Retrosaurus

Fuckinbastsard snafflehounds!!!! Camped on Snow Creek below the wall about a dozen years ago and the ferocious/fearless fuzzy litle rodents assaulted us as we were sitting around the campfire. We prevailed but it was a heated battle, won only after stomping on a pair of them and kicking their carcasses into our campfire. In the morning we discovered that they had eaten the heels out of a perfectly good pair of Scarpa rock shoes. Fuckinbastard snafflehounds!!!! Where were you when we needed you Mr. Blister?

I think that you should all put on condoms right now, just to be safe.

You met those "Bucks" in prision didn't you. They will say anything you want to remain the object of your affections. There are more than that number of "Does" begging to vouch for the immensity of my unit. See you in ten years by which time you should realize that some ethnics age better than others.

It wasn't an inmate it was a primate (yo mamma).

I believe that the DDD rap-bolters will be "formerly-respected" PNW climbers when there names become known. I am offended by the bolts on DDD. I top-roped the route many years ago and thought that I would like to be good enough to lead it someday. Today I am. Not because I can climb any better than I could then, but because it has been "chopped" down to level that I and many others can deal with. This does not make it more valuable. I believe it is now of less value. I am in favor of chopping DDD. Any scars left would be less offensive than the new bolts. I have chopped routes before and will happily take part in chopping this one if Caveman can use my help.

No one with all 23 pairs of chromosomes intact.

Anywhere that resoles ought to sell you the rubber, and the cement is just neoprene based contact cement. You can use Barge's Cement or any other brand.

Tastes like cardboard. Chews like sponge. It's really only garbage on a sesame bun.

Hey Paul, Are you going to do the lower north ridge? Cause if you are the "squeeze slot" on the Lower North Ridge, East side is much worse with a pack than the Gendarme is. Mitch

David, I just resoled a pair of my four-year-old's outgrown canvas tennie runners. They climb great, are more comfortable than climbing shoes and are loads cheaper. I soled them with 5.10 aqua-dot. It's thinner and so doesn't compromise the feel as much and still gives the kid a little traction for running around in the dirt. You need to get a belt sander and sand the soles until all the old tread is gone too, to keep the sole from ending up too thick and to get maximun adhesion for the new sole. You should be able to get him outfitted for about $15. We just did a three pitch climb at Peshastin and they worked really great.

quote: Originally posted by pope: I am so much more than just a walking salami. Who do you think you're fooling?

... a caulk gun with at least nine tubes of epoxy.

Some first ascents? More than everyone else put together is closer to the truth. Bill Robins and Paul Certa. Chief grid-bolter is Kevin Pogue.

Back in about 1980 my climbing gear consisted of a rope, four locking biners, 12' of 1" tubular for a harness, 30' for rigging anchors and hightop leather basketball shoes that I kept sewing the soles back onto with dental floss when the stitching wore off and the soles started to look like flip-flops. During this period of supreme ignorance I took a forty foot whipper on top-rope. You can't make just one stupid mistake and accomplish anything this extreem; you have to make about four at once. I would drag any sucker that I could out to the undeveloped cliffs above my home town, equalize an anchor off about three sagebrush bushes and TR anything that I thought looked cool. My favorite rappel was an 80' convex slab with a fridge size boulder at the top for an anchor. We would sling this boulder and rap off the vertical face about half way down to where the angle of the slab eased and run back and forth across the face, springing out into space and spinnint around and doing other such shenanegans that you might see on a Mtn Dew commercial. Right of this slab is a funny wavy moss/lichenny L-facing chimney, that we decided to toprope after we tired of rappell buffoonery. I tried to flip the rope toward the chimney to position it more directly above our proposed route. After much effort it was still about 12 feet off to the left of the route. Good enough. (Mistake #1). As I began to climb, tall dark clouds rolled over the top of the cliff and by the time I was about half way up, a full on cloud burst opened on us with hail and big pelting drops of rain. Almost immediately the walls of the chimney were running with water; the moss and lichen were all slicked up; and my cordurous were completely soaked. But my trusty partner had me securely on a hip belay and our anchor was bomber. I continued. (Mistake #2). As I neared the top, things began to feel really desperate. The pull of 80' of wet 11mm rope through my off center top rope anchor was tugging me out of the chimney. I called for slack and continued. (Mistake #3). As I reached the top of the cliff and put my hand on the greasy holds at the ledge, my feet greased off and I was airborn. (Mistake #4). I managed to kick off and dropped twenty feet before the slack came out of the rope. As I hit the end of the rope my belayer with trusty hip belay locked off and went airborn himself for twenty feet before swinging back into the steep cheat-grass slope that he had run down as I fell. He had seen the desperation of the situation and wrapped the rope completely around himself a couple of times. Thank God. I came to a stop without a scratch.

Please no! It's just to much fun. And just what do you do with those lambs when you're done any way? I hope you don't just ride'em hard and put'em away wet. Where I'm from we shear sheep but I hear you're not shearing yours with any one.

