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kevbone
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2017

 

1/28 - grim indeed, so deep into this foul year of our dear lord Trump, the 1st of his name, blessed be his orange-mane, and yet i'd not made it to beacon to bare my mangled soul?

 

many things have passed, most of them tragic - what can they matter against a backboard so bleak?

 

much snow n' ice this month - work all ahoo - the good country on the verge of a solid-gold cunt taking control - what can you do?

 

the silverman crew in camas not too early in the morn, me emerged from my overnight couch-nap n' crawling in w/ a bit of a cloud-fuck hovering over my head

 

the typical chuckles n' cheerful banter backed with chutzpah as we wandered back east through the growing wind n' wicked glowing snow, not knowing what is adling toward us all (and eager)

 

yarg, the ranger in the lot, w/ the all too familiar yack-yack-yack

 

the corner was the call, and the walk down had me all grinning - snow the whole way, my boots fortuitously in the car, and a snow-pole too

 

curious indeed - can't recall the last time i tumbled towards the corner in this late winter season n' was skunked by some new comers, but sure as shit, there they were - battle-ground bryan n' his boi cluster-fucking their way up the rather wintry first pitch - i cracked open a beer n' waxed philosophic, but my crew grew cranky, and soon we were on the tracks n' headed west for a true circumnavigation

 

the labyrinth was the call, on the logical assumption the east wind would be more merciful on the west side, though it wasn't - we wound our way there n' kicked in our place among the snow and the oak - kyle carried us up there as we froze n' fretted, then we continued our hill ascent through the cluster-fucked cold n' fuckered off west to near the boat launch

 

had a beer n' some failed-fire laffs, then some redneck hijinx in the snowy parking lot, then that was it - the day done amidst the wreck of dogs n' burgundy n' bitter embers of this unctuous underworld...

 

 

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:yoda: Told ye Silver Bullet my luck has been wrung out, verily nothing remains of a lucky larry but an OLD GIMP of atrophied muscles, arthritis, pinched nerves, and Gray cells turned plant matter. And I doth declined being yarded behind as token, alas no smok'in, anchor to rock et al.

 

Not to be unslung, I gourded him on, take ye wizened young slayer, Ivan the Tailor of Rhyme, with Grog full head, full hot air ahead! Alas and cube squared, verily, it turned out bust, as all things are dust. Verily, turn tall tales out of snails we must! Hunker into down feathers, dreaming of fair maiden nethers. :yawn:

 

 

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  • 2 weeks later...
  • 2 weeks later...

 

 

Awesome to see that the annual "Seasonal Beacon disorder" seems much diminished this year. Old Jim Anglin was certain that the only cure was a decent road trip. I believe he was correct: as usual. Good stuff Timetraveler! I too just came back from a short Red Rocks trip with wife and son. 68-70 degrees down there. The south facing walls were almost too warm. Come back and it's snow/rain and 40. Harsh stuff back here.

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  • 1 month later...

i'd dig it...but i got smith plans already :(

 

kee-rist, was out there the other day just for some hiking and the whole base area is crazy - most be about 300 meters worth of police-line tape strung up in all the trees...

 

pretty certain it's still only seen one solo ascent so far, if'n yer looking to make history :)

 

would dig on goign back there another weekend if you want...

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  • 1 month later...

the north and west sides are, boy-o, but not the s side :( gonna be out there sunday, should you wish to fuck w/ stone-soup (i think you'd dig it - certainly ain't simple free climbing) - most of the classic n side routes will be too wet

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2017

 

1/28 - grim indeed, so deep into this foul year of our dear lord Trump, the 1st of his name, blessed be his orange-mane, and yet i'd not made it to beacon to bare my mangled soul?

 

many things have passed, most of them tragic - what can they matter against a backboard so bleak?

 

much snow n' ice this month - work all ahoo - the good country on the verge of a solid-gold cunt taking control - what can you do?

 

the silverman crew in camas not too early in the morn, me emerged from my overnight couch-nap n' crawling in w/ a bit of a cloud-fuck hovering over my head

 

the typical chuckles n' cheerful banter backed with chutzpah as we wandered back east through the growing wind n' wicked glowing snow, not knowing what is adling toward us all (and eager)

 

yarg, the ranger in the lot, w/ the all too familiar yack-yack-yack

 

the corner was the call, and the walk down had me all grinning - snow the whole way, my boots fortuitously in the car, and a snow-pole too

 

curious indeed - can't recall the last time i tumbled towards the corner in this late winter season n' was skunked by some new comers, but sure as shit, there they were - battle-ground bryan n' his boi cluster-fucking their way up the rather wintry first pitch - i cracked open a beer n' waxed philosophic, but my crew grew cranky, and soon we were on the tracks n' headed west for a true circumnavigation

 

the labyrinth was the call, on the logical assumption the east wind would be more merciful on the west side, though it wasn't - we wound our way there n' kicked in our place among the snow and the oak - kyle carried us up there as we froze n' fretted, then we continued our hill ascent through the cluster-fucked cold n' fuckered off west to near the boat launch

 

had a beer n' some failed-fire laffs, then some redneck hijinx in the snowy parking lot, then that was it - the day done amidst the wreck of dogs n' burgundy n' bitter embers of this unctuous underworld...

 

6/18 - jeebus, 6 months in the can and only my 2nd climbing trip to beacon for this foul year of our lord, 2017

 

fadder's day morning dawned foul in more ways than i care to cofvefe - mike gave me the big head-fake, biking bound for cape horn - so just geoff instead - the plan to get some jugging laps in to make tower more tolerable - he leads stone soup 1 while i contemplate the hms haunted house of my life burning to the water-line and just how wonderful maybe that might be

 

had fun tearing out 500 yards of police tape from the general vicinity of the parking lot ledge - didn't quite get it all - don't understand why whoever take down the old fixed line from the ledge as it would have made that enterprise much easier...

 

summer's here, squamish the plan for next week, assuming the canuckistani's allow us passage :)

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