billcoe

Dad doesn't look Black. Looks more Mexican/South American. Not that it matters, just wondering.

Is there a Squamish TR in the offing G?

Jim Yoder slideshow and book signing July 31st at 5pm which is corresponding to their "Sidewalk" Sale! August 1 & 2nd, 10-8pm. Festivities both days! Music, games, shoe demos and more! These folks deserve our support.

Jim Yoder slideshow and book signing July 31st starting at 5pm which is corresponding to their "Sidewalk" Sale! August 1 & 2nd, 10-8pm. Festivities both days! Music, games, shoe demos and more! These folks deserve our support.

Check again dude.

Glassbonghits is back! Glassbonghits is back! Glassbonghits is back! Stand back jack, there's gonna be some ass's kicked now!

I'd offer to belay you up it next time you go, but am afraid that I may have a wide load moment and get my wide ass permanently stuck somewhere up there. At least you'd have an excuse to untie and solo off:-)

Fark

Baby Hitler says: "Vere do you gets diss shisse?"

Whoa! That's rough stuff there. Nice rant though. I usually have the crap scared out of me when I'm just stepping out of my car and looking up at that rock before I even get out of the parking lot. I think they put that restroom right there for us climbers having these moments in fact! Son and I were out shooting yesterday, and were picking up some other jackasses brass and shells which they had left scattered all over the f*k along with a campfire ring which they somehow had considered a garbage dump as well. So they'd left cans, couple of beer bottles and other non-burnable shit all over right there figuring someone would pick up after them. Even the cigarette butts had been flicked towards the ring, but didn't make it in and were laying on the ground unburned. I figured it was a great thing for me to find this. It was a perfect chance to share a lesson to reinforce to my son something I think is important. 1) Don't leave your shit around on public land for others to pick up. 2) Pick up when someone forgets rule #1 and make the camp better than you find it. We got a better part of a 5 gallon bucket filled between our shells and the stuff we found there. Kid was feeling proud that we'd done a good deed after we'd cleaned all the weapons and then cleaned all the ground. I think had I wandered by a fresh one on SE Corner ledge though, I could put off rule #2 till it dried out, which fortunately shouldn't be long given the heat these days. Damn, must have been an embarrassing emergency for some poor soul.

When I was a kid, saying to another kid in a loud, taunting voice: "You got Cooties"...was considered a major slam. Repeating it 30 or 40 times was better of course. Yet I never really thought about what a "Cootie" was. This ignorance persisted throughout my childhood and followed me right into adulthood. But I don't want to talk about Cooties. I wanted to talk about Edna. I was asked to volunteer at the VA as I was getting discharged by a volunteer who was going into the hospital as I was getting out. Tom was an expert lapidary and he volunteered in the recreation therapy dept to teach other vets cutting and polishing gemstones. He'd been sitting on top of a track vehicle in nam when it hit a land mine and as they were blown up, the track rolled over his leg. He'd been dragging it along and was finally tiered of it as wanted it cut off. AS I was close to an expert in this, he asked me and I started doing what he was doing thinking he'd be back soon to take his old volunteer position back. Never saw him again. But I don't want to talk about Tom. So I'm working recreation therapy, lapidary mostly, and there was a group of elderly women, like in their 80's, who would at least weekly or more, come up and hang around. Mostly they made delicious cookies and cakes, and they'd bring them up to some appreciative vets, some of whom had been in for extended stays -the home cooking touches were really nice for them. The ladies would lay their wares out on a table, along with some fake grape drink, and give it away to anyone who wandered over, and visit if anyone felt like visiting. This was an "official" organization kind of thing though, they wore hats like Shriners and had pins, lapels, big signs and other markings proudly and loudly proclaiming themselves Cooties! The sign said they were a WW1 axillary ladies group. Cooties? One day, I'm musing over my ignorance of what a Cootie really was if these women were so proud to be it. So I sidle up to Edna. "Hi Edna", I say, "Can I ask you something?" Edna was a good looking woman of about 84 or so at the time. When I say"good-looking", I don't mean like a 20 year old model in a magazine, in fact, not sexy at all. Whatever the opposite of that is. I mean, she was frumpy, round, sagged in every place an 80+ year old woman sagged and wore support hose. No, when I say "good-lookin'", I'm referring to the fact that she loved people, and was always happy and upbeat. If she ever had a care in the world she never conveyed that to anyone I ever saw. Although she had those perpetual crinkles that denotes smiling near her eyes, when I asked my question, she lit up and those crows feet really stood out! "Why dear, she smiled, you really don't know what Cooties are?". She's wearing a vest with "COOTIE", embroidered in 8" high lettering and it says "COOTIE" on her hat and shes standing in front of a table that says "COOTIES" with "WW1 axillary ladies group in tiny letters under that. "Why no," I say, "I really don't". To be honest, I thought that Cooties were body lice, but wasn't sure and didn't want to be mean to these nice ladies and say that out loud. However, why these nice elderly women were so proud to be called this was totally escaping me, and I thought I was wrong about it and needed to dispel some of my own ignorance. "Why Cooties are lice dear", she says flatly some of her normally perpetual smile disappearing. I stammered and thought about it for a moment.....I couldn't really piece it together. It was true that I'd had total amnesia, and only gotten part of my memory back, big gaps still existed. I just been discharged cause the head wound thing. But I couldn't drag my mind across that gap...Cooties are Lice, and these nice ladies are Cooties...hmmm...so I asked. "Edna, I asked, "Why do you guys call yourself Cooties"? "Oh that", she says, finally getting around to understanding my apparent confusion, "well dear, she leans in and says in a conspiratorial voice, glancing sideways as if she can confirm no one else is listening in, her eyes once again crinkling and smiling "it's because we attach ourselves to our men. They can't shake us off, and that's why were still here after all these years". Cracked me up and we both laughed heartily out loud. Loved that woman, she was so kind and giving. Woke up this morning laughing about it again, thinking of Edna, who would probably be about 110 years old now if she was alive, and wanted to share.

