It is with humble indignity that I admit I'm not much of a climber. So, for Easter weekend I set my sights on thrashing my way up something, anything at the old limestone quarry.

I've never been there, so I figured it was time. Between the house, the job, the broken truck, and the kids I haven't slept in a couple months, or so it seems, and took saturday morning off, just for me. I headed out with climbing gear, a fishing pole, and a gold pan. Lofty goals for a late start and an early return requirement.

It was a beautiful, sunny morning. Temp was just right for the mile hike up the old railroad bed that leads from the confluence to the quarry. Alas, I left the fishing pole and the gold pan behind; but brought rope, harness, silent partner, and a full rack (doh!), sans backpack.

The hike in wasn't bad. I'd heard at the parking lot that there were two large groups of climbers, so I fully expected that there would be nothing left to climb. I have multiple copies of the guide printed off that other climbing site, and forgot every damn one of them. So, I should have known better than to bring anything other than a dozen draws. Apparently, as questioned by a couple joggers, I must have been carrying all that gear for a purpose?
In any case, there were roughly 30 people or so all gang-roping the (I'm guessing?) easy routes near the entry, which looked pretty good to me. So I wandered on back to a shaded alcove around the corner and found a suitably large rock to anchor to, and proceeded to french-free my way up the route.
At this point, it's a good thing I can still climb a ladder to paint the ceiling, 'cause my footwork's gone to sh#t. I'm also overcrimping every hold I can manage to get my fingers on and can't manage to "see" more than about 10% of the available holds that are there. Thank god for chalk, (referring to the gratuitous tic marks left by those who preceeded me) or I couldn't have even cheated my way up with a stick-clip and a prusik!
Anyway, I made it to the chains, rapped off, and pulled rope for the next party who wanted to lead it. Their 10 minutes to do what took me 45 minutes definitely put the crimp in my ego. So I schlepped the rack on over to the sunny side, where an unassuming 5.6ish looking route made a fool of me for not figuring out how to pull the moves to the 1st bolt, since it required some opening moves past a death-block looking hunk just above head height that I was sure would spit me out and land on my chest for spite if I so much as glanced at it sideways on my way past. Oh, and there was no ground anchor for the SP, so I was aiming to simply clip that 1st bolt with the end of the rope and run it from there.
Lucky for me, some guy wandered by waiting for his partner and offered to lead. So I gladly munged my way to the first belay on top rope. Yay me! The route continued for at least another pitch; but I declined as I realized the wife would soon be setting a match to all my climbing gear if I didn't hustle home real quick.
Note to self: Bring a backpack next time. Jogging in a harness, carrying a rope that's butterflied and backpack style, with a full rack on a single runner over your shoulder sucks. Bring lunch. Bring a route guide. Leave the stupid rack at home. Bring the wife and kids and lunch for them and make a day out of it. It's really a nice location, so long as you don't mind the outdoor-gym setting.