"Kriegman -- you're a wimp!"
This is what I yell at a professor of Computer Science. I have no idea who this professor is. I have never met him before. As a lowly undergraduate, I feel a certain sense of blasphemy and uncertainty in my action.
But no matter. I am a man on a mission. Sent by John Peterson to act as his proxy, I demonstrate that he can strike from afar -- any place and any time -- to inflict maximum psychological damage on his climbing partners when they least expect it. It seems a bit unfair to me considering the damage he does even when they do expect it, but then again, playing with fire gets you burned.
I quickly apologize for the strange greeting, as I explain my assignment to Kriegman. He understands, and we have a brief (and amicable) chat before I am on my way. The last of my things to do before I leave for my spring break trip to Red Rocks has been accomplished.
As I relate this story to John at the baggage claim at McCarran Airport, he's bent double from laughter, obviously pleased with himself. But the hour is late, and we need to get an early start tomorrow since John must be back at the airport by noon to catch his flight home.
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My partner Cara doesn't know it yet, but I am sure tomorrow is going to be interesting. We'll be climbing with John, and there's a time constraint to boot. I am fully prepared to accept chaos, but I am concerned as to whether Cara and I will still be on speaking terms after subjecting her to a full dose of John Peterson.
The next morning sees a relatively humane start of 6 AM. The frumpy biomass we tripped over en route to the bed last night turns out to be a young climber named Anthony. He and John will be a rope team today, and Cara and I will be the other. Our plan is to climb Cat in the Hat and be back at the airport by noon. For you literature type people out there, here is some foreshadowing for you: ha.
As we pull into the Pine Creek parking lot, I am astounded to see eight other cars there. Yikes... John is sprinting down the trail before the car has come to a complete stop, which is quite a feat considering he is the driver. Anthony follows soon thereafter, while Cara and I are still getting ready.
We start down the trail and soon are in a predicament. Neither of us has been here before, and we don't have a guidebook, as our expectation is that we would be following John the entire way. There is no sign of John or Anthony, and our method of selecting which fork in the trail to take is completely random.
The comedy of errors has begun, and it's not even 7 AM yet.
I should mention at this point that we also lack a rack. John's plan is for the two rope teams to climb Euro style wherein his definition of "Euro" is this:
- The second leader climbs immediately after the first leader after giving a two-piece head start, clipping the gear the first leader has placed. Of course, the first leader's rope is unclipped to reduce rope drag.
- At the belay station, each leader belays his respective second. Repeat for each pitch.
The idea is that a four-person team can now move almost as fast as a two-person team. I'm sure that real Europeans would laugh fearfully upon hearing this idea and move quickly (but without sudden movements) as far away from you as possible, never breaking eye contact or turning their back to you.
Anyway, Cara and I somehow find the base of the route, and we launch up. The pitches fly by, and most of my time is spent clipping Anthony's gear and listening to John's heckling and Cara's resultant laughter.
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We move fast and are done with the route with what seems like plenty of time. The raps slow us down a bit, and by the time we are back on the trail, John is in panic mode. The resulting scene is pure comedy.
Now John is a tall fellow, and when he wants to get somewhere, he usually wants to get there fast. I have no idea how he can hike so damn fast, but it sure ain't his technique, as he walks somewhat like a duck. He also trips over himself once in a while, necessitating a small shuffle step every ten paces or so.
Even so, Cara, Anthony, and I have to jog to keep up with him.
And so now, picture a tall man who doesn't look like he is trying very hard to move fast waddling and trip-shuffling down the trail, being followed by three short people who definitely look like they are trying very hard to move fast as they half walk and half run to keep up with the lumbering giant. Add the constant tinkling sound of metal on metal and packs bouncing in random directions, and you've got a veritable Shriner's parade.
We finally arrive at the car and scream down the loop road at 80 mph. A woman walking her dog in the middle of the road in the wrong direction doesn't seem to appreciate this so much, but we ignore her helpful comments and blaze on. We are able to get John to the airport by 12:30 and can finally breathe again.
It's been a great half-day to kick off what promises to be an adventure-filled week.
