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Jello
Social climber
No Ut
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Topic Author's Reply - Nov 22, 2006 - 08:57pm PT
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Yeah, Kevin, maybe it was just his way of welcoming you into the fold...not. Please accept my apologies for his behavior.
The story you mention about Greg is true, but too ugly to repeat here. Greg, George and Mike have all mellowed enormously over the years, as anyone who has met them recently would probably attest. I don't want to throw those old saddles on them, at this point. I do love them like, well, brothers, except for cousin George, and I love him like, well...a brother, too.
Here's a more fitting story for this thread:
Kevin, remember when you and I were putting a new roof on and fixing up that old cabin on my Dad's property near Capitol Reef? Well, one day you drove off to the nearest town, to pick up some supplies, while I stayed behind. I soon got bored with working alone, and grabbed my climbing shoes and headed over to a little sandstone crag in the distance that looked promissing. It was about 1/3 of a mile walk, and when I got there, there was a nice corner right up the middle - about 40' high. I threw on my shoes and started up, full of enthusiasm.
Well, halfway up I came to a leaning bulge and things got serious. I was most of the way through a couple of moves I didn't think I could reverse, when suddenly I realized the next move was going to be much more difficult. The ground suddenly seemed a long way down. I hung in the middle of those moves for what must have been five minutes, unable to commit to going on, and unable to go down. I realized if I fell and hurt myself badly (the likely result), that you would have no idea where I was or what had "befallen" me, when you returned. Finally, before all my strength was wasted, I committed to the crux - which I just barely managed to pull through - then cruised to the top of the cliff.
That was one of only a handful of times that I've been so stupid.
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Jay Hack
Trad climber
bellingham, Washington
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Nov 22, 2006 - 08:57pm PT
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6 years ago a buddy and I, demonstrating typical hubris and little common sense, started up crimson chrysalis on a november day at 3pm-thinking we could tick it by darkness. We climbed the route and started rappelling, things went smoothly right until we got our rope stuck at the top of the first pitch on those classic little red rocks edges. After lots of pulling and messing it up further (one end up in the air the other in front of us....who knew what was happening up there) we argued, of course, for who would have to prusik up to get the rope (we were climbing with shorter ropes and we were unable to provide a belay back up). Before it could get resolved, we heard climbers coming back from cloud tower and through a stroke of my partners genius, convinced them that a great idea-for them- would be to climb chrimson chrysalis by headlamp. They agreed and when they arrived at the top of the second pitch, we politely asked them to unstick our rope and continued down. Nothing like a slice of humble pie to remind myself that I can epic on the first pitch of anything!
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xtrmecat
Trad climber
Kalispell, Montanagonia
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Nov 24, 2006 - 01:58pm PT
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Was early last spring, April or so. I went out to the Lost Wall to put in a couple of solo aid pitches. On the two-track aproach road there was aroung 18 to 20 inches of heavy spring snow. No biggie, just pull in the 4 wheel and give er h3ll. Took some doing but got within 1/4 mile of the wall and climbed the boulder field and hard slick 4th class with a lot more gear than I would need, you know get my hiking legs in shape.
Built my anchor and started up the first of the easy fifth class in my free shoes as it is slab and slopers without any crack for 80 feet or so, at around 60 feet up I had so-so hands
but had stepped in a huge pocket of mud with my left foot.I tried to dry off my bottom by rubbing it on my pant leg but it just wouldn't get dry enough to smear. I tried to just use my right foot and it kept getting wet on the three edges I had to use and then it wouldn't smear up higher. I went up and down this little 10 foot problem around a dozen times, almost reaching within a foot of the bush,my next planned pro, once. Even thought about a dyno but just had no realistic chance of getting it. Went back to my mud hole ledge, big enough to kneel one knee in or both feet, and figured I would have to clean it out and air dry my shoes. This took about and hour but at 35 degrees and no sun they just wern't drying. Taking them off was not and option and I now tried to down climb and this wasn't going to happen either. Looked at the fall and it definately would hurt bad. Even considered trying to go as far as I could downclimb and then just grab the rope on the way down to keep the fall on top of the bleay ledges.
No way. Looked at all the seams around me and nothing I had would go. I had 3 #4 nuts and couldn't even make a head out of one as the biggest thing I had to hammer with was a pearabiner. Tried that for another hour and nothing would even give me the psycolocical pro I needed to go for the bush, and it would barely hold me let alone a Dyno to it. Just couldn't solve this problem. The wires on the #4 nuts would almost go in the crack in one spot so I did that and put my right hand on this to hold it together and clipped it.
