Beacon

[geoff]

[ P.S. I'd also love to know the secret of how all you professionals and business people get by without marketing and sales 101 because I'd sure like to be able to quit having to market and sell to keep my business alive... ]

 

In business, as in life, it helps to not be an asshole.

[LostCamKenny]

[ P.S. I'd also love to know the secret of how all you professionals and business people get by without marketing and sales 101 because I'd sure like to be able to quit having to market and sell to keep my business alive... ]

 

In business, as in life, it helps to not be an asshole.

[ivan]

jeebus, looks positively venutian for opening day

[denalidave]

Can we all stop goating JH please? Starting with me. Lets talk about Beacon and how incredible the climbing is and the community. Who is climbing what?

 

I still have not heard your opinion on YW? What is the grade? In your opinion?

Beacon Stoke from last summer...

 

 

 

Young Wariors July 2013

[denalidave]

Anyone want to get out early tomorrow for opening day at Beacon?

[JosephH]

[ P.S. I'd also love to know the secret of how all you professionals and business people get by without marketing and sales 101 because I'd sure like to be able to quit having to market and sell to keep my business alive... ]

 

In business, as in life, it helps to not be an asshole.

Well, my business is great - how's that closure working for you? And maybe you should have thought about that before heading up the West Face in an intrepid expedition to prove that the last ranger standing at Beacon, working double shifts with pneumonia, fucked up the phone message. But of course you couldn't be troubled to call ahead or swing by the station to clarify if that was an oversight, no and not because you were being an adversarial asshole, but because you were on a holy mission. And exactly what was the point of that mission? To insure the phone message and website closure messages were corrected? Well, kudos to you boys, 'mission accomplished', and damn if you didn't get just the desired result! But now maybe you could explain to the faithful here exactly how that helped the closure crusade? I mean, really, I'm sure inquiring minds want to know and all.

[JosephH]

Well poison squirrels, this is the last cc.com post I'll be making.

 

You've finally convinced me you don't value early opens so I'll be ceasing monitoring the Peregrines and trying to coordinate any more early opens. I do have to admit to being utterly baffled as to your choices - like deciding you'd rather focus on deliberately breaking the closure in order to insure the park's phone message is right instead of having a full-moon party on the ledge Saturday night because that's exactly what this latest moronic three stooges stunt cost you.

 

But hey, these are your choices - so be it and cool. But let's be excruciatingly clear here given I'm out of here, your actions of the past three years are directly responsible for, and have insured, the closure will stand, unaltered, for years to come. In fact, if you're smart you won't even say the word 'closure' again until about 2020 or so. You especially shouldn't make the mistake of saying word one about it in your little movie - that would be a colossal fuckup (hint, guess how many Mazama and AAC members are [i know, reprehensibly] also Audubon members?).

 

Unbelievable really, that you claim to want to lift or amend the closure, but then proceed to vilify and act adversarially and in continual bad faith with the very "cops" and "whores" who are the ONLY people who could make that happen. And guess what? There is no amount of outrage, public campaigning, scientific guns-for-hire, facebook postings, or wailing which can force those individuals to make the changes you want. NONE, NADA, ZERO. The ONLY hope you had was establishing long-term good faith, trusted, mutually-respected working relationships with them in the hope over time you'd be able to work out a trial run at modifications and then pray none of you fucked it up.

 

But you guys have made it way more than clear you aren't having any of it and that the "cops" and "whores" who manage the park can go fuck themselves - cool, but the only ones who keep getting fucked with that approach, that resentment and that spite is you. Brilliant!!! All I can guess is the closure whining you've raised to a high art form just feels so good at this point you can't live without it.

 

So I'm out - out of cc.com, out of monitoring, out of coordinating early opens with the agencies, and hopefully out of earshot of the years of Feb 1st whining to come. I'm perfectly happy with my climbing alternatives during the closure and looking forward to getting out to Beacon. Which brings up a final comment. You guys really have no idea what I'm about, but let's put it this way, if I have less than a cordial time out there, or if I run into any more uncivil actions like the four times my DZ rap line has been cut (the last time below edge where it couldn't be seen) then we are all - myself included - going share in some seriously profound remorse. My advice, make your decisions wisely and leash your dogs as I'll be around, but beyond this post you'll never hear the word 'closure' from me again.

 

See ya...

 

 

[crimper]

No matter how you feel about Joseph (and I'm not here to defend his use of cc.com over the years, which he knows I disapprove of) cutting his rope is a scumbag move. If you encouraged someone to cut his rope, you are a scumbag. If you knew about it and said nothing to stop it, you are a scumbag. Just because somone is 60 or 70 years old doesn't make them right, or their methods defensible. You know who exactly who you are and what I'm talking about. Think for yourself and stop trying to impress other people.

 

I'm only writing because I had my bolts vandalized/chopped at the Drop Zone around 3-4 years ago, and I know who did it (or encouraged a younger climber eager to earn his approval to actually do it) because he took responsibility for the chopping and told me he "fucked up" during a time of "limited consciousness." So when I hear about more vandalism at the Drop Zone, I assume - and maybe I'm wrong, but I doubt it - that the same small cohort that chopped my bolts (scarring the rock on a spicy 10c with 3 bolts in 60 feet, making a scratched up area you can see from the trail - way to go, fellow beacon climber, i think of your idiocy every time i see the scar) is now spending their quality time on god's green earth chopping a fellow climber's rap line he uses to rope-solo a few pitches away from you and in peace.

 

I know we are better than this, let's start to act like it.

 

 

[stevetimetravlr]

Sorry, I'm not buying anyone chopped his rope once, let alone 4 times. Sounds like the same old typical accusatory psycho smoke screen bullshit.

[kevbone]

Beacon beacon beacon!!!!!!

[crimper]

Steve, that's a convenient way to ignore the larger issue i raised about our climbing community. Yeah, I'm still bitter that some of the guys who put up routes at the Drop Zone well after "me and my friends" had put up the first dozen or two routes there then decided to vandalize my route just to prove a point about who "owns" the rock: they had decreed that the Drop Zone must be "built" in their design, which was runout 5-9s with no bolts, headopinted once with tiny gear in 2009, but now in 2014 are overgrown with moss, and so there was no room for my the 2 bolts on my 10c. They even began to call it the Far Side, taking over the name! How territorial! (said group of course placed dozens of rap anchors even when chopping my lead bolts, and has since added lead bolts to their routes at the Drop Zone, just to really heighten the irony of chopping my lead bolts)

 

But of course this isn;t about the chopping of my bolts in 2009 or whatever this is about the passive aggressive vandalism that still lingers, it seems...

