.stgeorge. (Chuckwalla, Wall of Misfortune, VRG)

After a stellar day linking up Chastity Crack to Locksmith Dihedral, Alex and I headed to St. George to flee the rains in Zion and allow time for the soft sandstone to dry.

There we did some "rest day climbing" at Chuckwalla Wall, just enough to keep the forearms and tendons aligned.

Closeup of one of the local crushers, known only among the cutting-edge sport climbing elite as "Cowboy."

A proper rest day ensued, replete with coffeeshop-hopping, indoor dining and even a shower (which may or may not have been my first in a month).

Zion still needed time to dry, so we headed out to the Mormon Mountains for some water-impermeable rock. Amidst a barren wasteland populated only by stunted Joshua trees and barrel cacti, there lies a cache of bulletproof limestone known as the Wall of Misfortune.

Routes are sharp and technical, requiring deliberate movement and delicate footwork. This zone is like an uninhabited miniature Potrero Chico.

This forbidding landscape was a very different desert than the Colorado Plateau or Joshua Tree.

Between the short approaches and our thin epidermis, there was plenty time for apres-climbing activities.

Alex made his signature tofu Pad Thai.

After two days of sharp crimping, we needed to burn one more day before returning to Zion, so we stopped by America's ugliest crag -- the Virgin River Gorge. Roadside cragging in the worst possible sense of the word, the VRG hosts excellent steep limestone within a stone's throw of Interstate 15.

Here you can get spanked by some of the West's hardest bolted lines, your screams of "take" lost in the cacophony of downshifting semitrucks and shattering windshields as meth-addled carjackers rifle through your vehicle for valuables. This is industrial 1990's sport climbing at its best.

The climbing, however, is quite nice. "Forever Man" offered 115 feet of overhanging 5.11a literal jughandles, the type of gym-alicious climbing that you scoff never exists in real life. The last five feet earn the grade at 5.12b/c.

This type of climbing uses a deceptive amount of tricky footwork. I got a partial bat-hang by heel-toe camming both feet in a shelf and then holding a crunch position while waiting for blood to flow to my fingers (just like Chris Carraba, I'll be alright when my hands get warm). Heel hooks abound, along with whatever it's called when you hook the back of your knee over something ghastly.

It's a brutish place that brings out your inner simian. Not exactly my cup of tea, but worth experiencing. If I lived in St. George, I'd spend some time here. On the bright side, all the vertical climbing we did after this felt low-angle in comparison!

And now, back to Zion, where we actually know what we're doing ...