Pulled out the cell and called my wife. Got the only person I knew that had a hammer and pins and had the wife bring him as she had the only other rig I knew of that could get them even close. They called and tried to keep me calm but found that I had been hanging out for several hours and I think it kind of spooked them. The wife called my dad and he and I had about an hour long talk but I still couldn't hear them coming nor see the headlights coming through the forest as I could see aproaching traffic for around a mile. I hung up and found that they were still 8 or so dirt road miles out so I let them know I was OK for a while longer but do not mess up in the snow because I had knelt there so long both legs were numb and it was getting cold, too cold for how I was not moving.
Had mother nature soothe me by letting some cow elk pass under me in the dalk. Elk are very vocal when in a group and they meandered by for quite, mewing all the way by. I heard a vehicle coming now and it came for what seemed like 15 minutes before I could even see the lights. When they pulled up to my pickup the comedy began. Steve climbed the boulder field by headlight spewing all sorts of jokes about the situation and making light of it all the way to the steep ground. I guided him up the fourth class as I had the vantage point. He arrived at the anchor and just asked what I wanted to do. We tagged up around 10 pins and a hammer and I went to work by Steve's light. I got one very thin pin about 50% in and tied it off short and clipped in but knew better than to relax on it as it was just ornamental and good for my head only. I then felt good enough to try to remove my pack and to get my head light and other shirt out. I was then no longer in the dark and got about 6 more crappy pins in. I drove on the first one again so hard that it was starting to buckle and I knew it was fixed for sure. I then equalized the whole mess with two seperat systems and rapped my tag line to the anchor, left the whole mess and went to town to get home at 2 AM.
Went up to get clean my gear and racked up and just kept on climbing using my rap anchor as pro. Proved to myself that this was not impossible for me to climb and slung a chockstone and rapped and cleaned this pitch.
I had to go back a month later and solo this again and did both pitches of this climb and had a blast doing it. Even brought my new hammer and the start of my pin rack to protect the runnout easy fifth class of pitch one.
Cannot say it was not embarrasing but I am alive and humbled, and both of these things are good.
Bob
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Tarbuster
climber
right here, right now
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Nov 24, 2006 - 03:16pm PT
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Nice Bob,
Here's the sweet still point in your story:
"Had mother nature soothe me by letting some cow elk pass under me in the dalk. Elk are very vocal when in a group and they meandered by for quite, mewing all the way by."
These are really good reads.
So far, for me, Scared Silly's Denali rescue and Jello's shoe-lace-tread-through-the-arm-bivi-tie-in compliment all the other fine entrees.
I didn't know Mugs personally in the way that a few of us here did; I met him in JTree once on a cold day and he was having fun on the rock with a nice blonde woman.
The friends I have who knew him well really miss him.
Has there been a Mugs thread?
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healyje
Trad climber
Portland, Oregon
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Nov 24, 2006 - 07:31pm PT
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Yes, my partner Jim Tangen-Foster rescued me once on a short Pete's Pile route near Mt. Hood. He was out for a visit and we hadn't climbed together in years. Unfortunately I was still coming off of one of the bad extended bouts of pnemonia I seem prone to and got way ahead of myself. About halfway up the sun started on us hard and I almost immediately went into a heat/dehydration state I've never experienced before or since that basically incapacitated me in a delirium. Jim all but carried and winched me up the rest of the route and got me down in one piece.
He's also rescued us a number of times by firing off a pitch during one epic or another where we weren't getting out alive if one of us didn't do the next pitch and we both knew it wasn't going to happen if he didn't do it. I'm a serious technician and too much of a thinker sometimes whereas Jim is full-on warrior stock. It's a sight to behold when he goes into deep animal juju and basically onsights and free solos stuff in full survival mode. He's pretty much always been a hero for me whenever I needed one and I've likely not ever said thank you quite as often as he has deserved to hear it from me.
Funny, I never knew Kevin Donald from climbing. He was my broker when I bought the "Wind Chapel" up in Hood River and only know him from windsurfing. But at Rooster Rock beach I once saw him do a gymnastic move where, on his hands, he put his body parallel to the ground at elbow height and then pressed into a handstand from that position and then came back down to that levered position. And that was when he was in his forties, he is burly strong guy that's for damn sure.