 

Anyway, I'm surprised you would simply piss on Joe again instead of engaging the issue I raised.

[Dennis H]

About time!!!

[stevetimetravlr]

Hey Brian, maybe just put your two bolts back in, it's a couple bolts. I've heard that tons of bolts have been chopped out there. The place IMO is kind of a nasty place to climb anyway, lots of broken glass, mossy and choosy. If I rcall correctly, I remember Jim or whoever it was saying they made a mistake in chopping your bolts back in the day if it's the same incident I am thinking of. I myself just climb, so I am not part of the ethics police unless it's something absurd, and I can't imagine that anyone really cares to much about the Dropzne/Farside.

As far as community, I think this forum is NOW a great place to discuss things like this. What's say you all you Dropzone/Farside fans and first ascentionists?

Where's that Bill Coe when you need him? Probably half way up Bacon right now, while I'm wallowing in the backwoods of Eastern Europe over a bad wifi connection. How was opening day at the Beaconwand? Let's all go climbing!!!!

[ivan]

1/15/14 - day 1 - what better way to mark mlk's berfday (and my inaugural beacon ascent of this foul year of our lord two-ought-fourteen) than to "climb to the mountain-top?"

 

the national wedder service promised portentous skies, a bold moon, a hero-ascent, but mike n' geoff n' i settled for much less - cloud murk on the evening drive - a shaft of bright sun at cope horn, than all gone, sucked down into a cloud vortex, a river of moist, cold air motoring on down to portland

 

the rock super slobbery gob-smacked wet n' drippy n' perspiring beads of putrid moss-muck - soon full dark and just cans of flowery beer n' bike-bottles of sweet-wine to pass the time waiting for one warrior-poet-god-king or t'other to Put the Rope up there

 

to the new season and to the storms that will not settle until they have shit all they have to shat upon us!

 

1/21/14 - day 2 - my first solo lap of 2014 and the first maybe for me ever in the month dedicated to that dolorous diety, janus, the god of fortune n' gaudy expectations for the gaunt future - exam week for these ersatz earthlings, they don't seem to deem it of much import - quaint conversations with a curious few in my office hours, some felicitous graduates even stopped on by, delaying me w/o thought as the daylight ticked away and we dispensed w/ the troubled history of the Temple Mount

 

a savage head-wind on the drive in - not warp 9 mind you, but we've definitely made the jump to light-speed - the big bulk of the durango barely making head-way it seemed - the lot w/ two rides of climbers, and good-ole kenny one of them - i froze as i fumbled into my high-tech war-gear and spritned down the trail, croc-shod, just to stay warm - trees down all over the place - folks bailing down young warriors - kenny n' arent just casting off up the corner, all glistening dry n' clambery after last week's sodden adventure

 

climb 50 feet to a stance - thrust fingers against my bare belly to bring back the feeling, then 50 feet more - blasted through the distance w/ dispatch, eschewing uprising n' opting for the longer exit - both peregrines flapping n' screeching n' flyign off as i surprised them at the top by the pin, me deep under 3 layers of hat, head down and figuring what's the worst case scenario should they dive-bomb me?

 

happy, happy day - 1 month of winter dispensed with and more sun for a good long pull still predicted - half the school year done with and we head for the long downhill that bowls us merrily out into summer in the Big Ditch n' anything else mis amigos can propose for diversion

 

1/22 - day 3 - lap 2 of the new year - beacon all alone, nary a soul on the south side - solid grey gloom all day in camas but sunbreaks and inspirations on the drive in, cooled by camels n' a can of rolling rock - cold but much less wind than yesterday, the ranger flag barely flapping - an uneventful ascent n' an easy ramble on down, discoursing w/ a few tourists n' sopping up the views of the dappled river n' dim, setting sun

 

1/24 - day 4 - truly, a january hat-trick, such a stretch of weather so close to our tragic shut-down i can't recollect - warp 5 winds at cape horn, helm's a lee and shuddering at the next road-cut, truly wing n' a prayer conditions on the drive-in

 

kenny's ride in the lot, i crawl into my war-kit n' cast off, scudding down the trail w/ my top-masts unfurled, screeching down the thing before my tits freeze off - race up the corner in the hurricane wind, my hands down my pants every half-pitch, hand-job from a stranger it feels in the forceful breeze - my breath grabbed from my lungs before i can suck it in, panting

 

beers n' butts down by the boat-launch, fuckers passed out in the sweat-lodge again, rocked by the endless gales gusting over from the island - plans to make plans w/ adam n' kenny n' geoff for the what-have-you on hood soon hereafter

 

can this mad season manage to continue?

 

1/31 - day 5 - the dying day, beacon about to be banned and gone till the sun of summer grows high in the western sky - i dreamed that this stretch of winter-dry might linger, but it was not to last- rain all week, not a chance of a solo - friday the final desperate hope, the signs all set to be cemented into place - fuck off you unfeeling fumbling freak

 

no partner could i prepare - mike too molested - kenny contaminated - adam all a'hoo - so i drove out in the growing dusk, gunmetal gray all around, a fresh pack of poison n' a wondrous hip-flask of you-know-what - i lusted that i might arrive to an ecological aberration, a monstrous monolith undamaged by the falling damps of late; slut-dream i deemed, and damned so it turned out - the lot besodden n' me too it seemed - no courage at all to contend w/ the dripping cliffs - i settled instead for a romp up the retard trail, rope in tail

 

a pleasant rappel it shoulda been, but my belay device turned bitchy, and i tossed it into the trash-heap after - hurk n' jerk n' force-feed, the 'biner all besmirched w/ rope-shakings - a smoke n'a few-fingers on the ledge, then continued on down, the day dying and the golden globe breaking out in bold shafts of light at the last minute - finally at the base, in the dark, i trod along the way w/ bottle n' soaked in the scene so soon to be denied - up the trail at last, i found the preternatural phucks had already posted their signs closing the fucker down!

 

to summer, may it soon come!

