Tag Archives: Rock Climbing

Kid, You’ll Move Mountains.

Yesterday was my birthday. I decided to climb a mountain. Not like a real mountain but like an almost mountain. Actually I can’t find it listed on the interweb anywhere but at the summit of said mountain I found a neat little jar with the words “Mt. Russell” scratched on the top. I popped it open and found scraps of paper with peoples signatures and youthful writings encompassing a gold foil chocolate coin. It seem that a family, a youthful group of pirates, and some adventurous individuals had all summited this little mount in Estes Park and i just had happened to mount this little guy as well… wait. Anyways, I filled out my full name “KEVIN RUSSELL KELLY, 11/10/09 on my Birthday” and sealed everything back up. I’m sure there is some sort of significance to this find but the french press I had earlier is not allowing me to entertain deep thoughts at the moment.

So yea I guess I ended last week on a bit of a downer. That’s life tho you know. As one of my favorite (and possibly least favorite) quotes goes, “Que Sera, Sera – whatever will be, will be”. I wholeheartedly agree with this but only at about 50%. I think you also have the ability to make things what they will be and shift the entire natural order of how things are just supposed to go. I find that I look at life alot like this; half and half. Grey. Yin-Yang. It just seems that that is how everything was meant to be. I can keep expounding on this or just move on as I don’t want to move the reader(s) to further boredom.

This past week was definitely straight outta the guidebook for Colorado Livin’ (Foreword by John Denver). I did some physical activity demanding hiking or rock climbing 5 days in a row. Needless to say I was not super productive but my computer has still been recovering from Hardrivecrash Katrina 3 weeks ago. I didn’t have all my tools and programs back in action so I decided to make the most of the great weather and explore the damn park. Katie (Patrick’s girlfriend), Jeff (Patrick’s Coworker’s Boyfriend) and I (Patrick’s friend) headed out on a great warm day last week to hike up to Mills Lake. The beauty of this hike & lake cannot be explained in words. Also unexplainable is why I brought my worst pair of shoes with literally no grip on a hike 7 miles away and thousands of vertical feet up. I reasoned that I would be able to slide better on the icy parts (like I did on an earlier hike with Becca that was maybe a mile) and bygeorge I was right. I fell at least three times heading up and uncountable, back-busting falls on the way down. I felt like a new gosling trying to make it’s way across a petroleum covered frozen lake (sorry for that unconscious enviromentalism – must be the hippies). But holy Lord was the view worth it. Just go look up Glacier Gorge and Mills Lake right now. Go ahead, I won’t mind. It’s a gorgeous winter wonderland straight out of some horribly idealistic contemporary painting by the likes of Jesse Barnes or Thomas Kincaid. Except it’s furreal and totally imprinted in my mind and camera forever.

Also, it’s now time for my favorite part of short blog posts – where I get tired of typing and realize how much work I really have to do now that I have my programs and computer back… BULLET POINTS!

• Flashed first outdoor climb, The Edge of Time 5.9 – A 3 Star Classic Route that I was very psyched to have done.
• Discovered many new, favorite beers. Here’s a few: Moose Drool (Big Sky), Red Ale (Estes Park Brewco.), Murphy’s Irish Stout, Warlock (Bristol), Thunderhead & Chocolate Dip (Mountain Sun). They are all beverage sex.
• Re-realized you truly are gassier up in the mountains.
• Been watching these TV shows on DVD alot: Weeds, Dexter, Arrested Development. Dexter is especially good.
• Also been watching the Dosage climbing videos by Big Up Productions.
• Been reading House of Leaves & Let My People Go Surfing.
• Ready to take off for my next part of the trip… CALIFORNIA

California, here I cooooooooommmmmmmeeeeeeee…

“Welcome to Estes!”

After unpacking my faithful Jetta late at night and making my new bed (former water bed frame with normal mattress inside; like a low-rider baby crib kinda), I lay awake for probably two hours even though I was completely exhausted.  The first thing I noticed in my new abode was the abundance of big mirrors in the master bedroom. Not on the ceiling or anything kinky like that but 4 large mirrors that were directly related to the amount of pictures of the homeowner. Now I’m up for pretty much anything but pictures of oneself, not with friends – just framed solo-shots, in ones bedroom may hint at some slight narcissism. Many thoughts raced thru my head which made it’s way into some bizarre dreams before I finally fell asleep.

9:00 a.m. Saturday
I’m awakened by my great bearded friend Patrick notifying me that the weather would be an unseasonably warm 60 degrees and by golly we were going to take advantage of the conditions immediately… after breakfast. Up we headed to Mountain Meadows, a one-room cabin that served delicious omelets and coffee surrounded by God’s glory. It was great and delicious and hotter than a baby with a fever on a furnace because of the wood stove in the corner that was cranking at full blast. I walked in with a coat, hoodie and sweater and was quickly down to my t-shirt within minutes.

