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nature
climber
Tucson, AZ
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Mar 17, 2009 - 01:00am PT
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Double Cross
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Lynne Leichtfuss
Social climber
valley center, ca
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Mar 17, 2009 - 01:12am PT
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Yep, right on Nature, jess checked my guide book...FKFA Woody Stark, Dick Webster, Bill Briggs; 1967
One of the first climbs I ever did bitd. lrl
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Ferretlegger
Trad climber
san Jose, CA
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Mar 17, 2009 - 01:12am PT
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I never knew him, but I have climbed some of his routes. I don't know if this might cheer anyone up a bit, but when I have to deal with the loss of a friend this gives me a bit of a smile. Perhaps Woody would have liked it.
After Dark
Selected Writings by
Robert Service
The Ballad of Blasphemous Bill
I took a contract to bury the body of blasphemous Bill MacKie,
Whenever, wherever or whatsoever the manner of death he die --
Whether he die in the light o' day or under the peak-faced moon;
In cabin or dance-hall, camp or dive, mucklucks or patent shoon;
On velvet tundra or virgin peak, by glacier, drift or draw;
In muskeg hollow or canyon gloom, by avalanche, fang or claw;
By battle, murder or sudden wealth, by pestilence, hooch or lead --
I swore on the Book I would follow and look till I found my tombless dead.
For Bill was a dainty kind of cuss, and his mind was mighty sot
On a dinky patch with flowers and grass in a civilized boneyard lot.
And where he died or how he died, it didn't matter a damn
So long as he had a grave with frills and a tombstone "epigram."
So I promised him, and he paid the price in good cheechako coin
(Which the same I blowed in that very night down in the Tenderloin).
Then I painted a three-foot slab of pine: "Here lies poor Bill MacKie,"
And I hung it up on my cabin wall and waited for Bill to die.
Years passed away, and at last one day came a squaw with a story strange,
Of a long-deserted line of traps 'way back of the Bighorn range,
Of a little hut by the great divide, and a white man stiff and still,
Lying there by his lonesome self, and I figured it must be Bill.
So I thought of the contract I'd made with him, and I took down from the shelf
The swell black box with the silver plate he'd picked out for hisself;
And I packed it full of grub and "hooch," and I slung it on the sleigh;
Then I harnessed up my team of dogs and was off at dawn of day.
You know what it's like in the Yukon wild when it's sixty-nine below;
When the ice-worms wriggle their purple heads through the crust of the
pale blue snow;
When the pine trees crack like little guns in the silence of the wood,
And the icicles hang down like tusks under the parka hood;
When the stove-pipe smoke breaks sudden off, and the sky is weirdly lit,
And the careless feel of a bit of steel burns like a red-hot spit;
When the mercury is a frozen ball, and the frost-fiend stalks to kill --
Well, it was just like that that day when I set out to look for Bill.
Oh, the awful hush that seemed to crush me down on every hand,
As I blundered blind with a trail to find through that blank and bitter land;
Half dazed, half crazed in the winter wild, with its grim heartbraking woes,
And the ruthless strife for a grip on life that only the sourdough knows!
North by the compass, North I pressed; river and peak and plain
Passed like a dream I slept to lose and I waked to dream again.
River and plain and mighty peak -- and who could stand unawed?
As their summits blazed, he could stand undazed at the foot of the throne
of God.
North, aye, North, through a land accurst, shunned by the scouring brutes,
And all I heard was my own harsh word and the whine of the malamutes,
Till at last I came to a cabin squat, built in the side of a hill,
And I burst in the door, and there on the floor, frozen to death, lay Bill.
Ice, white ice, like a winding-sheet, sheathing each smoke-grimed wall;
Ice on the stove-pipe, ice on the bed, ice gleaming over all;
Sparkling ice on the dead man's chest, glittering ice in his hair,
Ice on his fingers, ice in his heart, ice in his glassy stare;
Hard as a log and trussed like a frog, with his arms and legs outspread.
I gazed at the coffin I'd brought for him, and I gazed at the gruesome dead,
And at last I spoke: "Bill liked his joke; but still, goldarn his eyes,
A man had ought to consider his mates in the way he goes and dies."
Have you ever stood in an Arctic hut in the shadow of the Pole,
With a little coffin six by three and a grief you can't control?
Have you ever sat by a frozen corpse that looks at you with a grin,
And that seems to say: "You may try all day, but you'll never jam me in?"
I'm not a man of the quitting kind, but I never felt so blue
As I sat there gazing at that stiff and studying what I'd do.
Then I rose and I kicked off the husky dogs that were nosing round about,
And I lit a roaring fire in the stove, and I started to thaw Bill out.
Well, I thawed and I thawed for thirteen days, but it didn't seem no good;
His arms and his legs stuck out like pegs, as if they were made of wood.
Till at last I said: "It ain't no use -- he's froze too hard to thaw;
He's obstinate, and he won't lie straight, so I guess I got to -- saw."
So I sawed off poor Bill's arms and legs, and I laid him snug and straight
In the little coffin he picked hisself, with the dinky silver plate,
And I came nigh near to shedding a tear as I nailed him safely down;
Then I stowed him away in my Yukon sleigh, and I started back to town.
So I buried him as the contract was in a narrow grave and deep,
And there he's waiting the Great Clean-up, when the the Judgment
sluice-heads sweep;
And I smoke my pipe and I meditate in the light of the Midnight Sun,
And sometimes I wonder if they was, the awful things I done.
