pope

Let's say that at a belay, you're trying to get slings of variable length to terminate in a common "power point". You can decrease a sling's length with a "tornado knot", which starts like a fig-8, but has several wraps around the sling before plunging through the final loop, thus shortening the sling's length more than other knots might. After 18 years of climbing, this is my only contribution to the advancement of mountaineering.

That's splendid...when you have those bumper stickers printed, be sure to make an extra one for me, even though Burp is an arrogant dork. Mentioning bumper stickers, I saw a gem this week: "I believe in tit for tat. Would you like some tat?"

While some of the stories from the Cirque Expedition are pregnant with unverified "facts" and anecdotes that border on fantasy, other episodes are based entirely in reality. I worked several summers for a community college climbing school that had a Rainier class, which culminated in a summit attempt for the students. I brought along a friend to help with the rope work one weekend, in what was to be his first Rainier climb. Apparently I forgot to explain to him how the blue bags work, and that shitting out in the elements, regardless of what sort of storm is brewing, is par for the course. While I was out gathering snow to melt for drinking water, I heard an alarming, "Oh no!" from inside the tent. Turns out my buddy had tried to crap into a blue bag by straddling it....and missed! The elusive turd had splashed down on my sleeping pad. I kicked his butt out of the tent and made him thoroughly clean it in the snow. Then he moved into our neighbor's tent, and our neighbor (Donna Top-Step) moved in with me. And you guys thought the Cirque stories were just a bunch of crap!

On-SITE....that's where we all is, right here, right now!

Golly, our willingness to compromise our style of ascent, with the intent of "ticking" routes featuring grades that aren't reasonably within our abilities, has resulted in what can only be regarded as an embarassing expansion of mountaineering vocabulary. Pink point, red point, on-sight, brown-point....these (euphemisms for "aid climbing") contribute to and provide evidence of the modern pussification of what was once a MANLY endeavor. I'm talking about mountain climbing, in case we've forgotten. On-sight. Pardon me while I vomit. Back in the day, we didn't use such a degrading term to describe the style of an ascent. "On-sight" was the way the majority of pitches were climbed the majority of the time. Climbing at your limit meant getting pumped and scared, coming close to the edge...but falling? Hanging? You just didn't do it. And if you made a habbit out of it, you understood that you were kidding yourself, that you were climbing in poor style, the style of ascent that will get you killed in the mountains. So, you didn't do it. We didn't say "on-sight" because it was assumed. Claiming an "on-sight" ascent was parallel to saying you banged the gal down the street...and you didn't have to pay her.

I think I've told this one before. Anway, my buddy got lucky in J-Tree one evening, with a gal who split the following day. He filled me in on all the details over lunch, which for him consisted of a "California" burrito, one of these grease-bomb deals that's got everything from taco-chicken to french fries and spouts, all zipped up in a tortilla. This thing had sat in the car all night and through the following morning. That afternoon, my buddy turned green as frog on Drano, ran behind a rock and didn't come out for 15 minutes. Turns out that he had developed explosive diarrhea and had been unable to drop his shorts before the show started. He ran straight for the tent to, as Frank Zappa would say, "WASH UP HIS PIE". While he was in the tent, another gal he knows arrived in camp after a long drive from who knows where. As soon as she identified herself, I knew a golden opportunity had presented itself, and I quickly told her, "Sure I've seen him today. He's right over there in the tent, and he can't wait to see you."

He tried the same stunt one night with me. I was coming down from the Sauna Sausage high and thought a meeting in a bathhouse sounded like a splendid way to wind down. I show up (in my Speedo, as per request), and I ask Mr. Trask, "So, where's my towel?" He replied, with a grin and a shrug, "....maybe you'll just have to drip-dry before you get dressed." Dan, watch out for this guy. I heard he "smokes the skin-doobie".