 

2/22 - day 6 - calm n' chilly - snow in the trenches of the north side - busted burritoes - bad black-ass coffee - a ringing crescendo of a half-baked hangover - siege tactics - lawn chair - hammering - beer(s) n' satan smoke - red rover red rover - calm at the end of day

 

bryan hanging on the big-green-big-boi

drippy drippy drippy

crept back into the deeps of the glistening cave

 

3/8 - day viii - a pre-pour cascade chevauchee - mike, the jovian giant, rides the road to greet me there - weeds and whimperings - a gift of gods, road-smokes - the sodden trail so soon it climbs - waterfalls past whispering volumes - the cobble-stone cliffs a proper place to puff a butt n' down the dregs of harsh ales - rain upon the return to the road - vivian savaging the scofflaws

 

3/16 - 9th day - a sunday stolt - sad rain predicted, but not so grim it ended - geoff at camas right at the crack of nine, me awoke on the couch, gob-smacked, not a few minutes before - reborn in beer stench and debasement

 

went adventurneering - hiking up to the top, then scrambled down to big trees n' fixed a big long rope to a tree, rapped down, conquered n' crooned, then jugged back up - fun times - the big old log sent down 2 falls ago found all bound-up tight to a tree anchor - mental lines drone over dreary block-land

 

later did some adventure rapping down the west side, then clambered back up the alpine route to 3-tree ledge, finishing w/ a funky-sad rap for geoff back down to the ground

 

4/25-27 - days 10-12 - the long awaited hollabahoo - infernal plans pondered n proceeded upon even as mudder-earth pissed relentlessly all over them - friday mike, geoff n' i hike 6 ropes up to the summit, hop the railing, n' fix from there to the ground - bursts of sunshine here and there - the work quickly over and we head over, swingers-style, 3 of us in 3 cars to discover the whereabouts of the secret rebel base

 

a fine evenign drinking all kinds of things as the rain came and went - yer lebowski lebowski, etc, etc

 

saturday not so terrible at first w/ sun and scudding clouds - strangers assemble - the party grows by leaps and bounds - eventually a few of us head off to jug the lines - some wierd spots here and there and i nearly killed unknown tourists by kicking off a few good sized stones - at the summit i drank a beer than promptly damn-near broke my ankle by turning over on it while walking down the stairs and dodging the tourons - sigh...

 

saturday evening too epic to attempt description - dogs n' kids, raffels, ole'opdycke, speeches and salutations, the savage post-amniotic scene splayed out - rain builds upon rain, the beers go deeper and deeper, and soon the day rode out of me

 

sunday really quite nasty w/ wind and sheets of steel rain - a slow stumble-fuck back to the summit after breaking camp n' making our farewells - felt tempted to turn back from the recovery operation at the moment of truth but luckily geoff dissappeared over the edge and it was too late - not too tough to get it all back, thanks to help from geoff n' dave - strong weather once we hit earth, but then the weekend was over and it was time for wine n' school work n' hbo-fare

 

happy 70th old man

 

may day! #13 for the year (holy sheeit muslims, should i've known that, i'd a been a mit more skert!)

 

lovely wedder, wicked hawt for spring - crunchy moss - many tourons - birds bitching n' circling n' crying all over the place

 

hum along fellow travelers, hum along

 

Stand up, damned of the Earth

Stand up, prisoners of starvation

Reason thunders in its volcano

This is the eruption of the end.

Of the past let us make a clean slate

Enslaved masses, stand up, stand up.

The world is about to change its foundation

We are nothing, let us be all.

This is the final struggle

Let us group together, and tomorrow

The Internationale

Will be the human race.

 

5/7 - #14 - a rare may-day 24-hour wedder-window - bright sunshine n' light wind - the river runs full - lions abound, loll n' leap, embayed, the waves lap over them - damn near cock-blocked by bastard choo-choos way back at the dawn of day

 

5/12 - #15 - piercing sun, a soothing, steady breeze, and balmy skies - no time for cheap heroics, just an hour between bothersome obligations - a quick blitz and off i wandered - beautiful, sloe-eyed ladies on the trail, so very nice

 

5/14 - day sixteen - hell of an evening for a hike, the lot stale and empty near dusk - a bitter day of bickering w/ the man and waging holy jihad on behalf of my perplexed polity - all is fair in love n' hate, no?

 

5/15-6 - days 17-18 - awful bickering w/ vicious bastards across an itty-bitty table followed by lunar ambulations followed by a day of drooling, dumb-founded by dipshits, done at last with a pleasant stroll up a sunny trail into the soothing sky

 

5/20 - number 19 - after strong storms sunday, all is clear and bright and dryish and balmy - a billion boaters sucking up the salmon on the main channel, no doubt the source of the strong salmon stank in the bathroom - the n side in groovy, groovy conditions - peregrines pirouetting n' screeching piss off despite their confusion on which side exactly they have for their private privations - summer's breathe subsuming all

 

5/22 - day 20 - strange storms brewing, vexing vapors rise and seethe at the setting sun - a quick run up the well-worn trail and back for politics n' pissing matches before the working-man's day was even done - a mere month till the sweet solstice, then california dreams and soon that southern bitch will be blossomed-up n' street-legal once more?

 

6/4 - blackjaaaack! - choking, guttering, drowning in my own bile doing battle w/ these bilious bastards - no space to see, no air to breathe - jesus christ man, the weasels have built condos 'round this mother-fucker they've been camped out here so long. fled in horror in the middle of a meeting and slummed me way out, nipping on luke-warm stale keg-beer on the short cruise. a quick rattle on up, sleazy tourists in tattered tee's abiding everywhere. will it never be dawn?

 

D-Day, 70 years on - Day Double Dos for the Year - geoff rolls into the bk a tad late, all tricked out in his curvaceous corvette, me sucking down rapidly warming swill in the shade and puzzling over my biblical tome regarding the life n' times of that cornelius vanderbilt motherfucker

 

a true rare day, how often do you climb something new at beacon? last year i saw them old fellers working out their labor of love near the spike route and today was finally the day to give it a go - wow, what a wonderfully unusual bit of stone it saunters up - the second pitch the most slab-tacular out at beacon - amazingly crisp and clean rock w/ millions of microscopic curious cross-hatched horizontal lines that make smearing oh-so-sweet - geoff got that lead and suffered for it - i followed and couldn't figure out how not to cheat at one point in wierd pod, feet all askew and off-line

 

we rambled on up to the trail after a sesh at rancho relaxo - those upper pitches so super stupid it's a wonder i do them even once a year - oceans of oak, and me in shorts like i've not an iota of an idea what the fuck i'm at

 

3 days of damned seniors left to suffer through - the rock n' roll types clearing out the pipes and set-ready to start belting out "schooooooooooooool's ooooooooooout foooooor daa suuuuuuuuuummmmmmmer!!!!!!!"