The funniest damn thing I'd read in a long while was the guy who decided to actually scam the scammers. Once he'd screwed the first guy, he was having so much fun he kept doing it to other Nigerians. They call that scam the 419 scam, this guy calls it the 419 eater scam where he scams the scammers. It's a lot of reading but worth it. 419 scam eater site

I did get out Scott. It was threatening rain but except fora few drops, it stayed dry. Awesome day. Had way too much firepower (if such can ever be the case). Had 4 shotguns 2 pistols and a Ruger 10/22 .22 semi-auto rifle. The kid was getting tight groups with the rifle and was loving the pop pop pop...he found that he still got pretty good groups (his worst was better than my best) pulling the tigger fast. Between both of us, mostly him, that weapon got worked the most as we burned up some 300 + rounds of .22 ammo. Every weapon got the barrel hot at some point except for the old single shot Stevens 12 ga, which is still fairly accurate, but it sucks to not get a second shot if you missed the first one (not uncommon today:-) so it pretty much stayed in the case. Glad you didn't get zapped though! Better to come back for another day.

Fu*k Will........welcome back to the land of the living. Damn.

Hola JRCO, Welcome. This is an area real near where you live, perhaps right in your backyard or walking distance, that is pretty primo. Local input counts for more than other input. There is an organizational thing coming up soon I wanted you to know about, great opportunity to meet local climbers (like real local to you specifically) and do something positive. Hot Madrone info I'll most likely be at the next meeting as well, hope to meet you.

Nah, that stuff is good as it challenges their minds and assumptions. You get bonus points Minx!

The lad just woke up and started the bleary-eyed stumbling-around part of the morning process. Claims he was babysitting yesterday (well, I knew this part) and the folks didn't get home till midnight. The excuse is probably gonna stick as I was already sleeping at 9:30 pm.... This probably means I still have about an hour to waste now while I wait...

The government should stay out of climbing and out of rescues as well. Let Freedom ring.

When I was in the Army, I shot all the time. Both rifles and was on a shotgun team. My eyesight was better than 20-20. (I didn't know that there was better than 20-20 till they told me.) I came close to hitting about everything I ever aimed at. Now, it's more of an opportunity to go embarrass myself one more time while spending a fun day with the lad. My current lack of shooting prowess is widely known and an ongoing joke in the family. Got everything all packed and by the door....been sitting here for over 2-1/2 hours drinking coffee while waiting for sleeping beauty to wake up....maybe I can blame the excessive coffee for contributing to that shooting issue:-) Have a good one Scott!