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Brutus of Wyde
climber
Old Climbers' Home, Oakland CA
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Nov 24, 2006 - 08:47pm PT
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circa 1994...
Funny how the end of the day kind of snuck up on us like that. We had been climbing in the shade of the huge corner since early afternoon, the sun’s passage across the sky invisible to us. The climbing had been so difficult, challenging, engrossing, and so much darn fun that, although we didn’t actually lose track of time, the passing of the hours seemed without consequence, with so many other more immediate, and potentially fatal, consequences all around us.
I joined John Byrnes on the last belay below the top of Washington Column, secure in the thought that we were about to complete one of the most difficult climbs of our lives. As the twilight deepened, I dug into the daypack for the headlamp.
Hmmm. Can’t seem to find the headlamp. John, where’d you put the headlamp? I thought you brought the headlamp John says and we look at each other as the night deepens and our grins become at first unsure then fade completely as we start realizing that things might get serious here for a bit.
A year earlier I had adopted the habit of carrying a tiny, triple-A Maglight on my harness, having experienced one too-many night fights when a haul pack was dropped at Lovers Leap, late in the day, headlamps and warm gear tucked safely inside it.
I switch on this penlight, put it between my teeth, and John puts me on belay. Total darkness now, except the tiny circle of light cast by the stupid penlight. Start to climb. The pitch starts out casual, a nifty little romp up a 30-foot pinnacle.
Then the business begins. Frayed cables from mashed copperheads stick out of the rock. The few fixed pins look like examples of bad placements from one of Largo’s books, the eyes of the pins a long, long way from the rock. Tied off, they might hold body weight. If you happen to be an emaciated dwarf.
Stars twinkling overhead. Slight breeze chills through the previously-sweat-soaked shirts. We each have a windbreaker in the day pack, but a bivy here, so close to the top, would be more than unpleasant. Door #1 looks downright miserable in fact.
What are our other options?
Plan A was to try free climbing this 5.10d poorly protected face with a penlight in my mouth. The longer I stand on this pinnacle, the less desirable a proud free ascent seems. Finally, I could try to aid the pitch. Upon reconsideration, I choose “Door Number Three.”
A couple of A0 moves bring me to the end of the fixed gear, facing unprotected ground between me and freedom, between where we are and where we want to be. I stand on the highest pin, searching for options. I don't want to be here any more Stop whining you baby and just do the moves What about the bad landing below; the upcoming bivy (Door Number 1) will be a lot less pleasant with a broken ankle and the crap gear giggles at me, mocking me, and Door Number Three is slamming in my whimpering face just as I hear a “Haloooo!” from the summit.
Inez Drixelius and Greg Opland, our support party, have just topped out on Royal Arches. Another climber, a friendly soloist fresh off the Prow, stops to help as well.
An hour or two later, headlamps on our heads, the last pitch freed in the dark (with a top-rope!) we are chowing candybars and guzzling gatorade, crawling into bivy sacks, and talkin’ smack around one of the biggest summit bivy fires I’ve ever seen.
Morning comes eventually, and we romp down North Dome Gully, Astroman (and our rescue from the same) behind us.
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mooser
Trad climber
seattle
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Nov 24, 2006 - 10:16pm PT
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Mike Graham and Rick Accommazo are my heroes, man! It was Spring of '75 (I was a junior in high school), and we decided to do the Left Ski Track of Tahquitz (a whopping 5.5d), and it had snowed buttloads the night before. The only face that looked good was the Southeast Face (not to mention that the skills we had only enabled us to climb that particular route, anyway!), and it looked reasonably clear.
We got to the belay stance at the top of the first pitch, and the clouds and snow hit us fast and hard (we didn't really see 'em coming). We rapped off, though our 150' goldline didn't quite reach the huge ledge at the bottom of the pitch. We downclimbed the first several moves of the pitch onto what was still a pretty icy surface from the previous night's freeze. Our last guy, Bill, slipped once he was off the end of the rap, and literally proceeded to carthwheel through the air (all in slow mo). By the time he stopped near the lip of the next ledge, his ankle was snapped clean sideways--the sole of his foot pointing out straight to the right. Nasty!
We found and retrieved one of the litters that is always lashed to one of the trees nearby, strapped him in, and started yelling around semi-frantically for anyone else who might be in the area. I mean, really, what exactly were we newbies gonna do from our perch? Tell his wife, "Sorry he froze to death, but you should be comforted in knowing that he was lashed into the litter real good"? As it turns out, Mike and Rick had just been snowed off their attempted FFA of Green Arch, and heard our yells (immediately recognizable, I'm sure, by anyone associated with SAR). They went into emergency mode, and started taking care of business--not once even hinting that we were as lame and unprepared as we felt! Two very gracious and competent guys!
