The drive to Estes Park was slow and uneventful. This time I was joined by my friends so that I at last could share my discoveries. They were bursting at the seams with excitement to finally glimpse this dream area. Almost as soon as we arrived at the trailhead to begin the grueling hike, the rain started to fall. Not just drizzle, but full blown cold rain, pounding the windshield with ferocious force. We waited and waited in the truck for the rain to abate. Hours had passed before the torrent had slowed enough to consider beginning the hike. Our only concerns now were the boulders being wet and the horrible risk of lightning. Fooling ourselves with irrational optimism we set off. Rounding a familiar bend in the trail we were awarded with a view that made our hearts sink. Above Hallet Peak’s triangular summit, ominous thunderheads were shouting at us to turn back. Half running, half walking we finally arrived at the foot of the boulder-field.
Warm-ups were sent on wet rock until at last the mountain relented and the clouds lifted. Fortunately the rock seemed to dry very quickly and we began to experience the texture of the rock for the first time on our fingertips. It was just what we desired, positive friction climbing but not so abrasive as to shred our hands. Instantly we were in love. The next obvious step was to find our problem of choice and let battle commence! Steadily we made our way upwards weaving in and out through the maze of talus. After scrambling down through a cleft in the rock we arrived at massive bloc, 25 feet tall, it’s face slashed with a diagonal weakness; the ‘Centaur’. Under-clings and pinches, crimps and slots, wicked movement and a hard to read sequence, it was just what we wanted. The next few hours were spent flailing as we tried to adapt to the exacting nature of the rock. The subtle body positions interspersed with dynamic motion threw us on our backs again and again.
