Katy leading 'Gracies Eight' in the Far East
Shannon leading up 'Man Servant' on Magoo Rock
Katy working out the moves on 'Horseshoes and Hand Grenades'
A day at the ranch with new friends Mike (left) and Scott
Katy's favorite evening passtime at the ranch.
Exfoliation weathering on the granite domes of Enchanted Rock.
The blossom of a Prickly Pear cactus
Almost there! Shannon climbing 'The Controversy'
Googley eyed Foxy and Chili hangin' on the Horseshoe Canyon porch.
Katy calls this one "Sneaky Monkey"
"Get the golden grahms...in case it's epic!" Shannon yelled from the safety of the Enchanted Rocks State Park bathroom overhang. We had spent the day hiking around the park in intermittant rain, climbing trees to watch turtles and gazing mouths open at the hoards of blooming wildflowers and cactus. This was before a park employee warned us about the tornado watch/thunderstorm warning that was in effect for ....drum roll...our exact location, and told us to find shelter. This park employee came just after a gentleman shifted everything he was carrying in his hands for his picnic just to tip his hat when he said hello. We were in the heart of Texas and a thunderstorm was a brewin'. The winds picked up, the vultures stopped circling the granite domes, and Katy fumbled in the back of the Jeep for the storm essentials: headlamps, rain coats, campchairs, Yatzee and of course...Golden Grahms. The storm raged as Shannon, on her second game of Yatzee ever managed to roll two, yes two, Yatzees. Needless to say she won and Katy, who may or may not take Yatzee very seriously, threatened to put a premature end to both the friendship and the trip. The storm blew over and the evening found us relaxing in our campchairs, watching lightening spiderweb across the evening skies. The rain put a damper on our climbing...(i.e. totally shut us down). Disappointed but in good spirits we departed Enchanted Rock State Park in search of sunny weather. (Side note: Two weeks have passed and we are yet to see the "elusive buring dot in the sky"...or "the sun" as we've heard it called.)
Our search for the sun took us to Austin and for the first hour as we biked around taking in the city, it seemed our search was over. However, it was short lived. Within moments it was raining "armadillas and javelinas." We think the rain in Texas has magical powers because all of a sudden we looked down and there were beers in our hands. "Oh golly!" Katy exclaimed. "What do we do with these??" "Gee, I reckon we better drink 'em." Shannon replied matter of factly. Two hours later found us reading books at the library. (Okay, that, or dancing and singing "Hey Mickey" onstage with the Spazmatics, a helmet-clad, pocket protector wearin', Revenge-of-the-Nerds-type 80's cover band.)
The next morning we experienced a phenemenon we have come to call the "One Inch Rule." You may recall such things as "Einstein's Theory of Relativity, Newton's Laws of Gravity, and Murphy's Law." The "One Inch Rule" may as well join the list. The "One Inch Rule" opperates on the principle that Katy and Shannon, when departing a given location, cannot exceed one inch of map distance in less than three hours. In laymans terms we have not been able to get further than 60 miles from any location in a reasonable amount of time. The reasons for the time delay vary, but the result is always the same: three hours have passed and we're still listening to the same radio station, having not driven out of range of its towers.
When we departed Austin, we were still oblivious to this phenomenon. However, because of Katy's refusal to make sense of a common road map and Shannon's determination to make it all the way to Arkansas using only the car's eletronic compass and Texas' county road system we soon found ourselves in a time vortex that we later attributed to the "One Inch Rule." Luckily, during our stint in the time vortex, we stumbled upon a new passtime, a passtime we call "Turtle-ing." When driving on Texas county road 363, which happens to be gravel, at the blinding speed of 15 mph, it's amazing what catches your eye...namely, turtles. We spent the better portion of the day with the car's compass reading N, E, or NE and our heads out the window turtle-ing. "Turtle-ing" means we are looking for new friends that wear green hard casings, or "shells" if you will. We could go on forever about turtle-ing, but we won't...we'll spare you the details. We will tell you that as of today, we still do not have a turtle...
Oddly enough, we did not make it to our destination that day. Even more perplexing was that the next day it took us all of 9 hours to make it 120 miles to Horseshoe Canyon Ranch. Horseshoe Canyon Ranch is a little utopia tucked in the Ozarks near the town of Jasper, Arkansas. It’s a dude ranch, where horses, goats, and goat dogs roam the meadows and far outnumber the people. Cliff bands of spectacular overhanging juggy sandstone make up the walls of this little oasis. These walls seem to protect the valley, more so than Foxy the googley eyed, tick infested ranch dog that followed us up to the crag the first day. (Don’t get us wrong, we seriously considered kidnapping Foxy…but we're not sure how she'll get along with our future pet, Turtle.) As we sat on the porch the first morning waiting for the drizzle to let up…a little red car pulled in. We waved and smiled and soon we had two new friends…Scott and Mike. The four of us made our way up to the North 40. Mike and Scott jumped on the most overhanging route possible. We swallowed the lumps in our throats and headed for “The Green Goblin” a route we thought might actually house a little green monster. It unfortunately did not. However, as we looked around from the base of the route, we saw a younger guy in a cowboy hat cooking a can of corn on a stove and a group of hooligans drinking beer. We're pretty sure that none of them ever climbed, they were just there...great accents and all. The highlights of our stay at Horseshoe Canyon Ranch included pushing our climbing limits on the overhanging routes, stomping around in horse manure in our flip flops to help the head wrangler Joey to earn a night's camping, and countless late nights laughing with our great new friends Scott and Mike. The colorful, big-hearted people combined with the phenomenal climbing made it hard to leave, but the rain pushed us onward.
So where are we now, you ask? If you answered "institutionalized, wearing straight jackets, dictating this story to a state-appointed therapist." ...well...we can see why you think that. But, after another run-in with the "One Inch Rule" and a quick stop in Memphis, to pay our tributes to the King we find ourselves sitting in a coffee shop in Chattanooga, Tennessee. And, you'll never guess what we're doing...waiting for it to stop raining. (Side note: If anyone knows any anti-rain rituals please leave them in the comments section of this blog.)