Meanwhile, as I was busy trying to pull one end of our goldline down from the rap, it got stuck. My older "mentor" friend said that since I was the lightest, I should jug up into the dense fog/mist/cloud until I could get to where it was stuck, and then liberate it (you couldn't actually even see the other end of the rope anymore). I couldn't remember reading anything in R.R.'s Basic or Advanced Rockcraft suggesting that approach, and I started wondering if, at 17, I had anything of value to bequeathe anyone. Now'd be the time to mention it, for sure. Couldn't think of a dang thing. I fixed the jumars to the rope, but also thought I felt a timely surge of adreneline coming on. I suggested we try one more "all together now" pull on the rope, and it finally came free. Thank you, God!! There was, after all, only one litter nearby, and it was already taken.
All this time, Mike and Rick (and another partner of theirs whose name, unfortunately, I can't remember) made doubly sure Bill was snug as a bug in the litter. The next thing I knew we were all lowering Bill, the litter, and Mike and Rick over the edge to the snowfield below. They were like synchronized swimmers in how smoothly they pulled it off, except...well...you know, they weren't in water...they were on rock.
Anyway, we carried Bill down the Devil's Slide through pretty deep snow, and eventually got him whisked off to a hospital somewhere. I wanted to puke the rest of the afternoon, but it made for a great story at my high school the following week. Mike and Rick were a class act, and SuperTaco has afforded me the opportunity to thank them again (30 years later).
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Tarbuster
climber
right here, right now
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Nov 25, 2006 - 12:09am PT
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That's pretty good Brutus:
The last pitch of Astroman attempted by pen light. I distinctly remember getting up above those mank pegs and throwing a controlled 'mo for the good, yet at that time sort of crumbly holds.
Dan Michael & I did that in '80 and we got off OK, no assistance needed, but by the time we got out of North Dome gulley, we could have used your wee light. We did the whole descent to the Indian Caves in pitch black night, shuffling along through the boulders and leaves on our butts.
Yer right Mooser, those guys are jewels. I don't know who it was, but on my first real lead, The Trough at Taquitz, 5.1+, I rattled up past my opposed hexes onto lunch ledge and was greeted by one of that clan, who peered down upon my frazzled and twiggy frame as I crawled along the commodious ledge in search of an anchor: "Settle down little 'un, clip that pin and belay here, it's BOMBER!"...I felt like a mouse coaxed out of its trap.
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mooser
Trad climber
seattle
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Nov 25, 2006 - 06:18pm PT
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Experiences like these make it really hard to harsh on other newbies, eh? We all started somewhere. Getting rescued is good for the soul.
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Turok
Trad climber
Hood River, Oregon
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Greetings Jello!
It brings a smile to my face to read this candid account of your winter of 1975 solo attempt of Red Garden Wall in Eldorado Springs. It is truly a humorous anecdote. If I may, I will fill-in a bit of back story. After meeting you on the trail as you jogged-up to solo the route, I continued down to have dinner with your brother Mike at the Barber Homestead house. After dinner Mike and I decided to attend evening classes in Debauchery 101 70's Style at the Dark Horse Saloon as we did 6 nights a week. We figured that you would want to matriculate as well. Anyway, I had mentioned to Mike during dinner that I had met you on the trail and that If you were not back soon after dark that you would most likely be sitting in the cave at the start of the "nubbin head-wall" pitch. He was not overly concerned because of the moderate 5.8 rating of the route. I had not climbed with you much at that point but suffice it to say you had arrived in Eldo with your reputation for boldness intact. Even so, attempting to solo a route you had never climbed, after sunset in the impending darkness of a January night in Colorado, wearing naught but a T-shirt and stand-up shorts, was in fact bold, but somewhat "problematic". I had soloed this route a few times when it was dry, sunny and warm and the head wall pitch at the end of the route, nearly a thousand feet above the river, always puckered my lips that can't whistle. I remember thinking: "perhaps all the hype about this guy is true, maybe he's not only a great climber but has pamplemousse for balls and extraordinary night vision" But...sure enough when Mike and I stood at the base of the Bastille and shined my headlamp up into the darkness, we heard your unflappable call from high above in the inky darkness, the tone of which said: "I'm just fine but a bit lonesome". We had a rope and rack with us so we climbed up the descent route, and I rapped down to the cave. Viola! The shaft of my head lamp pierced the darkness and found in the back of the cave hanging from your shoe strings and looking like an oversized, white-furred bat, all goose bumps, smiles and sincere thank you's. Mike and I never thought to tease you. Never entered our minds to do so. We were all friends and you hadn't made a "mistake", you had had an "adventure". Personally I'm glad I didn't tease you because then you might not have dragged my neophyte ass up so many lovely ice climbes in Ouray and Telluride.
