Discussion Topic |
|
This thread has been locked |
Todd Eastman
climber
Bellingham, WA
|
|
|
May 21, 2009 - 01:59am PT
|
We are climbers, our sport is in part based on climbing but from that, grows the friendships, loves, stories, and legends that are what climbing means to us. Thanks to all for your contributions and memories.
|
|
Mighty Hiker
Social climber
Vancouver, B.C.
|
|
|
May 21, 2009 - 02:06am PT
|
Roper's Camp 4 says (pp 156 - 157): "Pratt had names for some of the distinctive bears that called Camp 4 home. Beauregard, Spartacus, Caligula, Lancelot, and the looming El Cid. These animals were clever enough - or satiated enough - not to make forays every night; sometimes they would lie low for a week and then catch us badly off guard, destroying our possessions. To this problem we addressed ourselves often, plotting and scheming. Sometimes we would tree a poor bear and, with well-directed rocks, force it to stay up for hours, peeing and panicked. This did little good and we really didn't enjoy the torture. One evening TM Herbert had endured enough. He sat patiently atop the Wine Traverse Boulder cradling a huge rock, waiting for El Cid, who often ambled by this particular boulder at dusk. Sure enough, along cam the creature and down crashed the stone onto Cid's skull. A perfect knockout strike! A small "click" resulted; El Cid looked around, shook his massive head twice, and then waddled into camp to see what was cooking."
Then he tells a story about a non-climber catching and skinning a bear in the boulders behind Camp 4.
These are the sorts of tales that grow in the telling, and are all the better for it.
|
|
Don Lauria
Trad climber
Bishop, CA
|
|
|
May 21, 2009 - 02:12am PT
|
Finally ... I knew it wasn't Spartacus - it was El Cid!
I guess it's whoever told the story first.
|
|
guido
Trad climber
Santa Cruz/New Zealand/South Pacific
|
|
|
May 21, 2009 - 04:43am PT
|
Now, Pratts hospital episode, after falling off the car, while drinking too much beer, and ending up in the hospital under the care of the talented Dr Sturm and his able staff, just wasn't all that BAD. There were some great perks in the old hospital, with antiquated paraphernalia such as circa 40's wheel chairs more a curiousity than a problem, but, "oh la la", the nurses were something to die for. Fortunately we did not, but, for many of us who spent time there,(Powell, Roper myself,Kamps, etc.......) recuperating from downward bound flings, whether auto or granite born we had an interesting experience. Alas, you can see why Chuck was reluctant to check out before complete recovery was certified or the smuggled beer depleted.
|
|
Jan
Mountain climber
Okinawa, Japan
|
|
|
May 21, 2009 - 05:45am PT
|
DR-
Thanks for the Thailand info. That really helps complete the circle for me. Interesting how all three of us from that winter in Boulder and summer in the Valley got interested in Buddhism but at different times and different ways. If I find out that Tom Gerughty got interested too, that will make it unaminous for the Camp 4 regulars of 1965.
|
|
Roger Breedlove
climber
Cleveland Heights, Ohio
|
|
|
May 21, 2009 - 08:34am PT
|
Hi Jan,
The connection between Buddhism and rock climbing is grounded in "flow," the mental state that can be achieved by both Buddhist meditation and rock climbing, especially the sort of "quiet" style practiced by Chuck. Climbing has been identified as one of the few activities that creates ‘flow’ and any climber who has experienced it—it is additive—and had any interest in religious (speaking loosely) contemplation would gravitate towards Buddhist contemplation practices. A large proportion of Valley regulars, at least in the early seventies, practiced Buddhism of one sort or another. "The Three Pillars of Zen," edited by Kapleau was a common sight. It also provided the name for Phil Bircheff's brilliant route, "The Third Pillar," on the Dana Plateau.
It is interesting that Chuck may have taken an interest in Buddhism later in life. I don't remember him having any truck with any established method of thought--a "beat" baby--when I knew him. We never discussed it as far as I remember, and Chuck was disdainful, in private, in any ‘imposed’ religiosity or ‘secret’ meaning to anything. That said, Chuck was also disdainful of speed climbing because for him it disrupted the flow and ‘flow’ of climbing: “It takes as long as it takes.”
