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wtfd
climber
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Dec 13, 2008 - 04:31am PT
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As a beginner, I decided that guide books were for pussies, and any situation I got myself into, I could get myself out of...time and experience sure does offer better solutions, but hell, youth and the firm belief that it wont happen to me, sure made for an exciting adventure..., so off I go on a route that`s 2 number grades harder than my redpoint limit, so I set a solid nut far below a bulge and off I go only to realize someone had been there before and greased the clipping stance like a wheel bearing on a 84 dart (that gets you to and from just fine, tyvm) so as my grip oozed off like the grease down the chin of a truck driver at a the broken spoke, I desperately tickled the gate of the draw, barely pushing it the other way, Instead of clipping I dropped the rope, climbed up and re chalked, hung from the same desperate sloaper and up comes the rope again and right when I bobble my middle finger out of the bottom of the biner and had the rope rubbing up against the gate with nothing to push it against. ...Actual surprise HITS me and off I go....completely upside down, and mere inches before I show the biggest boulder in the immediate area, who's tougher, my naked head... or the dense stone,
My belay falls back on enough slack to pull me tight and my cantaloupe swings over the deaf tombstone, it should a been a scene from a Gallagher concert. God saves drunks and idiots, no lie... But that was when the fuel of an adventure was more important than the outcome, before visits to the hospital, to confirm that other people`s decisions were poor, and to firm the belief that drunk climbing was acceptable, as long as you didn't mix it with weed.
Go figure, life has brought me back to where I teach new climbers how to get up a route, and back down...without leaving so much as a week old gobi on the route or the DECK. Helmet clad newbies following me up the approach trail, to a spot where I should have been carried away in a litter. I smirk as I walk by, Everyone pushes their own limits, some have more to lose, some less...and I`m sure if you counted the times everyone on this board came close to pissing on god for no good reason, you would have a barrel of empty prayers, lying about how they would never climb again, would marry that chick and be done with this pointless endeavor....but no, Ive got the story about the booty blue alien, that saved both me and my best friend from a dirt nap, and somehow...that's the reason I keep coming back. That and the time a hanger fell off a route just because I tried to clip it, the anxious feeling and down climb, trying to reverse 10d slab, because the next bolt down cant be any better... Fresh from the hospital of a disfigured and handicapt partner, that will never climb again. The thought creeps in about how their decision process was faulty and the Monday morning quarterback session goes in circles till we adapt and stoop to pre placed bolts instead of falling back on the "skill" we developed, in order to get here in the first place. By the hair on my chinny chin chin I type this, I wouldn't have it any other way. I know there are other people that have the same disease, and cherry eyed around campfires, their stories, down to their lazer straight gaze, focused on that next piece of sh#t hold that hasn't fallen off the route, because nobody was stupid enough to go that way Yet for some reason, and i salute you, I'm compelled to do it again, once the shakes wear off, and the next day Ill be teaching this compulsion to yet another sport climber not willing to clip a bolt unless its above his knee...those plea`s with god, and the sweat that rolls off my cheek combined with the freshlly squirted tear, create the emotion I slice and dice the next important phase out of my life, that's what it is, that brings me back, year after year, squandered opportunity after excuse to climb. again and again,.,...till the sunf*#ked skin around my eyes tells a story, about living my life, like a bull ride, I`m not the boldest by far, my accomplishments are minuscule compared to a lot of climbers, but the distance between here and that next hold above that mainky nut unite us.
that or we both dont have anything else to do on a friday night.
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survival
Big Wall climber
A Token of My Extreme
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Topic Author's Reply - Dec 13, 2008 - 04:51am PT
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wtfd, holy buckets....well written!
hmmmmm..cheater, you've had special schooling in how to make it come out simple yet poetic...what is it?
well done, that's all I can say.
Bruce
Don, thanks for chiming in. You don't have to take all night, but me thinks you owe us a STORY!!