By the way, have you ever shared the story of how David left the entire rack on a ledge at the base of the off-size crack on your route "Rockin Ice" on Bridal Veil Falls?
Best wishes!
Turok
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Jello
Social climber
No Ut
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Topic Author's Reply - Jan 6, 2007 - 08:21pm PT
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Hey Kevin-
Great to hear from you! Are you still up in HR? Lot of water under the bridge since the old Eldo days, but I wouldn't trade them for the world. I think I'll try to find some of the photos from those early Ouray days, since it's winter, and post up some ice climbing stuff. I'll leave the Bridalveil story to David, since it's more his than mine.
If you're ever passing through Ogden, give a holler. It would be great to see you.
-Jeff
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healyje
Trad climber
Portland, Oregon
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Hi Kevin - welcome to ST...
BTW Kevin was my broker in Hood River when I arrived there in '87 and turned me on to the 'Wind Chapel' even though it was a sale by the owner. I still don't know whether to thank him or give him grief for that one, but I wouldn't have the life I do without wandering through that episode. Oddly, while I've windsurfed with him quite a bit, we've never climbed together.
Mark Hudon is up there in Hood River as well, along with a few others I believe. So Kevin, are you climbing still or open to climbing again?
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Maysho
climber
Truckee, CA
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One week in June, 1978, I turned 16, got a car and drove to Colorado alone to meet up with a new partner in C. Springs for a month of climbing. After some classic routes at Turkey Tail, Eldo, and Pikes Peak we headed north to the Needles of South Dakota. My companions (names changed slightly to protect the not so innocent) were Leonard Coin and Jeff Acne. One day I decided to have my first experience with psychoactive substances and some dried peyote buttons were procured for the purpose. After the initial gut wrenching cramps, I started feeling pretty good, well lets say really good, and Leonard and I took off for some soloing on the easier spires. We did a couple then I headed up something rated 5.7 with a very small summit. All of a sudden I did not want to down climb. I felt good perched on the top, but did not want to reverse the moves. I asked Leonard to get me a rope and climb the adjacent spire. He borrowed a rope from a group of Military dudes practicing nearby, soloed up and tossed me a line to tie in, after which I easily downclimbed to the ground. The military dudes had gathered around to watch me get rescued. Surrounded by the beefy troop of earnest beginners, and super high, I felt really self-conscious, and felt that an explanation was in order, “yo, I come from Yosemite and I am a really good climber usually, but today I ate some peyote buttons so I didn’t want to downclimb”. Their concerned faces stretched and flowed into expressions more hostile and I was like “thanks for the rope, see ya!”
Apologies to any family or students who might bump into this post, this was a long time ago…
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Turok
Trad climber
Hood River, Oregon
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Nice to hear from you Jeff and you as well Joe. Joe, your "wind chapel" is still one of the most unique and functional remodels of a church I have ever seen. Yes, Maureen, Bryce and I are still living in Hood River. We have managed to hold-on to our little rock house next to the stream in Eldorado so I climb when we are there.
By the way Jeff, I noticed an earlier post from Carrot Top (the Warbler) referring to the time I "rescued" him from Greg's Vulcan Death Grip. I can assure you that Greg's motivation was not malice but educational. He was just showing Carrot Top "a thing or two" about self defense.
Note: I originally posted a story here about seeing Greg use this Vulcan Death Grip technique in an altercation at a Boulder bar but after re-reading this morning I realized that it had nothing at all to do with climbing rescues... so I deleted it.
Best wishes,
Turok
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WBraun
climber
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"At this point the bouncers stepped-in and threw the biker out."
Biker now goes back to his rig and somehow snorts his last big line of meth to reload. That toke took him way over the line. He finds his trusty sawed-off shotgun and staggers back to the bar. He's confident now that he can redeem his bruised ego.
Oh oh .....
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Mimi
climber
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Glad this happened before meth got so popular.
