Crazy Mountains         (NOTE: This post written by Adam) _______________________________________________________ So on Friday afternoon, Rom and I joined a couple of locals, (Colin, Brad, Brady, Matt, Ritchie) for a few days of camping. Our original plan was to drive to the Crazy Mountains East of Bozeman and attempt to summit the range's highest peak, the Crazy Peak. Cody was still a little beat up from a prior strenuous day and Rob apparently had some obligations as a reporter so they stayed behind in Bozeman. Our drive in was quite uneventful, we made it there in 2 hours and immediately started our climb to Blue Lake which lay at the base of Crazy Peak. That night we set up camp cooked a gourmet dinner and talked stupidly with a bottle of Jack Daniels and a few other goodies. The next morning we woke up late for a summit-day and immediately packed our day packs for 9 hours of hiking/scrambling/bouldering. We based our attack route off of a map that a local 50 year-old hippie drew from when he climbed the peak 25 years earlier. Interestingly enough, the map was remarkably accurate. On our way up, however, we couldn't really find the route that the hippie talked of so we decided to scramble up the scree fields. . . an idiotic move by anyone's standards. This decision proved to be, umm, bad when a scree-slide caused more than a lot of rocks to slide down the face of the mountain. Fortunately for us, though, Rom stopped some of them with his right arm. The same right arm that had been smashed up from his fall two days prior while biking. At this point we could see Rom but he wasn't moving too quickly so we shouted, "Rom are you okay!" and he replied, "I don't know." Now that is not something you wanna hear while mountaineering. Before we could let that soak in, Rom chirped in again, "I think it might be broken." At this point we had several of us trying to carefully skip over to him, hopping from "sturdy" rock to "sturdy" rock. When we got there the arm was bleeding so badly we had bandage him up using a few old gauze pads and bandanas. I'll spare you on the gruesome pics. At this point we all looked at the false summit, looked at eachother, looked at the false summit, looked at eachother, and then finally a smart person said, "I am outta here. This shit is sketchy. Let's go jump some cliffs" So with that one comment we all descended to a little valley where we slowly made our way to basecamp, paying careful attention to the waterfalls and wildflowers. Once we reached basecamp, we headed out on another excursion for some cliffs and some air time... After jumping for an hour or so we set back to camp. Two of the locals and I drove back to Bozeman for what was supposed to be a night of partying but quickly turned into a night of PBR and slow-motion talking. Rom decided to spend another night in the backcountry. In the end, it was another great trip. El Fin, Adamo ps: Legend has it the Crazies were named after a settler woman who lost her mind and ran into these mountains, never to be found again. According to the legend, she still haunts these mountains, causing nightmares and accidents to all those who enter. The legend held true this trip.