tvashtarkatena

OK, I just checked my antique skis. They're 'Seattle Super Hickories', made in Norway, apparently rented or purchased from the U Book Store. 198 cm. Metal edges (screwed in) on the sides, phenolic edges on the shovel. The bindings are Dovre KX cables with lock down hooks on the sides, with a spring loaded release cable (similar to the older Rivas) and a gooseneck cable tension adjustment in front. Overall, a pretty sophisticated setup for the time, really.

Uh, not that I need to point out Seahawk's ignorance to anyone here, but Nazi Germany did not have a viable nuclear weapons development program. Which we only determined after they had been defeated. When the survival of the free world was literally at stake, it would have made much more sense to cross our fingers and trust Hitler, who surely would have disclosed both the specific location of their research facilities and the progress that they'd made along these lines to his enemies in the middle of a war to destroy them. Is there a single sane historian who contends that anything other than fear of Germany acquiring the weapons first that impelled the Allies to undertake the Manhattan project? Nothing stated so far successfully refutes my original statement. Neener.

Got 10, now. Two Russkies, though.

Uh, not that I need to point out Seahawk's ignorance to anyone here, but Nazi Germany did not have a viable nuclear weapons development program.

Why is it always L.A. that gets nuked? Ever notice that? Why not some other city in need of quick remodeling, such as... Phoenix. They probably wouldn't notice the extra heat. Vegas. What happens there, stays there; Less fallout hazard. 'tlanna. Capitol of the 'New South'. What a dump! Ever try to fly in there? Drive. New Orleans. Who's gonna give a shit a second time? Colorado Springs. You were praying for Armeggedon, right? Boulder. OMG, they've vaporized my new Hummer! Dallas/Fortworth. Do I even need to provide justification here? Crawford. Ah, sweet irony. Sultan. That light on Hwy 2 has to go.

Trout Negligees...had those suckers too. Jesus, how many pairs of skis have I gone through?

That is all.

That is all.

America: the land where everyone dreams of being a Hero.

Werd, tvash Started on the stylie Kazama Cornices myself. Its been a perpetual evolution ever since. Keeping your shit together when your legs start to feel like noodles is a welcome challenge every time I go out. Ive been teleing for about 10yrs, but I still feel like I have a lot to learn and work on. I tried knuckle dragging several seasons ago and about half way through the winter, found my self riding and hucking with my friends who are life long boarders. Boring And whats with clogging up the narrow slot off the lift and hiding of the off-side of bumps? Get the fuck out of the way. I dont move that fast, but I wont hesitate to inadvertantly smack your dumb ass with a pole on the way by. I had Kazamas myself at one point, myself. Can't remember the model. Pretty good ski, as I recall. Now that we're dragging out the model Ts of skis: Fischer Europa 99s, baby! Karhus...follow that fucking bear, bitch. Heel lifts made from 2" sections of dowel and shock cord. I wan - it. I wan - it. Postal Service woolies, Pendletons and dachsteins. Baaaaaaa! BUt my absolute keeewwwwlist piece of gear, stolen from high school metal shop: green safety glasses. Supahfly!

For all you telebators out there; I"ve got a pair of REI rental long boards, real viking ships, from the 1930s in pristine condition, adjusted perfectly for my tely boots. Never skiied them. DOn't we have some kind of spring ski fest thing on this site coming up?

