ivan

anything to make the approach to the golden arch less brushy

you'd dig it the most, steve - you should drag the plaidman up there for a look-see

it is always better to avenge dears ones than to indulge in mourning

a light-weight copy of "moby dick" seems the 11th essential for any trip into the picketts

goddamn world refuses to stand still...

tvash and i did the dog route on cathedral sans rope and it wasn't anything too crazy - there's a really neat part where you enter into a subterreanan cathedral (i suppose this is what inspired the name), complete w/ viewpoint out into the face, then later crawl out of the top of it onto the summit - i remember the annoying scree hill to the top took 3 minutes of delightful boot skiing to reverse too hitting the summit of amphitheatre via numerous tiers of easy bouldering just across from cathedral was a romp too.

did the canada approach meself, but i reckon w/ them mules you can pack in a lot more booze

definitely priced to move

seems awd to have a "top awesome" list for index w/o the green drag-on or the town crier

holy shit, it's the 10th anniversary of my ascent http://cascadeclimbers.com/forum/ubbthreads.php?ubb=showflat&Number=484182 my uber-helpful picture of doug's direct

Don't you mean the obligatory shot of Ivan in a drunken coma underneath a boulder? kinda hard to top this one it was actually a magical evening spent in the meadow that night - full moon, not a soul on the wall it seemed - my camera way to shitty to capture the occasion, my cockney tales doubly so- many beers n' a decent dinner - i recall big ben got to drive us to el portal from there

love that route - doug's d ain't so tough, other than the awful grind way back up hill in the full heat of the afternoon - go up the heather tongue to the top of the ridge, then stay on the easiest rock you can find the whole way down

thought it might be the rescue folks - happy to return it of course if'n they want to make themselves known.

all my favorite poems begin "there once was a man from nantucket..."

