Crossing the maritime obstacle course of kelp beds, giant driftwood and stony outcroppings the approach to Larabee bouldering was described to me as fourth class on the rocks with a dash of Jager. Really fun, exceedingly beautiful, but it might sting just a bit. Now here we all are, walking single file across a beached conifer, trying our best not to sail off and into the knee-deep and somewhat crabby tangle of seaweed below. With a gust of wind, my crash pad sets me in the exact opposite direction I had hoped for, down. Off and in the spongy weeds, the landing is soft, but my pride feels the sting.
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