 

6/11 - day 23 - mighty prime - another day of gentle ambulations, alcohol-adled, on the north side on sublime slab routes i'd not yet done - sailed out swiftly in the hms revenge w/ first mate swabbie silverman - fun n' games n' all that shit, up-down-n-all-around - allergy attacks for the lot of us n' shaping out to be a shitty season for the mozzies too ta boot - a sleepy drive home, my all slumber-stupid after awaking in the awful dawn to get the familias on that far-flying plane on back to the old dominion - 3 more work days till we say fukit to the welter-weight blues

7/14 - die XXIV - opening n' bastille day bitches, there's new baguette-muff on the field - rumors were of a rock wicked-hot, yet arrived mid-afternoon to cool temps n' pleasant breezes - shot up young warriors w/ geoff n' saw no sign of that kurious kev-bone feller, yet i was sure he'd have been up n' at it long afore we arrived - jim n' kenny did the corner about the same time and was glorious to see ole'jim giddup the route w/o a hitch despite his big what-have-you of a few months back - beers n' bullshiting at the ledge, not a fucking cigarette between the whole dirty lot of us - i felt so healthy and like a herpes-ridden cock-handler at the same time

[ivan]

1/15/14 - day 1 - what better way to mark mlk's berfday (and my inaugural beacon ascent of this foul year of our lord two-ought-fourteen) than to "climb to the mountain-top?"

 

the national wedder service promised portentous skies, a bold moon, a hero-ascent, but mike n' geoff n' i settled for much less - cloud murk on the evening drive - a shaft of bright sun at cope horn, than all gone, sucked down into a cloud vortex, a river of moist, cold air motoring on down to portland

 

the rock super slobbery gob-smacked wet n' drippy n' perspiring beads of putrid moss-muck - soon full dark and just cans of flowery beer n' bike-bottles of sweet-wine to pass the time waiting for one warrior-poet-god-king or t'other to Put the Rope up there

 

to the new season and to the storms that will not settle until they have shit all they have to shat upon us!

 

1/21/14 - day 2 - my first solo lap of 2014 and the first maybe for me ever in the month dedicated to that dolorous diety, janus, the god of fortune n' gaudy expectations for the gaunt future - exam week for these ersatz earthlings, they don't seem to deem it of much import - quaint conversations with a curious few in my office hours, some felicitous graduates even stopped on by, delaying me w/o thought as the daylight ticked away and we dispensed w/ the troubled history of the Temple Mount

 

a savage head-wind on the drive in - not warp 9 mind you, but we've definitely made the jump to light-speed - the big bulk of the durango barely making head-way it seemed - the lot w/ two rides of climbers, and good-ole kenny one of them - i froze as i fumbled into my high-tech war-gear and spritned down the trail, croc-shod, just to stay warm - trees down all over the place - folks bailing down young warriors - kenny n' arent just casting off up the corner, all glistening dry n' clambery after last week's sodden adventure

 

climb 50 feet to a stance - thrust fingers against my bare belly to bring back the feeling, then 50 feet more - blasted through the distance w/ dispatch, eschewing uprising n' opting for the longer exit - both peregrines flapping n' screeching n' flyign off as i surprised them at the top by the pin, me deep under 3 layers of hat, head down and figuring what's the worst case scenario should they dive-bomb me?

 

happy, happy day - 1 month of winter dispensed with and more sun for a good long pull still predicted - half the school year done with and we head for the long downhill that bowls us merrily out into summer in the Big Ditch n' anything else mis amigos can propose for diversion

 

1/22 - day 3 - lap 2 of the new year - beacon all alone, nary a soul on the south side - solid grey gloom all day in camas but sunbreaks and inspirations on the drive in, cooled by camels n' a can of rolling rock - cold but much less wind than yesterday, the ranger flag barely flapping - an uneventful ascent n' an easy ramble on down, discoursing w/ a few tourists n' sopping up the views of the dappled river n' dim, setting sun

 

1/24 - day 4 - truly, a january hat-trick, such a stretch of weather so close to our tragic shut-down i can't recollect - warp 5 winds at cape horn, helm's a lee and shuddering at the next road-cut, truly wing n' a prayer conditions on the drive-in

 

kenny's ride in the lot, i crawl into my war-kit n' cast off, scudding down the trail w/ my top-masts unfurled, screeching down the thing before my tits freeze off - race up the corner in the hurricane wind, my hands down my pants every half-pitch, hand-job from a stranger it feels in the forceful breeze - my breath grabbed from my lungs before i can suck it in, panting

 

beers n' butts down by the boat-launch, fuckers passed out in the sweat-lodge again, rocked by the endless gales gusting over from the island - plans to make plans w/ adam n' kenny n' geoff for the what-have-you on hood soon hereafter

 

can this mad season manage to continue?

 

1/31 - day 5 - the dying day, beacon about to be banned and gone till the sun of summer grows high in the western sky - i dreamed that this stretch of winter-dry might linger, but it was not to last- rain all week, not a chance of a solo - friday the final desperate hope, the signs all set to be cemented into place - fuck off you unfeeling fumbling freak

 

no partner could i prepare - mike too molested - kenny contaminated - adam all a'hoo - so i drove out in the growing dusk, gunmetal gray all around, a fresh pack of poison n' a wondrous hip-flask of you-know-what - i lusted that i might arrive to an ecological aberration, a monstrous monolith undamaged by the falling damps of late; slut-dream i deemed, and damned so it turned out - the lot besodden n' me too it seemed - no courage at all to contend w/ the dripping cliffs - i settled instead for a romp up the retard trail, rope in tail

 

a pleasant rappel it shoulda been, but my belay device turned bitchy, and i tossed it into the trash-heap after - hurk n' jerk n' force-feed, the 'biner all besmirched w/ rope-shakings - a smoke n'a few-fingers on the ledge, then continued on down, the day dying and the golden globe breaking out in bold shafts of light at the last minute - finally at the base, in the dark, i trod along the way w/ bottle n' soaked in the scene so soon to be denied - up the trail at last, i found the preternatural phucks had already posted their signs closing the fucker down!

