JayB

quote: Originally posted by max: I'm not sure how following is less of a luxury than tr-ing? The bottom line is they're both "not leading". And does following do any less damagethan tr-ing? It seems one gets just as much enjoyment, takes the same amount of risk, and cause the same amount of damage following as some dude or dudette tr-ing. Word.

I want to climb Mt. Terror just so I can impress non-climbers with the name! Probably also an impressive mountain even though I only know it by name at this point. There's nothing worse than hard/scary routes with easy names. No matter how much you try to impress your audience with tales of the sick route you did on the Snugglebunny Buttress they just don't seem to appreciate it!

FWIW for all of those in the PNW (Maybe someone's heading out here for some skiing, vacation, etc.): Mt. Lincoln: 01-13-01. Cold. Temps maxed out at about 10 degrees, with lots of spindrift and wind all day, perhaps to welcome the chap from the Isles who was out there for a visit. The ice was the hardest I've ever encountered - picks either stuck like a hatched buried in an oak stump or bounced off. -Central Flow: Mega-fat blue ice all the way to the to - Probably at least three feet thick all the way up. Has healed up nicely from the steady flows despite seeing heavy traffic. Sweet. -Left flow: Not in a month ago but it's also mega-fat and has seen relatively little traffic. -Central pillar: hooked and hacked out in a big way, with a 3" crack across the base about six feet up. Felt solid but rung like a bell with each non-hooking placement. Will be very spooky when the temps change. -Right Pillar: hacked to pieces. What hasn't been hacked off has for the most part melted. Looks like translucent swiss cheese at this point. On the photo below you can see the right pillar in early season conditions. The entire flow has been knocked down at this point. Guess that's what happens when there's bolted anchors on top. I'm sure it was fun to TR but a shame that it got so trashed. Note: A nice flow has come in just left of the right pillar and looks very fresh. Short but sweet. Photo: www.climbingboulder.com/ice/db/hoosier_pass_lincoln_fall/

Well, I guess it had to happen sooner or later. Not a bad showing thus far. To “Panther” : 5.0 for technical difficulty for taking the time to include the bit about you growing up in Colorado amidst all of the “JayB SUX!” business, but only A 2.5 for artistic merit for not coming up with something more original. FWIW I grew up in Washington (resident from 1979-1998) and just moved to CO in 1998 for the climbing, skiing, etc sans the rain. I’ll be moving back to the PNW this March and staying for 10 months or so before moving to Wyoming for a few months. AlpineK: No score yet – maybe honorable mention. Still on the cool guy list for all of the posts ripping on Tele-Skiers with cosmic pretensions

Apologies in advance for the preachy tone on this one, but I for one have had just about enough of this topic. Beyond the fact that yet another repetition of a tired theme makes this a lame thread, it seems as though what we have here is a bunch of grown-ups taking shots at a guy they’ve never met just because they’ve seen other people do it. In my opinion, this reflects more poorly on the person hopping on the “Dan Larson Sucks” bandwagon than it does on Dan. It sucked in junior high and it sucks now. As a matter of fact, I’ve come to admire the way the guy can take levels of abuse that would make most of us flee this message board and seek therapy and keep on posting.Granted, some of Dan’s posts have been less than stellar, but they hardly stand out for special consideration amongst they rest of the useless shit that gets posted by most of us from time to time. Having said that, if you have If had a specific interaction with Dan that compels you to declare that in your opinion, he sucks (e.g. Alpine K et al), or are just giving the guy a good natured ribbing – fine. If you’re just another guy hopping on the bandwagon to show that you’re one of the guys – you suck

