ivan

fire...fire on the mountain!

9/22 - day 22, lap 16 my autumnal ambitions of beyond the dreams of wildest avarice paid off in spades - the corner a treasure trove of wondrous delights, my eyes as wide as The Dude when he's just checked in to see what condition his condition was in - manna from heaven just kept falling from all around muthafuckers - lord how i love the complete fucking amateurs hereabouts rick n' steve n' a Right Olde Hollee Shit of a hootenanny soon thereafter - ole'rick's looking a tad too thin, we gotta feed him some corn-beef n' cabbage n' get'em back thick - blood red sky on the slow crawl back, the sun divided today in even bits, how i hope i shall survive to see the other side...

cc.retard is entering it's post-comments phase

9/16 - day 21 - laps 14-15 the day begun after delicious sleep, the air so lively and cool now, the fan thudding away in the darkness, dispersing the humid demons of late first it was climbing w/ ben, then it wasn't, then it was again, and then i simply said fukit n' headed out alone, figuring something would shape up great gusts of wind, the smoke blowing wildly - lines of traffic though 84 is half open now - limited visibility - st. peter's dome like a looming demon, perfectly outset from the cliff behind, spectral, silent, wrapped in clouds of smoke though it was a good n' gloomy drive, ozone was packed and beacon too - topher n' tim on blood, sweat n' smears, struggling but not quite brought to tears - one lap up the corner, then two, the second pausing atop flying swallow to watch the action below big ledge n' enjoy some beerz big rain on the way - i'm over the surreality of these recent smoky weeks - hoping for a great soak to chase away the cloud-murk, then indian summer for as long as it can be sustained

this ain't so bad neither if'n yer really feeling like bawling like a damn baby [video:youtube]

why not let the man sing his own song on the way outta town? [video:youtube] good thing luke ate the egg n' so swallowed his sin...

wise sir, do not grieve it is always better to avenge dear ones than to indulge in mourning for every one of us living in this world means waiting for our end let he who who can achieve glory before death when a warrior is gone that will be his best and only bulwark

or is it possible it was all the speed he took to stay intense?

i thought jonesy the goddamn kitty-cat kilt him years ago?

naw, no fears on junior-G - an over-fed yet well-bred italian even now is streaming up i-5 to make him an offer he can't refuse

9/14 - day XX, lap XIII an awful n' orange sky as i plied east, intent on planing down the passions that do accumulate eagerly from time to time over the drip-drip of a day limpid air, high clouds, the slow smoke seemingly w/ nowhere to go, it just sits there sullenly in the great valley - the choppers thud away, doing the dance of the valkyrie, dumping their loads n' limping away - time stands still beacon all in a hush, the lot forlorn, i head out under a surreal sky - the base and a half-beer, i banter w/ a cute couple and crawl away upwards - the ledge, the slab, the ramp, another ledge again, no sights to be seen well across the way to the oregon side - obvious bands of dead trees, mostly well above the highway - extensive cutting above 84, bright white stumps marking the passing of the primal scurge cameron n' his comrade who's name for chrissakes i can't recall (i spent a good time scratching my head to summon cameron's back to mind afterall) - they done w/ young warriors, we wound our way together up the final ridgeline, n' had a good laugh at the shiny new belay bolt at the top already having been disassembled, the rock-dust from the drilling not even having had time to be washed away before it was dispatched back in the lot, an amazing site - some guitar-playing fool going damn near 60 n' westbound suddenly flew into the ditch, bouncing viciously in the rubble, rubbing up against the stony hillside, rolling nearly 180 onto his backside before bashing back into the main thoroughfare, the bottom of his ride clearly ripped out and his beer certainly spilled don't worry, he came to rest, quite crucified, broken body n' spirit, in the beacon rock ranger parking lot - i'm unsure his trials n' tribulations were at an end...