I prefer to live in an area near good climbing and skiing, but I don't want to live in BF Egypt either. I like a town that's got a little of everything, that's big enough that a man can keep himself entertained, yet small enough that the housing is cheap. Since I don't climb every day, I don't mind driving a couple of hours to get to the good granite. For example, I'm three hours from Leavenworth....which is just perfect, since I can be reasonably sure none of the ladies in town are going to know my real name. Heh heh heee. So, allow me to step out on a limb and suggest Bonney Lake, WA, as a hot little climbing town. Never heard of it? Dork. We're about an hour from good skiing at Crystal Mountain, and even better, I can be inside of MRNP in about forty minutes. Bend, Boulder, Squamish...I suppose they've got their attractions, but do you stand a chance there of running into Big Lou at the grocery store? I think you do not. In Bonney Lake, WA, you're less than two hours from Big Lou's Bunkhaus, where, if you're lucky, you'll have a chance encounter with the jolly giant. Have your copy of Memoir's of a Mountain Guide ready for a signature, and be prepared for a mighty hand shake. That's right, you heard right. Yes, yes. Bonney Lake, WA. We've twenty minutes from Dwayner's Alpine Lounge, where the action is always hot. We're 45 minutes from Sauna Sausage, 20 minutes from Foody Goody's all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet, 20 minutes from Spire Rock, where you can you put your liberal-arts diversity training to the test and climb in an urban setting (through broken glass, gang graffiti, urine stench). And you can maintain a world-class fitness level running the trails of Mt. Pete (only 20 minutes away).

8 something

In light of this developmenet, you guys might want to think twice before announcing that a particular contributor to this BB "SUCKS"....when it's more likely that he/she blows.

Answer: 2592 just happens to be the product of the fifth power of two with the second power of nine.....that is, 2592 = 2^5 x 9^2. Charlie, how 'bout the old number 71? That's with two spectators. BTW, how was Joshua Tree? Was "bang-bang" Hemlock up to his old tricks?

2592....anybody know why dis one be special?

"MAN-GOO" Mike, Dwayner told me all about it. Damn. Sorry we never climbed. Hope you find plenty of cold climbs and hot bimbos back in Boston.

Is she letting Jim drink beer again?

START OVER! Don't even go there, girlfren. That is so not funny. I'm thinking Oprah would make a pretty good bouldering pad, and a guy would only look half as goofy carrying her around on his back. But Oprah on the Big Wall? Forgetaboutit. You couldn't pack her lunch in a Grade VII A5 bag...how the hell are you going to feed her on the big stone?

Sure you have to give up a little time....best damn thing that ever happened to me was getting hitched. Prior to this, I spent so much time in the mountains, I was growing fur and horns. Too much climbing can make a man exceedingly dull. Not only that, climbing as much as you want, whenever you want for more than a decade can almost take the thrill and adventure out of it. It gets to be like work, and while the magic and adventure of it all seem to vanish...the danger of climbing at your limit (and I ain't talking about pink-pointing a bolt trail) becomes more obvious. I enjoy getting out to climb more now than I did when I had all the time in the world, and when I'm not climbing, my life is twice as rewarding as it used to be. Not to mention all of the opportunities for exotic split-tail that confront a married man wearing a ring (the college girls think you're more mature than the other clowns in the bar..heh heh heh). Know what I had for dinner? The Frau made a special turkey-noodle soup, with wheat noodles made from scratch. Sound good? Trust me. And over the holidays, I put on about five pounds, eating home-made cherry pie, pumpkin pie, Christmas treats....even helped the little lady make some special Thanksgiving cupcakes (decorated to resemble Tom Turkey). Yeah, sure beats Top-Ramen with a bunch of stinky college roomies. My wife thinks climbing is just ridiculous. She's not interested, and that's the way I like it. Naturally, when it's time to escape, she gets jealous of my time, and I've got a couple of devices to help silence the complaints: Wednesday and Thursday, do your best to be a pain in the ass. Perfect this routine and SHE'LL be the one suggesting you go climbing. When you do stay home for the weekend, make sure your most obnoxious climbing buddies come around. She'll get to the point where she prefers that you spend time with them AWAY from the house. Bring a little something back from you big weekend climb. My Frau likes a jug of orchard-fresh apple juice (I've got her convinced one can only find this near Leavenworth). Finally, the best advice I got going into this arrangement was the following: the sooner you lose the argument, the sooner you get to go golfing.

I'd just like to add that anybody who called MattP "the old man who is just trying to be cool".....that person doesn't know from MattP. I've met the man. He is cool. He is effortlessly cool.