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east side underground
Trad climber
crowley ca
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Dec 13, 2008 - 11:16am PT
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In the early eighties, one of my first wall atemps was south face of the column. With my friends eric and bob we headed up.Eric led the kor roof, bob was cleaning, I was the third. Eric was hauling the bag, bob was cleaning and having trouble, he got frustrated to the point that he began yelling and cursing, and he finally went beserk. For some reason (beginners) bob had rigged one of his jugs to a chest harness, as he was lossing his mind, I yelled to him to relax and rap down and I would finish cleaning the pitch. He got hooked into his rapple, but in his haste he forgot to unhook his chest harness.So as he lowered he weighted the chest jug to the point he couldn't un-weight. The harness began to constrict his armpits serverly. This is where the real panic set in, he began to thrash about out of control. The haul line was already up, bob had the other rope hooked to his harness, eric was above over the roof, not knowing whats up. I grabed my jugs and headed up the rope. When I got to bob he was in pretty bad shape, his hands were constricted and he had very little color. He was still thrashing and kicking when I got there kicking me in the face as I tried to get him into one of my adiers. He could't function so out came the knife, I clipped into his rapple reached up and cut the webbing on his chest harness. It was scarey having the knife out around the heavyly tensioned rope. When the pressure was released, we spun around in space two guys on one rope and figure eight. Bob came around pretty quick when the blood began to flow again, He looked at me and said " were gonna die!" I'll never forget the look in his eye as we spun, I remember looking at half dome, hanging there thinking this might be it. But luck was on our side, we lowered down to the ledge ( giving me a nice burn on my arm from the heat of the rap device), eric came dowm and we lowered bob safely down to the ground.
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Michelle
Trad climber
El Frickin' Paso
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Dec 13, 2008 - 12:23pm PT
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Confident from having spent the past 2 years free soloing around sonora pass, I'm in the valley hanging out again. I was in great shape at the time and spent most of my time climbing. I was also more interested in finding strange and obscure places and the old forresta road is one of them. (used to bivy down there all the time, damn that stupid tree now!) anyways, I loved going down there and this one time, as I get to the forresta falls bridge, I notice the water flow is way down and the rock looks pretty snazzy. so, encouraged by my olde english friend and his girlfriend mary jane, I scamper up the left side and proceed in entertaining my current obsession. the climbing is easy and the location is cool, I'm feelin' great and life is good. I get to a point though about 3/4 the way up and im looking at this move that doesnt feel right. I contemplate this business for what seems like forever (I should research why smoke seems to alter time..) but really was only like a few minutes. I dont feel like downclimbing, up is a no-go and so I'm looking off left for an escape. Perfect! I see this glorious flake that is within reach. Now, climbing, especially soloing, for me is like vertical yoga - how can I move parts of my body without disrupting my weight distribution, etc. so I go into Reach for the Flake pose and just as my fingertips make contact, out go my feet! luckily, I was able to latch the flake but it was one of those deals where my feet slipped out and I waqs just hanging there until I could reset my feet. I had a moment of prayer there and then was able to easily get off and down to my car. I spent the rest of that day, and many subsequent others, in the meadow, with the flowers and butterflys. Alternately, I would sit in the ahwahnee main room knitting and drinking to avoid this thing called climbing.
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Don Lauria
Trad climber
Bishop, CA
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Dec 13, 2008 - 02:29pm PT
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I think WTFD is possibly the best writer on the forum.
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Anastasia
climber
Not here
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Dec 13, 2008 - 03:22pm PT
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I too had an epic in Ojai on the black wall. Those cracks seam a good place to practice new skills until you face the two pitch element of the climb. My stupid moment was similar. We ran out of rope, couldn't make it to the second anchors and the idiot I was relying on demanded we free climb across to the flood platform in order to get down. He had no other solution and the rest of us didn't know enough to create one for ourselves.
It is why I get picky about partners in my old age.
Then again, I look back and have to laugh. It is a great story and... There is something about being in moments where you know your risking everything. You know it is all wrong but you somehow stay calm and work towards surviving instead of wasting time arguing. You learn a whole lot about yourself, your partners and what not to do. I'm actually proud of those moments even though I was an idiot for being in those situations. I did learn...
AF
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survival
Big Wall climber
A Token of My Extreme
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Topic Author's Reply - Dec 14, 2008 - 12:52am PT
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eastside, michelle, anastasia,
Thanks for bringing it to the table. I'm glad you made it!!
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Rudder
Trad climber
Santa Rosa, CA
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Dec 14, 2008 - 01:12am PT
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Read a post above about a Double Cross fall. I've heard about many falls on that route for some reason. Anyway, I have alot of beginner stories from back in the day, but they'd take too long to type out... but one climbing day I always remember was years ago driving into the Hidden Valley campground. A guy peeling out of North Overhang caught my eye... no sooner was he coming onto the end of his rope another climber came off of Double Cross. He was flying head first to the bowl. I heard he died... but I never checked into it. Kinda a dubious start to my climbing day. :O
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WBraun
climber
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Dec 14, 2008 - 01:13am PT
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wtfd .... That was a hell of a two paragraph piece.
Bravo ..........
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neebee
Social climber
calif/texas
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Dec 14, 2008 - 01:19am PT
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hey there wtfd... wow... whewwwwwwwwwww... i have to echo werner on this one...
man, oh man...
well written, too...
