Our new baby.

Space Shuttle.

I considered it a possible scenario that the kids would go straight to school right on Friday after returning from Europe. They both vehemently refused. Not because they would be tired or anything like that, they're always full of energy — but because I had promised them that RIGHT after returning we would go buy a new hamster. I don't know why I expected any different — perhaps I thought they would forget the hamster in the space of two months, or that they would find other hobbies, or something like that. It just did not happen.

It could not be helped and on September 14, Brownie moved into our place. We wanted a long-haired female, got short-haired boy, but that's life — you plan something and then it pans out differently. Brownie was also extremely tiny, lacking much of the dignity of the furry ball that Pattie had grown into. I don't know what he had to suffer in his so far short life, but when I tried to put some food in his bowl for the first time, he got so horribly scared of my hand that he threw a backward somersault. Gradually he had been losing his qualms and becomes less scaredy, and I had noticed that in two weeks since his arrival he had at least doubled in size, and perhaps he's doing well with us.

I had to catch up with much paperwork at school that we had skipped with the start of the school year. While we went to Europe, after-school activities had started, and we had to pick quickly. Kids, to my surprise, summarily avoided soccer that they had liked previous year. For Tom I eventually found Engineering Fundamentals with Lego and it seems that it was a successful idea. Even if you sat Tom down with just a box of Lego, he would not get bored. Lego with motors, controllers, clutches and who knows what else, and well-thoughts examples are wonderful, and Tom enjoys it a lot.

During my climbing weekend, kids and Hippo hiked on Fremont Peak.

A view from Fremont Peak.

On the next week's Friday I was currently shopping, when Sid called me that a Space Shuttle was supposed to fly overhead. I reckoned that I'd finish my purchases, drive home, and see what happens, but on my way home he called again that it was already flying over his workplace and that I should stop the car and take a look. I had about ten seconds to park, run around, grab a camera from the trunk (thanks to not having emptied our car after a weekend's trip, it was still there), and take a snapshot of the Jumbo Jet with Endeavour. The picture is far from perfect, but in such a time crunch and from afar (after all, we were not directly in the path), it's the best I could do with it.

I was less successful in photographing during our wood-gathering weekend at Kirkwood. Somehow I could not overcome our resident German to let me take the camera along. It was, after all, rather challenging. We had reached the "cottage" at the moment when Michal and Pavel were unloading wood that they had brought from the Valley. Sid and I quickly ran for the office in a naive hope that they would issue our season passes which we had paid for in April, as this would save us from having to endure multi-hour long lines at the onset of winter. Alas, Kirkwood had been purchased by Vail and the whole system was changing; no one was able to issue the passes. They promised to mail them, and it was anybody's guess what would happen. I was afraid that with the season's start, a horrible confusion would ensue, and I would love to be spared that.

Impatient Michal meanwhile left with Kiti and Pavel to the forest, we followed them with about five minutes delay. Guys grabbed chainsaws, the rest of us took remaining tools and we got to work. We had loaded Michal's car first, for they wanted to depart back home on the same evening, and thus we had sent them back to Kirkwood to unload. Right after a first bend, forest rangers halted them and demanded a permit (which they had). Then the rangers move on to us — apparently on behest of somebody camping in the surrounding National Forest. The complaint was that we were falling live trees (which we weren't). I understood that the chainsaw noise was probably bothersome, but that was one of the risks of camping outside any regular sites. Besides, the whole location was immersed in traffic noise from a close-by state highway, and we had taken care to stay as far from tents as possible. The rangers agreed with us about how stupid it would be to cut fresh wood for burning, checked our permits, and left.

A snake.

A lizard.

One by one, now only as four adults and two children, we had loaded our bus and Kovář's wagon, heading back to the "cottage". The wood storage looked satisfactory, and we declared it the end of the shift. I had insisted on a shower, which was probably a tactical mistake — by seven o'clock we found no free table at Kirkwood Inn, the only restaurant in the vicinity. After about twenty minutes waiting, a waitress told us that a table may open up no sooner than in half an hour. Thus I would dare to antagonize the famousest Czech, Jára Cimrman — sometimes coming to the pub with clean feet DOES NOT PAY.

A war council had decreed that instead of waiting for an uncertain outcome, we could spend the half an hour going to South Lake Tahoe, which offers a choice of many restaurants. A quick drive ensued, ending in a discovery that a proved Thai place required waiting — for a change — half an hour. Fortunately we had spotted another Thai restaurant (Nakorn) on the way there, only one block away. It was untested, but then only half full, and we found refuge there. I don't know if they were trying to impress new customers or the waitress was feeling sorry for our children half falling asleep, but the service was quick, helpful and the food was excellent.

Thanks to crossing a considerable part of Sierra Nevada for dinner, we had finally arrived back to the "cottage" so late that we just unrolled our sleeping bags and fell in. In the morning we proceeded at our traditional alpine pace — i.e. at length and thoroughly eating breakfast, talking, and relaxing. The only difference was the absence of snow behind the windows (although, honestly, it had often been gone even during winter). Another workday in the woods awaited us, but with the knowledge that the wood storage was almost full and we would not have to take it to any extremes. I'm sure that the guys — especially Pavel — had labored really hard, but this had been a very relaxing weekend for me. We spent it outdoors, in a pleasant company, we had plenty of things to do, and the results of our work were tangible.

A grasshopper.

Wall of the World — 1st pitch. Photo Pavel.

