They sell fireworks up here!

A moment of silence please... The end of a saga has occured. A great rift, a schism if you will, has crushed down upon my happy little existence of frequent SLO bouldering trips for blissful climbing frolics. Although I had previously held the optimistic hope of being reunited with my one true love of a state I was sent, instead, to Montana. Don't get me wrong, the state beckons with badass potential. Glacier National Park has a scenic quality that is utterly indescribable; Missoula promises to become one of my top five favorite towns; and the Mountains here are virtually untouched. Not to mention the state is pretty much void of pesky people. So what could be so bad? Well the location of my base camp is slightly out of place. Great Falls MT seems to suffer from an incurable disease of something I like to call "Flatnessitis." An ailment marked with symptoms of absent change in topographical contour, aka, no mountains. And the nearest rock formations, about 45 minutes away, are too chossy to climb. (insert quintessential sniffle here) . Colorado never looked so good... no matter. Mike Beeson and I have already drafted plans to construct a masterpiece fortress of sanity. A type of sanctuary against the evil forces of rednecks and methies. In fact, I close on a house in the end of July and the castle happens to have a huge mother bleepin garage that is about to become a huge mother bleepin climbing gym. So, as long as I can maintain my strength and resolve, and I don't mind traveling an hour plus to go climb all should be well (or at least bearable). Over and out.