Clear Creek Golf

Not long ago the fellas of mancamp were sitting around talking endless about some inane subject, probably related to climbing (per the usual) when our boy Bronco struck upon an idea for a little game. He began making a list of the best 5.12 sport routes in Clear Creek Canyon. The list ended up being a perfect 12, “The Twelve 12s of Clear Creek,” if you will. They are (in the rough order we attacked them):

Trying hard on Ten Digit Dialing (5.12c)

Trying hard on Ten Digit Dialing (5.12c)

Wet Dream 5.12a

Ten Digit Dialing 5.12c

Anarchitect 5.12d

Presto 5.12c

Anarchy Rules 5.12b

Power Trip 5.12a

Slammer 5.12b

Great Escape 5.12c

Ken’Tanks 5.12c

Quartz Sports 5.12b

Sucking My Will to Live 5.12c

Moving Out 5.12b

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Anarchy, Pure Anarchy

Les sending

Les sending.

Anarchitect is an uber-classic 5.12d sport line in Clear Creek Canyon at the aptly named Anarchy Wall. I got on it once last October, and was planning to go back the next day, but our day got sidetracked when a chick blew her basejump and pounded into the wall…read about that crazy day here.

Anywho, I finally made it back to that beautiful wall yesterday. Our boy Les had been working it and fallen a few times painfully close to the top. We warmed up. We traded burns. Les fell on his first two, but like a true champ sacked up and sent on his third go of the day. In case you’re wondering, three burns on a 5.12d within a few hours is pretty exhausting so mad props to our boy.

As for myself: I felt solid, made it through the crux moves on my second go, so if I can make it back up there (shouldn’t be a problem since its a 10 minute drive from our place and a 5 minute approach) the send should go down soon.

Anarchitect has a pretty interesting little side story. A few years ago Read more…

Quite a Weekend

A bit belated…

When Arnie and Andrew picked me up from the airport last Wednesday, they stated the obvious, “We’re taking you straight to Whiskey Wednesday.” (Every Wednesday at the Sundowner in Boulder $3 gets you a whiskey shot and a glass of PBR.) The night ended predictably at Round Midnight, with our owning the dance floor; literally, there was no one else on it but us. Also predictably, it fell to me to pilot us home to Golden.

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