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Chiloe
Trad climber
Lee, NH
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Nov 22, 2006 - 01:14pm PT
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I got my life saved once, by a heli evac near Mt. Whitney while I was unconcious with HAPE. The result of gaining 12,600 feet in 6 hours or so, before I'd ever heard of HAPE.
Less dramatically, the first time I climbed the regular route on Fairview, we got passed by two simulclimbers who just shot on by. Annoyed, I went right after them, not thinking about the fact that they'd done this many times and were finding their own variations. My tunnel vision ended rudely just 10 feet short of the summit, with a ropelength of zero pro below me and a move I didn't want to try right above. After some hesitation, growing fear overcame my pride and I called up to ask the hotdogs for a toprope. Which they very kindly supplied.
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Ed Bannister
Mountain climber
Victorville, CA
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Nov 22, 2006 - 01:16pm PT
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Never was "rescued," but backed off quite a few when i thought it was called for, if anything i erred in that direction. There was the 3'piece of talus over the ankle in the north gully at Tahquitz, hobbled out an hour and a half later.
I was rescued by Tom Frost in a different way, he was a true friend through my own dark and sad times many years ago. He is not just a good man, his bright and positive outlook, and his neverending kindness rival all the rest of what he has done.
Ed
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Tarbuster
climber
right here, right now
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Nov 22, 2006 - 02:19pm PT
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My wife rescues me pretty much every day.
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imnotclever
climber
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Nov 22, 2006 - 02:19pm PT
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Not relly a rescue.
Left the guide book in the car. Was it 4 pitches and the traverse or 5 pitches then traverse. So when we got to the 4th belay it looked like you could traverse, but going up looked fine too. There was a group below us, so we just waited for 2 hours to see what they knew. They had a book and up it was.
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Melissa
Gym climber
berkeley, ca
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Nov 22, 2006 - 02:21pm PT
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You bring the whole book?
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Tarbuster
climber
right here, right now
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Nov 22, 2006 - 02:29pm PT
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I have a Boulder Climbs South book,
Nearly every page has been tore out, folded up for back pocket use and returned to the book. What a mess.
I rescued it with a clean copy setting right next to the "working copy".
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Chiloe
Trad climber
Lee, NH
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Nov 22, 2006 - 02:32pm PT
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I often try to memorize the guidebook's route description and diagram before leaving the car. That way it's weightless. The funny part is how often I've forgotten to memorize the descent description, too.
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Scoopy
Big Wall climber
Both feet on the ground
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Nov 22, 2006 - 02:40pm PT
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Last December my husband and I returned home from Vegas (ran the marathon) and arrived at our little airport to 10 degree and snowing weather. We were not dresses for the cold. We threw the bags in the car, started her up, and got outside to scrape the windows. I made for the bushes to relieve myself, when I returned to get in the car, my husband still scraping all doors were locked, car running, no one, in plain site. At least the radio was blasting loud enough to hear from outside.
Headed inside, called AAA, can't come for a couple hours. Live too far to hitch a ride and return w/ spare keys. Out of nowhere, this old codger appears with some sort of "slim jim' apparatus and asks us if we mind if he could give it a try. Luckily for my husband (who was in the dog house for this mess) he was but minutes unlocking the door. We offered the guy $20.00 but he wouldn't take it. We figured he already had his pockets filled from breaking into all the other cars!
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Jello
Social climber
No Ut
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Topic Author's Reply - Nov 22, 2006 - 02:43pm PT
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Hey, Warbler, why did Mike put the hurt on you? Was it in fun, or was he being an #sshole? I never fought with Mike as a kid, because he was five years older, four inches taller and thirty pounds heavier than me. Greg and Mike and George all had pretty regular clashes on "fun" family climbs together, however, and I developed a habit early on of avoiding climbing with any more than one brother or cousin at a time. Calmer that way, as I tended to get along with all of them pretty well...well...someday I'll tell you about Greg's and my last fistfight, when I was 16, he was 17, and I got in a good first punch - and then Greg proceeded to mop the floor with me for the next half-hour. Cured me of the urge to fight, that experience did.
I'm afraid with this post I may have removed some rose-colored lenses from the eyes of those who may have come to think that the Lowe family was one cohesive loving bunch. Well, it's true that I did and do love all my extended family, but it would be more accurate to think "Adams Family on 'roids", than "Brady Bunch", when imaginning daily life in the 1960's Lowe household.
-JelloTheMiddleLowe
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Melissa
Gym climber
berkeley, ca
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Nov 22, 2006 - 03:00pm PT
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Scoopy...Your story reminds of this time I locked the keys in the truck in a bad part of Oakland.
