lancegranite

Post deleted by lancegranite

I freely admit that I was stoned out of my mind when I watched the Tour de France.

yeah.

It's like i'm working two jobs now. A recient favorite: Running across two bears that I decide to take home, of course they turn into native americian childern (5 &7 ) I adopt them and give them clothes that don't fit me anymore. ( good thing that I saved those old clothes) The church that I go (WTF?) to doesnt like my bear-childern so I wreck the place up in a green VW bus (I like that part) the bus sustains little damage and we make our escape back to the den-house (nice view of a lake, I must be dreaming...) we live happly until the Clearwater tribe gets wind of my adoption and wants the child-cubs back. it goes on and on.... I just remember loving these kids so much that it hurt.

I'm sorry that I ever came here...

I''l buttonhook this one... Reciently, I quit my herbs and spices for the first time in nearly twenty years. The daytime is fine, but it seems my nocturnal self has been repressed somewhat... the dreams! the dreams!

If memory serves me right, a cougar's tail is nearly as long as it's body.

Flash climber got my refrence to Cunning Stunt. I repeated the route on my vacation and found it exciting to pull the crux. The fall would not be that bad, but it was not that appealing either. Greg's retro job brings up good questions, when is your route not yours anymore?

Hamish's little dog did not seem to have a problem with the runout...

No man should be able to make a noise like that...

Say that you are the first ascenionist, and you want to add a retro bolt or pin to your route. Do you have to ask a bunch of ingrates? or do you just do what the good lord intended...

...and a drilled pocket feels just like a pin scar. Index was a gravel pit. Every climb at Index was completely excavated, scrubbed, trundled,toproped, preprotected, pinned out and then "sent in good style". ohhhhhh! the majesty! It's really hard to take this seriously from a outside standpoint... we just jook like a bunch of wierdos prancing around, telling each other how to live.

Anybody local want to provide a post-destruction pic?

As I recall, the Access Fund was trying to open talks with the homeowners....but that was in 1997.

Some of my first climbing was done on the mythical Lake Stevens boulder. A house sized granite erratic plunked down five minutes from Frontier Village, the rock provided fun top roping on good stone 15 minutes from I-5. a housing development bought the land and soon the rock was in somebodys backyard. The end happened much like the Malamute, bolts smashed, holds filled in with concrete. Anybody ever climb at this once cool place?

After totally flailing Clean crack, I fumble to untie my shoes. Looking up, the beast was 40 feet away and rolling so quietly that I did not hear the engine. I was 4 feet from the tracks, sitting down. The climbing world will mourn the loss of the finest granite climbing area 20 feet from train tracks.

Things looked nice out there this week. Cleaning and trundling are just part of climbing, and Index deserves to be taken care of.

My good friend cattalk is camped out at Index right now, he is hard to miss, as I am sure he has dug a foxhole to sleep in. Home from Iraq, he is really excited to climb!!!

By the time you read this, it will be too late.

Photo by Bob/ Ira Spring, Cascade Companion,1976

Reading my copy of Cascade Companion, Dock Butte is described as limestone cliffs columns and sinkholes. The photo shows only smaller clean boulders. The views should be good. North of Concrete, south of Mt. Baker

Very nice, the best kind of TR, one that inspires!

I climb because I cannot build a ship, sail across the world, kill you and steal your golden treasures, take your land, destroy your cities to build a giant statue of myself, then sail back home to write my memoirs at my country estate. It is our obsession to shape the land, to plow and till, to name and catalog, blast and cut. Fighting this urge is a new thing, constricted by law, bound by popular opinion, we languish in plastic handcuffs, Our grandfathers built the highways and cities, while we build nothing, frustrated and listless. Tell me what you thought the first time you held an ice axe....did you imagine thrusting it into the pitiless ice and snow on some unimaginable face? Welding it felt good, natural...like a hammer, it begs to be used, to be mastered. Swinging it at imagined ice, you decide right then...you are a climber, and this is your weapon.

Quartz is my mom's maiden name...

TR and photos please!