Red Rocks
December 16-18th, 2003
Had 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".
Rainbow mountain (left), with Ginger Crack existing on the sunlit and
triangular buttress.
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.
The Duke of Carlesten remarks, "And so we begin young and unsuspecting
Alpinist of Dave!"
Good tidings to chilled and wearisome fingers on pitch 1 (5.7). Photo:
Sam 'Viceroy' Warren.
Viceroy comes bearing doves and branches of olive on the second pitch
(5.8).
Alpinist of Dave opening the book of pitch 3 (5.7).
Photo: Sam 'Viceroy' Warren.
Our audaciously intrepid sirs relish the fine exposure as they unearth
passage through the third pitch.
"Belay me with utmost care and composure on this crux journey (5.9),
Alpinist of Dave, less I relinquish mine sharp and trusty broadsword across
thy backside!"
Sir Viceroy encountered new and hearty bolts through the
crux face climbs, allowing safe and brisk passage through the difficulties.
Alpinist of Dave and The Duke of Carlesten suspended in slings on the
only hanging belay.
Photo: Sam 'Viceroy' Warren.
The potent and ceremonious delight of steep face climbing with a crack
for protection is found in pitch 5 of the Ginger Crack. (5.7)
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".
Viceroy walks among the firey stones of debauchery.
The Duke of Carlesten unshrouds the furry flesh of man.
Photo: Sam 'Viceroy' Warren.
Viceroy siezes the powdered nipples of her majesty...
and the peasants rejoice!
The young peasant ascends with the ferver of a lusty mutton.
Photo: The Duke of Carlesten.
Milord Pax can crank!!!
A race to the top! May the loser be lashed to mighty stallions and drug
through the most offensive of desert's spinney bloom.
The Gallery, residence of leh-bee-sions and utterance of the nefarious
"P" word.
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".
Awwww, Lucie.
Little did Viceroy know that across the valley, the menacing brute "Oblong"
was plotting his revenge for the loss of his beloved Lucie.
Wait, did you think you'd get away without a little belly
porn?!?!?!?!?
Ladies, please attempt to control yourselves!! The biblical flood of phone
numbers and lacivious paraphernalia since our last
installment of belly porn has been outrageous! Perhaps I should not
blame you though, as it is undenyable how these sexy beasts of men can
drive one MAD with desire!!
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