Somehow, somewhere, when I wasn't looking, I managed to turn 50. Sorry, but that's totally freakin' impossible. But there it is. What to do? Get the hell out of Dodge. Friends and family converged on a strange corner of the arid West, and we proceeded to hurl ourselves at vertical stone. It's the only sensible thing to do when life gets absurd. The rock is some sort of tightly compacted volcanic ash, I believe, with various bits and pieces sticking out and pockets and holes going in--a strange and wonderful surface for gravity games. Jodi and I are slowly getting back into the swing of this discipline again. After 35 years of playing on rocks (and ice) all over the western US and Canada, the joy is still there. Climb on, brothers and sisters. Those fingers were meant for dangling over the void. Use 'em!
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