Dr_Flash_Amazing

DFA actually hasn't done any serious bolting. Replaced a few back in the day with a homemade hand drill, but holes in basalt took anywhere from 45 minutes to an hour and a half. Bolters DFA has seen or known favored the Bosch Bulldog, a Ryobi gas-powered beast that sounded like a chainsaw, and some Hilti monster. You really ought to post this query on smithrock.com, as Ryan Lawson has got beaucoup drilling beta. He might even have his bolt-guns up for sale, as he had mentioned such a while back. Here's to more bolts everywhere!

Oh, come on. It didn't even take off his foot! Piece of shit chipper!

So the Doctor was right? But of course ...

What?! You gotta hike like an hour straight uphill to get to that shit! If it's further uphill than Toxic, the approach is too strenuous and it's out of the question.

Someone's gonna piss on Cobra Commander!

here ya go dfa, easy. Cosmos!

Sadly, no.

Damn it, would you twats post something with bolts in it? All this granite and cracks is hopeless.

If you can't get anyone to meet you at Tuffrox, you're welcome to stop off in PDX. Perhaps DFA and the Mrs. will be down at the PRG. We'll give you all the beta for the blue tape route.

See? A lad needs mentoring in order to master the finer points of traditional climbing as Yvon Chouinard intended it (or is he too new school?).

And who the hell is Sam?

DFA is just hoping Dwayner and Pope will notice so he can earn some much needed trad cred, and maybe get them to sponsor him with some old drilled-out hexes on 8-mil Perlon and perhaps some pointers on being more caustically cynical.

DFA's SO actually did get in trouble with some uppity feminist lady at work a while back when she made the grievously insensitive mistake of referring to women as "chicks." Hard to imagine why a woman would say something so patently offensive!

Hey, it's solid beta! Don't knock it, man! Except you're s'posed to highstep BEFORE you get all the way up to the thumb-catch. Gave dude the wrong sequence, but he should figure it out soon enough.

What? Trask is a sweet little lamb! He wouldn't hurt a fly!

Right you are, man!

"Things went OK up through the second move, but I apparently got off route at the 'obvious gaston', and wound up on some grievous sloping crimps with bad footholds instead of the easy pockets that led to the finishing jug and topout. Chalking up and taking stock of the situation, it was clear that the moves were irreversible, and I was already nearly 4' off the deck. Given the relatively short approach, we had foolishly left the bivy gear back at the trailhead, nearly two minutes away. Dammit! Requesting that my spotter take some weight, I attempted a perilous traverse involving an undercling and the dreaded "Egyptian", followed by a tenuous deadpoint. I thought I was in the clear when a foot slipped off one of the grievously un-brushed off-route footholds, and I went plummeting to the crashpads hundreds of centimetres below. I had sustained a scrape to the left forearm, and a slightly bruised heel, adding a sense of urgency to our already thoroughly urgent situation (a lesser man might have called it desperate, but I am not a lesser man). The full gravity of the situation soon set in, however, as I would not be able to carry a crash pad back to the trailhead with my bruised heel, and attempting to hoist the chalk pot was chafing my scraped arm. Luckily, my partner bravely offered to shoulder both pads AND the chalk, and gave me the last of his Red Bull for the near-hundred yard hike back to the car. Of course, we weren't out of the woods yet, as even if we could make it to the car, medical attention was a good five minute drive away, and I was worried that my mangled forearm might bleed enough to stain my new Prana shirt (a rather natty khaki and sky blue number from the new Spring line). We plodded on to the trailhead and our car, and somehow made it out, despite taking nearly three minutes instead of the usual sub-two. I eased into the passenger's seat, gingerly resting my bruised heels on my 900-fill down jacket, and fished my cell phone out of the glove box. Our late retreat from that hulking citadel back in the forest had prompted some concern on the part of my mother, who had called in a panic, mentioning that she had made my favorite Chef Boyardee ravioli, and had bought me a Vanilla Coke which was now getting warm even as my ravioli was getting cold. Shit and dammit! Things were getting perilous and blah blah blah ..."

Fuck is this s'posed to mean? That's some kind of veiled insult, isn't it? Just what are you implying here, bubba?

Good riddance to the worst sort of rubbish. Dude talked more shit about not caring whether he got banned or not. Well ... adios, puto.

CHUPACABRA!

3/12

Here, why don't you shut the fuck up, log off this board, and don't come back. Mmkay? Toodles!