Jman

So, umm... which guides did those belong to that 'jumped ship' from your company?

Yeah, I like the conspiracy theory better. I'd still believe the guides are bailing from being pimped-out by rich management yuppies sending them on death-trips with 'clients from hell' for peanuts. At least it makes for better dirt to rag about. Laundry anyone?

His other cheating snafflehounds must have blackmailed him because they're posted all over the web. Just do a search under his name...

Beck, we want more... but I think it should now include some animation.

This is the Cpt. on cc.com (sorry, when I saw this I thought about this thread and couldn't resist posting the picture)

I don't even believe the story. I think he made it up just to get us riled. Anyone with that kind of an anger problem and that inflated of an ego to brag about it, probably wouldn't survive climbing long enough to do El Cap.

The carnal Teddy and his 'rag doll' snafflehound.

Donna-Top-St... Oh, whoops! I thought I was on the "Pest Bitches in the PNW" thread. Sorry.

Here's a pic of Teddy heading to the crag:

Bravo, Jason. Well stated.

Here's Cavey's future wife:

Hmm. Both PP's posting pitiful points to possibly piss people off. Pretty pathetic.

"Newbie" is a term that has been around a long time and is not limited to climbing. Mr. Antagonizer is somewhat correct - this discussion does sound pretty stupid.

quote: Originally posted by Tod: It's funny that nobody has mentioned adding gear and clothing underneath your pad...Tod I believe Beck has already mentioned it... twice now.

An obvious drawback is cost. But if you can afford it, I see no other disadvantage (assuming you are using it only to boil water). The weight savings can be substantial. If you like to actually cook meals, then a non-stick/teflon variety would probably be better. Here's a link to an interesting comparison on titanium pots. Basically what I learned is that the wider the base of the pot, the more efficient it will be at heating (tall and narrow is very inefficient, too little surface area to conduct heat), hence less time and fuel wasted. Painting the bottom black may help, but only minimally. http://www.backpacking.net/stoves-pots-comparison.html

Matt- Thanks for sharing the experience - it's always sobering to hear of those sad but potential realities. A lesson for us all: glaciers need to be respected so rope up! And learn how to use the rope for rescues. [This message has been edited by Jman (edited 08-29-2001).]

Oh yeah, and some other considerations are the type of handle - is it easy to use? Is the handle secure, or will you end up dumping the whole thing because you got burned or it slipped out of your grip? Also, does the stove and/or fuel fit into pot? This may be convenient not only for storage but also taking up less space in your pack. Personally I use an Evernew Ti Kettle - not too big, not too small, has a relatively wide base and my Primus Alpine Micro and Snow Peak GigaPower fuel both fit into it. And all of it only weighs 1 pound!

Fit, fit, fit. That's what it's all about, my friend. If the boots don't fit right then your feet aren't happy and the boots are worthless, regardless of all their fancy colors, bells, whistles, or claims to greatness. Happy climbing!

Thanks for the trip report. I'm planning on doing this route in two weeks. "Almost grueling"? Heck, any route on Glacier IS grueling!

Go to bed cold - sleep cold. Go to bed warm - sleep warm. Do some activity to warm up before crawling into the sack. Also, drink something hot, like cocoa. Don't bury your face "under the covers" or else the moisture from your breath will soak the bag and ultimately result in a cold night. Carry a better insulating pad (i.e. Thermarest Standard 3/4 length). The R-value is 5.8 - higher than most other pads, hence you'll conduct less heat to the ground. Even though it weighs slightly more, you can now get away with a lighter sleeping bag. So total weight of the two items may be the same or even less. AND, you'll have comfort that's tough to beat. The more comfortable you are, the less you'll move around and hence the less heat you'll lose. Throw your pack down beneath your feet along with any spare clothing - that will insulate just fine, besides your feet have no need for "comfort".

Thanks for the feedback. Assuming you're using boots with rigid soles, I don't see how flexible crampons could be any more comfortable since the boots don't flex anyway. Would this be correct? Also, it seems the biggest drawback with rigids is balling. Don't anti-balling plates solve this? Or do they just not work very well?

Doh! Well, I know better than to put rigids on soft boots. But if the snow balls up, is there really even a need for crampons? (unless of course there is glacial ice under a layer of soft snow).

What are your opinions on using rigid crampons for low-level glaciers? I've never owned a pair or rigids so I'm not sure about the cons. Are they all that uncomfortable to walk in?

