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j_b

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Everything posted by j_b

  1. j_b

    Mystery Photo

    allright apparently it did not upload the first time! I still wanted to put it up because I suspect some of you will drool over it.
  2. j_b

    Mystery Photo

    man did you sew up that 5.9.corner or what!
  3. j_b

    Mystery Photo

    how did you guess so quickly well at least some of you can download the thing (I can't)
  4. j_b

    Mystery Photo

    some of these are really obscure I'll put up an easy one
  5. I am with you all the way GtG. Krakauer did a great job of bringing forward issues pertaining to climbing big peaks. You'd think that people would support their claim he is a lier if they are going to condemn him in public. Anyhow I don't think the differences in the versions of what happened change his fundamental insights.
  6. I can't think of a better way to wait for good conditions
  7. j_b

    3 Top Routes?

    on the subject of Maryjane dihedral: i have done the route several times and found that doing Carla's traverse after the crux pitch is much cleaner than going straight up. The traverse is quite fun and ends at the semi-hanging belay on orbit.
  8. if you are a mere mortal, skiing funky snow in climbing boots is just not as much fun. If your intent is also to catch some turns perhaps you should consider josh's suggestion. on the funny and scary side, once after planting my tips I lunged forward and my liners came out of my shells (koflack I think). After that I always made sure they were laced very tight.
  9. arctic grail: the entire history of the search for the Northwest passage. a thick, well-researched book barren ground: early overland expeditions to the mouth of the Mackenzie river (british and american) to discover the Northwest passage, pretty grim exploration hoaxes: short stories about expeditions all over the world (cook at Denali, Peary and the north pole, the source of hte nile, adams on the colorado). well written and quite enjoyable.
  10. Name is familiar, was he on one of Scott's expeditions? Mawson was an Australian geologist who went to explore for the motherland and came back . But you are supposed to save that book for a long trip to a cold, kinda depressing place ... off the top of my head among other exploration books I liked: the arctic grail by pierre berton, the barren ground by mowatt(i think), great exploration hoaxes by dave roberts.
  11. I don't think so, I am neither ruining it for everyone not riding a machine within a couple miles radius, nor is my impact on the environment even comparable. This is not the Kmart of the outdoors where everyone is free to consume as much as they want according to their desire to spend. well I beg to differ on this too. Sorry to be narrow minded and all, but Yamaha has the same interests as orv'ers which is to open as much land as is possible to their activities, and with as little restrictions as possible. just an example: http://www.kettlerange.org/orvreport/ExecSummary.htm And it appears that REI is the good side of the fence most of the time w.r.t. caring for the environment so I am not too bothered with the thought that their interests may be in line with mine.
  12. If one agrees that Zappa would not have been too successful w/o the youth movement of the 60's and 70's, it seems only fair to think he'd be interested in furthering the spirit that made the youth of the time like him: the irreverence toward institutions, etc ...
  13. and besides not paying fees what are the interests that will make us overlook our fundamentally opposite approach to the outdoors? orv users don't have much more clout than that afforded by riding machines with famous brand names, and the interest of these industries to sell as many of these machines as possible. I am personally not interested in selling my soul to the devil even if it means losing the fee battle, as a matter of fact I'd rather pay the fees than have to deal with more machines and their impact in the outdoors.
  14. don't get me wrong, I always liked his music and I own many of his albums. But he always struck me as a cynical bastard that clearly did not contribute much to further the youth movement that he rode on.
  15. so hippies would be stupid to have identified with the ideals of Donovan, Joplin and Hendrix but we'd be smart to heed Zappa's words? Is he some kind of bastion of thoughts in the western world or something? I did not think so. You are going to make a grumpy old fart some day.