On the other hand, in Thailand, I can imagine Chuck being close friends with a Buddhist Priest would then, naturally, project Buddhist thought onto Chuck's calmness and quietness, both of which are Buddhist traits. I also suspect that Chuck probably lost his mocking sense of his life and just focued on the tasks at hand, which is the point of Buddism, even if it is not called that. (In good faith, a Tibetan Buddhist priest projected his tenets onto my sister after her death. But my sister had no beliefs to support it.)
(Of course these are all idle observations on a sunny early morning.)
I would not be surprised if Tom would have gravitated towards Buddhist thought. I wish we could locate Tom and get him to join in.
Hey Joe, nice socks.
Cool to know that Chuck clobbered Spartacus and TM clobbered El Cid. I wonder who clobbered Grendel?
I am in the middle of reading Fagle’s translation of the ‘The Iliad.” Idle time. Our history should only be told in the same style, preferably written by Ryan (yo).
|
|
Peter Haan
Trad climber
San Francisco, CA
|
|
|
May 21, 2009 - 09:20am PT
|
Rog,
As usual you are skirting the issue and we are not impressed. How many times can you read "rosy-fingered dawn", "swift-footed Achilleus" and his other epithets and still go with Homer on this tale? You probably even have the papyrus edition.
|
|
Jan
Mountain climber
Okinawa, Japan
|
|
|
May 21, 2009 - 09:41am PT
|
Roger-
I agree that Buddhism, at least as it is often interpreted in America through Zen, goes very well with rock climbing. What interested me was the idea that Chuck might finally have become interested in it. As you say, he was disdainful of formal religion or secret meanings in the early days, and from what I could make out, regarded our peyote experience as just an interesting entertainment whereas Chris and I (and many others) would relate psychedelics to the beginning of a serious search.
It's possible that the Buddhist priest extrapolated from Chuck's personality or also possible that Chuck had some very interesting thoughts and conversations with him about Buddhist philosophy in his later years. It's one thing to experience a new philosophy as a novelty and another to see it as part of an ancient and organic way of life. Few who live in Asia for a long time fail to incorporate at least some of the indigenous mind set.
This was of course one of the many things I hoped to discuss with Chuck when we ever got together again, in part because I too would like to try to balance the individual freedom of the great American outdoors with the more complex philosophical traditions of Asia. Living with the Sherpas provides both, but becomes harder to do as one gets older and needs more amenities. Thailand looks like a good alternative.
Meanwhile, I could believe that the Buddhist priest saw Chuck as a kind of Boddhisattva because he observed that many people in Thailand as in the U.S., sought him out in order to sort themselves out. Chuck had a wonderful gift of talking to you and leading you to your own self hidden conclusions. And of course Boddhisattvas don't necessarily have to be Buddhists. Personally I think Chuck fits very well with the crazy wisdom Boddhissatvas of the Tibetan tradition.
As for bears, I vote for the rock throwing incident to have involved Chuck and El Cid.
|
|
Steve Grossman
Trad climber
Seattle, WA
|
|
|
May 21, 2009 - 09:53am PT
|
I have to side with Peter if I can stop laughing...Climbing history is closer to the script of "It' a Mad, Mad World" or, if only the classical will do, "A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum" than anthing Homer would care to concoct. LOL
|
|
Jan
Mountain climber
Okinawa, Japan
|
|
|
May 21, 2009 - 10:01am PT
|
Speak for yourself!
Some people took it seriously.
(Back in the primeval times when the gods still walked the earth).
|
|
Peter Haan
Trad climber
San Francisco, CA
|
|
|
May 21, 2009 - 10:46am PT
|
Make no mistake, Jan. Steve Grossman, with more than two dozen El Cap ascents and a full life of great excellence, is personally completely serious. However his comment above is simply that our collective history is chaotic and has many fascinating characters running into all kinds of trouble in high drama.
|
|
Roger Breedlove
climber
Cleveland Heights, Ohio
|
|
|
May 21, 2009 - 10:57am PT
|
Story #3a. (Repeated just as I've always heard it with zero to minimal embellishment.)
Back in the day, as the earth cooled, Camp 4 was peopled by two sorts of wild beasts:
the climbers, led by Royal Rockwalker, lord of walls, son of Salathe, born of Hephaestus
and the five-foot shaggie Chewinard; son of Salathe, born of Hephaestus, pounder of chromium steel.
