Discussion Topic |
|
This thread has been locked |
Ihateplastic
Trad climber
Lake Oswego, Oregon
|
|
|
May 21, 2009 - 07:26pm PT
|
Just spoke with Largo and he is swamped with some sort of Stonemaster book thingie so I will post his story tonight/tomorrow AM once I get off this Crackberry.
|
|
yo
climber
I drink your milkshake!
|
|
|
May 21, 2009 - 09:59pm PT
|
bump
I am slowly steeling myself for the depressing thought that neither Pratt nor TM chucked a stone off Columbia, and there was no bear of any name, and everybody was tucked in bed that night by ten.
(hahaha at Breedlove's post)
|
|
dogtown
climber
Cheyenne,Wyoming
|
|
|
May 21, 2009 - 10:14pm PT
|
Nice read you all.
Sir Robinson an American Alpinist!
|
|
Patrick Oliver
Boulder climber
Fruita, Colorado
|
|
|
May 22, 2009 - 02:04am PT
|
About two months before Chuck passed away, he and I
had a conversation that lasted approaching two
hours. He seemed more open than he usually was
and freely spoke about his ascent of the Twilight
Zone, some of which I have included in my history
"Wizards of Rock" (Largo, the whole story is there
about his retreat. You have a little of it right). I'm
not sure if Steve would want to post that account.
Chuck also told me about his interest in photography,
and he was, of course, very humble about it. He
seemed like a kid with a new toy. I asked him point
blank if ever wanted to do more writing. He said,
"I wouldn't have a life if I took the time needed to
write." It was a very curious answer, but I do think
he found it difficult -- even if he did those fine
pieces. They weren't simply scribbled out but took a lot
of hard work.
Jan, I could tell you a lot about his "doings" in Thailand,
maybe by email. One thing Chuck emphasized was
that it was much cheaper to live there than in
America, through the winter. But there were other
attractions. I'm not convinced of his commitment to
Buddhism, though he naturally possessed some of those
mentalities and the kinds of human qualities Buddhism
at its best is intended to inspire (poorly worded, sorry).
But I think he remained a bit of an outlaw and wasn't
a ready cast for any clear or obvious definition -- much
beyond Doug's fine, simple comment that he was about
the finest person you could know. Chuck wasn't at all
times "fine," however. He had his "eternal" struggles,
his torments, his lack of patience at times. He could be
downright mean on occasion if someone pulled the wrong
string or said something. He was good at instantly
recognizing the phoney. But a few things said about him
were imposed upon him in retrospect, to some degree.
I don't know if anyone other than you, Jan and Doug,
saw my lengthy tribute to him. But also years and years
ago I wrote a small piece in my book Swaramandal, and
Chuck particularly liked it. He showed me his personal
copy on his bookshelf at his place in Berkeley, once
when I visited him there. It might be nice to put
together all the different writings for him and by him.
Kerwin, your thread is way back, but Chuck wrote more than
one article, I'm sure you know. Two great ones, the
South Face of Washington Column and the View from
Deadhorse Point. A nice smaller classic was about
that Ribbon Falls/Gold Wall climb...
I could spend a long time on some of your questions, but
late at night, very tired, I will say for the moment that he
deeply desired a real and powerful relationship. He wanted love
and certainly had some close encounters with it. But I'm not
sure he ever was blessed with what his heart truly envisioned.
I know his heart was broken a couple times, and he was a
bit wary, all the while he was very open and searching.
At times I really felt his loneliness, even when he
was surrounded by friends.
|
|
Doug Robinson
Trad climber
Santa Cruz
|
|
|
Topic Author's Reply - May 22, 2009 - 02:50am PT
|
Pat,
Thanks for jumping back in. You have some key perspectives here, and I've been hoping that you will post what you've written. You mentioned that "It might be nice to put together all the different writings for him and by him." Seems to me this is it, right here in real time, and it needs a few finishing touches like your piece about the Twilight Zone from Wizards of Rock, which as I've already told you I consider one of the finest and most transcendent passages in the whole underappreciated book.
