Pavel and Carol on their way to Pinnacles (photo Rob).

Pinnacles - a classic view.

When Lisa complainet about a toothache in the moment we wanted her to finish her dinner, it left me relatively unmoved. My daughter has a relatively large repertoir of tricks regarding (not) eating food — from going to bathroom, pretended fatigue, unpretended vomiting, hiding food in her bedside cabinet, to regular whimpering or hysterics. I first placed her tooth somewhere between bathroom and fatigue, and tried not to worry too much. But when she started crying upon biting in an apple, which she likes and for which she asked herself, I began to feel like a Mother of the Year, and we made an appointment with a dentist.

I was surprised at the doctor's good mood (she made rather serious faces upon seeing my kids' previous cavities). She said she was almost sure what was happening to Lisa, even before she would open her mouth. She checked Lisa's teeth, Lisa made no sound. Then she reached deeper into her mouth and Lisa squealed that it hurts. Well — Lisa is growing molars. It was time for me to play the fool, but it did not occur to me. I mostly did not expect that it would be Lisa who'd be first hit with molar problems, instead of her two-years older brother Tom. His gums are swollen, too, but he keeps holding on all of his first teeth; he's somewhat behind in this regard. Lisa is, on the other hand, somewhat accelerated (she grew her first tooth in her seventeenth week!). In any case, I could relax that my daughter was not having any more cavities; a redundant visit to a dentist is better than neglect.

On one weekend, when it started looking like spring, I let Pavel and Rob lure me into Pinnacles. The western end is less touristy; thus we hoped to encounter here fewer climbers as well. On Kibbles and Bites (5.9) Pavel led two pitches. Compared to the easter side of Pinnacles, it was more interesting by the absence of chalk on the rock — one had to probe on her own, where to reach. Then Pavel led Bits'n Pieces and I let him convince me to lead on these solid hundred feet as well. I must say that besides one somewhat interesting step across and overhang, it was very simple. This, however, concluded our idylic era of lonely climbing. A herd of climbers set camp under the wall — desperado types with a pro guide who would not stop yapping. I understand that bread in this line of work is hard-earned, but he could at least shout less while doing so.

Bits'n Pieces (photo Pavel).

Pinnacles thistle

We moved a bit away from the loud-mouth, to Jumangi. It was supposed to be 5.10a, hence only a little more difficult than Bits'n Pieces, yet when I saw Pavel fight it under the first quickdraw, all my temptations to lead it disappeared. It turned out to be pleasantly climb-able on top-rope, I even huffed and puffed properly.

Just then arrived Sid with the children — while we had driven out at seven a.m., the rest of my family got up leisurely, ate breakfast, and reached Pinnacles at road-tripping pace. I was surprised that we actually found each other, although it might be hard to miss Lisa in her pink skirt. I had prepared short trousert for her, but it probably was not fashionable enough. A little girl in hiking boots and a skirt drew appropriate attention and admiration, which was the idea anyway. Well, the skinned knees were hers, too. Our family had a small snack break under our rock wall, and then they continued to the caves with the plan to either meet us on the way back, or not.

Meanwhile Pavel led another ten, I climbed it quickly top-rope — then the guys began to feel an itch to go somewhere with fewer people and with longer routes and whatever. A typical scene ensued: men-discoverers rush into the unknown, while I am impeded in lough damning the aforementioned discoverers only by being seriously out of breath. I know Pinnacles rather well, we have covered the well-trodden trails to caves and main climbing areas, hence I took along simple sandals, quite adequate for such a terrain. However, Citadel is hidden out in a deserted canyon, where no roads go. A climbing route there operates only half of the year — in times when then canyon is closed for nesting birds of prey, it freely grows over with grass and bushes; hence we got lost a few times. My mood was not improved by sandals filling with bearded grass seeds, dust and small rocks. They reminded me of similar expeditions in the Czech-German border area along Labe (Elbe) — climbers around the world are crazy in the same way.

Balconies Trail — about middle of the picture, on the rocks, is a light spot — Carol climbing.

Kids on Balconies Trail.

Citadel is a beautiful rock, no doubt. It's about accesible like Sleeping Beauty's castle, and just as frequently visited. On the beginning of the first pitch of the route we entered though a mossy trench, followed by lichen traverse — one could clearly see where the leading climber Pavel stepped — on small bald spots of rock in the soft growth. The second pitch was even more overgrown and ended in an ugly corner without a place to stand. Climbing harness is supposed to be a bit more comfortable than a simple rope loop over your stomach or breast, but in this place I began to have my doubts. Pavel tried to find the third pitch of the route, Rob and I suffered in our harnesses and I was extremely grateful for a helmet. Pavel resembled a gopher more than a climber, raining sod, lichen and moss down on us; a few rocks buzzed past our heads occasionally (a very disquieting sound).

As I began to think about how to wiggle out of finishing the route, Pavel had decided to give up, for time has advanced so much we would probably need our head lamps for our decent. Even now, still in daylight, getting down was interesting — while my sandals slipped and collected sharp rocks on the way up, going down was quite worse. But we made it half way home before dusk fell, and that was good.