  16. The Ballad of the Ice-Worm Cocktail by Robert W. Service To Dawson Town came Percy Brown from London on the Thames. A pane of glass was in his eye, and stockings on his sterns. Upon the shoulder of his coat a leather pad he wore, To rest his deadly rifle when it wasn't seeking gore; The which it must have often been, for Major Percy Brown, According to his story was a hunter of renown, Who in the Murrumbidgee wilds had stalked the kangaroo And killed the cassowary on the plains of Timbuctoo. And now the Arctic fox he meant to follow to its lair, And it was also his intent to beard the Artic hare... Which facts concerning Major Brown I merely tell because I fain would have you know him for the Nimrod that he was. Now Skipper Grey and Deacon White were sitting in the shack, And sampling of the whisky that pertained to Sheriff Black. Said Skipper Grey: "I want to say a word about this Brown: The piker's sticking out his chest as if he owned the town." Said Sheriff Black: "he has no lack of frigorated cheek; He called himself a Sourdough when he'd just been here a week." Said Deacon White: "Methinks you're right, and so I have a plan By which I hope to prove to-night the mettle of the man. Just meet me where the hooch-bird sings, and though our ways be rude We'll make a proper Sourdough of this Piccadilly dude." Within the Malamute Saloon were gathered all the gang; The fun was fast and furious, and the loud hooch-bird sang. In fact the night's hilarity had almost reached its crown, When into its storm-centre breezed the gallant Major Brown. And at the apparation, whith its glass eye and plus-fours, From fifty alcoholic throats responded fifty roars. With shouts of stark amazement and with whoops of sheer delight, They surged around the stranger, but the first was Deacon White. "We welcome you," he cried aloud, "to this the Great White Land. The Artic Brotherhood is proud to grip you by the hand. Yea, sportsman of the bull-dog breed, from trails of far away, To Yukoners this is indeed a memorable day. Our jubilation to express, vocabularies fail... Boys, hail the Great Cheechako!" And the boys responded: "Hail!" "And now," continued Deacon White to blushing Major Brown, "Behold assembled the eelight and cream of Dawson Town, And one ambition fills their hearts and makes their bosoms glow - They want to make you, honoured sir, a bony feed Sourdough. The same, some say, is one who's seen the Yukon ice go out, But most profound authorities the definition doubt, And to the genial notion of this meeting, Major Brown, A Sourdough is a guy who drinks ... an ice-worm cocktail down." "By Gad!" responded Major Brown, "that's ripping, don't you know. I've always felt I'd like to be a certified Sourdough. And though I haven't any doubt your Winter's awf'ly nice, Mayfair, I fear, may miss me ere the break-up of your ice. Yet (pray excuse my ignorance of matters such as these) A cocktail I can understand - but what's an ice-worm, please?" Said Deacon White: "It is not strange that you should fail to know, Since ice-worms are peculiar to the Mountain of Blue Snow. Within the Polar rim it rears, a solitary peak, And in the smoke of early Spring (a spectacle unique) Like flame it leaps upon the sight and thrills you through and through, For though its cone is piercing white, its base is blazing blue. Yet all is clear as you draw near - for coyley peering out Are hosts and hosts of tiny worms, each indigo of snout. And as no nourishment they find, to keep themselves alive They masticate each other's tails, till just the Tough survive. Yet on this stern and Spartan fare so-rapidly they grow, That some attain six inches by the melting of the snow. Then when the tundra glows to green and * heads appear, They burrow down and are not seen until another year." "A toughish yarn," laughed Major Brown, "as well you may admit. I'd like to see this little beast before I swallow it." "'Tis easy done," said Deacon White, "Ho! Barman, haste and bring Us forth some pickled ice-worms of the vintage of last Spring." But sadly still was Barman Bill, then sighed as one bereft: "There's been a run on cocktails, Boss; there ain't an ice-worm left. Yet wait . . . By gosh! it seems to me that some of extra size Were picked and put away to show the scientific guys." Then deeply in a drawer he sought, and there he found a jar, The which with due and proper pride he put upon the bar; And in it, wreathed in queasy rings, or rolled into a ball, A score of grey and greasy things, were drowned in alcohol. Their bellies were a bilious blue, their eyes a bulbous red; Their back were grey, and gross were they, and hideous of head. And when with gusto and a fork the barman speared one out, It must have gone four inches from its tail-tip to its snout. Cried Deacon White with deep delight: "Say, isn't that a beaut?" "I think it is," sniffed Major Brown, "a most disgustin' brute. Its very sight gives me the pip. I'll bet my bally hat, You're only spoofin' me, old chap. You'll never swallow that." "The hell I won't!" said Deacon White. "Hey! Bill, that fellows fine. Fix up four ice-worm cocktails, and just put that wop in mine." So Barman Bill got busy, and with sacerdotal air His art's supreme achievement he proceeded to prepare. His silver cups, like sickle moon, went waving to and fro, And four celestial cocktails soon were shining in a row. And in the starry depths of each, artistically piled, A fat and juicy ice-worm raised its mottled mug and smiled. Then closer pressed the peering crown, suspended was the fun, As Skipper Grey in courteous way said: "Stranger, please take one." But