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Beacon Rock Stories


wayne

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Although I've climbed at Beacon many times I have yet to have an epic - I must be missing out on the Beacon experience. (I've had a lot of Epics just none at Beacon.) The first time I climbed there I ended up climbing Blown Out in a snow storm. It's really no further than Squamish or Wa Pass from Seattle. You guys are going to start a southward stampede.

 

Hey what's this doing in the Oregon section? :mad:

 

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Although I've climbed at Beacon many times I have yet to have an epic - I must be missing out on the Beacon experience. (I've had a lot of Epics just none at Beacon.) The first time I climbed there I ended up climbing Blown Out in a snow storm. It's really no further than Squamish or Wa Pass from Seattle. You guys are going to start a southward stampede.

 

Hey what's this doing in the Oregon section? :mad:

 

 

So you have had no epics....great.....how about stories from Beacon.

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Although I've climbed at Beacon many times I have yet to have an epic - I must be missing out on the Beacon experience. (I've had a lot of Epics just none at Beacon.) The first time I climbed there I ended up climbing Blown Out in a snow storm. It's really no further than Squamish or Wa Pass from Seattle. You guys are going to start a southward stampede.

 

Hey what's this doing in the Oregon section? :mad:

 

 

So you have had no epics....great.....how about stories from Beacon.

 

Boner - My story is shown in bold.

 

:)

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Boner - My story is shown in bold.

 

:)

 

Peter, that's not a story, that's 16 words.

 

Ya got to let your inner Irish out so you can convey the little nuances like the pain your fingers felt, the strength sapping drive to the top and the constant tension where you are wondering if your partner will survive the cold....blah blah blah, add 3 paragraphs with circles and arrows on it - thats what a story is!

 

Now this is a story! Link to Jeff Lowes Pumori story on ST

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kind of a generic story, but illustrative of what i love about beacon - the forecast y-day was for rain and cold and shit in portland, but figured i'd have faith and see what i could make happen out there anyhow. brought a ton of aid gear and clothes for the diggity-dank - greeted instead by mostly clear skies, rock that was mostly dry, and sane windiness - brent and i didn't see a soul on the south side the whole day - the rain that apparantly screwed pdx didn't arrive till the 4 o'clock safety hour when we were leaving anyhow. and on so fine a day, even the most typical beacon route had fun to offer - free for all was no picnic, brent apparantly deciding he would honor the route name by frenching almost the entire thing :) the real excitement came when rapping on his rope, which he thought was 60 meters, but in actuality is more like 57 meters or so - i thought rope-stretch would get me all the way to ground, but after doing a very titillating bat-man like manuevre to swing towards the uphill side while paying out the last 4 feet of slack to make it a little 1 instead of 10 foot fall to the ground, i made sure to tell brett to just go to the lower station

 

a fine day for a vacuom bottle - i was drinking hot cider all afternoon! a great way to toast the dozen eagles swooping all over the rock and river, screechign their heads off.

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Hmmm, a story. Well, there is the night I learned about the coefficient of friction between old ropes on wet basalt.

 

It was in one of those 100 degree spells two years ago and I was working nights on the column anchors off of the Upper Grassy Ledges. I was hauling the work load up a line I had fixed on Flying Dutchman and doing laps up the Corner all night doing it and having a great time just being out there. When I finally got over to Iron Maiden and Flying Swallow I was pretty excited as the top, west end of the Upper Grassy Ledges is one of my favorite places to hang out.

 

I knew I was playing an iffy game with the rain that night, but one I seemed to be winning at the time. I had replaced the column-top anchor that serves both routes a day or two previously and was rapping down to augment Dean Caldwell and Kim Schmitz' original mid-anchor on Flying Swallow (Dean still knew which he drilled and which was Kim's) when the rain started. I'd done the rap before and new it pulled a little hard as the rope ran over about six feet of gently sloping, but otherwise seemingly smooth rock right off the anchor, but I was completely unprepared for what followed.

 

6299Caldwell_Anchor.JPG

 

I get down to the mid-anchor and, leaving it for history's sake, add another below it, and at that point it's beginning to rain - not hard, but steady. Not a big deal and I'm a bit protected by the overhanging column tops so take my time getting ready to get out of there, but when I go to pull the ropes they don't budge, as in even an inch. I'm pulling like mad - nothing - except now it's really beginning to pour.

 

What I hadn't realized was that when fuzzy work ropes meet newly wetted basalt with a lot of common surface area an almost hyper-magnetic effect kicks in and the friction goes through the roof. I was going to have to come up with way more leverage if I wanted to get out of there anytime soon. But just as I start to go over my options I manage to let go of the pull-side of the two ropes and it swings out into the darkness in the direction of Blown Out and points east. Silly me.

 

Great, now I am screwed. So, I have to basically dig out every sling and piece of gear I own, string it all together and put my three biggest cams on the end to try and snag the errant line. I spent the next hour and a half or so hung out as far as I could out in space to the right swinging my ensemble of junk into the void trying to 'catch' the rope to no avail - all to the tune of Dylan's 'Idiot Wind' going round and round in my head.

