Discussion Topic |
|
This thread has been locked |
Mungeclimber
Trad climber
sorry, just posting out loud.
|
|
Freak Show, you say?
|
|
Tom
Big Wall climber
San Luis Obispo CA
|
|
The hauling station above the Fish Crack Roof (Bermuda Dunes) had a free-hanging line of about a hundred feet.
PTPP took off, on solo on the next pitch. And left the bags in space. I'd clean and haul, and we'd summit that day.
The Roof was pins, sorta expando, and hard to clean quickly.
The Bags had time to dance, in the updraft winds.
By the time I cleaned the pitch and got to the hauling station, the two haul bags had twisted and swirled in the updraft. The two haul ropes had become one twisted rope.
I rapped on our spare lead rope, and tried to untwist the mess. Swinging free, kicking the bags in synch with our mutual pendulum action, I was the only thing that started to unwind. A hundred feet down on a rope, and twenty feet from the wall, and 2000 feet from the deck, and completely out of control of the situation, I lost it.
(expletives, and the sordid details of what I called PTPP are deleted, at the behest of the editor)
Eventually, PTPP came down and we simul-hauled (not that way. Two guys, hauling separately on two ropes) and untwisted the ropes to bring the bags into the station. As I remember, we'd only get six inches of twist out of the rope for each cycle.
Don't let two haul bags hang on their ropes below a roof. It will hurt your brain in places you didn't know existed.
|
|
Tom
Big Wall climber
San Luis Obispo CA
|
|
Yeah, spare lead rope.
Yeah, separate haul lines, one for each bag.
Lead rope, two haul ropes and a spare lead rope.
Ever done a big wall?
Ever done a big wall in high/fine style?
PTPP and I are not NIAD type climbers. We are Wall Campers, old guys who drag the Winnebago luxury up the wall with us.
Two haul bags and an extra lead rope weighs nothing, compared to the cost of not bringing enough food and water. I figure it's a hedge against unpredictables, like the weather.
It can pay off.
Like the time the Wall Campers kept camping, in a 3-day June snow storm, and the Wall Climbers were scrambling for descent anchors.
The Wall Campers reached the summit.
|
|
ckalous
Trad climber
Colorado
|
|
Despite other posts where a drunk version of me claims that aid climbing is not hard...
From World's End in the Fishers.
If an aid climber sobs on the wall and nobody hears it, is he still a pussy?
There is pitch up there where you do some nailing and then head up a band of solid stone that has river cobbles imbeded in it. Some stick out far enough that the halfway point on the ellipse is flat enough to use a piece of tieoff webbing to "sling" the cobble. Pure friction keeps these things on. So imagine a rounded cobble, a tie off, and all of your fingers on both hands pressing it in place like playing a teeny-tiny piano. Oh, and right next to the one you are on is an empty hole where there USED to be one!
Unlike a hook that often will at least hang there when you move off of it, these things literally slip off as soon as you unweight them.
So la-dee-da, I am making one, two, three of these moves and so on and I am desperately looking for a bolt that is supposed to be up there someplace. The wall is smooth and I can't see any bolt? WTF Beyer?
Finally, I am on one of the worst of these moves, at least my memory tells me that now, and I can't see any bolt. The sling on the cobble is at chin level and my fingers are all lined up. I probably look like some little kid peering into the candy store. Except, I am sure their is no look of delight in my eyes.
Faced with the prospect of high stepping, I begin to break down. At first it is like a little cough, then a little snort and some snot. Then, like a little drop of dew, a tiny raindrop, almost could have passed for perspiration, a tear rolls down my cheek. Holy f*#king shit! This is so shocking to me, I instantly choke back the next sob. Before it begins again, I swing up into my highsteps and BING, like a pot of gold or a Diamond ring washed up in this primordial beach, there is the god-damn bolt hidden in an indentation!
