The rock feels rough against the backs of may hands, but the jams are so good I don’t care. I keep stuffing my hands into the crack, bound for the sky above. The landscape over my shoulder would make a cynic weep, with its red oaks and blazing gold aspens framed by maroon colored rock and deep azure sky. The afternoon light plays across the hillsides in gentle arcs, and every cell in my body wishes this moment could be frozen for me to remember over and over in the coming winter months ahead. I continue to climb, the pitch is long but the movement feels natural, each jam bringing me closer to the bittersweet end. I reach the anchor after 35 meters and look out on the vista that surrounds me. A true work of art, it’s almost enough to evoke tears. I take a deep breath, savoring the fall air…and then lower to take another lap up this masterpiece of vertical stone.