ivan

10/28 - day 33 homecoming friday come n' gone n' sad camas unseated 14-13 in the final moments - we learn more in loss than in victory though, or so we are told, but those that beclaim it are nought but a cult of vicious bastards and you know it a nice night w/ the boy-child - pizza n' tv n' he had the better sense to cart his ass upstairs before passing out, me spending the night on the couch even after the wife wandered back at whatever wicked hour been 2 years since i'd done warriors complete, geoff neither, n' lord but the pair of us were sad fools fumble-fuckign our way up it in the shade and breeze - krist-on-a-kracker, our hari-kari hour is coming round fast...

10/27 - day 32, lap 22 homecoming friday, hormones in full flood, the world tips sidewise n' i siddle eastwards as the wind grows in gasps and shrieks and what's left of life gets easy all alone on the gusty stone, i take my time n' tipple a while on ledges here and there, until tumult once more comes upon me, n' i slouch back west to vantucky to be born

10/26 - day 31, lap 21 a balmy, easy indian summer day, coupled with ballistic wicked winds from the east - beacon with the parking lot in half-light, leaves lashing against the windshield, a turd released and off we wander a team of 3 on tree ledge n' some rare auold rambling - i pause atop warriors for a beverage n' to yell at the gale - dave appears n' suddenly it's a party...

yosemite rules: enter the park before 6 a.m., leave after 10 p.m.

whaaaa....? thought we had a plan firfuksakes! dammit. let's still do something this weekend, eh? for your sins, you get to lead the 1st pitch next time

10/24 - day XXX - lap XX a shit day, this st cripin's eve - 30 seconds before going on-stage at 7:40 a.m., word comes of the death of a best friend - what is it i always say? "wise sir, do not grieve - it is always better to avenge dear ones than to indulge in mourning?" but how to avenge a suicide a coast away? how to make up for the time that passed as distance sucked off the surface of a deep friendship? i've never bawled before the kids before, but my class nearly saw it happen for the first time anyway - a few gulps and composure comes back - best to shove that shit in a mental closest n' come back to it before the sun sets- somehow i get through the day, then head east through the gaudy, gusty gorge, swallowing sadness back into my gullet as i go beacon - wicked windy, but a metaphorical shelter from the storm i wish - nastia, joe n' steve nattering around on bladerunner - my small-talk powers shit up the corner in my jacket, somewhat fearful of suspicious curses on this auspicious day, sweating n' freezing in turn time for ruminations along the way - what to think on the dead, and does it matter? the memories i carry, should any care: - acid and moonlight and the beach, us simple as babes, the world not to worry us a wit, we were on the cusp of Total Consciousness afterall - new years 2000 - my boy, all of 130 lbs soaking wet n' standing in boots, squaring off against a 400 lb black bouncer in a boisterous bar as the ball comes down - when i try to intervene, my guy says "stand by or i'll belt you in the gob" n' the utter silliness of it all dissolves me into gales of laughter and somehow it all gets better - my wife - i'dve never met her or convinced her i'm not the creep i appear to be w/o him - his identical twin, dead by the same cause when we were kids practically - the surreality of it all, us powerless as sissies- the sick desperation, then as now, that hellish realization that those we love most we're least powerful to help - pink floyd - never had heard them before him - many a feverish discussion in altered states, so often just on the cusp of dawn - "wish you were here" once blew my brains out in a mall parking lot, the tiny sound turned tremendous through his car speakers, the horror in hindsight over the aptness of that simple message, all these years later... - in the end, just a warm, gentle impression, all these decades gone away - the goodest of friends, capable of fulfilling any demand, beyond the simplest: dude, can you please stop being so fucking broken?

This is as good as advice as any. I ended up doing some ski touring Friday instead (and skiis on from the parking lot at that...in October!) and got a good taste of what disorientation can really look like when conditions are white out... another bit of experience to add to the arsenal good to hear - if you haven't got an altimeter yet, it's worth it - hood for whatever reason is pretty simple to deal with in whiteout on the south and north sides if you can fix your altitude (don't even need the full gps-deal)

but everybody loves this guy

i would say we avenge dear ones who died climbing by climbing ourselves - ya know, not letting the bastard world have it's way on us, scaring us into becoming chicken-shits? fwiw, that excerpt comes from the scene in beowulf where grendel's mother has just killed hrothgar's best friend to avenge her own son's murder at beowulf's hands - beowulf's trying to cheer up a distraught king by encouraging him to focus on something he can actually do empathy? i think i read about that somewhere once - a human thing, no?