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neebee
Social climber
calif/texas
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Dec 14, 2008 - 01:24am PT
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hey there anastasia... say, as to your quote:
"Then again, I look back and have to laugh. It is a great story and... There is something about being in moments where you know your risking everything. You know it is all wrong but you somehow stay calm and work towards surviving instead of wasting time arguing. You learn a whole lot about yourself, your partners and what not to do. I'm actually proud of those moments even though I was an idiot for being in those situations. I did learn... "
this is so true, even in situations that are not rock-climbing ones... you are pressing on to maturity, through life's hard work...
this is why we respect our elders...
soon, we ARE learning a lot about ourselves... and will hopefully one day be respected for it too...
thanks for the neat share...
and all you guys here, i got to get the time to read all these... this is really your hard-done treasure, hiding in here... very glad you all lived to reap this kind of treasure...
may the good lord keep watch over you all, too, throughout all your future steps...
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samg
Trad climber
SLC
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Dec 14, 2008 - 05:44am PT
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My first crazy experience was on a trip as a twelve year old kid to somewhere in southern Utah, I forget exactly where. During the first night there it was so nice out that I decided to sneak out on my own and scramble around on the sandstone in the bright desert moonlight. Normally quite a fun activity, at least it always has been to me.
So I started traversing more than climbing out on a ledge system over some big sandstone slabs to some more slabs up higher. It was a hell of a fun time so I had to climb up those slabs once I got there. Midway up, and way up above those lower slabs, a hold broke and I had one of those slab moments where it feels like you are off but somehow you stick to it at the last moment. Well, you slide more before you stick in sneakers...
It was at that time that I became acutely aware that I was a couple hundred of feet up a sandstone cliff with some good size ledges to hit and tumble over on the way down, that the stuff under my feet and the stuff I had to grab would easily crumble and break, it was a whole lot steeper than it looked from below, and that my shoes were slipping on this stuff... in short, all of the things I already knew in the back of my head but had kind of blocked out in the moment- the fact that I had almost slid right off, just a hair away from death, brought all of that very much into focus.
I've always felt very at home in the desert, especially as a kid. But at that moment the moonlight on the sandstone below was as vicious and cold of a sight as I've seen. I was much too ashamed for getting myself into a situation that I couldn't get out of to think about calling for help. Besides, what could anyone besides me do to get me out of there? So, heart in my throat, I worked my way off. It wasn't easy going either. Neither was the shameful walk back to camp.
This story would have probably given my parents a heart attack if they ever found out. They'd always trusted me to take care of myself, probably because I would wander off so much. I guess I've always honored that even if many times just barely.
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hossjulia
Trad climber
Eastside
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Dec 14, 2008 - 12:31pm PT
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I started climbing when I could walk. Too bad some nasty diversions in my teens threw me off rock climbing until I was 22.
Mom told me, after I told her about my first "real" rock-climb, that she was always pulling me down off stuff as a small kid. I would point at rock formations on road trips and exclaim, "Look at those Rocks!!!!" When I got a little older, 8-12, I used to escape into trees for hours. Until the day I saw my brother, trying to reach me at the top of the tree, crash through the branches of an old Cottonwood to land flat on his back on the ground. Before I could shimmy down in horror, he jumped up and ran in the house bawling to Mom. I'm guessing he fell close to a hundred feet, it was a fully mature tree. He was fine. Anyway, lost my nerve for tree climbing after that. I was 12.
Next place we lived was right on the street fronting the Santee Boulders. Bro and I would go out there and climb around on these rocks, having great fun. Only time we seemed to play nice together.
Then one day, we were being a tad competitive, he decides he can run at Moby Dick and make it the top. Just go fast before you slip he says after he gets up there. It took a couple of tries, but man, it worked! Cool, we were now on top of the biggest rock out here, watching the sun getting low. Uh oh. How do we get down?????? I figured out in about 2 seconds we would die if we tried to reverse the moves. I immediately broke down and cried for my mommy. But before I could get too worked up, bro sees a couple of guys walking out there with packs. He's seen them before, they are ROCK CLIMBERS! They can save us! So we start yelling. They couldn't have missed us, we stuck up above their practice aid cliff. Pretty easy to tie a rope around our waists and have us walk off a lot like we got up. 1973.
Fast forward to 1985. I discovered roped climbing in Colorado 3 years previous, and have moved back to San Diego with a new baby. But I don' think I had led much to that point, besides the first pitch of Calypso.
