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For once in my life I did the right thing.  I was offered a nice sized paycheck to develop code fifty hours a week, fifty weeks a year.  I was so frustrated.  The stereotypical American's definition of success would be so easy to obtain if only I would sign the dotted line.  Take the money, marry a wife and have the perfect American family.  Blank out the morals and live a life of prosperity with lots of materialistic toys.

I could not write my name on that line.  I am so sick of living a life that is not focused at bringing happiness to others.  Under a week later I was on the road with very few plans except finding myself.  After saying bye to the many great friends in my hometown San Antonio, TX I left the city in route to Oklahoma.  I met up with an old high school friend who happened to also climb rocks at Wichita Mountain Wildlife Refuge.  Rolling hills and beautiful cracks in granite stones made this place a breath of fresh air from the city.  On the third night there was a small earth quake that hit the Wichita area which on some level set the tone for this trip.  I am glad we were not on a climb during this slight shaking or that day may have been allot more interesting. 

About a week later my partner left and I continued to Quartz Mountain.  I am going to take a slight side trek to the story for a second. I drive a Lincoln Town Car (yes, its a long story).  For those who do not know this is the car that you imagine your grandmother driving.  For starters it's really hard to convince people that you are serious climber when you pull up with this monstrosity.  Secondarily, a moderate dirt road instantly turns into an extreme 'offroading' experience which constantly added an extra twist to this four month experience.  Finally, all four power windows and cruise control do not work not to mention that the raccoons attempted to burrow through the right brake light leaving a massive hole in the plastic.  Regardless of all of that the car drives, provides a leather bed and the biggest trunk you will ever see. 

So after pulling up at Quartz Mountain I find out that some how in the world I managed to pick a holiday (by this time I had stopped worrying about what day not to mention month it was).  There are literally hundreds of families, teenage parties and beer drinkers scattered all over the only place to camp.  After finding the quietest area I could in this region and throwing up my ultra-light one-man tent in the middle of multi-room, eight feet tall tents I finally decided to relax.  The best thing about this camping place (it sucked) was that a family camping next to me spent over an hour setting up a ten gallon, solar shower system which came fully equipped with a large shower curtain thirty feet from perfectly good, free showers.  All of a sudden the lake which I am camping maybe thirty feet from becomes the setting for a jet ski speed competition.  Anyway that night sucked.  In the morning I drove to the rocks and actually enjoyed a great morning climbing with a couple who happened to be alumni from the university I attended. 

By noon it was already 102 degrees.  I was really sick of the heat and considering I was on a road trip I felt no obligation to deal with it.  I hit the road and knocked out in Oklahoma City with plans of pushing to Colorado the next mourning.  After making an early start on the road I decided to take a driving stop at Rock City, Kansas where I climbed for a couple hours.  The bouldering is actually excellent here in case you were wondering (though easy). 

I continued driving toward Colorado when I noticed that the weather was starting to look pretty bad.  I pulled off at a gas station and asked a redneck with a Kansas license plate what he thought of the weather.  He promptly announced that the weather was nothing to be worried about.  Presuming that I was just an ignorant Texan I grabbed some gas and hit the road.  Just before I reached a county called Goodland the wind really started picking up and lightening starts to strike at about six beams per second.  Though I was driving at ten miles per hour my car was being pulled off the side of the highway due to the winds.  I switch on the radio (all I could find was a gospel channel) to find out that there are multiple tornado warnings for my exact position.  I didn't really take it serious but decided I better pull off at Goodland and grab a cheap motel just incase. 

Pulling off at the Motel 8 I find out that the entire hotel is full with storm chasers.  I have seen these vehicles (large trucks with oversized satellite looking objects in the back) in the movies but they actually exist, not too mention there were at least fifteen of them parked at the Motel 8 alone.  Finally I found a place and knocked out after watching the half inch hale falling at a forty five degree angle from sky.  Luckily a tornado did not touch down and take out my car.  A video of the lightening is here.

