Kraft Dinners

Vegas is a placed defined by extremes. I have chosen to deliberately focus entirely on one side of the spectrum. Kraft, Red Springs, Calico Basin, Black Velvet Canyon. I spend my time here with chalky hands and skin that is starting to split. At the end of the day my clothes have ghost trails of red sands.

Logistics are the first and last thing I think about each day. How much water. What food will sustain me for the next 8-9 hours. What can be carried, and how much weight will it add is considered in detail. A narrowing of concerns can be a relief.

I am free from cell phone service. Beta is traded like folklore. Jokes repeat and get funnier with repetition. Stories and reflections eternal. Time is filled with list making - accounting for top bands, boulders, movies - passing time before the next burn.

In the last week I have ticked a climb that I’ve carried with me a for a year. A little fear arrived, as expected, but so did my breathing and my confidence in my self. Ticked another that seemed so out of reach every other time I’ve come down here.

It has been over two and half weeks since life on the road started - the longest I’ve been away from home in years. The Airbnb looks exactly like what you’d expect a Vegas Airbnb to look: the apartment of a newly divorced dad, a far cry from home. Cold tile. Furniture that’s stiff and chosen quickly. Art with the emotional depth of a dorm room poster. Not a worry though. My life exists elsewhere right now.