ivan

7/14 - die XXIV - opening n' bastille day bitches, there's new baguette-muff on the field - rumors were of a rock wicked-hot, yet arrived mid-afternoon to cool temps n' pleasant breezes - shot up young warriors w/ geoff n' saw no sign of that kurious kev-bone feller, yet i was sure he'd have been up n' at it long afore we arrived - jim n' kenny did the corner about the same time and was glorious to see ole'jim giddup the route w/o a hitch despite his big what-have-you of a few months back - beers n' bullshiting at the ledge, not a fucking cigarette between the whole dirty lot of us - i felt so healthy and like a herpes-ridden cock-handler at the same time

mt prusik and dragontail both have easy routes that oughta thrill a newbie and not get them in over their head

wd40 seems to work just fine for me...

i made sure to do at least one bouldering problem to qualify for the high standards 'round here

Trip: Hood-wand-san - Timberline Circum-ambulation Date: 7/9/2014 Trip Report: ah the vicissitudes of these vernal hours smug and smitten w/ hazy powers - lazy days dedicated to alternating cycles of drunken debauchery and ceaseless toil in teeming wedder - the world electric ebbs and goes... my kkkalifornia trip krashed and burned a bit too early - a week of sans-family time remained but no partner, no passion, no plan - so what to do that's close aboard and won't leave me broiling in bastard heat? beacon closed, index too far off, fuck smith, etc. eons ago i attempted the most dipshit of circum-ambulations of the hood-wand w/ my 7-month pregnant wife - it was a fool's fashion and for my sins i was justly punished after only a few miles and a single cranky camp - why not give it a go solo this time though and set a far less tepid pace, wind the whole fucker up in 2 days and a single minimalist night out? got good n' drunk for a whole day afore to carbo-load and set aside the road-woes of the past few days, watching curious-bad tv, eating fresh-eggs by the mouthful, them being the only provisions on hand in my odd, echoing, empty home - a new-age nazi-blitzkrieg in brazil-land - ken burns baseball - iced burgundy and burning embers by the fan - chores gone unnoticed - so this must be like life at the rim-posts of the realm, shackled to a rocket on far-off pluto? tuesday evening i moseyed on over to mike's for a few drinks and some laughs, contemplating trips so far completed and reckoning on the ruins to come - many machines moving over this troubled earth and what man can say where any of them will wash-up in the Great By And By? the sun tipped over as a tippled drunk at end of day and i settled into the red devil for a short flight to timberline lodge - dined on 1 dollar chicken sandwiches in the parking lot and let the cool breeze bear me away to a better place at 5 a.m. i emerged from my memory-womb and began to make my way around the mighty mountain - walking clockwise seemed right, like walking downhill into a setting sun jefferson at first light a wondrous trail, and me in fit state-of-mind in the very early a.m., marinating in my own juices as i jimble-jambled on down the way - a gentle decline the whole way to ramona falls it seemed tvash would take me to task no doubt for this dim-witted taking rugged country, like the affectations of women - now cute now terrible - not a hundred yards of the whole fucking thing flat it seems, constant up or down and any glimpse into the future path a portrait of the magnificent mind-sets of long-dead engineers V1 bouldering - wide but steep w/ a candy-shell shellacking of moist moss before noon it still was and me at ramona falls all alone - the long downhill of what seemed a dozen miles already rattled off - somewhere along the way my inboard ankle decided to damn me, and for no discernible reason took to aching w/ a fury - i smoked a damp butt while bathing it in the cold stream, but it didn't do a damn thing but throb and hate-fuck me for the duration of the trip as every bit of connective tissue went hay-wire in sympathy - when the trek was done i spent a full day on the bofa, resorting to crawling when i had to break one off in the bana it was a long, long winding way up from there, but a grand way for certain through old-growth - all ya gotta do is shuffle, shuffle, shuffle under the canopy for a long spell, but well-timed as the heat of the day passed w/ me in limpid breezes and dappled light as i crawled uphill - eventually i stopped for a late lunch, foot-bath and much needed safety-break - soon thereafter i broke into the alluvial fuck-destruction of the sandy's twin braids from there another long pull up a forested low-angle climbing path led to bald mountain and the best views of the trip illumination in the afternoon yocum appears in prime conditions currently the last 3 miles to cairn-basin busted my ass and wasted my morale - i was dead-set on getting half-way round the big hood-bitch by evening though, and was happy to have done that at least, even if my moxie didn't wax so fair for the day to come - i searched for a camp in dejected airs for awhile, bumming through boulder-fields, until finally finding a nice little patch on the edge of a frozen, snow-fucked meadow my simple home for a shiverish evening - a little toke and some lovely tunes and i drifted away and knew Such Lovely Things, only to awaken eventually damned cold, the melt-water pool hard upon me iced-over it was a rough morning - rude cold - i dined on salami and candy without emerged from my mummy-cocoon - eventually i bloomed in hate-fuck chrysalis and faced the day the day didn't go well - just a few hundred yards up the trail, which had had the occasional snow-patch here and there the previous 20 miles, became completely snow-fuck-covered for leagues and leagues - random foot-tracks wandered hither and thither and i spent hours trying to divine a way, but ultimately i gave it up as useless - i wasn't interested in an orienteering adventure and my schedule and supplies didn't allow for several days of sussing out the way over snowy terrain, so there wasn't much for it but to start the slow reverse-circumnav back to the car, trying like mad to conserve the 6 cigarettes i had, in my infinite wisdom, allotted myself to complete the back-end of the journey the end of my line the walk back an exercise in patience - came upon several other parties that similarly had been forced to return from cairn basin - abandoned the timberline for a stretch on the pct to take me to ramona falls by a different route - probably no shorter, and required extra uphill in the end, but a lovely setting for sure, and novelty in hiking, as in sex, is its own reward very cool pct-river crossing all rigged up for them too-attached to their shitty little-lives - keeeee-rist, if you're hiking 2000 miles you clearly have shit to do in this world, no? you might as well die and solve the bugs a lot of troubles... the day settled into rote routine - hike an hour n' a half until the hate seethed from knees to heels, then settle by cool waters for a precious smoke and a mouthful of whatever - music - tom waits and bob dylan doing the play-by-play in my drug-addled mind - afternoon gave into late-evening and that bastard hill just kept going n' going - i paused by a playful stream for my final butt in the presence of a swiss mountain family on a romp up to paradise park and took snuff of the situation - one final frantic burn and sure enough i was back in the land of the big skiers super moon on saturn you sick fucks! all good things, like all bad dreams, must end, and so the red devil roared off towards the setting sun leaving my summer one day shorter

