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moonchild
Social climber
gone with the wind
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milktoast you rule.
i'm glad for knowing you.
here's an old one that I hope brings you a smile.
"24 April, 1998. 12:00 noon. Old Climbers' Home, Oakland, California. Michael "Betamikester" "Bro" Brodesky has not arrived. I check out a chrome-plated walker from the front desk, then move my piled packs to the porch of the Old Climbers' Home so we can load Brodesky's car without him seeing the disaster area in the catacombs where I currently reside, a hybrid of garbage dump and exploded haul bag.
1:30 pm. Bro finally shows up, and mentions that his brakes are smoking. Sudden change of plans, we shovel all our stuff into the back of the Cave. Shove off along Highway 580 at 70 miles per, eastbound from Oakland, California toward the Valley of Dreams. Brief stop at the Oakdale Taco Bell to choke down roadkill. Bro takes the wheel. I snore with senile satisfaction in the shotgun seat, spittle staining my shirt, confident we are safe from attack for the moment.
Somewhere on Highway 120. As Mike brakes hard and swerves, I jerk awake. The pavement is covered with a thin layer of slushy snow. Truck is fishtailing around an overturned SUV, narrowly missing oncoming traffic. Several cars are stopped. A group of lean, honed sportclimbers loiter beside the road as the snow drifts down, one miming the beta of the accident to the others. The immediate problem seems under control. We pull into Crane Flat, Mike reports the accident. I return to the snooze.
Yosemite Valley. The incessant rain is a dreary homecoming after my two-month absence. Brodesky feels ripped off. Just another beautiful day in Patagonia. "Hey," I say. "Tomorrow is another day." As the evening gloom deepens, we retreat to the Curry Village Pizzeria and down our sorrows with cholesterepperoni.
Awahnee Hotel. Dusk. Headlamps out, I totter my walker ahead of me behind Michael as the sky sprinklers shut down. I've slogged this stench of forest so many times this year that I remember the places where I made handprints in the snow, the locations of coyote dung, the blue gear-marking tape where Nurse Ratchet and I joked about trail markers, remember where to turn, where to rest, where I left the food stash two months ago when attempting a winter ascent of the Prow; where I peed, pooped, and puked. An attempt that was pre-doomed to failure due to storms and the flu, under the sleet sheets and snowy blankets of the Upper Pines Hospital Ward, our week-long physical therapy trudging-haulbag-heavy up and posthole-portaging down the slop to the Column, weak and wasted. Ya pays for yer ticket and ya takes yer chances.
Presently Bro and I bivy at the Astroman base at 9 pm. We slip into the sacks, sinking snoozeward, alarm set for some ungodly hour.
4:00 am, 25 April 1998. Deep sleep interrupted by the dreaded beep. Sluggish, yet aware of need to move. Breakfast. harness. Carefully stretch the old body. Stash the walker and the packs. Slug last glug of water, force-march the gully to the base of Washington Column South Face Route, where our adventure is to begin. I retch. Betamikester looks concerned. Guess he'd forgotten about that part..
Dinner Ledge. 7:30 am. Mikester sped us here in virtually no time at all. My turn. We're leading in blocks, selected for our relative strengths. I get a last blast of beta from Brodesky and totter out 120 feet left to the base of the first steep section, a 5.9 offwidth/squeeze chimney. Bro follows, another brief conference and gear transfer, then its up the offwidth, belaying at bolts [OH, the IMPACT!!!] 130' higher. Mikester follows as if on wings, dumps the pack and rack, and I'm off again. This time it's a tension traverse to a 5.10c crack which feels a lot like A1 to me ol' geezer bones after the first few moves, feet skating on flakes and flying bits-o'-rock. Slow swim upward in aiders, over the bulge, to cut into 5.9 free climbing up to the belay.
Yet again. Step right, 5.9 (loose and grainy A1 to the geezer) up a bit, pendulum again, gulp gulp in fear, place place pro pro, long traversing runout below, then creep, mewling, up the vertical C2 crux through flakes exfoliating and clenching my crawling incontinent bowels to a bolt, another pendulum, and finally stance at the base of a 40-foot high, 3-inch thick granite wafer held in place by inertia; morning sunlight finally sweeping the face.
