ivan

were the germans wearing foam helmets when they attacked us at pearl harbor?!?

no fair having fun on the top of high high high oregon

shee-it muslims, jay-b's back for a day too - a chance for me to use the word i encountered while pondering my dictionary during my morning shit syzgy. bitch. now that's gotta be good in scrabble...

1/10/16 - 4th year of setting down the shit that does down in beatardia, where men are women and women are never around was a rude late fall/early winter season - the big blow of early november annihilated the hiking trail and i woulda been pissed about it if'n never-ending rains hadn't set in and made soloing laps insane anyway a late december trip out w/ geoff at the start of winter break - we ended up just drinking beers n' smoking shit n' commenting on the awful, awful slickery nature of everything - the wall closed at ground zero and so nothing aidable particularly of interest christmas ensued and all was well - didn't have the cash or the clock-time to go for a long off trade to red rocks or whatever, so the only local option was heading up to the puget sound and make a water-man of meself again - last year was great, a 3 day back-pack on the olympic coast n' a 2 day ocean kayak this time around it was a 6-day sea window beat up north in the early hours of 12/27, bent out of my mind it seemed, water streaming along the side of the automovat - seattle shortly after dawn, proud pat all pat-like made our way to the marina n' nattered in the cold light waiting to meet up w/ our captain, a true comedy of errors - soon enough we were on board and casting off sweet simple sailing southward in light airs, past bouys bestowed with sealions - seals - dolphins - eagles both american and candadian i bet - the pleasant site of a 'lion bolting down a full-growth salmon by tail the last bit into port orchard by motor, the night come round so soon - carriers at bremerton ashore we 'sup n' carouse n' enjoy ourselves capitally - meet a sheila-acquaintance of denali dave's round the fireplace n' philsophize over the weight of smoke before rambling off to a sea-berth sail oughta town the next day and all was well - got meself nearly kilt by a swinging boom just shy of brian island or somethign like that - spent much of the night dazed as could be but enjoyed a grand time nonetheless binging on burgundy, n' noble reds n' flowing bowls of what-have-you until 2 in the morning awoke feeling near as death as i've felt in awhile - the hard-knock the day before was certainly one of my fabled 9 lives n' i felt the truth of it - grayed out - feeling the cold i'd inherited from the silverton clan plus the concusssion plus the cold above deck plus the deep, deep fucking booze funk they all thought i was dead the day before and grew doubly grim when i was drawing breath the day after but groaning - turned into me laying in agony on the cabin bench n' holding me head together as we steamed back to seattle against a solid breeze the rest of the day was a healing thing - pat flung himself into the sound in his wetsuit as i laid around his joint, showering and trying to sleep off my fucking concussion - that night we did some super-stoned shopping n' headed over to his girlfriend's for a sumptous dinner set against a most scorchign cold outside - i cackled n' thumbed through 1960's civil defense brochures while pat snored n' i made small talk w/ his missus and her very alien animal 3 days of ocean kayaking ensued - launched out from an indian reservation near bellingham, stocked up on cheap injun smokes - the rudder was rudely impaired n' pat didn't know but had me in the back anyhow, so after hours of bitching n' cussing we finally fetched up on clark island soaked rather wet we came straight ashore n' made camp in what proved to be a damned cold place - made a roaring fire n' had a bit of a good night - italian fare i recollect - olives n' red sauce n' sausage tortellinis n' mozeralla n' red wine - a sputtering fire, a bit of a dissapointment but soon enough the tent beside a snoring pat n' i slept soundly, the head cold resonating through me day 2 of the ocean kayak we resolve to shift our camp southwards on the island but no further - find a sweet cove filled w/ firewood n' a sweltering sun, relative to our recent camp - we souse along the shore for a bit n' later launch for a trip to a nearby island where pat is molested by sheep great night, this one - we were promised the northern lights but they never appeared but fuck it - it was new years eve - we sat by a roaring fire n' enjoyed bacon n' chili n' what-have-you, me sucking down pionot noir n' smokes n' enjoying the simpleness of being stranded at sea new year's eve we returned to civilization n' after a bit of agony i made it home in time for winter weather and a nice delayed start to the school year but this a beacon thread, n' so all this stuff before is simple bullshit n' i apologize for it today was day 1! corner lap #1, but not solo n' gladly not geoff at the bk a bit past 10 - we saunter eastwards by strong light n' stronger winds the parking lot in a simple gale - we pack and wander down, bound n' determined to reach the top of the uprising and to suss out the damage from there cold n' icy but delightfully dry - i take pitch 1 n' we alternate from there - snow patches here and there, but dry where it needs to be - some beers along the way n' we get time to poke our head over the railing n' take in the carnage on the touron-trail - much work to be done it's obvious - big blown out trees n' blowdown n' battered stones - we take it in and scoot down the raps in the big blow n' enjoy some beers and ramboling aroudn and reach back for home here's to 2016

