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this just in
climber
north fork
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Dec 17, 2013 - 01:23pm PT
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Post five more pics to your above post if you want to keep that ratio up. Actually five and a quarter pics.
Well played.
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mike m
Trad climber
black hills
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Topic Author's Reply - Dec 17, 2013 - 01:32pm PT
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Who's to say high numbers are best. Still collecting data the research hasn't been done yet.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Dec 17, 2013 - 01:33pm PT
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12.9-ish, but I'm resigning, un-like Cardoza, if I don't get some cookies in the mail soon.
Why aren't OP's important to this question?
I think it's time for a new thread proliferation bitch thread.
Why this question, anyway? Is this to see if post numbers should be lowered based on some silly statistic that doesn't mean dick? I mean sh#t?
That we should be f*#king LIMITED!!!!!!!!!!!!???????????????
Just kidding, it's interesting.
Whatever the ramifications.
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L
climber
California dreamin' on the farside of the world..
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Dec 17, 2013 - 10:05pm PT
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For MikeM and RyanD: Just uppin' the ratio, boyz!
Garbage Can Peak
My friends and I had been talking about doing Garbage Can Peak for almost two decades. But every time the time was right for me, the time was wrong for all of them. And the excuses just got more ludicrous as time went by (root canals, weddings, divorces, pedicures, you get the idea). Until finally one day recently, “The heck with them,” I thought, “I’ll solo the thing!”
You’ve probably heard of Garbage Can Peak. Also known as The Widow Maker. It’s located in the Hudson River Valley some 40 miles northwest of New York City. It’s a burly peak with a deadly approach and an even deadlier walk-off. A mountain that’s claimed more lives than the bus rides through Denali.
But what the hell…I wasn’t getting any younger and if life wasn’t an adventure, life turned into a dribbling daytime soap full of posts by Jludes and Nemesis and Zinger. I went to the closet and started laying out my gear.
Arctic Antifreeze gloves by Seirus. I’d used these puppies to outride frostbite on the chilly slopes of the Santa Monica mountains on many a summer’s morn.
Keen Mountain Berm boots. Notice the height of the boot and calf-hugging fine leather (for avalanche conditions in Los Angeles).
Notice the side zipper that keeps you from lacing and lacing and pulling your hair out and lacing and etc…
Notice the enormous toebox and lug soles that make your feet look twice their size, like Alley Oop.
Black cashmere scarf with black cat hair (you’d be surprised how warm the addition of cat hair is).
Lola Down Parka. Kept me toasty during my trip to Joshua Tree one December.
Lola Down Parka with Black Cat. Warmest thing on the planet…if you can only get it on.
Maui Jim shades. Made for the tropics, but stellar for shielding eyes from NY snow blindness.
My gear was finally assembled. With an eager hand, I zipped up my parka
pulled on my gloves, wrapped up my neck, zipped up my boots, took my boots off, put on my jeans, took my parka off, put on my sweater, put my parka back on, pulled my boots back on, placed my shades on my eyes with a jaunty tilt, and snapped this pre-climb shot. Man, was I stoked!
I stepped into the garage and looked at the approach to Garbage Can Peak. My Laird 12.1 SUP, like a worn memento of some forgotten age, pointed the direction.
There was the base of the route. There lay the beginning of the heinous first pitch. I shuttered.
Gingerly, I placed one Keen’s Mountainwoman Bermbuster boot in the hardpack, balanced myself, and found a solid stance from which to look around.
The scenery was breathtaking. The first pitch ambled along the driveway to snowy bushes and chunks of granite buried in white frozen froth.
Looking to my left, I saw an extension of Garbage Can Peak that might one day be attempted—but not today.
Today my focus was on one thing and one thing only:
See that tiny black dot waaaaaaay down that berm-covered snowfield? That unreachable dot is it: Garbage Can Peak. That was my goal today. My only goal. To reach it…and return. Alive. I moved from the base and stepped into the abyss.
Driving snow pelted my face and started to freeze on my Seirac gloves.