So after much talk about how spoiled we were and how awful it would be, but worse if we did nothing but boulder, we decided to check out The Gorge. First climb we see is a chimney, 5.6 I think? Looks easy to me, I couldn't figure out why the guys were hemming and hawing about who would lead this so I said I'd lead it. How hard could it be to shimmy your way up a good chimney?
Well, it wasn't that hard, but there was like, NO PRO! And by the time I got to the top, I was sketch! Shaking, spent. Belly flop onto top. I basically soloed it with the rope.
And I think I was faced with setting an anchor on top too. Something I barely knew how to do on vertical rock. So I just hip belayed my ex up. (This part is fuzzy, maybe there were bolts.)
Everyone thought it was a bold lead. And me, being the good Marine brat I was, agreed!
It was a stupid lead that scared me enough to avoid leading for a long, long time. Not consciously, not at all. It has taken me years to figure this out. Every time I was faced with the sharp end, I would suddenly not feel well, or start shaking. Maybe I smoked too much as an excuse too, not sure. But now I can look back and see where my ambivalence about leading came from. Combined with my chickenshit tendencies, it was enough.
I've tried toughing it out, works but leaves me sick. I'm not that tough. Prolly too tough on my belayers as well.
And as my strength has faded 2-3 grades in 2 years, it is even more intimidating to take the lead. And now I have this desire to do nothing but. I find myself avoiding climbing until I feel strong enough to lead, but I have to climb to get strong again.
I am just so sick of being the belayer.
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survival
Big Wall climber
A Token of My Extreme
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Topic Author's Reply - Dec 14, 2008 - 03:52pm PT
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Hang in there hossjulia,
the great challenge is dealing with our own mind.
You can do it......
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wtfd
climber
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Dec 14, 2008 - 08:47pm PT
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is the sarchasm thick in here or what? yall dont have to make fun of me just cause it looks like i tried...damn, truth be told i kinda felt like a jackass after telling some kid what I thought of his consistant spray about what was going on in the lake district in england...I guess everyone has their own breaking point. and was it survivor that was clowning me about school? I dropped out of high school about halfway through and havent been back since probably would a taken care of that issue if the monkey on my back wasnt always clawing at my neck...
The whipper I was talking about was insignificant, I dont know why I even brought it up. whats that saying, theres old climbers and bold climbers...I was dumb, and now im a pussy.
someone else brought up a story about climbing while being a kid, and it reminded me of a trip we took to montana when I was probably no more than 9.
so, a nature loving kid, having grown up on a ranch in san diego, got a chance to go to big sky county! wtf, isnt the sky the same size everywhere? I think those montucky folk have their own brand of either, madanuskan thunderf*#k, or incest. (no offence) so, this was a long time ago but i distinctly remember the feeling in the pit of my stomach, after a REALLY UNEVENTFULL week at my dads buddies place...in the middle of nowhere on the fourth of july, we wound up fishing for nothing in a cesspool out somewhere, after the 3rd hour of catching record sized moss I was more interested in exploring the area, come to think of it my pop probably wanted to catch up with his friend over a beer without being pestered by the rantings of troubled 9 year old....
so off i go, headed twards wherever it is inside a 9 year old kids head that makes them go play hide and go be irritating somewhere else. I have no idea about any of this, as i dont remember any of it, the thing i do remember is climbing 10 feet up the chossiest pile not only in all of montana, but all of the northern half of the states` piles. What was supposed to be a big time waster, turned me on to my lifes persuit. I learned to test holds that day as the start of the route was 10 feet higher after i climbed this thing, thinking back the pile couldnt have been 30 feet, and probably lower angle than the road into josh...but none of that matters. I distinctly remember turning around and thinking about asking for help, but wtf were two drunk fishermen gona do to help out a mountain climber? more than likely i had some wierd vision of a mexican tenzing norgay character worked out, and not even sir edmond hillary himself could kill me....truth be told I think i actualy had an "accident" I was so scared, but that`s a different story,
"the tale of the missing left sock" but anyways, too scared to go down, as I thought I would fall to my death, and too scared to go up, as I thought if the rock was anything up there like it was down lower, there was a good chance good old juan-pedro the solo artist was gona meet his maker, probably due to a pair of blown out addidas, obviously my moms poor choice for a shoe for a mountain climber, all the fun was gone halfway up the route and straight up I swam in a sea of panic and mortal terror, you know the feeling, you feel sick but you dont know which way the vomit would go if you let it escape that cauldrin of churning death in the pit of your soul. nonetheless, I latched on to that final jug, and didnt even test it as I figured Id climb it and get over the top even if it did come off in my prepusent annoying little hands. on top of that insignifficant little pile of rocks held together with an attitude you would cross the street to avoid coming face to face with. I cowered in a corner, and I vowed to never do anything even as remotely idiotic, as what I just got away with a pass from jesus christ himself, EVER AGAIN! I distinctly remember that part, i didnt dare tell the tale either, figured pop woulda killed me just to make sure i wouldnt do something so wreacklessly underthought and insignificantly dangerous...for no reason at all...hell, i coulda been watching cartoons in my pijamas. we all have our moments, thank something...somewhere we found the "skill" to make it out of our little accidents without paying up, way too early.
