If You Could See What I See...

Whenever I begin these little climbing posts, I feel tempted to recycle the bromidic phrase, If You Could See What I See.  With this expression--I think to myself--the reader will have undergone some prescribed Gestalt Shift which lends itself to my, not-so-unique-after-all, obsession.  The duck will become the rabbit, and the reader ought to now share my enthusiasm for clawing at these big pebbles.  Admittedly, it's a token best reserved for rousing speeches to a sleeping nation or to con a friend into some self-serving machination.

Lynn Woods: The Discovery

When you bring up Lynn Woods to local climbers, you receive a varied reaction.  It's a choss pile to some.  A land scattered with lowballs of piercing granite.  They look to their hands dejectedly and impel the conversation towards the wonders of Lincoln Woods and Pawtuckaway. Others get a wistful glaze over their eyes.  They zone out for a moment, then rouse telling fantastical tales of gourd-like blocs, rained in the forest like a skittle commercial of yore.

Lynn woods was, in my experience, a farrago of mystery, potential, and confusion.

Livin' Local: Lynn Woods & Castle Rock

Despite ambivalent New England weather and Ben's cookies, we got to make it outdoors a couple times this weekend.  Bennie's in town and he brought the LEGENDARY psyche (albeit with a certain acridness).  We got beaten up by the Gulu Gulu on Friday, so Saturday started slow.  Woke up dehydrated from buff chick pizza, with the previous night's jazz cover of SpottieOttieDopalicious ringing in my ears.