With skis, in dire need of grinding, strapped to the top of the runner we headed a couple hours south to 700 vertical feet of sand aka Little Sahara. Without any motors to get up the hill, we planned for a late night start when there was relief from the sun. However, driving up to the dunes in the dark they were swarming with ATV lights creeping like ants into their hill. Arriving at the base we strapped our skis to our backs and started weaving our way up the ridge to the night sounds of crickets, motors, and echoing sounds of Beiber. The ride down was definitely far short of epic, but worth the experience of saying we did it. We did a final run in the wee hours of the morning, sans motors and Beiber, when the camp was in deep hung over state. The sight was beautiful, another natural oddity of sorts.
Though not fully my <<climbing roots>> as titled, Idaho does hold a lot of firsts and lessons learned. First multi-pitch, first lead, first mishap, first bail, and first booty (all in climbing terms, of course haha).
The trip was a great relief from the SLC valley heat. We spent the weekend with C, S, and their 4 boys visiting and playing around on a local cliff. 4 boys...need I say more? We're training them young, so one day they will be guides for us! All the boys, even Steve, with Collete's (my flannel wearing cohort) motherly persuasion and example rappelled and ascended like champs. As much as we do make fun of Idaho it is a pretty rad state (primarily due to the Stosich clan).
P.S. I was on fireman, so excuse all the bum shots.
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