As I listened to Bob Marley sing a melodious yet melancholy song about revolution and love I pulled my hat down sinking lower in my little camping chair trying to soak up as much of the sun as I possibly could. My breakfast was cold and uninspired but I was full and couldn’t complain about the view. The Eastern Sierras spread out before me in a never ending disruption of what would otherwise be a perfectly straight horizon. I pondered how grateful I was for the small things in life, such as: the wind had stopped blowing, I had the conscious foresight to bring two sleeping bags, I wasn’t wearing jean shorts, and even though I had not sent anything yet I wasn’t hurt and my car was in perfect working condition. This escape from reality is instantaneously intoxicating. Time only becomes relevant as far as measuring the day light you have to pursue this beautiful activity, and friends become a lifeline to keeping you engaged in exuberance and chaos. Everything is funny, and status is like a relic from some forgotten society once worldly and dominating and now extinct and irrelevant. Beauty is everywhere and within everything and it becomes so much clearer to me why this lifestyle is so attractive and relentlessly magnetic.
Iron Man Traverse.
Our lovely campsite at the Sads. There were probably more boulder problems in this small vicinity than there are in some established areas in Leavenworth (no offense Leavenworth).
Monday:
Barring our harrowing experience with I-50 and 395 on our way down, our first true day in Bishop was as blue bird as they come. We naturally headed straight to the Milks and proceeded to warm up by just standing in close proximity to the Iron Man traverse. The sun radiated off of this beautiful white face and before you knew it I was sweating buckets without even putting my shoes on. Oh yeah, let me introduce my traveling companions as well as the good friends we met up with and spent the next 5 days with:
Jimmy and Kevin made the trip down with me, and we met up with Jeremy, Derek, Reese, and Olcay (pronounced Ol-jai).
Barring our harrowing experience with I-50 and 395 on our way down, our first true day in Bishop was as blue bird as they come. We naturally headed straight to the Milks and proceeded to warm up by just standing in close proximity to the Iron Man traverse. The sun radiated off of this beautiful white face and before you knew it I was sweating buckets without even putting my shoes on. Oh yeah, let me introduce my traveling companions as well as the good friends we met up with and spent the next 5 days with:
Jimmy and Kevin made the trip down with me, and we met up with Jeremy, Derek, Reese, and Olcay (pronounced Ol-jai).
Derrick: A.k.a The Short Necked Giraffe, a.k.a Big Diesel
Little Bro Reese: A.k.a The Quiet One, a.k.a Shadow Warrior
Jimmy: a.k.a Youngblood, a.k.a Flashito, a.k.a 'The Future Will Be Mine'
Kevin: a.k.a Johnny G Jr., a.k.a Mini G, a.k.a The Ripped Girl, a.k.a The Finnish'er, a.k.a The Whipping Boy, a.k.a Rainbow Brite
Olcay: a.k.a Chris Sharma, a.k.a Beast from the Middle East, a.k.a Old Guy, a.k.a 300 Extra, a.k.a Relentless!
Jeremy: a.k.a J-Dawg (woof woof) a.k.a Jesse's Shower a.k.a Jeremy Spoke in Class Today a.k.a Mr. Witty
Iron Man was a grease-fest but for Kevin’s first time in Bishop his flash ascent of this line was very impressive. As we trekked through the milks checking out lines like Haroun and the Sea of Stories and Fly Boy we made stops at Soul Slinger and High Plains but only climbed on Soul Slinger. This is definitely a sweet line with great holds until the peak of the crux which is on a dreadfully small crimper and poor side pull. I was not strong enough to pull past these heinous grips but I did really enjoy climbing on the line.
Mini G on the first big move of Soul Slinger.
Our last stop at the milks for the day was well worth it. The Grandpa Peabody boulder is less of a boulder and more of a miniature version of a small planet. Its overhanging face is beautifully streaked with neon lemon/lime lichen and populated by perfectly spaced and molded for climbing hand holds. I wanted to see it for myself and yes, it is remarkable. Lucid Dreaming is truly one of the hardest boulder problems I’ve touched and just from feeling that little pinch I was amazed and disgusted at the same time that someone was able to deadpoint that little hold. The little pile of rocks stacked beneath Evilution was covered with two small pads as someone was trying the first dead point crux. Jimmy was foaming at the mouth for this line and strapped on the Dragons and got to work. I strapped on the tri-pod and got to clicking off some shots and video just in time to record him swinging up the face like a monkey. Very cool! I’m extremely motivated now to come back and try this climb.