Trip: Global Warming hits the Canadian Rockies - Hafner, Louise Falls, The Ghost, The Grotto Date: 3/10/2007 Trip Report: TR: Canadian Rockies March 10-15th 2007 There's nothing like an all night, high speed, deep space voyage across Washington and Idaho's empty quarters to transport you from your daily routine to the world of loonies, elk overpasses, overpriced Labatts, and lots and lots of vertical ice. In a mere 10 hours of cranking Dream Theatre on cruise control, or 12 if you have to wait for the gas station in Invermere to open, you jump from Seattle's overly familiar traffic to a corridor of giants; the Canadian Rockies. After a post dinner departure on Friday, Saturday mid morning found WeekendClimberz and I (Tvashtarkatena) warming up on Hafner Canyon's short but sweet frozen falls. Weekend had prearranged to meet Alex, Gene, and Fred Beckey in the rockies over the phone. By 1:00 we began to mix it up with some one tool ascents on TR, where Weekend demonstrated his signature dynamic one tool placement. Fastest tool in the West? I repeated this maneuver, but forgetting to actually hold onto the tool, and found myself staring up at my well plunged Reactor from 10 feet below. "Weekend and Mini-Weekend": Hafner After a day at Hafner, WC and I rendezvoused with Alex and Genepires (Gene) at Canmore's overcrowded Grizzly Paw for mediocre burgers washed down with good beer brewed on site. Later that evening we were joined by Pat Delaney, a local guide, and Fred Beckey. Pat filled us in on the dismal warm spell that had prevailed for over a week. Temperatures in the 50s, extreme avi hazard and frequent icefall would limit our movements, but we still managed to climb every day. The only cheap room left in Canmore was a double at the Akai, a sad sack motel administered by self-described paralegal in blue sunglasses that, judging from the scabs on his forearms, suffered from a serious case of crank bug. The four of us managed to pile in after hours. Avoid. The following morning we (minus Pat D) met at the Safeway parking lot. After a classic Beckey yard sale packing session, we packed into Weekend's new/used 4 Runner. "Fred, your inner boots are still on the roof of your car" "Fuck em". I'll admit it, I grabbed one of the manky things for a souvenir and stashed it on Weekend's passenger side floor. Soon we were heading for the Ghost River and its promise of colder temperatures, low avi hazard, and vehicular destruction. "Are we done fuckin around?" Weekend cleared for takeoff It's anywhere from a $2000 to $18 million CAD fine, depending on who you talk to, for crossing the river in your vehicle after km post 39, so we parked just before the river and began the 2 km stroll into the valley. "I can't do anything in these fuckin boots": Fred on approach. After Gene and Alex lead through, I lead the moderate first pitch of Yellow Bird. Fred followed. Trees are aid; Yellow Bird, Valley of the Birds/Ghost River Moments after this photo was taken, Fred peeled and nailed his back on the woody knob behind him. After a few WTFs? he was back on it, however. I'm not your grampa, I'm your Daddy; Fred on Yellow Bird/Ghost River Patagonia 2008 Cover Photo. New for 2009: suspenders. The upper pitch of Yellow Bird looked like dripping Swiss cheese, so Fred, Weekend, and I climbed another dripping ice runnel. Afterwards, we rejoined with Gene and Alex further up the canyon. Fred stayed back to eat a lunch of Kraft individually wrapped cheese slices. "I gotta lotta cheese. Want some? It'll keep yer pecker hard." The Eagle: Valley of the Birds/Ghost River As beautiful as it was, The Eagle was by now in full sun and melting away, a condition which resulted in an acute case of group testicular atrophy. Moments later an attractive woman sporting what appeared to be a homemade riot control helmet made from a hand cut motorcycle face shield affixed with two oversized wing nuts appeared, followed closely by her climbing partner. "What's with the old guy warning me about the cougars?" she asked. The ensuing conversation resulted in an invitation to Mike's house (Sybelle was visiting him from L.A.) for the following evening. Mike had worked for GM for 21 years, starting on the assembly line, and had taken a buy out a year ago, bought a place in Canmore with his new wife (not Sybelle), and were applying for Canadian citizenship. Mostly Ugly: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly/Ghost River. The pillar collapsed less than an hour later. Parting shot: the Ghost River 4x4 commercial: Ghost River Excited by the Toyota commercial shot above, Fred began to fixate on other photographic opportunities. "That's a good cow shot. Nice sunlight on that cow." "Look at those black cows against the dry grass. Nice shot." That evening we gathered at the Ski Lodge to cook dinner. Weekend and I had bought some steaks, salad, and French bread. I asked Fred what he liked to eat. "I like to eat foie gras." After taking in part of the Miss Hooters International competition and the better part of a 12 pack of seemingly non-alcohol Molson Canadian, we hit the sack wondering what we would do the following day in 50 degree weather. The Grotto, short slot canyon just out of Canmore, provided a low effort, zero risk option for a rainy day. Gene and Tvash swimming up Grotto Falls Weekend sends Grotto Falls, way right of the kayakers section Gene sends Grotto Creek, main flow Rainy day 'fuckin around': Gene and Weekend doing ice yoga After dinner that night we descended like locusts on Mike's townhouse to consume virtually all of his wine and beer supply. Mike, we owe you one, buddy! Pat Delaney demos Yamnuska's all inclusive guiding package The following morning Gene and Alex headed up the Icefields Parkway, while Fred, Weekend and I headed for Lake Louise. The weather had mercifully turned colder. Rockies weather Within a few km the sun came out. "You just can't beat the scenery": Castle Mountain and Eisenhower Tower. We stopped at one of Fred's standard cafes. The young waitress came up to Fred. "I like your sweater" Fred didn't miss a beat, "Do you like me?" After prying ourselves from a herd of Chinese tourists, all of whom wanted the pictures of the Viking, the Old Fart, and the Dog Faced Boy Ice Climbers with a parting Beckey "Fuck em", we began the pleasant, scenic stroll around Lake Louise. Within a half an our, however, we had lost Fred. He finally appeared, looking even more disheveled than normal, if that's possible. "That was a 5.9 shit." "10a, maybe." "Jesus, I thought I'd taken care of it this morning. I'm probably the first guy to shit on the side of that trail all season. I'm lucky the fuckin Girl Scouts didn’t come along or something." Horsies, Lake Louise From the base of Louise Falls Fred on Louise Falls Weekend inside Louise Falls After Louise Falls, Weekend, Fred and I headed for the Canadian Alpine Club in Canmore to cook dinner. I explained to Fred that we had plenty of extra food for him to join us. "I've got butter." That evening we met a beautiful, outgoing Danish woman named Line (Leena) who was enrolled in a five day ice climbing course. The following day, to be held at Hafner, would be her last. We also met a young Aussie named Marty who had borrowed all of his friends mountaineering gear save a helmet. Hafner was on the way home, and we only planned on climbing a half day before heading back, so we invited Marty to join us for his first ice climb. As we drove towards Hafner the next day, with Marty in tow (he'd purchased his own car for his extended stay), I looked down at my feet. "Hey, where's my Beckey souvenir?" "Uh, it's on the roof of the Alpine Club, man." After an hour or so of sharing ropes with three Japanese kamikazes who had a unique method of throwing themselves at a route, Gene and Alex surprised us by showing up. Alex at Hafner Alex at Hafner From Hafner, we began the long drive home. The weather was warming again, which made leaving the Rockies a bit easier. The lessons of the trip were far from over, however. Do not, under any circumstances, attempt to eat the Chili Cheese Dog from A&W. And, as always Don't mess with Bat Boy

