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 Meditations at 10,000 feet
By Richard F. Fleck - I slowly amble toward the Beartooth Range looming above ten thousand feet and gaze at gray gigantic granitic uplifts carved with glaciated and snowy cirques, when I begin to feel a kind of syncline elevating my mind ever upwards to the highest summit bearing the name of Granite Peak that rises to 12,799 feet  Solo
I remember like it was yesterday, or a couple weeks ago anyway. Standing there looking up, the mountain staring back like a master to his pup. Fully equipped but still so scared, of what lie ahead of me and why I dared. To climb this cliff side up to its peak, and claim the reward I was there to seek.  Snake Bit at Turkey Tank
Turkey Tank, near Flagstaff, Arizona, is one of the primo bouldering / trad top rope spots to be seen, touched, or tasted, at least in my limited travels across America. I have moved over stone since the mid 1970's, I've been from a sweet spot to learn this game at Cosumnes River Gorge outside Placerville, California, to, a little further down the road Sacramento's or Roseville's Deer Park.  We are lizard people... moving over stone
I'd been living in Flagstaff, Arizona, at the edge of the Navajo Reservation, on the road to Hopiland. A great bouldering spot - Turkey Tank - is in range of my two-wheel aluminum mule. On the basalt walls of this canyon are many petroglyphs, some are snakes, others are lizards. Hopi and Anasazi symbols. Important links to Mother Earth.  Alien on the Rocks
The desert wind is howling. The zephyr is dry as the sand beneath my pedals. I'm riding my bike west across the Arizona outback starting a solo journey. The invisible hand pushing against me is my first real task. The wind makes my skin prickle, it wraps around me like a bear hug. Mile after lonely mile, I get a chance to think a lot.  The Climbing Personality and Proficiency Exam for Potential Partners
By Elijah Merrill - Let’s face it: we, the intelligent beings that we are, are relying more and more on tests to make decisions for us. We seek guidance for just about every aspect of our life, which means two things: it is either a reflection of our species's confidence in our decision making abilities, or it may just be that we’re too damn lazy ...  MY CLIMBING STUDENT, A DUMB ASS OF A HORSE
By David Sweetland - Call him youth-at-risk, juvenile delinquent, mad, malcontent, morose, a kid with ADHD or maybe a touch of autism? Dyslexic? Poly addicted. Addicted to Poly. I was once hooked to Susan. Usually what is connected with addiction in psychotherapeutic lingo is co-dependency and rescuing.  The Crux
A Short Story by Steve Quinn - As she awoke she heard the sound of the ocean, and then felt the tepid water that filled her boots and the rough sand against her knees and elbows. Lacing sandy fingers across her face she carefully opened her eyes to brilliant sunshine. The first thing was that she was on a beach of incredibly white sand, turquoise water lapping at her legs ...  In Defiance of "The Edge"
Story and photos by “Alpinista Hombre” (Aaron McAdams) - The mountain climber achieves a momentous feat and bellows, “Conquest at last!” A great moment of satisfaction has been achieved. Returning to camp from a great adrenal blitz, the climber moves to celebrate the day and looks back at the mountain with new admiration ...  Guadalupe Peak - High Above the Mesquite
By Richard F. Fleck - Our trail ascends the way past waxy leaves of Madrone trees with smooth and reddish trunks and on up past some blooming cholla in a cold March wind, and higher toward a limestone ledge washed with desert varnish looming above a pinon forest lending voice to the constant gusty winds of western Texas.  NON CLIMBING in the SOUTHWEST
By David Sweetland - A road trip is a good initial experience with the southwest. With Tony and Terrence, in about 1976, winter, we left from Sacramento, California. First stop Ogden, Utah, to see an old girl friend (not geriatric). Then some ice climbing in Little Cottonwood Canyon. Onto Zion and the beginning of our non climbing in the southwest — the four corners where Colorado, Utah, New Mexico, and Arizona meet. We knew — read — Pratt and Abbey as gurus and followed their lead.  Keeping Up With Mini While Climbing Mount Wheeler
By Richard F. Fleck - We camped in Taos Valley on a cold September night while Mini, my blond cocker spaniel, danced around the tent as we tried to get some needed sleep before our tiring climb of Wheeler Peak.  Watermelon Peak
By Richard F. Fleck - On a pleasantly warm February day down Albuquerque way where plum blossoms scent the air, I look through my window at Sandia Crest sprinkled with a fresh morning layer of sugar snow and I know I must arise and go to the mountain's edge where prickly pear cactus and yuccas grow.  Old #5 - A Love Story
By Kurt Krueger - Illustrations by Judy Parenlo I started out belonging to a young, romantic white liberal (read that idealistic) college guy. His boots told me he had been climbing four times. They weren't too impressive, well broken in from walking, but the edges were rounded from feet flying off small footholds. The guy obviously used a lot of arms.  The Last Cowboy Song
By Volker K.S. Dankmeyer - I stared at the broken ice axe lying among the rocks at my feet. A shattered wooden hilt and rusted pick gave a sudden eeriness to this landscape as a shiver shook my body. A few worn leather straps and the remains of a crampon ...  Specimen Mountain
By Richard F. Fleck - In my ranger days, it was my duty to lead a group of ten or twelve straight up the slopes of volcanic Specimen Mountain above Milner Pass.  Front on, Fronters - An Outsider's Season in Rifle
By Jake Hjorten - Okay, yes, I get it. You climb 5.13, probably 5.14. You're sick strong. You can get a knee bar rest everywhere with a fancy rubbery, glued, duct-taped kneepad.  BOLT RUN, my roadside attraction: Trout Fishing in the Nude
By D.S. AKA Preston Tierra - This article is NC 17! Bolt Run, my roadside attraction, is a 5.10d (some say 5.11) sport route at old Donner Summit, California, near paleolithic Lake Tahoe. Right on the old highway, hence the name, below the old bridge built in 1926, that 1950's Olympic skier Mad Dog Dick used to fly his plane under then do barrel rolls over ancient Lake Donner ...  Laramie Peak
By Richard F. Fleck - Bouncing along in a jeep toward distant Laramie Peak on the high plains of Wyoming, I think I must be some sort of charging bison stampeded by my own desire to climb a mountain of such a perfect pyramid shape standing so purple on the horizon.  The Olde Days
By Jarrett Tishmack - Now climbing in my time was a far stretch from today Wooden shoes, chain mail helmets and ropes made of hay And now that I'm old; my bones to brittle to climb I can't help but reminisce of that long ago time. |
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