Tommy had been long asking for a visit at Martin's. When Martin offered in the winter to baby-sit, while I was being a straw widow, he impressed TOm with his electric trains. And since Tom has a memory of an elephant, he would never forget Martin's good deed. So we arranged a visit. All went according to a plan, I was chatting with Bára in the kitchen, Martin and Hippo were in the adjacent living room, watching Tom and the trains. Lisa had a pancake with chocolate, and then she proceeded in her typical fairy activities.

Model Lisa in hiking boots and a skirt, instructing model Toma in correct postures.

Graduation at pre-school.

The fact that little girls of certain age turn into fairies, was discovered by my virtual acquaintance Missorka. A girl can whisper to a rose bush or dance on a lawn for an hour, or talk to a piece of scarf in the corner of a room. Meanwhile a fairy does not reflect to directions concening departure to pre-school or cleaning up her toys. A fairy has a hard time accepting rules for rainy days and cold weather, limiting running barefoot outdoors. Or pulling a sweater over her dress — a fairy prefers getting blue and shivery, but staying beautiful. Our fairy is probably a cross-breed with a banshee, for she would sometimes drop her dreamy countenance to express a very un-ladylike opinion. After confronting with the will of her parents, she returns again into a fairy state of mind, now wailing over such horrible injustice, telling it all to the aforementioned rose bush etc.

Fairies can apparently walk on tip-toes and their presence is frequently very inobtrusive. That's my only explanations for the fact that we did not find anything wrong with Lisa's play at Bára and Martin's place. When I later — compelled by several cups of tea — felt an urge to visit their bathroom, and my gaze fell upon a distictive black line circling the toilet seat, I concluded that it was most likely an art experiment of one the Vana's boys. I did not have much time to think about it, and my thoughts mostly went it the direction of hoping that the line on the seat was not about to copy over and I would not end up with a black circel on my buttocks. Then my eye cought a spiral featured on a wall next to a towel hook. This one was rather jagged; I began to suspect that such decoration was unlikely a work of anyone over ten years of age. A quick glance at a countertop around a washbasin nearly gave me a heart attack. A princess-ammonite absolved Tom of suspicion of authorship (he would have drawn a train).

What followed was like a fast-cut movie scene. Tub, tiles, vanity, toilet bowl, toilet tank — every piece sported at least a hieroglyph. I could not believe my eyes. Till today, I am at a loss. When Lisa decided to decorate someone's household, why did she choose Vana's bathroom? And why use a BLACK PERMANENT MARKER??? Why could she not whisper to a towel or dance before the mirror? If Tom was doing something like this, I'd be probably nervous about him being out of sight and quiet; with Lisa-fairy, I take it for granted. Well, we're still expecting a bill (at least for the ruined seat, Bára and Martin!!!) and an invitation to a workday, painting the bathroom.

A winged fairy.

Our kids and Bryce on Davenport Landing.

On Wednesday twenty-sixth of May, Lisa's pre-school year officially ended. Just like last year with Tommy, we attended a ceremony in a church. Juniors in robes and square graduation tassel hats felt very important, while Lisa showed off her modeling smiles. The whole (mercifully short) occasion was ended with a song, thanking parents. I would have almost shed a few sentimental tears, if I did not have to keep poking Tom, who was bored and obnoxious — eventually I permitted him to draw a railroad station and a high speed train on the program, to stop his permanent queries about when we're going to go home. Lisa's big dream came through, for she could wear WINGS in the final scene. Later it became an almost superhuman challenge for me to convince her to take them off, so that she could sit in her car seat for the way home.

Pre-school was closed on Thursday and Friday, and the following Monday fell on a state holiday (Memorial Day). The attached weekend is known to be hopeless concerning traffic and accommodations — thousands of people enjoy the first warm holiday of the year; thus we have not planned any trip. I thought it a good idea to take the whole family on Saturday to Pinnacles and lead there two or three easy routes for the kids and my Hippo. I invited Tom's friend Bryce and his mom Rumiko, and two climbers–beginners, hoping to create a fun program. I devoted Friday afternoon to packing climbing gear for the whole family, baking oatmeal cookies (to fortify kids before their sports event) and cleaning out our bus (to accommodate Bryce and Rumiko along with us). In the evening I quickly borrowed Rob's sixty meter rope (mine is only fifty meters), a helmet and a few carbines. During all that I noticed a cold coming on; my throat hurt a little. A two in the morning I was choking and could not sleep for pain; I reckoned that in some seven hours I certainly would not be able to climb rocks — I cancelled the whole affair in the last moment. I felt like a complete idiot. but I am apparently growing old or I'm turning into a male, when a simple common cold can bring me down this badly.

Sid loaded all three kids and Rumiko in the bus in the morning, and took them to an alternative trip to Santa Cruz. I crawled back to bed and left it only by two thirty in the afternoon, when I was due for another dose of tylenol. The rest of my family enjoyed a beach and the aquarium, only in our favorite restaurant Sid had to explain how come he brought a different woman along this time.