The first night, we all had a meet and greet over beers, where I was introduced to Greg Lowe (the inventor/instigator of pretty much every device any climber has used). I immediately attached myself to his leg and humped like a poodle in heat in hopes of getting him to spill the beans on what he’s inventing next. This sage of engineering wouldn’t give all his secrets away, but he did reveal a bag of historic devices, iconic to the revolutions of our sport and reminded all in attendance that the future is bright indeed. 

The next day, I pulled away from the boulder field clean-up event and headed to the longer routes embedded into the hillsides. I’ve never quite touched rock like this before. Slick bullet-hard reddish quartz bands held plenty of sharp edges with fantastic routes, but the cracks were truly remarkable. Sandstone cracks like those in Zion a few hours away provide a gritty texture that holds against the skin and allows forgiveness for sloppy technique, but here in Ogden, the cracks are so polished that only technique will get a climber to the summit. In between my fingers popped the occasional sleepy hornet, cousins to the same hive operating out of Eldo (see previous blog), but the cool shade kept them calm and allowed me the ability to move around them on easier runs. The rest of the day went by in a blur between the slide shows, auction, and dinner, where the guests at my table were truly some of the kindest I’ve ever met, capped by a late night movie at the house we invaded for the occasion. 

The next day, we convened at Casa de Lowe, standing in a numb circle around the pile of gear needed for the day’s festivities. Jeff had suggested that we work together to put up a new route, to which we all heartily agreed during a third bottle of red wine, but looking at the 100 pounds of nonsense at our feet, with heads achy from the grapes, no one was volunteering to carry the load. Fortunately, Pete had to run inside to relieve his bladder, which gave us the ability to unanimously vote him to be the designated Sherpa during his absence. Ten minutes later, even with our head start, Pete responded by burying us in his dust as he pounded up the hill with the entire load in tow.