Since you asked, I think that it's just a case of you can pay now, or pay later Matt. Doing nothing like Scott suggests, really does bite: however, it usually just bites ya in the ass down the road. Apropos nothing, here's another useless Utube video, better than Porters drug one. LXeb-x63wGI

...and I'd say your just the pole-smoker for the j-o-b. Bring your skin flute and bonaphone. I hear Pink likes to jam Dude: you are quick on the uptake!

Link Doesn't look like dudes in prison. Link to good artical above (Jan 2008).

Is that the company Royal Robbins owns in Modesto? Makes gun holsters too? I didn't find the info with a quick google search, but see a bunch of 5.11 stuff for sale.

Yesterday was sweet. Went out to the Twilight Zone, which I've renamed Jimmies in honor of Jim Opdycke, adventurer extraordinaire. It's a super secret new area that I've helped put up 6 (now 7) routes with a few select dudes. Jim Opdycke had been the guy who had found this place, and had early on looked at the ridge on the far side and said "Man, I bet that ridge is awesome". He looked at getting/finding the approach twice but mixed with doing other stuff for the day, hadn't yet gotten it figured out. Tappet brothers and I had navigated to the base of the ridge last year planning on doing it, but one of them had to be back in town early so we didn't commit to leaving the earth. We told Jim that his intuition was correct, looked great (from the ground). Winter comes. Road gets closed. We wait the opening anxiously. I can't stand the wait and hike in on the snow. A slip and full pitch forward on the wet boulder field with a full pack on a rainy day proves that it wasn't as good of an idea as I thought. Spring comes. Snow finally melts about June. Kyle Silverman and I went out and banged out what was the easiest route of the ridge. A sweet easy 2 pitch route that starts up the backside before gaining the ridge and heading up. 4 single rope raps get you the base and the easy down climb to the ground. I had looked to get on the obvious crack on the front of the ridge then, but saw all the loose rocks and then went sniffing around the back and found an easier version. When we told Jim this: he was a little let down not to have been there to have bagged the best route out there. He'd been invited but had understandably wanted to hit the opening at Beacon that weekend. 2 weeks later: both Tappets were up at Squamish and it was a perfect bluebird weather day forecasted to invite Jim back with me to take a shot at the front pitch to access the ridge this Saturday. Jim's great company, always gives solid belays, and should have been there for the first route. Another adventure is spawned. Sadly, I was a little jammed for time as it was my nephew, 'Lil' Bill's birthday party at 5pm in town. My bro had called the night before to remind me. I said, "Sorry, going climbing, you should have told me earlier," he said he did. So next am, Jim gets his beauty sleep and at 9am I'm at his house and we hustle out of town. We get there and see that the newest road washout had been fixed. Sweet! The hike in is uneventful except for watching Jims surprise at all the winter downfall I hadn't gotten cleared out yet. He was happy to be shown the access trail to the base. We consolidated all the gear, rack, shoes, water harnesses etc into a single backpack, and wanting to speed the process up, I put the rope on it and grabbed the thing. Jim complains that I'm not sharing the weight, but I insist, Jim grabs the brush loppers and off we troop. . A short time later I had those as well in an effort to speed things up and was out front clipping and tossing brush off. We get to the base and gear up. As I know the best belay spot, I made sure Jim is situated away from the potential rock fall line and tied to a tree so he doesn't roll down the hill if I blow it and pitch off as I lead up. Our plan had been to climb the original line up the back, rap down and pitch the loose rock. As I was concerned about time, after a brief eyeball, I choose instead to just jump on it and see what happens. The very first move, the easy step you'd want to put your foot, is a traversing to the left thing where you step over the top of the abyss below. The easy boulder step starts to roll, under the moss it wasn't connected to anything, a harbinger of things to come. So I move some moss and try another, smaller spot for the foot that works, but is off balance. There was a 12' easy mossy traverse up and to the left to gain the bottom of the shallow dihedral and the rock we want to climb. I get a piece in at the base and head up. Each move takes a long time, as no one has ever been here before, each move MUST be weighted first. So the process goes like this. A) Reach up and start pulling moss and loose rocks off as high as you can reach. Cough when you get a face full of moss and dust. Find a handhold, grab it. Continue coughing as with the other hand reach up and start pulling more moss off to clear that side. Cough when you get