Mikester appears, wrapped in pack and tangled rope like a confused beetle bound in spidersilk, awaiting a last meal on the web. He stumbles to the stance, muttering it might be quicker if the Duffer heads up first, giving him time to unstrangle. Done. What follows is a terrifying 5.8 jam/cryback up the flakexpanding, a 5.10 romp up the offwidth, power pulls through loose and wobbly, to a leftward traverse over unprotected face. Pins would get me a pendulum, but that is unthinkable as I thoughtlessly find myself pinned to the wall in a half-mantle-half-flail, feet-slipping 20-foot pendulum fall ahead taketakeTAKETENSIONTAKE!!!! and the rope tightens, I winch myself back into the corner, and reassess. This time the rope is my handhold, tensioning across the 5.11 face, liebacking off nylon and nubbins Oh Dulfer.
Crimp and slap and i reach a fixed pi and easyaid up to the Top of the Mark and the end of my leads.
Mikester arrives and heads across unprotected 5.7 face we call 5.7+ [translation "feels like 5.10c"] to yet another tension traverse, then a ledge where he stops to bring me across, the 80-foot pitch having netted us a vertical elevation gain of two feet.
Now Bro's on a thin crack the topo calls A1/5.9 meaning after you aid up tiny brass where the crack disappears into the featureless face you launch into 30 feet of 5.9 mandatory face climbing thinking only of how-far-below-are-those-last-two-brass-bits-nestled-in- the-crack and I'm so very glad you led it and not me, thank you Bro. Mike ends the pitch where the rope does, and I romp upwards, giving the lead line a shake to dislodge the few anorexic pieces. This pitch is scantily decorated, and janitor Brutus has little to do but jug.
Next are roofs which resemble chockstones resembling roofs in our gutter/gully/corner, and Bro, a bubble working around seaweed to the surface of the fishtank, swings upward in aiders, backcleaning until out of sight. "Fixed!" echoes down and I confirm he's off belay, then abandon the stance to the moss, the oak, and the teetering death block; jugging roofs, chimney and rubble onto a wide slickery pineneedle ledge. Mikester craftily heads out before I can dump gear onto him, then brings me up to the end of the climb. Quick sort and we scratch up over the top of the Column, stumbling across the brush ledges, thrashing for the gully.
We find a fixed rope at the top of North Dome Gully and, grinning and not proud, rappel the steep dirt clear down to the stream. I dig out the headlamps and we head down the slabs, racing the end of the day.
Arrive at the base of the Column at last light 14 hours after we started, unearth the packs and the walker, chomp bootybeans, swill beer, and from our sleepingbags greet Doctor Coomer who is carrying loads for a solo attempt on Southern Man; sleep, totter out, sort gear, and return to the Old Climbers' Home 48 hours after we left. I check my walker at the front desk, until next time. Nurse Ratchet peers over her spectacles: "So how was your walk?"
All in all, a nice little stroll." -bruce binder
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Fritz
Social climber
Choss Creek, ID
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Topic Author's Reply - Aug 3, 2018 - 09:14am PT
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Nice tale Bruce! I'm glad the nurse let you folks go for a walk.
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Ken M
Mountain climber
Los Angeles, Ca
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Watching Trump in action, it’s hard to escape the impression that he knows very well that he’s inflicting punishment on his own base.
But he’s a man who likes to humiliate others, in ways great and small. And my guess is that he actually takes pleasure in watching his supporters follow him even as be betrays them.
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Ken M
Mountain climber
Los Angeles, Ca
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As for Jody, just remember that his hero, Ted Cruz, is descended from a father who assassinated Kennedy.
You won't find Jody defending Cruz. He doesn't understand the concept of "loyalty".
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John M
climber
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If lying makes one an enemy of the state.
Then Trump is an enemy of the state.
Sarah Sanders is an enemy of the state.
Rudy Giuliani is an enemy of the state.
Etc..