 

to summer, may it soon come!

 

2/22 - day 6 - calm n' chilly - snow in the trenches of the north side - busted burritoes - bad black-ass coffee - a ringing crescendo of a half-baked hangover - siege tactics - lawn chair - hammering - beer(s) n' satan smoke - red rover red rover - calm at the end of day

 

bryan hanging on the big-green-big-boi

drippy drippy drippy

crept back into the deeps of the glistening cave

 

3/8 - day viii - a pre-pour cascade chevauchee - mike, the jovian giant, rides the road to greet me there - weeds and whimperings - a gift of gods, road-smokes - the sodden trail so soon it climbs - waterfalls past whispering volumes - the cobble-stone cliffs a proper place to puff a butt n' down the dregs of harsh ales - rain upon the return to the road - vivian savaging the scofflaws

 

3/16 - 9th day - a sunday stolt - sad rain predicted, but not so grim it ended - geoff at camas right at the crack of nine, me awoke on the couch, gob-smacked, not a few minutes before - reborn in beer stench and debasement

 

went adventurneering - hiking up to the top, then scrambled down to big trees n' fixed a big long rope to a tree, rapped down, conquered n' crooned, then jugged back up - fun times - the big old log sent down 2 falls ago found all bound-up tight to a tree anchor - mental lines drone over dreary block-land

 

later did some adventure rapping down the west side, then clambered back up the alpine route to 3-tree ledge, finishing w/ a funky-sad rap for geoff back down to the ground

 

4/25-27 - days 10-12 - the long awaited hollabahoo - infernal plans pondered n proceeded upon even as mudder-earth pissed relentlessly all over them - friday mike, geoff n' i hike 6 ropes up to the summit, hop the railing, n' fix from there to the ground - bursts of sunshine here and there - the work quickly over and we head over, swingers-style, 3 of us in 3 cars to discover the whereabouts of the secret rebel base

 

a fine evenign drinking all kinds of things as the rain came and went - yer lebowski lebowski, etc, etc

 

saturday not so terrible at first w/ sun and scudding clouds - strangers assemble - the party grows by leaps and bounds - eventually a few of us head off to jug the lines - some wierd spots here and there and i nearly killed unknown tourists by kicking off a few good sized stones - at the summit i drank a beer than promptly damn-near broke my ankle by turning over on it while walking down the stairs and dodging the tourons - sigh...

 

saturday evening too epic to attempt description - dogs n' kids, raffels, ole'opdycke, speeches and salutations, the savage post-amniotic scene splayed out - rain builds upon rain, the beers go deeper and deeper, and soon the day rode out of me

 

sunday really quite nasty w/ wind and sheets of steel rain - a slow stumble-fuck back to the summit after breaking camp n' making our farewells - felt tempted to turn back from the recovery operation at the moment of truth but luckily geoff dissappeared over the edge and it was too late - not too tough to get it all back, thanks to help from geoff n' dave - strong weather once we hit earth, but then the weekend was over and it was time for wine n' school work n' hbo-fare

 

happy 70th old man

 

may day! #13 for the year (holy sheeit muslims, should i've known that, i'd a been a mit more skert!)

 

lovely wedder, wicked hawt for spring - crunchy moss - many tourons - birds bitching n' circling n' crying all over the place

 

hum along fellow travelers, hum along

 

Stand up, damned of the Earth

Stand up, prisoners of starvation

Reason thunders in its volcano

This is the eruption of the end.

Of the past let us make a clean slate

Enslaved masses, stand up, stand up.

The world is about to change its foundation

We are nothing, let us be all.

This is the final struggle

Let us group together, and tomorrow

The Internationale

Will be the human race.

 

5/7 - #14 - a rare may-day 24-hour wedder-window - bright sunshine n' light wind - the river runs full - lions abound, loll n' leap, embayed, the waves lap over them - damn near cock-blocked by bastard choo-choos way back at the dawn of day

 

5/12 - #15 - piercing sun, a soothing, steady breeze, and balmy skies - no time for cheap heroics, just an hour between bothersome obligations - a quick blitz and off i wandered - beautiful, sloe-eyed ladies on the trail, so very nice

 

5/14 - day sixteen - hell of an evening for a hike, the lot stale and empty near dusk - a bitter day of bickering w/ the man and waging holy jihad on behalf of my perplexed polity - all is fair in love n' hate, no?

 

5/15-6 - days 17-18 - awful bickering w/ vicious bastards across an itty-bitty table followed by lunar ambulations followed by a day of drooling, dumb-founded by dipshits, done at last with a pleasant stroll up a sunny trail into the soothing sky

 

5/20 - number 19 - after strong storms sunday, all is clear and bright and dryish and balmy - a billion boaters sucking up the salmon on the main channel, no doubt the source of the strong salmon stank in the bathroom - the n side in groovy, groovy conditions - peregrines pirouetting n' screeching piss off despite their confusion on which side exactly they have for their private privations - summer's breathe subsuming all

 

5/22 - day 20 - strange storms brewing, vexing vapors rise and seethe at the setting sun - a quick run up the well-worn trail and back for politics n' pissing matches before the working-man's day was even done - a mere month till the sweet solstice, then california dreams and soon that southern bitch will be blossomed-up n' street-legal once more?

 

6/4 - blackjaaaack! - choking, guttering, drowning in my own bile doing battle w/ these bilious bastards - no space to see, no air to breathe - jesus christ man, the weasels have built condos 'round this mother-fucker they've been camped out here so long. fled in horror in the middle of a meeting and slummed me way out, nipping on luke-warm stale keg-beer on the short cruise. a quick rattle on up, sleazy tourists in tattered tee's abiding everywhere. will it never be dawn?