w bush ate goat once - took him a while to digest it

9/13 - day 19, lap 12 the hump day dispensed, the air clear n' coolish, i eschewed a long swim in favor of a hootenanny out beacon-way - columns of smoke billowing into the balmy sky, 84 still closed, crowds of cars pouring out of the gorge on the washington side as i breeze eastwards, eager to see the waning summer survive a bit longer bill coe leaving cryptic messages on jim's rambling ride - jim n' sal n' adam n' a foreign-speaking feller at the bottom of rhythm method - some good gavreeting - tried to put on sal's harness for a lap but it was silliness indeed, n' i wasn't so keen to climb-up n' climb-down w/ just a bow-line about me beer-gut the corner alone then - a good crisp wind to go w/ - a lovely lady following young warriors pitch 3 n' a bit of bantering, then bounding up again w/o interruption (i busted my lap-beer w/ the boys, so no need to tarry) an easy orbit back - life's too easy - i fear the turning of the page...

shit, ole-boy, you're getting close to passing me on the tr count - i need to start reaching back into the boozy time-fog to finagle a comfortable lead again will cc.retard be able to handle the tale of a phat aid-climber clubbing infinite bliss into a non-consensual hate-fuck? if only i'd taken pictures... this trip couldn't have been recent, you can see more than a half-mile n' no smoke!

miss hester moffat?

lub'ly

9/9 - day 18 another burning day in the gorge, this one a bit gusty, so the fires bloomed as the wind blew passed out by 9 the night before - adam said he wanted a solid sleep in, so when i awoke at 5 i had little choice but to get a pre-dawn drunk on in order to nap again before leaving at 11 cool n' breezy, the first day of climbing in pants since squamish in june - the eagle-creek sizzle continued unabated though, w/ the frantic all-day dance of the hueys a constant fucking reminder pipeline - adam did it fine while i fucked around w/ my belay book - "the barbarous years" - turns out them early colonists were kinda cock-suckers afterwards we ambled up jensens first pitch n' then did some scrubbing n' fumbling on red ice - i did such a infelicitous job on tr that poor adam said fuck it... spitting rain by cape horn on the drive out, then pouring by camas - could be the cure for our recent calamity?

this way <=

make cc.retard grate again!!!

i blame the Juice

beacon's doing better...

9/8 - day 17, lap 11 the world turned upside down, the weak turds discouraged by the Great Eagle Crick Cook-Up of 2017 - 4 days after the big burn began, the Lords of Beacon re-opened the park so i scooted in to see what was still standing despite the rumors of raging destruction, both sides of the gorge look good enough - oregon still smoking away of course, and the archer mtn sizzle continues, but 14 was clear, if a little traffic choked, and sunbreaks even showed here and there, a bit startling after a week solid of a sad, orange sun hardly able to scowl down on us in it's late summer-glory beatard itself like the great n' querulous Khaleesi, totally unburnt despite the dangers close aboard - the local boys out in full force - adam n' dave n' steve, their homes still standing, undaunted n' undying, crawling all over the south side n' uncrying bits of burnt debris all over, lifted up from the oregon side i'm sure after a flight thousands of feet up - seems 99% of it all was well out by the time it settled, but that 1% was clearly a bitch lotza new bolts on the wall of the sport-boys there by blade-runner - looks to be getting some activity n' that's fine by me - the welcome table is well when it is widely set gut-lafz n' giggles w/ the crew up on snag ledge - we banter a bit before they all go away, then i bound up to grassy ledges for a beer and a bit of determined gazing at the gaudy scene before me - smoke rising east, north, south, n' west - fire clearly ragin up every canyon south of the river - chinooks cruising past w/ water buckets - hueys dully chopping away at the air like its doomed saigon in spring oddly, train traffic un-interrupted on both sides of the river, even though on the south side the track wends in n' out of 84, which is closed to all the trail down totally quiet, not a hiker in sight - the archer mountain smolder quite clear in the near horizon - the high-pitched whine of a generator somewhere close by, i assume powering some omnipotent attempt by humble humans to tame tumultuous nature i was careful not to trammel the sweet-green mantis feeding on the tawny grassy ledge - we are all Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God, and so Judgement is not just now in our own best interest, got it?

but damn, don't this mean you can't take beerz n' dope for the slummit?

crowds suck - olympus mons is currently completely without lines though

my second year in a row of getting skunked on opening day of school n' not being able to get my beatard on - closed the park - it's death to go down 14!!! beatards don't die, they just burn down to their roots, n' burst back out later like the fawk'n poison oak filth they be