I clip the thing faster than a new delhi pick-pocket and then, even then, high on that wall in the middle of nowhere, I look around like "Who saw that? Did anybody see that?" No? Well, good. 'Cause I wasn't crying anyway, I had sand in my eye. This thing is pile after all.
|
|
Fat Dad
Trad climber
Los Angeles, CA
|
|
The extra lead rope can be nice, especially if you're cleaning a pitch with some sharp edges. Tie one end of the second line to the haul bag, fix it at the anchors and clip into as a backline if the lead line gets cut.
I've only done it once, on the 19th or 20th pitch of the POW (where it goes up around that sharp corner) and I'm sure glad I had it.
|
|
WoodySt
Trad climber
Riverside
|
|
Years ago on Chinche, we had two guys in our group establish a camp a thousand feet above us so they could get moving and work out the route as we came up. They didn't get with it when they should have and started when we were nearing their high camp. As they began moving up, I noted the leader edging south and under rather large cornices off the summit. I let it go thinking he must see something I didn't. When we reached a point about a hundred feet from the summit, under the cornices and well south of the usual route, I ask why were we where we were, and he replied that "I wanted you to see that there is no way up from here." I completely lost it for the first time in my life; I really wanted to kill him. I started screaming and slashing into the ice with my ax. I kept beating the ice with my ax and yelling "You what! You what! You idiot!" If a friend hadn't stepped in, I think I'd have buried my ax in his head and shoved him into a crevasse. I took the lead and pushed north under the damned cornices and to the north end of the summit formation trying to beat the clock; we didn't make it. After that day the weather moved in and screwed things up.
|
|
k-man
Gym climber
SCruz
|
|
I've yet to read the stories, but this is the best headline I've seen in a long while.
And to answer the question..umm, yes. But heck, the rope didn't stretch 40 like she said it would, and she still wouldn't let go.
|
|
Rhodo-Router
Gym climber
Otto, NC
|
|
|
Nov 11, 2007 - 05:52pm PT
|
I think on hard hooking pitches the Wall Gods require the shedding of the occasional tear before granting passage. Sometimes, one must reach the point of despair--big sigh, head on the wall, quick glance down to confirm the grimness of the scenario-- before one is permitted to recognize that big flat edge where nothing was before.
|
|
Crimpergirl
Social climber
St. Looney
|
|
|
Nov 11, 2007 - 06:12pm PT
|
I am crying from laughing at this most excellent prose!
"...I begin to break down. At first it is like a little cough, then a little snort and some snot. Then, like a little drop of dew, a tiny raindrop, almost could have passed for perspiration, a tear rolls down my cheek. Holy f*#king shit! This is so shocking to me, I instantly choke back the next sob."
|
|
TrundleBum
Trad climber
Las Vegas
|
|
|
Nov 13, 2007 - 03:35pm PT
|
No epic, gripping tale, just good clean heckling.
September 78'
I am reaching the end of my excuses for not going up on my first wall.
Picked Half Dome N.W as a place to start. My partner and I had just celebrated my 18'th birthday on the miserable sloper at the top of the 6th pitch.
We were plodding along upward, not hauling but second jugging with a monster pack. All morning we see this party and they are flying up the route. I was belaying my partner as he started up the bolt ladder of p-9 and I see this party is finishing the pitch below. Just about the time my partner is making the top of the ladder and dropping into the little pendulum, this French madman comes running across the 4'rth class ledges to me, jabbering "Frehnge team, Half dome, one day, we pass, Frehnge team, Half dome, one day we pass...".
I say that's very nice, as soon as I clean this pitch we'll let you pass.
Nope! he would have no part of it.
In a manner officious enough to rival even Napoleon himself, he starts off, French free' up the ladder clipping his biners into ours. He blows through the little pendulum and is standing at the belay with my partner as I start to jug the pitch. I get about 1/2 way up the bolt ladder and the 'Frehnge team's second is right on my ass bat manning up.
I don't know how but the ropes got wrapped a few times because of the way the 'Frehnge team' leader had monkeyed around with the gear while bat manning up our stuff.
