My friends ended their visit with a guided rock climb in Yosemite Valley with the Yosemite Mountaineering School (they provide excellent guided trips). Since I don’t do the “death stuff,” I didn’t join them for their adventure (when my feet come off the ground I start getting nervous). They returned from their day-long climb enchanted with the park and exhilarated at climbing a granite wall in Yosemite.
What intrigued me was the name of their route: C.S. Concerto. I won’t repeat what the C.S. stands for, but will hint that it refers to a common sexual expletive. My curiosity was piqued and I checked out a climbing books. The names of the routes are filled with a wonderful poetry. I can only imagine the story behind some of these designations. From my brief perusal of the guidebooks, here are some of my favorites:
No Love-Chump Sucker
Kung Pao Chicken
Boogie with Stu
Desperate for Donuts
Gidget Goes to Yosemite
God Told Me to Skin You Alive
Your Pizza is Ready