"Haven't talked to him in a while. We'd have to get him a chauffeur because these days he is transportationally challenged."
"Huh? He has a chauffeur?"
"Uh,.. no. That's the problem."
"He has a limousine?"
"Coming up a little short there too.... We gotta find him a ride. He's low on options."
My first run in with the Bird was in the '70s in the Curry Village shower where he burst in and, just as a stall vacated, whipped off his towel and cut the line ahead of us.
"Are you gonna do something?"
"No. Are you gonna say something?"
Just like in the ending of Chinatown my partner says, "Forget it man, its Bridwell."
Tangling naked with Bridwell back then is as unappealing as it is today (albeit for an entirely different set of reasons,..)
Over the years we got to know each other, and more than 20 years later he came to try a wall in Zion Canyon with my old friend from AMGA days, Mark Bowling.
No sooner had we sorted our gear than Bird jacked the rack and announced we were trying a different wall 60 miles away!
"Are you gonna do something?"
"No. Are you gonna say something?"
"Forget it man, its Bridwell."
Over the 12+ years since then his perspective has changed. He has matured and grown to understand that every person is entitled to his opinion, and he damn well gives it to them whether they want it or not!
Aware of the boulder that would be perched on the right hand side of the political seesaw at this event I used the latitude of an organizer to slyly stack the deck on the opposite side as well. Lynchpin in this endeavor was a climber even senior to the Bird.
In fact, Jim Donini has been climbing longer than anyone can remember. There are rumors that he learned how in the military, but the truth is that I really do not know either that detail, or for that matter whether he served for the North or the South.
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(As expected, Donini is on the left, Bridwell the right.)
Likewise from the left, Anastasia would be there. I suppose her concern for the paltry representation of women at these events was valid, but the way the personnel kept changing it was hard to predict just how many other women would be there.
But her ally on the (gun toting) left was known to her at least from Jello's Climbfest.
James, our young ophthalmologist Phd. candidate, had signed on as photographer. He had been hard at work cultivating a reputation as a despoiler of young mormon women and this campaign had met with at least enough success to spur a northern Utah bishop to place a bounty on James' testicles.
Ironically, this in turn prompted James to wear a somewhat bulging custom kevlar jockstrap with trauma plate that had an unanticipated consequence(at least on the bishop's part) of attracting even more women than before.
Anastasia's husband Bill said he would be bringing his assault rifle. A doctor as well, it makes him one of those unique individuals that can both put bullets in and take them out.
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Another physician attending was podiatrist Ron K.
Ron and I went into Valley of Fire by motorcycle on the shortest day of the year in '94. We bagged the FA of Ypsilon Dome, hopped back on the bikes, rode 2 miles, and then bagged a second virgin summit.
It was a great day for me.
Not so much for Ron though, who got lost in the dark heading back to camp and ran out of gas after 30 miles the wrong way.
But this is how climbing builds character.
Ron's limp is almost gone now, and while he has recovered his wife and three beautiful little girls have lived a simple life in Lake Havasu.
If he came home from a 5 day trip and the toilet seat was up then he knew something was very wrong.
But Ron just had a son, and life is about to become far more complex.
Another mormon also with four kids at home would be attending (but I never did see them exchange the secret handshake). In fact I would be riding down in Steve's huge truck with all the kit, and convoying with Donini's car and James' truck following us.
Missing photo ID#178333
We were holding the event at Christmas Tree Pass because we were low on options. This was all due to Tom Cochrane's faulty landing gear.
Tom had pledged to secretly deliver Layton Kor to the Latok reunion at Sawmill Bench by flying him across the Grand Canyon. Instead, Tom showed up a Layton's door and made him cross the Grand Canyon by mule.
Shorty got so sore that he swore never to go more than an hour from home ever again!
This time Tom said he'd fly out with Royal Robbins. I actually heard from Robbins who requested details about the event, but after I told him who was coming and where we were going he told me he would rather have a prostate exam that sunday.
Tom still insisted on me holding him 2 slots so that he could bring his girlfriend, but at the last moment he (and another 2 slot reservation, radical) claimed illness.
I had told them that slots were nonrefundable after we had bought the food.
There was confusion about the "ticket" thing, but sushifests have been done that way for years now. Fish ain't cheap, but if you want to get your RDA for mercury you have to pony up.
