ivan

whaaaa? you say all the pbr and turned aroudn?!? i alwasy figured excessive alcohol consumption on the ledge was the whole reason that tree's been slung for rapping there, so you at least have a chance of surviving the trip off the rock i don't throw rocks, just my own feces - i'm 1/18 colubus monkey and kevbone, leave the damn tree alone! didn't you read - it caught me! go tree! actually, i'm amazed it's still alive given the extent to which i pull, step, push and fall on it.

i believe he used the all important "conditions" word

ran into jim one time at the base on a tuesday or something - i had a skinny rope for rapping after soloing and he had nothing but shoes, so we decided to climb the corner w/ me leading everything w/ no gear except 2 slings - i seem to recall doing the slab pitch w/ the rope tied around my neck for giggles

i fell once at the crux on dods on a long lead starting from down below the off-widthy section - anyway, w/ rope stretch and the run-out i'd built up by trying to lie back the crux i ended up getting caught in the upper branches of that brushy tree before the rope even went tight!

how about this past spring when you, me n' ken went to do dod's - i did that big single pitch to the perch, where you aided the crux. ken and i had a sweet safety meeting, at the conclusion of which you skillfully talked me out of using my belay device, which i actually understand how to use, and instead gave me your gri-gri, which even under the sober-ist of conditions i'm too stupid to operate. "so, i like, don't have to hold the rope or anythign then?" i said. an hour and a half pack of cigarettes later, you decided to start freeing the last bit, whereupon my grey matter totally failed and i couldn't feed more than a foot of slack a minute to you, ken howling w/ laugher and berating me the whole time - folks, dan's gotta be the sweetest guy alive - i don't think he called me a mother-fucker even once as i tried to drag him back down to his doom

the post-script is of-course that i fell in love w/ the idea of soloing that route that night, and for years now i've enjoyed being that mysterious stranger, dozens of times passing newbies cluster-fucking their way up the same classic pitch. i'm like a fucking buddhist or something!?

my second trip mighta been the first time i met pink - so, it turns out, todd remembered he had actually been to beacon before - so we decide to go do the se corner (i'd bought olson's guide in the meantime). i lead the first pitch. todd get's the fun slab pitch. an hour into his first lead, i can't see him, but he's not moving. a dude comes soloing up and over. mildly freaked, i nod and say who know's what - i'd never seen someone engaging in such tomfoolerly before, and it seemed an awfully scarey place for it. anyhow, 40 minutes later, todd still hasn't moved more than a few feet, evening's ending, and i'm definelty concerned, but every time i shriek up at him, i get no response. "jesus christ, why did i have to quit smoking cigarettes?" i idly wonder. then, out of nowhere, the SAME mysterious soloist comes up from the bottom againg. "WTF?" i ask him "what in the hell is going on w/ my boy up there?" "man, i don't know, he looks like maybe he's not having such a good time." we rapped off from grassy ledges that night in the dark. and that was, i think, the last time i climbed w/ sketchy todd at beacon

ok - so, my first trip to beacon, i went w/ sketchy todd (don't worry if you're reading out there, todd, i mean your moniker w/ much love) - he said he'd been to beacon b4 and i was fresh off the plane having just moved west - from the p-lot, the first thing i see is the north side of the rock, all dank and dark and shitacular - "dude, is THAT it? i thought this place was dope?" "yeah, that's it, let's go get it" - after he flailed on the first pitch of nasty mank, i took over and got us a rope length off the ground, climbing past his high-point, pasted in blood - the next pitch was even worse, and after watching him agonize over it, i didn't even offer to try to do it - carpets of 12 inch deep moss over smooth slabs w/ nothing but blank looking wall above - wtf? - so we rapped, basically strait down to the water-pump. he went first, and called "off" at a slight ledge w/ nothign but an old pin, only half beaten in to rap off next. i had done very little alpine at this point, and it looked stupid-sketch to rap on just that tiny piece of shit, but before i knew it or had the sense to think of trying to back it up, todd was off. as i watched, the pin his whole life was depending on slowly bent in half. i screamed "you're gonna fucking die!!!" and envisoned a night of watching the road and shivering, staring at his corpse. he managed to live though, and i miracled in a whole constellation of back-up nuts and got down to the ground safely wondering "what in the plu-perfect fuck is this place all about?!?" little did i know i had one more epic climb w/ sketchy-todd to go! now that was my intro to the big B

this one time, at band camp... i gotta cogitate on this one...

i forgot to mention my secret weapon - taking naps on the couch while watching "the eiger sanction" on endless repeat!

i might be able to get him, though not being a portlander i don't have a good sense of where he is in relation to da bar - i might be a hair late anyhow what w/ having to get kids ready for bed n' all - if'n bill could get 'em that would likely give him more hang-out time? let's figure it out by tuesday?

maybe some day i'll move back to ireland if my dear wife would only pass away she's got me heart nearly broken w/ her naggin she's got a mouth as big as galway bay see her drinking 16 pints of pabst blue ribbon (commercial!) and then she walks home w/o a sway if the sea was beer instead of salty water she'd live and die in galway bay!

another thing i remembered - in the months leading up to denali every 2 weeks or so i'd climb hood via the dog-route at night - get off work, get a phatty-dinner while driving up to t-line, take a quick nap in the parking lot, then do the slog, get back down, take another power-nap, then drive to work. pink's right, getting motivated to get after it in inclement conditions/darkness is a big part of the training thang. a few months out i'd recommend doing 2 a day workouts too, 'fore work and after. don't know how poor you are - i couldn't afford then or now much in the way of big gym or special class fees - running n' hiking n' climbing are pretty damn good training for running n' hiking n' climbing though...

fighting irish? a bit redundant, no?

you mean da governmint doesn't always arrest evil doers?!?

and what i mean by this is, everyone go up there and beat in the track and put in all the tool placements for me so i can skip work n' solo it monday night!

sure, the n face might be in like flynn, but this weekend's my little girl n' dear wife's b-days, so i've got better things to do b/c i, after much mediation and soul-searching, have straitened my priorities

no way i'm sharing my camels or my sammy!

on the plus side, this recent rain/snow event oughta have put in the n face gullies after all those tr's saying it wasn't set up yet

and to keep the bulk up, a mandatory 40 oz of da blue bull upon passing through the ledge on each lap

running on a treadmill ain't so bad - just smoke a huge blunt first, then listen to an entire hendrix album while you haul ass - you get extra pts for air-guitaring through the entirety of "voodoo child" sublime and other assorted ear-candy help the miles melt away bottom line, doing an hour of intense cardio a day quickly gets you in whatever cardio shape you gotta be - big mountains like kili, denali, etc ain't that tough anyhow - mostly a lotta glorified hiking w/ plenty of time for sitting around camp sucking down ho-hos and smoking your toilet paper

you might still be able to go the back way from hood river though, no? take a right off 35 going south in whatever the hell that last little town is?

2 weeks later, only 1 memory of this climb remains for me - the 8 pound thanksgiving sandwhich i hauled up to illumination for me dinner (a whole loaf of french bread w/ alternating layers of turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy - christ, i'm drooling just thinking on it!), plus the bottle of merlot and exactly 3 smokes i brought along to chase it down to my mind, that is precisely the difference between alpinism and mountaineering, and gawddamn, mountaineering has it's place!