another face full of moss and dust. Look for future footholds and do the same. Brush off the dirt you just put on your footholds and move up. B) Look for pro. No pro? Repeat A. Pretty slow. But some pro gets found and I jam it with cams except for one notable spot where there's this big asses flake thing (maybe 500 lbs) that I put in a nut, figuring that a fall would likely dislodge the nut and not expand the flake to the point of pulling it off on top of me if I was dangling underneath. Just above the flake, what had appeared to be a great crack for pro turns out to be 3 medium sized loose blocks standing next to each other about 2' tall x 8" x 6" separated by about an inch. I pulled on the lower part of one thinking handhold and it slides towards me. This would have been fine as I had 3 solid points on the rock except that a flake on top of this loose mess falls on me when the lower sob moved. A small 8" x 8" rock tumbles off to the right while a bigger 2' long x 6" x 2" flake falls right on top of me and I pin it with my chest. It would have hit my rope and most likely pulled me off. Jim's yelling below, "Hey, that almost hit me", (not something you want to hear anyone, let alone a 64 year old, say) while I try and wrestle this fu*king thing up and over my LEFT shoulder to keep it off the rope and the belayer. I succeed and barely manage to toss the evil thing down just as my quivering muscles complain at this affront. Fortunately, my pro was only at my feet, so a fall shouldn't have been too ugly. Although we cannot see each other, I mention to Jim about the loose rocks twice as I eyeball some kind of stem and way to climb past to avoid them. I later figured out although he had heard me, what I was trying to convey, which was, don't use this choss, didn't register with him. "Watch out for the loose rocks" was acknowledged. Twice. I get to the top of the shallow 60-70' long dihedral and a with my pro further below me than I'd like, especially on a ground up FA, edge to the right onto the face of the ridge and the easier but unprotected loose mossy rock filled spots to gain the first tree @ 100 up and join the original ridge route. I runner the 2nd, smaller tree, and run it out 40' or so to the 1st Rumba Ridge belay tree as Jim yells up "Hey, you're low on rope dude". I tie in exhausted and happy to be alive. Jim starts up and I hear dark mutterings and murmurs drifting from below as Jim takes his turn. Jim has always been a conscientious and masterful cleaner. His efforts accounted for most of the reason that the SE Corner at Beacon got some long crack exposed and available for pro. Everyone else just climbed past. Jim tries to garden and clean as he climbs, wants the rope to be snug, which I try to provide, and thought I was doing, when I hear #$%^%$ and a CRASH from below…..I wait, rope tight and belay locked off….wondering….finally CLIMBING…keep it snug %^##%.... Jim makes it up to my spot, gets tied in and settled and I ask how it went. He looks me in the eyes, shakes my hand and says "Great lead man". It's a very satisfying thing to get a compliment from a fella ya respect. I suspect I was beaming. I mull crossing over the Rumba Ridge route and trying a new line for pitch 2, except that I was beat, in a hurry, and wanted Jim to see the original route anyway. So we book up the next full pitch, Jim embarrassing me as unlike me and my artful use of my knees and struggling style, easily pulling the crux like it's an something he'd been doing every day for a year. We take a break, languishing lazily at the top: taking in the amazing scenic views of Mount Hood and the Columbia River Gorge. Wish I remembered my camera, in the other back at the base. Jim makes a comment about me not having a helmet. We start the backing out process by rapping the rings Kyle and I had left on the trees last time, grab our stuff, fill the water bottles in the springs, hit the trail, car, dirt road, main road back to town. Make it to Lil Bill's 5:00 O'clock party at 4:59pm. Little dirty. Real tired. Great day. Oh, Jim's name for the route: "Couchmaster Shuffle". We both laugh remembering he'd tagged my with that moniker over 25 years ago, an old shared joke that's his nickname for me. Planning on heading out today to shoot clay pigeons with my son at another new climbing spot no one knows about. If he wakes up before noon. Edited to add pics of the days event. Ahh, here's the lad preparing to blast, with the awesome Cathedral Rock (at the Gothic Rocks climbing area) as a backdrop. If you look closely, you can see my shit hanging up there still, with 4 ropes fixed. It's right next to that silhouetted feature (which looks like a Lions head from some angles), 2 5 gallon buckets with U-bolts for glueing in. (The lil Dawg wants to work) Here's Shaun sitting on the slash pile with 4 of the shotguns we took. He got 1 shot off with the streetsweeper he's holding there. Claimed it hurt his wrist and wouldn't shoot it again. The 20 ga with the phat recoil pad was the weapon of choice.