sobo

"waits" are considered anything less than an hour. "Torture" is defined as any wait longer than an hour but less than 2 hours. "Criminal" is defined as any wait longer than a torture. By this definition, it is CRIMINAL!!!1

that long of a wait is just criminal. CRIMINAL, I TELL YA!!!1

Is your avatar what I think it is? Or is it just a Georgia O'Keeffe painting?

We started just after 3:00. I had to run to Albertson's by 4 o'clock cuz Allan didn't buy any limes when he got the beer. Can't have Coronas without the limes, ya know. Cut 15 minutes off my drinking time. It's all good now. 'cuse me while I go get another "replacement"...

no the fuck wonder why I couldn't find it.

WTF??? What thread is that? Did I miss nipples somehow? Link, please.

Hang on to your butt, sister, cuz you're gonna be inundated by the sausagefest crowd in 3... 2... 1... Serioulsy, I hope you can meet some nice folks here and have a great time in the PNW.

if you forgot about the falling pillar at vantage, how the hell could we expect you to remember a photo? I am sorely afflicted with CRS disease...

Oh, that one! I'd forgotten about it!

???

That was 7. Penalty flag on the play... Delay of game! On the offense, 5 yards!!!1

The hiking will teach it

Well, you're pretty much correct there, Billy. I almost had forgotten about it, until Bill reminded me through his own similar experience. Now I have to go back and "unremember" it again. Didn't mean to kill the thread...

I am continuously rebuilding my karmic stores as I deplete them. That's what my being in mountain rescue is for.

why not? if he lived through that shit, he must be invincible Some may call what I do climbing... others, not so much. But I still manage to get out a little bit. I wear a helmet religiously now. I refuse to climb at Vantage unless it's at the Feathers. They are more solid than the columns. Or Fugg's Falls, when it's iced up, is still a good trip. Regarding being invincible, I attempted to climb something later that same day after the swelling in my elbow went down some, to "get back on the horse" as they say. It was some climb, I think it was a 5.7, somewhere near the grotto/tunnel downclimb, that had some reference to Jesus or crucifixion in its name, because at one point on the climb, you're facing into the rock, face plastered right up against it, in a position not unlike a crucifixion posture. I got sorta scared on it, even at 5.7, and had to downclimb it. I never went back to finish it.

See you in the afterlife, if you believe in that sorta thing. Somebody drag up that thread from last year where some girl wanted to do this same thing. There's no need to type all those warning labels all over again. Found it! Read this, Crillz, BEFORE you go tubing the IID canal, PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEZ!!!!1

Wow, that made me remember why I don't climb at Vantage anymore. How could I have forgotten about this one??? Years back, during the early 90s exploration of the south-facing walls closer to the river, I was climbing on some thing (near today's Chicks and Hens??, Fox and Hens? Hen something?) whereupon the whole column teetered away from the wall, with me on it in a mid-mantle move to the column top. I leaped off and to the right, "Superman-ing" it toward the earth. Anything was better than riding the column down, but I had no idea what I was going to do next. I figured, "Hey, one problem at a time." My pro was popping all the way, as the crack formed by the column widened and disappeared as the column fell further and further from the wall. I thought for sure I was going to die, but as I approached the talus for what was sure to be a hard landing, the rope came taught against the first piece off the ground (my leap had outpaced the column's fall), and I performed what can only be described as a "Wiley E. Coyote", whereupon one finds himself over the edge of the cliff, but doesn't fall until he looks down and understands that there is no longer any ground beneath him. I came up short against the end of the rope, decelerated rapidly, hung near-motionless in mid-air for a split second about 6 feet off the ground and parallel to the talus slope, then slammed into the talus. The impact force was akin to rolling out of the top of a bunk bed and landing solidly on the floor. I'm sure many of you have experienced this same feeling as a college student waking up after a night of binge drinking. The remnants of the column, now big chunks about the size of a Smart Car, came crashing down the talus slope toward me, grinding and melting the rope about 2-3 feet from my harness knot. Someone's pile jacket was effectively returned to its post-pop bottle state, a mass of melted plastic fused to the rock upon which it recently sat. Clouds of dust peeled up into the air, and I could hear Bill Robins' and Paul Certa's voices through the melee, "Oh my God, we finally killed somebody!" Being Hanford employees, I later learned that had I been killed in their presence, they would have had mountains of paperwork to fill out about the incident. I feel overjoyed to have been responsible in helping them avoid this inconvenience by not dying on them that day. Anyway, much to the amazement of the assembled crowd, I slowly arose from the ashes like a Phoenix, quietly dusted myself off, and proceeded to find a quiet place to assess my injuries: an elbow the size of a softball, multiple scrapes, lacerations, and contusions along one side of my body (where I landed) and both of my palms, and totally dusted in volcanic ash and dirt. No head injury, and I was NOT wearing a helmet back in those days. The whole place was silent for several minutes, as those present were in awe of my highly unlikely survival. I think they may have actually expected me to just fall over dead any second, as surely no one could have survived that plunge and the subsequent boulder barrage. I credit my life to my belayer that day, Randy Yeates, who stood fast his position instead of cutting and running, because it was he who buried himself in a crack, making a de facto body belay out of himself, and never let go of the rope, as I made my trip toward terra firma. Thank you again, Randy, wherever you may be. This is a no bullshit story. If Bill Robins were alive today, he would confirm it. If you know Paul Certa, ask him. I lost contact with Randy after that day. He may have ceased climbing after this. I do not climb at Vantage anymore.

Gene, Another vote for the Pack-n-Play for car camping. Somewhat heavy and bulky to transport, but it sets up/tears down lickety split, and can be drug out to the "kitchen area" of the camp during mealtime so you and the wifery can enjoy a beer without worrying about Jr. wandering off. Can be covered with mosquito netting if those little bloodsuckers become a problem.

Home of the Brave... I love that album Talk Normal :tup:

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No longer qualifies as pr0n, then. purely soft core if it's adorned with the dot.

:lmao: Although, that is not the image I had of you, Sherri.

between 9:30 and 10:00 a.m., every day. takes 2 minutes or less, wash-up included. I'm known as the Rocket Man around here, as in I take rocket shits. In and out, no dawdling.

Not all dropping of cams is really dumb. Sometimes, shit just happens. I don't ask for replacement in such instances. Usually, if it's that major of a retreat that it is eating up shitloads of gear, then I'm generally pretty fucking happy just to be back on terra firma with my ass still attached to the rest of me when it's all over and done with to worry about gear replacement costs. Exactly.

yeah, ask the guy in lizard brain's post above.