 

D-Day, 70 years on - Day Double Dos for the Year - geoff rolls into the bk a tad late, all tricked out in his curvaceous corvette, me sucking down rapidly warming swill in the shade and puzzling over my biblical tome regarding the life n' times of that cornelius vanderbilt motherfucker

 

a true rare day, how often do you climb something new at beacon? last year i saw them old fellers working out their labor of love near the spike route and today was finally the day to give it a go - wow, what a wonderfully unusual bit of stone it saunters up - the second pitch the most slab-tacular out at beacon - amazingly crisp and clean rock w/ millions of microscopic curious cross-hatched horizontal lines that make smearing oh-so-sweet - geoff got that lead and suffered for it - i followed and couldn't figure out how not to cheat at one point in wierd pod, feet all askew and off-line

 

we rambled on up to the trail after a sesh at rancho relaxo - those upper pitches so super stupid it's a wonder i do them even once a year - oceans of oak, and me in shorts like i've not an iota of an idea what the fuck i'm at

 

3 days of damned seniors left to suffer through - the rock n' roll types clearing out the pipes and set-ready to start belting out "schooooooooooooool's ooooooooooout foooooor daa suuuuuuuuuummmmmmmer!!!!!!!"

 

6/11 - day 23 - mighty prime - another day of gentle ambulations, alcohol-adled, on the north side on sublime slab routes i'd not yet done - sailed out swiftly in the hms revenge w/ first mate swabbie silverman - fun n' games n' all that shit, up-down-n-all-around - allergy attacks for the lot of us n' shaping out to be a shitty season for the mozzies too ta boot - a sleepy drive home, my all slumber-stupid after awaking in the awful dawn to get the familias on that far-flying plane on back to the old dominion - 3 more work days till we say fukit to the welter-weight blues

 

7/14 - die XXIV - opening n' bastille day bitches, there's new baguette-muff on the field - rumors were of a rock wicked-hot, yet arrived mid-afternoon to cool temps n' pleasant breezes - shot up young warriors w/ geoff n' saw no sign of that kurious kev-bone feller, yet i was sure he'd have been up n' at it long afore we arrived - jim n' kenny did the corner about the same time and was glorious to see ole'jim giddup the route w/o a hitch despite his big what-have-you of a few months back - beers n' bullshiting at the ledge, not a fucking cigarette between the whole dirty lot of us - i felt so healthy and like a herpes-ridden cock-handler at the same time

7/15 - day 25 - 20 years ago this night i finally got into the good graces of the woman i've been w/ ever since

 

dodd's w/ a spot of wind-surf'n in the morn w/ ben n' his boy, then afternoon jill's w/ kenny after a head-swim'n sesh out at the no-bo-trifecta w/ smoky jim, a new stranger n' plenty wierd - kevbone thrown'n down on the warrior - american teenage spirit permeating through the day - the no-bo circle complete - wine n' ginned up neighbors - a plan for the morrow crafted and curved to fit the needs of a world on the crest of a true and beautiful wave

[kevbone]

Young warriors was killer

[ivan]

1/15/14 - day 1 - what better way to mark mlk's berfday (and my inaugural beacon ascent of this foul year of our lord two-ought-fourteen) than to "climb to the mountain-top?"

 

the national wedder service promised portentous skies, a bold moon, a hero-ascent, but mike n' geoff n' i settled for much less - cloud murk on the evening drive - a shaft of bright sun at cope horn, than all gone, sucked down into a cloud vortex, a river of moist, cold air motoring on down to portland

 

the rock super slobbery gob-smacked wet n' drippy n' perspiring beads of putrid moss-muck - soon full dark and just cans of flowery beer n' bike-bottles of sweet-wine to pass the time waiting for one warrior-poet-god-king or t'other to Put the Rope up there

 

to the new season and to the storms that will not settle until they have shit all they have to shat upon us!

 

1/21/14 - day 2 - my first solo lap of 2014 and the first maybe for me ever in the month dedicated to that dolorous diety, janus, the god of fortune n' gaudy expectations for the gaunt future - exam week for these ersatz earthlings, they don't seem to deem it of much import - quaint conversations with a curious few in my office hours, some felicitous graduates even stopped on by, delaying me w/o thought as the daylight ticked away and we dispensed w/ the troubled history of the Temple Mount

 

a savage head-wind on the drive in - not warp 9 mind you, but we've definitely made the jump to light-speed - the big bulk of the durango barely making head-way it seemed - the lot w/ two rides of climbers, and good-ole kenny one of them - i froze as i fumbled into my high-tech war-gear and spritned down the trail, croc-shod, just to stay warm - trees down all over the place - folks bailing down young warriors - kenny n' arent just casting off up the corner, all glistening dry n' clambery after last week's sodden adventure

 

climb 50 feet to a stance - thrust fingers against my bare belly to bring back the feeling, then 50 feet more - blasted through the distance w/ dispatch, eschewing uprising n' opting for the longer exit - both peregrines flapping n' screeching n' flyign off as i surprised them at the top by the pin, me deep under 3 layers of hat, head down and figuring what's the worst case scenario should they dive-bomb me?

 

happy, happy day - 1 month of winter dispensed with and more sun for a good long pull still predicted - half the school year done with and we head for the long downhill that bowls us merrily out into summer in the Big Ditch n' anything else mis amigos can propose for diversion

 

1/22 - day 3 - lap 2 of the new year - beacon all alone, nary a soul on the south side - solid grey gloom all day in camas but sunbreaks and inspirations on the drive in, cooled by camels n' a can of rolling rock - cold but much less wind than yesterday, the ranger flag barely flapping - an uneventful ascent n' an easy ramble on down, discoursing w/ a few tourists n' sopping up the views of the dappled river n' dim, setting sun

 

1/24 - day 4 - truly, a january hat-trick, such a stretch of weather so close to our tragic shut-down i can't recollect - warp 5 winds at cape horn, helm's a lee and shuddering at the next road-cut, truly wing n' a prayer conditions on the drive-in

 

kenny's ride in the lot, i crawl into my war-kit n' cast off, scudding down the trail w/ my top-masts unfurled, screeching down the thing before my tits freeze off - race up the corner in the hurricane wind, my hands down my pants every half-pitch, hand-job from a stranger it feels in the forceful breeze - my breath grabbed from my lungs before i can suck it in, panting

 

beers n' butts down by the boat-launch, fuckers passed out in the sweat-lodge again, rocked by the endless gales gusting over from the island - plans to make plans w/ adam n' kenny n' geoff for the what-have-you on hood soon hereafter

 

can this mad season manage to continue?