Jimmy snags the first big crux move, on Evilution to the Lip.
Our first day was definitely a full blown 180 from the day before spent cramped in my car for 18 hrs. and it wasn’t over yet. We spent the remainder of the fleeting day light at the Happy’s where we ran into a dazed and somewhat confused bunch of our friends on their way out. We had already pitched our tents at their very comfortable camp site near the upper parking lot for the Sad boulders so we continued our journey. We ran a literal send train on Jug Start To Acid Wash Right but got shut down on the frame bending drop knee of the sit start. We finally migrated to Morning Dove White (lovingly re-named by our group as Pigeon Shit White) and made some good progress but got shut down by yet another Bishop drop knee. What is it with the Happys and drop knee’s?? Okay, the first day was in the books and we were ready for some sweet lovin’ by the fire.
Tuesday:
I awoke to ascend the small scramble near our camp and stand on top of the volcanic table lands. I wanted to check out the Sierra Nevada Mt. Range but it was almost completely covered in a newly formed weather system and it looked like the Buttermilks were getting dumped on by Mother Nature. We had planned to climb at the Happys all day anyway so it was no great loss. The sun was blazing when we arrived at Central Happiness but it didn’t last all day. The warm ups were so good. Solarium is so timeless; a cool little V.2 arête whose name evades me, and of course the Hulk. I don’t know what it is about Central Happiness that inspires or provokes people to instantly set up tripods and I-pod stereos but in no time the dusty flat space between the boulders was crawling with them!
I awoke to ascend the small scramble near our camp and stand on top of the volcanic table lands. I wanted to check out the Sierra Nevada Mt. Range but it was almost completely covered in a newly formed weather system and it looked like the Buttermilks were getting dumped on by Mother Nature. We had planned to climb at the Happys all day anyway so it was no great loss. The sun was blazing when we arrived at Central Happiness but it didn’t last all day. The warm ups were so good. Solarium is so timeless; a cool little V.2 arête whose name evades me, and of course the Hulk. I don’t know what it is about Central Happiness that inspires or provokes people to instantly set up tripods and I-pod stereos but in no time the dusty flat space between the boulders was crawling with them!
Central Happiness! Olcay on Solarium.
Plus, what’s up with the occasional dirty, pad-less, creepy local who slinks from problem to problem with nary a word to say and only contempt for the masses in his eyes? I guess it’s a phenomenon of any world class bouldering scene, but it doesn’t make it any less sketchy. Maybe we’re the creepy ones in his eyes?
Kevin made another great send by shouldering through the Hulk and sending it in a style I have never witnessed before. Kudo’s Kev! Jimmy also managed to beast his way past the ridiculously crimpy dyno of Disco Diva for another hard send of the trip, NAILS! We eventually ended up at Pigeon Shit again and much progress was made with Olcay coming super duper close to landing the crimp out of the drop knee crux. I flailed. Our attention was turned to Every Color You Are and Mr. Witty with send trains almost materializing. Jeremy had an epic good time on Mr. Witty falling from the lip twice before destroying the last move and topping out for the only Oly’ send.
Jimmy came away victorious on Every Color You Are and I came away lucky enough to not have a concussion, yikes! After falling from the jug rail on ECYA 4 times in a row I decided my place was in the shadows deviously staring into the view finder of my camera.
Kevin made another great send by shouldering through the Hulk and sending it in a style I have never witnessed before. Kudo’s Kev! Jimmy also managed to beast his way past the ridiculously crimpy dyno of Disco Diva for another hard send of the trip, NAILS! We eventually ended up at Pigeon Shit again and much progress was made with Olcay coming super duper close to landing the crimp out of the drop knee crux. I flailed. Our attention was turned to Every Color You Are and Mr. Witty with send trains almost materializing. Jeremy had an epic good time on Mr. Witty falling from the lip twice before destroying the last move and topping out for the only Oly’ send.
Jimmy came away victorious on Every Color You Are and I came away lucky enough to not have a concussion, yikes! After falling from the jug rail on ECYA 4 times in a row I decided my place was in the shadows deviously staring into the view finder of my camera.
Olcay, Every Color You Are!
Mr. Witty himself on Mr. Witty.
Heinous techy crimps, AAAAAHHHHHH!
Time to unclench the butthole!
