Monday, October 24, 2011

1/1



Starting the season off right!  One shot through the neck, off hand, with the .22, at ten yards.  

Yesterday, Bob, Justin, Levi and myself headed for Granite Creek up in Lolo.  It rained on and off for most of the day, but we did check out the river boulder with shartmonster on it.  Enormous to say the least.  Unfortunately it only holds a couple of lines and most of the roof is blank.  We bailed and went for a search of birds and boulders up an old logging road near the border.  About 20 minutes into the hike I paused, heard some brush move and eyed a rather big Blue Grouse.  The nice thing about shooting mountain grouse is that you don't have to use a shotgun.  More of a challenge and less of a mess.  Needless to say, Victoria and I ate well last night.  Bacon wrapped grouse breast, roasted in white wine and garlic.  Turned the drippings into gravy, and had farm rolls and parmesan rice with it.

One thing I noticed was the unbelievable amount of elk shit scattered on the road.  Perhaps I'll find myself in Granite Creek before sunrise on Sunday with the .30-06 and an elk tag.


Friday, October 21, 2011

A New Season

Leavenworth was just stellar.  Somewhat bouldering was certainly the theme, mainly slamming beers, trying to corral our dog and getting wrecked by the perfect granite that Icicle holds.  The ladies took down Drugstore Cowboy, a seemingly quality V3 on neat grips.  Sam managed to circumcise his pointer finger being a dogan on the Sail.  I got fairly close to the Coffee Cup, tickling the crux hold, and sending the circus trick of a problem the Hourglass.  Spud Webb as Sam was saying.  Photos and more bullshit here from Sam "dogan" Johnson.

The trees are finally turning here in Missouland.  4200 is closed, but Lolo will not be forgotten.  Going out on Sunday with Bob Proffitt to flail on some choss in Granite Creek and off Fish Creek rd.  Planning on bringing the .22 to slay some grouse to eat.  Yes, hunting season is here, and I couldn't be more excited.  Going back to Helena this weekend to attain the family heirloom .30-06, a gun my grandfather then dad, shot big game with.  To say this gun has "kick" would be an understatement.  I remember trembling as a kid shooting it, anxiously waiting the kick after a stiff trigger pull.

Well, certainly things have changed since I fired my first rounds out of a rifle.  I grew up hunting in NE Montana, every Thanksgiving, until I came to college.  My uncle would take me out in his 1988 Ford F-150, Cleatus the dog in tow, McDonalds breakfast strewn around the cab.  This was hunting, this is what real men did.  Glaciated plains, scab lands, sunrises, sunsets, agriculture, coulees, the arctic air, everything about this place is powerful.  With that being said, I saw a lot of country as a kid hunting there.  Hunting on the CMR, thousand acre farms, ten thousand acre ranches, river bottoms, and buttes, I've practically seen it all up there.  My uncle wasn't much into trophy hunting, but I certainly was.  But when a man who has hunted his whole life, from Alaska to Africa, Boone & Crockett measurements lose their allure.  In the first 6 years of hunting, I shot multiple deer that would make grown men envious, but since then, I too, have lost that sense of bigger is better.  Though I do obnoxiously show my trophies off to visitors by hanging them above our fireplace.



Yes, that is green tile.

Now, this is my first season back to hunting big game.  Surely I will harvest a deer, but maybe if I'm lucky an elk.  That would make me giddy like a little school girl.  But obviously now it's not about the trophies.  It's about nostalgia, solitude, tradition and sustainable, tasty food.  

I'm not too sure why I decided to write this post, as it has nothing to do with bouldering, not even somewhat.  Maybe because hunting has been such an integral part of who I am and how I was brought up.  Maybe because I wanted to belittle and enrage all of the granola environmentalist climbers who don't read this blog.  Probably a little of both.

Monday, October 10, 2011

4200

Yesterday was the last session for the season on 4200.  The road closes this weekend, when we will be in Leavenworth, so no more upper 4200 bouldering for me.  I might be motivated to head up to the Hideout, just past where the gate closes, but not in the near future.  Granite Creek road is probably where I'll concentrate on, considering I've never even bouldered in that sector of Lolo.  Home to the beautiful Tor rock, among others, I'm pretty excited to check out the pebbles scattered in that valley.  Maybe Joe's shartmonster or whatever the fuck its called will see a session in the coming weeks.

Back to yesterday.  Victoria, Callie the turd-dog, and I picked up Justin and Bubbers the yoda-dog in the early afternoon.  We climbed in the Journeymen, for about an hour, then the Beautiful boulder for a couple more.  Justin sent the classic At All Costs SDS, Ginger and Not in Pubic.  A solid day for Justin.  I managed to worm my way up Ginger again, only after complete middle finger carnage from the mono on Not in Public.  Nothing serious, just a lot of blood/skin lost.  It's unfortunate having sausage fingers that don't fit in monos.

A couple gym sessions this week and then off to Leavenworth, where I will try my hardest to slay the Coffee Cup.  And beer.

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Currently

My life seems to revolve around a few things at the moment.  It could be worse.



OMG RMF




ArcMap 10, enough said.




 In the gym, of course, with bad tattoos, barefoot, and leg warmers(?)



Then there are other things that could be in my life more.



Top 3, so elusive.









A bread addiction, I could eat it for every meal.