ScottP

quote: Originally posted by crazyjz: White Trash Crazy JZ here; I'm the one who ripped the flake, and took a nasty ripper. I sure you think I deserved it. No, I don't think you deserved it. Why would you think such a thing? Detaching large chunks of stone while climbing is a heinous enough experience w/o the added weight of someone wishing it on you. However, I did hear about you and that experience through the pipe. It looked to be about a card table in diameter based on the scar, but how thick was a mystery. Must have been quite a ride.

This is sort of retro, but I hope it will inspire others to post some TR's... Late one night I sat in my house smirking at an enormous amount of gear. "It's only a grade three." I thought out loud. But then the other side kicked in with how it was the shake down cruise for the new ledges Rob and I had built. "Besides," I continued, "Craig's going with us and he's an animal." As expected, the approach was grueling but short. Craig carried the ledges and Rob and I toted all the comforts that could fit in the pack along with half of a healthy aid rack each. At the ledge below the start of the Green Drag-On, we peered up to see a soloist on the second pitch. A query got us the info that he was on the route for the duration. As we regrouped and decided on a contingency, Rob and I flinched in unison at the chiseled torso Craig displayed as he took off his shirt. Eyeing Craig's pecs, Rob commented, "Damn Craig, you could set beer glasses on those things!" Craig feigned ingnorance and we shouldered our load to move over to Dana's Arch. It was fun to watch Rob aid up a route he had previously freed. I commented about he same and received the usual nonsensical answer in reply. Above the anchors of the first pitch sport route, the true nature of Index aid routes became apparent: Rusty, quarter inch spinners, bat holes and odd cam hooking on a sloping ledge got Rob to Cheto Ledge. He fixed the rope and rapped back to the sport anchors where we made our bivy. I had my ledge set up before Rob probably because I wasn't cussing so much. Eventually, Rob got settled and the Beam came out. We drank and spit and talked to Craig barely a hundred feet below us. At one point, Craig got restless so he decided to go to town for some beer. A surpisingly short time later, he reappeared with a sixer of Bud talls and the news that the soloist had bailed from ouroriginally intended route, the Green Drag-On. Rob and I were already lit by the Beam, but merrily hauled our share of the Clydesdale Pee on the zip line. I slept like a baby except for Robs usual foray to piss. Being below him, I was a bit antsy, but he didn't spray me and soon it was light. On Cheto ledge I stared at the awkward starting moves trying to figure out what to do. Rob got comfortable and told me to get my ass on the rock. About 25 feet out I was stymied. The closest thing to a placement was some 10 feet above and as I saw it, the rock was devoid of so much as a hook placement. I told Rob that I thought it might go free just so I could get back to the ledge. Rob took over and much to my embarassment, immediately found a bat hole. He took the line up and out of sight, but after a time he called down that it was my turn. After lowering him and listening to his whining about the difficulties above his high point, I toproped on aid to where he stopped. As I went, I removed and replaced some of his placements, doubting that they would hold my weight as they were. Rob's high point was a new bolt that had replaced a placement behind a flake that was now gone. From the bolt, a long reach to a bathook move and I was then faced with an even longer reach straight out left to a small corner. Holding the loop of an RP with the tips of my fingers, I leaned as for left as I dared. I was just able to gingerly set the nut in a small pocket. I clipped a set of aiders into the RP and spread eagle between the bathook and the RP. Not being able to test the placement, I eased onto the nut as softly as I could, wincing and whining at the thought of falling on the hook and the ensuing long swinging fall when it wrenched from it's hole. Surprisingly, the nut held. A couple of A1 moves and some 5.8 got me to the belay. As Rob jugged the rope, I realized that there was no way he could have made that RP placement, him being shorter than me. Upon reaching my stance, he recounted the numerous failed attempts at getting a placement in the corner. Rob led the next pitch up a ramp and through a small overhang to a comfortable ledge at the base of the last pitch. Looking at our options, we both were puzzled at how to proceed. Straight up was a wet, mungy, spooge-filled something or other that looked hideous. Off to the left about 40 feet was an evil looking chimney that had the makings of a vertical native species garden. It also was dripping water. The lateness of the hour and our meager options left us both with the desire to head down. We quickly rapped to the ground and surreptiously loaded all the heavy stuff into Craig's pack for the walk out. Rob hates leaving things unfinished and soon he had us both walking the road to the top of the Upper Wall with the hope of rapping down to do the last pitch. At the top of the route, I rooted around in my pack in vain for my harness. Not wanting the long walk from where the road was gated to be in vain, I fashioned a harness from an aider and various bits of webbing. It wasn't pretty, but it seemed secure and impressed Rob no end with the ingenuity I took to get it together. We rapped the 100 or so feet down to the ledge we had left two weeks previous, looking at the same dismal conditions we had left two weeks previous as we went. Since it was my lead, I took my time getting things in order, putting off what looked to be a muddy grovel up a groove as long as I could. The very first move required extensive gardening and by the time I clipped the rope into the placement, I was muddy up to the elbows and from the knees down to my soles. Brown water quickly discolored the rope as I pulled out hunks of slimy stuff looking for placements. The groove widened into a proper crack at the half way point and I switched to merely digging holes in the moss and plugging in Friends. The last two placements before the 3rd class traverse to the top could only be seen as half a muddy draw hanging out of a muddy hole with a gritty biner clipped to a chocolate brown rope. By the time I began the traverse, I was soaked from the neck down. Water squished in my shoes with each step. After anchoring the rope and telling Rob to start jugging, I squeezed about a cup of ooze out of each sock and topped it off by pouring several tablespoons out of each shoe. Upon reaching the top, Rob was a bit shocked at the sight of me. I looked like I'd been pinned in a mud wrestling match. Despite the miserable conditions on the last pitch, Dana's Arch on the Upper Wall at Index provides a grand complexity of problems for the aspiring big wall climber. The pitch off Cheto Ledge is definately the crux and may prove quite difficult for short people without a cheater stick.