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hashbro
Trad climber
Not in Southern California
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Dang, these are some mind-numbing stories. Roy, I was sweating just reading about you and the six and a half hours on the sparse little stance, smoking pipe loads and waiting for your rescue. I guess I’ll chime in one of our first Tahquitz experiences in the early 70’s, probably 73’.
Being young, naïve, impressionable and easily manipulated, my brother, Chris Robinson and I drove up to Tahquitz from Orange County sometime in November. We arrived and immediately descended upon the far more experienced Stonemasters up at “Stoners Ridge.” They were all there around the campfire; Largo, Accomazzo, Graham, Sorenson, Muir, Harrison and several others. Tobin, seeing an opportunity to ditch his younger brother Dibs, suggested that he accompany us on the He pointed out that we’d therefore have two teams of two, rather than an awkward team of three. Sounded good to us. “What route should we do,” we asked the big boys? “White Maiden’s Walkway said Harrison. I remember those words like an echo. “All you’ll need is a few runners,” he told us. He didn’t say anything about it being the longest route on the crag; we discovered that later.
Up early, Al, Chris and I were cruising, though it was close to the winter solstice. At the base, Dibs asked, “can we smoke those joints now.” “No dude” I said, “wait til the summit, we got some climbing to do.” The process was slow cuz we had only a single rack, and had to allow the second team to lead the pitch, before the first team could go again. Up a pitch and Dibs is asking the question again, but this time he sounds a bit shaky, “oh, oh, can we smoke those joints now.” The answer was the same and it was starting snow a bit. Another pitch up and suddenly Dibs announced he would no longer lead, or belay. He was freaked and he wanted to go down, which I totally supported. Unfortunately one member of our team, an overly optimistic member at that, asserted we could all make it. “Let’s just go he said,” so we went. I remember the sinking feeling in my belly as I looked up and noticed a lot more rock above us, than below.
Now with only three actual climbers and essentially Dibs to haul we found ourselves throwing the rope down from each stance. Being blocky as hell, the rope got stuck more than once and soon enough the sun slid behind the ridge. That sinking feeling just got even deeper. Then when Dib’s asked to smoke the joint I must have yelled at him and told him to shut up; temper’s were getting a bit frayed.
To make a long story short, my brother Al ended up doing a heroic lead in near darkness as we found ourselves off route, with ropes tangled and the temperatures dropping. After Al’s leader fall in the dark, we regrouped on a ledge. We were one pitch from the top.
Soon enough we realized that we were not prepared for a bivy in sweatshirts at 8,000 feet in November. When Dibs started yelling for “help,” we all realized that his lack of participation was finally forgiven. Hours passed as we shivering and cuddled intimately on the ice-cold ledge. Before long a train of flashlights worked their way up the trail to the summit. And then we heard a voice; it was Richard Harrison rappelling down the face. “Are we gonna jumar” we asked. “No” said Richard, “John (Long) is gonna belay you. Belay my ass. Largo hauled us up the last hundred feet of slabs. We could maintain our equilibrium as the big man yanked and lurked, with each one we’d ride a solid ten feet; mostly on no raw hips and thighs.
Though the rescue bruised our egos and our flesh, the experience was life changing and eye opening. I now knew what not to do, who not to do it with and whom I could call on if the sh#t ever does hit the fan.
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BrentA
Gym climber
Roca Rojo
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Fryguy's 1000 foot tumble got swept under the rug on this thread...lol.
I watched the guy he was with get choppered off the top of El Cap after he had fallen on the last pitch of Space.
Punk ass stuck me with hauling all his stuff down...lol.
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eeyonkee
Trad climber
Golden, CO
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Sheesh Hashbro, you should have just given in to smoking the joint...seems like it was a simple request. I remember meeting Dibbs at Tahquitz once. Somehow your story fits with my memory of him. Good to hear from you on ST again. And great stories all -- particularly Jello's original.
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deuce4
Big Wall climber
the Southwest
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One time I suddenly fired off the first part of the notorius Changebox in Hidden Valley Campground, then quickly proceeded up to the final 5.10a move, which really shouldn't have been any problem, but it was so loose and friable (prolly because it rarely got done), that I hesitated for a long while (20 feet off the ground). Soon, there was a crowd of 20 people watching me (it is right at the entrance to the campground). Not wanting to spalt as a public spectacle, finally I cried uncle and Mike Paul and Lechlinski rescued me with a toprope for the final move. Thrilling!
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