Sorry to hear about our fallen comrade.Very sad indeed, and just a bit spooky as I spent a day in the Designator Ampitheater in mid-December just prior to heading out the PNW. I didn’t plan on hanging out there as everything in the area is too hard for me to even consider leading at this point (Could maybe do the Designator if it’s in fat, late-season, WI4 peg-board condition), but one of the guys working on a new mixed line behind The Fang let us cruise up the Designator on his TR. Very cool guy – hope this wasn’t him or one of his buddies. I was involved in a rescue operation at Vail last year at Pitkin Falls, which was a sobering experience indeed. Just on the off chance that the story will prove useful and/or interesting to anyone else out there, I’ll hack out a chronology of the affair. My partner got and I got an early start and beat the weekend crowds that morning, thanks to redundant alarms and a couple of beds in nearby Frisco. During my lead a couple of other parties showed up and jockied for position at the base. It was my first year climbing ice, and even though most of the climb was in ideal condition, the easy WI4 route had me pretty gripped. From our previous lap on the route I knew that the worst part lay ahead – the 15 feet of unconsolidated snowcone-esque crap that lay between the final bulge and the anchors. I ground in a 22cm screw a few feet below the base, cleared the bulge in as good a style as I could muster, and headed for the top. In the meantime my partner had been giving the leader from the next party pretty detailed beta on the conditions of the climb after being approached by him, making special note of the slop at the top. My partner followed me up and we rapped down as this fellow was getting ready to make his first placements. I watched him start-up a harder line to the right as we consolidated our gear, and he looked very solid and confident as he made his way up. We retreated into the cave behind a curtain of ice at the base for lunch and tea as a guide and a couple of his clients arrived at the base. We emerged from behind the ice-curtain about 30 minutes later and stopped to take a look at the other parties before heading down. I took a quick look over my shoulder and something about the scene behind me prompted me to stop and take a closer look. At first glance something about the position of the other climber looked just a bit off, and after a spending a surprisingly long time looking at the guy I asked myself “Why in the hell is that guy hanging out in an upside-down figure four stance on TR? Why are all of his screws still in below his last screw if he’s on TR? Why is his TR set-up mid-climb off of a single screw on top?” It’s embarassing to admit that I actually scrolled through all of these questions mentally, but the demeanor of the other people involved in the situation was strangely incongruous with the predicament that the guy pulling the upside down figure four off of his last screw was in. Namely, no one had come to us to ask for help while we were in the cave, despite the fact that 3 of 5 people there were neither climbing nor belaying. No one said anything to us as we began our descent. No one seemed to be doing much to help the guy out. The guide was making his way up to the base of the ice in a manner that did nothing to suggest that there was an emergency underway, and we nearly had to resort to flares and semaphore to get anyone to talk to us. After yelling “HEY – is everything okay?” for the third time, one of the guided clients finally acknowledged our forty-decibel queries and a reply of “I don’t think so” came forth from his astonished and slightly haunted looking face. “What happened?” “Do we need to call 911?” No answer. At this moment I can recall feeling as though I was stuck in the middle of the ice-climbing equivalent of a David Lynch movie, as the situation contained the puzzling mixture of the macabre and the mundane – an upside down climber with what might be life threatening injuries above and silent people just sort of hanging out below. Hmmm. I would have been only slightly less confused if I had walked passed two guys in clown suits engrossed in a game of cribbage in the middle of a burning orphanage. Anyway – the whole thing was starting to feel a bit surreal as we sized up the situation, and during a quick chat we worked past the assumption that all parties were acting rationally and that everything was under control, and made the decision to get involved. As it turns out the guide knew what he was doing, but wasn’t involving anyone else in the situation. Maybe he decided that his clients were hopeless, and that it would be better not to involve anyone else as it would just slow him down. After approaching his somewhat shellshocked clients and getting confirmation that the unconscious guy on top-rope had taken an almighty winger from the top, we made the decision to call 911 and call things off if it turned out that the guy was in better shape than he looked to be in. He was now hanging upside down about 25 feet below his last screw, and had apparently fallen from near the top. From one of the client’s descriptions, it appears that he elected to run it out to the top and had been on the verge of clearing the bulge when both of his tools blew out of the rotten slush they were planted in. Bad luck or bad technique – who knows. He then fell away from the cliff in a long arc, with his arms windmilling alongside him before he slammed neck/headfirst onto an ice-shelf and took a long bounce downward before becoming stuck on the screw. The guide prusiked his way up to the unconsicous climber and began the process of extricating him from the screw-hanger that he was stuck on. We tried to keep his spinal-column as immobile as possible as his belayer lowered him to the ground. We left our foam sit-pad beneath his back, covered him with our down jackets, and instructed his hitherto-and-long-thereafter useless belayer/friend to keep an eye on his breathing and to keep him immobile if he came to. Again, we sort of hoped that the guide would have been directing care/traffic at this point, but had decided to take control until someone else stepped forwards. Shortly thereafter the first wave of the emergency armada had docked amidst the mansions on the street below, and Sean (the partner) and I volunteered to head down to let the rescue crews know what the condition of the climber was and to help them get up to the base of the ice if we needed to. It would have been a much better day for skiing/boarding than climbing, as at least 8” of snow had fallen since we had set out that