Here's the remainder of the list (add your name if you were missed or wish to contribute): 17. Jules 18. Alpine Tom 19. ScottP 20. EddieE 21. Dr. J 22. Epic 23. ehmmic 24. Bronco 25. Ideaguy 26. Dru 27. Erik And the story went like this (just trying to clean it up a bit so it's easier to read): Four years had passed, four years of constant reminders. Every glimpse of a rock face, every postcard of a mountain, every carabiner keychain a reminder of that day. Looking in the mirror........I had to wonder if I still had it in me. Sure, accidents happen and people die in the mountains, but it wasn't supposed to happen to me. And it wasn't really my fault. Even my friends have told me that over and over again. But then why does it plague me so. Why does my gear just sit in the corner? My old partners don't even call me anymore. Deep inside I know I have to climb again. That's what Kristi would have wanted…. Things seemed simple at that time in my life when she and I first met, I was youthful and full of energy ready to conquer the world. Looking back now though maybe I was too careless, blind of my lack of abilities and too willing to take risks. I promised myself to change my ways when I first took her climbing, but I didn’t and my recklessness led to my demise… Remembering is like a dream. Dreams are surreal in color, things are out of place, but in the dream they are natural, the way things should be, the way they have always been. It was supposed to be just something basic. Kristi had been pestering me to go for weeks, so I finally hit the books (Beckey, Volume 3) and found something that would be challenging and suitable for both of us, but not too far out there. Kristi was a very good climber. She pulled down hard at 38 and plugged the pro on Davis Holland. I thought I was a stud because I ran laps on Godzilla. (It didnt matter that even after 2 years of trying I couldnt pull the opening move of The Second Pitch.) This was going to be no problem. Like all trips into the mountains, this one started with us hastily packing the Subaru on a lazy Friday afternoon. Getting to the North Cascades was going to be a casual drive, we were going to miss rush hour. After two hours of driving, we pulled in to the burrito joint in Burlington for an early dinner and a beer. Or two. Beers seemed in order as we were thirsty and having fun, and we knew we'd still make it to Washington Pass before dark. The mood was light; the Mexican beer was dark; I was horny. On the way out of the restaurant, we ran into an unlikely pair -- the mischievous Ray Borbon and the notorious sport climber "Lambone." They too were headed for the pass, but their agenda was different than ours. Different, to say the least. It involved a croquet mallet and ball, but beyond that they would not say, and we didn't want to know. Liberty Bell looked gorgeous in the late afternoon sun and I pointed out one of the 50 crowded climbs that I was gonna do someday. We pulled off and geared up quick to take full advantage of the daylight and crystal clear skies. Kristi was a climbers dream date: gorgeous, easygoing and able to carry her weight and more without a problem. We wanted to get ourselves setup for a solid push tomorrow up Early Winters Spire. We had heard there was some steep sections of ice, but everyone assured us it would be no problem. As we hiked in I was preoccupied with thoughts of my warm tent and how Kristi and I would make it warmer... However, lighting the tent on fire while starting the stove was not one of the ways I had intended to make it warmer. As Kristi and I dove through the flaming vestibule, I lost most of my hair and all my eyebrows. Thank god I had shaved my beard in anticipation of the trip, otherwise things could have been much worse. We both laughed hysterically as we watched the tent melt in a pool of bubbling nylon goo, feeling fortunate not to have lost more than some hair and, for me, a little bit of pride. As the last of the flames went out, Fred Beckey strolled up... "Thought I recognized that stench, seen folks try to burn their tent down like that, but never were they successful, I must congratulate you, a North Face down to the ground, how long did it take?" Embarressed as I was, the simplistic and harmless demeanor of the man whom I had only read about, soothed my wretched nerves. Uhhh, it happened so fast, I guess about... Kristi interupts in her zeal of excitement, "it was under 5 min", as if to impress Fred. She doesn't realize the only reason for this silly small talk that he is graciously engaging in, is due to the fact that she is standing there... naked and me in my wicking rei boxers. Finally, several hours later we find ourselves in the back of the car doubting whether or not to continue on with our misadventure filled trek. Most of our gear had been scorched in the fire, except for the important pieces of gear, we had left the rope outside and the few pieces of protection we owned were blackened, but upon closer inspection seemed to be useable. So the next morning we set off for the climb that changed my life forever… It had been a rough night (in more ways than one). With all of my gear and clothes now a melted pile of plastic, Kristi and I had to take turns sharing my REI boxers. But we survived, despite the frequent trips to the brush (those burritos had taken their toll). But, man! what a night of passion in the backseat of my Subaru! We set off at first sign of light. Kristi strategically placed the shoulder straps of her backpack and wore those cherished boxers of mine. Me? Well, I had the rope and the gear rack... so to speak. We made great timing with our light loads, picking up the pace even more so as to avoid encountering anyone on our approach. Still reminiscing about last night and contemplating our upcoming "climb au naturale", it was almost unfathomable that we ran into Rachel Babkirk the famous Rock and Ice pin-up girl. I managed to stammer out "Aren't..you..uhh..you know..uhhh" "Yeah I'm the hottie from Rock and Ice" Rachel replied without missing a beat. "Have you seen my agent? We're supposed to meet a photographer out here for a photo shoot. He wondered off to mark his territory