First I called AAA, but since it was going to take them a while to get there, I decided to see what I could do on my own.
I had a huge length of thick wire in the back of the truck, and since the window was down I tried to will the lock buttons up with the wire. This didn't work, but I kept trying.
A huge fire truck with...I'm not joking...close to 20 young new fire dept. recruits (Imagine if this happened to one of the Desperate Housewives...They looked like THAT!) cranks a U-ey into the Home Depot parking lot with cries of "Woman in Distress!!!" over the bullhorn. It turns out the guys were on their way back from some training session with a couple of hours to kill before going to shake hands at various neighborhood watch bar-b-q's planned for that night and their boss/trainer thought this was a good learning opportunity. They worked my truck over a bit figuring out how to use the door pick kit, but whatever...
Remember, we're in a rough neighborhood here. So, in addition to a whole hapless fire dept. swarming my truck, all sort of folks roaming the street keep coming and offering suggestions for how to more effectively break into my truck. The boss would shoe them away, and more would come.
Finally, my boyfriend with the spare key and AAA show up just as the fire dept. has finished working their magic. It could have been a sitcom.
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imnotclever
climber
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Nov 22, 2006 - 03:02pm PT
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Melissa,
It's a small book. And I thought I had it memorized for our route. Oh, plus there was a newbie factor.
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Scoopy
Big Wall climber
Both feet on the ground
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Nov 22, 2006 - 03:08pm PT
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Melissa, that is hilarious. My husband and I have a joke where I slip off my wedding ring and hand it to him when cute guys a around. That group of rescuers would have been perfect!
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Fry Guy
Trad climber
Bondale, CO
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Nov 22, 2006 - 03:19pm PT
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Great stories all!
Rescue. It still haunts me everytime I rope up. It was a few years ago when my partner and I headed to the Ruth Gorge in Alaska. Big plans for a big trip. We promply got planted on the Ruth and set about getting oriented on the first day. Day to and we were on to our first objective, Shaken Not Stirred, our warm up for the "big one", a firsty that we scoped on day one. The story has been told too many times already so I'll make it short. We leave camp at 3:00am and head up the valley to SNS. Get on the route. Climb the route. Top out around dusk and start back down the 14 or so raps. As were nearing the bottom the fatique starts to set in and we're working on autopilot. I rap down to what should be the second to last rappel before we get over the bergshrund. I clip into a slung horn and bounce test it. It seems a little sketchy but hey everyone else rapped it so it should be alright. No backup. Could have gone back up the rope 20 feet and set a good anchor but I'm tired and need to get back to camp. Clip and go. Partner comes down and clips in. It's now 2:00am and I start rapping in the dark. Partner yells "Oh Shit" and I feel myself fall backwards. We slide a couple hundred feet down the couloir and I feel my ankle snap as I bounce off a rock and launch into the air for what seems an eternity. Another 200ft of air over a rock face and I touch down just past the berg and slide for another 500-600ft before coming to a halt and realizing that I'm still alive but that for some reason my left foot is turned around backwards. End of trip! My partner comes to a stop 40ft above me unscathed except for a bruised knee.
Rescue time! Partner hikes up the valley to a camp we'd spotted up in the basin below Ham and Eggs. As I sit and shiver a light approaches followed closely by 3 others. Four kind souls showed up to load me on a sled and literally haul me for the next four hours up to their camp. That morning, 3 days into our trip, I was loaded onto a plane out of there.
I never did get to really thank those guys but everyone was so helpfull. I'll alway be greatful.
I hope to never be rescued again and I always back up my anchors now. Trouble is I now know what it feels like to have the rope drop me and I think about it everytime I lean back. Recovery in progress. Result was a broken fibula and a year of recovery. Good as new now and ready to go back to the AK! Still got the sick firsty to tackle. No one's snaked it yet!
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Tarbuster
climber
right here, right now
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Nov 22, 2006 - 03:36pm PT
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Jello Wrote:
"I'm afraid with this post I may have removed some rose-colored lenses from the eyes of those who may have come to think that the Lowe family was one cohesive loving bunch".
That's pretty good thread drift Jeff.
I'd say sibling rivalry is the rule, not the exception, especially with boys and jousting is standard fare.
AKDog, who posts up occasionaly, was my boyhood pal and pretty much a brother, as our mothers met in the maternity ward and we were born 3 days apart.
After that, we were together most of our lives up until our mid teens; nursery school, elementary school, backpacking trips, and we started climbing together at age 13.
