American Fork Canyon, Ut.

The climbing:

I left 'Vegas and headed for Salt Lake City, Ut. I met my buddy from Eugene, Craig, at American Fork Canyon - the same place we'd been rained and snowed out of the last year. The first few nights it froze, but the days were perfect, and we made the most of it. Coming from Mt. Charelston this year helped. I was already used to steep, slippery limestone, and the rock here has holds everywhere. My first day, I was able to onsight the classic .11d, 'Division' on, you guessed it, the Division Wall. After a brief warm-up period, we decided to try to redpoint or onsight a 5.12 every day.

Even a visit to Maple Canyon didn't ruin our streak, but the weather stopped cooperating and cut our trip to the overhanging cobble area short. I left my bus behind, like I said I'd never do again, since the weather was looking so good. Arriving on a beautiful evening, I was sure I wouldn't need the tent I hadn't brought, and slept on my crash pad. Late in the night, I felt the first few drops and pulled a tarp over myself. I spent the rest of the night with the wet plastic glued to the side of my head while the thunderstorm poured water down on me. The next morning, we headed into Box Canyon to check it out. The rock looks like a riverbed tipped up ninety degrees and beyond. It was dry enough, as a result, to climb and we had a great time learning the tricks to pulling on huge Quartz holds. Unfortunately, the thunderstorms returned before the day was half over, sending lightning and a downpour that caused a flash flood right in front of us in the narrow canyon. The wind was impressive, too, knocking rocks into the canyon from the rim, and sending the roof from a nearby turkey barn hundereds of feet through the air to land in the road.

We'd tried to visit Timponagas Cave the previous year, but found that we were too early in the tourist season. This time we took the oppertunity on a rest day and, with my good friend Sarah, took the guided and well-rehersed tour. This particular cave's claim to fame is the tiny tube-shaped crystals growing all over the walls in some of the rooms. Very neat in person, but nearly impossible to get on film. Craig was, as always, gearing up for some wacko 50 or 100 mile foot race, so we did a good bit of running around the nearby roads and trails. He was surprised to find that, at least in this neck of the woods, running was not only discouraged but considered hazardous.

The weather improved once again, but with time running short, we remained in American fork. One of the many diverse crags here, The Hideaway, is home to the best rock in the Canyon. I had worked on a long, sustained route here the week before, and thought I'd try for a final attempt. Even giving it everything I had, I failed to redpoint 'Bamboo' .12b and had to end the day disappointed. My elbows had begun to really hurt, after two weeks at Mt. Charelston and two weeks at American Fork. I decided to cancel my plans to go to Rifle, Co. and Lander, Wy. and just try to heal up before the big second half of my trip in Canada.