The day’s end was atop the rim of the canyon watching as Jimmy, Derrick, and another dude we met from Florida (no rocks?? No wonder he drove out here by himself!) bear hugged this massive double arête resembling the Atari symbol. My feelings were somewhat guarded at the time and I decided not to try it. I could hear a small violin being played for me somewhere in the distant landscape.
Rain approaches!
Derrick on Atari (a braver man than myslf).
The Florida Kid on Atari.
Flashito on the flash!
Again, we headed back to camp to bask in the glow of the fire. Unfortunately for us, a heavy wind decided to accompany our crew for the next day and two nights which made lounging by the fire with complete indiscretion an impossibility.
Wednesday:
The morning was spent trying to safe guard what little heat you could generate for yourself before the wind came along and stole it from you. It was, however, a beautiful day and we had plans to storm the Sads and see why it was such a gloomy place. If Bishop was to be compared to the gang from Winnie the Pooh, the Sad boulders would be like Eeyore. A lonely and dejected donkey, once caught in the crescendo of life’s great adventures, now left to rot in a pool of alcoholism and Quaaludes, forever asking someone to nail him in the rear. However, like Eeyore, the Sads have something to contribute to the misadventures of our little gang. Rio’s Crack is a beautiful line that begs for attention. We had an hour and a half sesh on this cool crimpy crack and just before we were ready to hang our heads in defeat Olcay screamed like a man and latched the deep incuts near the top and redeemed our sad efforts, every one of them.
Wednesday:
The morning was spent trying to safe guard what little heat you could generate for yourself before the wind came along and stole it from you. It was, however, a beautiful day and we had plans to storm the Sads and see why it was such a gloomy place. If Bishop was to be compared to the gang from Winnie the Pooh, the Sad boulders would be like Eeyore. A lonely and dejected donkey, once caught in the crescendo of life’s great adventures, now left to rot in a pool of alcoholism and Quaaludes, forever asking someone to nail him in the rear. However, like Eeyore, the Sads have something to contribute to the misadventures of our little gang. Rio’s Crack is a beautiful line that begs for attention. We had an hour and a half sesh on this cool crimpy crack and just before we were ready to hang our heads in defeat Olcay screamed like a man and latched the deep incuts near the top and redeemed our sad efforts, every one of them.
We ventured into the wind tunnel once more before finding solace in the cave of Pow Pow. All I have to say is: ‘Put the beer back in the fridge cause mama ain’t comin’ home tonight!’ What a sweet line! Jimmy made the obligatory ‘how do you do’ flash to jump start our two hour long entanglement with this problem. I refined and refined my beta until I was so worked that even after latching the ‘victory’ crimp I couldn’t lock it off to sweet victory. Thwarted again!! But I have to say, it’s a really good time hanging off of this refrigerator sized block. The adventure continues!!
A rare picture of the author crushing!!
With another sweet sesh under the belt we headed towards an even colder place, the Ice Caves. Brrrrrr. Were we mad? I should say NOT! We would have been mad NOT to go to the Ice Caves! Even though none of us climbed, save Jimmy, it was still cool to fully explore this Ali Babba hide out. Jimmy, eyes glowing red, set off on a wicked close flash ascent of Beef Cake, overloading the core just as his fingers began to curl around the last hold. He hopped back on and sent promptly so we could get the hell out of there and into the warm embrace of the Looney Bean.
That night we ate well at the Whiskey Creek Grill (third night in a row actually, due to the happy hour prices AMAZING!!) and sauntered about the streets of the sleepy town of Bishop. I came across a sweet bargain on a pair of used (just barely) five ten Anasazi Lace-ups (the white ones, now me and Dom can be shoe buddies! YES!!), while Kevin finally bought a pair of pants. We also caught a showing of the new Harry Potter flick (much better than ‘The Men Who Stare At Goats’) and readied ourselves for the wand waving good time with a pre-emptive strike on Rusty’s Saloon, where a rather ‘woodsy’ old man tried to hit on Kevin by explaining the difficulties of fighting off poisonous worms in an off width after receiving a flu shot. STELLAR night!
The Sads.
Thursday:
Wow, Thursday already?! We couldn’t handle the ever-encroaching truth that our once immortal-seeming adventures were now slowly decomposing to a close. With another blue bird on our shoulder we settled for a day at the Milks. Another warm-up sesh at the Beaten Donkey Wall (read: Iron Man traverse) had our forearms revving to go. Kev styled the campus version, showing us that even a ripped girl could piss on someone’s project (even if that someone was an 11 year old kid), and I showed everyone that flailing in style is better than just flailing.
