Tequila Mockingbird/Dry Martini: This is the third time I’ve been on one or the other or both of these routes and I don’t think I’ve ever actually been on either one of them. The intertwining lines with shared belays are too indistinct. Even Steven didn’t get it right.

Todd leads the first pitch of one, ending somewhere on the second pitch of the other, just below the bolt. I lead through to the top, doing the crux of the route with the bolt – this is easily identified by there being a bolt at the crux – and finishing on heaven knows what, but not bad climbing.

We’re somewhere in the vicinity of Snooky’s and what the hell? I’m tired of this route hanging over my head ever since I backed off it more than a year ago. Nemesis be gone.

I’ve already led the second pitch and with a three person party above us we don’t really feel like going to the top. This means stopping slightly below the end of the first pitch where there’s a fixed anchor, which I know means Steven won’t give me full marks for leading it (and indeed that last short section is a thinker), but I’ll be satisfied just to get the crux near the ground.

What a difference a year makes! Or maybe it’s just having Todd’s rack instead of Steven’s. I get a nut in, small but not hopelessly small, that I actually feel pretty good about and with that confidence booster I step up slightly and find that I’m able to get another small nut in.

“Don’t clip that till it’s at your waist,” Todd says.

Huh? Why in the world wouldn’t I clip this nut over my head? By the time it’s at my waist the move is over and I’m done. He thinks it’s not good enough to clip – just psychological gear unworthy of the rope out.

I look at it twice. I’m very happy with this piece. I clip it. I make the moves and sail through to the ledge, feeling good, great in fact.

There really used to be an anchor here. I’m sure of it. It’s going to be annoying if we have to go to the top, although the party ahead of us is moving quickly and we could aim for the line they’re taking instead of making up our own. Maybe they actually know where the second pitch goes.

“Is there a fixed anchor up there,” I call to the guy who’s been left behind. There is. So I lead the last section of the first pitch after all and poke my head over the smooth white rock to see a pair of bolts. Excellent.

“You cruised that,” the guy who’s been left behind says.

“Once I got past the sticky part,” I declaim modestly, but I feel victorious.