I actualy started writing my other paragraph on mountain project under the thread "that feeling" and it got so under my skin that i had to bring it over here too. those colorado folk were nice though, they didnt even push it in my face, probably figured i spent too much time at the bar and let it go...Im suprised there arent more "no sh#t, there I was" stories, then again, who actualy wants to admit being the guy that almost didnt live because he was too dumb to take advice, too stupid to admit they were wrong and with enough time to not need directions, cause Ive got all damn day to drive around to get somewhere i really didnt want to show up on time for anyway...ahh, adventure.
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MisterE
Trad climber
My Inner Nut
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Dec 14, 2008 - 09:49pm PT
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This is great - I love the foibles of Newdom.
I decided i wanted to aid climb in bad rock, and I was fortunate enough to be living in Eastern Oregon. I had walked by "Toes of the Fisherman" many times on my regular forays to Wortley's Revenge, which I had wired to 4 pieces of gear. I thought, in my unconceiving mind, that aiding a rarely-done 5.13 that overhangs 20 feet in the first 35 feet, was a good idea.
Plus there was this nice slab below in the sun to lay out all my gear and look cool as the folks walk by me on their way to points West. I have a new rope, a 10mm, and I fix that to a solo static anchor below the chill spot. I am Bad, nobody ever get's on this thing and I got a shiteree of gear laid out on the slab for all to see.
As I begin to aid up the overhang, I start to understand that the elements may not be in my favor: Static anchor, going as horizontal as vertical on solo-aid, but the fire of n00b enthusiasm consumed me.
So much so, that I was clipping above me as I moved past a bomber #8 chouinard placement.
Sadly, it was my first effort with my new Lowe-Balls, and I hadn't yet learned that you cannot shift on these things!
I learned fast as I ripped that and a blue tcu - from 30 feet out onto a fixed belay with a modified Gri-Gri.
I welded the #8, and found myself splayed out from my harness rope-catch. I rocked just a little forward and my feet touched the slab that I had so proudly laid my gear out on.
I twisted sideways, and saw that the point of the rock was no more than a foot away from the direct line of my lower back.
With rope stretch, well...there wasn't much rope out, thankfully for me, but bad for the rope.
I got back on it, and didn't shift. It was rough, but I needed my gear! This time, I was careful - and tied into the OTHER end of my rope...
thinking - Factor 2 fall on new rope.
I could reach but not extract the #8. It saved my ass, so I left it.
I finished the pitch, retrieved my gear, and got the Hell out.
I wasn't sure if I should retire the rope, I was always afraid I would forget which end had taken the Hard Fall.
The issue resolved itself two days later.
We went to Northern Point for a day, and I forgot to lock my van...
guess what was stolen?
Haha!
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survival
Big Wall climber
A Token of My Extreme
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Topic Author's Reply - Dec 14, 2008 - 10:02pm PT
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wtfd,
I definitely was not teasing in any way. It is your turning of a phrase that so caught my attention. I can almost hear the wheels turning, and there was a touch of sarcasm, light hearted humor, black humor, dry wit and some real poetry all crammed in there together.
My writing is kind of like my guitar playing. It's very often in the correct places, but kind of plain and unimaginative....
A very good old friend of mine on the other hand, plays very chaotic..jamming bending tweaking, all over the chart. But there are times when he gets more soul out of one measure than I can get out of a whole song. That's kind of what I meant about your first story..super.
Luckily, my climbing is better than my writing or my guitar playing....
Thanks for joining in.
Bruce
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survival
Big Wall climber
A Token of My Extreme
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Topic Author's Reply - Dec 14, 2008 - 10:08pm PT
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Nice Mr E, I was raised up on Oregon mud too!
You should've gone for Abraxas or Soft Shoe Ballet...
That's where we cut our teeth in the bad ol' days!
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MisterE
Trad climber
My Inner Nut
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Dec 14, 2008 - 10:16pm PT
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Thamks Survival -it helps with the AZ sandstone
Man, that story before mine wipes the slate.
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survival
Big Wall climber
A Token of My Extreme
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Topic Author's Reply - Dec 14, 2008 - 10:58pm PT
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Yeah man, wtfd has a way with words.
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