pope

For his "Manifesto" and its role in accelerating American rock climbing standards and ethics into the European toilet.

That's a good story. Most guys dry-tool in the shower.

Nice TR. That's a good climb. I remember going really light (no tent, no stove, no crampons, no head lamp, no bivi sack, no gore-tex....I didn't even pack poly pro) and then a 3-hour electrical/snow storm blew in as we left the summit. After sitting through a white-out on the glacier, we found our sleeping bags floating in a pond and hiked out in the dark. I also remember that getting on to the ridge was unprotected 5.8, but we easily could have been off route (it could have been the wrong mountain for all I know).

"Clipping bolts and chugging cock. That's what I call a great day in the mountains." Franco de Sitstart

You say there ain't no use in livin' It's all a waste of time 'N you wanna throw your life away, well People that's just fine Go ahead on 'n get it over with then Find you a bridge 'n take a jump Just make sure you do it right the first time 'Cause nothin's worse than a Suicide Chump You say there ain't no light a-shinin' Through the bushes up ahead 'N we're all gonna be so sorry When we find out you are dead Go head on and get it over with then Find you a bridge 'n take a jump Just make sure you do it right the first time 'Cause nothin's worse than a Suicide Chump Now maybe you're scared of jumpin' 'N poison makes you sick 'N you want a little attention 'N you need it pretty quick Don't wanna mess your face up Or we won't know if it's you Aw there's just so much to worry about Now what you gonna do? Go head on 'n get it over with then Go head on 'n get it over with then Go head on 'n get it over with then Go head on 'n get it over with then You're on the bridge; Scared to leap, But a girl walks over To take a peep... She says: "DON'T DO IT!" But wouldn't you know... The girl got a head Like a buffalo With a little red hair All over the top An' her breath would make the Traffic stop She says "I LOVE YOU... BUT FIRST, LET'S EAT!" And all you can say as you run down the street is... Jumbo, go away Jumbo, go away Jumbo leave me alone Get your head off my bone I wanna go home ("I'm hungry") Jumbo lighten up Jumbo lighten up Jumbo give me a break Lighten up on my snake That's all I can take (Robbie take me to Greek Town!) It seems I can't explain The way I feel about you You just don't understand You're from Kalamazoo... You got to realize Our little romance deal Will not materialize Into a thing that you'd call REAL... (I think I have worms...) Jumbo gotta go Jumbo gotta go Jumbo better get back Or your eye will get black When I give you a smack No, Denny, don't hit me... Jumbo don't you cry Jumbo don't you cry Jumbo this is good-bye I ain't gonna lie So wash up your pie Wash up your pie (There are three things that smell like fish!) Wash up your pie (One of them is fish...) Wash up your pie (The other two...) Wash up your pie (Are growing on you...)

Uhhhhh......what kind of stretching should a guy be doing to make this possible?

I've got a theory. Today, our average Seattle-area climber gets his start in the gym or at exit 38, where he learns that sport climbing has pushed the standards well beyond where they were 15 years ago. He reads in his favorite rag that 5.10 is an introductory level by modern standards. Down at the gym, 5.10 seems easy enough since he only needs to clip the rope into fixed quick draws (and since gym owners know that easy grades will boost their customers' confidence/ego and earn their patronage). Back at the crag, our gym rat finds that 5.9 at Castle Rock is a shade harder than the 5.10's he's been sending at the gym. Soon, popular opinion is that the guidebook rating needs to be updated to modern, gym climbers' standards. Thus, 5.9 evolves into 5.10b.

Dude, whatever. What IS true is that Clean Crack is now submerged in Howe Sound.

The crux is hiking up there. Never mind the crack.

Snickers! Snickers and I were gettin' drunk in a bar outside Joshua Tree. He obviously had the hots for the bimbo servin' up the sauce, so he consulted Pope for a pick-em-up line. Observing her numerous piercings, I suggested, "Your ears, your nose, your tongue.....let's see, are we missing anything?" Of course, I suggested that at that point, he should direct his eyes toward her furry nether regions. And he did. It failed, but he impressed me with his audacity.

Use it. Don't abuse it.

We heard concert-master quality yodeling from the team on Easter Tower. (Lauren? Jens? I'll take a lesson!) It inspired a trip to town for a little Bavarian ambiance.

The 50th anniversary of the first ascent of a very tall mountain by this stud is on Thursday. Bow down Big Lou (who is conspicuously absent from the linked list). And Whymper beat Twight. There is a God.

Sons of the Pioneers. Jimmy Rogers. Bob Dylan with Johnny Cash. Those would be my suggestions.