my 4th year of documenting daily beatardia - rather a slacker year than those before, but i reckon that not such a rude thing really - spent much of the summer in yosemite n' up round tower rock doing rare thangs - you be around beacon too much you just ain't original, right? 1/9/2015 - day #1 - couldn't let a full week of january go by w/o putting in an appearance - thanks kevbone, absentee landlord-ye-be, for getting me on the kick years ago of noting what was worth NOT bitching about over the course of the beatard year did 3 solo laps last january, but 1's plenty enough for me a year later - the classic approach through the lulls n' roars of the gorge - plenty windless at the lot though, barely w2 conditions, though still plenty chilly - took a dump n' renewed me year pass in 4 minutes, then galloped off for the main show - cold n' darkish but good enough and done in a saintly way, me pious n' piss skert in places, but nothing to really worry about a long rotation home - holy shit i wish the whole year could be so balmy 1/21 - day 2 - VICTORY!!! not that i ever need an excuse to get me some bacon, but today i was compelled to put in an appearance at the skamania court house - larry the tool (you know, the new one who was a lot like the old one?) saw fit to write me a 138$ ticket last november for getting back to the devil an hour after dusk, as apparently the current regime wants to say that's the same as bivying or doing a midnight ascent - don't know what the new feller was all butt hurt over, maybe it was just the shame of having to be bailed out of a bad spot last summer after his incompetence made itself plain before the very people he aspires to lord it over? anyhow, i asked for my day in court and had a capital time today seeing justice in action - took a half day off and got good enough weather for a quick stop at beacon- gabbed w/ old man jeff n' coastie adam about the gubimint - they then were off to see what those rat bastards have been up to over on the what-have-you lately - i romped down to the base for a solo in street shoes n' shirt n' tie up the first half of the first pitch - then raced back up to the lot and hopped into the devil and bounded on in to stevenson in time to take my seat the courthouse reminds me a bit of church - same sad old faces all around - same smell of worn wood and the same deep solemnity suffused through the assembly - the judge was a jovial looking chap at least sat on the group W bench awhile reading my national geographic and grinning to hear all the cases of my fellows next to me who'd gotten the big dickie from the beacon man since thanksgiving - it was a mort of my fellow 'mericans, and they mostly got their fines reduced and a friendly reminder to Render on to Ceasar What Is.. then it was my turn to take the big oath and do my song and dance - i was delighted to see the Man With The Robe quickly warming to my argument - a decade of getting back to lot after dark with nary a ticket - the custom quite clear: pay yer 10 clams if yer bivying on the rock or doing a moon-light ascent, but never this nickel and dime "yer back 10 minutes after dusk" bullshit i'm paraphrasing for the purpose of comedy i concede, but the Man in Black basically said repeatedly: "i get it, i get it, the bastards out there at beacon are little bitches, but i can't tell them what to do - all i can do is throw out their tickets, which is what i'm going to do" - SCORE! and then the best line of all: "have you posted about this on cascade climbers? i hear that's a good place to discuss these issues" so anyhow that's how the ball bounced - with a healthy reaffirmation for yer friend and humble narrator as to the virtue of our montesquien machine of government - one hand wacks on the other, eh? celebrated the greatest civil rights victory of our modern age by gulping down a pabst and sprinting up the trail in the dusk, taking a slight detour into the weeds after my hat got blown off my head at the top of uprising - then it was back to the big city and a union meeting in closing, if there's anythign serious to discuss here, what think you to a nocturnal version of the annual 30$ park pass? i'd easily get 30$ of night climbing in each year, plus be protected against this penny-ante crap 1/25 - day 3 - a day to die for - the circle complete - beacon set to close up shop for a mighty long season but fate vouch-safed to chuck this plum in a poor fools lap before it could sling off into spring 'twas a week for settling old scores - my court-date a comely kick-off, it was time to finish the climb adam and i had started that ill-omened late autumn day - we'd bailed from 2 pitches up, having to leave a tangle of biners and webbing to make the 5 lbj-era bolts up there work - hate to let a year go by w/o climbing jensens, and lordy didn't the stars align to reclaim the gear and get lit like a lord in doing so first it was me n' adam on the list - then it was me n' adam n' goeff - it grew then to the 3 of us n' bryan too, then finally even fucking mike was coming out of his homo-biking hermitage to have at it w/ o - a 5-spot for fortune n' fleeting greatness started poorly enough - me n' mike sitting at the b.k. for a good bit waiting for the assembly of demi-gods to gaggle together - eventually bryan and goeff showed a half hour late but i didn't mind - heavy fog in camas but frequently giant flocks of geese would go raging by above, gaudy as ghosts, gallumping off north - we gave adam 3 minutes to arrive then called to discover he was still snoozing in bed - damn, my cheap oregon smokes were in danger (and shit, i never did give that boy his 5-spot! remind me when next we meet, hear?) sunny on the south side but a bit of a breeze - quite the clown-fucking convention we had to contend with - eventually we got it settled - geoff lead p1 whle mike belays and bryan and i get to guzzle beer