Melissa i
Strong

Since I first started climbing in 2000, I fell in love with bouldering in Rocky Mountain National Park.  I spent every extra minute in the park climbing in Chaos Canyon.  Even when I was forced to take minor hiatuses due to injuries or the weather creating a winter wonderland, I still went to the park.  A hurt shoulder meant getting into the park for a 20-mile hike was in order.  Before I started spending winter months in Hueco, I snowshoed to more destinations than I have ever hiked to in the summer.  Construction did not stop me in 2003.  I raced up there to catch shuttles that ushered me through.  This year, I tried to keep a stiff upper lip and not be daunted by the second construction phase on Bear Lake Road, but I failed.  It was the least time I have spent up there since I learned about the boulders around Lake Haiyaha.  I made it up there a handful of times this summer, from upper to the Hallett Boulder and lower, but I only made a few visits to each area—only to the Hallett Boulder once.  It is weird for me for sure. But for some reason, the hassle was more than I desired to handle.
 
To keep our spirits up, we decided to find the next amazing bouldering field this summer. We started by getting back to Pear Lake. One of my first climbing buddies, Paul Otis, introduced us to these boulders with a day drip. Six miles in with pads and developing boulders to hike back out, the six miles with the cumbersome loads made an exhausting, long day. For our next trip, we decided to get backcountry permits, head into camp, and develop.  
"Horses, let's hire horses to pack our pads and camping equipment in," Paul came up with the brilliant idea. "Juli and I will go in early and meet the team to unload at the site on August 7th."  "Sweet, this is not going to be as bad as I thought," I shared, relieved at the thought of hiking twelve miles with multiple crash pads and food, tents, sleeping bags, clothes, stoves, and bear-proof containers. "What time will they will meet us the morning of the 10th to get all of our shit out?" I asked the group, "I have to work that night and close the restaurant." Adam and Wickwire responded, "No, we can manage to get the stuff out, and we will save money." I questioned this and adamantly disagreed, but I was overruled.  

Our buddy Andy Klier, in town for the summer from Texas, joined the expedition. The hike to Pear Lake was pleasant and much easier this time without pads. We met Paul and Julie, set up camp, and went to climb. Soon, we realized one issue: the mosquitoes. Whoa, I have a low bug tolerance and was not expecting to be in a fog of hungry bloodsuckers at 10,000+ feet even before the sun dipped behind the mountains. Oh well... 
Hoodies on, we bundled up for the warm days of climbing to protect ourselves from the swarms. Despite the bug battle, we had tons of fun and added new quality lines. The strong group of guys snagged most of the hard FAs, but Julie, Andy, and I got a few warm-up/moderate lines. Mike Wickwire got the FA of Zabalon Pink and a few other lines, and Adam put up Thizz Dance. 

Due to working schedules, we could not stay longer, and August 10th came quickly. I woke up early and filtered water for the group, rousing the camp as early as I thought was acceptable: "I hate to rush us guys, but I have to be home to clean up and be at work by 3 p.m."  As we loaded the camping gear in the crash pads, the unwieldy foam blocks that were already not designed for mega weight and long hikes became unmanageable. "How am I going to be able to make it out?" I asked myself. I attempted to be positive as I set out, but as Mike and Adam caught up to me, laughing at the sight--I tried to pick up a stick to push back the second crash pad that was balanced on top of the pad that was on my back. The top pad slid forward over my head. They were laughing we me, not at me but at the time, my panic and pain were unleased with my response, "This is not fucking funny, and if I hear another word, I will never fucking speak to you again," or something like that flew out of my mouth. "It is funny, though," they continued, undaunted by my bitterness, "look at what we are carrying." It was funny in that unfunny sick we got to get through this way, but "No one listened to me about horses on the way out," I responded as they passed me. "And I am the idiot who has to work tonight. I will be paying double in the money we saved on horses in massages to try to fix what I am doing here." At this point, I was talking to the trees. Somewhere by Finch Lake, Adam took my extra pad, and I dried my tears of frustration. 

"Where are we going to go and get burgers?" Mike said during the car ride home. "No, no one says one word about where you are going for burgers until I am gone for work," I announced.