Waiting on the Weather

We’ve gone from the twilight of rock season to the Twilight Zone, it seems. I awoke this morning to a damp, chilly world, the mountain cloaked in fog. Too cold, too wet for rock; plenty of moisture but not the right form for ice climbing.

Despite all the gloom, it wasn’t raining at 8am, so away I went, all sorts of plans in mind. The skies made it obvious the schedule wouldn’t hold for long, so it would have to be rapid-fire stuff, but I kept hoping the crud would hold off longer than conditions indicated. Arriving at the Lower Measles Wall, I scooted up Cracklosis and down Measly Little Corner. Run for Rabies was sopping wet, definitely not an option, and I wasn’t about to tackle H1N1 at this temperature. It began to sprinkle as I jogged to the Upper Measles Wall, escalating to a light rain as I began working up Hydrophobia. How aptly named it was, this morning; the last bit a true goose-pimpler before grasping the top boulder with a gasp of relief.

Hmmm: El Muerte Rojo was a no-go, way too likely to be my eponymous epitaph if I tried it today. What then? The sky was falling and I had a bit more climbing to accomplish. Time for a scamper down to the Under the Measles Wall for one last-ditch effort. I slipped and slid on wet, icy leaves down and around to the base of this longest, lowest-angled, pockmarked precipice and climbed the sole route there, a 60′ 5.0. Which, given its sopping state and the same sort of holds it shares with the rest of the Measles Walls, was still quite engrossing.

All those miscellaneous plans melted with the falling rain. There would be no more climbing for me, but who would’ve thought¬†my climbing day¬†would be saved by a Social Disease?

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