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yanqui
climber
Balcarce, Argentina
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Nov 23, 2016 - 07:53am PT
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I guess the scariest happy ending I ever experienced took place at Peshastin Pinnacles in, maybe, 1980. We were watching a couple a guys climb a route (looking in Mountain Project I'm pretty sure it's called Vertigo) that at the time was rated 5.7, but I remember it was pretty challenging for the grade. The first thirty feet or forty feet involved a steep sandstone face, protected with stoppers, to a juggy block that finished with a mantle. Above that was an easy scramble to the top.
Anyways, the guy who was belaying was sitting way too far back from the cliff, maybe 15 feet or more, so when the leader made a sudden lunge for the block at the top, the rope pulled taunt and zippered out every single piece of protection. The freed stoppers slid gently down the rope to the belayer. Although only about 35 feet up, the landing zone below was a steep jumble of big, sharp angular blocks. The kind of blocks that could literally cut you in half from that height.
So now, the leader was hanging from that big block, facing that mantle move without any protection at all, and not taking his situation very well. He began to whimper loudly. With feet scraping wildly, he made a gasping attempt at the mantle. It seemed he paused for an eternity at that equilibrium point in a mantle that happens just before you get your weight over your arms and have things under control. But suddenly the tension in his body collapsed and he dropped back down to hang straight from his arms, on the jugs.
What do you do when you're watching something like this? If you try to intervene you might just get the guy killed. It was clear the guy was pumped and gripped out of his head and didn't have much time before he'd completely give out. Do you cover you eyes, or turn and walk away? We didn't want to see anyone die but we just stood there and watched, in horrified fascination.
So anyways, the guy makes another desperate attempt at the mantle and fails. And then another (if I remeber well). He seemed to be looking weaker and more hysterical each time. Finally on maybe the fourth go, basically screaming at this point, the guy managed to break that precarious equilibrium point, get his weight up over his arms and finish up the mantle.
It was a good lesson for us about the dangers of sitting too far back from the cliff when someone is placing stoppers.
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Sierra Ledge Rat
Mountain climber
Old and Broken Down in Appalachia
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Nov 23, 2016 - 09:22am PT
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This story ends with you yelling "DUH!"
I had to go back to the Kahilta landing strip to get something, so I took off alone walking down the Kahiltna Glacier.
Suddenly I punched through the surface up to my arm pits. I laughed a bit, then pushed back and looked down into the hole.
I saw that I was out in the middle of a 20-foot wide crevasse, and the walls of the crevasse were vertical and went straight down into the blackness. Then I was scared.
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Sierra Ledge Rat
Mountain climber
Old and Broken Down in Appalachia
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Nov 23, 2016 - 09:58am PT
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One winter I was skiing chutes on the Collegiate 14ers outside of Buena Vista, Colorado. We were sleeping in an old abandoned miner's cabin back in the wilderness that still had a wood stove - and wood. We kept the inside of the cabin at a balmy 15 degrees with the fire going.
I climbed up to the top of one chute, clicked into my bindings, and stood there for a while to warm my hands.
I saw a crack develop in the snow along both sides of the couloir, and looked up just in time to see the two cracks meet at the top of the chute. As soon as the two cracks met the entire chute avalanched, and I went for a wild ride.
Thank goodness I was near the top of the chute, but that advantage was offset by the fact I was wearing skis. I started sliding down inside of the avalanche, and tried to swim upwards, but my skis were weighed down in the snow.
Suddenly - I popped out of the avalanche and came to a stop while the rest of the avalanche continued downhill.
