Bug

"Dusted" is an interesting word to use for 3 feet of snow. Thanks for the report,Dustee.

While your stories are amusing, they are not instructive. Thank you for participating.

Get real. The issue is about "wilderness" that we all go to. Start a different thread. It would be a fun one.

OK Matt, would I rat on a power-bolter in the wilderness? Yes. I'd do everything I legally could to disuade him through other means first though. And I would consider him a short sighted selfish asshole (none of us is immune to that title). Why is the power bolting ethics a viable thread subject when trampling grass and yelling into the night are not? Because wilderness bolting ethics have everything to to with bolting being ratted on. For instance,I would not rat on a person for bolting in the wilderness if he had actually only trampled the grass or violated the permit regulations. It is a question of the spirit of the law, not the letter. Anything permanent is technically illegal, even a bridge built by the FS. Using hand tools is slower and conveys a tradition of repect. The FS bridges were justified as a means to allow dispersed access and thereby reduce impacts to the most accessable areas. Bolting by hand is similar in that it allows the climbers to disperse (cracks or no cracks) but does not promote permanent, rapid developement of a limited resource. It seems like a reasonable compromise that allows current use and ensures reasonable conservation measures.

Bolts are permanent. Yells, screams, camping trampling of grass, etc are a totally different subject. THEY ARE NOT PERMANENT MARKS ON THE ENVIRONMENT. I concur with Caveman. Clear thread drift. Stick to the point. We are talking about a permanent change to a wilderness using motorized or mechanized tools. Let me give you an example of how the FS looks at the issue (from within recreation where the people tend to be pro-wilderness). When I was in the FS we built a bridge inside the wilderness. A bridge in my view violates the wilderness act too but that is thread drift. The point I am making is that we used hand tools and horses. No power tools or generators or gas powered anything. Putting up a line inside the wilderness and placing bolts on lead using hand tools only is the style I support. It allows this generation acces to some of the routes while, by sheer time constraints, leaves some for future generations who may be able to do it cleaner. Who would have predicted Stealth C-4, or TCU's, or epoxy, or dynamic ropes climbing in Chamonoix in the 1800's? Power drills allow too much too fast. Wilderness advocates I have worked with have always stated that wilderness BELONGS to future generations. Not just us. Or go tell John Muir he wouldn't be welcome on CC.COM.

Yeah, George W Bush should finally have to serve in a meaningful way.

People seem to have an aversion to reality today. Let's all eat acid and pretend Timothy Leary is president.

