BCoF's Virtual 50 State Bucket List

California

         Here I am at Joshua Tree National Park in California. I am gasping in a desert not lounging on a beach. Deserts, (side bar: so many people spell this as desserts and I do have an affinity for them), are a different landscape for me. No deserts here at home. Sand tends to accumulate at beaches and mound in sand boxes.

         How could I resist Lyn's a Witchy Woman 's invitation to experience something with this exotic mouthful of a name monzogranite climbing mecca. Is not a mecca crowd-pleasing? I'm willing to proclaim myself as a Monzo afficionado.

         Here is where I should admit that heights and I are not sympatico. Since this is virtual rock climbing I will quell my nervousness.

         Climb Clean! Yes, I noticed that exhortation. I wouldn't dream of ascending a sand-covered rock in a dirty state. I approach my mountain fresh-scrubbed. Wide-eyed, afraid to blink describes me, 'cause I'm concentrating on my breathing and struggling to control my fanny and keep it far from the nooks and crannies that rattlesnakes are said to prefer. I am sweating even before I exert myself upon my bouldering expedition. I read the warnings re bees who seek any water source and I do not wish to be their personal water fountain.

         Reach new heights! I must say these climbing people are nothing if not enthusiastic. I reached new heights of exertion, endurance and hyper-vigilance. Look out. Be aware. Tread lightly. Watch where you put your hands. Share the rock! No nailing rocks! I got it. Touch, but do not over-do it.

         I did it! I bouldered. With my klutziness I opted to attempt the bouldering that guaranteed shorter routes with low heights. In other words, I climbed upon the bunny trail of small rock formations. I did not need to tangle myself with ropes or a harness. I especially approved of the crash pad. I did not try it's stopping/cushioning powers.

         I am not so certain that I successfully practised the leave no trace principles. Yes, I was aware of them, but they proved difficult to honour. Sorry, Joshua Tree officials. Scraping and slithering along the rough granite skinned my knees and elbows. I noticed a few finger nails failed to finish the ascent and descent with me. In other words, I left trace bits of my DNA behind. My blood, sweat and shredded skin are forever etched upon that monzogranite formation. Sigh. I gave this climbing my all.