morning, and the blowing snow had completely obscured the narrow trench of hardpack of leading through the powder that we had followed to the base of the gully earlier in the day. The relief I had felt upon seeing the fire-department arrive soon began to dissipate when rather than forging a path through the snow to meet us at the midpoint, the firefighters saw fit to goad us onwards with “encouragement” through a bull-horn as we tried out several variations on the crawl-stroke to make our way through the chest-deep snow. “Let’s Go! Let’s Go! Every second counts!” No shit – how about meeting us halfway? Once we made it out to the street our cheerleader with the bullhorn pulled me aside and asked me about the condition of the climber while Sean spoke with the younger fire-fighters about the conditions in the gully leading to the base of the climb. Soon enough we were recruited by one or two of the younger fire-fighters to help move the back-board/sled to the base of the climb. Fully loaded, this thing must have weighed a good 100 lbs, burdened as it was with all of the EMT gear, oxygen, and a big-ass defrib apparatus and other miscellaneous stuff. After about 15 feet of trying to plow the thing through the snow I suggested that we unload it and carry it above the snow rather than plowing through it, and have others carry the gear on it piece-by-piece, seeing as it was now loaded with a good 30-40lbs of the white stuff by this point. No dice, no debate, just a curt dismissal and another “Come-on!” as we churned through the morass. This carried on for another 50 yards or so, interrupted every so often as the head musher stopped to take off miscellaneous components of the full fire outfit he had begun the trudge with, including his fire helmet. I figured the guy wasn’t going to budge on this one so I gave up the idea of strategy and just plowed onwards with him. The guy had a lot of heart, but efficient we were not, and Sean and I abandoned our efforts to till the snow, grabbed the oxygen and defrib-apparatus, and headed back up to the base of the ice. The plan was to deposit the gear at the top of the climb, check on the climber, and lower a rope to the base to bring the sled up if it turned out that he needed it. We got back to the top of the climb and found that the climber had regained consciousness and was able to recall his name and where he was by this point (“By the looks of it, I’d say I was out ice climbing.") , but not a whole lot else. He wanted to move but given the nature of the fall he took we encouraged him to stay put until an EMT could check him out for spinal cord injuries, even though he claimed he could feel and wiggle all of his appendages. Good news. We rigged up a line to manuevered it down to the base of the climb an over the short (10-12 foot ice-step found there). We climbed back down to the base just in time to meet the firefighters, one of whom was hunched over in the snow from the effort required to drag all of that snow, and the sled, to the base of the climb. Unfortunately, they could advance no further, given that they were outfitted in rubber-boots and such, even with a rope. By this time, roughly 1 and one-half hours had passed since the climber fell. The folks at the top proceeded to haul up the sled and bring down a line for the EMT who showed up at the base about 15 minutes later. He had a hard time of it, outfitted as he was in slacks and cowboy boots, and made it to the top about 20 minutes later with some assistance. By this time it was pretty clear that the climber would be okay. I hadn’t noticed, but Vail Mountain Rescue had arrived on the scene in the meantime, and several members of that group were making their way to the base of the falls, fixing-lines on the way. 15 minutes later all of the elements of the rescue operation were in place, and the confusion began. It took at least two minutes worth of epic and somewhat hallucinatory cluster-action worthy of Apocalypse Now (e.g. “Whose in charge here?” Confused looks “Aren’t you?) Before everyone agreed who needed to be rescued and what the order of the rescue should be. Some members of the rescue party even set about deliberating about who was going to get the sled and the other equipment back down before pausing to consider if, and in what fashion, the injured climber was going to get down. After a mini-conference between ourselves, the EMT, and the climber himself, we agreed that Sean and I would assist him to the base on rappel. The fire fighters walked him out to the ambulance once we got the base, and we headed back up to collect our gear. The deliberations about the fate of the sled and the best method by which to lower it were still going on. We grabbed our gear, took all of the medical apparatus that we could, and descended to the base through a few of the VMR members who were still on their way up. What struck me about the whole affair was not that anyone involved in the rescue was incompetent or inept, but just the opposite. The firemen’s response time was incredible, and were we in a burning house, I have no doubt that the men who responded would have gotten everyone out alive. They were just a bit out of their element and following a rigid protocol in a new environment that wasn’t a good match for their training and equipment. The EMT was great, and he made a determined effort to got to the climber despite lacking any winter/climbing gear, and gave the climber excellent care once he arrived on the scene. And finally, the guys from Vail Mountain Rescue rallied their members incredibly fast for a volunteer organization, and had a dozen people on the scene within a couple of hours. Had it been necessary, I have no doubt that they would have successfully taken the climber to the base of the climb. What struck me, rather, was that despite the fact that this was essentially roadside ice right in the middle of Vail, with world-class medical facilities just minutes away and dedicated, professional rescue crews on the scene, this guy would have been as dead as a doornail if his injuries required medical care in less than an two hours. Even with pro’s on the scene confusion and discord prevailed as several different organizations tried to coordinate their efforts. If the fall had taken place in Rocky Mountain National Park or someplace even more remote, I’d be mighty surprised if he would have been rescued in less than a day. The moral? If you sustain a life threatening injury on ice/rock and you and/or your partners can’t rescue yourselves, in the words of Simon Yates, “That’s it. You’re fucked, Matey!” [ 01-10-2002: Message edited by: JayB ]