and recollect it as recreation geoff got his redemption for shitting between the sheets last month in a steel breeze - mike followed then bryan - adam was there by then, and goeff chucked down the other end of a 70 as bryan was climbing so i could send up another line and the li'l dawg - bryan cast off on p2 as i started jugging and i had a penthouse view of him slip-slidign away on the awful slippery lichenated stone - i had some gut-chuckles w/ the boys n' a butt too as we buttoned-up against the breeze, then bryan was there and i went on up to him to help out in getting An Anchor For a Modern Era bryan was over his dream of repeating a free-ascent of the money pitch and suddenly i found myself delighted to get that pithy peach - adam was still on the ground, connected to us w/ a 70 - geoff came up on the new anchor as i launched into the incredible start that is jensen's 3rd pitch just starting the 11a crack on a blind placement time went by - jim and bill arrived below - lichen populated my eye-balls - the laughable # of 3s, 4s, n' 5s i had got whittled away and then i was there - bryan followed, panting in the odd hibernal-heat as he made the pillar-top - he rested and sorted as geoff followed then was off lickety-split, ending up aiding plenty of the pitch mike jugged up in a jiffy n' got a spiffy pano need to put a decent anchor in the lower nothc of jensens as i was a wee bit unhappy in my pee-pee places to see what had been holding me from flying through the sky down to the sea - an ocean of ants, the fould reek of formic acid exploding on the scene - frogs creek n' croaking, the whole world in wonder at the folly of winter with her guard down, panties askew and napping suddenly we were all at the railing w/ jim n' hogsheads of tourons trundlign up down and all around - butts n' beers n' bullshitting and a fine heady-brew of homo sapien comraderie - the parking lot in the dying lot - pbrs n' pleasant conversation as adam went down to fetch the what have yous, then we set our sights west and went back to being ordinary men poor adam - he ripped 50 feet of poision oak cables out of lay lady lay and the vicinty w/ not even gloves on his hands - he'll be in intensive care till next christmas i fear 1/26 - day IV for the annum - 2nd corner lap of this crisp season too - a warm night of good vibes after yesterdays jensens gang-bang - peanut noodles n' kids games, tv on the couch and a soft slink off to slumber covered in cushions monday off for grading but i'd binged and purged friday night to get that dispatched - a sound sleep-in after somnambulating upstairs this side of dawn - book reading in the bright fog outside my bedroom window - the simple life of simon peg sounded n' sorted out before i need to take the first dump of the day bacon w/ the kids, math-book bound though they were - a bit of wine n' honey and off i was down the sacred highway - beacon not near so balmy as so soon ago - a filtered light came greyly through the high cloud murk, the airs light and limp and heavyish with dampness a couple on the corner already but i breezed by at tree ledge - read an old translation of beowulf on the party ledge and nursed a beer, then up and out via the ridge - more beer n' book by the pin in the last bit of direct sun that could be brought to bare there - croc-shod i clamber up to the trail and the site of former students, their names not recollected till i was several switchbacks further down the long binge home w/ a 3-buck hat pulled low down where my eyes glim - the sun's near set and i sweat not to see the last part of this annual campaign ably dispatched 1/29 - day 5 - wholly shiite muslims, 5 days of fine beacon climbing in the king-of-winter and 2 more days left in the month n' fine weather forecast for each'o'them too! - my 3rd solo lap of the year beautiful balmy thursday - the sun bright through the window of my classroom trailer - had no thought of beacon but by noon the desire-burn was bright - an annual bit of adjudicating upon the appeals of the absent in the afternoon, then that dispensed with, a desperate rage down the road into the sudden howling winds of the gorge - where did that wicked wind come from? it was so sweet before - like another fall of man, the ledger long unbalanced, the measure made right with the meat thrown against the wall two ladies rambling up the trail as i lounged down after a frenzy of dressing n' dandyning meself up decent for the big blow in the parking lot - 2 more fellows earning the Ascent of the Day on young warriors, deep in shadow and bounding up unabashedly despite it the breathe of the lord upon me - only the penitent man will pass - my doom diverted for now, i made my way up the windy hill and rumbled on down soon thereafter, my soul done up and ready for glory to the heavenly tune of tom waits' "come on up to the house" my quotidian quote n' a personal favorite, a t.j. classic: "calamity was our best physician" 1/30 - day VI (holy fawk, did i really just hear the nfl's throwing in the fucking towel on latin numerals?!? jesus fucking fuck fuck!) a rare auold junuary, the right kind really - 1 more day of winter afore the winter avalanches in n' shuts the cliffs for the fornication of the falcons - mike's after 3 - beers and bullshit'n on the way in - breezy for sure, but not batshit-so adam in the lot - we ambulate to the base in the big wind and Walk Around the Issues who can't love this life, it passes so even as you piss away the dregs of yesterday? closing day 2015 - 7th day out at beacon this year - foggy and chilly-chilly at home in the dawn, lately dusted off from the couch - the boys at the b.k. soon thereafter - into the gorge the wind gathers wicked force - cruising w/ cold fingers, we fumble on up the rest the corner ducking and dodging through the plaid-man the rest of the day rightly desposed, beer drinking and fucking