Curt had met Bob, one of the Laramie locals the night before, and we all went out do some hard stuff. Bob was going to lead Horn's Mother, 5.11, overhanging hands and fists. So he did. In fine style, with the rack completely dialled. Curt followed in equally fine style. I attempted to follow in fine style. I then attempted to follow in not fine style. Same result both times. I could do the overhanging hands, I could start the overhanging fists, but I couldn't keep it up. Not even for the 40 feet for the first pitch. Fun to try though. Pretty happy with how I did.
While I was climbing, Bob was taking pictures. Occasionally of me, but mostly of the girl in tight clothes coming up the slab to our left. She ended up sticking around to watch Bob and Curt do the second pitch, to the sheer delight of Bob.
For the next 100 feet or so, Bob grunted, heaved, kicked his legs free, and generally hammed it up for her (and to a lesser extent my camera) Accompanied by frequent queries of "Is she looking?" Bob finally made it to the top, we he could sit long enough to have a smoke while Curt came up.
Curt and Bob toproped Fourth of July Crack afterwards, but I didn't feel like even bothering on 5.12+ thin stuff. Matt showed up, and we managed to get a toprope on a slab problem there and had a play for a bit. Bob had been champing at the bit to go and do more hard stuff, but we held him off long enough to get a climb in.
That night was a party at Zac's house, local climber and guidebook author. A non-climbing australian tried to tell us that the climbers in the Blue Mountains used bolt guns to put their bolts in, because his friends did, and he had seen them. The story eventually changed, but not before he'd attempted to dig an even deeper hole for himself. Zac changed the scene of the evening by bringing out a giant potato cannon. What better excuse to launch oranges and potatos into the neighbourhood than a bit of cheap beer?