Perhaps because I footed for Layton and Bird as well as the "crew" (Albert and Wade, Layton's uber-helpful escort, photographer James, and the fish people, Doug, David Blume, and Pencilpenis) the confusion was enhanced some.
In addition David was there so that I would not be the only jew that people love to hate (and he is a softer target at that).
Missing photo ID#178342
But my organization failed on a different score in appointing Mark both the location scout based on our trip there 3+ years earlier and chauffeur for the Bird (along with his son Layton who had come to meet his namesake.)
You see there is an implicit paradox in these dual functions.
Mark knew that we needed a spot with 2WD access that was flat enough for Jello's wheelchair, but he had a bird on his shoulder urging him further up a degenerating dry wash that the bird found appealing for its seclusion.
When we found Mark's sign and began to trail him I got on the radio quickly telling Donini that it was too rough to follow in his car.
Silly me.
That is like red to a bull.
By the time we located Mark I already knew two things; Jello was also under the weather so there would be no wheelchair, and now that Donini was here having left only a few minor car parts on the trail, technically at least we had 2WD access.
That Bowling and Bird had already dug in and set up made it appear a fait accompli.
Bridwell was even pacing about with a rifle.
Mission creep.
With the muzzle coming alarmingly close to sweeping us I look at James and Steve.
"Are you gonna do something?"
"No. Are you gonna say something?"
"Forget it man, its Bridwell."
(It came very close though.)
We were expecting others.
Steve "Crusher" Bartlett was our token brit. Something of a counterpart to an anglophile Crusher likes american climbs, people and places, so I see no reason not to let him stay here indefinitely as long as he doesn't try to cook anything.
I had no fear that he was able to get to us as he would be driving the most capable off road vehicle one could have;... a rental car.
It is amazing where those things will go!
He would be followed by Stonemaster Richard Harrison with partner Michelle. Richard has as much off road experience as myself, and actually left NO car parts, so that by the time the fish people arrived we were a done deal.
Ron K made it in his 4WD.
Since his epic with me he always has 500 miles worth of fuel, food and water for a week, and three GPS units.
Albert and Wade rolled in with Shorty and did a terrific job of setting him up.
Doug arrived with the Doctor and Pencilpenis and was was absolutely furious about the rough terrain and didn't calm down until we let him shoot some small cute animals.
He actually later filleted one and added strips of it to the seaweed salad the next day with no one but myself being the wiser.
Soon the coals were hot. The food was cooking, and the banter was brisk and jovial.
Those without particular tasks to perform were granted a verbal treatise of The World According To Bridwell.
But the most difficult task of all had been accomplished;
Layton liked his steak.
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Sadly Bill reverted back to his delusion of conducting the Boston Pops. But at least he had fun.
I was beat!
James and I had been drinking reposada till 2:00 the night before, but I had gotten up at 6:00 to finish prepping.
I racked out in the open quite early and suddenly a squall hit us sending me scrambling for a tarp which I no longer needed by the time I got it.
I got back in my cot under the tarp and listened.
Layton had sacked out in his tent 20m away and almost immediately put a lumber mill into operation. The ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ of his snoring was alternately overpowered by the SHHHHHHHHHH of the wind in the trees, or the monologue of Bridwell holding court by the fire 80m away.
An abridged rough transcript follows:
Z
Z
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S
H
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"It all began with the Zoroastrians, who,..."
S
H
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H
H
Z
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S
H
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H
Z
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"but fukking Obama,..."
Z
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"economic collapse in three months, and food riots in a year!"
S
H
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H
It seems almost like some kind of right wing acid flashback as I drift off.
An hour before dawn I start up the coffee by lantern.
The toppings for the french toast include syrups, butter, four types of jams, mandarin oranges and two types of yogurt.
Or just a fried egg.
Mark's griddle earns him partial redemption.
Soon people are going climbing or shooting.
Bill likes my fancy rifle rest once he strips his cheekpiece to fit.
I even use the spotting scope to call Bridwell's shots with his .22lr
But when Bill offers to let Bird shoot his assault rifle I quickly hustle back to camp to hide until the dust settles.
Later that morning Cosmic and his wife show up on Donini's invite.
I can laugh at Cosmic's making me into Yosemite Sam or a clown. He can puff away all he wants.
He could even invite Trundlebum on me (although asking and allowing me to make a gracious gesture because I know what it is like to live out of a car would be nice).
But that T-shirt that he's been wearing since high school ought to be considered a capitol crime.
