Yo Semite!

Yosemite is rightly the mecca of North American climbing. The amount of climbable granite here is almost too much. In a week's time we've done over 40 pitches--which might exhaust possibilities elsewhere, but is shy of even a dent here.
Our first day of climbing didn't disappoint. Each pitch offered either prime hand and finger cracks, or classic hairy friction moves. Day two was one of our more ambitious outings. At the cliff before 7, we started up 1400 feet of granite cracks and ledges to the top of the Royal Arches formation. We simul-climbed the whole of it, with a 40-foot length of rope and a few cams and nuts for safety. The 14 rappels to regain the ground took nearly as long as the ascent. On day three we logged another handful of moderates, a thin 5.9, and capped the day with an impossibly cold dip in the Merced.
A hot shower in Curry Village, The Mormon Experience, scenery to boot, and enough beautiful climbing co-eds for me to mourn my lack of gusto have rounded out the sublime first days.

Below: Paxton at the base of Harry Daley.
Below: We twain--looking ragged after a 16 pitch push.
Below: Post Royal Arches glamor shot.
Below: Matt re-racking after Royal Arches, and showing every bit of the 1400 feet in his worn ensemble.
Below: Sir Matt at our first good overlook of the valley. Awful purty.
Below: He is risen! Matt emerging with flare from the Merced.
Below: Paxton smiling to keep from crying at the cold.
Below: Paxton recharging at a much needed spring.
Below: Matt with Yosemite Falls forming a backdrop.
Below: Primal and vegan? Matt with his mitts on evolution in action. [Note from M.S.: This'n's fer you, Katy Savage]
Below: Paxton's own Yosemite Falls shot. We weren't but 50 yards from the base of the famous deluge.
Below: Paxton sportin' baggies and moving quickly on a simul-climb of Regular Route.
Below: Matt's realization of the blueness of Paxton's eyes and the superioty of the Aryan race.
Below: Paxton placing a nut on Harry Daley.