After breakfast Ted and I look at Dogleg and Double Cross, but they are both busy. So we wander over to The Flake and he starts up. The beginning chimney looks a little scrunchy even for him, then he exits right and puts a piece in that provides plenty of rope drag for the rest of the route. Following, in the hard part of the chimney I feel like my knees are in my ears. I move an inch or two at a time, grunting excessively. “What a strange thing we do ourselves getting on climbs like this,” I think. After I take out the rope drag piece though, the rest is gravy. Sweet featured hand crack to lumpy friction finish. At the top, Ted is in trouble for belaying off the rap station. Then, when we rap, Ted yells “ROPE!”, throws it, and hits an English tourist who complains loudly. I hear him tell her, “Yeah, that’s why we yell ROPE!” Then, when she is paralyzed with fear on the walk-off, he helps her down, step by step.