A big difference between Hood (whatever is going on their) and Rainier is that Hood isn't a Natl Park. The history of climbing on Rainier predates the park. That combined with the huge numbers of people attempting the summit, many using the services of an entrenched guide service, will probably keep the park service from locking out, or severely limiting climbing access. Now, good alternate routes into the Enchantments is what I would like to hear about. [ 11-30-2001: Message edited by: ScottP ]

quote: Originally posted by crank_sloper: Pulling on some crimpers on a stone wall last night and I split a tip real bad. Spurting blood and all. band aided it up today. Anybody know of ways to increase healing time? I heard you can slater it over with aloe gel or tea Tree Oil is also supposed to be good...? [ 11-30-2001: Message edited by: crank_sloper ] One way would be to wipe your butt with it without using toilet paper. That would surely slow the healing process, thereby increasing the healing time.

The approach into the Southern Picket Range was pretty taxing, what with carrying 9 days worth of food, etc. The approach to the lower saddle on the Grand Teton punched my clock pretty well also, due most likely to my sea level system going so high so fast. We also pretty much dogged the upper half of the Direct Exum the following day after making good time on the lower half. Both times I was in pretty good physical condition (having run stairs with a loaded pack 3x per week for a couple of months) I can only think of one climb that got the better of me: West Ridge of Stuart. Lack of adequate cardiopulmonary conditioning coupled with a full day on the Ingalls peaks the day before did me in. Dry heaves and inability to catch my breath forced a stop of what was supposed to be a 4th class ascent and descent of the route.

crusty(krustee) adj, -antique, ancient. "That Fred is one crusty dude." "I clipped into some fixed pins tied off with a rats nest of crusty, offwhite slings."

quote: Originally posted by erik: actually scott the rocker panel is not on the front of the vehicle. they are the strutural support beams that run along the outter edges of the body floor pan and weld into the doort support posts, front center and rear. right below all the doors. typically what you see when you look at most cars is the rocker moulding. you might have been mistaken and were talking about the header panel which houses the headlights and grille. thought you might want to know. just like the fenders are only on the right and left front of all vehicles, in front of the doors. whilst the 1/4 panels are on the right and left rear of each vehicle. behind the doors. I didn't think that sounded right...yeah, it was the header panel. Strip it clean off, but left the lights fullt operative.

Not related to climbing but... I onced owned a car that was hit by a train and only suffered cosmetic damage. (The freight train surgically removed the rocker panel off the front of the car, leaving the lights intact.)

quote: Originally posted by roger johnson: yep, iron horse and city park... just screwing around. Fun routes, for sure. I imagine the gardening on the FA's was extensive.

Roger Johnson of "Roger's Corner" at Index?

After a trip up the Grand in the early 90's, I made the mistake of walking into the Million Dollar Cowboy Bar wearing a sweatshirt with the logo of a basque restaurant named "Woolgrowers" on it.