Hey wienerkopf! From the comfort of your sofa, you're getting a laugh out of a route that.... (a) You haven't seen. (b) You haven't climbed. © You don't know shit about. After you climb it (if you can), if you think it's a piece of shit, chop it. Chop both the bolts. Chop 20 more while you're at it....PLEASE! I never claimed it was a great route when I climbed it (10 years ago?). As long as you're at it, you might reconsider what the word "contrived" means. To me, in the context of climbing, a contrived route is one that relied on some kind of artifice (like rapping down to clean and set bolts instead of climbing up and seeing what happens on the lead). Fact is, that 2-bolt variation is hard, and it relies on a minimum number of bolts. And it was drilled and cleaned on the lead. Think it's really stupid? Chop it. I couldn't give a rip. And while you're at it, shove a chicken up your ass.

Frank Zappa was a musician of some renown, viewed by some as a great composer, and was fairly popular. At age ten, Beethoven, a fairly well-known composer himself, was tearing shit up on the piano. Clearly, anything a ten-year-old lad can accomplish is unremarkable, and thus we can rest assured that composing music is kinderspiel. Buenas noches, Poop; and bone swah to Dwayno as well. OMFG!!! THAT IS FUNNY SHIT!!!!!!!!! Pope...i got a buddy who is an old fart at 16 THAT WILL JUST KICK YOUR ASS PLAIN AND SIMPLE on bouldering...i'll make no claims regarding crack climbing, but if you want to distill down to a couple of moves, you and dwayner won't even hang the first set of holds...and he was climbing almost as hard at 12 and 13 as he is now...go ahead and slam me for saying bouldering only, but if he decided to concentrate in the other realms you'll be blown away there as well... Now this took me a minute....but I get it! BFD is comparing the accomplishments of a bolt-clippin' prepubescent to the genius of Beethoven. What a stretch! And I suppose that's funny, comparing the incomparable.

BFD say: - 10-year-old Adam Ondra onsights .13b Anything a 10-year-old boy can do can't possibly be remarkable. Just goes to show you that sport climbing is kinderspiel.

I'd say Clay is going to win American Idol (with Peter Puget's vote).

According to our leader (who occasionally struggles with the language): Apparently, a professor has been arrested in the US in possession of compasses, protractor, and straight edge. It is claimed he is a member of the Al Gebra movement, bearing weapons of math instruction.

Old age gets to everybody, but you can fight back! face lift needed

I believe it has been descended . Now that's good TV. The next big event on that face will be when Dwayner and I descend it sitting on an expedition sled.

Dwayner and I have already bolted every square inch. It's climbed out as of last summer when Dwayner ticked his last proj (think he called it Dr. Abdullah's Butt Paste or something like that). But seriously, Tower Rock is above a kids camp along the Cispus River, if we're talking about the same rock.

This is entirely true, unless your right hand is a prosthesis.

In the Tetons one summer, while lounging down at Jenny Lake, we heard some Frogs babbling incoherently on the path above us (I guess there was some logic to what they were saying but it sounded like French to us). They motioned to us to come have a look, then they departed promptly. Up at the path, we discovered the inspiration for their animated conversation......a large, reddish/brown bear lumbered steadily toward us. We walked back toward the parking lot but waited at the next bend to see what would happen. When the bear rounded the previous bend, it seemed to notice us and began running toward us. We walked calmly around the corner and then ran like hell down the next straight. Just then, a tourist who had apparently been alerted to the bear's location, came down the trail with his wife. "Yeah, fellows I know a bear is coming." (Now to his wife who held a video camera) "OK, when I say 'Now!' just press the green button." Now when the bear came into view, still galloping full-steam toward us, the tourist jumped in front of the camera, signaled his wife to start filming, and then narrated, "This is me, this is the bear! This is me, this is the bear!" as he jumped in and out of the picture. We were sure we were going to witness a bloody mess, but then the bear made a sharp right and jumped into Jenny Lake.

Birthday Boy, turning thirty isn't so bad. Your hair will migrate from your head to more southern locations (on your back, on your toes). You'll put on the pounds until you feel like you're performing every mantle move with a Costco-sized bucket of Crisco tied to your ass. "Alpine start" will mean that by noon, your belay bunny has rubbed Ben-Gay medicated ointment all over your stiff lower back and you're considering the next big move for the morning: deflating all four of your sleeping pads. Recovering from a night of heavy boozin' will take two days instead of one, and you'll have to redefine "heavy boozing". No, it ain't bad at all.