I never saw Swaramandel so I'm curious what you had to say about Chuck there. And please post up your tribute. I'd like the read it again.
And to get back to the elephant in this room, I agree that his loneliness and wistful hope for a big relationship were likely defining. You can see that in my post this morning. I also think that his wariness out of loss could have contributed to blocking that from happening, but I hesitate to go too far in that or any direction where it's easy to speculate and hard to be sure.
|
|
Ed Hartouni
Trad climber
Livermore, CA
|
|
|
May 22, 2009 - 03:33am PT
|
from A History of Free Climbing in America by Pat Ament
September 1965. Chuck Pratt, with Chris Fredericks, climbed the awe-inspiring Twilight Zone, an eerie, wickedly steep, 5.10+, off-width crack up a sheer wall of Yosemite's Cookie formation.
The second pitch of this route was one of the boldest leads ever done, and entirely without protection. The Twilight Zone is arguably the greatest free-climbing achievement of the '60s era. Perhaps only John Gill's Thimble route in the Black Hills of South Dakota, done four years earlier, compared to it in boldness.
Pratt had a remarkable gift for off-width cracks. A loner, never for sale to the media, he found certain private realms in which to play--including a number of paranormal, dark, scary climbs so ultimate in seriousness that even in his humble manner he was inclined to give them names such as Crack of Doom and Twilight Zone. Whereas John Gill had all the strength, had a mathematical/gymnast mind, and knew how to work up to such an achievement as the Thimble, Pratt, on the other hand, was more spontaneous. He simply found himself there, do or die.
On the second pitch of Twilight Zone, Pratt reached a point well up the crack, hanging there unprotected amid difficulties that were alien and unimaginable to most climbers, who would not be able to do more than claw and gasp for the next inch. Yet there Pratt was, quiet, enduring, as cool as a circus wire-walker. At this fateful moment, he asked Chris Fredericks to use their extra rope, rappel down the first pitch, go to the car, look for a bong-bong (a large piton), and return. It was an amazing effort on Chuck's part, to stay there so long. Chris took what time was required to rappel, hurry down the Cookie road to the car, fetch the largest bong he could find, come back up the road, and use prusik knots to ascend the rope 100 feet or so back to the belay. Chuck then used one hand to pull up the bong with the climbing rope, risking a death fall if he lost his hold of the crack. Below, on the belay ledge, several spikes--actual blades--of rock jut upward that would act as guillotines if someone fell onto them.
We wonder what Pratt thought, during the long wait for Fredericks to return. It must have been quiet. Pratt might have been able to hear himself breathe or hear his clothes press against the granite. We imagine he may have had to shift his feet a time or two, or alternately kick his feet against the granite to drive some of the pain out of them. Did he think about a girlfriend? Did he ponder the possibility of climbing down what he had led? Or envision himself coming off and having to jettison himself out away from those sharp spikes of rock pointing upward out of the belay ledge? Perhaps it was best not to think such things. Perhaps he did not and instead kept his thought focused above.
Chuck found the bong to be too small! His famous calm words: "Well this bong doesn't fit. Do you mind if I go ahead and lead upward?" It was said in soft Pratt-like style, as though if he fell his belayer would be the one to suffer. The difficulties inherent in a true climb provide a creative climber with ideas. Pratt, with his typical nonchalance, arrived at the top of this mangnum opus.
Pratt's technique was characterized by a marvelous economy of movement. Yet he must have experienced an eloquent chill when he arrived at the top. As unsafe as some say it is to climb unprotected, for a few individuals a climb inspires in them the necessary strength, and hidden powers to succeed with reasonable security. To climb in such a pure way, alone essentially, tends to destroy egotism, encourage care, awaken unknown abilities, and bring one in deep touch with the surroundings.
Today's best climbers who have repeated the Twilight Zone are often photographed placing large, high-tech, spring-loaded protection devices in the wide crack. They slide up their big "Friend," as they go, and keep almost a top-rope for the whole distance. They have chalk and good shoes, and all the protection they want. Yet even today, a lead of the climb now rated 5.10d, generally brings deep feelings of accomplishment. Pratt simply rated it 5.10 but it was certainly more difficult psychologically than any other 5.10 in Yosemite at the time.