so happy not to ever have to do that there crucible again lucky bastard to have snow on the route - not an ounce to drink on our saharan traverse in days of yore... wtf - leo's up there?

a coward dies a thousand times, a hero but once

a few days earlier i assure you - didn't interrupt garbage-service in curry village though

silly goose, when it's eternal winter in the northwest, you're supposed to climb in california!

jeebus, looks positively venutian for opening day

viva la france

viva la france!

i've found over the years the best way not to get your shit fucked w/ at index is to use only really, really old n' beat up gear and drive a really shitty car w/ nothign but cigarette butts n' crushed pbr cans in it

some day...

she looks like she could suck the chrome off a trailer-hitch

when i drink whiskey The Bad Man comes out ::

congrats

looks like you boys did that mighty-fine

perhaps them sheep ain't as shaggable as they once were and require much more diligent searching after?

given all the snow show in that sahale tr seems hard to imagine it wouldn't be around n' menacing currently surprised ole'drewl ain't piped up on this already though...

he didn't ever serve in the navy, but i'm sure he'd have signed up to serve her navel

it musta been a few years since i got a game on tv, but lying around in a wounded state this day i've caught 2, and jesus, why is it that every single commercial break has ads for boner-pills? this happening to football and basketball is it? good to know i should be concerned if i ever have a hard-on that lasts 4 hours though

i got drunk w/a mexican dude in the valley had a selfie w/ him n' peter vella, maker of my sacred kal-i-fornian vintage, does that qualify me as cultured? i'll start drinking top shelf shit when they get the price closer to 3$/liter

never woulda figured you for a wine snob?

looks kewl to me