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hooblie
climber
from out where the anecdotes roam
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Nov 23, 2016 - 10:35am PT
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previously posted:
on the north face of granite peak, my partner and i ascended a steepening summer snowfield to the edge of a bergschrund. there, after paying our respects to its gaping maw of alluring darkness, we moved to the side, defanged where the gap could be jumped, and moved back to the chute which provided our directissima. some alpine ice lingered behind a tower near the top. the melt out had left enough debris perched about that it seemed wise to coil the rope which i carried over my shoulder. it all went well enough till the scene of my closest call.
across a foot ledge i made an exposed traverse right into a left facing corner which offered two burger sized pedestals, each smooth, sloping and stacked, one a high step's distance above the other. my predicament took place a giant move above them.
a stiff boot was stuffed into a corner pocket, the left boot stemmed onto a lonely, polished, half golf ball on the face. the counter pressure against my whole right side was the source of my stability. unhappily my right side, crowded awkwardly into the corner included a slotted axe dragging the granite with my pack snagging and scraping as i thrutched to gain extension up to a mantle shelf. there a hand crack awaited me at a lower angle, or so i thought.
i had been lured into sort of a bait and switch thing. excavating a bunch of dirty grit revealed not a hand crack, but a bottomed out pea pod. a v-shaped pit for smearing the heal of my right hand into, but my elbow was kind of pinned against the wall and the groove above didn't offer enough side torque to replace the effect of that left stem once committed to leaving it behind.
reversal was a distasteful prospect because i had loaded up those sloping pedestals with enough grassy grit that i dared not step down on them. at this point the sweat started to pour, and my friend got a little squeaky. i should have demanded a sayonara photo for the write up, but no dice lacking a camera.
on two or three different occasions i felt my boot melting away on that shiny hemisphere. that was the hair trigger that held the whole contraption together. i pictured myself getting pretty roughed up cartwheeling all the way back to the schrund.
mind control was my chief asset. i knew that the stem had held me so far but as the tension was rising, so was my pressure on that knob. i recognized this process as my ticket to the afterlife and that i dare not smear the mango. each time i imagined the boot to be creeping, i declined the offer of a death spiral, only clarifying self restraint held me in place. not more pressure, not my partner beseeching me not to fall.
the luck of the day was that my axe wasn't upside down. inch by inch my left hand extracted the thing with my helmet bowed to the mantle shelf. granite gouged the (gratefully) straight shaft along the way. at the tipping point i managed not to drop it and the bottom of that groove had enough grain to it that the pick was secure, but darned wobbley for mantling onto. i cursed every buckle and strap that snagged on the tip of the shaft. there was some ugly contortioning as my feet rotated out and i beached myself over the axehead, but i was given a pass to remain in the light.
i tossed down the an end of the rope, and lodged myself into a no gear belay, my buddy tied in and brought up the rack. soon we were back to third classing. to be fair i should report that he freed it and found it to be "not that bad, maybe easy ten." HA!
i've felt sandbagged before, but rarely both before and after the fact. whatever the difficulty might have been, not overloading that stem was a focused act of self preservation and these last thirty years of further adventure have been all the reward a guy could ask for.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Nov 23, 2016 - 10:50am PT
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Fritz
Social climber
Choss Creek, ID
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Nov 23, 2016 - 11:17am PT
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Gripping & Gnarley tales folks. Thanks for sharing them.
I had two "should of died moments" in two days on a 1978 climb of 10,610' Mt. Fay in the Canadian Rockies, as detailed in this trip report.
http://www.supertopo.com/tr/MARK-FRITZS-BIG-MT-FAY-1978-CANADIAN-ADVENTURE/t11242n.html
The first incident was on our chosen approach route, which is now usually avoided:
Near the top of 3-4 Couloir: the loose, wet limestone blocks finally gave way to a high angle scree slope. At the end of my last lead I suggested un-roping, but without comment Mark continued past me roped-up. Halfway up his scree lead he pounded a piton into a Cadillac-size rock buried in the now gravel like surrounding rock. Fifty feet higher, Mark just flopped down in the gravel and told me, “on belay.”
When I got to Mark’s piton, I removed it. Rather than slog through the steep gravel around the Cadillac-sized rock, I simply stepped up onto the rock. As I stood on the rock, arms akimbo, catching my breath; it suddenly rolled out from under me! I jumped into the air: landing on my feet in the scree, as Mark pulled me up tight with the rope.
Let me repeat myself: the Cadillac-size chunk of rock that we had both assumed was bedrock, or at least damned solid, rolled out from under me like a log in water, when I stood on it!