After I had been out of Missoula for a few years, I went back for a visit and to see how the skiing was. I contacted Jack Tuholske and Rick Torre. They were good friends and Rick introduced me to Jack back when I was working on the Badger Two Medicine Project. We met down in Hamilton at Rickie’s house and pulled out a map. I casually made the comment that I would prefer to ski a ridge that I had not already skied. Rick and Jack quickly agreed that that would be fun and decided that they did not want to ski a ridge that they had already skied either. After about 45 minutes of haggling and story telling about what each ridge was like to ski, we finally figured out that there was only one ridge in the entire east side of the Bitterroots that none of us had ever skied. The access was easy to figure out. The road went up to the base of the ridge and ended abruptly on private land. Motorized traffic was prohibited but foot traffic was OK. It was a good spot since we could ski either side of the ridge and come out to the car. It was the usual Bitterroot trudge up through ponderosa and doug fir to about 6000’ where the lodgepole started. The snow was building rapidly as we moved upward. It was a good year. One of the last I remember in the Bitterroot, at least that I made it into. As we approached 7000’ the timber was thick and brushy. We could not remove our skiis because the snow was too deep and we could not get through the trees easily because they were to close together. It was a tough 1000 feet to 8000 where we topped out on a nice rock outcrop looking up Big Creek and Bear Creek and up and down the Bitterroot range. The clouds were hovering around 10,000 and we were getting snow flurries once in awhile. The temp was about 15 degrees with a 20 mph wind gusting to 30 at times. In short, the powder was prime, deep, fluffy, goose down, bliss. But the ridge was impassable for 1000 feet. There was no way we were going to waste the best part. We looked down Big creek and quickly identified a dreadful drop into ragtag cliffs and uncertain terrain. Down the other way, into Bear creek, was just plain, uncertain terrain. Easy choice. We cut through the dog hair piss fir for about fourty yards. I was in the lead and frankly, I was a little perturbed with the way the dog hair was blocking my every move. I finally broke out at the very top of an open slope of about 45 degrees that went down about 600 feet. Ya babeeee. We dug a pit and came up with four foot dogwoods under a three foot fluff. We’re talking heaven here. Since I was company, I got the first line. The rhythm was quick and the bounce was soft. It was over all too quick. I traversed into the trees and watched as Jack came down the line twenty feet to my right. Then Rickie twenty feet to the left. We were breathing hard, sending clouds of steam into quickly clearing skies. But we were on the north slope. It actually got colder as we descended. At the bottom of each run, we found a traverse to another run. All of them were 500 feet or more. All of them, bottomless powder. We traded first descents all the way down until we broke into a wide open valley that turned sharply right into the main canyon and mellowed out to lower intermediate skiing. We just cruised for a long ways. Side by side, carving long cruising GS turns down into Bear creek on a bright blue day. Across the valley was a buttress none of us had noticed before. It looked like about four pitches and was getting full-on sun. Two wide streaks were bare and dry except for a little dripping from minor ledges here and there. We skied to the base of it and found the trail out. In about 30 minutes, we were at the car and heading back into Hamilton. I stayed down in Hamilton at Rickie’s house so we could put together a rack and gear. The next morning dawned clear and cold. It was about 10 degrees. We parked at the Bear creek trailhead and skied up our tracks to the beginning of our wall. There we dropped our skiis and postholed about 400 yards up to the base of our line. I lead the first pitch. It went up through some ledges and zig-zagged around a couple chossy looking overhangs to a nice two person ledge. Rickie came up and continued up a blankish face for about 100 feet getting wires and tri-cams in pockets. I went up from there under a dripping overhang about thirty feet right and then straight up just right of a major drip coming off the top of the wall. Rickie lead up through broken face for a solid 130 feet and topped out at a lone ponderosa that had a pine needle bed at the base all warmed up in the sun and a sixteen inch bole for an anchor. The temp was about 55 degrees in the direct sun. The climbing was consistent 5.6 with 5.7 here and there. Since it was about twenty degrees when we started, it was the perfect grade. We called it ‘Golden Showers’ due to the dripping. We Sent up a cloud from the base of the Ponderosa and soaked up the last rays of December sun before it dropped behind the Bitterroot divide. It doesn’t get any better than that.

I would not rat on a power bolter in the wilderness unless I ran out of ammo. Unlikely. It took generations of work to get those areas into wilderness designation. We have a responsibility to pass on to our chilren what was passed on to us. Using bolts juditiously gives us more route opportunities than we can finish in a lifetime. Power bolting can be done ETHICALLY outside of wilderness. Stay out there. Future generations may have the technology to climb routes we can't climb using clean techniques. Give them the chance to have the same opportunities we have. Or be an asshole.

I am still really upset. I'm just going to sign off for awhile. Flame away. I'll read it all in a few days.

Yeah. My girls scream and hide when you come over. "Is he gone daddy?" I know I'm harsh. I'm a dick more than most. But sometimes somebody has to say something and it's the dick who says it first. I'm not a star parent. It's just that I got hit in the face by flying objects twice on the trip. Meredith once. It was going unchecked by all but me. Someone finally got hurt and it was pure dumb luck that it wasn't life threatening.