 

1/31 - day 5 - the dying day, beacon about to be banned and gone till the sun of summer grows high in the western sky - i dreamed that this stretch of winter-dry might linger, but it was not to last- rain all week, not a chance of a solo - friday the final desperate hope, the signs all set to be cemented into place - fuck off you unfeeling fumbling freak

 

no partner could i prepare - mike too molested - kenny contaminated - adam all a'hoo - so i drove out in the growing dusk, gunmetal gray all around, a fresh pack of poison n' a wondrous hip-flask of you-know-what - i lusted that i might arrive to an ecological aberration, a monstrous monolith undamaged by the falling damps of late; slut-dream i deemed, and damned so it turned out - the lot besodden n' me too it seemed - no courage at all to contend w/ the dripping cliffs - i settled instead for a romp up the retard trail, rope in tail

 

a pleasant rappel it shoulda been, but my belay device turned bitchy, and i tossed it into the trash-heap after - hurk n' jerk n' force-feed, the 'biner all besmirched w/ rope-shakings - a smoke n'a few-fingers on the ledge, then continued on down, the day dying and the golden globe breaking out in bold shafts of light at the last minute - finally at the base, in the dark, i trod along the way w/ bottle n' soaked in the scene so soon to be denied - up the trail at last, i found the preternatural phucks had already posted their signs closing the fucker down!

 

to summer, may it soon come!

 

2/22 - day 6 - calm n' chilly - snow in the trenches of the north side - busted burritoes - bad black-ass coffee - a ringing crescendo of a half-baked hangover - siege tactics - lawn chair - hammering - beer(s) n' satan smoke - red rover red rover - calm at the end of day

 

bryan hanging on the big-green-big-boi

drippy drippy drippy

crept back into the deeps of the glistening cave

 

3/8 - day viii - a pre-pour cascade chevauchee - mike, the jovian giant, rides the road to greet me there - weeds and whimperings - a gift of gods, road-smokes - the sodden trail so soon it climbs - waterfalls past whispering volumes - the cobble-stone cliffs a proper place to puff a butt n' down the dregs of harsh ales - rain upon the return to the road - vivian savaging the scofflaws

 

3/16 - 9th day - a sunday stolt - sad rain predicted, but not so grim it ended - geoff at camas right at the crack of nine, me awoke on the couch, gob-smacked, not a few minutes before - reborn in beer stench and debasement

 

went adventurneering - hiking up to the top, then scrambled down to big trees n' fixed a big long rope to a tree, rapped down, conquered n' crooned, then jugged back up - fun times - the big old log sent down 2 falls ago found all bound-up tight to a tree anchor - mental lines drone over dreary block-land

 

later did some adventure rapping down the west side, then clambered back up the alpine route to 3-tree ledge, finishing w/ a funky-sad rap for geoff back down to the ground

 

4/25-27 - days 10-12 - the long awaited hollabahoo - infernal plans pondered n proceeded upon even as mudder-earth pissed relentlessly all over them - friday mike, geoff n' i hike 6 ropes up to the summit, hop the railing, n' fix from there to the ground - bursts of sunshine here and there - the work quickly over and we head over, swingers-style, 3 of us in 3 cars to discover the whereabouts of the secret rebel base

 

a fine evenign drinking all kinds of things as the rain came and went - yer lebowski lebowski, etc, etc

 

saturday not so terrible at first w/ sun and scudding clouds - strangers assemble - the party grows by leaps and bounds - eventually a few of us head off to jug the lines - some wierd spots here and there and i nearly killed unknown tourists by kicking off a few good sized stones - at the summit i drank a beer than promptly damn-near broke my ankle by turning over on it while walking down the stairs and dodging the tourons - sigh...

 

saturday evening too epic to attempt description - dogs n' kids, raffels, ole'opdycke, speeches and salutations, the savage post-amniotic scene splayed out - rain builds upon rain, the beers go deeper and deeper, and soon the day rode out of me

 

sunday really quite nasty w/ wind and sheets of steel rain - a slow stumble-fuck back to the summit after breaking camp n' making our farewells - felt tempted to turn back from the recovery operation at the moment of truth but luckily geoff dissappeared over the edge and it was too late - not too tough to get it all back, thanks to help from geoff n' dave - strong weather once we hit earth, but then the weekend was over and it was time for wine n' school work n' hbo-fare

 

happy 70th old man

 

may day! #13 for the year (holy sheeit muslims, should i've known that, i'd a been a mit more skert!)

 

lovely wedder, wicked hawt for spring - crunchy moss - many tourons - birds bitching n' circling n' crying all over the place

 

hum along fellow travelers, hum along

 

Stand up, damned of the Earth

Stand up, prisoners of starvation

Reason thunders in its volcano

This is the eruption of the end.

Of the past let us make a clean slate

Enslaved masses, stand up, stand up.

The world is about to change its foundation

We are nothing, let us be all.

This is the final struggle

Let us group together, and tomorrow

The Internationale

Will be the human race.

 

5/7 - #14 - a rare may-day 24-hour wedder-window - bright sunshine n' light wind - the river runs full - lions abound, loll n' leap, embayed, the waves lap over them - damn near cock-blocked by bastard choo-choos way back at the dawn of day

 

5/12 - #15 - piercing sun, a soothing, steady breeze, and balmy skies - no time for cheap heroics, just an hour between bothersome obligations - a quick blitz and off i wandered - beautiful, sloe-eyed ladies on the trail, so very nice

 

5/14 - day sixteen - hell of an evening for a hike, the lot stale and empty near dusk - a bitter day of bickering w/ the man and waging holy jihad on behalf of my perplexed polity - all is fair in love n' hate, no?

 

5/15-6 - days 17-18 - awful bickering w/ vicious bastards across an itty-bitty table followed by lunar ambulations followed by a day of drooling, dumb-founded by dipshits, done at last with a pleasant stroll up a sunny trail into the soothing sky

 

5/20 - number 19 - after strong storms sunday, all is clear and bright and dryish and balmy - a billion boaters sucking up the salmon on the main channel, no doubt the source of the strong salmon stank in the bathroom - the n side in groovy, groovy conditions - peregrines pirouetting n' screeching piss off despite their confusion on which side exactly they have for their private privations - summer's breathe subsuming all

 

5/22 - day 20 - strange storms brewing, vexing vapors rise and seethe at the setting sun - a quick run up the well-worn trail and back for politics n' pissing matches before the working-man's day was even done - a mere month till the sweet solstice, then california dreams and soon that southern bitch will be blossomed-up n' street-legal once more?