These climbers shared the Valley floor with the bears of the forest, sons of Ares, garbage eaters all,
led by their immortal king Spartacus, the size of nine Volkswagens, raging across the Valley floor,
gaining strength as a cub by snacking on Miwoks and, when he roared, opened the cracks of
Sentinel which bore the modern age of Salathe with Steck, his let’s-just-have-a-look sidekick.
Climbers and bears co-existed on the Valley floor for centuries. The climbers plucked many a
cherry line created by the roars of bears, who raged the Valley floors, garbage eaters all.
Amongst the bears lived the god like, El Cid, who taught his kin the arts of stealing snacks and
the razing climber’s camps, waging their destruction, mighty mixmaster paws, ripping and clawing
the very fabric of the climber’s fragranced homes, spilling their food across the Valley floor.
On the day that the twilight was pushed back by the mighty Chuck, who hung steady and calm
from his strong, live giving, arm bar, waiting for the protection of Chewinard, recovered from his
chariot, he returned to his fragrant camp to find his humble pup tent ransacked. The culprit had
no shame, nor fear, nor a bath in years. Chuck found a paw print the size of Delaware –
Spartacus, the size of nine Volkswagens, the maker of new cracks, had grown too arrogant.
He no longer respected the climbers as fellow forest denizens. The gentled souled Chuck cried to
the gods, “What crime have I done to deserve this assault? I burn the Oxen’s fat in your favor
and offer the finest of honeyed wine. Why, why me? Why do you strike this war between the bears,
sons of Ares, garbage eaters all and the peaceful climbers, who hang by arm bars. This is too
far. This breaches the rules of engagement. This is an insult. But if the Gods who never die call
us to war, we cannot refuse. I will overcome my peaceful nature and attack at night using the
strength of my arm bar and the weapons at hand. Spartacus must be taught a lesson.”
Chuck burned the oxen fat and offered honey sweetened wine to the great Valley gods and then
drinking well of the remaining honey sweetened wine, balanced on Coke bottles one toe at a time.
The peace loving, strong arm bar Chuck assembled his equipment, placing his down jacket over
his bulging chest and thick shoulders, nestling a bottle of wine (perhaps pinched), in one strong
arm and lofting above his head a rock weighing in the vicinity of 400 pounds. Thus ladened,
the strong arm bar Chuck trundled this rock to the top of Columbia Boulder and sat to wait
as darkness fell. The universe swung overhead and honey wine soaked Chuck sat still as a gourd.
Then, monstrous footfalls and the sound of great pines being felled filled the air. The ground trembled.
Spartacus emerged from the treeline and cast his head about and sniffed for the fragrant camps
of the climbers. Perhaps he could find some more goodies here among the strong arm barred
climbers, who slept peacefully with their beautiful lovers in pup tents of bright colors. Ponderously,
Spartacus wandered past Columbia Boulder. Chuck stood without a sound. He raised his boulder
above his head and cast it down with all his might on the skull of the great Spartacus.
Doink. It bounced off like a superball. Spartacus, the size of nine Volkswagens, who opened new cracks
with his roar which bore the modern age of climbing, blinked, shook his shaggy head and said “hrmph”.
Then wandered off to see what was cooking in Harding's Jag.
We were all born 2700 years too late, my chubby fingered Haan.
|
|
Reilly
Mountain climber
Monrovia, CA
|
|
|
May 21, 2009 - 11:04am PT
|
Et tu Rogelius?
This has and contiues to be a most moving and amusing tribute.
|
|
Peter Haan
Trad climber
San Francisco, CA
|
|
|
May 21, 2009 - 11:16am PT
|
Well-put Rog. Clearly you know who to listen to. See below a never-before revealed shot of Chuck as he hurled the 4799-talent boulder at Ursus Spartacus. Second century BC. a little after the earth cooled.
And Rog, about the fingers again, they are not chubby, Roger, they are HUGE, see below.
|
|
Doug Robinson
Trad climber
Santa Cruz
|
|
|
Topic Author's Reply - May 21, 2009 - 11:49am PT
|
If we had skirmishes with the bears, the larger war was against the the heathen hordes, the tourists whose irreverent tides surged into our sacred Gulch, and with their appointed minions, the Rangers.