Our warm-up led us back to the Buttermilker cave and I was staring down the barrel of a trip with zero sends so far, so I opted to hop on the softest thing I could think of: The Cave Route! With an imaginative name like that, how could it be sand bagged? I sent in a go or two and if asked I would recommend the line. It’s not particularly stunning or even that hard for a 6, but well worth doing. Team Olympia ended up running a train on this one as well and it was really cool to see Jeremy make the big move to the jug look easy. Kevin came super close to pressing out Gleaming the Cube, and before you knew it we were back at the base of Soul Slinger. I never did match my high point, but I got to watch like 4 or 5 tall guys float it like it was some POS warm up. Damn you genetics!!
The bulk of our crew floated on up the hill a ways to balance and crimp their way up Yayoi Right, a slabby tech climb that I shied away from. Olcay latched the rail at the lip but fell off after a foot pop, COME ON CHRIS!
The beautiful golden sun began to dip behind the mountains slowly and there we were. Along with 10 to 12 pads at the base of High Plains Drifter. Possibly one of the funnest climbs anywhere! My history with this line is long and protracted and a bit of a heartbreaker. Last year I flaked off the jug on my last day in Bishop and never got the send. As I gripped the starting holds I could feel the weight of history pressing down upon me (or maybe it was just my 175 pound stature?). It climbed just like I remembered it and after two burns I found myself gripped with terror and face to face with an icy 5.2 climb to the top of the boulder! The down climb wasn’t pretty and I could tell people were starting to ask each other if I belonged outside engaged in an activity such as this one. But, in the end I pulled off the send! YES! I spent the rest of the time snapping pics of the hordes of people that flocked to Bishop just to try this line. I also got some sweet footage of Olcay destroying the problem second go! Yeah CHRIS!
The Holiday led us to Vons (which is Californian for Safeway) and we bought beef, tortilla’s, and Makers Mark, oh my! The beef burrito dinner was a hefty one and the taco seasoning and salsa saved the day. We ate and drank and I think I killed like 14 or 15 marshmallows? Delicious. Happy Thanksgiving everyone.
Get Carter Boulder area.
The Short Necked Giraffe!
It was simply BALTIC at Get Carter.
SJ squeezing juice!
We cushioned the landing with our massive amount of pads and set out to destroy what little power and skin we had left. Last year I was able to hit the second hold with consistency but I wasn’t able to do the first big move. This year I surprised myself by doing the first move but cheese grated off the last hold 3 times (in agony)!!! By the end, my fingers simply would not close on the last sloping crimp at the lip and I simply had to let it go (both the problem and the hold). Jimmy gave some valiant efforts on the low start doing all the moves right up to the last throw but was denied access to the top as well. Derrick came out of the closet surprising everyone and made the first move look like some V.0 choss pile but was also denied by the second big move. All in all, we chilled in the sun and made the best of this monstrous problem.
It was the last day, and you know what? It was time for a group photo of Team Oly’:
We slowly made our way back to the Buttermilks main area where Center Direct and Go Granny Go bared their teeth at us. My tips felt as if someone was making me wipe the ass of a porcupine after feeding it broken glass. They hurt! But that didn’t stop me from completely destroying what little pride I had left on Smooth Shrimp. Jimmy and Kevin laughed as I struggled to redpoint this boulder problem, both of them casually flashing it, but I fought to hold on only to realize someone was playing a cruel joke on me because each hold had razor blades and shards of glass superglued to them. Damnit! The down climb was no less epic. Jimmy and Kevin gave some amazingly close burns on Bubba Gump but it was just too cold, and our skin was just too thin.
Another shorty CRUSHING!!
Well, that’s it. We tucked our tails and hit up the Town House Motel, after an absurd meal at the Pizza Factory (due to our late arrival at Whiskey Creek). The trip ended in typical Oly’ style, parked comfortably in front of a tiny television sipping Red Stripe looking and feeling like a beaten prisoner awaiting trial.
Wow, Thursday already?! We couldn’t handle the ever-encroaching truth that our once immortal-seeming adventures were now slowly decomposing to a close. With another blue bird on our shoulder we settled for a day at the Milks. Another warm-up sesh at the Beaten Donkey Wall (read: Iron Man traverse) had our forearms revving to go. Kev styled the campus version, showing us that even a ripped girl could piss on someone’s project (even if that someone was an 11 year old kid), and I showed everyone that flailing in style is better than just flailing.
