This is Roo. She's keeping my sleeping bag safe and secure. And that is the BLM pit, lucky site #14, sheltered from the wind by ancient gravel burial mounds and wood pallet reinforcements.
My winter break from school included 4 days in Bishop, although it was unrecognizable without all the ice and snow. Really it was odd to have wished I brought shorts and sandals to the Buttermilks. Every other time I've been there it was "double puffy" weather, water bottles freezing solid, escaping to Keough for survival and keeping your chili cheeze bread thawed in the foot of your sleeping bag. This time around I was comfortable. There were no epics, I climbed all day in great weather, had a nice dinner each night and drank a beer by the fire, before retiring to my -20F Marmot 800 fill-power furnace bag at 9pm sharp to sweat my way through another starry 30F night. I felt like an old guy.
My favorite climb of the trip was Funky Tut V3, which took me more attempts than I'd like to admit. It was like an old guy version of Soul Slinger in a way.
On the way home through Yosemite on 120 I ran over a small boulder that wasn't as small as it looked. It tore through every sensitive part of the undercarriage of my Saab, resulting in a repair bill upwards of $7k. I may be in the market for a new car, if anyone wants to recommend a wagon (Jetta vs. Volvo XC vs. Outback). At least I caught a few pictures of folks playing ice hockey at 9,000 ft:
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