around on the sunny side where the wind ramped up beyond all expectations and so the sun sets on the southside - we shall see it soon enough i wager 2/22 - Dia VIII - sunny sunday - predictions for Big Wind but it wasn't really there - a weekend w/ the brudder n' family big n' small on saturday, also biking by the shrieking birds w/ the chilluns - a sound sleep-in - bacon n' eggs n' toast n' streaming sun through the windows - my beer gut hated upon by my helpless forebears the plan was for a solo of pitch 1 of THE WORLD FAMOUS STONE SOUP - binged n' purged on the big orbit in after noon - racked up in the baby breeze - big flakes down the past few months, the bric'a'brac of busted trees all around - scooted up to the pin n' remembered rather drunkenly you need a pretty-durn big cam just there that i didna have, so after a come-to-jeebus session of thrashing around on untrustworhty shite i rapped off that n' a bit of booty, cleaning as i went allright, looks like i have a reason for living come monday afternoon roamed around the base abit w/ friendly pbr's n' saw steve up high on the spring routes, n' fir-krissakes, how's that good-ole'boy always manage to be climbing w/ a girl? 2/23 - 9th bite of bacon for 2015 so far - darted out soon after the final school bell to rescue my bail gear on stone soup from yday - a much easier pitch when you have the proper gear about 30 minutes from ground to the 1st anchor - the 2nd pin came out in my finger-tips but it never was all that necessary - suuuuure hope the same knifeblades on pitch 4 are in better shape this season - need to actually carry a hammer next time i ramble on up there... 3/4 - day 10 - took the day off to do some union agitating but it abated soon after noon - winged it out to beacon and got another solo lap on stone soup in despite my snot-filled senses wrecking my equilibriums full spring in the fucking first week of march, the world flipped on it's frack'n vernal maidenhead Beware the Ides - day 11 - beware indeed for it was a day of woe stacked on woe - started amiably enough, a good sleep-in to the dull roar of rain outside the open windows (what a joy of summer to have come so soon) - met geoff at 9, gusts of raining galling the rain-wracked parking lot - our plan was siege tactics, always dry despite the worst the weather can offer geoff got lap 1 and misfortune 1 of the day for me was some odd bit of grit creeping in my open eye and progressively offending me w/ every passing minute - within 2 hours i was almost blind - got my lap in and even moved onto the other unnamed wonder under the roof (starts on the headspace bolt but goes right thereafter) before the combination of continuous crying and sketchy hooking sent me home geoff drove the red devil to camas at least, and by then the predicted wind had whipped up something fierce, him dodging downed trees n' sizzling power lines the whole way back, me keening n' cursing my old-skewl god's condemnation - my leg back to home was classic - one eyed, finger-pushing the offending orb into its socket to gain its pain-surrender, swerving out of the way of every wind-blown, coursing sprig of cedar, ignorant n' uncaring of the 3rd dimension - woe #2 on the arrival, the big breeze succeeding in blowing down 2 of my 4 backyard fences, to much horror to handle n' for certain the problem of the future - the rest of the day couch-bound n' crest-fallen, fresh-showered n' well sodden... 5/3 - day 12 - off my pace for the year - too busy doing other cool things - a trip to tower rock - union agitation on an increasingly grand scale - a week in red rocks and city of rocks today was stone soup - went extremely smoothly - bryan did p2, which i still haven't led since hurting myself on it last year - i was sorta dreading p5, with all of its fixed funky knifeblades, but they all held, so i reckon it's all good? anybody know what's going w/ the evergreens in the gorge? am i crazy or does damn near every pine near beacon show serious blight right now? tons of brown on most of the trees for miles - looks likely to burn like mad this summer if it continues. 5/9 - day 13 - way off my pace from last year weeks on end it seems union bidness dominating my thoughts - so sad, prime weather for poaching saturday at noon - the revenge rolls into a sun-soaked parking lot as i make parley w/ long-passed students n side climbing - love all dem new routes - we do one n' enjoy life - a foolish rap back down - jim gib-jabbering soon therafter - a quick run up the alpine route and we top-route the shit 'round stone soup the summer soon upon us - what fool sets this sorta shit aside? 6/11 - day 14 - seniors on the wing, graduation goes off tomorrow - an easy day of dispensing w/ the care-taker tasks before summer - practice walking w/ a pack of restless fools out to beacon for the big what-have-you - pulled in for some soloing-aiding on the soup aforehand - salvaged me some russki steel on the first pin - nastia says she's american, but her 'biner color-scheme is still solidly russki sudden politicking w/ suds out in godfirsaken stevenson - a good bit of the brethern assembled - lords know what will lay as a result, but let's not worry about that on the cusp of summer - a long orbit back, w/ a big semi-wreck sending my addled self of a disastrous detour ah, the simple time of summer is soon 7/15 - day 15 - opening day 2015 - hangover at dawn - plans for a big trip to tower rock so a 6 a.m. ascent it was - can't remember a thing about it but i'm sure it was great 7/21 - day 16 - back after a long trip to tower rock, bill n' i nonetheless rallied the morning after to do a corner lap in the wondrous cool of the mid-morning - clouds and breeze - a pair of bros pleasant enough to let us pass at the base - goddamn i still haven't figured out a way to start p2 w/o fucking up my shins and scaring shit out of myself - hidden treats - a lengthy yack-yack at the ledge - then home to prepare for the arrival of the family after a month n' a half away... bootied 2 phat steel biners off the base of p2 - might could make a present back of them if the feller who left them wants them n' understands it was either going to be me or the next party through to claim them as a prize 8/20 - day 17 - dod's w/ kenny, me rather rusty after a month of a whole lotta not climbing - practically a full division of armor heading west over the rail-head, a site i'd long wished to behold - christ, is summer so near deceased? 