I had been afraid that locking the keys in Ron Barry’s 4-Runner at a Mobil station outside of Bakersfield was a bad omen for our trip to the Courtwright Reservoir. Ron, Laurie Carr, and I were delayed an hour while we waited for the AAA guy. Yet once we came around a corner into the park, and saw the wide expanse of the Power Dome at dusk, all was forgiven. We stared across the canyon at the granite mass, all of us uttering a collective, "Oooooh."

Saturday morning Laurie joined Greg Vernon as chief battery pack sherpa on the Power Dome, and Ron and I cluelessly drove the 500 yards to Spring Dome. He put me on "Double-Double" (5.6 trad) to test my leading skills. I led both pitches, fairly slow but without much problem until I reached the top and was struck by the substantial lack of anchor potential. I started panicking, wrestling tri-cams and nuts into dirty, shallow cracks, until I finally looked up and realized there was a rather large bomb-proof tree. Ron joined me at the summit and eyeballed my anchor of red, green and purple slings. "One sling around the tree probably would have done it," he said.

All morning on Spring Dome we saw only four other climbers. The view of the reservoir with perfectly rounded white domes sprouting up along its banks rendered the entire area a climber’s playground. After lunch we wandered over to Trapper Dome. On the way we passed my TLW mate Steve Kohut with Ted Lewis preparing for his RM eval the next day. A little further around, we ran into Shauna Hermes photographing Michael Gordon back-stepping for the camera on "Tao."

I led the first two pitches of "Dingo" along a 5.7 crack that took pro easily, and then in no time we were up the final 5.8 pitch led by Ron, watching the sun begin to sink behind the Trapper Dome.

Back at the campsite the girls ruled, with Patty Rambert, Judy Molland, Laurie and myself discussing the various merits of movie star sleeper masks and eye pillows when camping. We succeeded in scaring Steve Tuszynski, John Thau, Steve Cole and Ron away from our picnic table, muttering comments like, "Sure is different having so many women in the campground."

Laurie had climbed well on Saturday, leading the first pitch (5.8 bolted) of "A Little Nukey," on the Power Dome, and following Greg easily the remainder of the way. On Sunday, she joined Don and John on Pentstemon Dome, where Ron and I headed as well. I led and weeded an overgrown crack up to "Rope-A-Dope" (5.8+ bolted,) where we encountered Joe King and his gang who let us have a turn on the route. Ron led, and we rapped back down to discover a long line of climbers from San Francisco jostling each other on the ledge and barking out to those behind them, "There’s no more room up here!" and, "We were here first, you’ll have to go back down!"

We SCMAers decided to bail at that point, and prepared to rappel down the left-hand side. We could see Greg Vernon and Mary Lohrman, John and Carrie Thau on "No Zukes," and Don, John and Laurie on "Song of the Earth," beyond them. Many "Heys!" and "Woo-hoos," were called out. One of the San Francisco women said to Ron, "Who are you people?" He explained about the SCMA and she said, "Seems like you guys are everywhere. Is there any way to get a hold of your calendar so we can avoid you next year?"

After the mob scene on Pentstemon we decided to hit the reservoir and then Trapper again after a swim. But it was so peaceful, cool, and quiet down at the slabs along the beach by the campsite, we never made it back up to climb. We were joined by Dan Gerlach who regaled us with stories of his and Dave Pylman’s 5.11 conquests of the day which shrank my little "first" of leading a 5.7 crack the day before back down to human proportions.

Back at camp, everyone was fired up about the day’s climbs and Ron and I started to wonder if maybe we could pull off the Power Dome the next day. He could lead 5.9- no problem, but could I handle the 5.8 trad and bolted pitches on "A Little Nukey?" I lost track of Ron, (most likely "visiting" with Steve Cole,) so I went to consult Greg Vernon and Don and John for advice. Mary encouraged me, saying she thought I could do it. I asked Greg which pitches I should lead, which approach we should take, and where to park. He answered my questions slowly, as though he were speaking to a retarded person. I got back to our picnic table, eager to share my info with Ron. "Yeah," he said. "I know. I just asked Greg the same questions five minutes ago."

I woke up at 4am, listening to climbers in their tents snoring and farting around me and attempting to visualize the one bolted pitch and two trad cracks I would lead in a few hours. At 8am, we parked the truck at the top of the Power Dome, and started our hike in behind the dome along the Pentstemon Creek as Greg had suggested. We passed hollowed out pools and waterfalls – a truly peaceful, scenic approach. Eventually the largest waterfall led us down to the dike traverse along the base of the Power Dome. With us crossing the narrow band of rock heading north, and the river’s waters rushing fifty feet below us in an opposite, southernly direction, I started to get vertigo and quickly donned my helmet and shoes.

Once at the base of "A Little Nukey," I looked up the 900 feet, scanning frantically for bolts, and unable to spot a single one, immediately started to schiz out. I tried to collect myself, organize my gear, and sing the Winnie the Pooh prayer song, "Thank you God for a beautiful day," which usually calms me right down in tight climbing spots, but this time it wasn’t working.

Ron and I took a closer look at the climbers ahead of us on the route – the only two other people on the face of the dome – and realized we would once again be following Joe King and his friend Carrie. Knowing Joe’s calm and expert demeanor would be present reassured me somehow, and as Ron began pointing out the first few bolts of my route, it all started to come into focus. I tied in, took a deep breath and started up. I sang the Pooh song to myself as I climbed, counting bolt after bolt until all eight had been attained. I quickly created an anchor from my cordelette and blew out a huge breath of relief. Already the view from the dome was incredible – the imposing face across the canyon and the road beyond, the massive dam to the north, the river rushing a hundred plus feet below.

Ron easily led the second, fourth and fifth pitches, and I tackled the third and sixth. Traversing right to the start of the third pitch, I looked up at the crack I was to lead and it felt familiar. It looked to me like many of the cracks we had practiced on in the TLW (although further from the ground,) and I knew I could do it.

Five hours from our start, I was setting an anchor on the top of the Power Dome. My first bolted 5.8 lead and my first 5.8 trad crack. Woo-hoo! Walking off we ran into Shauna and Michael and their friend Doug ending their day on Pentstemon. We thanked Doug and Michael for the beta they had provided the night before, and headed once more for the rocky beaches of the reservoir.

In camp, Laurie and Carrie Thau reported their adventures of top-roping 10+ rated routes on the Dome of the Immaculate Conception. High-fives for the NTC class of 2000.

The fire burned high and bright in the campsite on Monday night, as Greg Vernon serenaded us with old fraternity songs about tequila-drinking mice. As I looked up at the Trapper Dome silhouetted above us in the moonlight, I thought about how perfect the weekend had been, thanks to kind and patient RMs like Ron and Michael, trip leaders like Don, and frat ditty singing guidebook authors whose guidance had ensured a stress-free ascent of the Power Dome.