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Jack had gone up to the Meadows on Thursday evening, for a bit of pre- 30th birthday soloing and soul searching, and snagged us a couple of prime camp sites at the Meadows campground on the day it opened. He warned us to bring lots of DEET (actually I thought he said lots of booze, which would have been an unnecessary request for our lot, but it was a bad phone connection), which proved to be a timely warning.

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Brian and I left Berkeley late Friday evening, and only made it as far as Hardin Flats before collapsing. Never the less, we were the first of the gang to show up at Phobos-Deimos cliff, where we had agreed to meet, as Jack wanted to test his mettle against a Goldfinger. We warmed up on the first two pitches of Phobos, and were half way up the second pitch before Jack and Christine showed up. We walked over to the top of Blues Riff (5.11d), and Brian took a TR lap on it before we rapped down and let Jack have his way with it - he did it in one long pitch, placing about 5 pieces of gear. We let Christine follow it, then I led it, had Brian follow it again, and then I TRed it one last time.

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Christine and Charles on Blues Riff

We were plenty hungry by then, so we paused for lunch, after fending off a hungry marmot, then joined Jack on Compared to What (5.11a). After seeing the offwidth nature of it, I declined to lead it and happily TRed it with the line Jack had set up. This proved to be par for the course for the rest of the weekend. An interesting climb, though covered in bird guanno, with a lot of fisting and liebacking (oooh, that sounds dirty). Ed and Viv joined us at that point - they had also done Phobos, and had rapped down the Mocha Java Stout line. We then moved over to Goldfinger (5.12a), which was the main course for the afternoon. Rod and Vanda finally joined us, as they had had a slow start that morning due to excessive partying the night before (for Vanda's birthday), and to pick up my stove, which I had thoughtfully forgotten to bring. There had been a pair of climbers on Goldfinger all day long, yo-yoing their way up it. and when they were finally done, Jack girded his loins and launched, watched by a large peanut gallery. True to his communique on Thursday, he caught plenty of air time. It was only when I followed him up it to clean that I realized just how hard and nasty the climb was. Painful jams, awkward finger locks, liebacking edges, and wandering cracks. Good job Jack! I'm sure you'll get it on your next Birthday!

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Jack on Goldfinger

It had gotten fairly cold and late by then, and most of the posse had abandoned us after Jack had finished, so Jack, Brian and I gathered the remaining gear, and returned to the campsite where the party was already in full swing. A large crew was there, including Deb, Jeff, Jeremy, Zinzey, Tim, and a few other people I didn't know. Erika had baked a flourless chocolate torte with some interesting decorations, and it had survived the trip in my cooler. There were many oohs and ahhhs when it was presented and put alongside the other two cakes. I also had some fun with some bacon fat and a camp fire, finally managing to produce some 12 ft tall flames that threatened the surrounding trees.

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Cakes and fire

Not surprisingly, Sunday morning began rather slowly. A long breakfast, puctuated by girl who asked us to join her "non-denominational Christian Sunday morning service", which seemed slightly oxymoronic to us, but was none the less the cause of much mirth. When we did finally get going, Brian, Jack, Ed, Vivian and I headed to Murphy Creek. When we got there, the crag was still in full sunlight, so we procrastinated a bit more. Jack "warmed up" on Penguin Cafe (5.11a), while I attempted the 10b variation of Mandric (5.10b/5.11b), but backed off when I realized that I had to traverse on a small sloping ledge with no pro, which could lead to a nasty ground fall. The rest of the day was spent with Jack putting up hard 11s for us, while we enjoyed top roping them. Late in the afternoon we were joined by Jeff and Deb, and also by lots of mosquitoes. The rock there is very coarse, and I trashed my hands (and ankle) pretty badly while attempting some insecure jams on Auto Bond (5.11b). Ouch. Next time, I may resort to tape gloves. Kudos to Brian for lugging a 6 pack all the way out there. It sure made for a good end to the day!