Icegirl, are you for sale? I mean, how can you look so scalding hot and be so frucking frigid? Mike, you're trying to tell me you're going to quit this gig? Bullshit you are. I noticed you didn't put TRASK up for sale. Try telling me you're not TRASK, and try..just try to convince me that we're not going to see you around here (hiding behind the bushes, flingin' your MAN-GOO at us!).

Take your pick, but I'd go with snotty. Look, I'm not really proud of the way I've degraded myself by joining in the mud fight that evolved out of bolting discussions. I'm not sure how it got to be so nasty, but I became agitated with sport-climbing advocates who suggested that those who want to see a restrained approach to bolting are narrow minded, that they are opposed to any new stylistic or technological approach to climbing, that they are conservative, that they are technically incompetent, and so on.I'm pretty sure my nastiest comments (and you've managed to unearth one of them) were responses to the unfair assertions I just mentioned. One characteristic of this BB that I do appreciate is that although competent climbers do contribute to the discussions, most of them avoid "show-boating" their accomplishments. When novice climbers ask for advice, I almost never hear experienced climbers trivializing easy climbs by saying, "Oh, I climbed it with a broken arm," or "We cut the guide-book's suggested time in half." This kind of attitude would qualify as "snooty", the way I interpret it. I've heard plenty of it over the years, but fortunately not here.

Yous guys should cut it out already! Sure the Mounties have got their peculiarities, but the jokes get a little old.... OK, so this one time, my buddy Rob and I were approaching Chimney Rock when a group of Mounties passed us on the trail. Based on the speed at which they traveled, we assumed they were on their way to one of those square-dance functions (you know, where BOTH of the female members in that club are expected to attend, and the guys get all upset). We camped below our objective, from where we could hear belay signals above us until about a half an hour after dark. "Bruuuunnoooooh....you...are....off...belay!" Next morning we got a late start, with more belay signals functioning as our alarm. We scrambled up the glacier and slipped into our rock shoes, then caught up to these guys in about three pitches. Talking about a fluster cluck, these guys had been climbing out of their bivouac for about two hours, and they didn't appear too pleased to see us. No, we would not be allowed to pass, and BTW, this is definitely an ALPINE climb. I think these comments were made in reaction to my care-free wardrobe...T-shirt, cheetah-look lycra leotards, no pack, etc. These guys were taking their enormous packs on up with them, while wearing full winter-weight garb (one even sported a pair of super gaiters). We worked around on easy ground to their left, then finished the route with a no-pro 5.7 arete that put us on the summit. We had descended the route and hiked most of the way out of the valley when we noticed that these guys were still tackling the summit block. And it ain't like we're all that fast.... The Mounties: fastest on the trail, slowest on the rock.

On the other hand, the site is defined by the attitudes and accumulated contributions of its users. Spread the word that it's a fun place to chat and occasionally get some great information, and then let the people come and find out whether it's for them useful and entertaining. How should Jon/Tim moderate to attract a wider variety or larger number of climbers? If it is truly "snotty" attitudes which repel all of these potential posters, then changes would, I assume, take the form of monitoring and perhaps censoring those who already contribute....is that what we really want? If I can't be free to bitch about bolts and those who place them indiscriminately, even at the expense of stepping on a few toes, then I say, "Adios." This argument is almost as tired as the bolting one. How many times have we discussed whether spray and its derivatives negatively impact this site? How many times have we argued over whether "cleaning up our acts" would attract a wider variety of climbers, and maybe some classier acts? Also, MattP, let's not confuse "snooty" with "snotty". When I expressed concern over the retro-bolting of a Leavenworth climb, a number of guys responded by suggesting, "Come on, Pope. The reason you're so cranky is that you're just an old has-been. You're upset 'cause the kids on the sport routes are pulling down numbers that you can't. It's not the rock that's been damaged, it's your ego." (an obvious paraphrase) A snooty response..and I considered it...would have been to defend myself by saying, "I climbed this, and I soloed that." I'm occasionally guilty of projecting a snotty attitude, but never a snooty one. MattP, relax my friend. Again, I enjoyed your Lane Peak report. And Daryl, sorry I didn't participate in your trail project. I can count the number of times I've made it out of the house this year on the fingers of one hand. I appreciate reading your perspectives on this BB, and your SKY VALLEY ROCK guide is superb. Have a nice day. [ 01-04-2002: Message edited by: pope ]