I still occasionaly think about the scary scenarios that might have happened if Mark had chosen to climb onto that rock, instead of slogging around it, after pounding in a piton & clipping in. The scenarios are all short & unpleasant.
The second occured shortly after we summited, after spending time under the annoyingly drippy summit cornice. We later learned about it falling off, when we were slightly late in reporting in with the rangers.
We were nearing the end of Moraine Lake and had finally reached a trail, when we heard a helicopter. To our dismay it appeared, then headed right up toward Mt. Fay: without a doubt looking for Mark and Fritz. Mark took off running for the Ranger hut, still one mile away. I sped up, but trotted along fatalistically. After all, I knew we would get an ass-chewing whenever we both appeared. Mark was able to stop a second search helicopter from getting in the air.
We were asked to appear at the main Ranger Station. The rangers were stern, but pleasant. They let us off with a minor lecture on climbers’ responsibility.
Then one ranger shocked us by explaining the early morning rescue helicopters were due to their fears that we had been injured or killed when the summit cornice fell off the afternoon of our climb. There was silence ---- while the fact sunk in that the annoyingly drippy summit-cornice, we had both spent too-much time under, had fallen off right after we summited.
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Sierra Ledge Rat
Mountain climber
Old and Broken Down in Appalachia
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Nov 23, 2016 - 11:29am PT
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Big Wall attempt in the Great Gorge, Alaska
We attempted a big wall in the Great Gorge. After fixing about 5 pitches, we rapped down to out tent on the glacier at the base of the wall.
That night while cooking dinner, we heard a BIG avalanche. We jumped out of the tent to see a large snow avalanche coming down the bigwall right towards us. We thought we were fukked, but the bergschrund and crevasses ate the whole thing, and were just got a dusting. WHEW!
We figured we were safe, since that face had avalanched - but the SAME THING happed again the next night, but it was a bigger avalanche the 2nd time. Scared the crap out of us AGAIN.
On the 3rd or 4th day, I jugged to the very top of the fixed ropes, and visually scouted the large overhanging chimney above. My partner was a pitch behind me, jugging a free-hanging rope below a large overhang.
Then I heard a "THUNK" and a whole lot of boulders and rocks came flying out of the overhanging chimney directly above me. I flattened against the wall. Rocks were crashing all around me.
I was screaming "ROCK!" but my partner didn't understand what I was yelling until he saw a car-size boulder fly right past him as he was spinning on the rope.
That was the last straw and we rapped off and flew back to Talkeetna.
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Ksolem
Trad climber
Monrovia, California
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Nov 23, 2016 - 01:07pm PT
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The cute girl who got her hair caught in the rap biners and the "rescuers" cut it all off. (I watched this)
Stoney Point? I saw that sh*t come down. Man was she pissed.
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ecdh
climber
the east
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Nov 23, 2016 - 05:32pm PT
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SLR wins the Wile E Coyote award. Thats awesome. The mountain prankster gods look upon you favorably - once.
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greyghost
Trad climber
Las Vegas, NV
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Nov 23, 2016 - 07:54pm PT
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I was somewhere alone up in the Kananaskis Range around Spray Lakes, Canada before it become a provincial Park ..I'd soloed some 4th class gully and was raping down another. Things were going well. A slung flake, a solid pin till the last rap down. I set a 3/4" angle into the crack to rap from and it went ping, ping then thump. There was nothing for it. I attacked a piece of cord, threaded the rope and gently rapped off the single shitty pin.
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Sierra Ledge Rat
Mountain climber
Old and Broken Down in Appalachia
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Nov 23, 2016 - 10:37pm PT
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Here is another one: This is a photo of my very first real trad lead back when I was about 15 years old (c. 1975), in Huntington Ravine. I fell near the top of the pitch, and everything zippered - except for a #3 wired stopper at about the middle of the pitch. I came within 2-3 feet of a grounder. My partner lowered me 2-3 feet to the ledge and took this photo to show how far I fell. Banged up my elbow pretty good on that 80-100 footer. (I think we were using 45m ropes back then)
Dead man walking!
