sweet spot alongside Bear Creek (which overheated Izzy-dog LOVED), and called it good.


We had plenty of time to hike and return to camp to pig out on the best damn cheeseburgers I've ever made (I'm a born-again charcoal user – no more gas grills). Mandatory Smores came next with Ethan and I swapping scary stories around the camp fire.

One of many hard-earned Smores.

Day 2 of the No-Girls-Allowed-Camp–Fest found us on the road by 9 a.m. striking out for Ramshorn Canyon for a morning hike. Driving into the canyon I had never seen so much fine dirt on a road that it was sweeping up over the hood and windshield blinding our view at times – un-bloody-real! The hike went well, the driving not so well. I got the 2nd flat in 3 days on the damn truck. I'm getting pretty good at changing those things, I tell you. Funny thing happened while I was changing the tire: This dog came walking over from a close by farm house to check things out. Nice dog and all but it proceeded to urinate on the spare tire, then again on one of the good tires and then take a crap right in front of truck. It must not like Toyotas!

Back on the road we stopped by the institutional Pickles Place in Arco and pigged out before making the hot, dry, and boring drive back home through the Arco desert.

I can tell Ethan was in 7th heaven being able to have his dad all to himself for a weekend. I cant wait to do the same with Madeline soon.

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"International" Climber's Festival 2010 and the resolve of the Dissapearing Fish

Rick sending Ewanimity, .11b.

Ricardo and Thomas gearing up for 2 Kinds of Justice.
A classic route.

Jerry P. hitting it hard at the Zorro Wall.

Ricardo cocks the hammer on The Guns I'll Never Own, .11c.

Myself on the start of G.I.N.O. – a sweet boulder problem...with bolts.

Getting spanked on a rad .12a. Some days are certainly better than others.

I hit the Lander climbing festival this year for the first time in a few years. It was a good reminder of why Lander has always held a special place in my heart when it comes to climbing trips, which numero uno being the quality of stone and routes. Secondly, the atmosphere and local scene. The town seems to embrace climbers as well as host a healthy lifetsyle – without the attititude of other outdoor towns in the region (ahem, Jackson).

My goal for climbing on this trip was more mileage and sampling of routes as opposed to trying to redpoint "hard". Out of the 15-20 routes I got on, only one was bunk (don't do the new .11d to the left of Saddle Tramp...it sucks). Plus, I knew going there that for me to climb 4 stright days that my body wasn't going to be able to project. So I had fun keeping it chill.

Highlights: Good temps; Low crowds; Good friends at the Festival; Onsight of Zorro (classic route!), Hanging at the Ganite Grill; Ricardo enjoying his first trip to Lander and Wild Iris; Watching Tom eat a large pizza by himself; Hyroplaning on the way home near Pinedale in a few intense rain storms.

Oh yeah, and I need to retract my accusation of our cat in a previous post: We found the dried up remains of Damage nestled in one of Ethan's stuffed animals. It found out the hard way that fish are meant to remain in water.

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Da' Roost!

Ethan "Da Roost" TeNgaio

Our first 'Hawk.

Auntie Charish and 'lil Madi scoping the fireworks.

Madi and her friend Emily – inseparable.

A few late pics from Independence Day weekend. The kids were treated to constant playtime with the arrival of their friends from Mtn. Home. Amazing how fast a clean house can become not.

Ethan went for the mohawk and earned the nickname "Da' Roost" (rooster). Madi did her best impression of a crazy chicken – running around, non-stop playing with her bud Emily. Britt's folks threw their annual July 4th BBQ with the usual ono-licious food. We got to view the fireworks show from our friends folks house which is just about right on the river – UNREAL! Thanks Josh and Randi!

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