Dan_Petersen

I knew my hands were gonna get cold.

I remember looking at a boulder problem in the Tetons put up by John Gill and disbelieving that any human could have climbed it. It remains to me a pretty powerful testimony to Gill's ability, and probably also to many other climbers. There's as good a reason as any for walking three miles to a "virgin" boulder, to set a line that you can have your peers be awed at. Bouldering strikes me as more similar to an athletic competition than anything else in the game. You can try and fail at a problem just like you try and fail at ring dismounts in gymnastics. Within your own physical limits, it is a perfectable activity. One can also compare performances with others and "win" or "lose". Some of us like that kind of stuff.

Mountain Epiphany So the geezers finally get their act together to attempt the West Ridge of Sherpa. With work and vacations and family obligations, it has taken all summer. We plan our trip based on an estimate found among these pages that the climb can be done in a long day from the Ingalls Trailhead. This estimate is for fit people, as we discover, and not overweight 50+ has-beens (or probably more appropriately, never-weres). That should end the tale. I’m sitting on a rock alongside the Ingalls Creek Trail getting wet in a brief shower that seemed to come out of nowhere to make me more miserable. I can’t really get much wetter, because the humidity is about 110 percent. I’m fretting about my feet (and this is BEFORE I get to read the bloody sock debate here), and my general lack of fitness, which can be attributed to sloth, beer, beer, and sloth, in that order. Me, me, me, it’s all about me. Then I realize I could be home mowning the lawn (thanks, Alpine Tom). I can look forward to Longs Pass, because “that which doesn’t kill me will make me stronger” (thanks, Will Strickland, although I heard it somewhere before, I think from a drill sergeant). I can spend my time on that lengthy Longs ascent planning what I will say about the trip, which is sure to get me labeled a “bonzo” by the Captain, and I don’t even know what that is, and I am afraid to ask. Whoa, suddenly this is a way better trip than it was a minute ago. Thanks, guys. Just don’t ask for beta, ‘cause we didn’t get within a thousand vertical feet of anything technical. We did find the way trail and I got some sun, though. Oh, and we gave the rope and hardware a nice backpack trip.

None of us will get out of here alive. Nor do we get to choose when we go, or how we go (unless we cheat, of course). One of the wonders of children is that they grow into totally independent beings before we know it. And as they grow we stand the risk of losing them, just as they stand the risk of losing us, always before we are ready, for we are never ready. As several here have pointed out, you can choose to live in such a way that you are happy with yourself. That happiness is infectious to your children, just as unhappiness and fear are infectious. If your children remember you as happy and free, and they can emulate that happiness and freedom, I believe you have left them something more valuable than security. When and how you go is largely out of your control. I have been blest with children to raise, and then to share the world with. I can now climb with one of my son’s and have him take all the hard leads. I can tell you that I worry far more about his anchors and knots than I do my own. Even though he is the far more competent climber, I am still the father, taking responsibility. How silly love is. My head knows it is his responsibility, but my heart can’t grasp it. If my children were to die before me, I wonder if I could stand it. Yet, we must stand it. My father and mother died when I was fairly young, and hardly a day and never a week passes that I don’t think of them. I like to think that those thoughts strengthen their souls. I would want to do the same for my children, if I had to, as long as I lived, and of course, I would hope they would want to do the same for me. This is all far afield from where this thread started. What happened on September 11th has colored my thoughts, as I am sure it has colored everyone else’s. We watched untold numbers of heroes go in harm’s way for altruistic and unselfish reasons and pay the ultimate price. Parents and children are left behind to deal with life in the absence of ones they love. All the great responses here are uplifting because it shows how seriously we all take parenthood. I think there are no clearly right or wrong answers, but there are definitely many diverse good answers (and good parents) included here. And, on a lighter note, David, if you think he thinks he already knows everything at six, wait ‘til he’s thirteen! Maybe it’s time to re-direct the discussion to the biggest challenges we face when we head for the hills with the kids. How about how to deal with a bedwetting accident three days into a seven-day backpack trip (been there, done that, no good answers)? Or how to convince a child that, no, the injured frog (crow, bat, snake) she found can’t be taken home and nursed back to perfect health?

My experience has been that just about anything outside, done in moderation, is absolute heaven for kids. I suggest car camping first, mostly so you can do some shakedown in a low stress environment. Short walks from the campground, as well as any kind of water activity (fishing, wading, skipping rocks) is good fun that they won't get at home. Once you graduate to hiking, resign yourself to carrying all the gear for a while, since nothing turns kids under ten off much faster than hiking with a pack (although with all the backpacks at school these days, this might have changed). Try not to push past their comfort level too fast. When they say they are scared, it doesn't really matter than you think they shouldn't be. Crossing streams on logs and traversing snow covered hillsides fall into this category. Some kids you can't restrain from going in over their head, and some you have difficulty convincing they are capable of the easiest physical challenge. There is no way to know what you have to deal with until you are into it. The best thing about taking the kids is that you are giving them a gift that doesn't break or wear out. There is nothing better than having your kids tell you how much they loved the campouts and hikes years later. Enjoy.