Trip: El Cap - The Nose Abides (AKA Third Times the Charm) Date: 7/1/2015 Trip Report: been 6 years since i first fucked w/ the nose - the savage beat-down at the hands of a heat-wave was enough to take it off my radar a bit - shit, who am i kidding? i'm the shittiest goddamn rock-climber i know, mayhap its time to take up golf? anyhow, that didn't' keep me from going back the next summer n' failing for a variety of other reasons - a fascinating trip, over in 72 hrs it seemed, my main memory the belated realization i'd teamed up w/ a recently recovered heroin-addict roiling w/ inner tension - good fella really, as near as i could reckon it when he rose to the occasion and spoke, but not quite what the route required - i particularly enjoy the memory of the 2 of us chain-smoking the entire ride back, windows down the whole way - never did hear how his tale turned out, but i wish him well... as the years rolled by i managed to make it up el cap a few times by other routes, and some other valley classics to boot, n' when my boy beacon-ben said we should take on the nose a year ago i figured why not give the fat man another chance at fame? ben'd done the nose i few times in the past and i dig him as a road partner too - no 730 a.m. orations on my filthy habits when nursing a camel n' a pbr, no occasionally tender temperament to be wary of, no ability to offend or annoy at all really and how could any human be? old ben's as mild as milk and merry-sober, a shocking display of power, someone should take the bastard apart and suss out what makes him tick - you just need some patience when he's gotta poop, and be prepared to cook him all his meals as some way he busted into the 21st century w/o learning how to boil water we hit the valley like crusading clowns after a high-velocity passage from the outer rings of pluto, rocking led zeppellin the whole way i recollect, n' began acclimatizing ourselves to cruel california - for me that means immersing meself in the merced like a fucking crocodile for a couple days, guzzling equal bits of gatorade n' burgundy, n' burning down the 49 cent burritos by camp iv - ben had family down for the first week n' we intersected w/ them now n' again, suppering at black widow kitchen as i called it, where the stone walls by the road-way were riddled with spiders - gray camping up at crane flats - flinging the flying ring round el cap meadow n' contemplating the crucible to come - for me the valley demands taking it slow, and man have i have sussed out how to do that in style we settled on an unorthodox strategy that still got nods of approval from the old guard by the bridge - tom evans evidently in a bit of a tizzy over piton pete plugging up the nasal pathway by the real nose team - el cap tower taken over by a band of multi-national ninjas - he gave us good advice on conquering the king swing n' a took the chance to rub alex honnold's van for victory-luck we planned to take 2 days fix up to the base of the stovelegs so we'd have mostly a straight shot up, hauling-wise, then a rest-day and launch - takes 5 ropes to do it n' a buncha jugging, but shit, fat-man can find his way round a jumarn' his joint has bits n' scraps of ropes with vintages based in the clinton era strange days those - early up n' at'ems - college kids n' bavarians - confused plans getting cocked-up more by hordes of heathens making their own el cap attempts - eventually though the bags were high up off the ground and i was in high spirits for the adventure ahead - we dined in el cap meadow that night in kingly-style, done in ever so slightly by a stranger's take on the long term weather forecast, which sent big ben into a tail spin that was ultimately tackled via telephone by the plaidman of all people on the day of days we departed in the early dawn, and ben was up off the first stove-leg pitch while the shadows were still long seemed like we were making okay time, but the awful sun scorched down upon us, and i suffered up my 2 pitches to dolt tower, throwing meself n' me weary back down on the ledge as soon as the haul was done - i roused out a can of mandarin oranges n' made orgasmic mouth-sex to the juice as ben waxed enthusiastic about the way left to go the sun had keeled over far enough to the west to kiss us with cool, n' while i sucked down gatorade n' camels, ben got tot he serious business of getting us to camp on el cap tower good times lowering off dolt tower as ben'd run the two pitches together leaaving me little slack - only half way down the lower out i was out of cord and had to cast off, rocketing up to interstate speeds it seemed by the time i fetched up on the wall, back first, bitter n' howling it was dark by the time i'd gotten up to ben just below el cap tower, and blissfully he was cheerful to take the lead up to camp, where we arrived in total darkness to the reality of sharing this famous ledge w/ a fuck-ton of baggage left by pete n' company, all seriously reeking of human refuse in the hot california evening - no matter - this sidewalk in the sky was my refuge, and i slept blissfully there like a babe at the bosom by 7 a.m. the next morning the sun was back like an angry land-lord on the second of the month, n' seeing his meanness we took the quickest way up to the top of the boot-flake evan's advice on the king swing was quite right - lower past the boot to a band of rock easily seen from the ground but not so much once up there, take a few momentum building swings than commit like a coward come round to conviction - find the thin fins all nice n' powdered at the highest point in the possible arc, than heel-hook around on an orange bit of rusty rock - do the whole thing w/o a stich of gear or the tag-line, then send it on down the climbing line once safe on eagle ledge - from there it's just the simple pleasure of aiding up 70 feet, not leaving a single piece of gear between you n' the awfulness of sir isaac newton ben had the next pitch, n' paused to tank up for heading out it was a bitter pitch for us both, broiling in the brilliance of the big bomb in the sky - by the time i was seconding i was baked out, having just broken my belay seat for the second time in as many el cap trips w/ ben, guess