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Ken M
Mountain climber
Los Angeles, Ca
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KenM, of course I defend Cruz, would still rather have him as president. However, I am pleasantly surprised by how well Trump is doing and with very few exceptions I can't complain.
Which only means that you had a sense of justice and ethics, until it was convenient not to have one. Hardly surprising from a law enforcement officer, who broke the law to buy/ship weapons illegally.
Take note everyone, what the claim for justice and ethics are worth from republicans/conservatives.
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Ken M
Mountain climber
Los Angeles, Ca
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" Barack Obama:
"What type of ID do we need to buy groceries? I'm at the store and all I have on me is my birth certificate.""
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John M
climber
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time to dial back the nastiness people. Take a break. C2summit is just trolling you guys.
sorry to ruin your fun C2.. I'm sure a few will still bite. You could stand in the middle of a street in NY and yell "I'm a troll" and some would still bite.
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Tom
Big Wall climber
San Luis Obispo CA
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Oh the biggest blow hard of them all Tom. Are you the busy body that sits on El Cap bridge all day photographing?! Talk about a Loser!
No, I am not Tom Evans, who was a chopper pilot in Vietnam, has climbed El Capitan a few times and whose photography is appreciated by many people. El Capitan is a fishbowl for those who climb it, and has been since 1959. Tom Evans was not the first person to stand at the base, observing climbers.
Your inability to discern one person from another here indicates that you are a newcomer to this forum. You are probably not a climber at all, if you don't know the difference between me and Tom Evans.
My guess is that you're a Russian agent/bot with a Moscow mandate to disseminate false information and to personally attack people presenting facts about Donald Trump.
Trump professes to be knowledgeable of Alphonse "Al" Capone. Here's a story that Trump supporters can relate to: Al Capone was a notoriously violent, psychopathic and murderous gangster who was defended, in the court of public opinion in Chicago, because he handed out free turkeys at Thanksgiving. His fan base thought he was a great guy, because they personally benefited from his criminally-funded largess.
Al Capone spent a decade in Federal prison for tax evasion. Ironically, Trump is currently under New York State and Federal investigation for financial malfeasance, including potential tax evasion.
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monolith
climber
state of being
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Edward T suffers from TDS
More cognition issues from sea2summit.
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Tom
Big Wall climber
San Luis Obispo CA
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Climb harder than your weak ass.
TRANSLATION:
I don't know who you are, but I must be better than you, because my empty rhetoric is accusatory and absurd.
Anyone that posts subject regarding Trump and how bad is weak super weak. Get up earlier loser.
Trump posses the qualities of Winston Churchill. Blunt and to the point! Al Capone boy you are delusional! Tom suffers from TDS.
If you're going to pretend to know what you're writing about, the least you can do is know how to write in coherent English sentences. Or, did you just learn a few words of English at the FSB academy?
The person who is delusional about Al Capone is Trump himself.
Trump tweeted this two days ago:
Manafort's trial for tax evasion and bank fraud is progressing beautifully. It is a wonderful thing to watch people who are very good at their jobs performing at the highest level of their competence. Mueller's team, if anything, is a little too eager to show the jury everything.
Manafort's bookkeepers and tax accountants have consistently testified that Manafort intentionally concealed offshore bank accounts from them. Wire transfers from those offshore banks, to recipients in the United States, were used to finance Manafort's lavish lifestyle. A bookkeeper has testified that Manafort personally approved "every single penny" that was spent.
Manafort's defense, so far, is that "somebody else must have done it".
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monolith
climber
state of being
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sea2summit, even without knowing anything about Edward T, all you had to do was play his link for a few seconds and would know he does not suffer from TDS.
You got played, dumbass.
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kunlun_shan
Mountain climber
SF, CA
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Trump posses the qualities of Winston Churchill. Blunt and to the point! Al Capone boy you are delusional!
Hilarious!
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Tom
Big Wall climber
San Luis Obispo CA
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I’m the one pulling the strings now!
I think that is what Trump yells out in his sleep, right before he jolts upright in bed, dripping sweat, and trying to shake off another recurring nightmare.
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