Cragging is an odd subset of the sport of climbing. It is strange to think about how many happy memories I have of hauling a heavy pack full of bits of metal and gallon jugs of water up bad trails to precipitous spots. My first date with Jen was a cragging trip to the Washington desert in January and many of my best friendships have been cemented with the rocks of Index, Joshua Tree and Squamish.
Yet cragging is not something we have done a ton of in Montana. We've wrestled boulders, struggled up mountains but haven't broken out the rope and rack as much as we might. To start to rectify this we spent Saturday and Sunday climbing the granite dome of Lolo pass.
I've enjoyed covering distance in the mountains and poking around the woods finding numerous excellent boulders but part of me has missed the intimacy cragging gives you for a single bit of landscape. A rope stretching pitch is a unique thing ... a massive amount of distance travelled with no change in location.