8/26 - day 18 - solo lap in the afternoon, moonlight climb at night - shared the stone w/ 2 lovely shielas on the first round (we bootied your nut if'n you want it back) n' the night round was w/ the silverman crowd - hooting n' hollering down on the dock w/ a drunken dave n' a krunked kenny - gripped drive home as the goddamn check engine light came back on 8/31 - day 19 - last day before returning to work - all good things.... takes fist w/ ben - hadn't climbed this in a coon's age, it sure hadn't gotten easier in the meantime 9/16 - day 20 - wow, all the signs show this'll be my least productive year at beacon since i rolled into the nor'west - only my 2nd solo lap since summer came - reckon i done been doing other things... squeeze job of a climb, 'twixt the regular end of the day n' back 2 skewl night - nobody about - grey, gloomy, still - lost some of the muscle memory of the route, occasionally stopping n' down-climbing little parts in order to do them right - free pink tricam if'n you want to pry it out of the 3rd pitch in the infamous nut-eating crack, i would but i already bootied 2 pinkies that i never ever seem to use... dead chipmunk gathering ants on the walk off up the ridge, poor li'l feller, but best to leave summer at it's end rather than suffer through the winter for no fawk'n reason, no? 9/19 - day 21 - steady mob'n'in'da morning - rocked the bofa the night before, waking up bright eyed n' whatnot, wrenching me neck a wee bit in the dawn - went to work for a spell, strange for a saturday, but sallied forth just a shade shy of noon n' noodled on out to the beacon-wand w/ geoff adam in the lot, then soon tim n' winter n' we hobnobbed a spell - shuffled on down to cruising w/ intent to check out cloud 9 - by the time we were there my time was shortish n' nobody seemed to relish the pg-nature of the newly cleaned route, so we settled for moving on up the normal way back in the lot started to build meself up into a towering jesus-based rage at the sight of a ticket on geoff's ride, me having scratched out the license # of the newly defunct red devil on my parking pass n' substituting his on in - walked into the ranger station, ticket in hand, feeling much like a feller rambling on into a liquor store in the depth of a meth-binge w/ a sawed off shotgun barely obscured beneath his grimy coat - all went well inside, in shah allah, n' happy i was as i had but 20 minutes to make a family photo-session in the 'couve n' had no time to dig deep holes in the woods or slip a 7-state man-hunt 9/21- the double-deuce day - solo lap 3 - busy monday, but belated plan to blast out to beacon w/ mike after beating down the union-bidness after skewl - late getting to his place n' i need to borrow everything but a pair of shoes to make a go of it, but a bit late we bounded out east into the impending evening hit the lot n' got all sorted n' soon sussed out Our Boy had brought no rope - was to be his first beacon climb of the year so maybe a bit of a bummer, but we settled for slumming it at the base w/ jim n' a fantastically furry old larry - a beer or two and some other thing sto boot n' mike n' i had a contest - who could make it to the top of uprising first: the feller on the trail or the feller soloing it? i lost laughs w/ dave in sadly shortened no-bo-trifecta soiree, then back for a short session of family time 9/24 - 23rd beacon trip for the year, solo lap #4 since summer broke crazy traffic on the drive, whatever...a parcel of folks gang-raping the first pitch - a feller doing his first gear lead on top rope, if only we all had such a gentle break-in after a year of fumbling w/ the crux on p2 i finally appear to have figured out how to do it calmly loose block on p5 up to the notch - can pull a grape-fruit sized chunk out w/ your fingers - tucked it back in carefully after noting there's no decent place to put it short of chucking it off the cliff started the long slow process of moving our friend n' humble forest feller the recently deceased chipmunk on down the way 9/26 - trip 24 - sunny n' damp n' foggish on the way in - geoff n' the revenge - beers and some big big laffs - cheating on little wing, that unrepentant li'l prostitute - tr'n on jills n' fear of fly'n - the artist-formerly-known-as-jimbo n' geo-orge n' more merriment at the base - time's up, i make my amends n meander on up the corner (lap #5) mal-fucking the crux for christ's sake - time for date-night n' the pickle-tickle 9/28- 25 beacon days for 2015 - lap #6 last night's blood-soaked full lunar eclipse left me feeling a bit like i'd blown a fine opportunity - how kewl it'dve been to have been clambering around like a demented lizard under that doomed sky settled for a quick redemption lap after school today, union-thoughts buzzing through my head and needing frequent beat-downs to focus on the next step ahead sunday someboyd must have put in a directional on the big broken block on snag ledge while tr'ing their partner on cruising (or fallen while doing the traverse as part of the corner) - the 100 lb chunk that once made up a big part of the traverse is now on the trail for only the 2nd time i managed to do the crux overhang move right - i need to intentionally focus my eye on where my left foot needs to go before committing into the sequence - it's freaky b/c i can't see the foot once my hands are on the block, but i think in theory the left really doesn't have to stick in order to move the right foot where it belongs - sure do like how it feels when it goes right... found a 60$ piece of lovely booty on p3 - describe it and offer me 15$ of a 12 pack of your choosing (i'll drink damn near anything) and it's your's again felt rewarded enough to finally deliver The Man the 2 rescue biners i bootied back in july - old boy's wing was all busted from doing the nutcracker recently - i hardly styled the thing mself last summer but at least emerged unscathed the first fall-ish climb of the year for me - done in shorts n' t-shirt but there was a big-old breeze that portended bigger things to come - had to pull up short just past the se corner notch to drink my pbr in piece from the wind - scampered on up afterwards and saw my friend n' humble forest-squirrel's corpse now Sleeps Beneath the Sands 9/29- 26 beacon days right-ill disposed in brawl ridiculous - 7th lap how patterns assemble at summer's end and would they could go on forever, these lazy days of dead september - a simple time really, w/ the faint wisps of dire responsibility - the orbit out - a puff, a butt, a beer - the radio soon turned off - a zen cloud descends - focus finds us in the name of fear a parcel of fools aroudn the rock - what a difference a day makes - yesterday righteous and lonely and lordly in the big presence of the rude weather - today the lot packed - jeff t, joey h, geoff, kenny, arndt, pilgrims all bent to a thousand seperate wheels and fates - i forfucked them all and crawled up the corner alone w/ my thoughts - only the penitent man will pass i said once and since then i've grown sour on salvation - i scraped up to the second pitch overhang, cocky w/ 2 recent right-sends and started to fuck it up - hemmed n' hawed, beating down back-mindedness, saved it and set meself straight boomed up the rest of the track - hidden treats - breezed through the ledge w/o taking in the sights - the optional hard exit - uprising - then down the trail and through the Twight-like Zone to hoot n' holler at our local beatards banging it out On The What-Have-You - who am i to judge the One True Bowie, after so many editor's scoldings? enjoyed soloing up to the 4th bolt then thought the better of it, retiring to the rocks to yelp n' yammer n' yee-gawds them goddam fools as they soared up straight like true warrior-clown-poet-god-hero-kings up rip-city 9/30 - september's not fucked dood, cock-tober's for abuncha goddamned frak'n amateurs - Ernie Bank Day at the park (#27)- "let's play two" that anti-poltroon opined, ain't it? lap 8-9 at any rate kenny n' new-guy jason it was at the start - never met a man w/ that moniker that wasn't a down-right psychopath i fear, yet was pleased to see such simple-isms ain't always so certain - breezed by Our Boy rattling his way up little wing, woe-be-gone-ish it was - i don't judge, it's for others to project their jurisdiction over me i see had no smokes n' cans for my fair-cousin, feared i was that to have brought them would have prejudiced me against a second lap, the likes i've not tempted since the big rock fall on the corner last summer - promised him i'd bring the poison on my second passing - it's a sweet ticket that carries us to our salvation yet another member of the nom-de-guerre club crumple-fucking his sad father-time fuck-show down to the party ledge i found upon uprising- for tax reason's i'll not lay his rude christian name on ye, save to say his sadistically sad stories yielded a rather more appropriate nom-de-not-cum result - shit, you had to be there i'd assert - the gawdamn internets w/ its nutty protocols, who can you please if you would be you? ran back into our boys on round 2 - enjoyed ourselves a spell - the summer re-visited - stories - what compels the human monkey to be so interested in his fellow mammals, it's a mystery, no? the good, the bad, the ugly recited. gut-laughs, lord how we need them. the 2nd crucial jug-hold on the 2nd pitch over-hang is loose - jesus.forking.christ - didn't we just deal w/ this? 10/2 - day 28 - lap 10 - 5 laps this work week, 7 beacon ascents in 7 days - who can't like fall? grey n' gloomy this friday - dull air - cool - spitting a thin spray on the windshield on the skedaddle in at the close of the working day ruminations at the base w/ a bespectacled beacon-boy-o in search of missing metal - damn gravity will get us all - some fat-jokes made at your friend n' humble narrator, but i guess i'm a big enough man not to begrudge'em father-time further up, deep in don quixote - i left a beer as a blessing n' boomed along n' back down in time for phriday w/ the family fiends - pizza n' do'watcha will, we'll all be pissed n' sated soon... 10/5 - day 29 - lap 11 indian summer is set upon us for a few more days at least - my birthday weekend sadly to be scuppered it seems by the soon-come falling goddamn damps - what can you do? thought for sure i had a Serious Bidness meeting afterschool but suddenly found meself free at the last minute so cast off in a frenzy just a few moments after the masses made their exit the orbit out obsessed w/ the same old mystery - the cuckold's enigma of the simple n' complex - the burden and wreck of the butterfly's breath on our noosed-necks old arlo sporting a curious queue, i breezed by quiet unawares father time and the mangled mayor n' the Keeper of the Ken - the world half-digested n' soon spat out - the setting sun n' the return to the sane and mundane 10/6 - deo XXX - 12th lap the rain threatens - doom upon us all - salvation is distant and saviors hesitant - desperate days and short time - the gods grow grim as the sun goes gaunt, the skin of the world is paper thin ruminations upon the libido rightly considered on the cruise out - the Lion Behind