Our warm-up led us back to the Buttermilker cave and I was staring down the barrel of a trip with zero sends so far, so I opted to hop on the softest thing I could think of: The Cave Route! With an imaginative name like that, how could it be sand bagged? I sent in a go or two and if asked I would recommend the line. It’s not particularly stunning or even that hard for a 6, but well worth doing. Team Olympia ended up running a train on this one as well and it was really cool to see Jeremy make the big move to the jug look easy. Kevin came super close to pressing out Gleaming the Cube, and before you knew it we were back at the base of Soul Slinger. I never did match my high point, but I got to watch like 4 or 5 tall guys float it like it was some POS warm up. Damn you genetics!!
The bulk of our crew floated on up the hill a ways to balance and crimp their way up Yayoi Right, a slabby tech climb that I shied away from. Olcay latched the rail at the lip but fell off after a foot pop, COME ON CHRIS!
Olcay on Yayoi Right.
I wish that I had Jesse's giiirrrll!
Kevy G on Yayoi Right.
The beautiful golden sun began to dip behind the mountains slowly and there we were. Along with 10 to 12 pads at the base of High Plains Drifter. Possibly one of the funnest climbs anywhere! My history with this line is long and protracted and a bit of a heartbreaker. Last year I flaked off the jug on my last day in Bishop and never got the send. As I gripped the starting holds I could feel the weight of history pressing down upon me (or maybe it was just my 175 pound stature?). It climbed just like I remembered it and after two burns I found myself gripped with terror and face to face with an icy 5.2 climb to the top of the boulder! The down climb wasn’t pretty and I could tell people were starting to ask each other if I belonged outside engaged in an activity such as this one. But, in the end I pulled off the send! YES! I spent the rest of the time snapping pics of the hordes of people that flocked to Bishop just to try this line. I also got some sweet footage of Olcay destroying the problem second go! Yeah CHRIS!
Big Diesel screaming in the scorching sun on the slippery arete of Popes Prow.
Aaawww, it's a boy!
I couldn't stand up because I was too scared...
The sun had gone and it was time to go…to the GET CARTER BOULDER! We made one last stop in the Baltic conditions of the evening in order for team Oly’ to sample one of Bishop’s finest: Seven Spanish Angels. I donned a poncho and a can of blue ribbon and sat about to try to capture everyone’s attempts.
Twin Cracks Left.
First: Kevin got it in two attempts, then Olcay flashed it (Come on CHRIS!), then Jeremy finally sacked up and stuck the sharp jug, then some dude Jimmy knew who was working the line with us sent (and took a chunk out of his finger),
and then like three more dudes arrived and flashed the line! My god, it was like watching the sacking of Troy! I was sure Derrick with his gangly long arms would have no problem but his down fall was sorting out his feet and the lack of a good stance thwarted his attempts to propel himself to the jug. It was still a mighty good day at the Milks and on top of that it was Thanksgiving!
Olcay latches the SSA jug on his flash attempt! C'mon ChrIIIISSS!
The Holiday led us to Vons (which is Californian for Safeway) and we bought beef, tortilla’s, and Makers Mark, oh my! The beef burrito dinner was a hefty one and the taco seasoning and salsa saved the day. We ate and drank and I think I killed like 14 or 15 marshmallows? Delicious. Happy Thanksgiving everyone.
Get Carter Boulder area.
The Short Necked Giraffe!
It was simply BALTIC at Get Carter.
The Quiet Renfroe.
Friday:
I lay in my tent and hoped for sleep to come and take me away. The sun was at full blast and its warmth permeated my tents membrane. I recapped the week in my mind and knew that today was it. Tomorrow morning we would be locked in asphalt combat; jaws slack, finger tips burning, eyes frozen in a penetrating stare that seemed to burn holes in everything and nothing at the same time. I lazily rolled out of my tent for what would be the last time this year. The ‘bad boys from Oly’ were already huddled around the morning fire making breakfast and talking about flashing the Mandala. I joined them and after a much dreaded break of camp we were back at the Milks. We headed off to find The Painted Cave, a brilliantly white V.6 that is a four star classic. It was an amazing line. Probably the best I got on all trip. It had superb thuggy moves out of a small roof, a giant hueco, and sharp slopers (paradox?). The sun was blazing directly on the crux top out but we didn’t care. The whole crew got in on some sloper slappin’ but a send was just not in the cards. I lost a lot of skin on the large grained granite jugs and slopers of this line and it was well worth it. Painted Cave, I salute you!