Not much to add to the comments above, except that: -Cherry Ice was in but melting fast. At it's narrowest point near the top of the first step, the ice was about 4' wide and about 6" deep. Above the low-angle ice went on for about 50 feet or so before petering out. Honeyman Falls was still forming. The whole left side of the falls was running when we checked it out, and much of the falls above the first step appear to be running also. The ice on the right side seems to be forming well but was quite slushy at the base. I was up there from the 2nd to the 4th and experienced the warm temps and wet conditions. Didn't climb nearly as much as I would like to have, but thankfully the ice isn't quite as scarce out here in CO. I have some good beta on lodging, though. The Mile-O rocks. We paid $48 per night for a two-bedroom kitchenette with one of those jacuzzi-tubs with the "Ice Climbers Discount." They have also started a conditions log for climbers staying there.

Really. Unimpressive. Reply.Pope. We're calling you out....Last chance to clear your name Max 2, RURP 0. [ 12-21-2001: Message edited by: JayB ]

[ 12-21-2001: Message edited by: JayB ]

Hey Lambone: That's right when my girlfriend and I were planning on heading out there - we were planning on making it a four day outing. I'm flying into Seattle this Sunday and will be spending the week with family out in Port Orchard, but the next week is open. I lead up to WI4 (on a good day) and have all of the gear. Send me a PM or give me a ring (719-532-0308 in CO and 360-674-3595 in WA)and maybe we can work out a plan!