In fact, I believe that the only reason he has not been executed for wearing it is that these affairs have the tendency to end up poorly when the firing squad members have to wear blindfolds also!
Doug also wants to shoot before sushiing and James sets out tannerite at 80m.
Bang
Bang
Miss
Miss
Miss
Miss
etc. etc.
20 misses
James wants to try the CZ (5.56mm).
Now James has fair experience as a rifleman for the young lad that he is, so I figured I only needed to tell him 4 or 5 times, "James, that thing has a hair trigger."
"I know."
"No really. All you do is touch it."
"I get it!"
"I've heard that before from people."
"Did you hear it from ME?"
"Just trying to save you the,.."
James is now angrily glaring at me.
"OK. You try it."
Now when I say "hair" trigger I mean,.. like baby peach fuzz type hair, but it seems that James is thinking more like one of those big thick black hairs that grows out of its own mole and you have to clip three times a daywith wire cutters or clothing hangs up on the stump.
He's seen a lot of those in that clinic.
But James is using the best rifle rest we have.
It holds that rifle really steady and has minutely fine adjustment knobs that that he uses to zero in both windage and elevation.
Then I hear him set the trigger.
Two seconds later he is cursing like a sailor as the dust drifts past the target.
I laugh and this time his glare is more one of disgust.
I laugh harder.
Fortunately we had Anastasia to cheer us on;
"YOU GUYS SUCK!!!!!!"
Ron K lets me rest the CZ on his bike rack for a shot. I breath three times then brace,
crack, KABOOM!!!
Rather than risk missing on my second, I quit while ahead and turn to the others feigning nonchalance, "Ya just have to hit it."
James has us line up for a photo.
All we need is Benicio Del Toro and horizontal height lines behind us.
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If I had known that Layton and others would be leaving so early Doug and I probably would have started at noon.
I kick myself for not planning this one better but Layton had surgery less than a month earlier. Next time I'll set everything up months in advance.
And Doug is not the only one bothered by the "invitational" aspect of these, but we both understand how it can turn into a ZOO.
Perhaps for the next one after special guests are invited we will open up X number of slots on a first paid first served basis.
But there likely has to be an understanding regarding the "I wanna come but I don't eat raw fish" crowd. (Make them pay extra for nothing perhaps?)
Anyway we cut them off.
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I rolled them up.
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We stuffed our faces.
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In that last one I think we are about to experience a pencil eclipse of the lantern. I have to admit that Tim was not quite up to his usual obnoxious self and was actually helpful that morning too.
Of course we all know that once he is into his cups,..
Well,... its not surprising that even Courtney Love has more success nipple winking guys.
Afterwards that night I took a few pulls on the Tequila myself only to look up and see the clouds rolling in.
James' electric dingus says rain at 9:00am, but it never comes.
We have a fried egg marathon on Mark's griddle until they run out.
Then Doug realizes that he has some quail eggs left from the shooters and uses them to make tiny little pieces of french toast.
It is strangely sad that Layton junior has been hiding in the cab of Mark's truck for two days eating a secret stash of cookies while talking to his girlfriend on his cell.
All the more sad because, while he thought the terrific reception was due to the nearby towers, it was actually because she was hiding with James in the back of his truck only a stone's throw away!
Eventually it is down to the stalwart seven; Steve, Crusher, Doug, Pencil, David, Bird and myself.
The sun came out for a bit.
We sat around and talked for quite a while.
I rode home with the mormon rastafarian, a good partner for these things even if he does believe that the world is 6,000 years old and he is going to rule a planet after he dies.
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I took the money that Richard and Cosmic gave me and added it to the money I was sending Kor from the auctions.
He'll never know. He doesn't lurk on the taco like Bowling.
(When I posted in Cosmic's TR that Mark had picked a poor site the phone rang in less than 3 minutes!)
The next day Donini stopped by for dinner. He said that he had to get home for some TV deal and I didn't have the heart to tell him that Willard Scott only announces your birthday once.
We talked of the cosmic misunderstanding and he set me straight while I whipped up some red pepper beef over couscous.
The wine, Charles Krug '06 cabernet was so good I didn't put much spice on the food.
Jim liked it too and looked up from his glass and said, "You know, I like climbing with guys younger than me."
Once again I bit my tongue without reminding him he was low on options.
"You just like to blow them out of the water!"
He smiled, "Aw, you got me!"
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James
