Saturday 9^th

The night before began a frenzy of slavic food and slivovitz and finished a feverish dance party. I was exhausted, footsore and rendered insensible. But I had not over-indulged in the excess. Therefore, I was mostly coherent at 9.25am when John Peterson swung by to pick me up for a day of climbing.

We stopped at the AKW Hall carpark in town to pick up a trio of new faces. Anthony Anagnostou was first to saunter in. Currently president of the Yale Climbing Club (formerly the YMC, but Anthony is a realist) he presented with an open and friendly manner. Shortly we were joined by Mike and Alexia, both former inmates of North Carolina recently absconded to Connecticut. John's subaru groaned under the weight of collected gear and human cargo as it wheezed towards our destination. Today's gentle epic would take place in the woods north of Waterbury, at a place called Whitestone.

Because it's February some note of the weather should be recorded. Last weekend, I was with Gio and Wolfgang at Sleeping Giant, it had been windy and bitterly cold. Typical for the month. But today was unusually warm, as a bubble of high pressure stilled the winds and cleared the sky of cloud. It was magnificent under the sun.

The hike from the pullout was an undemanding affair, neither terribly short nor overly long. Punctuated by a suspension bridge (composed no doubt through some engineering genius) over an incongruously icy stream the stroll made for a pleasant morning and we arrived under the crags at about 10.45am.

JP had been here once before, but hadn't climbed anything at the time. So thinking it an infrequently visited place I asked if Dave Fasulo includes it in his soon to be published guide - he does. The rock gazed imperturbably south and was already warming to the touch. John racked up to lead something he had been told was 5.8 or thereabouts. I put him on belay and Anthony escorted Mike and Alexia around to top-rope the easier looking slabs on the west face.

John's lead was thoughtful and edged with mild bafflement. His occasional uncertainty reminded me of his mood on Frenchman's Cap back in December. Thus I adjusted my stance and prepared for the worst. But John found good rests on the first two-thirds of the route, and while the last section was a little overhung he had the necessary answers in hand. Triumphantly he pulled over the last scrubby blocks and howled in delight. I hereby name this route Going to the John (5.8), at least until the Fasulo guide corrects me in April. I followed up and agreed that the pro was ok, but not great - John had put faith in a crappy nut and a really crappy camalot, and that the climb was very probably 5.8. Would I lead it? Maybe, but not today.

John and I wandered over to see Anthony belaying from the top of the western slabs. He was sitting with his legs dangling over the side and exchanging pleasantries with the sun. Down below Alexia appeared to be cursing the stone into submission. The mood was high. I had brought my camera along and snapped a couple of shots at Anthony looking relaxed on the edge. Consequently I was left behind by John who, knowing the walk-down, had hared off without me. However, after some getting lost I eventually got down.

Once again I played at Lord Snowdon and snapped happily away at Alexia and then Mike as they climbed in turn. John found a floundering bat on the path. The poor little bastard must have been sick or injured in some way and desperately dragged and flapped itself into the undergrowth and away from the big pink threatening things. I managed to get one photo of it though.

John then suggested I should try and lead a line just to the left of the route that Mike was currently top-roping. It looked easy and so I immediately agreed to give it a shot. Alexia took the camera for a while and fired off some nice pictures of my behind as it moved with glacial rapidity up the slab. It was a fun climb, very easy and relaxed. Warm enough to climb in T-shirt and jeans I managed to get up there in reasonable form. For now I name it Something (5.5) because it's probably already got a name in the Fasulo guide. Mike followed up and then Alexia. Alexia found the top of the crag so agreeable that she sat and basked in the sun up there for quite a while.

At this time I was being called to duty. John was sending Anthony up Going to the John on lead. It would be Anthony's third ever trad lead and my job was to capture elements of it on film. So I rapped down to a point above and at one side, wrapped the ropes around my leg to anchor myself in place, and snapped some nice images of Anthony in action. He did fine work too.

While Anthony finished up a gentleman named Jeff Sargeant walked down the trail. A member of the RMF board in good standing he proved himself an affable chap indeed. With him was his equally friendly dog Sidney. From my hanging situation I took a few shots of Mike following up for Anthony before wearing of the novelty and completed my descent.

Jeff had set up a top-rope to the left and I belayed for him as he climbed it. He claimed it to be 5.7 and I thus name it Jeff's Little Joke (5.7+). Alexia went next and eventually, after a great effort, put it all together and reached the top. Mike too did this line, finding alternatives to suit himself, and enjoyed it very much. Off in the distance John was leading something on the western slabs, Locked in the John (5.6).

Presently, David Ross and James Rush showed up. They had been otherwise engaged that morning and promised to join us by the afternoon. Time was flying! It must have been close to 2pm. David promptly jumped on Jeff's Little Joke and I took James around to the slabs where we would top-rope variations of Locked in the John. I spent a lot of time taking pictures after that, getting some respectably presentable images of James and David, as well as Anthony doing trad lead #4, The Ant (5.5).

The last climb I was involved in was led by James. David belayed, I photographed and James aquitted himself admirably. Home James (5.5) was finished when I followed it after David. We tidied up and then, with the rest, hiked back to the cars. It had been one awesome day.

That evening Leila and I joined with John at Woolsey Hall to hear Shostakovich's "Concerto for Violin and Orchestra" and Mahler's "Resurrection". James and David were really on song that night. Bloody fantastic.