So, there's a Freudian slip. I definitely prefer climbing over mowning (moaning all the way, I might add) the lawn. I even prefer bouldering to mowning the lawn, and to mowing the lawn, too.

Couldn't find anything on the web, but I remember reading this AM in the print Times that it was couple "climbing or hiking" in the Kangaroo Ridge area.

Jman, congratulations to you on your recent fatherhood. I suppose I have to confess that I have raised five (a "blended" family). They are all adults now, and we have three grandchildren and counting. I can see my last comment was awkward and incomplete, and doesn’t really cover what I had in mind. I’ll try again. I think that if a parent gives up something that they love for their children, a strange tension is born. Some parents can handle that negative tension with grace and others cannot. Children, I believe, can sense that tension, no matter how well a parent tries to cover it, and some don’t try very hard. That is the “taint” that I have in mind. I’ll make one more observation that I can’t resist. Becoming a parent is like the start of what appears to be a straightforward ascent. It isn’t, and it gets harder as you near the top. It also never ends. Trite, I suppose, but very true.

In a different thread, Dan Harris posted the following quote from Alex Lowe: “If you remove all of the risk, you remove all of the challenge. If you remove all of the challenge, you’ll just wither on the vine.” Pope replied: “Gee, Dan, I’ll bet Alex’s boys think that is really special. Guess being a dad wasn’t risky enough for him.” It seems to me that what sets climbing apart from other sports or pastimes is that element of risk. It is personally fatal risk that I’m talking about, not the risk of failing your children, or the risk of putting others in peril due to faulty engineering, or the risk of embarrassment when public speaking. Some may view Alex Lowe as having failed his children somehow by continuing to pursue a personally risky lifestyle after their birth. I do not. Many years ago I was bouldering at Camp Long and spent some time watching a tow-headed boy about ten years old bashing his head against a 5.9 problem while on belay by an older man (old to me then was anyone in their thirties). I commented to the boy that he looked like he had the makings of a John Harlin, mostly because of the blond hair and the do-or-die attitude. Harlin had recently died on the Eiger Diretissima. The youngster literally glowed at my comment, and the man belaying him told me it was John Harlin’s son, who has since become an accomplished climber and writer himself. I doubt that he felt that his father had failed him in some way by going off to try the Eiger and dying in the attempt. Being a parent is an awesome responsibility. Being there for the child is a big part of that responsibility, certainly. Another big part of parenting is to act as an example. What little I know of Alex Lowe, he appears to me to have set a wonderful example for his sons. He obviously had lasting friendships, a sensitive attitude toward the environment, a commitment to physical fitness, a commitment to education (based on his ability to write, at least), and strong dedication toward achieving goals. He also embodies the idea that it is important to act on your dreams, even if you are personally afraid of the consequences. While he might not be there in person for his sons, his example does remain. Such an example might well have been tarnished if he had held himself back from a pursuit that he obviously loved simply as a sacrifice for his children. This is my opinion, of course, and I’m posting this to hear from others as well. Happy Monday.

Sounds to me like a writing utensil in the mountains these days is a useful tool. Of course, a note might make Stefan's rationalization of theft a little more convoluted. I can envision the epic retreat where I leave the second rope behind on the last difficult rappel. I note carefully that I will return to claim it and that it was really necessary to leave it to ensure my survival. Stefan finds said rope and note, labels my explanation insufficient and confiscates my rope and picket as my penalty for not meeting his standards. After all, I've been warned.

I was wondering where I left that comb.

It's not nice to gloat. We just tell you the weather is awful so you'll stay home and suffer like the rest of us have to. You need to start using your days off to fix running toilets and important stuff like that.

I think the genesis of a new route goes something like this. First, a gleam in the eye as a new line shows possibility. Second comes a reconnaissance (or many) and an ascent. During this stage the route remains secretive to protect it for its first ascender. Third comes an announcement of the route’s completion within the climbing community. Finally its presence is published in some guidebook. Someone’s ego is involved in every stage but 1 and 2. Maybe the dilemma of the internet is that criticism and feedback is so direct. If you establish a new route, you have created something like an artwork. Once that work is out in the public, criticism follows. Unlike doodles or watercolors that you do for your own edification, climbing routes (especially those where anchors and protection are left behind) are public. If you do a great job, the route becomes a coveted classic, but not without a number of ascents by other climbers and a fair amount of criticism regarding the route’s quality and difficulty. If you do a crummy job, the criticism ensues, and then obscurity. Seems to me it is the nature of the game. Now for a serious question. Why do new routes and not share them? There is risk that critics you don’t respect might pan your effort, but there is also the reward of sharing something you are proud of with an appreciative audience. If you share the information on the internet, the feedback comes almost immediately, and it comes often from sources for which you have no respect or admiration. On the other hand, if you keep the information to yourself, or to a select number of like-minded friends, you may never really know if what you created is a hack job or a masterpiece. Of course, you might not care, either. Either way, I’d be interested.