the Glass - the allure of danger safely contained, the frenzy in the fear, the prospect of passion set free upon an unprepared world - what waits said is goddamn-straight and will always be so, you just gotta keep that devil down in the hole a lonely corner crawl, light wind and cool commons - frogs for friends - beer n' a book on the ledge - the long way off the Keeper of the Ken on the verge of the Second Coming - his one hand washes the other - He Fears Nothing 10/8 - a proudly prime one, trip 31, lap 13 - the rain of yesterday quite dissolved - lord i got lit up on the front end of the day - the Panda Problem Considered - the teacher's year quite systematic - day 1 you pick up a ball and start tossing it around, day 2 they hand you another, then another, then another - somewhere near the 15% mark you start feeling awed by your own power, True Master of the Impossible, then soon thereafter get the first solid cold of the season, struck down like a simpleton on the path to damascus, even as the balls pile up, and often give in to base despair my tower rock trip quite tossed out, i look forward to 3 days worth of tending bulging buds n' shifting out smith-wards w/ Big Ben 10/12 - day 32, lap 14 - by my rough calculations it's been 14975.25 days since i left the womb - my 41st birthday at any rate - felt a wee bit nervous on the ascent, who wants a fuck'n snarky foot-note on their fell tome? large meteorite strike near the young warriors cleaing - a 100'lb'er i'd say, half-buried in it's impact crater - musta fallen since last friday - nut booty on p2, should you wish to slum it... 10/14 - 33rd beatard day - my 15th lap - rommel died this day - hastings happened and harold wept w/ a worried eye - i wandered away in the afternoon after ambivalent amusements of the professional kind, curious and cruel, is it so for all i wonder? beers and bright wind - worrying i wind away alone along a crooked course - the lot loaded w/ citizens of all sort - the rock redounds w/ reprehensibles of every strip - steve n' kenny, dave n' that-dude-who's-name-escapes-me sea-lions in strong numbers stirring the waters - a sordid country tune you've no reason not to give a chance... [video:youtube] 10/15 - day 34 - lucky 16 - a sight i'd never seen, as sweet and serene a by-product of initiative 502 as could be - sultry beauties on the descent, quite surprised, as sure as they'd been of a lonely summit - We could not help but tarry and oh-sweet-jesus it was lovely despite the big, big breezes 10/16 - #35, lap 17 - union bitterness n' beer-drowned badness at the back end of the working day - out to the royal rock as the rays grew red n' stretched - so many men in motion - i romp up in a half-reef wind, realizing the brethern will be rounded up right soon - adam n' kenneth, cocooned in comfort - steve n' nastia, creeping up soon in course - me in the middle, mindless n' mirthful - the world is wicked but i am fucking good, and so goes friday 10/20 - #36, 18th lap - macarthur fulfilled a famous pledge this day, and after 3 days of solid soaking, so did i - w/ temerity i plied the pilgrim path, tremulous at the prospects of a slimy ascent - topher n' his shiela alone at the base of the southeast corner - pleasant conversation n' a slow plodding paw-up for me soon after - a simple climb through a sordid, somnolent sky followed by a fast descent to fetch the boy-child n' carry him off to scouts the fall is fast fading, the big blows of ancient autumn hovering hard-upon the eastern edges of the gaunt gorge n' threatening to descend - what hoary-haired centurion could not tremble at it? the dice will be cast, and who will count the dead? trafalgar day, 210 years later - lap 19, n' day 37 - sweet teen dreams, if only i could describe them - would that i could make this sultry stone my hms victory, yet happy am i to have it my simple hms sophie - "beacon expects that every man will do his duty" - could i do better? indian summer un-ending, these are sweet times we live in my friend - extravagant jolly-green giants w/ so-n-so in our hands, etc., etc. vexing vixens preying upon my preternatural mind, i made my way through the pierced valley, intent upon glory or disgorgement - a venerable veteran in the lot, heavy-clad betwixt wind n' water against the venomous vines n' beside himself to heave away towards obligations i can not guess what light winds, easy weather - i gambole up to grassy ledge n' hoot n' holler at kendall n' kenny beset upon big ledge - i binge on beer n' butts while taking in the rare environs of the top of smooth dancer, singing n' swinging n' sailing away towards wondrous seas of my own design must have done 300 or so solo ascents yet today by accident sent down the biggest block ever - right at the split on the 4th class ramble up the true sou'east ridge i tended starboard - just below the big block overhang a right-big boulder tumbled out under my half-seen feet n' plunged down over the indian face, leaving me horror-struck at it's sudden and uncertain flight 11/3 n' 9 - days 38-9 - 2 straight solid scratches, the scorching flight, senses season-addled - the dim-dead light of the lying sky fading fast as i screech out, streaming out ribbons of bitter badness - the world is dying, my raison d'etre diminishing w/ each flagging day the rock a streaming slippery disaster - i treasure my skin too much to sally out either time, but i bound on down for a good look-see n' good-sense to sip down beer n' bid my time - today i figure why not set a base time for a bipedal ascent from the start of the sodden corner, walking much as i'd wander up by my hands, unconcerned w/ the clock, concentrating just on capturing the buzz - 20:20 to the top of uprising, 23:45 to the true corner railing, 28:00 to the summit - now if only a long stretch of dryness could set in so i could do some adventurous ambling comparisons...

