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Editor's note: This TR submitted by The Irishman The Boston Red Sox are two games away from winning the World Series and ridding themselves of the Curse of the Bambino for good. I'm convinced that in doing so, they've passed off part of the curse onto me. Maybe they knew that I was only cheering for them last week because I didn't want to see the Yankees in the World Series again and that I could care less about who won at this point. Three strikes that a chimpanzee would have no trouble calling were thrown my way before the climbing had even started. However, little did the Red Sox pitching crew know about my sentiments about the Three Strikes Law. With a forecasted high of 53 degrees for Saturday and the usual "Slight Chance of Precipatation" that has always in my experience materialized into a downpour, I convinced the real Slim Shady that conditions at the storied Cookie Cliffs would be perfect. We arrived at the Taqueria with plenty of time to spare on Friday night, 9:45, a respectable 15 minutes before closing. Johnny had my carne asada (that's beef, Janelle) burrito ready to go before I made it to the cash register. As we walked out, something caught Charles' attention under my car and he turned to me with both eyebrows raised. A pool of coolant was steadily growing beneath my not so trusty Subie. We hung out for a bit and the leak seemed to slow down. With plenty of coolant in the tank still and some extra water in the car, I decided to take my chances. We kept an eye on it for the rest of the weekend and it never leaked again. A curve ball. [I will make it clear here that never again will I buy a Subaru and I would recommend that even for my worst enemies.] I pulled up to the usual spot around midnight, not too far from an old truck with a trailer. In the wee hours of the morning, we heard a loud noise but went back to sleep immediately. When we finally woke up, there were lots of people around the trailer and we heard our names. It was Daniel Soto along with the rest of the bouldering crew (Raza, Lynn, Ken, Steve, etc.). "So, I guess you guys aren't light sleepers, huh?" It turns out a hunter had been sleeping in the trailer with a propane heater running all night. In the morning, when he tried to light a lantern, he ignited the gas trapped in the trailer as well. Not only did the explosion bend the solid steel doors on the trailer, the poor guy was burnt badly when Daniel and company found him. They took him to the ranger station where he was transported to a hospital and also drove his trailer back to Groveland. A fast ball? While learning about this fiasco, we were also informed that there had been a rockslide by Crane Flat and Big Oak Flat Road into the Valley was closed. We headed up to find out how long it would take for the road to open. Just before ten o' clock, a ranger came by the parking lot and told everybody that it would take 3 to 6 more hours to clear the rockfall! We saw Raza and Steve leave to take the 140 entrance, just under a hundred miles away. The only reason we didn't leave immediately was because we were still cleaning up after making breakfast. Lo and behold, ten minutes later, another ranger came by and told us the rockslide had been cleared. What the f@#$??? We drove into the Valley with no traffic at all and didn't see any signs of a rockfall. Definitely a change up.

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a recreation of the rockfall, as we couldn't find the real thing

The forecast for the 50's was optimistic as it stayed in the 40's with a light sprinkle for most of the day. The cold conditions wasn't helping my elbows nor Slim's wrists. Waverly Wafer (5.10c) wasn't nearly as bad as its reputation but I flailed on Butterballs (5.11c) and Butterfingers (5.11a) while Slim styled them (except for that one slip on Butterballs with his foot on that HUGE knob). I would venture to say that Butterfingers has an 11d face crux if you can't reach right to the handjam when the diagonal crack ends. After a couple of more laps on Butterballs, we went down to finish on Catchy (5.10d). The timing was perfect since the skies opened up after that and we made it home at a reasonable hour.

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It's cold

Pedro's not gonna admit it here, but he knows who his daddy was this weekend. jh