wise sir, do not grieve it is always better to avenge dear ones than indulge in mourning

10/16 - day 29, lap 19 the goal to get at least a 20-spot of corner crawls this season seems w/n reach, the annual total declining much as a home-run slugger fades into obscurity though... the tune "ain't no god in mexico" humming in my head, full of toxins n' temptations, i tumbled down to the tracks n' tussled w/ the fact ole willie n' waylon might have know damn-well what they were talking of - jim was there to set me straight if the highwaymen hadn't already and soon enough i was clear n' casting off the rock alone w/ only my fears to serve as friends a gaudy, calm late-afternoon fall day - a pride of sea lions upon the spit, splashing and laughing, their slim, pale forms from high above troubling the waters not a bit...

10/15 - day 28 turned 43 thursday, even as tornadoes swept the town and the hard hail rained down - friday was day drinking and a trip to the dog-park w/ the wife - got in a freezing cold swim saturday, then some skerry movies w/ the family until midnight sunday was adam's after 9, steve n' the prodigal son kenny rumbling around too under the haze and in a biggish breeze - took some time to get our plans sorted out - thought we were gonna all tag-team jensens but then it was just me n' steve down w/ that, they onto local access instead not the worst fall weather for jensens, but stiff at any rate - i got blown around on the ever interesting first pitch, and steve wasn't so impressed w/ continuing up from there, but i managed to thrash him up one pitch higher before bailing - it was quite cold, and the lichen in high winds is a bitch - we left a rope fixed for a rematch sometime soon did a corner crawl afterwards, having a hoo-down on the ledges along the way - good stories - goals for life and such - warm water and 40 oz dreams....

i can rest easy knowing not one of my partners would feel so awful about getting me greased

hood's like a hot chick - worth taking your time, getting to know her good n' proper, before making the big move, then after you've climbed on top of her a good number of times, you get a much better idea of what you're doing and increase yours odds of being able to do so indefinitely from then on after

for every one of us living in this world means waiting for our end let he who can achieve glory before death when a warrior is gone that will be his best and only bulwark

10/4 - day 27 - lap 18 dastardly defalcations crop up in these deadly days, 'cuz -it's the mild man who cruises through them w/ care n' comes straight to safer shores w/ a a true n' towering buzz a gentle fall afternoon - gentle breeze, gentle air - the far forest unsmoking now - the ghostly burnt standing sentinels showing totally clean floors- all the shite-wands a man might want to bolt-fuck his way up laid bare n' just right over there, go get'em boys a crew on bluebird, otherwise a vacant, subdued scene - i scuttle silently up the south-east corner, the song inside me suspended for some time now i fear - curious how the significant humors that sculpt a man shift and settle, like tides upon the beach, the sands waxing and waning, and all heading towards a suspicious conclusion... not a soul to see, i settle on a ledge and think thoughts of bloody revolution n' nurse the necessary things - these bastards have to learn sometime, no? so when shall that be? the bolt hangers back at the top of the final ridge now, should that put a bee in yer bonnet international taco day i hear, how in tepid hell did it come not to be on a tuesday?

give it time, i'd say, as not that much precip has fallen to let the freeze/thaw thang work - at this rate, another month i'd say... worst case, you get a healthy bit of exercise n' take your tools for a walk just like you would your dog though

bully for the hard-on that fawk'n hef built!

careful there, boy-o, he who listens to that slick serpent's lying tongue is turning his back on his salvation [video:youtube]

ah, now i see how that talus field got there

hmm - i don't think i've done either of those west side climbs - i'm always seeing yer car out there but never somehow seeing you - gotta poke my head over the railing's more often i guess...

now that's a 360 degree adventure

9/27 - day 24 - lap 17 back to school night, so just a bit of time to fill in w/ sheenanigans before heading back to work in the evening a big, busty wind, but no smoke that i could see - i think they done broke the back of that eagle crick burning bastard jim n' sal n' steve n' that busted-foot lady i've met before, all chatty-chatty at the base of the corner - a smooth ascent, but the flawless rating lost when a foot blew out above grassy ledges of all places - a pair of neophytes freshly finishing warriors, which jim had steered them to after they'd been geared up for the corner sad sight on the trail down - a lady w/ her epileptic dog, post grand mal seizure, trying to reassure it back to health - on the off chance she's listening, it's phenobarbital that's seemed to stave off the same problem w/ my wife's pooch for the past 2 years...