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mountain dog
Trad climber
over the hills and far away
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Nov 23, 2016 - 10:48pm PT
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just almost got in a bar fight
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Inner City
Trad climber
Portland, OR
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Nov 23, 2016 - 11:26pm PT
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this thread is great! When you said 'stupid ones ok' that left me a long list of possibilities..
? ?
Shoot the Moon 5.9 X.Lembert Dome..this is a direct approach to Lunar Leap, which I thought I was heading up to via an 'easy way'... badly runout, no bolts..oooh Posted before..
I was panicked on some gold smooth as all hell stuff in new shoes that kept slowly sliding down. Lookin' at a 30 foot slide into a ledge which I'd not be able to stay on..Why had I come up here? I couldn't down climb that frictiony stuff..oh no.. I was panicked, needing to move up 15 more feet to where the lone Bolt was...Wow that looked so far. When I got to it, I put my finger through the hole and then pushed my finger out with the biner and grabbed the biner and peed myself some. What relief!
Needless to say my belayer was not impressed. Actually as I was in my private horror throws, she did not even know, as I realized there was nothing she could do and I didn't want to increase the group panic by calling attention to my situation. She was sitting on the ledge looking out at the meadows, totally unaware of my predicament. I was a relatively new leader then as I recall. She almost always led. Now you can see why..
Red Rocks, Black Dagger 5.7+ off route...
Way way runout on Black Dagger in Red Rocks on the upper face...I was not in the corner where I should have been,(seeing a trend?) , but was face climbing way right and had to get back into the corner. Probably 60 feet above my belayer with one piece right above him. It was only a 5.8 traverse move, or less. but I was freaked. My belayer kept saying, "you can't fall, you can't fall" I finally matched my feet and got over there and felt massive relief. Embarrassing and scary as anything, it was windy and oh man. I would have died. No helmet in '92.
Conness, West Ridge, Big ass thunderstorm:
Last one: Lightening storm was beading down on us on West Ridge of Conness. There had been tiny red clouds in the morning and I remember thinking that our group ( 2 groups of 2) was going to be slow. I am always slow. Anyway, the sky grows so dark and heavy as we are approaching the summit that we are "running in sheer terror" and we get down to the plateau and down the first part of that NW facing crumbly bit heading back to Young lakes and it breaks loose big time. We are in a cave and the lightening hits not 100 feet from us and everything is ringing and oh jeezus its cold and grapel is raining down and one of my buddies is shivering in a cotton sweatshirt..and then it was gone and sunny and joyous in Conness Meadow 40 minutes later. That one was memorable....Red clouds in the morning...pay close attention...
There are more, but a low grade former weekender has to stop somewhere..a lot of close calls in these adventures..too many others...
thanks for the great stories.
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mountain dog
Trad climber
over the hills and far away
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Nov 24, 2016 - 12:46am PT
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i thought i might die twice in the sierra as it was happening ......both times on summit descent... frozen ice,snow.... no axe...running shoes...
back side of N buttress Mt Goode and coming off Mt Carl Heller
aluminum tent poles for ice daggers don't work very well
light and fast almost light and dead
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Peater
Trad climber
Salt Lake City Ut.
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Topic Author's Reply - Nov 25, 2016 - 01:17am PT
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Great stories everyone, thanks and keep it up.
While I was moving to UT state I saw Wheeler Peak. I forget how tall it is 12 or 13. Cool I want to climb that. It's early spring and the Rangers say there's no way cause the snow is still too deep. Bummed I still went up to the trail head to check it out.
Down comes a troupe of teenage girl scouts who had camped out on part of the peak and spent the weekend snowboarding.
Ok I'm going. I don't have any gear so duct tape gaiters will have to do. I''m off in the early morning in the dark to stay on top of the crust.
A couple hours later I'm on this steep crusty snow face that I need to go up, well I really don't need to but I do anyway
Kicking steps in the hard snow with my hiking boots and it's getting steeper as I go. I'm solo and I'm starting to get a little frightened. I'm looking at a 200 meter slide into the rocks at the bottom and going up to safety is steeper and not as close as I wish it would be.
But going up is closer. A few steps later I found a 2.5' by 1" tough stick of wood. That stick gave me the confidence to tackle the last 60' with something that I could maybe self arrest with.