His belayer thought that he had been lowered to the ground when in actuality he was 40' off the deck.Instead of verifying this, his belayer who was late for an appointment, just cut him loose. What ever happened to "Off belay"?

It was Apple Blossom weekend and a great time to not be in Wenatchee. A former-local climbing pal of mine gave me a call to try to hook up for a 1/2 day of climbing at Castle Rock. He had a morning and I had an afternoon so he hooked up with a couple of 18 year olds that I had taught to climb about a year or so ago. When my wife and I got to the rock just before noon, we spotted the three of them right away on a climb called Brass Balls on Lower Castle Rock. Brass Balls is a stellar route and the best for its grade in the entire Leavenworth area, in my opinion. Moderate crack climbing to a 5.10- roof then a steep and slightly off balance 5.8/9 hand crack to a stradle move below a 5.10b roof pulled on straight-on fingerlocks. Great protection. Your feet normally cut loose when you grab the jugs at the lip of the first roof. We are hiking up the trail to the lower rock to do The Bone or Catapult or something just as former-local has finished the pitch and Andy is following the route, removing all the pro and trailing a rope for Andrew to follow on. As I top the chimney on The Fault, I see Andrew pitch off the first roof and take a fairly wild swing off to the side of the route with no pro on the rope to keep him on the route. He fights his way back on to the route andafter wasting a lot of energy trying to flip the rope above him across the lip of the roof so that it would be above him instead of pulling him sideways off the route, pitches off the roof again. On his third attempt he pulls the roof in a terrific display of determination and establishes himself in the crack above just as I am rigging my belay anchor about sixty feet to his right to bring my wife up The Fault. A minute or two later I hear Andrew say,"What the f@#k!" And I look over in time to see his rope come whipping down the rock from above him and land on the slabs at the base of the route then slither off into the bushes and talus. I have never seen any one so fucked. "Get a stance! You're solo!" I yelled to him. "What!?", he says in disbelief. "Get a stance! You're solo!" I see a nut hanging from his harness. "You've got a nut. Can you place it?" He quickly glances at the 5.9 hand crack where his hands are jammed. "No. The crack's too big." "If I clip some cams on your rope, can you pull them up and place them?" "I can try." I can't do this to this kid, I'm thinking. He'd have to take one hand out of that crack, pull up an arm-length of rope to his teeth and repeat maybe ten or more times while this jammed hand is holding all of him and milking out of the crack. It is becoming very clear that in precious few minutes I'm going to see this kid come off the climb, fly through the air and impact the slab. Bones will snap, blood will spatter and he will tumble broken down the slab off another drop and into talus and bushes. He's not even out of High School for Christ's sake. I taught him how to climb. I haven't even met his mom. "Just hold on. I'll come and get you." I clip about fifteen feet of runner onto my belay anchor, clip my climbing rope through it and climb out left and down to the start of Brass Balls. I take his climbing rope dangling off the roof above and tie a loop in it and clip it to my belay loop. I don't know if I could grab it when I'm higher on the route, certainly not until I'm over the the first roof. I climb to the first roof and stuff a cam in half way out, slinging it long. This is the first piece that I could place since leaving the belay on The Fault. I couldn't possibly have placed anything sooner and gotten through the rope drag. My wife has no idea what is going on at this point. I take Andrew's rope and tie him off short again to my belay loop. At this point, if either of us comes off, he hits the slab and I deck too, but I probably save him a tumble off the slab. Maybe he'll live. Another piece at the lip of the roof and I turn the roof and establish myself. I put in two pieces and put Andrew on belay. As he down climbs the ten feet to me I add a third anchor to the belay then lower him to the ground.

Or Klans Trad could invest in a power drill and bolt vertical talus everywhere for just such and end.

I keep seeing that pic of the chunk of Frenchman Coulee rock with the bolt in it on the site. The same senario keeps coming into my mind. The climber falls ripping out the block, is caught by the next bolt, and then..... tethered to the rope by a short quick draw, the rock zips down the rope and strikes the fallen climber right in the.....YYEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWW!!!! Oh well, he was probably a sport climber and didn't have any balls any way.

Hey Bonehead, It's only slander if it's not true. Nothing stings like the truth. Grow some values.

quote: Originally posted by lambone: My point is that I love all aspects of climbing, except the old school Trad bastards who think they are gods gift to the rock. I could go off for hours.... -matt You are wrong. We are not God's gift to the rock; the rock is God's gift to us. Sport Mo's need to quit spraying stainless steel all over it.

Hey Viktor, I climbed the rightmost route on the Sole Kitchen slab, right of Chitlins. Can you tell me about it?

Oh, You lie!! And every one knows it. Anyone that would take sloppy 2nds on Drul's favorite inflatable livestock is certainly not as picky as you claim to be. I hear you know exactly what to do with the hair on the back.

Length, width and, umm... depth? I'm sure Erik would apreciate a little more beta.

Maybe Madonna Top-Bunk would do the on scene commentary for Real TV?