 

6/4 - blackjaaaack! - choking, guttering, drowning in my own bile doing battle w/ these bilious bastards - no space to see, no air to breathe - jesus christ man, the weasels have built condos 'round this mother-fucker they've been camped out here so long. fled in horror in the middle of a meeting and slummed me way out, nipping on luke-warm stale keg-beer on the short cruise. a quick rattle on up, sleazy tourists in tattered tee's abiding everywhere. will it never be dawn?

 

D-Day, 70 years on - Day Double Dos for the Year - geoff rolls into the bk a tad late, all tricked out in his curvaceous corvette, me sucking down rapidly warming swill in the shade and puzzling over my biblical tome regarding the life n' times of that cornelius vanderbilt motherfucker

 

a true rare day, how often do you climb something new at beacon? last year i saw them old fellers working out their labor of love near the spike route and today was finally the day to give it a go - wow, what a wonderfully unusual bit of stone it saunters up - the second pitch the most slab-tacular out at beacon - amazingly crisp and clean rock w/ millions of microscopic curious cross-hatched horizontal lines that make smearing oh-so-sweet - geoff got that lead and suffered for it - i followed and couldn't figure out how not to cheat at one point in wierd pod, feet all askew and off-line

 

we rambled on up to the trail after a sesh at rancho relaxo - those upper pitches so super stupid it's a wonder i do them even once a year - oceans of oak, and me in shorts like i've not an iota of an idea what the fuck i'm at

 

3 days of damned seniors left to suffer through - the rock n' roll types clearing out the pipes and set-ready to start belting out "schooooooooooooool's ooooooooooout foooooor daa suuuuuuuuuummmmmmmer!!!!!!!"

 

6/11 - day 23 - mighty prime - another day of gentle ambulations, alcohol-adled, on the north side on sublime slab routes i'd not yet done - sailed out swiftly in the hms revenge w/ first mate swabbie silverman - fun n' games n' all that shit, up-down-n-all-around - allergy attacks for the lot of us n' shaping out to be a shitty season for the mozzies too ta boot - a sleepy drive home, my all slumber-stupid after awaking in the awful dawn to get the familias on that far-flying plane on back to the old dominion - 3 more work days till we say fukit to the welter-weight blues

 

7/14 - die XXIV - opening n' bastille day bitches, there's new baguette-muff on the field - rumors were of a rock wicked-hot, yet arrived mid-afternoon to cool temps n' pleasant breezes - shot up young warriors w/ geoff n' saw no sign of that kurious kev-bone feller, yet i was sure he'd have been up n' at it long afore we arrived - jim n' kenny did the corner about the same time and was glorious to see ole'jim giddup the route w/o a hitch despite his big what-have-you of a few months back - beers n' bullshiting at the ledge, not a fucking cigarette between the whole dirty lot of us - i felt so healthy and like a herpes-ridden cock-handler at the same time

 

7/15 - day 25 - 20 years ago this night i finally got into the good graces of the woman i've been w/ ever since

 

dodd's w/ a spot of wind-surf'n in the morn w/ ben n' his boy, then afternoon jill's w/ kenny after a head-swim'n sesh out at the no-bo-trifecta w/ smoky jim, a new stranger n' plenty wierd - kevbone thrown'n down on the warrior - american teenage spirit permeating through the day - the no-bo circle complete - wine n' ginned up neighbors - a plan for the morrow crafted and curved to fit the needs of a world on the crest of a true and beautiful wave

7/16 - #26 - last day alone for the summer - woke in fog and tempest in the mid-morning - sleep w/ dogs, wake w/ fleas, confirmed - wine n' breakfast n' tidying up - long pull to bonneville by 1 to fetch young kenneth - lightning ascent of warriors and good fun in the breeze n' shade - down just in time to sprint out to pdx to bring the magic home - gardening n' gabbing - pizza n' parlor tricks - mid-summer satisfaction

[christophbenells]

did right gull on wednesday, great fun as usual, last pitch through the trees on se corner in the dark.

 

do they ever lock the gate on the hikers trail?

[denalidave]

did right gull on wednesday, great fun as usual, last pitch through the trees on se corner in the dark.

 

do they ever lock the gate on the hikers trail?

Sometimes they lock it for Fourth of July or New Years to keep firework toting folk off, but otherwise, they rarely lock it. I put some grass blades in the lock to see if they did and they stayed there for many months after I put them in...

[ivan]

been many, many years since i've seen that gate closed - my personal zombie apocalypse plan involves that gate and a pair of bolt-cutters

[eldiente]

You guys still think fixed pins are a good idea for pro out there?

 

http://www.bolt-products.com/Glue-inBoltDesign.htm

 

"A piton can only be trusted on the day it was placed and only the climber who placed can give an opinion on its reliability, anything else is only a guess.Reports of pitons found on the ground below climbs or being removed by hand within a few years of placing are commonplace and give a fair indication of their unreliability, as does the number of serious and often fatal accidents involvingin-situ pitons."

 

 

 

[ivan]

lead falls on any pin scare me, that's why i always pull on them instead

 

 

[ivan]

"...a 5/16" Lost Arrow up to its eye in a horizontal granite crack certainly is a fine thing. It only came out when the rock under it started to break up and held over 31kN. In the direct pull tests it was doing well at 19kN when the crack failed totally and certainly would have been much better in if the rock had been stronger."

[pink]

You guys still think fixed pins are a good idea for pro out there?

 

http://www.bolt-products.com/Glue-inBoltDesign.htm

 

"A piton can only be trusted on the day it was placed and only the climber who placed can give an opinion on its reliability, anything else is only a guess.Reports of pitons found on the ground below climbs or being removed by hand within a few years of placing are commonplace and give a fair indication of their unreliability, as does the number of serious and often fatal accidents involvingin-situ pitons."

 

 

 

 

who are you referring to when you say "you guy's" ?

 

 

[LostCamKenny]

You guys still think fixed pins are a good idea for pro out there?

 

http://www.bolt-products.com/Glue-inBoltDesign.htm

 

"A piton can only be trusted on the day it was placed and only the climber who placed can give an opinion on its reliability, anything else is only a guess.Reports of pitons found on the ground below climbs or being removed by hand within a few years of placing are commonplace and give a fair indication of their unreliability, as does the number of serious and often fatal accidents involvingin-situ pitons."

 

 

Don't trust em? Don't clip em. There. That was easy.