CLEBURN
By Jan Capps
Tim, Greg Hodges, and I loaded up Tim’s beatup orange Volkswagen GT and took off for Cleburn. I’ll never forget that first trip. Cleburn isn’t exactly open to climbing. Back then, a gun-toting redneck fondly known as "The General" used to patrol his land and point climbers to the door with his trusty shotgun. We had questioned a few climbers and knew that he didn’t confiscate any gear though, so we figured it was worth the risk. Tim was a little paranoid, so he had us get our packs ready so we could park and be out of sight as quickly as possible. It wasn’t clear how we should proceed since the obvious visible entrance, a dirt road with a huge gate across it, was clearly visible from the General’s house. The other option was to scramble through dense brush and trees and come in behind the cliff. We gave this a shot and luckily found some dirt trails in the woods. At one point, we came up to this barbed-wire fence with a "No Trespassing" sign on it. There were shotgun holes in the sign facing out. We took a moment to meditate upon that before proceeding. It took a bit of scrambling, but we finally made it to the cliffs. ... Mileski cont.
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