In fact, Twilight Zone will never be repeated. It was a work of art and thus virtually impossible to duplicate. It was pioneered by a man the cracks of Yosemite were fundamentally unable to stop. The Twilight Zone was an odd quest of a private and brilliant soul. On a certain pitch, a particular climbing artist achieves his or her true form. We continue to see Pratt up there, in that crack, stoic, in tune with the relative solitude such a place affords, and true to the purest free ethic.
|
|
Ihateplastic
Trad climber
Lake Oswego, Oregon
|
|
|
May 22, 2009 - 12:21pm PT
|
A correction to Pat's recent posting... Pratt's article was, of course, on the South Face of Watkins (not Washington Column.)
|
|
Ihateplastic
Trad climber
Lake Oswego, Oregon
|
|
|
May 22, 2009 - 02:21pm PT
|
Here is the Article John Long wrote in Climbing May 2002. It belongs here...
Think I got it readable now after a few failed scans!
|
|
Jan
Mountain climber
Okinawa, Japan
|
|
|
May 22, 2009 - 03:23pm PT
|
I am humbled by all these wonderful glimpses of Chuck and by the writing talent in the climbing community. My appreciation to all those writers so much better than myself at conveying the essence of the man.
|
|
Doug Robinson
Trad climber
Santa Cruz
|
|
|
Topic Author's Reply - May 22, 2009 - 03:28pm PT
|
Thanks for posting that piece; I missed it the first time around.
By adroitly juggling unrelated scraps, Largo mirrors the magic of what Chuck at his best could do, an ordinary enough looking guy in a clearing in the forest doing things that actually turn out to be elusively tricky even with the best of focus and skill.
|
|
Ed Hartouni
Trad climber
Livermore, CA
|
|
|
May 22, 2009 - 09:06pm PT
|
I always loved that finish, John:
"...I imagine every Yosemite climber ever born huddled around a fire in El Cap meadow, in the great shadow of the Captain itself, and in the dead of night, as one by one we fade away, others will wander in to replace us..."
|
|
DrDeeg
Mountain climber
Mammoth Lakes, CA
|
|
|
May 22, 2009 - 09:51pm PT
|
I was fortunate to do a bunch of climbs with Charles Marshall Pratt in the summers of 1966 and 1967. They would often start with my realizing he was standing next to my sleeping bag, draped already with a rope and a rack, saying “Are you interested in ...?”
[This was about the time Beck started calling everyone by their middle names: Marshall, Arvid (Beck), Shannon (Robbins), Willard (Morton), T Charles (Gerughty), Charles (Dozier), Kirk (Thompson), and so on.]
One feature of his remarkable ability was that Chuck climbed at about the same speed regardless of the difficulty. Also, when a climb got its FFA, he often wanted to go do it, in a spirit to celebrate the achievement of the folks who did the FFA. In 1966, we did the East Buttress of Lower Cathedral, which Thompson and Fredericks had freed a year earlier. I was belaying him on the hard pitch, the one above the Fissure Beck; he was out of sight and the rope was steadily paying out.
Chuck’s voice came down, “I think I’m at the hard part.” The rope continued to slide through my hands with no perceptible change in pace. “Yep, that’s 5.10,” the voice said, and the rope continued at the same rate as he climbed through easy terrain to the belay.
J
|
|
Ed Hartouni
Trad climber
Livermore, CA
|
|
|
May 22, 2009 - 09:58pm PT
|
Pohono Pinnacle summit register:
|
|
bvb
Social climber
flagstaff arizona
|
|
|
May 22, 2009 - 10:47pm PT
|
what strikes me right now is the incredible wealth of truly transcendent writing that climbing -- and the people who do it -- has inspired.
|
|
Ed Hartouni
Trad climber
Livermore, CA
|
|
|
May 23, 2009 - 12:05am PT
|
from Climbing in North America by Chris Jones
p273
Among the newcomers were Berkeley residents Chuck Pratt and Steve Roper. Pratt had tremendous talent and quickly climbed at the top standards. He partnered with Harding on the final push on Washington Column...