Thanks Stick
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Peater
Trad climber
Salt Lake City Ut.
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Topic Author's Reply - Nov 25, 2016 - 02:17am PT
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Hanging from a single biner belay.
I mean it was just the biner in the crack and nothing else.
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Peater
Trad climber
Salt Lake City Ut.
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Topic Author's Reply - Nov 25, 2016 - 02:46am PT
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I was belaying my partner
He fell on the first pitch.
I caught him upside down head about about 4" from the ground. Rack on the ground.
I was suspended from my ground anchors in mid air. I had pulled a stretch of in rope.
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Reilly
Mountain climber
The Other Monrovia- CA
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Nov 25, 2016 - 07:15am PT
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Oh, you want to talk about catching people? I mean literally catching them, or they and you die.
Clean The Anchors!
The rope came taut just as the sun's rays faded. Over the rising wind I yelled down, "Rope!" I hung from my jams and waited. A faint "OK!" drifted up. After a few more feet the hand crack miraculously blossomed into a classic pea pod into which I hauled myself.
A good sized ledge lay 6' above but I couldn't see any potential anchors. As I scanned the pea pod I reached the same conclusion. It didn't matter much anyway as the only gear I had left were some wired stoppers. Oddly, there was a thin flake on each side of the pea pod. I got a #3 behind one and a #2 behind the other. The trouble was I honestly think I could have pried the flakes off with my fingers. I was wedged in there nicely so I didn't even take the time to rig my Sticht; a hip belay would be plenty good for his 145 pounds. Later it turned out the crafty Scot had been climbing long before I yelled for more rope.
When he arrived he didn't need to be told to just keep going; he already had all the gear. He also didn't need to be told that a night on top of a 9000' Cascade peak in early October dressed in painter's pants and T-shirts was not exactly why he had visited. True, it had been a lovely Indian Summer day for an alpine first ascent, but now it was becoming rapidly clear how little heat high dry air can retain. It was also looking like our little exercise in hubris and traveling light was going to give us lasting memories.
Tom scampered up onto the long sloping ledge. At the top of the ledge was a short wall with a tricky looking roof about 8' above. Without bothering to put anything in Tom charged ahead like the good Scot he was. When he reached the roof he paused, appeared to try and extend his 5'-6" frame to 5'-8", and shot backwards with no warning. He started sliding down the ledge. It looked like he was headed for the big one so I tried to take in all I could but wedged into the pea pod as I was it was only about 2'. When I looked back up he wasn't going off to my right but was instead headed straight for me! He came over the edge in a tsunami of gravel. The only thing I could do was extend my arms for the return of the prodigal son. He dropped into them in a perfectly seated position just like the blushing bride being carried across the threshold. We started tipping out of the pod but I threw us back into it without testing the anchors, such as they were.
Spitting out a mouthful of dirt I invoked Whillans and said, "Right, now get back up there and don't fall!" Which, without a word, he did, again sans protection. Of course, all the hurry was for nought as by the time we got down to the glacier it had set up harder than chinese algebra. No way we were getting down it in the dark in Robbins boots armed with one Coonyard alpine hammer between us. It was a night to remember. While I shivered the night away Tom curled up in his cagoule and snored like a good Scot. Ach, ya bloody booger ya!
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pud
climber
Sportbikeville & Yucca brevifolia
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Nov 25, 2016 - 09:04am PT
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I lead "Pole Position" in the Valley. Got to the anchors and belayed my partner up. It is 10a and about the hardest she could follow then.
She struggled a little at the crux but made it to the anchor without a fall.
As she stood on the tiny ledge in front of me, all smiles, I asked her to lean into me a little. She did and I grabbed her harness and pulled her to me.
She asked what I was doing. I pointed to her tie in.
The rope was simply laced through the harness, No knot at all.
Her smile turned to tears and we sat there for a long time before lowering.
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SC seagoat
Trad climber
Santa Cruz, Moab, A sailboat, or some time zone
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Nov 25, 2016 - 10:48am PT
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This has been great. I've been on a reading slump so this has picked things up.
Susan
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