his name's sal, actually - he ain't seen his balls since the clinton administration, so i think you're set, so long as you keep moving

9/24 - day 23 no rock today, but the river instead - pat in town w/o warning, a notice on friday night for fuck's sake - a sudden feeling-out, authored by anastasia no less, an offer to cross the columbia in unusual style, swimming of course saturday was a trip to suss out the stepladder situation, followed by a peek up pinto rock - good times - almighty cold up there actually - fall came fast pat at the house for saturday night, i arrived late - the whole family together on the couch n' pizza n' burgundy n' a coupla episodes of "orville" - a heap of a hoot, but the wife was asleep early and soon i crawled that way too sunday pat n' i galloped gorge-ways w/ the obligatory stops for offensive fast-food offerings - met nastia in camas after she called for a delay, n' she arrived sick as the proverbial puppy our plans for a hood river cascade crossing suddenly all in a-hoo, we called the audible and bent our way to the beacon boat-launch instead - basked in the sultry sun and crisp autumnal air down by the dock, waiting for the right moment to throw ourselves in the water - nastia waffled on whether she'd wade in as well, n' ultimately walked the bank instead, willing us on our way cold as hell in january, we jumped in and started paddling - the river so pitifully low we had to stand up and walk some sections as we headed east towards the end of pierce island - time passed - seaweed - clam shells - schools of fingerling fish - the water warm enough i guess, an honest incentive to keep going at least after a bit of walking, we reached the main channel n' it was time for decisions - at first i was determined to eschew the main crossing n' keep the wife happy - there was plenty to see as dangerous: a ripping current, a bulging barge heading west at a frightening speed, throwing off a bow-wave that was itself intimidating, let alone let the damn thing run over you - plenty of power-boats beside the delight of light-speed swimming down the island though was i guess too much - just floating in the current we were flying, so much so i reckoned wearing a fucking helmet not such a bad idea, as w/ the murk in the water, you could very well barrel into a submerged object at break-neck speed enjoying just how easy it was to move, i looked back n' saw pat was heading south, oregon-bound, n' it was time to measure my manhood i guess - spur of the moment, it seemed to follow across was perfectly possible, and so then i was splashing south too - didnt' seem a thing until we were well across, when a boat came bearing down n' there wasn't much anything to do - then the shore itself, studded w/ dozens of fisher-men, all w/ their lines in the water, n' the whole coast therefore as nefarious as normandy, decidedly uninviting, but little choice as to an alternative soaked n' sodden, i hauled meself ashore to incredulous eyes - a bit of a nervous chuckle, n' then the odd site of watching a forest ranger walking the beach, telling every last man he met to fuck-off, as everything was ordered closed by the eagle creek fire, still smoldering in eye-sight i'd felt a bit desperate the last stretch into the arms of the fishermen, and looking north was uncertain how to proceed - walking back upstream before recrossing seemed a good idea, but w/o shoes unlovely indeed - pierce island seemed maybe long enough to let us make it back, the current bedamned, and somehow we thought it easily possible i felt the Big Fear only a hundred yards out, a great big gorilla crowding out every other consideration - i've seen this bitter demon so many times before, and it's a devil better left way down in the hole - panting, passing west at a bewildering clip, it was obvious i'd be swept past beacon before touching the washington shore, and all i could think of was bailing back to oregon, even if that option seemed fucked - i got better things to do then die today, i reckoned turned around and didn't feel a bit bad about it - pat eventually followed too, but we were split up and returned well apart - he nattering unhappily w/ fisherman who felt it necessary to call him an idiot, our boy never one to welcome a rebuke - i was happy w/ whatever just to be back on dry land and figured, one way or the other, we'd finagle our way back to washington an offer of a boat-ride from a nice lady by a boat-launch, and humorously enough, the feller who'd just been bellowing at pat was the guy she directed to do it - a socially awkward roar back across the river at warp 5, taking all of 2 minutes, deposited us right by nastia, bathing in the sun n' sweating out a fever bowls n' belly-laffs n' some beers n' butts by the dock-shore - the good life of the laggard slumming it in the sadly failing fall sun, then eventually home n' hearth n' tomato canning n' crawling back into the work-week w/ a suspicious smile and what do we say to the god of death, my dear? not today not today