Honey, can you pass me a shit bag? - Ousley Creative

PITCH 23angel with one of thosestuffed pigs westashed on thesummit (nor would Iendure any avoidabletoil that day). We hiked the expensive stuffdown to the raps then stumbled our way pastManure Pile Buttress, having planned to retrievethe remaining payload via Tamarack Campgroundwhen we were damn ready.We completed the 18-mile round trip fromTamarack in an unhurried day. After ourextended vertical experience, the act of doingsomething—anything—without a harness on,beyond the grip of drop-that-and-it’s-gonethinking, was a vacation indeed. Never mind thegiant haul bag on my back; the abrasions itlovingly administers to my lower back, thecarnage it threatens on my meniscal cartilage,the sheer mass and weight that would just assoon expedite my return to our good earth.Back at the truck, there was suddenly andoddly nothing left for us to do. Our ascent wascomplete. Seventeen days on the wall, on a routethat has been climbed in nineteen-plus hours. I’dbe surprised to know the Muir Wall has beenclimbed in a greater length of time from theground up than we took. For all our hacking andslacking, I have to believe we set some kind ofrecord up there—personal bests (or worsts) aside.Wall Drug againBack in Orange County, a low flying FedEx jetcoursed through the air space perpendicular toour path on the southbound I-5. Somethingabout that jet triggered an overwhelming senseof disbelief in me. It seemed that every mechanicalPITCH 22