Thanks Rumr. $20. Same for anyone else who said they'd come and didn't. I was asked to pull the pic of Meredith. I actually went into edit and pulled it, or so I thought. I figured I was too mad to make a clear decision so I went with the advice of a friend. Then I stewed on it all night. I wished I had not pulled it. This morning, the picture is still there. I'm glad. It is what it is. Sorry if it makes someone else feel less than good. People need to know what happens when kids run out of control. I'm NOT trying to single out the kid who did it or the parents of the kid who did it. EVERYONE feels bad-ESPECIALLY Meredith. My daughter came within 1/2 inch of loosing her eye. The act was not intentional but the stick was thrown. Natural consequences are appropriate. If you think it sucks feeling bad that your kid or your friend's kid or SOMEONE OTHER THAN MEREDITH feels bad. With all due respect, tough shit. Try being Meredith. Again, you know who you are BUT this is about parenting in general not a personal attack. There is always a kid or two who run wild in a pack. In past years it was my daughter Olivia. I thought my wife was over-reacting when she told me other parents will not let their kids play with her. Meredith did not want to come this year because another kid "tried to stab her with a knife" last year. She was scared and remembered it a year later. The kid was playing but she didn't know that. Next year, I will not make her come. For the record, Olivia was punished with natural consequences whenever she screwed up. If she got into someone elses pack and ate their food without permission, she was treated as a stealer and openly punished with a time out and no treats when everyone else got them. She finally got it and mellowed out a bit. People actually come to our house more than once now. She has friends. It doesn't take much of a punishment. Time outs or loosing treats or privleges is a big deal to a kid. It just takes consistency. They need to know there are limits and where those limits are and THAT THOSE LIMITS WILL BE ENFORCED EVERY TIME. There is an article in TIME magazine about how to tell your kids 'NO'. TIME usually sucks but just the fact that it is such a big social issue that TIME put it on the cover says something. Reign in your kids. It's not OK for them to adversly affect other kids. They all do it yes. THAT'S WHY THEY NEED PARENTS WHO ARE WILLING TO SAY NO.

Just got back from the Kid's Ropeup. We got a little rain but the mountains around us were white on top. Very early winter?

That just ain’t right. It’s like a nickel made a wood. The Kid’s rope up was sunny and warm. Too bad Meredith got poked in the eye with a sharp stick and only four families showed up and I had to run to the Emergency room before I collected from everybody. But hey, I hope all of you who said you’d come AND DIDN'T don’t expect to be taken seriously in the future. YOU ARE FLAKES! I have your names. Pay up or don’t post without expect flaming replies about how flaky you are. Can you tell I just had three glasses of red wine after driving for two hours after watching my 6 year old getting 2 stitches in her face less than ½ inch from her eye? Notice the bruising? If that flying stick (that was thrown by one brother at another brother) would have been just a little higher, we’d be lookin at a one-eyed girl. THAT SUCKS! So do people who say they’re going climbing with you and bail because it’s raining in Seattle. I’d still rather be climbing with the family with the kid that threw the stick. At least that kid will probably loose his bicycle privileges until Mer’s stitches are out. The rest of you are typical CC.COMers. All post, no climbing. Whew! I feel better now. Billygoat, Snowbyrd, Fatswaller, and I were the only families camping out. Another couple families came and climbed too. Thank you all for showing up. We had a great time and even Meredith was talking excitedly about it when we got home. The weather cooperated quite well with a little rain here and there. We climbed at playground point Sat and Clamshell Cave Sun. Everybody climbed well and some climbed twice as well. Some drank a bit and others drank a lot. We heard Fatswaller tell it like it is and Snowbyrd tell it like it should be. Billygoat and family made it from Martha’s vineyard in the sound. I brought two extras just cuz I am not stressed out enough lately. We ate one pig, two fish, half a cow and lots of barley and malt. Thanks to Snowbyrd for bringing the great beer. Micah is a great kid. Good work! Good times had with the rest of you as well! And don’t worry about Meredith. She’s tough. Just be aware that next year, she’ll be packin a pellet gun.

Hefferweissennnn, dark something, or whatever's cheapest. But I don't drink much anymore.

I forgot my sleeping bag on one trip with my father. I think that's when he figured out I was "experimenting with marijauana". Neither one of us brought up the concept of spooning. I just built two fires on either side of me and slept fine. We summited Main Trappuer the next day. On a boyscout trip in the Mission mnts, we got drenched by a major storm. It rained for three days hard. Some of us younger kids were starting to get really cold and then it got really cold that night. The next morning, Ed Smith chopped up a big dead stump into four huge pieces and got them burning. The flames were leaping fifteen feet in the air.Probably saved a few lives. Fire is my friend. I always carry a lighter and matches. Even if I don't have anything to smoke. Which is most of the time because nobody trusts me now that I'm over forty.