I lay in my tent and hoped for sleep to come and take me away. The sun was at full blast and its warmth permeated my tents membrane. I recapped the week in my mind and knew that today was it. Tomorrow morning we would be locked in asphalt combat; jaws slack, finger tips burning, eyes frozen in a penetrating stare that seemed to burn holes in everything and nothing at the same time. I lazily rolled out of my tent for what would be the last time this year. The ‘bad boys from Oly’ were already huddled around the morning fire making breakfast and talking about flashing the Mandala. I joined them and after a much dreaded break of camp we were back at the Milks. We headed off to find The Painted Cave, a brilliantly white V.6 that is a four star classic. It was an amazing line. Probably the best I got on all trip. It had superb thuggy moves out of a small roof, a giant hueco, and sharp slopers (paradox?). The sun was blazing directly on the crux top out but we didn’t care. The whole crew got in on some sloper slappin’ but a send was just not in the cards. I lost a lot of skin on the large grained granite jugs and slopers of this line and it was well worth it. Painted Cave, I salute you!
Reese on The Painted Cave.
Team Oly’ finally gave up after coming so close and we all continued our march to the lonely Solitaire boulder. We met up with long lost WRG employee and Seattleite (as well as boulder crusher and self-proclaimed KOAN) Sam Johnson! He was busy working the awesomely divine and gymnastically aesthetic Solitaire.
SJ squeezing juice!
We cushioned the landing with our massive amount of pads and set out to destroy what little power and skin we had left. Last year I was able to hit the second hold with consistency but I wasn’t able to do the first big move. This year I surprised myself by doing the first move but cheese grated off the last hold 3 times (in agony)!!! By the end, my fingers simply would not close on the last sloping crimp at the lip and I simply had to let it go (both the problem and the hold). Jimmy gave some valiant efforts on the low start doing all the moves right up to the last throw but was denied access to the top as well. Derrick came out of the closet surprising everyone and made the first move look like some V.0 choss pile but was also denied by the second big move. All in all, we chilled in the sun and made the best of this monstrous problem.
It was the last day, and you know what? It was time for a group photo of Team Oly’:
We slowly made our way back to the Buttermilks main area where Center Direct and Go Granny Go bared their teeth at us. My tips felt as if someone was making me wipe the ass of a porcupine after feeding it broken glass. They hurt! But that didn’t stop me from completely destroying what little pride I had left on Smooth Shrimp. Jimmy and Kevin laughed as I struggled to redpoint this boulder problem, both of them casually flashing it, but I fought to hold on only to realize someone was playing a cruel joke on me because each hold had razor blades and shards of glass superglued to them. Damnit! The down climb was no less epic. Jimmy and Kevin gave some amazingly close burns on Bubba Gump but it was just too cold, and our skin was just too thin.
he Finnish'er not finishing...
Ooohhh, look at those Irish guns!
Another shorty CRUSHING!!
Well, that’s it. We tucked our tails and hit up the Town House Motel, after an absurd meal at the Pizza Factory (due to our late arrival at Whiskey Creek). The trip ended in typical Oly’ style, parked comfortably in front of a tiny television sipping Red Stripe looking and feeling like a beaten prisoner awaiting trial.
The next day came and went as slowly as this day has and the oddities and contrasting differences between where I was three days ago compared to where I am now are maddeningly clear. I’m staring at an 8 foot long panoramic shot of the Buttermilks, framed nicely by the Sierra Nevada Mt. range, which I took last Thanksgiving. It’s ironically hung in my 8X10 cubicle in which I’m doomed to spend at least 40 hours a week in, in order to pay for another trip to Bishop. A carrot if you will, that spurs this down trodden donkey onwards in pursuit of regaining even the tiniest glimpse of what heaven on earth looks and feels like.
If I nod off in your presence, even as you begin to talk about the comings and goings of your life, it is only because I have slipped away to a place where time is forgotten, the food is plentiful, fire conversations are jocular, witty, and warm, and the mind’s eye is open so wide that all positive and negative aspects of life blend together to create a perfect mixture of time and space, the light of which is so intense that if one were to live there they would be blinded by the beauty of its profound existence. For this reason, it is only right to visit it occasionally, for the appreciation of such a world can only grow exponentially in this way.
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