After getting our grub on, we headed towards the Monastery – a climbing area found by helicopter that Becca’s boyfriend had helped develop. It was on this drive up that I started to feel less than stellar, but I brushed it aside. We geared up and headed out on a semi-difficult hike to the climbing area. Along the way, we stumbled upon a deers leg complete with fur and hoof intact but with a clean break at the patella. This made me happy in a weird way to see such obvious nature in action in a blunt and destructive way. So, obviously, I picked it up and stuck it in the ground for Patrick to see as he was a few clicks behind us.

A mile or so in, we reached the first climbing area which was absolutely freaking gorgeous. Beautiful steep crevasses of rocky land with sheer rising rock faces that screamed to be scrambled upon. Trees shot up at impossible angles which acted as permanent hiking poles to slow our descent to the first ledge. We unpacked and suited up with the group deciding that I should try and lead the first route. This was funny for a few reasons: A. I had never climbed on real rock before (well, with ropes *refer to Cambodia & Germany) B. I did ‘better’ in the gym relative to my friends because it’s the only official climbing i had experienced. C. I clipped two quickdraws (carabiners that you clip into bolts) and quickly realized this was utterly different than the gym. In a gym, besides having the holds obviously marked and color-coded, you had to rely much more on upper body strength than fancy footwork. On this rock, you basically were climbing with your feet only and holding on to invisible flakes and crack features. I was totally out of my element.

Temporarily defeated, I let the seasoned outdoor vet Becca lead the route (placing quickdraws into preplaced bolts and anchors) which I followed after more easily on toprope (a rope threaded through two rings at the top of a route). We stayed here for a good amount of climbs before hiking through an awesome two foot crack that split 70 feet of sheer rock. At this area, we climbed an even harder route and took the obligatory climbing photos.

The sun had started it’s inevitable downward spiral as we packed up and began the hike back. This time though, I had an extra rope to carry. No biggy I thought at first, but as we hiked back it seemed much harder than the hike there and it was taking it’s toll. We finally made it back and I felt utterly pooped with weird muscle cramps and aches as a result of extra weight. I stripped off my soaked t-shirt and through my hoody on as we shopped for the evening dinner and booze. We clambered into my new mountain home and quickly showered while making some necessary spaghetti to replace lost energy. 2 glasses of wine later and I was feeling like I was sleep-existing. We called it a night and I crept into my bed utterly sapped of everything… yet it still took another 90 minutes or so to get to sleep.

10 a.m. Sunday
My great bearded friend awakes me again with more dreams of climbing. I begin to talk to him but the only thing that comes out is a croaky-barry white answer followed by a coughing spasm. And then, you guessed it! Yellowish-Brown Egg Yolk Phlegm. (What trip would be complete without some upper respiratory malady?) Nonetheless, he talked me into going with them to Lily Lake, a completely gorgeous park that housed the climbing area Jurassic Park. Today was slightly colder so I threw on some extra layers and proceeded to hike up to Jurassic Park all the while feeling retardedly sick and dizzy. I sat in the corner coughing up mucus as Patrick and Katie climbed – wind whipping all around us. After 30 minutes, i decided to hike back down to the car. I took a little longer way down and completely admired the mountain range housing Long’s Peak before hibernating in the car for a good two hours.

Back home, I took a three hour nap waking up sounding like I had earlier that day. Not good. I perked up a little in the evening as we grilled a huge amount of meat called London Broil bought at the local Safeway for a huge discount. This was a monstrous amount of meat that lasted long enough to be reborn into some of the best french dip sandwiches I have ever had.

The next few days I spent hocking up disgusting shit and trying to get better all while becoming sufficiently acquainted with Estes Park. Everytime we saw something uniquely Coloradoan or the mood felt right, Patrick and I would yell “WELCOME TO ESTES PARK” with huge dopy grins and arms wide open like a Creed video. I scoped out the best places for internet access and checked out a few watering holes.

Oh yea, and there was a huge fire the first monday I was there.

Time to Do Something. (Kevin Moves to Colorado)

I hadn’t been on a plane, a boat or train for almost a year. I hadn’t been more than two hours from home for damn near 365 days and I could feel it rising up in me for months now. I could feel the winds of change trying to blow me along while I’ve held steadfastly to the Missouri soil that I cherish so much. And before I knew it, the soil that I had clung to so fervently started to turn me into soil; I was becoming a St. Louis fixture – a mobile landmark well known among the 20-somethings in the city area. The things that I loved about St. Louis were starting to suffocate me. I had become too familiar with how everything works and where everything was that I was not moved by life and it’s little eccentricities any further. This wanderlust has been building up in me for awhile and finally it took it’s huge weathered mallet and knocked me off of my moorings; ass deep into the Rocky Mountains.

