pope

Think we've got one on the line. Whoa, he's a big one too! I've been hoping to hear from some legends, and tonight I am NOT disappointed. Check out Dana's Arch. Rub shoulders with greatness.

Here's another: one fragile poster, one box instant cake mix. Combine ingredients and stir.

I've been waiting two weeks for the clarification!

Once, while packing for a California climbing trip, I sliced a bagel with a wonderfully sharp bread knife. The knife didn't seem to know where my hand stopped and the bagel began. Just like that, the trip was off (the tip of my finger nearly came off as well). While installing a metal roof, I stepped on a knotty 3/4 inch board and nearly fell through. I arrested my fall when the palm of my hand landed on a piece of roofing, which nearly cut my thumb off. In seventeen years of climbing, my worst injury was a really bad sunburn. Folks, it's safer in the hills than it is around the house.

Good morning, Peter. Your acumen for presenting evidence out of context and consequently reversing its meaning/intent is unparalleled. There, I said something nice about Peter today. You might dig up (and repost, if you're man enough) the post to which I replied.

Wow! I'm amazed by the funny, clever and provocative contributors who post at this site! So.....where are they this evening?

Yo, Slap-Ass, dat sum funny stuff!

Fragile Peter, You've a profound grasp of the obvious. There, I said something nice 'bout Petey. When one says, "Rock is more aesthetic in its natural state than it is with a rash of bolts,"...well, you're quite right to say that it is a subjective stance. As are a few of my other preferences: cold beer, big tits, and the absence of hippy/pseudo-logicians. The aesthetics of bolting is not an arguable issue....but neither is the aesthetics of chopping buckets or building gondolas in a national park. I'm not pretending that every piece of granite deserves national park status, but permanently altering rock walls with holes and bolts (and pin scars) does step on the toes of many people, and it forever reduces the dimensions of challenge that a wall may offer. For me, it diminishes the chances that I'll ever feel like I'm playing fairly in what was once a wilderness game. For the record, I've never defended myself by claiming I'm "basically a nice guy." I once responded to a post that said something to the effect of, "Pope, that's the nicest thing I've ever heard you say." My reply was something like, "Thanks. You should tune in more frequently." Slappy, beating the shit out a crack by pounding pins in and out makes it ugly. But uglier than a line of bolts? I'm not sure how to convince you of what seems obvious to me, but we're talking aesthetics. You'll meet guys who think that nailing a crack improves it, creating nice locks and great nut placements, as long as the visual effect is minimized. Who knows, everybody has an opinion of what's ugly/damaging, and of what's aesthetic/pretty. Let me try to understand you....let's see, do you like fat chicks? Does your kind of girl have hairy legs and a green onion stuck in her teeth? Yes? Then I can see how you think bolts are sexy.

Slappy, You're an idiot. You're attitude seems to say, "Gee, damage will be done, so I argue that bolts are less damaging." Many, many aid climbs have seen the transition to "clean aid" climbs when the record of just one clean ascent is made public. Slamming bolts next to a crack that can be aided "cleanly" is merely substitution of one ugly practice for another. That Dana's Arch might not offer adequate clean protection for a free ascent, I'm not trying to dispute, but it definitely goes clean on aid. What we have seen, then, is the desire to free an old aid pitch and the willingness to compromise its aesthetics by bolting it. Truly unfortunate...not just the act, but the attitude behind it as well.

Now I regret starting this thread. I've got to be honest: Peter's posts are entertaining, and he has sent me several pm's that were entirely cordial. When he's not upset with you, he's a great guy. Prior to the events I described above, I kind of liked the guy. In truth, he only sent two pm's that were poorly received, then I asked him to never contact me again, and he complied. And for the record, I've condemned the actions of a minority of climbers, those who trash our crags. I've certainly poked fun at others, but I wouldn't call it condemnation. I've also jumped in to "rescue" people who were getting picked on here, like the novice who was tired of being ridiculed for climbing in a gym (I reminded him that gym climbing is a lot of fun, and he's got nothing to be embarassed about); like the time a number of cc.commies were bashing T-shirt Rich. And starting today, I'm going to make it a point to say one nice thing about Peter each day. Happy, happy, happy.