The only climbers I've talked to who don't check in to the site, yet who are aware of it, seem to have a snooty attitude about it, as though participation assigns you to a class of mediocre climbers. Oddly enough, their abilities aren't really extraordinary either, and many of these guys admit that the banter can be humorously entertaining. I guess I don't really miss hearing from a bunch of stuffy guys who think they're one phone call away from getting sponsored by Power-Goo or some such horseshit. As Jens points out, the information about ice conditions can save you hours of driving; this kind of information was previously unavailable. On the otherhand, if you're stuck at home raising a child or working on a paper, you can jump on the boards and entertain yourself with snappy alpine chat.

Yes, it's a hoot, Sisu. And feel free to accomodate Dwayner's appetite for sweaty Finnish lads next time you're ready for sauna time (instant sausage, just add water).

Ideal conditions seem to come during a light-snow year, and after an intense warming is followed by a cold snap without precip.....a complicated formula to be sure. One way around the ridiculous 9:30 a.m. gate opening is to bivy in the heated restrooms at Narada falls. Nice report Matt. Pope.

I would like to extend my gratitude to Mr. Dwayner for introducing me to SAUNA SAUSAGE. That’s right, yes yes, you heard right: SAUNA SAUSAGE. It all started when Dwayner suggested that we bring in the New Year right…not by boozin’ all night, sleeping ‘til noon, then bitching about a headache all day. No sir. We reject all of these traditions. Instead, we drank only half the night, got up at dawn, then bitched about our headaches all day while trail running near North Bend, and then Dwayner got an idea. Perhaps it was Pope’s mention of the Bacon-Egga-McBiscuit w/Cheese he had eaten for breakfast, perhaps it was the intense winds pounding Rattlesnake Ridge…whatever the inspiration, Dwayner suggested what would turn out to be the perfect New Year’s ritual: SAUNA SAUSAGE. I had no idea what the hell this meant, especially with Dwayner’s strange pronunciation of these words (sowna sowsudge). We drove from North Bend to a beautiful home on Lake Washington’s shore. When a kind and elderly woman answered the door, Dwayner uttered the words: SAUNA SAUSAGE. She erupted in laughter and immediately went outside to start the sauna, which, she explained, would not be ready for an hour, since it would need to reach about 220F before it could be considered ready for SAUNA SAUSAGE. Now I knew, SAUNA SAUSAGE did involve a sauna, and I began to suspect that a sausage would be somehow be key. After an hour of chatting with these gracious and remarkable people (she had in Finland researched the problem of determining the identity of the father when a mother suspected more than one possibility, and told of a young mother who revealed that each of the players on a local soccer team was quite possibly the father), Dwayner and I proceeded to the scalding-hot sauna, where, as you can probably guess, an enormous kielbasa sat cooking over the heating element. Our Finnish host explained that after eating sausage and drinking beer in the sauna, we were invited to enjoy a dip in the lake; she suggested that we should perhaps go in and out three times. Dwayner and I took her recommendation, going in and out three times. Then we got out of the sauna and, after cautiously climbing off the dock and into Lake Washington, immediately jumped back out of the frigid water. As we returned to the sauna, we noticed our hosts watching the show from the balcony, and we promised ourselves not to disappoint them with our next swim. In fact, we not only vindicated ourselves with a lengthier swim, we returned for a third and fourth swim. Then Dwayner announced to our hosts, “We found the experience to be so thoroughly invigorating, we returned for an extra lake swim. We are the hardy sons of the men who defeated the Nazis!” And with that, we ran for the sauna. Valuable SAUNA SAUSAGE lessons learned: 1. Don’t leave your sausage fork in the sauna, or if you do, expect it to reach the temperature of boiling water. 2. Anything left dangling stands a chance of being burned by the element.3. Sweaty man love is more easily performed when the man is already sweaty (although I’m only passing on this wisdom second-hand).4. When eating sausage in a dark sauna, you can expect to experience a couple of fork-wounds as it can be difficult to distinguish between sausages and appendages.