we're just too big boys - i got meself tangled in the real nose team's fixed line n' therefore fucked up my lower out, having then to endure mind-boggling bullshit to reverse it and get it right the long and short of it was we hit camp iv just minutes before darkness, alarmed to see that the appellation of "camp iv" is really bullshit - i made a mantra of "camp iv is neither" in the days ahead and was pleased in hindsight to realize this was my lowest point - for that night we slept w/o pads, shoe-on, piled on top of each other, waiting for the night to pass so we could continue on in the morning, minding my meager water-intake n' gazing at the great roof just ahead ben really dug his first pithc that morning, up under the great roof i got all the prime aid-shenanigan pitches, and naturally that included the great roof, riddled w/ fixed gear and therefore good fun a thunderstorm hit as i emerged from under the roof, but i was pleased to deal w/ that rather than heat - this was my best day, and ben quickly gamboled on up the pancake flake as i exchanged pleasantries w/ piton-pete n' company as they rapped down their immense fixed line, rightly smiling having just finished thier a5 conquest after week's of effort n' singing home-made songs all happy grappling w/ awkward aid and the promise of hitting a camp while light's left in the sky camp v was just what i needed - plenty of flat space for one man to lie down - a view baffling to the mind but in a good way, and wonder of wonders, a free can of modesto, spoiling what would have been my longest period of being alcohol-free in the better part of a decade i didn't know it then and am glad it was so as it woulda ruined my good mood - ben went up to the 1-man ledge just above me and complained of a giant suspected shit streak - i discovered later this was the gory remnants of a fellow who'd fallen to his death unto this ledge just weeks earlier - the blood-trail is clearly evidident between the two ropes - at the time i joked ben was lying down in diarrhea stains - it woulda made for a less tranquil time that evening if i'd known the truth the morning dawned cool and over-cast-ish - we were very low on water and i wished very much to be on top by that night i came up past the curious stain and set out on the pitch up to the glowering spot, which i found another inappropriate sobriquet - shit, such a sweet belay spot, i damn near took a nap as ben moved on up now we were at camp 6 n' seeming to have a prayer at seeing this thing through i set off up the changing corners and had a look back changing corners a true classic, though the final bit broke me a smidge - the sudden appearance of thin aiding after so much easy ground, combined w/ the ugly corner the rope cuts around as you inch up micro-brassies, it made sad-clown comments course through my mind in equal parts with heathen prayers to pagan dogs as ben moved up the next pitch, just 2 more to go afterwards, i first became aware of the world-famous hans florin flashing up towards us like a v2 on fucking fire early evening was upon us, and as hans and client clearly needed to cruise past us, we conconcted a good story about how groovy it would be if he just towed our line up the next pitch as we stood aside to let him pass nice feller really, his buddy too... me jugging up to the wild stance, summit-fever full upon me, ben beaming the hours that followed i'd rather forget, and god-bless the bitter poisons i've consumed twixt now and then that have rendered it so - couldn't haul until the anchor was clear, and then it was an awkward one - by the time ben was up darkness was moments away - the bolt ladder somehow ended up being not so easy as you'd think, and the confusion attached w/ hauling up past it ultimatly found us not emerging onto the summit until well past mid-night, me totally broken in spirit, feet reeking of zombie-stench, virtually out of water, and caring about nothing more than sleep so be it - we were on top and i'd finished my third el cap route - i threw meself down by the famous tree and slept blissfully in a cool breeze mornign came n' we crapped on flat ground n' got all the shit we'd cast off in every direction in darkness in good order - the plan was to cruise by the top of zodiac and find water as we had only a cup each - baring that, we hoped horsetail creek would have the goods, n' we could get down the east ledges without feeling like denizens of the desert ultimately we found ourselves in a sweet little cave above the creek, sucking in shade and stagnant water treated w/ pills that take great care to proclaim their worthlessness we were in no hurry w/ plenty of food since i couldn't hardly eat anythign the whole clibm since i didn't have the water to chase it down - we settled in for a long stay, intending to descend the east ledges in the afternoon shade rumblings of thunder and rumors of war ultimately got us back on our feet and heading down wylde dyke the east ledges fast enough, the final walk particularity more pleasant now that i knew what to expect - the crushing final walk will end soon, just smile n' day-dream of wine n' flip-flops we had a few days before ben had to leave and we spent them as best we could - a rest day was needed of course, and we still had to recover 4 fixed ropes from the wall the next day had 2 amazing thunderstorms and i wrecked my good karma by running threw a huge puddle by a poor family at 88 mph n' cackling like a fool to ben's uncomprehending horror - i wish i was a better person, but i also have to face facts... we had just time enough to climb the nutcracker and the east buttress of middle cathedral then it was phase 1 complete - ben dumped at the airport n' soon therefter i'd fetched my lawyer in oakland fresh off his sub-sonic transport and we boomed back into the valley thought he'd like leaning tower - he did too - for his sins he was granted his wish had a good bit of poetry to conclude this little tale but the good servers on cc.com somehow just took a giant shit on my and i havne't the heart to begin the battery again - i'll settle for a simple conclusion as its 45 minutes till the family arrives at pdx and depends upon me to port them back off

