The next day we had a ceremonial shaving of the heads. Hugo, our friend from Los Angles and “trailer park mate” did the shaving. He had shaved his own head a few days before. So we became the four. The four bald Americans. It was pretty classic, but my mom probably would have cried if she saw me. It was however, probably the dumbest decision any of us had made the entire trip because the next days at the cliff were extremely cold and windy. It became our scapegoat to say things like, “I would have stuck that move if I had Hair”, or “I would totally go ask that couple for a ride back to the campsite if I had hair, but I look ridiculous”.

So what now? Now I sit in our oversized, stationary mobile-home, typing away on Jon’s Lap-top with ravaged fingers, cut up on my right hand from not fully committing to the dyno on 3 Degrees of Separation, and instead raking off the sharp jug. See, as soon as one epic ends, another one begins, if you’re as blessed with as much time to climb as I am at the moment ... Well, I better go meet Jon and Matt in town. If I don’t leave soon it might be tricky Hitching back up from town later, especially if it gets dark. Maybe I’ll have an ice cream, mint sounds good, maybe tiramisu. Maybe I’ll buy a ticket to Mallorca while in town. I bet the weather isn’t bad there right now. I just hope I can stick that dyno from the ground tomorrow. Only time will tell.