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To some people, Friday the 13th is a harbinger of misfortune. By some people, I mean Syam, George, and myself. By misfortune, I mean missing out on good beer.
George organized a weekend trip to Atlanta, including spending the ominous Friday climbing in Sunset Park near Chattanooga, Tennessee. We drove down Thursday evening, intending to arrive in Atlanta early enough to stop in on George's friend Dennis at 5 Seasons Brewing. Needless to say Friday the 13th started its influence and early delays and one or two traffic experiences kept us away from Atlanta too long for any frothy malt reward.
Early Friday we drove an hour north to Sunset Park in Chattanooga, Tennessee. During the drive we flipped through George's Dixie Cragger's guidebook and picked a few routes, notably the highly recommended blonde ambition (5.7). Syam selected the more ambitious windwalker (5.9), which was along the way and near a series of other mid-level climbs.
After some discussion on how to order things, Syam suggested I lead it since he did the final lead during our last trip to Shortoff. I was a little wary of 5.9, but the guidebook said "do not overprotect" implying ample opportunities to place gear, so it should be relatively safe. I could write a lot about a few scary parts to this climb. I took my first outdoor lead fall, and my second, and my third. Protection was adequate, but I certainly wasn't feeling the "do not overprotect" warning. One short fall onto a tricam shattered the rock around it, jarring me before finishing the longer fall down to the next piece. That solid nut caught me, but no amount of nut tool lovin' could work it loose afterwards.
George followed to the roof, then Syam cleaned the route. After returning to the ground I re-read the guidebook and realized I missed a long right traverse, explaining the protection discrepancy. Next Syam led afternoon delight (5.7), an interesting route segmented into a blocky face climb, then a crack, and finally a wide chimney at the top. George followed, cleaned gear, and caught a falling rope end the hard way.
We hiked out and drove back to Atlanta. On the way George called the brew pup and found out we'd be too late to partake of their dinner menu, so we postponed beer until Saturday. Misfortune strikes again. It was still Friday the 13th; we celebrated properly by meeting up with some of George's friends at a techno/trance fetish club.
On Saturday we drank beer.
Don't ask me about Sunday.
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