Indian Creek Crack Attack

Celebrate good times, come on!

To celebrate the successful defense of my master's thesis: "Environmental controls on the stable isotopic composition of laminiated tufa in Red Butte Canyon, Utah", I spent a week pretending I was still a climbing bum living out of my car in Indian Creek. Except... when I really was living out of my car it was a Chevy Corsica not a sweet Tacoma truck, and I had WAAAAYYYY fewer cams and way less cash for wine and rest day extravagances like breakfast at Eclekticafe in Moab. So I guess that means that life has gotten better over the past few years, although my heart is telling me right now that I would trade all these material things to not be sitting in front of this computer wading through mind numbingly tedious revisions on a 150 page thesis that I am ready to huck straight into the Great Salt Lake.

Jeremy contemplates The Optimator

The climbing was fun. When my arms and head finally came back after the first few days of being gripped and tired on 5.10s, I climbed some amazing pitches that I had never been on before... and my future tick list grew in length yet again! But what really made me want to stay down there and continue living the rhythm of eat, climb, eat, climb, drink, eat, sleep repeat was not just red sandstone spitter after corner after splitter. For the past week my life became so simple, yet somehow more rich than any week I spent in Salt Lake this year. I was with friends almost all day, laughing, joking, clowning around, dancing and doing yoga on the slickrock of our campsite, cooking burrito feasts on the tail gate to be washed down by cold beer in front of a flickering campfire as the stunning desert starscape drifted overhead. Not every moment was shared though; tucked into my bed in the back of the truck I read a novel, something that had nothing to do with isotopes, and loved every word of its frivolous text. I often was the first to rise, and I sat in my lawn chair in a sliver of sun with my sleeping bag piled in my lap as I waited for the coffee to bubble out of the espresso maker, filling the cold air with its delicious aroma.

Jeremy sending the SH*T out of Disco Machine Gun

I could wax on forever, believe me... anything to keep from pecking away at some stupid isotope mass balance calculation that somehow has to find a way into the text of my thesis. But I will spare you from any more of my emotional outpourings for today. It is just great to know that as I wrap up this grad school phase of my life, I will hopefully be making room for many more weeks just like the one I have just spent living simply and fully with friends.

Kinley getting psyched for her lead

Jer and Mando hide from the sun

Even the early residents of Indian Creek knew that it is all about the meat capes... biceps get you nowhere!

Kinley and Kitt dancing to Kinley's pumping subwoofer to get warmed up before some serious crack climbing.

Just to prove I was really there!!!