And as I sit and the parson talks, expounding of the Law,
I often think of poor old Bill -- and how hard he was to saw.
My best wishes to his family and climbing partners.
Michael Jefferson
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Fletcher
Trad climber
here to eternity
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Mar 17, 2009 - 01:19am PT
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For Woody and those many kind and beloved souls gathered round him; no doubt he lived the spirit of these words through and through:
You Reading This, Be Ready
Starting here, what do you want to remember?
How sunlight creeps along a shining floor?
What scent of old wood hovers, what softened
sound from outside fills the air?
Will you ever bring a better gift for the world
than the breathing respect that you carry
wherever you go right now? Are you waiting
for time to show you some better thoughts?
When you turn around, starting here, lift this
new glimpse that you found; carry into evening
all that you want from this day. This interval you spent
reading or hearing this, keep it for life--
What can anyone give you greater than now,
starting here, right in this room, when you turn around?
William Stafford
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tokyo bill
Social climber
tokyo
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Mar 17, 2009 - 01:41am PT
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Just found this thread. Never met Woody, but even just knowing him through his posts here, I feel the loss. Sincere condolences to his family and friends. RIP, Woody.
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Indianclimber
Trad climber
Lost Wages
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Mar 17, 2009 - 01:44am PT
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What shocking news,condolences to his friends and family
Ed ,thanks for finding that wonderful piece of writing
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Mimi
climber
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Mar 17, 2009 - 01:45am PT
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So sad right now. Total stunner. Always enjoyed reading what Woody had to say and his sharp sense of humor. He died with his boots on and that's how he wanted it to be, except that it was too damned soon. God bless you, Woody.
Huge condolences to his family and all of his friends.
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mojede
Trad climber
Butte, America
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Mar 17, 2009 - 01:46am PT
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Gonna miss ya roun' here, WoodySt--RIP fine sir...
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crusher
climber
Santa Monica, CA
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Mar 17, 2009 - 02:07am PT
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This is so sad. I never got to meet Woody but enjoyed his postings.
Do not stand by my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awake in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight
I am the soft-star that shines at night.
Do not stand by my grave and cry,
I am not there, I did not die.
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Dirka
Trad climber
SF
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Mar 17, 2009 - 02:27am PT
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RIP. Many blessings to friends and family.
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Dudeman
Trad climber
California/Idaho/Beyond
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Mar 17, 2009 - 02:32am PT
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So sad. What a heavy day.
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Todd Gordon
Trad climber
Joshua Tree, Cal
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Mar 17, 2009 - 02:44am PT
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A very very very sad day for the climbing world.
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schwortz
Social climber
davis, ca
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Mar 17, 2009 - 02:45am PT
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sad news. RIP.
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Todd Gordon
Trad climber
Joshua Tree, Cal
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Mar 17, 2009 - 03:01am PT
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Woody belaying Tucker Tech up in the San Bernardino Mtns.
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Anastasia
climber
Not here
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Mar 17, 2009 - 03:03am PT
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I spent the whole day in denial, now after a call from Cosmic and arriving home... All I can think about is how much of a great tragedy this is. Tears and beer for me tonight. Love to the gang, I will be coming up A.S.A.P.
AF
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Todd Gordon
Trad climber
Joshua Tree, Cal
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Mar 17, 2009 - 03:04am PT
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Todd Gordon
Trad climber
Joshua Tree, Cal
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Mar 17, 2009 - 03:08am PT
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woody Crotch shot....
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Todd Gordon
Trad climber
Joshua Tree, Cal
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Mar 17, 2009 - 03:11am PT
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Besides the famous Double Cross, and the other campground Desert Rats classic pioneered routes, Woody has been busy doing all sorts of new routes;....most of which are more or less undocumented. I had the awesome pleasure of joining Woody on these first ascents at Joshua Tree.....these climbs will probably someday find their way into a guidebook;...go do them, most are excellent......all these climbs are a fine tribute to Woody...... a great man, a great climber, and a great climbing partner.....
Proper B T (Bitch Training) 5.10b
Urdu 5.9
Nic Traverse 5.8
Dig for Fire 5.8
Monkey Gone to Heaven 5.8
Broke Back Burke 5.8
I'm not a Doctor, but I'll Take a Look 5.7
Southern Cornbread 5.8
Fried Okra 5.8
Man Boobs 5.9
Chubs 5.7
Tart and Tiny 5.7
Woody's Whirlpool Bath 5.10
Mortal Thoughts 5.10c
I have info on all of these climbs;.....if you are interested, contact me....
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Forest
Trad climber
Tucson, AZ
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Mar 17, 2009 - 03:12am PT
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Wow. So sorry to hear this. Rest in peace, Woody!
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S.Powers
Social climber
Jtree, now in Alaska
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Mar 17, 2009 - 06:31am PT
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I believe the name of the route that Mr.Stark is on in the above photos is called "Srepoper has a roid" an excellent day spent with Mr.Cosmic, Mr.Locker (almost typed his real last name) Mr.Stark and myself. Maybe I have the days messed up but I believe that is the day of the FA.
If it is not the same day, I'm happy to know that woody was having a good time on a route with my name(kind of) in the name of it; Only because I know I enjoyed myself as much or maybe even more on the routes he pioneered in Joshua Tree.
I wish sometimes, to go back to the times that were simple; before I realized that people die, and that's the end. I wish that when I realized people died, I was more spiritual. I wish I could have been in JT when this happened so I could offer more support. I wish we didn't die.
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