 

But just then, as things sometimes turn out, I saw one of the more beautiful sights I've ever seen. Right in the midst of my futile hurling, I heard a slow, eastbound train headed for the base and when I looked back over that way all I could see was this stunning white cone of raindrops advancing through the trees - it was so dark out nothing else was visible except for this tunnel of lit droplets advancing along the track eventaully turning into a bright circle as it got really close. I can't really do the visual justice with words, but I remember freezing at the sight of it and just watching with the rain streaming down my face as it approached and passed. It still gives me a shiver thinking about it.

 

In the end I did snag the rope, dig out the jumars and aiders, and managed an excruciatingly slow rope pull so I could get the hell out of there for the night - not a big story, but certainly a memorable evening and yet another valuable Beacon Rock lesson.

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I climbed the beacon one time back in the early '80s. A couple friends and I headed out there after a night of rose festival debauchery, and I was still "technically" drunk. My friends and I had harness' and rock shoes, but didn't have much else with us. We were just gonna hike around, explore, and maybe do some bouldering. We met this guy in the parking lot with his girlfriend, sorting gear. He was obviously desperate for partners, and talked us into climbing with him. I told the guy I was drunk, and sick, and would rather not climb, but he was very convincing. Don't remember his name but he was about 6'3" tall and a strong climber. I remember the first and last pitches pretty well but the rest is hazy... First was an open book, 5.9 I think, and the big guy hits it and disappears, poof! The last was a 5.8 at some big ledges just below the trail. Normally this climb wouldn't have been so hard, but I felt like shit. We topped out at the trail, me sweating like a pig... Totally spent... I laid on that trail looking at a beautiful blue sky while proper family folks and their little kids walked around me looking somewhat disturbed... Proud to say I never puked once all day. The memory of puking on that beautiful rock would have haunted me forever.

 

I suppose that guy with was pretty disgusted after climbing with us that day but he never showed it. He was a decent guy... WTF, he asked for it anyway.

 

 

In reading some of these stories I find an old friend. Jim Opdyke patiently spent some time introducing me to aid climbing at Broughton's bluff during that time. His efforts were mostly wasted. I just enjoyed free climbing more. Hope Jim's doin ok. Haven't seen him in many, many years. When was the picture taken?

 

 

Enjoyed all the stories. Especially pink's "zipper"...

 

d

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  • 4 weeks later...

 

chris jensen the tweaker

 

ah yes, while spinning beacon yarns, we might as well throw out the cool monikers of beacon climbers - chris jensen the tweaker might be the best so far!

 

old larry

sketchy todd

 

 

 

 

...come to mind right off the bat...

 

 

ken

 

 

ken_41.jpg

Edited by pink
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Tell me of this Ken.

ken pasquinelli. do you know him? he was sort of a stoic fellow. pretty serious dude.

 

ken was one of my mentors. he used to do laps out at beacon and was one of oppies climbing partners. he was the one who got me soloing out there.

 

ken and i were in 11worth one weekend and he was doing cordless laps on classic crack one day. i thought it was pretty cool that he could do that. ken suggest i give it a shot telling me he would climb behind me and grab me if i fell. i believed him and sent it with confidence.

 

ken was sort of dick if you didn't know him well. he didn't trust people and was pretty anti social. he just disappeared one day. ken will always be a local at beacon and every time i talk to jim i just have to ask "heard from ken yet". i wish i knew where he was. ken truly loved climbing, basically just moving over the stone.

 

where are you ken? WTF happened to you.

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  • 2 months later...
wow, bumping a thread more then a year old. must be some kind of record.

 

anyway, ken's my dad. out of respect for his privacy, i won't go into any details, but suffice it to say, he's living in colorado and doing well. so that's wtf happened to ken. ;)

 

 

Ken is your dad.....holy crap. We all miss Ken....I have so many stories about Ken....some good....some bad. The last person to see Ken in Portland was The Grit (Chris).

 

 

To add to Pink's story.......In 1996 I first led the SE corner all on my own. Ken was soloing doing laps and told me to follow him. He was wearing a small fanny pack with a small jam box hanging of the end with the Scorpions blaring. At one point I went first (with a rope) and he was right behind me……I hesitated on a move and he told me what he told Pink…..”if you fall…I will catch you”. This was said with a deep grovel voice. Ken had so much confidence I did not think twice about he actually catching me.

 

 

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Ken tricked me into soloing Classic Crack in 'worth as well! Ken was a very good friend of mine, like my brother, not just my climbing mentor or partner. I miss him very much. I can not begin to think of Beacon without thinking of him. I have had so many adventures with that guy. He was a tricky guy sometimes, he told me to lead Wrong Gull one day. Seeing how I had never done it, I says to him, "its like a nine or ten a right?" and he says " yeah, I think its something like that". I went for it and it seemed a bit harder than that, but shit man, Ken said I could do it. So I did. After a while I really was just doing laps at Beacon. Ken was the only guy that I knew that I could run into in the middle of a pitch and would just perch on some little lip or bulge and sit there and chat with me.

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  • 10 years later...

Just wanting to let anyone conscerned here know that my dad, Ken Pasquinelli, was found dead of a heart attack on a trail out by the audubon society on March 31st. We'll be scattering his ashes in a few of his favorite places. We'll be scattering his ashes at Beacon Rock on Sunday, May 6 at 1:00 pm.

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