Well lubricated campfires are a dangerous thing. Drinks in hand, toes warming on the fire cone and a perfect weekend stretching ahead like an unending horizon, "we should go climbing" was greeted with dutch-courage enthusiasm
The am saw your correspondent channeling his inner Bridwell, and some WoLi line about whiskey wielding a strong option; but there was no turning back now, for we were committed to scale the mighty Papoose, near the crag formerly know as the Chief.
The pitches didn't quite flow as expected; never trust those on-line breaking news articles for an actual description; what felt like the hardest 10a in a while turned out to be a variation some feet to the side, and have an added number on it. So it goes and thank goodness for age and cunning.
The wisdom of our semi-alpine start became apparent as the base started to take on appearances of a conga-line for various routes. This however presented great sport in the form of some obviously fit youngster replete with laminated gym qualifications attached to the rear of his harness climbing a route adjacent to our choosen line. Heckling ensued, with responses along the lines of "I should kick your late-middle aged asses", which as the pic down-thread illustrates would no doubt have been the case!
All in all a great am outing during high summer in the great white north
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