Rafael: I'd love to trade you but the only Express screws that I have are 22's....

Just to confuse things a little I'll cast my vote for the Grivel 360 screw. Here's why: 1. Less prep before placing the screw. When placing a BD screw one has to clean a circle 4" in diameter in order to crank the screw in all the way to the hanger. The Grivel screw can be placed in grooves, depressions, corners, and what have you with minimal cleaning, sometimes none at all. The harder the climbing gets (for me) the more important rapid placement becomes. 2. The longer handle provides greater leverage. If I remember correctly the force which one can apply by means of a lever increases with the square of the length of the lever. In hard ice I've found that the leverage provided by the longer lever makes it much easier to crank the screw in. Especially helpful when the only good ice is not adjacent to your waist and you don't have much leverage to begin with. 3. They've always cleaned more easily. 4. The threads. The threads on a Grivel screw have a reverse orientation that directs the force into the ice rather than outwards to the surface. How much difference does this make in practice - not sure but I'll take any advantage I can get. 5. The knob on the Grivel screws doesn't rip up my gloves like the knob on the Express screws. 6. Racking - it's not pretty but it works. I use a BD Ice-Clipper and have never encountered any problems - I can get them off of my rack and into my hand just as easily as I can with an Express screw. Not a significant downside in comparison to all of the other advantages IMHO. That's why I like the screws - but I'd be interested in hearing other's opinions. Why don't you like 'em. Also - I'll be flying out to Seattle this Sunday, and will happily trade my BD express screws (22cm) for 22cm 360s if they are in comparable condition (the BD's are more or less in mint condition). Also, with regard to tying off long screws vs placing short screws, I've seen studies that indicate that when tied off screws are placed under a heavy load, the ice below the screw shatters and/or the screw begings to bend downwards, and then the tie-off slides down to the end of the screw, which drastically increases the force on the portion of the screw which remains in the ice by means of the lever-effect and thus increases the odds of the screw failing.No disrespect to TG - I'd just be curious to hear what you think of the above scenario and/or what you've observed in practice when placing tied off screws.

Will: How long did the it take for your Rambocomps to arrvive after you ordered them? The folks at sportextreme supposedly put my order in the mail last Friday, and from the tracking info it looks like they are still sitting on a loading dock somewhere in Europe. I'm hoping they'll arrive before I get on the plane for WA next Sunday.

Anyone out there have any experience with these? I think I may have lost my old gloves and am looking for some replacements for ice. These look like they strike a pretty good balance between warmth and dexterity, the two perpetually conflicting imperatives of all ice gloves. Any opinions? Thanks.

Dudes leading desert splitters on hexes...in painter paints and a rugby shirt...

CloudVeil Serendipity jacket. Best/most versatile piece of gear I've ever owned. Worked great as a light-wind breaker for summer peak bagging, and kept me warm and dry while getting poured on as I was dragging my ass up a still forming icefall last weekend. Ended up with 1/2" of verglass on my helmet, but the H2O never made it through my jacket. It also kicks ass on approaches, as I can throw it on over a light polypro top and never have to change layers or endure yet another sweatbox experience in a shell that supposedly breathes. Might not be the right coat for a downpour in the Olympics, but it kicks ass for everything else. [ 12-14-2001: Message edited by: JayB ]

http://www.patagonia.com/webapp/commerce/Pgonia/Product.jspmerchant_rn=7385&cgrfnbr=124391&sku=83680

How about the lamest troll? It's a long day at work, baby....

"And even if they're not true, you can't say Americans don't get shit-on generalizations too. I say it's a rough world, buck up! If you can't handle some lip from somebody, you're probably not cut out to be a world traveler/climber. The idea of being able to climb el cap and not being able to handle being labeled/generalized/sterotyped is silly!" Word.