I took another (possibly final) happy photo, this time of my teeth chattering and lips turning blue. It was cold as hell out and my camera finger was beginning to freeze, too.
I started down the steep icefield, inching my way along the first pitch.
Snow piled high in berms threatened to conceal my route; I kept my eyes peeled for the myriad of dangers I knew were accompanying my descent.
The first crux: if I missed the bend at the top of the drive, I’d careen into a giant split oak and knock myself out, fall into the snow and freeze to death. This was dicey. I moved verrrrrrry slowly.
Made it past the tree-chute but now faced the second pitch and the major crux of the entire route: a hairpin turn on a 35 degree slope on snow-covered black ice. Lots of cars had failed this delicate move and found a home in the bog below. If I missed the turn, I fall into the snow and freeze to death. I placed each boot ever so gently…
Eyeing the carnivorous berms as I stepped by them, I knew that if I got stuck in one I'd fall over in the snow and freeze to death.
A quick glance at the peak gave me a breath of hope
and I snapped another photo just to document the way my lips had frozen to my teeth and I couldn't stop smiling even though this was hideous and I was terrified and freezing to death
and then I started to slide sideways, out of control!
Luckily, I self-arrested on the Belgium Blocks hidden beneath the snow, reoriented myself, and pushed on towards the summit.
The final pitch was a strenuous cross-over from the right side of the drive to the left…a sketchy, balancy tapdance…
that landed me right at the summit! Would you look at those slopers!
Success! Garbage Can Peak was mine! I took a quick peek inside, and cursed the garbagemen who never seemed able to get that final piece of trash out of the can. Buggers.
The summit victory celebration was over, but the dreaded return still remained! It looked a looooooooooooong way back up there. I was cold. I was tired. The light was beginning to fade...god I hoped I could back it back before dark!
I stared at all those slipping sliding footsteps leading to where I now stood.
My stomach got that queasy feeling. Fear. Pure and simple: fear. But there was no way around it…I had to go back up. I put the lid on the can and made my best gear placement of the day.
I could see the path I’d have to follow…my footprints stood out like bloody holes in the snow.
It was a loooooooooooooooooong way up there…did I already say that?
Trusting my gear, I put my head down, dug my Mountainwoman boots into the snowpack, and heaved with all my might. The can moved. I stumbled forward, and heaved harder. Thus it was that me and that monster garbage can fought our way back up the snowfield-black-ice driveway, panting and cursing the whole time…until, bloody, worn and frozen, we reached the top of the second pitch.
I could see the end of the route. I looked back at the way I’d come, my footprints and that thing’s wheels cutting deep grooves in the snow.
It was a long way. Longer than I’d ever dreamed, and harder than I ever suspected. I stood there panting and sweating. The monster just sat there…patiently…waiting for me to give up.
And I almost did. I almost quit. I didn’t have what it took. I was a pansy. A poser. A citified weekend warrior who couldn’t handle the hard stuff. I felt my shoulders sagging, my grip loosening and my back bending. I was done. Beat. Garbage Can Peak had won…
And then I looked up at the trees. And the thought came to me: “What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger.” Leafless and barren against the snowy gray sky, the trees had a way of dealing with the harshness of winter. They looked dead…but they weren’t. And that thought made me look at the garbage can in a completely different way.
It looked a little forlorn now, sitting there getting buried in snow halfway up the drive. It didn’t look intimidating at all. I glanced at the front yard, not 20 feet away.
And then I did something I never thought I could do: I switched my pro from the right hand (my strong hand) to the left.
Suddenly I was filled with fire and energy and laughter! I dragged that giant garbage can across the last bit of snow-covered driveway to the opening of the garage with what felt like the strength of 10 women, plus 2!
Garbage Can Peak hadn’t killed me! I placed a foot on the dry garage floor.
It had only made me stronger!
I parked the snowy Monster in his home in the garage
and placed a foot atop my partner in keeping life a walk on the wild side.
Garbage Can Peak. I summited, and I survived. Wouldn’t want to do it again too soon. Maybe next week…maybe not. Right now a hot mug of soup and a leather sofa were calling my name. I’ll think about my next life-threatening adventure tomorrow. Maybe getting the mail...