Trip: Tower Rock - FA - Rapunzel's Back in Rehab - C1 Date: 7/15/2015 Trip Report: The Beast - don't be fooled, them thare are full-grown trees Tower Rock, 2 hours from everywhere, appears oddly neglected - Brown Beckey's got the tiniest blurb of the single route up it done in 1982 (anyone know of a second ascent? i can't find anyone who's tried it) but no picture n' no topo - tim olson's oregon rock guide has some more detail than beckey, but still the vast monolith appears to have continued unloved tower's just south of randle, an unladen swallow's flight from the cispus river - the face is gigantic,something like 1200 feet tall - the rock is basaltic, according to beckey, but like nothing i've seen - like over-baked brownies, it's composed of a hodge-podge of components - incredibly solid and compact, it's cross-hatched in all directions, crackless, and crumbles into bricks and blocks of all conceivable sizes - the tower looms over it's talus field, fiercely steep, it's upper-wall reminiscent of the right side of el cap, incredibly bulging and over-hanging tower is composed of two giant faces seperated by a ledge/fault system that was the path taken by the first team to climb the face - currently, after 7 days of effort, our route climbs the lower wall - it'll be just as much work to finish the upper wall, if the rock quality holds as it currently exists yeah, there's a lot more to go, but as it stands, what's there is 600 feet tall and a great day-tripper's aid adventure already - i figure the worst that can come of telling folks about this now before it's complete is that some other sad fools can go do it for me trip the first: fuck, this happened so long off i wonder if my recollection's right at all - me n' bill n' ben in the late winter - a burr up their bespectacled asses about a mythical 10-pitch free route up a largely untouched tower - the plan to hike to the top then set a rap-line down the likely route - out of town on a friday night to the frightful fall of rain - ghetto camp before the gate in gales of damnable damp - the roar of frogs - the next morning the most sordid thang - endless hours uphill w/ drill n' bolts n' chains in the continuous cloud-fuck n' frenzied chilly breeze - near the summit gob-smacked to gain a blazed trail barely a mile from a seasonal road - the top a huge disappointment, it characterized by clouds and beaming rainbows and rock so rude they rarely accoladed the attribution - soon there after the weekend righteously concluded and me around for the sweet family on the sabbath trip the second: on the reconnaissance earlier, dejected at finding a kitty-litter summit, we'd paused after a tortuous overladen descent on the boulder field and pondered on future options - a man w/ an aid-climber's conscious could do a take on "infinite bliss" and find a bitching way up the crazy big blank face - it was sure to take a mort of mortal work, but bill n' geoff are true gentlemen all measured and solid for this kinda goofy shit - we banged up from p-town on a friday night and made camp up at the turn around on the forest road - stumble-fucking up the forest we arrived amazed and ready to ramble on - many mozzies n' deer flies this damned trip - pitch 1 went quickly between geoff and bill, the later bounding up free on low-angle stacked mossy talus to make an anchor atop tier 1 - me i got tier 2 - all bolts at first until i no longer feared the ledge, then lotza 2-hook moves in a row until reaching the top of the tier where i left a fixed hook to protect a low-angle romp to the second anchor - we retired to camp n' soggy fires n' fulsome screeching music - day 2 we jugged to the top of p2 and bill and geoff got up a ways before yielding to me, whereupon i drilled n' hooked to a high point we marked w/ red tat before descending and returning to our troubled and lonely little lives - i recollect getting a true n' glorious drunk on in the passenger seat n' slumbering back to vantucky geoff putting up the first pitch on the scrubby, compact low-angle first tier the artist as a young asshole ascending the second steeper tier geoff workign on pitch 3, the first steps onto the very steep lower wall trip the third: lovely ospreys n' robins round the lake - pete n' pam play camp hosts - camp weddings n' nightly fishing sheenaningans - muskrats n' pond-skimming swallows - bastard mozzies n' mean biting flies, mostly in obeisance for the first couple cold days, but growing in malevolence as the weather waxed towards wicked hot - the sweet ne face of Tower almost totally shade-soaked for the mid-morning riser - kids n' retirees n' rv's n' jumping trout n' tame dogs - the listless routines of an aimless life - awake w/ the sun - fresh shits n' dewy breakfasts - a short but grim uphill grind through steep forest w/ plentiful windfall, shirt soaked through by the time we hit the sunny talus field at the base but soon blessed w/ shade - warm juggy work to start and then to the serious business - fear frenzies despite being armed w/ all the wonderful war machines of modern man - a long time of terror n' toil - the day dispatched, we make a rapid descent, each time by a different winding way - beer n' stripping soaked clothes off at the mercifully close car - me auolde yosemite food bin rummaged through for a desperate dinner, usually of beer n' tobacco n' pringles n' whatever benevolent bill threw my way - an hour or so of bird-watching n' binge-reading on maggie thatcher's frigid teeming fucking bush - to sleep at the post-gloaming in a grand 6-man tent alone, racked out on a queen sized inflatable air mattress, wrapped in down and dozy drunkenness - the night passed moaning to sore muscles as i twist n' turn until the dawn drags me to my addled senses, then it all runs off the reel much as it reckoned the day before... first several days of murmurings n' mumblings w/ just me n' bill (me a damn baby in comparison to my venerable and august elder - that baby weighing in at a mean 250 bare-nekkid pounds and a coward to boot of course) - bill a bastion of genteel sincerity that must sadly have bitch-left this world many generations ago - me strangely silent of song for days - my mind scrambled and saddened by the robust requirements