I’d have to vote for my BD Switchblade crampons. Take forever to adjust, rust in seconds, the super-wack snow dealy between the front point doesn’t seem good for anything except impeding penetration of the front points, and the secondary points are set so far back from the frontpoints that you have to drop your heel about 45 degrees below parallel to get them to engage, and they’re heavy as hell. After my last outing I decided enough was enough and ordered some Rambocomp mono’s from sportextreme.The only downside that I can forsee here is that it will be that much tougher to blame flailing on my crampons. Just wondering what they worst piece of gear that you own is - and what you'd like to replace it with...

"From the input I am receiveing looks like a spring RETROFIX party at the Coulee is on. More details to follow." I'll be there (I should have made the move back to WA then). Keep me/everyone posted and let me know if you want any help getting this going.

Carolyn: You might find some of the information about sizing/modifying plastic boots on the page I've listed below useful. If you fax them an outline of your feet they'll assist you with the choice. I just got a pair of Asolo AFS 8000 boots and love 'em. I've got long narrow feet and the fit was great right out of the box. Good luck! www.alaskamountaineering.com/Boots/Boots.htm

…For what it’s worth to anyone in the PNW. Headed out to Vail early Sunday morning and despite getting an early start witnessed legions of climbers ascending the gullies to the base of the climbs that we had intended to climb that day, with the exception of Spiral Staircase (WI 3-4) and The Pencil (WI 3-4). The folks that developed Vail seem to have a profound aversion to public parking, but after finding a place to leave the rig on the opposite side of the highway we headed up into the ampitheater that contains The Rigid Designator, The Fang, Octopussy, Fatman and Robin, Reptile, The Thang, and a host of other routes that I will never attempt to climb so long as I live. Anyhow, the designator was in, albeit extremely drippy and chandeliered, having apparently just touched down a few days earlier. The Fang looked like its moniker at this point, being a hollow 80 foot icicle about 18 inches wide at the base, with a regular shower pouring onto the cone at the base from within the formation. It looked as though a strong wind would knock it down at this point, but should touch down in a few days if the cold temps persist. One of the bad-ass mofo’s out there working a new mixed line behind the fang that will supposedly go at at least M10 had just finished warming up on The Designator, having placed a total of three screws on the ascent. I’ve met the guy before, and despite being a bad-ass mofo, he’s always been cool, generous, and enouraging. He offered my partner and I a chance to do a lap on his top rope, but we thanked him and declined, as we came here to lead as many of the routes as our humble abilities allowed. We marched around the corner to find a 10 man cluster-fest at the base of the Spiral Staircase, and returned to the designator to see if the top-roping offer was still valid. It was and I came away both impressed and humbled by what the aforementioned mofo had done. The ice at the base had formed into a giant, unprotectable pine-cone type-deal that you could hook and step your way up with abandon, but forget about getting pro. The shaft itself was convoluted, chandeliered, and dripping but for the most part the ice was sticky if you chose your targets carefully. Fun on TR but a gut-wrenching nightmare on lead – at least it would be for me anyway. After finishing up we got word that the cluster-fest had dissipated and hit the Staircase around the corner. The ice was a bit thin and hacked out for my taste, but it was a nice lead to finish the day out. After swapping leads we packed up and had a 500 foot luge ride down a packed-out glissade path that twisted through the Aspen groves. Best descent ever, courtesy of the 10-man cluster. Guess they were good for something! Anyway, the title of this thread said TR/Conditions, so here are the conditions, gratuitous as they may be for some of you. Firehouse – InPitkin Falls – InSpiral Staircase – InThe Pencil – InRigid Designator – InThe Fang – Just about touched down. Should be in in a week or two of you’re up for it.Pumphouse Falls – In. Looked like most of the 10 Mile canyon stuff was in, and the slopes above the routes we could see were snow covered but not loaded enough to present an extreme avalanche danger. Size it up and have at it if you feel like gambling and or the 10-man cluster is making a guest appearance at the base of your favorite climb.