Doug was always beatin' up on me from the start. One day, when we were about age 2, I was fed up, grabbed a plastic toy hammer and nailed him with it while he was in his crib.
Age 12, I was pounding on him with all my might and he just laughed through it until I wore out. Shoot, on our first Sierran ice climbing trip for our sixteenth birthdays, I still weighed in at only 115.
We didn't climb much together in our 20's; ha, I think we needed a break from each other. Climbing seemed itself to be a rescue of sorts. We always wanted to be cowboys, but made do with the crags.
Doug visited last week:
(No fights...)
There's more to that story on this thread, mixed in with other shenanigans:
http://www.supertopo.com/climbing/thread.html?topic_id=277698&tn=40
Fry Guy:
Next time you reference that climb we hope it will be posted as a TR!
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Scared Silly
Trad climber
UT
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Nov 22, 2006 - 04:45pm PT
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I did not need the rescue but my partner did so I got to come along for the ride...
Lets see early 90s. Couple boys on the east butt of Denali. Mid morning at 12k, sun is out, blue sky, nice day to be on the hill. A crack from above, ah shiiit, serac fall from 14k. No where to hide. I run up to a small break from a crevase, plant my ice axe in for all it is worth. My partner, Bob is out in the open and just hits the deck. I look up just as the barage of ice comes down on me. Fuuck, we are going to go for a ride. I wait for the rope to jerk me from my stance, it never comes. A minute latter it is over, I release my death grip on my axe. Other than a few nasty bumps from being whack with bowling ball sized ice chunks I am okay. I look around, no Bob. I yell, nothing. I start following the rope. It leads to creavase that is gapping open. I see the rope buried in the rubble on a shelf 40' down, but no Bob. Damn not again, my friend Mugs had just died this way two weeks before buried in a crevase. I figured Bob had suffer the same fate.
Not expecting a reply I yelled in the crevase for Bob again. But there is his voice coming up from the bowels of the crevase. Fuuck, he is alive and I have to get him out of there. I start organizing the rope but because it partially buried I rap down on the shelf and start digging it up. It is too buried so I cut what I can get and lower it down to Bob. It reaches. He clips his pack into the rope and I quickly haul it up. Then I start hauling Bob up. The crevase was about 70-80 degrees on the down hill side so Bob is able to get his crampons and axe to bite so I am not doing it all on my own. Slowly Bob emerges from the darkness.
Finally he is out of the creavase, I give him a big hug. But he is bloodied and bruised with cuts and contusions everywhere. Looking at him wants to make me puke but I can not let him know how bad he looks. He is pretty ringy-dingy but still has about 50% of his wits about himself and can kind of walk. So we short rope down the hill to where a safe spot is. Just as we arrive at the safe spot Bob collapses into the snow. He is done, he has used what energy he has left to get himself there. I hauled Bob's pack with me so I get him into his sleeping bag and comfortable. Now it time to go back up on the slope and get my pack which has a radio in it and the rest of our gear which was in a drag bag.
As I set out I told Bob that I hoped to be back in an hour. Or really back period as there was no telling how safe the slope was not to mention the numerous crevases crossings. Other than having our drag bag go into a crevase on the way back the gear recovery was smooth - most of all we now had the radio. From our position I was able to radio truckers out on the highway between Anchorage and Fairbanks who then relayed our message to the NPS that we had a small problem. Soon the NPS had plane in the air and was clearing radio traffic. I knew that we needed a rescue cause Bob was in shock and there was no way I was going to be able to get him down the hill without endangering each other further.
Time for the Lama. After the pilot Jim Ford figured out our location, he decided that landing was not possible and he was going to short haul off the hill. He came in with two harness clipped off to a haul line hanging from under the Lama which I managed to snag without falling from our safe spot. When I noticed the harnesses were really called Screamer Suits I thought damn right I going scream like a girl when they haul my ass off into the air. After getting the suits on were were told to gather up our cameras and wallets as everything else was going to be left behind. I argued for them to drop a ranger in and just haul Bob out as we could get the gear out and down the glacier below in a matter of hours. No dice ... so I grabbed my ice axe, camera, and a pair mittens that I had had fo many years and we left everything else.
The lama came in, I was scared silly, Bob was puking in the snow. I clipped the line into Bob then into myself and said "GO". The lama lifted us off the deck and into the air. We slowly spun around. Then everything was clam and I relaxed. I started looking around, the view was great so I got on the radio and said "Hey we have got one hell of a view down here." Laugh came back over the radio. A few minutes later we were lowered onto the glacier. They put Bob inside the Lama and flew him off to the Mountain House and then fix winged him to the hospital in Anchorage.