of 6-weeks of family-left sorrows gone off in the valley - eventually songs to lift my times and shape my senses - "mining for gold" by the cowboy junkies running on an eternal loop in my mind - long after-shocks of "burn down the mission" caused by geoff for sure after 3 days of toil we grow weary and call in the cavalry - the silverman boys gonna come down n' save us from our misery - we make a rest day out of walking the mountain side w/ them, then retiring to the big boulder to pound pbr's n' provide Adult Supervision - they lounge around camp afterwards, contemplating on crashing the redneck wedding well under-way - we smoke bales of weed n' cackle n' cough n' find high times are treasure enough in this wicked world - eventually all good things must get on the bus w/ gandhi though and they roll off into the night in the hms revenge, ready i hope to return for more the last day done-off as surely as a band-aid - after a fearful arduous jug up the wild steep fixed lines ole bill baits the question ("good news or bad?" - which would you take?) - - dedication to a last day of determined work - 5 hours of bolting and hooking on endless steep traversing ground until i was gut-wrenched at what it was likely to take me to get get back to bill - epic amounts of gear left as i rapped into the void and quickly grew dependent on bill to reel me back in - the retreat then fully declared we rapped n' ruminated n' laid our plans like parchment paper, all of it ultimately putting us on sweet terra-firma w/ a fuck-load of gear to get off - surprised by bill's pronouncement of this day, i had no proper pack to cram all the crap into eventually we ambled on down the way, me overloaded like a gypsy carnival-whore w/ rope-bags aplenty such that i swooned on multiple occasions as the straps cut into me wind-pipe and i passed yards off unyielding to gratuitous thoughts, my mind in a true and lovely gray place - the last night spent in part w/ militant california-paul, such as exemplar of that shakespearean clap-trap about sounding of fuck-all and negative fury, yet yielding nothing our objective from the relative sanity of the rv park n' its teeming trout pond white-boys jugging the first 2 tiers - at this angle the lower wall takes up most of the entire frame, but the upper wall's just as big n' steeper 700 feet of ropes n' route-making machine just starting the second pitch bags of bolts n' drills n' bullshit - starting to install pitch 4 geoff at the top of p4, kyle jugging up to the mid-pt anchor closing thoughts: happy to share the discovery w/ the nw brethren - leave yer self-righteous bolting morals at home w/ yer bitches - the place went unloved for a reason - the only cracks evident are where awful rock-fall is just a geologic fart-in-a-stiff-wind away - if intending to push the route higher (what's there is plenty for a day-tripper), please let me or bill or geoff know so one of us can come along - perhaps a dozen separate lines could be pushed to the top in the same style, each likely to take weeks n' 1000$ to put in place - recon trip to the top found almost no real rock up there - at some point all lines must turn to awful kitty litter, but maybe it'll go anyhow? topo as it currently stands - hope to see this fucker get taller in the fullness of insensible time Gear Notes: - up to 30+ draws if clipping all bolts - 2 bathooks (talons can work, but they risk blowing out the drilled holes) - ideally 2 70 meter ropes, but 2 60'S can work if careful - cheater stick not bad idea, as many of the bolts were installed by a fear-fucked orangutan at his max reach - lower off tat or quick-links/biners for follower at traversing parts - helmets essential - much potential for rockfall of all sizes, especially if hauling or jugging - base area very dangerous in strong winds or if below climbers on first 2 approach pitches - upper pitches largely protected from natural rockfall (be careful up there ) Approach Notes: Exit 68 off i5 - east on 12 to randle (about an hour) - right (south) turn at randle (follow signs for tower rock RV park) - quick left about a mile south of randle, then another turn right about 6 miles later - rt turn at tower rock RV park/cispus learning center signs - left onto logging road (75?76?) just a 100 yards before rt turn to tower rock forest service camp (or straight for another mile to the RV park) - forest road is closed at gate near main road during winter/early spring - about 1 1/2 mile up road (stay on main road at split a 1/2 mile up) there's a turn around (about .25 mile past a steep switchback) - from there you can continue in car but there's no turnaround - walk or drive 1/4 mile to road-end - at wierd stone-forest-altar begin hiking up steep forrested slope - about 45 minutes to base - occasional game and human trails, generally trending right and up - copious windfall in middle section of trail - steeper for last 1/3 of trail - idea is to skirt talus field on right and join base from tree at right edge of wall - 1st bolt is just 5 feet off ground near clump of trees about 50 feet above a huge lounge-like boulder that is a great/safe observation spot descent: currently rapping from top of p5 to top of p4 is extra-ordinarly hard - in the future ideally there'll be a rap line straight down through p5 - for now be prepared to leave a fixed line to get back to the top of p4 and for the first rapper to have to haul the second back over - descending from the top of p4 requires 2 70 meter ropes or a stop at the mid-pt anchor (no rings) - the rap overhangs but you just barely touch the wall at the mid-pt anchor - use terrain to help you rap in the right direction

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

i thought "bone zone" was a far better name, though not b/c of you kev, but b/c of all the road-kill remains at the base

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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

blast, gonna miss you olde boi - show earlier and i'll help you w/ the beerz

the only solution is to bring no food

i know that dude - he's got a sweet mantra about managing death i do recall will be there around 5 a.m. fo'sho, if'n yer of the mind to say fuck sleep

i can look at that all day