Once upon a time, some friends were out bouldering in late April in NH. The bugs were starting to swarm and the temps were too warm for sending. After spending a pleasant but only somewhat boulderingy day, the were headed for the car, lamenting the end of the good bouldering conditions, when along came a cheerful fellow with a pad on his back.
“Great first day of the bouldering season, eh?”
…
*Blank stare. Blink. Blink.*
I tell this story by way of illustrating how much more pointless and dull this blog is likely to be over the next few months. You definitely won’t be hearing about my sick climbing exploits, dude, because there won’t be any. (Which is different from the rest of the year how, exactly?) You probably won’t read any poorly-thought-out-but-mockable ramblings on the meaning of rock climbings. What you will get is a big stack of sickeningly self-indulgent, whiny posts about insects, sweat, and how heavy ropes are.
Buckle up; should be fun!
Type rest of the post here
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