In 1959 Pratt and Roper joined Bob Kamps in an attempt on the massive 2,000-foot north face of Middle Cathedral Rock. Fast on aid and skilled at free climbing, the newcomers completed the route in a rapid two and a half days (VI, 5.9, A4).
p277
Pratt was the natural successor to Powell. The route that haunted him was the Worst Error. From a swimming hole in the Merced River, he gazed up at this imposing crack on the side of Elephant Rock. Harding had used aid from a bolt, but he had to do it without. After his all-free ascent (5.9), he became obsessed by the two 400-foot cracks in an alcove just to the right. Unlike the big walls, where several climbers shared the physical and mental strain, everything here depended on just one person, the leader. He twice climbed up to the base of a shallow, overhanging jamcrack that is the final pitch of the left-handed crack, but both times his seconds were unable to follow. On his third attempt in the fall of 1961 he led Mort Hempel up the fearsome pitch. Crack of Doom was the first 5.10 in Yosemite.
p278
At high school and in society at large the key factor was "fitting in." At school organized sports were the thing, together with the car syndrome, and all that it stood for: drive-in movies, soda fountains, and "cruisin' Main." Almost without exception the Yosemite climbers rejected this version of life, and just as surely it rejected them. At a time when it was virtually unthinkable, many of them dropped out of school. Pratt's case was typical. A physics major at Berkeley, he detested mandatory ROTC with its uniforms and parades. When he changed out of his uniform one afternoon, all the frustrations of school life came to a head. To hell with it, he thought, I'm off to Tahquitz. He never looked back.
p291
Before Kor's onslaught got underway, Californians Kamps and Pratt made the second ascent of Spider Rock. According to Navajo legend its summit is littered with the bones of children the Spider Women devours. After an uneventful climb, Kamps and Pratt entered the town of Chinle, curious to see if they had caused at stir. At the ranger headquarters they learned that the Navajos were furious over the desecration. He should have known better, but on the way out of town Pratt stopped at the local trading post. It was full of Navajos. The conversation died away, and all eyes were fixed on him. The only sound was his quickening heartbeat. As he moved toward the door, a massive Indian loomed up out of the shadows and demanded:
"Did you climb Spider Rock?"
"Why yes," returned Pratt reaching for the door, "now that you mention it, I did," But worse was to come.
"What did you find on top?"
Every ear strained for the reply, His mind raced.
"We found a pile of bleached bones on the top."
The silence was absolute. He began to ease open the door. The huge Indian took a step toward him,
"What do you take me for--a fool?"
The room burst into uncontrolled laughter, and the humbled Pratt slid out the door.
The Californians attached a ritual importance to their cross-country trips. Beat writer and sometime mountain climber Jack Kerouac was one of their heros, his On The Road one of their favorite sagas.
Late one fall Chouinard took off from the East in a drive-away car. It was in bad shape, and he had spent all his money on gas and repairs when he reached Boulder. There he met Pratt, and with help from a borrowed credit card they coaxed the car into Albuquerque, New Mexico. Unknown to Choinard the car had been stolen and later recovered in New York. By the time he delivered it, he was a month late. The owner was furious and refused to pay his expenses.
Flat broke, Pratt and Chouinard started to hitch hike home. In Grants, New Mexico, they were picked up by high school kids joy-riding in their parents' car. The local police hauled the car over and were suspicious of the down-at-heel climbers. They were hauled off to jail for seventy-two hours while the police checked their fingerprints.