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Jack on Penguin Cafe, and Mandric

Ed: Here is Buttercup's TR If you have a sweet tooth, then it follows that you should look for a pastry chef as a housemate. If that housemate happens to be a climber as well, then you're in for a real treat. Earlier last week I noticed that Erika had downloaded pictures of Half Dome and El Cap onto her computer. I initially wondered what a sport climber - maybe that's too strong a term, rather, non-trad climber - would be doing with these images. However, recalling that a couple of weeks earlier, we had walked along the base of El Cap after climbing the Moratorium (for her 4th Valley route ever, which she flashed), I congratulated myself for inspiring her interest in the Valley. It also added up in my mind since her 1st Valley climb was the Regular Route on Half Dome. (Footnote: Since you ask, her 2nd and 3rd routes were Serenity and Sons.) Come the end of the week, she was off to New York and I to the Meadow. Rumor had it that there was going to be a party on Saturday night, but I'm usually out of the loop on these things. Partnerless for Friday, I struck up a conversation with the cute girl behind the camping reservations counter. Using my best pick-up line, I asked "So, do you climb?" "Yup." "What days do you have off?" "The days when you're not here." "Fine, I'll just go soloing and if I get hurt, I hope you feel good about yourself." Off I went and despite breaking a knob on Daff Dome and using both hands to try and booty a fixed cam on Cathedral Peak, I was unable to conjure up the guilt that I had hoped for. On Saturday, I entered a Big Air contest up at the Phobos/Deimos cliff, with me as the only participant. After a quick lap on Blues Riff, followed by a 4-hour wait for a couple of guys yo-yoing Goldfinger after every fall, and they fell a lot, I decided that I was warmed up. My first fall came as I made the rookie mistake of trying to place a blue Alien through the thin crux while pulling rope and missing the clip. The next fall came after I had made the traverse to the second crack and decided to punch it for what appeared to be a good hand jam, only to come up slightly short. Let's just say that this one gave me some time to ask myself why I wasn't on that coffee-themed rap-bolted route to the left of Phobos. Luckily, I still had time during the fall to examine my scars from the cheese grating falls on "Mocha blah..." last year when a couple of holds broke. The peanut gallery trickled away after that as they had seen what they came for. When we got back to camp that night, the party was already on; it almost makes you wonder if people just use your birthday as an excuse to engage in silliness and debaucheries. I must admit that I wasn't completely surprised when I saw a cake box approaching. I was pleasantly surprised to find out that inside was a chocolate torte that Erika had made. This would explain the severe grilling I got last Wednesday as to the exact time that I would be coming home. Now when it comes to desserts for a pastry chef, a torte is standard fare, the real question was what might Erika do to top it off. Remember those pictures that I had found on her computer? Deb licked the Nose, literally, from bottom to top in 3 seconds, including Pine Line, but you can be sure that Hans will be making a new attempt upon hearing about this. The purists commented that the linkup was too easy with Half Dome so close, but I pointed out that the Merced was now much wider and flooding well over its banks. Hence, it may be quicker to rap the West Face for the descent. There was also some mumbling about the lack of a well-defined North American continent on the southeast face. Note that this wasn't an oversight but rather a problem with keeping the dark glazing separate from the orange glazing; sheesh, pastry gumbies. It was only a matter of time before the savages, as is so indicative of their human nature, decided to try and devour El Cap as everyone claimed their route, leaving me the East Ledges. Upon sinking the knife into the Big Stone, a white crystallized substance appeared but the hungry beasts immediately concluded that it was granulated sugar. It was only when Charles tried to eat a slice with the Wall of Early Morning Light on one side and the Salathe Wall on the other, not realizing the conflict of interest, that he proclaimed the innards of the Captain were in fact, nothing more than foam core. This would explain the huge block of foam that I found in the kitchen last week with a couple of corners missing. The chocolate torte was as good as I'd ever had. The wine continued to flow all night and there was no shortage of desserts as there were two other cakes on the table. It crossed my mind that perhaps when you have friends as good as these, that maybe life wasn't about contriving and sending projects. Alas, that thought quickly disappeared as I took another swig and thought about what to do on Sunday. jack P.S. 30 is the new 20. P.P.S. If you believe that, then you must also think that Spinster Rove will be going to the electric chair for committing treason at a time of war. P.P.P.S. For the official government report, TMYNP050711-JH30N20, with full details of traffic on 205 and the parking situation at the Winking Lantern: