Red RocksDecember 16-18th, 2003Had not the rabbit of our inner adolescencant grown soft and weary after months of gloom, rain and academia? Yay proclaimed the ever agile and dynamic sirs Carlesten and Viceroy. "What ho!" I exclaimed upon arrival of a white dove, burdened with none other than a sassy and captivating invitation. A voyage yonder to the stones of the mystically sensual and overwhelmenly doubious village of Las Vegas was proposed. Myself, a simple serf of the terresterial, gained access to a magnificent charriot of the celestial sphere and thus the trillogy began. Arrangments existed such that a rendezvous with the gainfully unencumbered Pax and partner Kim was forthright. Our much anticipated arrival in the campground, one which commenced not just a smidgen of annoyance, was rejoiced by the other peasants. As the sun pierced our terresterial plane, unbeknownst to our kind and gentle troupe, the sly and lascivious campground lords would soon be collecting their tax of blood, servitude and $10 from our shoddy hides. We attempted to escape said bounty in modifying our material manifestation, pose as wittless vagrants, and elude our aged captors. It was to no avail as they corralled us expeditiously with their massive idling charriot. Before the sun had reached a stone's distance in the sky, Pax and Kim were located, and we lauched their charriot of silver towards the lofty preciptices of "Ginger Crack".
Our journey was long and vigorous, ascending slopes of rouge sand, sage green hills and canyons of this most unusual "sand-rock". Our group commenced the climb quickly upon arrival at the base as the subsidy of time was not with us. As viceroy himself was so hot, he began the path up the walls of sand with not just a bit of elation and intoxicated merryment.
Sir Viceroy encountered new and hearty bolts through the crux face climbs, allowing safe and brisk passage through the difficulties.
Alas, our timely arrival atop the tower of sand did not precede the setting of thy holy ball of fire. Milord Pax and Milady Kim were none too impressed at our sluggish and slothlike ascent as the magnitude of ambient thermal radiation was quite low. We proceeded to rappel off into the night, a double rope down to groves of cactus and juniper branches lead us to a path ajoining a watercourse. This lead to a singular pair of bolts atop a steep and forboding precipitice from which two double rope rappels brought us again to that dusty and horizontal plane. That night the peasants found comfort in the ale of Yangying, while the lords consumed the ale of California's mighty range. Soon however, the yearning for mating of flesh with nylon encrusted feather of fowl signaled the end of a most pleasing day. As sunshine's tepid and revitalizing qualities were lacking on the Ginger Crack, we resolved to befal ourselves to that lewd and genital local known as "The Second Pull Out". Suitably named for the promiscuouity of the nearby village, we headed towards the sport climbing mecca of "The Gallery".
Our journey concluded that spectacular day at the Mass Production Wall. Yet the true maxim of our voyage has, thus far, not been candid and forthright. This voyage included that quintessential vein... nay that very ARTERY of our carnal existance: love. Though she was a minute peasant among the gargantuan stones of sand, and though she resided in the most despicable of alleyways (among scoundrel boulders harboring not less than a foot of snow), sir Viceroy discovered true love with his mistress "Lucie".
Wait, did you think you'd get away without a little belly porn?!?!?!?!?
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