Captain, nobody works at Boeing. Can you describe Boeing work gloves?

No complaints about REI's product line, or capitalism in general. In comparing MEC to REI, I would suggest the difference may lie in management. REI has taken a path toward mainstream retailing and hired retailers to run the place. They know their business, but suffered under the same blinkered vision most management had the last few years, believing unlimited growth was a given. I also suspect they believe the standard retail axiom that you must grow or die. My opinion is that with a co-op that may not be as true as with a mainstream retailer, as your membership has a shared interest in your success that a retailer's clientele may not have. Maybe MEC has taken a more conservative tack regarding growth, which was the right answer for this year, anyway.

Interaction on this site is akin to arguing politics with your cranky uncle. Be prepared for emotional and illogical responses to what you view as intelligent and balanced arguments. Your uncle may even be reduced to asking you into the backyard to be taught a thing or two that his verbal skills have limited his ability to convey to you. Is this response immature, yes, but not unexpected. Useful communication does happen on this site. Most of the “dialog” here, though, tends to be simplex transmission, all transmit, no receive, just like your uncle. I don’t take it as representative of the sport. It’s for fun. On a personal note, thanks for your excellent website on Darrington (which I found through this site), and also for your personal efforts on trail maintenance there. I'll try to turn out next time to help.

Only speculation, but at least in the Northwest, guidebooks changed about the time the revised Beckey guide first came out. The 1960 version was succinct, if a little vague at times, and all the things you note about the Canadian guides. I would bet that when Fred approached the Mountaineers with his new volumes, no one was ready to function as editor for his new convoluted and wordy production. I don't think I'd be willing to stand up to him and point out the error of his ways. As they say, the rest is history.

Well said. I tried three times and every attempt came out a rant. Whenever some group begins to refer to themselves as a "movement" its time to run like hell. All "movements" I've run across always know what's best for you, despite your protests to the contrary.

So, is Holly dating you, but not because of your book collection, or is she not dating you because of your book collection? I like the second option better. Inquiring minds need to know.

Forrest, you are correct. I'm interested in repeat ascents of routes that an individual has done before. For me, the question of rationale for going back after a failed attempt is easier to relate to. The goal is still there to be attained. I think you are right on about climbing at your limits. Everyone's limits are different, and limits change with experience. To some, a grade IV alpine route isn't at their limit, but might be just the sort of tune-up they would use to judge their current level of fitness. That makes it all the more impressive to me.

I just got back from a trip with a friend of mine who has a remarkable climbing resume. During the course of our trip I asked him if he ever had a desire to repeat any of his big ascents and his basic answer was “no”. This makes me wonder about climbers generally. How many of us really want to go back and repeat serious routes (grade IV and higher, mostly)? He made an observation about the nature of big climbs that I agree with. He feels that what makes them so hard isn’t just the physically demanding nature of the effort itself, but also the various stress factors involved that are out of your control, like weather, or rockfall. These factors combine to make the overall activity far more difficult than a more strenuous physical challenge that holds no objective risk (like competitive distance cycling, for instance). Once he has attained a difficult goal, he doesn’t feel any desire to repeat the route and undergo the stress and uncertainty another time. I can understand that. I also think that other climbers don’t have the same perception, and will tackle difficult routes multiple times after a first successful ascent, even if they have been in dire circumstances on the route (like getting injured). Any thoughts on the attraction that difficult routes hold to repeat ascenders?

I'm with the Captain. This is a silly attempt to make the results of someone's poor judgement into an adventure tale. I thought it was funny that these naive children thought they would appear somehow different to the natives because they were "climbers". Ugly Americans don't all have pot-bellies and loud shirts.

"Endeavor to perservere". Chief Dan George to Clint Eastwood in The Outlaw Josey Wales. He might have been quoting old Calvin himself, as the quote was attributed to the President of the United States during the old Indian's visit to Washington. We can now see that the Native Americans simply lacked perserverance and about 100,000 reinforcements.

Way off this entertaining topic, but here's some info on the re-rate of Steck-Salathe. http://www.cs.berkeley.edu/~qtluong/mountain/yosemite/sentinel2.html

Thanks to all. I'll start simple with the Sun and work up from there. My wife suggested a rinse in Vinegar, which may be the reason the smell is virtually gone (virtually being a relative term).