First, there was rock. Monkeys were warm and happy - sending the gnar, pulling down on sweet crimps, birdwatching, adding bolts to popular routes for convenience, jamming steep cracks and falling off from slippery boulders in Camp 4, wondering "how the f*#k is this a v1, where is the chisel?? A hold must have fallen off, this setter blows!"









And God said, “Let there be snow,” and there was snow and ice. God saw that the ice was good, and he separated the light from the darkness. But for some reason when Brian and I went to climb the alright ice (as far as ice in Yosemite can be) we did not see the day or night, all we saw all day was something in between. Thick clouds and little visibility. We had to bust trail to get up to the base and the fresh dusting was covering some of the ice, but it was good fun.
















When monkeys got done climbering, they decided to walk around and look at the place called Yosemite Valley looking all purdy and sh#t. And took photos of their friend monkeys climbering the Widows Tears a few days later.