I have the group site at Chatter Creek for $150 wether I show up or not. That's where I'll be. If you want to suck some people over to Vantage,you have the right. Have a good time. Leavenworth could suck but most likely it will be fine with scattered sowers. There are a million things to do with kids in the woods.

One year long ago, when I was in 7th grade, two friends and I went snowshoeing in the Rattlesnake wilderness in May. The snow pack was hard and deep all the way up to the summit of Stewart Peak (8900). The other two guys had never been backpacking before. Eric had a jar of peanut butter and a jar of jelly. He wore levis and had cotton thermal long underwear. Kevin was better off with his wool pants but still had cotton thermals. I wore army surplus fatigues but had on a thick wool union suit. Our boots were OK and we had wool socks and bread bags tho I was the only one who used them the first day. None of us had gators or gloves. Our raincoats were rubberized canvas. We all had a flannel shirt, an oversized knife, and a tin of Copenhagen. Our first day was beautiful weather and we made it to the summit by 1 or 2. On the way down, we stopped and built a fire to cook lunch (a large can of beef stew). Eric ate two peanut butter sandwiches. By the time we were heading out again, it was about 5PM. We could see the frozen lake below and wanted to get to the “snowshoe inn”, a log cabin built a few decades earlier. The first drop was steep but not that steep. The second one was really steep and we laughed as Eric tumbled down it spilling jars and loaves everywhere. We continued down this way until we got to a large drop. We couldn’t tell exactly how large because the snow overhung the edge and we didn’t want to get too close. We wandered back and forth looking for a way down until dark. So we collected firewood and set up the el cheepo tent and built a fire. Eric was shivering uncontrollably and ate another peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Kevin and I were OK and had hot dogs and fire baked potatoes with salt. After awhile, Eric crawled in. Kevin and I went in after a couple hours of spitting into the fire to find Eric totally incoherent but seemingly not asleep. We really didn’t know what was going on and crawled in on either side of him and went to sleep. The wind blew fairly hard but we slept well. Everyone woke up refreshed and ready to eat. Even Eric was normal and happy, and remembered nothing of the night before. We had bacon and eggs for breakfast. Eric had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. We finally jumped off the cliff at a spot that seemed OK. It was. After picking up Eric’s stuff, we made our way to the cabin. It was bare and empty. The trees for a quarter mile radius had been stripped bare of branches up to about fifteen feet. We kept moving. At this point, we had about 22 miles to hike out. Eric had another peanut butter and jelly sandwich. When we got to the gorge about twelve miles down, we stopped for lunch. Eric had a peanut butter sandwich, which of course was the last one. That was supposed to be our lunch. Eric figured that since he carried it, he could eat it any time he wanted. Kevin and I shared a packet of soup and threw rocks at a squirrel but he escaped. The ten mile walk out was long and we were hungry. I had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich eating frenzy when I got home.

Alpine IS my favorite style. It often is not pain-causing or brutal. But I am always ready for things to get brutal should the weather change, or I get off route, or lost in a dense forest. If it weren't fun most of the time, I might not do it. But if it was not possible that conditions or situations could deteriorate, it wouldn't be as much fun. I think a lot of what comes across as chest-beating is just friendly banter amoungst people who have a good idea of who the other people are. For the record, no one should be impressed with my climbing abilities. I am an average guy with enough money to buy high tech gear. Without it, my fat old body wouldn't be going half of where it goes now.

Are you sure that isn't an alien next to you? It looks like there is another one inspecting your crotch. My first bivy wasn't like that.

Don't bail now. The kids will still have a blast. Just bring a couple extra pairs of clothes.

I'm not a geologist but I have gone up there and rappeled off the arch. The inner rock is crumbly and loose. Just a bad pocket of poorly crystalyzed gniess.

How about just get him stoned. The internet does strange things to people but in this case it's just the way he is. No excuses. You'll know where you stand.