Once upon a time, Peter Puget and an unnamed poster were duking it out, slinging some serious spray, when Peter was accused of sending vicious pm's. He responded that in his entire history at cc.com, he'd only sent ONE private message. Now, apparently this was Pope's cue to jump in and say, "Hey, Peter has sent me pm's, and he's an OK guy, and his pm's are devoid of animosity, and pregnant with insight." Unfortunately, Pope wasn't monitoring Peter's posts that day; he missed this opportunity. Peter then sent Pope one of these "where-were-you-when-I-needed-you?-You're-a-real-nice-guy,-aren't-you?"-type messages. Pope apologized and assured Peter that, hey, he thought Peter was pretty cool and he regretted not defending Peter in the forum. Next day, Peter, apparently deeply offended and not getting over it any time soon, sent Pope a pm scolding him for "ridiculing" Big Lou. Pope had had enough and told Peter to take a flying flip. That's the history behind the Peter/Pope soap opera, and perhaps explains why Peter lurks around these boards, waiting for the opportunity to knock holes in Pope's logic/analysis. Chuckles. Why do you need to know these details? Just remember, cc.com has a few patrons who take this shit quite seriously, who fancy themselves as possessing refined, locical minds, who are certain they've got a unique perspective worth hearing. Also remember, some of these guys get their feelings hurt with remarkable ease, and they don't let you forget. They remind us of how small people are capable of creating enormous significance where nobody would have guessed it exists.

I built a 12X12 a couple of years ago, and I'm pleased with the results. Seems like I framed with 2x8 on 16" intervals (to tie in with the trusses above the garage), and I've got a warm-up wall that overhangs 2 ft in 12, and a wider, serious wall that overhangs 4 ft in 12. Hot tips from the pros: 1. Buy T-nuts by the 100 at a fastener retailer/wholesaler. If you're interested, I could find the name of the guy who sold me my nuts....uh, you know. They came out to about $0.07 each! I got the kind that are secured with three little screws instead of teeth....pretty damn tedious but quite secure! 2. Have a wall-warming party and tell your buddies to each bring a hold. Invite 50 guys and hire a stripper (it'll be cheaper than the grips). 3. DO NOT BUILD YOUR WALL NEAR A FRIDGE! More than one "send-the-sickness" fest was abruptly terminated when I reached for the fridge and grabbed a coldy, right in the middle of a wicked "piano" move (Heh? Bet some of you kids didn't think I was hip to such sport-speak!). 4. Don't invite Dwayner to your work-outs. He's notorious for tucking his T-shirt up through the neck, baring his midriff, and dancing around the "iso-simulation" station while monopolizing the ghetto-blaster with his Rocky-Horror and Jesus Christ Superstar soundtracks.

You could be right....could be some kind of statement. The place used to be really pretty...I supposed somebody might still care about it.

Great story, ScottP. I think I heard a version of this from Rob, if it's the same Rob I have in mind.

Logic, children. Somebody upset about bolts would remove/damage them. Somebody who thinks bolts are nifty would swipe the hangers. I'd be REALLY amazed if they were swiped by somebody who did not intend to SLAP them up on his own project. Why? Because those of us who have the environmental ethics to avoid bolting also have the social ethics to avoid stealing. Come on over, join us. You won't hear one of the "trad" climbers that you despise whimpering because somebody swiped his rack of hexes and his rugby shirt.

Yes, it's theft, and it's pathetic. But you've got to understand, these bolt hangers will just appear on some new sport climb. The guy that swiped them has poorly developed social ethics (he's a thief) and poorly developed environmental ethics (HE'S GOING TO STICK THEM UP ON A DIFFERENT CLIFF WHERE THEY ARE EQUALLY OUT OF PLACE). Either way you look at it, he has no problem leaving a mess and stepping on toes. But, if you clip bolts, then you surround yourself with these kind of people, and what do you expect?

I remember an episode when two climbers (a Brit and a Coloradical) called some kind of press conference to announce that they were cutting off their trendy, braided hair for the purpose of: (1) escaping an image by which they perceived themselves to be trapped; (2) donating the clippings for an Access Fund auction. I recall that a friend of mine was so inspired by this gesture, he decided to undergo adult circumcision SO THAT HE WOULD ALSO HAVE SOME CLIPPINGS TO DONATE to the Access Fund Auction. What a swell idea. We should do this again....should organize a CC.com auction for the purpose of raising money for the Access Fund. Who has something they could donate? Lately I've felt trapped by my image.... I've got an old Everest Uni-Shell Gore-Tex Suit with a custom brown racing stripe I could donate. I've got an extra Big Lou mug I could throw in....who knows, if we raised enough money, maybe we could strong-arm a few bureaucrats into allowing power drills back in wilderness areas!

Bonzo went to Bitburg.

Maybe one of our Oprah fans could help me understand why the following lyrics inspire me to climb (Peter? Sexy Cocoa?). "Get out of that bed, wash your face and hands. Get out of that bed, wash your face and hands. Get in the kithcen and make some noise with the pots and pans. I believe to my soul you're the devil in nylon hose. I believe to my soul you're the devil in nylon hose. The harder I work, the faster my money goes. Shake, rattle and roll."