Well, for what it’s worth, I think just about everyone who posts here would agree with philosophies espoused by Pope in his last post, in general. Few would argue with the notion that it is important to preserve the rock, and with it the integrity of the routes established upon it. Fewer still would dispute the notion that self-reliance, judgement, and adequate preparation are essential before attempting any route, especially those involving a significant degree of risk or commitment. Where Pope and I part company, it seems, is with the notion that placing or clipping bolts on sections of rock that are unprotectable otherwise automatically renders one an implaccable enemy of the values he champions, and a climber of a lower caliber. That’s a philosophical divide that we may never cross, and if not, that’s fine with me. It should be possible for “the community” to accommodate multiple perpsectives on these matters, so long as no one attempts to rigidly impose their outlook on the everyone else, be it through route destruction or recrimination and slander. What struck me when I read Preuss’s comments, and the reason why I posted them, is the light it sheds on the ethical disputes that agitate the climbers of today. I suspect he’d look at the ethical vanguards out there today who consider themselves the champions of severe, uncompromising ethics as little more than guardians of a corpse that perished long ago when the ethics of his generation faded away, supplanted as they were by a generation shameless enough to incorporate…ropes (!) into their ascents. This aspect of his outlook and the ethical disputes that no doubt raged around it seem rather quaint in hindsight, as do the disputes over 12 point crampons versus step cutting, passive-pro versus cams, sticky-rubber versus standard rubber, and many others that have faded into memory. I for one hope that the dispute about placing bolts on sections of rock that are otherwise unprotectable and at anchors will join its rightful place in this mausoleum of long expired conflicts so that we can focus on more important things like preserving the crags and peaks themselves, rather than engaging in hermetic disuputes about how we choose to climb them. [ 12-08-2001: Message edited by: JayB ] [ 12-08-2001: Message edited by: JayB ] [ 12-08-2001: Message edited by: JayB ]

This from John Middendorf's Piece in the latest edition of Ascent: "The Era of mechanically assisted rock climbs in the Eastern Alps was not without competition. Incredibly bold vertical routes were climbed without any mechanical protection at all - what we would call 'free-solo' today. Georg Winkler, a pioneer in such climbing, made a number or impressive climbs, including the first ascent in 1887 of the eastern Vajolet Tower, a year before his death at the age of 18 during a solo attempt of the Weisshorn. Many climbers in later years were to emulate Winkler and reject the use of ropes and aid, even though he himself used a grappling hook on occaision. Footwear evolved from heavy spiked boots to ligher felt-soled shoes developed by the Simond Firm, opening a new era of free climbing with leaders who morally opposed reliance on gear. Paul Preuss, a vocal and influential Austrian, vigorously denounced the use of pitons and rope manuevers as a lower standard. He wrote six climbing rules: 'First, one shoud not only be equal to any climb that one undertakes, but be more than equal to it. Second, the standard of difficultly which a climber can conquer with safety when descending, and for which he can consider himself competent with an easy conscience, should represent the limit of what he should attempt on his ascent. Third, hence the use of artificial aids only becomes justifiable in the case of sudden threatening danger. Fourth, the piton is an emergency aid and not the basis of a system of mountaineering. Fifth, the rope may be used to facillitate the matters, but never as the sole means to make a climb possible. Finally, the principle of safety is one of the highest principles. Not the spasmodic correction of one's own want of safety, obtained by the use of artificial aids, but that true safety which should result, with every climber, from a just estimate of what he is able to, and what he desires to do." The word from the original old school. Sounds to me like Preuss is calling you a candy-ass if you need to rely on a rope and/or pitons in any fashion whatsoever during your ascent. Moreover, sounds like the anti-bolting camp will have two eschew the use of both if they wish to live up to the ethics established by Preuss. This guy set the bar higher and paid the ultimate price for it. "Preuss died at age 27 while attempting to solo the north face of the Manndlkogen. It was an era when not many of the top climbers made it to thirty. Perhaps the new safety methods had some merit after all." [ 12-08-2001: Message edited by: JayB ]