Postscript. Bob was approximately 100' above the crevase when the serac fall occured. He was swept into the crevase and onto the first shelf where the rope was buried. He realized that if he stayed on the shelf he was going to be buried alive and need to get off the shelf. His only option was to drop farther into crevase and hope that I could hold him suspended in the crevase while the debris went past him. It worked as he rolled off the shelf the rope tighten up and swung him under the shelf he was on, protecting him from the barrage of debris. That is some amazing thinking given the circumstances.
Bob was a bloddy damn mess with cuts, contusions, requiring many stiches along with a concussion and severe bruising. As he said he look like he had been a bar fight and lost. About a week later we got all of our gear back after we hired two guys to retrive it for us. A few years latter, Bob later went back to Denali and humped his way up the West Buttress before being turned around at 16,500.
Finally, this was one of many rescues that the NPS performed that year and was the first short haul rescue that the NPS had ever performed on Denali. The lama pilot, Jim Ford said that they were able to do the short haul because they felt that we had done a great job in doing as much of a self rescue as possible and getting ourselves into stable and safe postion to perform the haul. Normally, they drop a ranger in but do like to do that because of the danger that it puts them in.
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Roger Breedlove
climber
Cleveland Heights, Ohio
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Nov 22, 2006 - 05:06pm PT
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I have mostly tried to stay out of trouble and only have one real rescue tale to tell. But it was such a public humiliation that it cured me of any desire to get strung out without a rope.
RockCraft was organized as a week long adventure and for a few years it was held in Southern Yosemite. Royal found these giant boulder-like cliffs that were perfect for teaching. The first time I went there was with the entire RockCraft group--all the clients and all the guides. I was enthralled. I rounded a corner, came out of the trees and was standing in front of the some of the prettiest rock anywhere. Beautifully colored, steep, nice holds. A paradise.
“This must be climbed. Now.” the voice says.
No calculations were necessary. No thoughts intruded.
I slip into my shoes and start up. What a glorious find.
Then the nice holds are just colored rock. I cannot figure out how to reverse. No calculations were employed.
What a glorious blunder. Calculations for further progress are worthless.
The clients are gathering below. Royal is looking a little stern.
"Fake it," I say to myself.
“Holy f*#king sh#t. Strung out on unclimbed rock in front of the clients.”
"Fake it, man." the inner voice says.
"You are peeling, as#@&%e, and you want to fake it????" the other shoulder says.
A savoir, a fellow guide (Pratt or Erb), drops a rope. I convert the pulsations of my sewing machine body into grasping the rope.
Secure, I run the rope around my waist and deftly tie a one-hand-bowline. Fakery returns.
Thin gruel.
Chastened.
Forever.
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fareastclimber
Big Wall climber
Hong Kong & Wales
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Nov 22, 2006 - 07:59pm PT
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Almost, only because some non-climbers (hikers) thought we were in trouble as we started a route (6 pitches or so) in the dark and began the descent (rappel) which took a long time as we were trying to re-equip the stations (natural anchors) and erratic weather came in (gale force winds, half inch hail and our gear and ropes freezing) but we were fine and having a blast. They didn't make a rescue as we still had not passed their 2 hour wait time but were there at the car park to see us come in. Good times! Funnily (?) enough, 2 days later a pair had to be rescued from the same area as they were poorly equipped (no headlamps or bivvy/belay jackets and became seriously cold and disoriented - apparently).
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Jello
Social climber
No Ut
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Topic Author's Reply - Nov 22, 2006 - 08:02pm PT
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I knew there would be some good stuff to come out of this. Thank you all for sharing.
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scuffy b
climber
The town that Nature forgot to hate
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Nov 22, 2006 - 08:26pm PT
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My first encounter with the Warbler was remotely like a rescue.
I had led the Waterchute in Joshua Tree. My partner couldn't
follow it. I was advised to pull up the rope and wait.
The Warbler appeared, leading the crack (or was he soloing?)
but with my gear on him, having cleaned my lead while doing his
own thing.
Of course, he couldn't remember this a year later, so he should
feel free to say it never happened. He must have showed me the
way down.
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scuffy b
climber
The town that Nature forgot to hate
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Nov 22, 2006 - 08:47pm PT
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I heard about the flying double armlock but never saw it.
He soloed the climb shortly before I led it. It was obviously
familiar to him. However, he was wearing a Very bulky sweater
and got really surprised by how much his armlocks were slipping
in the chute itself. He got really quiet while he was climbing,
and really really really talkative after he reached the top.
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