Sometimes I learn more from Dwayner just pokin' around town than I do scaling some wicked wall. There I was, standing in line to purchase a spiffy sweater, passing time by noticing the rack of stocking stuffers that had been placed there specifically to target compulsive REI shoppers. Yup, the novelties for sale included everything from climbers' soap to Woodstock Wind Chimes, from completely frivelous items, such as nalgene wine glasses, to especially functional items, like a reflective skirt for your candle lantern. That's when Dwayner demonstrated why those little fleece blankets are called "throws". He repeated the demonstration until, just when he thought I was catching on, I threw a headlamp at him. We vacated the store and made our way to Costco for $1.50 dickstick lunch. Dwayner also demonstrated the most efficient way to score a free lunch at Costco. "You walk up to a busy sample table, and you roll up just one sleave. Then, reach around one side of a patron to grab a sample. Immediately reach around the other side with the other arm and score another. The sample lady never suspects you're double dippin', because all she sees is your arms, which don't appear to belong to the same person." Damn, Dwayner thinks of everything. Then Dwayner took the time to show me his favorite coffee stand in Bonney Lake. "You drive up expecting to pay two bucks for a cup of coffee. What you're not expecting is the cute gals working behind the window! And they're standing up on a platform back there so you can more completely appreciate them. I like to think that's part of what I'm payin' for....that's $1.50 for the Joe and $0.50 for the eye candy!" Again, Dwayner thinks of everything!

Now that one could be useful.

Ignorant climbers would do well to abandon the ridiculous and insulting jargon they've developed and to invest a little time learning more about the English language (instead of degrading it). I'm sorry, but when I need to hang from the rope (say, to retrieve a nut), I refuse to demand my belayer to "take". I will be requesting tension. I won't be "sending the sickness" out at the crags; I'll simply be scaling difficult walls competently. Not that a little jargon is so terrible, but traditional belay signals have facilitated safe climbing for decades.

Bill, I also heard the good news about this boy. A report I heard this morning at 1 a.m. said that he had made it out on his own, finding help at a local home. That's one tough kid! Sorry about your cousin. Eric.

With little slack in the schedule and a comprehensive "to-do" list from the Frau, Pope employed the help of Hemlock to secure a noble fir tree for Christmas. Certainly not as sexy as a trip to Smith Rock, it was nevertheless a chance to sneak out of town for a morning, see the hills, drink a little beer. From a logging road high over Greenwater, they could see that Mt. Rainier had put on her winter coat, and that her flanks would soon be within the tenacious grip of snow and cold. After a quick exchange of greetings and a ticket check from a ranger, Pope and Hemlock stowed the chainsaw and empties, then settled in for the drive back to Enumclaw. High on Mt. Petey, trouble was brewing. A four-year-old boy had "skipped ahead of his parents." As Petey is a smallish mountain (Manning claims the trail gains 1000 feet), the boys parents didn't think he could be too lost, and they searched for two hours before contacting help. Saturday morning, the boy hadn't been found. If he was still on Petey, that meant that he'd spent the night out in a dry but chilly night. A terrible thought, but somehow it seemed infinitely better than thinking of the alternatives. Pope drove out to Petey, where he encountered a news crew and a roped-off Mt. Pete trailhead. Around the corner, two rescuers with spendy rain-slickers seemed to be looking for the boy. One of them stood on the road's shoulder, beating the brush with a stick. The other appeared to be taking a compass reading on her position. Pope inquired about how he might be of assistance, and he was directed to base camp for rescue operations, where he talked to a rescue official. "No, we can't have any volunteers. If you slip and fall, suddenly we've got another rescue to worry about." Pope thought he understood, but he persisted, explaining that he had been trained in the basics of mountain rescue. Pope even dropped a few names, names of big-shots he knew from Tacoma Mountain Rescue, but his help wasn't wanted/needed. Pope promised he could take orders and that he wouldn't be a liability. A dejected Pope drove away, trying to understand how it could be so difficult to find the boy, wishing that he could help search, on a mountain that he knew like the back of his hand. Later he learned that as darkness fell Saturday night, the boy still hadn't been found. A report said that fifty rescuers were searching for the boy, and that rescue efforts would continue into the night. As the boy faced his second night on the mountain, the rescuers were going to bring in dogs to sniff him out. Pope reflected on how he had once hiked this hill twice round-trip in a period of fifty minutes, how it was completely surrounded by roads and even new homes on its south flank. It seemed that with a few more people searching, maybe the boy could be reached before it was too late.

Just checked the NWS site. The wind is up and the glass is falling. Might be a good day to get blown.