the vast majority of the south side route of mt hood is not subject to any avy danger, no? starting around 9k you can get into dangerous zones, but everything below that is totally safe, yah?

thought he already did city park years ago, w/ his pop's pre-placing his gear for safety's sake?

hopefully all them tender tendons hold up

climbing the south side, then rapping the north side is kinda kewl

my wife says i can go if only i promise to bang every 2-bit whore upon the way

al gore invented the internet al gore is from the south everyone in the south is a redneck jackass therefore, redneck jackasses invented the internet

assuming you haven't marched around much on the mountain, even just hiking up a few thousand feet through challenging conditions (wind/snowing/deep snow) is plenty of adventure and pretty fun ('specially w/ the right medications on board) - it's hard to appreciate a summit you can't see anyway

climbing the s side of hood in potentially iffy weather is pretty safe, assuming you have good clothes, basic common sense, and (very importantly, especially if straying above the top of the miracle mile) a gps/altimeter and knowledge of how to use them when the weather's really shitty, it's pretty hard to screw up as you usually get demoralized before getting very high - if you're near the summit and the visibility goes away, you need to be able to not freak out and follow your gps/altimeter back down to the lift and the simple hand-line that takes you back to timberline

okay, w/ that bitch'n quote, i can now say, in good conscience: "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 can achieve glory before death when a warrior is gone that will be his best and only bulwark"

well, part of it involves getting clocked in the head by a main-sail yard about as hard as a human bean can get hit w/o dying forth-with, so frankly i'm having a bit of a hard-time trying to recollect any of the details - gotta give it a few days and see what can emerge from the grey-fog

kee-rist, can any form of climbing in the valley be easy?

can you be from virginia and not be a redneck? i do at least take the dishes out of the sink before i piss in it...

just did an ocean adventure and was wondering if the cascade climber overlords would look down on a write-up - reckon i've got less of an excuse not to now good to see yer still alive and drawing breath, ole boy - ain't much to choose between frozen cold fuck'n mountains n' sunny n' warm water, eh?

i'm currently occupying The One and Only True Party Ledge (exact location redacted) - nobody seems to have noticed

are land-mines less dangerous on skis?

the word "snugtop" alone makes me feel kinda happy

best thing for him, his therapy was going nowhere

tradition?

sounds like a great game - redact the names n' see if we can't guess'em?

too true - who would'va thought vitriol could lose and lameness hold sway over earth and salt-spray?