The next morning I pushed on and made it to Denver.  Denver reminded me of Houston (big, flat and awful traffic) way too much so I simply continued to Boulder.  There I found Neptune Mountaineering where I grabbed a green alien (rock climbing gear) and inquired about the nearest camping.  Like everyone that visits Boulder finds out, I obtained the answer that there is no cheap camping in Boulder.  After walking around for a while I also understood why there is no cheap camping in this area (if there was all the climbing bums would live there).  So I used my crash pad to block out my wind shield and went to sleep in front of Neptune. 

The next morning I drove to Estes Park and fell in love.  I decided that the I would go try my first (roped) solo climb the next day so I went to scout out a route.  Wanting to start with something extremely easy I walked out to a slabby low angle slab rock called the Pear.  Directly before you reach this rock there is a sign notifying you that the 'Pearish' was closed due to bird nesting.  I incorrectly decided that this was referring to the 'Pear' and therefore choose to simply 'man-up' and do the rock formation (seen on left) called 'The Book' which I had passed on the way to the 'Pear'. 

Now this is when you need to understand my approach to life.  I am a true believer in the jump into the deep end and you will learn how to swim approach.  The second race I ever ran was a Marathon (preceded only by a half marathon).  I started my first company at the age of sixteen.  And the second time I ever went climbing I was the most experienced climber (or should I say in-experienced) there and was leading.

So here The next morning I am standing in front of the 'The Book ' planning to do a route called 'Pear Buttress'.  My experience included about fifty trad leads in my life and I had never used a soloist (the tool used to climb by yourself) before.  Actually I found climbing solo quite easy and for some reason I had little to no fear on the first three pitches.  At this point I found out that the guidebook which I was referring to at this time sucks (buy Gillet's guidebook if you can afford it).  It did not mention to yield right after three pitches allowing you to skip a 5.8+ slab runout that took no protection for about thirty feet.  Pulling through this pitch and then aiding through an easy (but very dangerous on solo) roof I escaped to a false summit (the top of Pear Buttress).

Luckily I quickly found partners so I could avoid doing this insanity again.  I lived between Roosevelt National Forest and a small pull off for the next two months (both free camping).  I ended up climbing about sixty hours a week and completing dozens of lines all over Lumpy Ridge and inner park.  I also started to find a real appreciation for bouldering.  Trad climbing really takes allot of mental energy.  Bouldering is a beautiful release from this as well as the insane amount of gear that Trad climbing can demand.  I have often considered selling all the gear and becoming a boulderer.  This would be much more tempting if I was not so heavily drawn to big walls.

My super cheap lifestyle was going excellent until one night.  I am camping at the pull off (I have been parking there for weeks now) and a car pulls up with the brights on.  A man steps out and asks who is in the tent with a serious voice.  My instinct is somebody is messing with us so I reply fairly aggressively 'who the heck are you?'.  Well it turned out it was the sheriff (he should have notified me who he was from the start in my opinion).  He was actually very nice when he found out that I was a rock climber trying to live cheaply but notified me that I needed to stop sleeping there.  So now I was forced to drive about fifteen miles a night to the next free camping area.  Thirty miles a day was really adding up especially that the local gas was 2.40 / gallon.

I decided to leave town for a while and visited Boulder, Colorado Springs and the South Platte area.  I felt at home every time I returned to Estes Park.  Therefore I choose to purchase a small studio style apartment inside of Estes Park.  This is where I sat down and wrote the source code for Spadout.com on a series of rainy days. 

Of course the story never ends.  I just concluded a week in the Grand Tetons.  In a month and a half I am off to Yosemite to be part of the Mecca.  I also plan to return to my big wall training ground this Christmas; El Potrero Chico.  The most important thing though is that I am truly happier then I have ever been in my life.  This short article does not even come close to doing justice for all the amazing people I have met during the last four months and experiences I have had with them.

I am always looking for partners for climbing, hiking or to introduce me to new sports.  If you are in the Estes Park area (or going to be) feel free to contact me.  Dream big, fight hard and never give up.

- Mark Silliman

P.S. I would also like to give my friend Clay credit for this awesome domain name (Spadout.com - SPort ADventure OUTdoors). 

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