About 6, I can hear busy busy noises from the kitchen. Roberta is making us breakfast. I get up to assist. This assistance takes the form of drinking coffee. She makes pancakes. She supervises Joe making sausage. We have fresh blackberries and rasberries. They make Spring an egg in leiu of sausage. Everyone has a glass of orange juice.
It's 7:30 and we're ready to go. Only, it's raining at Smith and it's 35 degrees. What to do? We lounge on the leather sofas and toss around ideas. Roberta fetches us magazines. I watch guys playing golf out of the front window. We finally decide to meet Iona and her crew at the Deschutes Brewery for lunch.
"Call us before you come home so we can have dinner ready."- Roberta.
"Count on it!"- Us
Iona's crew is hardcore. We are going climbing.
Everyone gets in at least a few pitches even though the conditions are well below optimal. I make myself do it to work up an appetite. Everyone else geniunely seems to enjoy themselves. Most even lead pitches. Including Mike, who insists not only that Spring belay him, but that she do it with a gri gri. He thinks we find this annoying. Maybe some do but, again, I completely understand. Moments later, I offer to clean the pitch so we can leave, borrow Shelly's personal anchor intstead of spending an extra two minutes getting mine, then get to the top and chicken out. I have to be lowered and reclimb 5 gallon buckets for the umpteeth time with my own setup. Lame.
We rush back to Bend where Joe and Roberta have prepared ribs!... and some other stuff. Each thing requiring a separate plate. It's so complicated, even Shelly gets confused. I realized I should have waited to take a shower until after dinner as I am now covered in BBQ sauce.
Joe has rented "Casino Royal" for us and is excited to put it on. So he does and immediately goes to bed?! I last maybe 15 minutes (three pitches have never been so exhausting), everyone else lasts another 20, maybe.
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