A post originally posted by Rodchester:"Well I say that Whopper and I went into one place one night for a few cold ones and it was quite clear that we were not welcome there. We stood our ground had a brew anyway and left on our own accord.No fights...but is was painfully clear that we were not welcome there." Reminds me of a friend and I walking into a bar in rural Montana a few years back... two steps into the place and I knew that we had the wrong bar. It was like one of those scenes in a movie where the music stops and all eyes are focused on moi. In this case, all eyes were Native American and they weren't happy to see us lily white boys in their watering hole. Two steps forward and two steps back. I still get the creeps remembering the vibes coming off that crowd. But wait...Darrington Bluegrass Festival late 80's: Two friends and I are unwittingly drinking ourselves into a stupor the evening before a day of climbing up Copper Creek. For some reason there is an arm wrestling match between Doug and myself. I lose and within a minute there is a diminuative chap wearing the classic logger garb challenging Doug to an armwrestling match. Doug makes the mistake of dismissing him with a wave of the hand and a smiley, "Get the fuck out of here." Next thing we know there are two gargantuan chaps in classic logger garb looming behind him, looking very mean. Kevin and I look at each other with the, "Oh fuck!" expression and at Doug with the, "You fuck!" expression. Somehow Doug manages to charm his, and our, asses out of getting soundly thumped by some Darrington logger types with promises of much beer. Some time during the night, I roll under Kevin's monster Dodge Power Wagon to escape the rain and wake up the next morning in a puddle. A fucked up weekend for sure

quote: Originally posted by Rodchester: Well I say that Whopper and I went inmto one place one night for a few cold ones and it was quite clear that we were not welcome there. We stood our graound had a brew anyway and left on our own accord. No fights...but is was painfully clear that we were not welcome there. Since that time we eat at the resturants and go back to our hotel room. No pub crawling for me in Lillooet.

quote: Originally posted by texplorer: Not to be a smart ass but, what's your point? My take is that being pussy whipped makes him a better climber... and he likes that.

quote: Originally posted by jjantz1: in a similar vein to this classic, "ascend easy rock and heather to ..." Which leads one to the timeless, "...turn left at the gnarled shrub..."

quote: Originally posted by Dru: MMMm those Lillooet girls, they braid their armpit hairso pretty, if there was five or six of them together they might have a full set of teeth between them, sort of like Tacoma girls with class. When Tacoma girls say they got class, they mean the WHOLE class.

I enjoyed Fred's description of Spectator Spire in the southern guide:"...a climber-loosened rock crashed into the roof of a Buick parked below..." "The ascent was made by mass tyrolean traverse..." "A direct route has not been made, probably because of unsound rock." FA: Who else?

In late season, I have set up a top rope and done some "seracing" in the moat. Beware your screws melting out. It might be better to hammer in (and perhaps tie off?) some shorter pickets. On the other hand, I have done a six pitch climb up the wall above the western remnants, starting in the obvious low-angle groove to the top of the overhanging block. From there, wander up the path of least resistance. There were pins and an occasional bolt.

Edelbrock manifolds, glass packs and straight pipes for the muffler system. Gives the ride a sound like you mean biness.

quote: Originally posted by Cpt.Caveman: Bushwacking is fun. Everyone should get into it as a new side sport from climbing. Slide alder, berry bushes, thorns, wait an hour vines and the like are friendly. If there aint no bushwack then it aint hard. http://www.alpenglow.org/themes/subalpine/index.html

Up the Cascade River, over Cascade Pass and then down to Chelan would technically be crossing the Cascades, wouldn't it? I can see that taking less than a week.As for walking a road:Seattle to Leavenworth is 104 miles via Highways 522 and 2. 104 miles divided by 7 days is just under 15 miles/day. Your friends must be gimpy if they don't think that can be done. [ 11-02-2001: Message edited by: ScottP ]

Up the Cascade River, over Cascade Pass and then down to Chelan would technically be crossing the Cascades, wouldn't it? I can see that taking less than a week.

quote: Originally posted by Dru: "And every single night, before I go to bed, I get down on my knees and say thank you God that I, I'm a secret agent man." "But not a day goes pastI don't get up off my assAnd thank heaven cause I'm a secret agent man"

quote: Originally posted by goatboy: Does Lucky Lager work as sunscreen? Only if you are so ill from swilling you can't get out of your bag...

quote: Originally posted by Dru: Beware of the Solar slab rappel descent. easy to get lost & endless rappels of doom of sketchy equalized chickenheads. better to go down the descent shown for black orpheus. A few years back I rapped the Solar Slab Gully after doing Black Orpheus. A slow partner (I lead all the pitches) and stuck ropes doomed us to an unplanned night in December about half way down. Plan 1.5 to 2 hours for descending that beast. I later learned of the 2 rappels and walk off via the Painted Bowl.