No, if it was, it would have Kevbone's hand around it.

Telemark is a place in Norway, mon ami. It translates to "I get yelps and whoops from the chairlifts and, sadly, you don't."

Go on...you've got my attention....

The vikings used tely gear. That's reason enough for me.

FYI; cable bindings, such as Rivas, are flexible enough not to require a release mechanism. With proper adjustment, you'll blow out of the binding if it all goes wrong. Others, such as Voiles, have release options. I use the same ski crampons as AT folks. As for the rest; well, that's all personal preference, fitness, and skill.

I started telying on Track No Glides and was similarly stoaked to upgrade to a pair of Rossy Randonees, but one of the little bitches snapped in half on me on top of Stevens. Asolo Extremes were bling, back then.

Well, where is it?

Frightening!

Move to the Southern Hemisphere?

Looks like we've got a quorum. That does it, we're taking over! Oh, pleaze...PLEAZE do.

We've already determined that you are an out of the closet female, but you'll still need to send us a DNA sample for verification.

I suppose it's true that a hemmorrhoid doesn't really have a gender.

I let a girl shit in my butterdish?!!! Archie is a man trapped in a wannabe telier's body. Kat_Roslyn, Carolyn, CindyRoute66 (?), pink sock, KKK (trapped in a troll's body), Seahawk (transexual)