Borghoff on Beckey and Brush

[Lowell_Skoog]

Back at work on my ski mountaineering history project, I'm reviewing old Summit magazines. I found some stories by Michael Borghoff, who made the first winter and ski ascent of Silver Star Mountain with Fred Beckey in 1965. Since Silver Star is the only place where Fred appears in the chronology of Cascade ski pioneering, I looked for comments from Borghoff about his partner. The following is from "The Nooksack Tower," an April 1961 story written by Borghoff before he climbed with Fred, when he knew Beckey only by reputation. I thought you might enjoy this quote:

 

It was Fred Beckey, the Great Pacific Pterodactyl, who first conquered the Nooksack Tower. Pterodactyl? Well, the Cascades are creating their own mythology, and Fred's name appears in summit registers with such monotonous frequency--usually at the head of the list--that the Northwest neophyte is forced to conclude that Beckey flaps in on leathery wings, avoiding the murderous bushwhacking that is the curse of lesser creatures.

 

The story also includes some of the more entertaining writing about Cascade brush that I've found:

 

I crashed toward Dave [Hiser]'s forest-dimmed form and broke out into a sunlit patch populated by man-high plants with broad green and yellow leaves. Pretty, I thought.

 

"Hey, Dave," I shouted, "where's all this devil's club you've been jabbering about?"

 

Dave turned to me gauntly and pointed a bony finger: "Behold, Borghoff," he cackled triumphantly.

 

I peered again at the innocuous plant in front of me. Along the trunk and narrow branches were thousands of tiny, needly barbs, thickly clustered; they looked--well, they looked just like the spikes of a medieval club. A devil's club. It bowed to me in mocking salutation. A botanical Mephisto.

 

[...]

 

Slide alder is a perfectly respectable deciduous tree, only instead of growing upward like it should, it has assumed the curse of the serpent and slithers along the ground; it grows outward horizontally from the slope, making each upward step a monumental effort against criss-crossed twining branches. Add devil's club to it, and you have an immense problem.

 

You fight; you grab, stumble, slip, slither backward, and land like an upended beetle on your pack. The brush pushes you down. Mud oozes up. Your ice ax is caught. You are on top a mess of devil's club. It starts to rain. Your feet hurt. You are bushwacking in the Cascades.

[CascadeClimber]

sunlit patch populated by man-high plants with broad green and yellow leaves.

 

Man, that only sounds like BW2 or 2+ to me!

 

[Stephen_Ramsey]

[AllYouCanEat]

Schwacking We need a devil's club Graemlin! ...edit to add, someone will have to fix the link cause I can't get it to work.

 

Edited June 10, 2004 by AllYouCanEat

[Dru]

 

indoor bushwacking anyone?

[EWolfe]

Back at work on my ski mountaineering history project, I'm reviewing old Summit magazines. I found some stories by Michael Borghoff, who made the first winter and ski ascent of Silver Star Mountain with Fred Beckey in 1965. Since Silver Star is the only place where Fred appears in the chronology of Cascade ski pioneering, I looked for comments from Borghoff about his partner. The following is from "The Nooksack Tower," an April 1961 story written by Borghoff before he climbed with Fred, when he knew Beckey only by reputation. I thought you might enjoy this quote:

 

It was Fred Beckey, the Great Pacific Pterodactyl, who first conquered the Nooksack Tower. Pterodactyl? Well, the Cascades are creating their own mythology, and Fred's name appears in summit registers with such monotonous frequency--usually at the head of the list--that the Northwest neophyte is forced to conclude that Beckey flaps in on leathery wings, avoiding the murderous bushwhacking that is the curse of lesser creatures.

 

The story also includes some of the more entertaining writing about Cascade brush that I've found:

 

I crashed toward Dave [Hiser]'s forest-dimmed form and broke out into a sunlit patch populated by man-high plants with broad green and yellow leaves. Pretty, I thought.

 

"Hey, Dave," I shouted, "where's all this devil's club you've been jabbering about?"

 

Dave turned to me gauntly and pointed a bony finger: "Behold, Borghoff," he cackled triumphantly.

 

I peered again at the innocuous plant in front of me. Along the trunk and narrow branches were thousands of tiny, needly barbs, thickly clustered; they looked--well, they looked just like the spikes of a medieval club. A devil's club. It bowed to me in mocking salutation. A botanical Mephisto.

 

[...]

 

Slide alder is a perfectly respectable deciduous tree, only instead of growing upward like it should, it has assumed the curse of the serpent and slithers along the ground; it grows outward horizontally from the slope, making each upward step a monumental effort against criss-crossed twining branches. Add devil's club to it, and you have an immense problem.

 

You fight; you grab, stumble, slip, slither backward, and land like an upended beetle on your pack. The brush pushes you down. Mud oozes up. Your ice ax is caught. You are on top a mess of devil's club. It starts to rain. Your feet hurt. You are bushwacking in the Cascades.

 

That's my father! Mike Borghoff!

Edited June 10, 2004 by MisterE

[EWolfe]

Dave Hiser is a photographer for National Geographic, and has been a family friend for 40 years.

[Lowell_Skoog]

That's my father! Mike Borghoff!

 

Excellent! Well you can tell him that I enjoy his writing, next time you speak to him. Good reading!

[EWolfe]

I haven't seen him for 30 years.

 

Thanks for the blast from the past.

[JoshK]

I haven't seen him for 30 years.

 

Thanks for the blast from the past.

 

You serious? He's your dad? you haven't seen him for 30 years? Family drama on cc.com.

 

I like this quote:

 

"Slide alder is a perfectly respectable deciduous tree, only instead of growing upward like it should, it has assumed the curse of the serpent and slithers along the ground; it grows outward horizontally from the slope, making each upward step a monumental effort against criss-crossed twining branches. Add devil's club to it, and you have an immense problem."

 

I was trying to explain slide alder to my dad today. The only thing I could come up with that made it different than normal branchy trees was that it grew sideways from the hill.