Here I am, in jugs, got about a 30lb pack on my back and I am having to play 'ring around the rosie' with this Frenchman. He is squishing between me and the wall as I step over him and then the opposite I am pasting myself against the wall while this guy goes behind/ around me.
Things had been going pretty good all morning, but all of a sudden there was a lot of exposure and I was not a very happy camper. I just decided that this was all a little more drama than I would have wished for. So "Damn the torpedoes" "fight fire with fire" "get dramatic in a dramatic situation" I decide it might be fun to just do a little 'snap job'.
Being almost level with the belay ledge I am looking over at my partner and start in with expletives about these 'Frehnge team' members and their ethics. My partner told me I should pipe down as they might get upset. I chuckled and said in a loud voice to the 'Frehnge team' leader something like "your mother wears army boots!" He just chuckled, looked at my partner and said, "no anglaise". This repeated with the "dad wears soiled panties" and usual gambit of adolescent taunts. I was just warming up.
Yet not getting a reaction from him was very disruptive to my 'tude. I mean "Hey I woke up this morning and if I wanted, I can now go shoot an M16".
I started to swear like a sailor at the guy telling him he was the rudest mofo etc...
All the while he just laughed and kept saying "no anglaise".
I was trying to get this guy's goat and not wining. Pointing my finger straight at him I yelled "you don't understand anglaise, because you are a dumb, ignorant, arrogant, God damn Frog!'
Holy cow!
In a flash, the second this guy hears the word "Frog" he utterly snaps and instantly grabs my partner by the neck with both hands and threatens to throttle him, screaming at him "No Froggy, No Froggy..."
My partner is yelling "shut up, that's an ethnic slur and this guy might have rabies, shut up all ready!"
I finally mellowed out, the situation mellowed out and off they went, peeling flakes, dropping rocks and yarding their way upward.
They did not make the top in a day and spent the night out in slings with probably nothing more than a wool hat and a duvet. When they topped out the next morning we were making our way up the zigs when they hung over the edge and yelled down "American team.... ha ha ha 'Frehnge team' - 1/2 dome, 1 1/2 day"
I just yelled back up "Muhhahhahhah... and one miserable night out"
About 2 days later I see the 'Frehnge team' in the general store, I talked to them a little and with pantomime ribbed them about freezing their 'tah tah's off up there. I had gone through the check out line and was headed for the door when I see the 'Frehnge team' still shopping in an aisle. I just couldn't help myself, with a huge grin, I whistled. As they turned to look I 'flipped them off' and said "Dumb frogies".
Holy toledo, OMG, sh&t....
The guy drops his stuff and bum rushes me and proceeded to chase me 1/2 way to the Ahwahnee.
I didn't see those guys again but I did make a point to move out of Camp 4 and take up residence at the 'Ahwahnee bivy' for a week or so.
|
|
Toker Villain
Big Wall climber
Toquerville, Utah
|
|
|
Nov 13, 2007 - 03:53pm PT
|
You should have pantomimed cutting his rope when he first tried to pass you.
|
|
Crimpergirl
Social climber
Boulder, Colorado!
|
|
|
Dec 31, 2008 - 12:31am PT
|
No big wall hissys here. Thousands on short walls. There isn't enough time in the day to describe them all. I'll let a photo do the talking:
|
|
bvb
Social climber
flagstaff arizona
|
|
|
Dec 31, 2008 - 12:43am PT
|
never had a hissy on a wall. lots of MAJOR hissys on sh#t i didn't have to bivvy on.
only wall i ever slept on was in baja, too scared to expend energy on arguing with my partner...
glad to say i'm now way too sage and way too tired to ever argue with a climbing partner again.
life is too short, climbing is too good.
|
|
neebee
Social climber
calif/texas
|
|
|
Dec 31, 2008 - 01:03am PT
|
hey there crimpergrrl.. say, done-proper, by your picture post...
each wall is unique.. big wall, small wall... what IS important is that the proper "hissy fit" is applied for each surcomstance... being that:
each wall, big or small, had its own way of trying to "whittle away" the human stamina... and each response of such, much match said-situation...
course, i know, one can choose not to have one, but this is a "fitting" post for displaying them... :)
thanks for your fast and to the point share...