After their release they took a bus to a nearby town and tried to catch a ride. No one stopped, so they stole into the railroad yard. They spotted a car transporter headed west and made themselves comfortable in a pick-up truck playing the radio and laying low while the miles slipped by. In Winslow, Arizona, a security guard noticed the pick-up's steamed windows, and the luckless pair were again hauled off to jail. The judge offered them ten to thirty days if they pleaded guilty. If they pleaded not guilty, they would be charged with trespass and get six months. They served fifteen days. When Pratt arrived home, the sky had fallen. His army induction notice awaited him.
|
|
hobo_dan
Social climber
Minnesota
|
|
|
May 23, 2009 - 10:45am PT
|
I love reading this every day.
I have been thinking about time and life and how we spend ours.
So much of what I think is bogus is held dear by our society. And there is no quarter given in any arguments suggesting alternatives
"At high school and in society at large the key factor was "fitting in." At school organized sports were the thing, together with the car syndrome, and all that it stood for: drive-in movies, soda fountains, and "cruisin' Main." Almost without exception the Yosemite climbers rejected this version of life, and just as surely it rejected them. At a time when it was virtually unthinkable, many of them dropped out of school. Pratt's case was typical. A physics major at Berkeley, he detested mandatory ROTC with its uniforms and parades. When he changed out of his uniform one afternoon, all the frustrations of school life came to a head. To hell with it, he thought, I'm off to Tahquitz. He never looked back."
It's funny how sometimes life is seredipitous-maybe its always that way and I'm just too thick to get it.
And how is it that a group of mal-adjusted, ne'er do wells, on the fringe- whose reason for sharing with each other was because we like to climb on rocks-has so much insight?
|
|
oldguy
climber
Bronx, NY
|
|
|
May 23, 2009 - 01:45pm PT
|
So one day we were hanging out in Camp 4 in the dust of August, and a Winnebego pulls up down below. A woman hops out of the back with a yapping little dog. Pratt snaps. He grabs two slices of white bread from a loaf on the table and heads for the dog. One has to imagine Pratt, shirtless, a beard down to his nipples in a day when only climbers and beat poets had beards, and closing fast. The woman can't get Fifi back in the van quick enough and her husband spins rubber getting out of the campground.
Alas for the Pratt legend, it really was TM dropping the large rock on El Cid (I was there), and I never heard of Pratt repeating the stunt, although I'm sure he wanted to from time to time. Another bear not yet mentioned was Sedegrin (sp?), named after a former chief ranger in the Valley who had no sympathy for climbers or climbing.
And for the record, we (Royal, Chuck, and I) did N Face of Lower Cathedral Rock in 1960.
Thanks for all the stories, and hi Roger and Doug.
|
|
Jan
Mountain climber
Okinawa, Japan
|
|
|
May 23, 2009 - 02:23pm PT
|
I had forgotten how much Chuck hated little yappy dogs until I read the story above. Chihuahuas were always at the top of the list and any kind of small dog with a rhinestone collar made him absolutely apoplectic. I remember both he and Chinourd spent several sessions together dreaming up dreadful things to do to small dogs obviously done for melodramatic effect. In any case, Chuck did on several occasions threaten campers with killing and eating their obnoxious little dogs if they didn't get them under control. I think he threatened to throw a few to the bears as well.
|
|
Doug Robinson
Trad climber
Santa Cruz
|
|
|
Topic Author's Reply - May 23, 2009 - 03:16pm PT
|
Hi Joe,
One can imagine, without too much of a stretch, that Pratt's white-hot hatred of tiny dogs inspired that Indiana Jones line. "Dogs...why did it have to be yappy dogs?"
I liked seeing you in the lineup Guido posted.
I bet you have more. Tell us about Chuck leading the Gong Flake on the NF of Lower. Roper says,
"This provided no ordinary obstacle...Several hundred feet high, forty feet wide, and varying from three to ten feet in thickness, the gigantic flake seemed to vibrate when someone struck it with the heel of his hand. Yet the only route lay behind the flake, inside a claustrophobic chimney. Visions of roadkills flashed through the climbers' minds as they toiled up this slot; all three would be road pizza if the monster decided to choose June 3 to exfoliate."
Is that flake still hanging in there?
|
|
|
SuperTopo on the Web
|
Let us know!