I landed in a crevasse of civilization called Estes Park around 10:45 p.m. last Friday night. This was after having left Thursday at 5 p.m. Three and a half hours drive to Kansas City followed by 10+ hours to Boulder. And as luck would have it, I got sick right before leaving town. I didn’t have any going away parties because it would have felt retarded. I’m only headed out here to Colorado for the two months before Christmas and then safely nestled back into the loving love of holiday-family-time-warmth in the mighty midwest. It’s almost like an extended vacation. Which almost feels kinda selfish. Which almost feels like I’m a wandering youth with no direction or goals… well, that last one was a bit harsh.

So ya, here I am, Kevin Kelly, twenty-six years of age typing out my thoughts on this adventure in a small resort town in Colorado. This is how alot of my personal journal entries start as well; kind of like trying to remind myself that I do in fact exist and I am at an age where I could easily be painting the fence as my wife and kids play on the Fisher-Price swingset on the background. —- Okay this is getting ridiculous, you’re reading this because A.) You are bored or B.) You feel an obligation to humor me and tell me that you read my blog post. Not because C.) You’re not sure what you’re doing in life either but you’re doing it and you don’t need to hear some peer bitch and moan about the same feelings you are familiar with. YOU ARE HERE FOR THE STORIES ABOUT POOPING IN THE OCEAN AND COUGHING UP NASTY CRAP. Well friend, you are at the right place.

THURSDAY

I basically packed for two weeks. I used this trip as a chance to rid my life of tons and tons of shit that I would never normally throw away. I’ve been living in the confines of my parents rat cellar that stays nicely dank and cold with the occurrence of either a random cockroach or large ball-bodied cricket with huge back legs; both of which I’ve annihilated on a weekly basis. It was a total chick magnet. Really though, I figured there was a reason that all my roommate options had fell thru after leaving Kingsbury Manor and that helped point me towards CO in the end.

With the jetta packed to the gills, I peaced out to my mother and father and gave some hugs to last minute meetups with some friends. It was a totally shitty night to drive but I made it safe and sound to the Homewood Suites on the Kansas side of Kansas City.  My Uncle Bob just happened to be there for the night and let me sleep on the pullout couch. After some Family Guy, popcorn and cookies, I headed to bed to try and rest for the next day. I think I slept like 4 hours.

FRIDAY

Uncle Bobbers and I shared a huge breakfast of waffles, cereal, fruit, coffee and some square pizza. I ate like a holocaust survivor and stuffed some fruit into my pockets for the trip. I walked outside with my backpack hoping that my car hadn’t been broken in to and realized that it was still dark. It’s been awhile since I’ve been up that early. After replenishing my gas tanks, I headed out into the most beautiful place in the world – Kansas. Doesn’t ‘Kansas’ even sound nasty? It’s like melding two nasty words (Cancer & Ass) into one nastier word and using it to name an extremely flat and bleak looking place where people are supposed to live. No one I met in Kansas seemed very happy. I think this is because they subconsciously realize that their state sounds like ‘CancerAss’.

Speaking of life and living – you really start to think about life and death and happiness while driving across extremely flat expanses of land. Maybe that’s the benefit of Kansas; it’s devoid of anything too interesting so you can start thinking about your life without any beautiful landscapes to distract. While the blood in my body slowly started to pool in my butt I delved into fairly deep thoughts about what I am doing with my life, my current situation, wtf am I doing driving to Colorado, people that I care about, people that I don’t care about, girls, boys, friends, family, legacy, honor and everything in between. I can’t really say that I came to any earth-shattering conclusions but just a better understanding of what/who Kevin Kelly really is.

Finally, I crossed into Colorado. I decided to stop at the visitors center because it looked nice and welcoming and I had to urinate intensely. Inside I met the kindest old couple who offered me coffee and conversation. I don’t remember their names but the man told me that he had worked as a volunteer there for 20 years and had been a farmer before that. He married his wife 60 years earlier. He had lived 8 minutes away his entire life and seemed fairly happy (I wasn’t in Kansas anymore). He exclaimed to me that I need to find a woman while I’m here.

A few more hours and I finally arrived at the Boulder Rock Club and promptly fell asleep on the bench outside waiting for my friends. Boulder had suprisingly warm weather that quickly dissipated after the sun went down. Luckily, Patrick (Friend I am living with here) showed up with his girlfriend Katie and college friend Becca ready to get our climb on. For $20 bucks, we were able to climb and compete and enter a gear raffle party complete with pizza and beer. I was completely out of it but managed to climb okay and meet some more Estes Parkians who had traveled down the mountain to compete. The kids that were competing were amazing. One kid had an indians had cocked to the side and scrambled effortlessly up this route that I tried twice (on top rope!) and failed at. He was like a little hairless monkey.

After the comp, we headed up for some pizza and bitter IPA that made my lips purse. Patrick won a hat, Katie won a hat, Becca and Kevin won zilch. Wearily, I plopped into the passenger seat of my own car as Patrick drove us up the mountain to another new experience in Estes Park, Colorado.