Type: | Sport, 80 ft (24 m) |
FA: | Philippe Collet, 2005 |
Page Views: | 1,589 total · 10/month |
Shared By: | Top Rope Hero on Oct 27, 2011 |
Admins: | Jason Halladay, Luke Bertelsen |
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Use onX Backcountry to explore the terrain in 3D, view recent satellite imagery, and more. Now available in onX Backcountry Mobile apps! For more information see this post.
Description
Twenty million years ago our ancestral proto humans descended from the ancient trees of the African plains in order to better hunt for the increasingly scarce resources of these drying savannas. Thus began our great biological pilgrimage up the evolutionary ladder, a centuries upon centuries process that eventually gave rise to the frontal cortex and all our higher brain functions.
Today we higher brain functioning humans have snake-handling religions, midget pornography, and Sarah Palin. Evolution? Or signs of the apocalypse. You make the call.
Either way it's time to shed the habiliments of "progress" and get naked with our ancient, inner ape.
Zorba the fat. It IS just that. Fat with possibility and with a massive, arching tufa rib that just begs to be mauled with your chalky hands. Looks just like something out of "Aliens"; climbs like one, too.
Run up the rib (or use the wickedly steep pockets on the right) and flail over the bulge until you get a tenuous, airy stem. Did you knee bar in that hole? Good—this inert piece of sediment is no match for your shrewd cognitive skills.
Now head left into a depression for your mandatory de-pump. Then work back up 'n' right on steep pockets of glory. GLORY, I TELL YOU! Glory is YOURS APE (WO)MAN!
Once done, you can finish up, O enlightened being, with some "Desperate Housewives" reruns and a trip to Euro Disney.
Today we higher brain functioning humans have snake-handling religions, midget pornography, and Sarah Palin. Evolution? Or signs of the apocalypse. You make the call.
Either way it's time to shed the habiliments of "progress" and get naked with our ancient, inner ape.
Zorba the fat. It IS just that. Fat with possibility and with a massive, arching tufa rib that just begs to be mauled with your chalky hands. Looks just like something out of "Aliens"; climbs like one, too.
Run up the rib (or use the wickedly steep pockets on the right) and flail over the bulge until you get a tenuous, airy stem. Did you knee bar in that hole? Good—this inert piece of sediment is no match for your shrewd cognitive skills.
Now head left into a depression for your mandatory de-pump. Then work back up 'n' right on steep pockets of glory. GLORY, I TELL YOU! Glory is YOURS APE (WO)MAN!
Once done, you can finish up, O enlightened being, with some "Desperate Housewives" reruns and a trip to Euro Disney.
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