*the other shares, of course, are just great... i greatly ADMIRE the stamina of you all... to conquer these walls...
may you all, in your wonderful, though at times dangerous climbs, have less "hissy fits", due to things falling into sink, a mite more, and thus, more "gloating and glee" (especially over saftey issues, after an unseen mess-up) and then, too some relaxed bending of a thankful knee....
great share, guys...
|
|
ec
climber
ca
|
|
|
Dec 31, 2008 - 02:52am PT
|
Did I hear my name in reference to this Owlman?
"...I start name and cussing the great sand baggers...a huge list really, that I yelled out...like, "Robbins, phuque that guy...and the Bird...and EC Joe..."-Owlman
The definition of the term 'sandbag' as excerpted from the American Heritage Dictionary:
sand·bag
3. Slang c. To downplay or misrepresent one's ability in a game or activity in order to deceive (someone), especially in gambling: sandbagged the pool player by playing poorly in the first game when stakes were low.
LOL - ec
|
|
Captain...or Skully
Trad climber
North of the Owyhees
|
|
|
Dec 31, 2008 - 01:40pm PT
|
More Hissy bumps....because a hissy fit can result in bumps.
I DO have a hammer.......
|
|
apogee
climber
|
|
|
Dec 31, 2008 - 02:12pm PT
|
I'll bite, though this doesn't approach the epic quality of some of the posts thusfar. On our first attempt on Spaceshot, Rob & I drove from San Diego only to arrive and find the walls coated in rimy ice and snow. Went home. Our second attempt looked more promising- we arrived in the afternoon and fixed the first few pitches, then rapped and crashed at the campground, intending to send it in a day, and brought no bivy gear. Our alpine start greeted us with cloudy, drizzly skies, but we gave it a shot anyway. I lead the first pitch, a bolt ladder to an A1 crack- the transition b/w them was a bit tricky, though- the start of the crack was so blown out & flared, I couldn't get anything to stick. After fiddling with everything I had on my rack, I stuffed my cleaning tool into the hole and tied it off short, and moved through it. Yay!
As we moved through P2 & 3, the weather started getting funkier- heavier clouds, and I started getting that 'bail' feeling, which I have experienced before for no good, rational reason, except utter pansy-fear. It's getting darker and funkier, and I keep yelling to Rob, 'Dude- maybe we should bail!', feeling conflicted and a bit of a wanker. Rob shouts back confidently, 'Let's go for it!' That pansy-feeling persists, and I whine back to Rob- Let's bail! He reluctantly agrees, and we begin rapping.
Of course, as we rap, a huge blue sky opens up, and the feeling of being a wanker is now complete. Rob is quiet, and I am trying to rationalize my insistence as best I can, with limited success. I suck.
Epilogue: Just as we reached the cars, the mother-of-all-storms slams into Zion, and we watch the walls turn into waterfalls with a beer in our hands and the stereo blazing, from the comfort of our rig. Sometimes hissy fits work out.
|
|
Largo
Sport climber
Venice, Ca
|
|
|
Dec 31, 2008 - 02:37pm PT
|
If you haven't had a hissy fit on a wall you need to do more walls and just get it out of your system. Hungry, tired and scared contribute to a hissy fit most every time.
Also heat. One time (like, on day 4) on the first ascent of a new route on the South Face of Mt. Watkins, Yosemite, I was so fried after leading a pitch that I went on a rant for like ten mintues. That's when I understood how people get killed . . .
JL
|
|
Captain...or Skully
Trad climber
North of the Owyhees
|
|
|
Dec 31, 2008 - 07:19pm PT
|
Hungry, tired, scared, thirsty, overheated, frozen bump.
|
|
|
SuperTopo on the Web
|
Let us know!