and I think he got lost". "uhh....uhhh..aren't you.." the strong punch to the shoulder from Kristi dislodged me from my stupor. "Hey do you know you have a big zit on your forehead" Kristi directed to Rachel. "What the f&^%...do you have a mirror!" Rachel replied to Kristi. "Nope sorry..we have to get going..take care trail slu..I mean Rachel" Kristi spat out as she dragged me up the trail by my ear. We pushed on for what seemed like another hour burning more calories swatting at flies than hiking. Just then...... as we hauled our scratched and sunburned butts over yet another brush-shrouded boulder, a tentative male-sounding voice erupted from beside the boulder "excuse me..." Looking to her left, Kristi recognized a pasty white hand protruding from beneath the boulder's brush blanket. Reaching down, she grabbed the hand and hoisted a bald, bespectacled, modestly overweight carp of a man onto the rock beside us. "Excuse me," he began again while carefully wiping his glasses, "you wouldn't by chance have seen my client? - a ms Babkirk?" Noting Kristi's icy glare at the sound of the name, he continued "yes, I feared not... damn this miserable undergrowth! Well, could you perhaps... --- ...shed that backback and work a few au natural boulder moves for me?" he said grinning lecherously at Kristi and fondeling his telephoto lens. "After all, you're much more beautiful than that Rachel wench, and I need a centerfold for the next issue of Rock and Porn with marketing appeal for the 15 to 34 year old male adolescent demographic. Kristi blushed at his flattery. Annoyed at my earlier staring and stammering in the presence of Ms. Babkirk, she agreed to work a few trailside problems in the buff. Standing impatiently in my boxers, I stewed and slapped at the endless legions of mosquitos swarming up from Blue Lake. Finally, after a few too many closeups for my comfort, I drew the line when the perverse old bastard suggested a wide stemming problem. "Enough! It's getting late and we need to get to our climb." "OK, OK"--Kristi donned her backpack and continued up the trail. Seeing as how the creative cretin was lost and needed directions to get back to the trailhead, I was kind enough to tell him about a shortcut: "Just continue South over the next ridge, follow that drainage down a few miles and you'll hit a place called Stehekin in no time." They found the remains of the guy a few weeks later. His photos of Kristi were salvaged and published posthumously (for both of them) in the top selling issue of R&P of all time. I cry every time I see the cover. At the time, my conscience didn't bother me for misleading the old guy. But given what happened on the climb, I've always wondered if I was responsible for the bad karmic juju that came back to haunt us later that fateful day... Turning to the next page is the book..... Our climb seemed to return to normal...at least for the time being. We started to talk about the funny things that have happened so far on the trip. We went further into the things we liked, remembered the things that happened in the past. It almost seemed that the strange things that happen when ever I am around Kristi only happen when I am around her. My life has gotten more boring until I met her. I remember how much I liked it when she was along....I was getting deeper into this, forgetting the fact that we are nudely hiking to the climb that is in several guide books...lost in this crazy thought I almost tripped over this guy who was laying across the trail.. I didn't see him and neither did Kristi. I actually had to jump over him and Kristi let out a yelp just as he almost got kicked in the side by her. He was smoking a joint and had on tye dye and his frizzy hair stood on end. "Dude....that was way wierd the way you jumped over me...." "What the hell are you doing lay-" "Dude you got no clothes on.....your butts sunburned...." Anyway, that was how it went, he was surprised to see us, told us he was from Mazama..he was out to climb too, said the clouds were building up or something...Said two guys with croquet stuff was just ahead of us.... I really didn't want to catch up with the likes of Ray Borbon and Lambone. I didn't know either of them very well but their reputations seemed to preceed them everywhere they went. Knowing they had croquet equipment made me wonder. In the meantime, the guy from Mazama continued to stare at Kristi, but how could I blame him. We decided to continue on and wished the gentleman from Mazama a good climb. I thought the trip was strange up until this point but had no idea how strange it would get. As we were making our way up the approach gully to Liberty Bell I turned to take in the view. Kristi saw my jaw drop and eyes get wide and turned to see what I was looking at. She could hardly contain her amazement as she watched...... Marching up the trail behind us was a grizzled old nondescript man and a clearly whacked skinny guy with unkempt greybeard and frazzled grey locks... seems they were talking about a crazy summer they had spent out as Firewatchers in the North Cascades... "Man, that time I took the LSD that nioght of the big lightning strikes up on Hozomeen, I must of freaked out the forest service, screaming and yelling over the radio like that." says the grey bearded dude. "Well, it sounded like you were sitting on an erupting volcano, the way you were screaming "Oh, the humanity, the humanity' like it was the goddamned Hindenburg! You were always such a freak! I'm suprised they let you keep the post all summer long." counters the more nondescript one. "Man, we're getting old! I wish I was sitting on my mother's couch right now, watching TV and drinking beer." "come on, it's for the good old days, Jack.. it'll keep you young... not like our hitchiking days huh? you were such a desolation angel..." so, we never see these guys for the rest of the climb. I find out later it was Jack Kerouac and Gary Snyder. Jack died on his couch, drinking beer and watching TV years before his buddy Gary. [This message has been edited by Jman (edited 08-23-2001).]

Boy did this get off topic! Hmm. But somehow it seems that all threads eventually lead to the herb, eh Dru?