Cutting rocks to fakie

I don't know why I put these up. They're two older pictures of me doing rock to fakies in big scary cement half pipes. That's really it, nothing else to say about that. Actually, that first picture reminded me of this time that I followed Dan in jumping off this big drop onto a pile of rocks. We were out in the mountains scoping out a good camping spot for that weekend. We flew too close to the sun on wings of camping and found ourselves trapped up on this steep, unfriendly mountain. We seriously could find no other down but jumping off this 6 or 7 foot drop onto this really steep pile of little rocks. Dan assured me that it was perfectly safe and that nothing in the world could ever possibly go wrong. Because for Dan, nothing ever does. Seriously, nothing. Ever. So Dan jumped off just fine, then I made the mistake of thinking that I was as limber, fortunate, cat-like, elven-like, or down right lucky as Dan. I followed him off the ledge, my knee landed on the edge of this sharp, large rock (seriously the only large rock in this big pile of small rocks. The only rock that wouldn't budge when you landed on it) and cut open my pants and knee. I have this straight scar going across my knee, it looks like it was a knife cut or something. But that scar has since been covered by several others, so you can't really even see it now. Anyway, those pants still have the straight cut going across the knee. But we did still end up finding a great spot to camp and had fun that weekend...