Chuck the clear-eyed was the first to see that in the bigger conflict the bears could be our allies. What he said was, "A coalition of a dozen climbers and a dozen bears could hold this Valley against all comers."
I've always thought that was one of the two best ideas (the other one being the mandatory entrance requirement of a 5.8 mantle move somewhere above El Portal) for maintaining an atmosphere appropriate to the sacredness of the place. Which of course rightly includes not only humble reverence but also the wildest of partying.
And yes, I know that I too am skirting here the larger question of the flow state that arises while climbing and its relationship to the most subtle psychology of the stages of enlightenment ever articulated that is found in Buddhism. More on that in a bit.
|
|
Jan
Mountain climber
Okinawa, Japan
|
|
|
May 21, 2009 - 11:54am PT
|
Peter and Steve-
I was joking!
This theme has already been discussed on the Sacherer thread - the relationship between hyper maleness, hero worship, and chauvinism.
Obviously the great climbers such as yourselves and Roger, who walked the earth after the gods had departed, were endowed with a much better sense of humor than the originals!
What makes Chuck unique is that he was one of the gods of the primeval age, yet even then had a well developed sense of irony and humor, much of it directed at himself.
|
|
Doug Robinson
Trad climber
Santa Cruz
|
|
|
Topic Author's Reply - May 21, 2009 - 12:10pm PT
|
Kim Carlson is the woman who was such a special friend of Chuck's, who lived over Teton Pass in Idaho. Just noticed her name on that program from the Memorial -- thanks for posting that Guido, appropriately anointed with the sacramental wine.
|
|
Doug Robinson
Trad climber
Santa Cruz
|
|
|
Topic Author's Reply - May 21, 2009 - 12:43pm PT
|
During his last years Chuck took up photography. Somewhat surprising when you think of Royal's comment somewhere in an article during the Sixties to the effect that taking a photo of Chuck seemed too invasive. I'm winging the quote here, but the sense of it is, "It would be like asking a Navajo to pose, and I would never do that."
What I remember of his shots are beautiful women. Besides American women, there were lots of lovely and delicate Thai women. Candid, anonymous, poised and full of grace.
Chuck loved women. Guys were OK, but the company of women brought him closer to the great mystery. Before heading to Thailand that autumn, he made his annual pilgrimage to Devils Tower in the company of Amy Brennan, who largely organized the memorial, and another beautiful young woman. They climbed every day on the Tower, and Amy mentioned that Chuck was fit and sure on the rock, climbing with his old grace and command. No hint of demise.
She also said that in the local bar they got plenty of stares, the grizzled Pratt walking in each evening with beautiful women on each arm, and had to make up the story for the quizzical locals that they were Chuck's nieces.
But the company of women wasn't always possible -- never seems to be quite available enough in the greater scheme of things -- and the longing and its despair must have somehow brought on the unleashing of Chuck's demons that led to Jan's last encounter, with Chuck's powerful hands at her throat.
|
|
Jan
Mountain climber
Okinawa, Japan
|
|
|
May 21, 2009 - 03:33pm PT
|
DR
My interpretation of the event was that Chuck had recently had an unhappy experience with a woman I didn't know about, and under the influence of alcohol was feeling bitter toward all women. I just happened to be there. Nothing personal. If I had ever seen him again I would have teased him about it for sure.
The secret to Chuck's general success with women was that he was a great listener and totally nonjudgemental. I think for these reasons, he had many more platonic relationships with women than he had lovers, though there were plenty of those.
Fredericks and I were once at a party with him in Boulder where we were all laying on the floor listening to music as there was no furniture in the apartment. Next thing we know, a woman lying next to Chuck, whom none of us had met before the party, starts making very obvious moves on him. We barely extricated ourselves from the apartment before she had all of his clothes off.
Of course I always brought this up when Chuck would start to complain about being unloved. He always had to agree that it actually happened in just the way he had always fantasized it would, and no man could have asked for more.
|
|
Ihateplastic
Trad climber
Lake Oswego, Oregon
|
|
|
May 21, 2009 - 05:24pm PT
|
Largo... I remember a piece you did on Chuck. It was in Rock and Ice. Can you post it? If you don't have it at hand I can scan in for the crowd to enjoy.
|
|
|
SuperTopo on the Web
|
Let us know!