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the pussified generation!

as i grow old, i head back to the mountains to wander the crags of my youth. these places that i hold secret and special to my heart. the fresh air, the clean hard rock and the friends...... pristine enviroments, they allowed for escapism from the hurried and dirty life that entails dwelling in the city.

not one bit escapes my eye, from cracks and edges to the fine lichen that slowly decomposes the rock. the natural state. peace and enjoyment. countless days and months i have spent here challengeing myself, pushing to become stronger and to hone my abilities to deal with the difficult sections that i come to, while climbing and in life. a worthless pursuit none the less, as i have no positive impact on the society that swarms about me. but does that hurt or even rub like an uncomfortable pack? no! and the reason why? the more of the world i travel through and leave untrammled, the better person i am. if you can experience so much without ever turning it into you, the better we all are.

as i approach the bend in the trail that gives me the first glimpse of the musuem that is my favrotie crag, i catch a sparkle on the cliff......

what tha.................................

^&*^*&(^%&(^(*^&^(^&*^(^&&(_)^$%^#$%@!#!_^%&*$%$!@~%%":":?{)O&*&%^%^$$&$^$*%(%%*(^&*&)(*___+*_&%(&*^*)%^$%@!~~#@!$$*^*)&(*_)*(?>?_((*%&*%&%&*$%$@#~@*$($^#$!@~?><{)_*(*%^$^ &%%*(^&*&)(*___+*_&%(&*^*)%^$%@!~~#@!$$*^*)&(*_)*(?>?_((*%&*%&%&*$%$@#~@*$($^#$!@~?><{)_*(*%^$^&%%*(^&*&)(*___+*_&%(&*^*)%^$%@!~~#@!$$*^*)&(*_)*(?>?_((*%&*%&%&*$%$@#~@* $($^#$!@~?><{)_*(*%^$^&%%*(^&*&)(*___+*_&%(&*^*)%^$%@!~~#@!$$*^*)&(*_)*(?>?_((*%&*%&%&*$%$@#~@*$($^#$!@~?><{)_*(*%^$^&%%*(^&*&)(*___+*_&%(&*^*)%^$%@!~~#@!$$*^*)&(*_) *(?>?_((*%&*%&%&*$%$@#~@*$($^#$!@~?><{)_*(*%^$^&%%*(^&*&)(*___+*_&%(&*^*)%^$%@!~~#@!$$*^*)&(*_)*(?>?_((*%&*%&%&*$%$@#~@*$($^#$!@~?><{)_*(*%^$^&%%*(^&*&)(*___+*_&% (&*^*)%^$%@!~~#@!$$*^*)&(*_)*(?>?_((*%&*%&%&*$%$@#~@*$($^#$!@~?><{)_*(*%^$^&%%*(^&*&)(*___+*_&%(&*^*)%^$%@!~~#@!$$*^*)&(*_)*(?>?_((*%&*%&%&*$%$@#~@*$($^#$!@~?><{) _*(*%^$^&%%*(^&*&)(*___+*_&%(&*^*)%^$%@!~~#@!$$*^*)&(*_)*(?>?_((*%&*%&%&*$%$@#~@*$($^#$!@~?><{)_*(*%^$^&

son of a bitch is all i can mudder out loud, that won't wake my mother' soul.

my pace and pulse quickens i scramble closer to the devistation. thoughts of of industrial crag comes to mind, all those eysores that litter the crags that abutt the city. have know crept into my little world of tranquility. only after 60 yrs of climbing at this beautiful spot, has man now violated this cliff with his mark of weakenss. bolts! the years of countless arguments against bolting arise to the top of my mind. and questions start to form.

who did this?

why?

what happend to their balls and spine?

do i get reimbursed for the destroyed memories?

can i kill these people legally?

are they aware of their acts of vandalism?

what gym do they frequent?

as i roam the base of the cliff, i start to notice not just the odd first asscentionist bolt or fixed pin, hand drilled on lead in mountain boots. but new shiney marks littering the cliff face. almost anywhere one could place a bolt, WHAM! this sad spectecle of mankinds theroticial dominance over the natural, does not relay the message of most responsible climbers. just the selfish few who look at themselves as great conquerers helping the masses better understand THEIR sport. sadly enough these short sided individuals have done nothing to help climbing, only hurt it by firing up the dialuoge of climbers impact. we are many users all with different intentions.

after an exhaustive search for answers, i leave the cliff dragging my ailing heart behind. i can feel a part of it missing. never again can i consider this sacred cliff heaven, only a whore house to unadventuresome individuals with no foresight.

[This message has been edited by bolt monster (edited 07-23-2001).]

[This message has been edited by bolt monster (edited 07-23-2001).]

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Hey Bolt-Monster!

I assume that your post was written with the intent of great sarcasm given your nom de plume and such, but actually, apart from your allusions to profanity and violence, you have poetically summarized much of how I feel when I see grid and retro-bolting. Laugh if you wish.

Thank you, Dwayner

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