This is fun. Or at least that’s what you remind yourself as you feel your tendons and bones mash over each other. You look down at your bloody ankle, and ten feet beyond that is a big blue cam that doesn’t look so big anymore. You wish you had slung your rack over your other shoulder as you feel for another blue cam. Why am I here? Why am I out in this cold harsh desert, ten feet above a blue cam, bleeding from my ankles, three days before Christmas? The blue cam fits perfectly like you knew it would and you realize how quiet it is. This is fun.