with a gesture of disgust the Major shook his head. "You can't bluff me. You'll never drink that gastly thing," he said. "You'll see all right," said Deacon White, and held his cocktail high, Till its ice-worm seemed to wiggle, and to wink a wicked eye. Then Skipper Grey and Sheriff Black each lifted up a glass, While through the tense and quiet crown a tremor seemed to pass. "Drink, Stranger, drink," boomed Deacon White. "proclaim you're of the best, A doughty Sourdough who has passed the Ice-worm Cocktail Test." And at these words, with all eyes fixed on gaping Major Brown, Like a libation to the gods, each dashed his cocktail down. The Major gasped with horror as the trio smacked their lips. He twiddled at his eye-glass with unsteady finger-tips. Into his starry cocktail with a look of woe he peered, And its ice-worm, to his thinking, mosy incontinently leered. Yet on him were a hundred eyes, though no one spoke aloud, For hushed with expectation was the waiting, watching crowd. The Major's fumbling hand went forth - the gang prepared to cheer; The Major's falt'ring hand went back, the mob prepared to jeer, The Major gripped his gleaming galss and laid it to his lips, And as despairfully he took some nauseated sips, From out its coil of crapulence the ice-worm raised its head, Its muzzle was a murky blue, its eyes a ruby red. And then a roughneck bellowed fourth: "This stiff comes here and struts, As if he bought the blasted North - jest let him show his guts." And with a roar the mob proclaimed: "Cheechako, Major Brown, Reveal that you're of Sourdough stuff, and drink your cocktail down." The Major took another look, then quickly closed his eyes, For even as he raised his glass he felt his gorge arise. Aye, even though his sight was sealed, in fancy he could see That grey and greasy thing that reared and sneered in mockery. Yet roung him ringed the callous crowd - and how they seemed to gloat! It must be done . . . He swallowed hard . . . The brute was at his throat. He choked. . . he gulped . . . Thank God! at last he'd got the horror down. The from the crown went up a roar: "Hooray for Sourdough Brown!" With shouts they raised him shoulder high, and gave a rousing cheer, But though they praised him to the sky the Major did not hear. Amid their demonstrative glee delight he seemed to lack; Indeed it almost seemed that he - was "keeping something back." A clammy sweat was on his brow, and pallid as a sheet: "I feel I must be going now," he'd plaintively repeat. Aye, though with drinks and smokes galore, they tempted him to stay, With sudden bolt he gained the door, and made his get-away. And ere next night his story was the talk of Dawson Town, But gone and reft of glory was the wrathful Major Brown; For that ice-worm (so they told him) of such formidable size Was - a stick of stained spaghetti with two red ink spots for eyes.
  17. from the sound of the polls there must lots of hippies around ... Anyhow this the same tired bullshit about how anyone who disagree with warmongers must be a "stupid hippie". Do you care to actually substantiate your arguments? you can ridicule war opponents as much as you want but personally I find it significant that nothing, including the death of hundreds of thousands of people over the past decade, will make you pause and ponder motives. have you signed up yet?
  18. don't feel under any obligation to discuss the substance of mine. We have no interest in common with user groups that advocate the use of motor vehicles in nature for the sake of using them. Anyhow as pointed out by Gregm, the orv'ers want the fees because it validates their activities.
  19. don't be so smug. Before you can ask that question, you should have to answer why inspections stopped in the first place and why should they have restarted. Don't forget you guys still have to provide evidence for rearmaments and immediate danger. Pretending that anyone is going to cooperate willingly while we have been bombing them for the past decade is either sheer lunacy or hypocrisy.
  20. this must be a troll. I am not proud of the gas I burn on my way to somewhere but at least I don't burn gas for the sake of driving around. And I won't discuss damage to fauna and flora that ensues from the use of motorized vehicles. Whenever the use of vehicles to get to a trailhead becomes a problem, then we can discuss that too.
  21. personally I don't treat water above the snowline and I carry a little water from the car to take me there. If I stay below the snowline I treat it but I never carry the filter.
  22. I think we have different definitions of 'care' and 'environment'. Anyone who advocates the systematic burning of gas in an engine for recreation in the outdoors should reassess their understanding of these 2 words.
  23. j_b

    Friggin depressing

    Make snow not war oops, wrong thread ...
  24. http://www.thenation.com/doc.mhtml?i=20030210&s=alterman
  25. yeah Minx. Like the rest of us, you are just too dumb to decide when you are being lied to. "I get to decide that"
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