(Edited out from the Day 3 report to make that more focused)

We had considered Day 1 a success with the drive from Los Angeles
and the first 3 pitches of Prince of Darkness.
I'd only slept 2 hours the night before.

Day 2 was a deeply satisfying trip up Honeycomb Chimney on Magic Mountain.
5.9, about 8 pitches, adventurous route-finding and rap.
Glorious squeezes, cracks, exposed faces. The final crack looks steep
and a bit fierce in a smooth corner, narrowing from a body pod
to smaller than fingers, but supplemental holds materialize
at just the right places to keep it moderate with smiles on our faces.
Every pitch I kept saying "man this would be an awesome picture,
I wish I didn't forget my camera today."
One of the most photogenic climbs I've been on.

My passion for climbing has been dulled in recent years,
and while admiring the views at belay stations, I philosophize
that it's because I don't have enough time to really get into it,
and I don't want to get my hopes up again and be frustrated
when I can't get out that often or have the ability to do
the cool lines that inspire me. But I feel the kindling again-
it's impossible not to when immersed in such beauty.

What made Day 2 even more of a success (for us) was our morning triumph
over a previous night's mishap. My Prius didn't quite clear a large rock
on the drive out of Black Velvet Canyon. A deep jarring more severe than the others.
Severe rattling ensues.
Headlamp inspection shows the pipe before the muffler in contact with
a severely bent metal structural plate
that might saw a hole through the pipe if I ignore it.
In the morning we wait an hour for a mechanic,
whose ultimate conclusion is he can't fix it.
The chassis is bent with the plate; if we just hammer the plate
the screw holes won't align. Would need to bend back the chassis too.
But it's cool seeing the car on a lift: years of camping adventures with my kids
have bent and scratched their stories into the underchassis.
It's a good thing my gas tank is plastic and pliable. Learn something new every day!
So... how to solve the rattling?
My partner is musing aloud about needing something soft and heat resistant.
I tell him "you're the material scientist, you figure it out!" And he does.
K-Mart is across the parking lot from the mechanic,
and 5 minutes later he's back with a silicone hot mitt he purchased for $1.08 including tax.
It looks like a little blue shark finger puppet.
I already had bailing wire in my car for the unknown,
and together we've got a beautiful solution.

[Click to View Linked Image]

[Click to View Linked Image]

So yes, Day 2 was glorious for us.

But the beauty was somewhat marred
and we were first annoyed by helicopters buzzing low in the valley on repeated trips,
but that turned to concern and compassion as we saw several trips
with short-hauled litters.
We later learned that a couple of hikers fell to their deaths:
http://www.reviewjournal.com/news/las-vegas/hiker-who-died-red-rock-canyon-called-hero

RIP

It is sometimes hard to make sense of the variability of life and our personal circumstances,
how we are out having a great day while for others it is their last
and family members are left to pick up the pieces.

Adding another layer of surrealism to the day,
a Lamborghini dangerously passed us on the loop road when we were coming in.
As it passed the next car heading in to a sharp right turn,
it accelerated dramatically, wheels spun and drifted,
and then the Lambo continued its straight trajectory off the embankment.

It was spinning like a flying saucer right in front of us,
at least 20 feet above the ground below it!
I screeched to a stop, and Ritwik was out instantly running toward the scene
and I was dialing 911 and a few seconds behind him.

Remarkably, the Lambo was upright, lodged against a clump of trees and bushes,
about 100 feet from the road down the steep embankment.
A quick inspection showed no obvious fire danger or fuel leaks,
and I turned off the car ignition
when we couldn't figure out how to turn off the blasting radio.

The driver was conscious, dazed, wearing his seat belt.
My first thought was to not move the guy.
His hands reaching up slightly in apparent shock.
Not being able to do much else, I held his hand.

He replied with his name when I asked, but didn't respond when I asked him what year it was.
I saw no bleeding or external injuries, didn't think to check his pulse.
I was about to check his pupils but by this time a small crowd had gathered,
and a nurse came who took over more competently.
A weird crowd dynamic started to form with people taking pictures,
and a lady who had reached the 911 operator was combative about
giving her phone to the nurse who could more competently relay information.

Seeing no more that we could do in the situation,
we continued along our personal journey.
What does it all mean?


As I write this, I'm feeling the weight of those moments
more than when I was experiencing them.
I feel guilty for writing an indulgent story about my fun adventures
when the world is crashing down for others.

And many more people around the world are living through unspeakable misery
while I traipse along blissfully unaware,
creating artificial challenges for myself because my boring life is too easy.
What do I do with this knowledge?

Some people are motivated to build a life out of service and helping others.
I have glimpsed the beauty and sense of reward that comes from moments of such service,
but I am not willing to make a lifelong commitment to surrender myself in service.

I see too much hurt in the world for me to stop the flood.
I stop enough to salve my own sense of guilt or responsibility,
to sample the spiritual pleasure of giving, but not more.
At heart I am a selfish hedonist.
I do what I can for others in need,
and will continue to find the joy and passion on my own life path.

I'm not fully resolved there, but for now it is what it is.