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L
climber
California dreamin' on the farside of the world..
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Dec 17, 2013 - 10:17pm PT
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Woohoo! Can't wait!
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Ghost
climber
A long way from where I started
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Dec 17, 2013 - 10:29pm PT
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L-zilla, Queen of the Snow!
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Jaybro
Social climber
Wolf City, Wyoming
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Dec 17, 2013 - 10:31pm PT
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What an Epic! You were so, channeling Lara from Dr Zhivago!
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Fritz
Trad climber
Choss Creek, ID
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Dec 17, 2013 - 10:32pm PT
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L!!
Thank you for humoring us with your dangerous, & spine-tingling journey.
I appreciated the story & photos, since I make a similar weekly journey and have suffered grief on my own epic, on more than one occasion.
I toast with my first Tom & Jerry holiday drink I've enjoyed in many a year. A little mix, a little rum, and a lot of nutmeg in my old ski-team mug.
Best Wishes to all for the Solstice!
Oh!! my ratio. Gotta be high, but below Mouse's, Survival's, & DMT's.
Photos are the key to making ST posts fun!
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L
climber
California dreamin' on the farside of the world..
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Dec 17, 2013 - 10:33pm PT
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But mine was faux fur, Jay. Faux fur. ;-)
Cheers Fritz! Yum!
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Dec 17, 2013 - 10:36pm PT
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L,
That was so Fritz! You got it. Cold.
Did you not find the summit register?
That hand-switch was awesome!
Lynne, you likely know that in England a "linn" is the same as our "beach."
So, everybody, PLEASE spell the lady's name with care.
--A gentleman climber
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujo de La Playa
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Dec 17, 2013 - 10:37pm PT
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I have never heard of such a thing, so of course I looked it up.
STRATIO
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ALTERNATIVELY:
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AND/OR:
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L
climber
California dreamin' on the farside of the world..
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Dec 17, 2013 - 10:41pm PT
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LOL Mouse! Dicey stuff, those hand-switches.
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujo de La Playa
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Dec 17, 2013 - 10:45pm PT
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Trad is Rad
Trad climber
San Luis Obispo California
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Dec 17, 2013 - 10:47pm PT
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The calculation of those numbers would calculate to determine amount of spraying being done.
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drljefe
climber
El Presidio San Augustin del Tucson
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Dec 17, 2013 - 10:53pm PT
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I have nothing to prove.
Here's a pic!
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Dec 17, 2013 - 10:55pm PT
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Can you prove it's you in the picture? Though you did not say it was you in the picture it is implied, silly billy goat.
Good ratio, as in HDLs
TRs x Photos posted / Positive posts
Bad ratio, as in LDLs
TRs x Photos posted / Negative (spraying) posts
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Lynne Leichtfuss
Sport climber
moving thru
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Dec 17, 2013 - 10:55pm PT
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L, you are amazing! Wonderful, wonderful picture story. Great to have you back! Happy Holidays and Cheers, lynnie.
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Big Mike
Trad climber
BC
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Dec 17, 2013 - 11:04pm PT
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Very nice L! Thanks! What a mission!! ;)
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mike m
Trad climber
black hills
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Topic Author's Reply - Dec 17, 2013 - 11:08pm PT
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drljefe, lets not make light of a some serious research. Many highly regarded universities will be in major competition for this data.
L, two observations on that awesome TR. You have the cleanest can I have seen a while and you should probably find some crampons for those boots if you are taking on such a serious climb.
zbrown you are obviously going for a Phst
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drljefe
climber
El Presidio San Augustin del Tucson
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Dec 17, 2013 - 11:15pm PT
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I have heaps of tr's but none of them are in the tr tab.
I never migrated them and would rather have them on the board.
Plus I hate(strong word) scrolling through a zillion posts and photos on one single page.
(Ahem survival).
I'm never duking it out on political or religious threads, and I'm mostly a drive by poster on ot threads.
I guess I did have something to prove.
Here's a pic!
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