The rest of this journal is about climbing, hence non-climbers are allowed to skip it:

Last year Pavel and I had found Wall of the Worlds on Calaveras Dome only when we were leaving; this year we decided to make it our goal to finally climb this route. We arrived under the Dome on Friday after midnight (actually Saturday, then), for we had wanted to check out an alternative access road as Elis Road has still got a section damaged by a flash flood from previous year. The alternative had proved itself to be a mistake, as it is longer and less comfortable. In the morning we had breakfast and packed carefully; to our surprise we were alone under the Wall of the Worlds. The Calaveras Dome itself does not seem to attract crowds in general, but Wall of the Worlds is supposed to be the most beautiful 5.10 in California.

I think that this claim is justified; we really had great fun. First two pitches could be connected in one as it is a crack. The third gave me hard time, a traverse under an overhang spat me out embarrassingly; I would certainly not like to lead that section. The fourth pitch is an easy, beautiful crack, the fifth one a more difficult corner. Pitch number six is an easy, short, broken up corner, seven a great fifty yards in a corner — you can climb it in a crack or by stemming. The pitches eight and nine were long flat walls, allegedly 5.9. Well, I had not climbed 5.9 this hard for a long time. We rappelled down from the ninth pitch; the route continues in theory, but the rest is a walking terrain (class IV, 5.5) — and on top of that I admit that I was somewhat finished with my endurance after five or six hours of climbing.

Pavel lodges a cam at the beginning of the overhang in the third pitch.

If you know what you're doing, you don't need hands much.

Besides, the route is beautiful all by itself, and we got perfect weather — warm, but with the exception of the last pitch we climbed in shade, comfortably, in a light breeze, without abrupt changes. Really totally relaxing. Getting down went smoothly, all anchors are well secured, and in five rounds we got all the way to the foot. Then we found a pool in the creek with a sandy beach, and since the day was warm, it was great to jump in the icy water and perform a basic cleaning. Even beer lasted cold till the evening — an ideal outing.

My night was somewhat less pleasant. First I got cramps in my legs, and then I woke up so drenched in sweat that I was sliding up and down inside my sleeping bag. I had to climb out and issue myself a blanket from the car; I must have overdone it with the down bag. But later I found myself using the bag as my second blanket, and breakfast found me rattling my teeth despite the down jacket and woolly hat I had put on. What was our surprise when driving mere few hundred yards to the Calaveras Dome lot meant increase in outdoor temperature to the level of a mild summer morning. I guess it's caused by the dark Hammer Dome, which stays in sunshine all day and then heats up the whole night like an oven. Whatever it was, I was grateful for the improvement; I had realized that climbing in the chill would be rather painful — I had not brought many warm clothes.

We had agreed on the previous evening that we would try to find Green Sponge. Alas, the same story of getting lost in the rocks repeated itself — this time, we had found something that seemed like the start of the Sponge. Pavel tried to climb it and find out if it matched topo description higher, but he had to return back, defeated. By then I began to doubt my fitness — my muscles were aching and I felt overall tired. The option to continue farther along the wall and either find the Green Sponge or something else, appealed better to me (especially the possibility of not finding the Green Sponge at all).

Pitches six and seven.

A corner in seventh pitch. Photo Pavel

Still, Pavel had eventually found the start of Green Sponge — partially thanks to the fact that two other climbers were already there, and could confirm the correct address. We pondered whether to wait for them to climb away, or to continue looking for something else; eventually we chose to stay because of time we had left (before we could stumble upon something reasonable etc.). The guys had run up rather quickly, and they had a seventy meter rope and could connect the first and second pitch, not becoming an obstacle on the first anchor. We needed it, as we had only two sixty-meter ropes along with us.

The beginning of the Green Sponge can be reached either via three-pitch approach (which was what we were trying), or one can walk around on some ledges. The proper route then has seven pitches — i.e. it pretty much looked like a ten-pitch climb, and I did not feel up to it at all. Further I was worried that you can rappel from the first anchor, the fourth one, and from the top. Pavel was fighting horribly around the first quick-draw already, which was clipped to a bolt that I would hesitate to hang my overcoat on, much less jump into with my full weight. He had overcome the crux using the draw, clipped another one, and then tried to climb it again top-rope style, but not very successfully. We would find later at home that this spot is supposed to be 5.11d, which seemed to match our (in)ability to master it. The rest of the pitch was OK, and so was the next one, some nice wall climbing. The third pitch looked simple, but in reality was horribly contaminated; I fought vegetation, mud, and insects in the broken-up corner and in the cracks, which I hate. The slick corner is supposed to be 5.8, but I had to fight there like a lioness — again, a climbing style I don't like much (especially with a pack on my back and cams on my harness — the blue spots on my flanks were really impressive — and most of all, I'm not good at it.

Ninth pitch in the wall. Photo Pavel

Direct to Green Sponge.

At the start of Green Sponge, we found an ugly surprise — another pair of guys had crept in across the ledges (the fast ones who were ahead of us on the approach went along the ledges to climb something else), and they seemed very slow. I was totally stiff and did not want to commit to the next four pitches, and I talked Pavel into those three pitches of the approach being enough for the day. He was probably not very happy, but I could not continue much longer. Perhaps I'm getting older, or it's caused by not having gotten out to climb outdoor things much this year. There are moves that cannot be practiced in the gym, and you miss it later.

A jump in the creek remained — either it got warmer or my body already knew the bath would be pleasant; this time I immersed almost immediately. Amazing. We finished packing, had an early dinner at Giant Burger, and I got home so soon that I still found the kids out of beds. We can only hope to finish the Green Sponge next year.