Beacon

[KirkW]

 

 

And the rains haven't even started yet.

 

I hope you guys keep this trainwreck going. It's hilarious and kinda makes me want to start climbing again.

 

Not really. It'll be fun to read this winter when I'm not skiing though.

[pink]

 

 

mama's too busy watchin her stories, to pay no attention

 

 

[denalidave]

 

And the rains haven't even started yet.

 

I hope you guys keep this trainwreck going. It's hilarious and kinda makes me want to start climbing again.

 

Not really. It'll be fun to read this winter when I'm not skiing though.

As the Bacon Crumbles... Will Joe end up in fistacuffs with STT or Dennis? Will Boner get boned at LOLP? Will the Mayor, Jimmy O, finally eat the radio active fish from the Columbia River? Will Ivan ever stopped that f'n singing while fe-feeing? Will Pink solo Little Wing, again? Will LCK find his cam? Did Lucky Larry ever get "lucky" or will he revert back to Old Larry? Stay tuned for next episode of As the Bacon Crumbles. (Dun, dah, dun!)

[ivan]

anyone sampling the bacon tomorrow? got a couple hours before headign off to the beach again w/ the chilluns...

[geoff]

Meet you in Camas.

[ivan]

dunno - that might be a pm, but sure sounds a lot like what was out in the public forums already...violent threats are bullshit no matter where you post'em, i hope you'd agree?

 

party ledge round noon 2morrow for those who want to puff at the peace pipe and focus on the better things in life

[pink]

what if i don't agree huh?!?!?!?!?!

[ivan]

i know you do though, 'cuz you're just 2 kewt a cuddly-bear to threaten to cave a negro's face in just 'cuz a brother's renamed your route

[pink]

that's okay, cause im gonna come a free it someday, and call it " pig fucker "

[ivan]

nice - fits the "bacon-wand" most perfectly

[ivan]

new year, new beatard count

 

1/1/13 - day#1 - curiously cold and icy and windblown lap on the corner w/ that powderhound chap, clad in a goddamn gordon's fisherman jumpsuit w/ tight matching-colored gear - wondrous ice-curtain on the slab pitch, under the roofs, and frostcicles on tree ledge - a frozen gully choked w/ gravel up on grassy ledge - sand-storms out on the island, carrying grit all the way across the water to the docks - the boat landing slammed w/ waves, breaking across the ice-clad pier - many tourons on the trail - a fine, quick lap - the first day of Beatardia 2013!

 

 

1/12 - day#2 - strange day - freezing fog on the wakeup, car shackled in ice at the dawn - geoff at the burger king - high-speed jet through the quiet lull of the gorge, the road dry n' gentle - beacon becalmed, all door discipline disregarded - a great gut-laugh at the peach allah had gracefully cast into our laps - i get all the leads down low - consensus conditions S5 (our ascent of 12/21/12 in recent memory a retard S9, damn near pegging the limit of the possible) - challenging lead conditions for sure still, with sheet-freeze all over, slowly peeling off in the relatively tropical conditions - runnels of run-off bubbling underneath the ice - the sun bursting through the clear air - rumbles of gunfire, pap-pap-pap-pap, a militia-action for certain on the oregon shores - slip-sliding away all over from grassy ledges up - glimpse of the bonneville crick draining into the river, all jizzum-milky, the vas defernes of the columbian cock- exited the long way, the Great Coward wending all to Starboard where he could - a walk down all bathed in rays of a riotous golden orb - jim at the base w/ an old boy - oaths and auguries, threats and Aggravated Assaults considered - an easy orbit back through the steaming warmth of the gorge-winter disbanded, if only for a bit

 

1/22 - #3 - annealed by two recent days at smith in the Big Fridge of the bivy site, mornings traversing the phantasmagorical formations of frozen sludge, mike and i had an evening run up the bacon-wand in a big olde freshet of gaudy coldness

 

a big dry had beaten off the vast damp of days gone by - barely any ice on route - half the digits of my right foot right numb by grassy ledges, i unshod and rubbed hardly any life back into them - toes throb as i type

 

booty nut on p2, should the original owner wish to claim it from a massive pile of such things i have growing in my garage

 

not even a fort-night of fucknoodling about the sunny-side left - full moon fever this weekend for any half-wit warriors who might feel the urge to come w/...

 

 

 

2/2 - day #4 - ground hogz day, a swift demise to deadly winter predicted - 'twas the day after a wander up the hood-wand w/ an interesting feller to dispatch the doldrum of the beacon s side closure - ya never stop learning in the mountains, this time 2 Ore-e-gone Snowboard'nBoyz taught me how to inhale green weeds through green apples using nothing more than a glorious bright winter sun and a magnifying glass - a good invention for the stiff breezes off an open glacier - much thanks for them that rock the Van Damme

 

stone soup w/ geoff today - despite the distinct sense of early spring setting in as the Great Hamster foresaw, it was a mort cold and savage breezy - geoff did p1, and i managed to mangle meself on p2 - found a fixed nut at the start of the eyebrow traverse and was hanging out on it for awhile, had just plugged the next cam in when suddenly i was falling - fell/slid into a slab, instinctively grabbing an edge to stop the fall, sheared off the flesh of my pinky-tip and sprung the sprockets in the other fingers' knuckles, then went heads'o'er'tits and continued on down, getting entangled in the rope running up through the gear and ultimately arresting hanging upside down looking straight at the olde boye, who looked frankly startled

 

blood pouring from the flensed n' flapping finger, i wrapped my balaclava about it n' took stock - had a good gut laugh upon recalling that last time i climbed on this side, last spring, i'd ended up in the e.r. too - maybe i'm just not getting the message?

 

geoff was my hero - not only did he finish the pitch, he also figured out how, after 10 minutes, to get my damn knot untied by pounding on it w/ a jug - the big breeze blew itself out as dejected would-be hiking trail ascenders milled about the parking lot and i howled at the sky in mock musical appreciation - the climb done, we went off, each to his saturday night debaucheries and me to keen my wound w/ wanton drunkenness

 

4/25 - day 5 - holy shee-it muslims, it's been 2 months - lovely spring day - many olde boyes humping the o-zone on the way out - on the north side, the sun peaking over, one hand washes the other, i fear nothing - 3 peregrines screeching n' flopping about - green grass - crisp n' crunchy moss - had time to stop by and yack-yack w/ jim n' sal n' steve n' wes n' a whole motley crew of misfits n' misogynistic fucks on the way back - did a couple solo laps on the jacobs ladder and drank some beers, then boogied on back home for "house of cards" w/ the wifey

 

jesus-h-christ, why are they doing more construction on the 14?!?

 

4/30 - beacon day 6 for the year - only 2 days at the baconwand this month, but spring seems to be here fo'shiz, even if today it was right blustery and overcast - scrambly, scrambly on the n side for a while, then a satisfying hike to the summit - the 70th anniversary of an intelligence coup - "mincemeat has been swallowed" - peregrines apparent from the uprising exit, swooping and screeching and having a ball it looked - kenny in the lot, horrifyingly still set in his hate-tobacco way, but w/ rainier-beer as always

 

5/2 - day 7 - all my pardners bail - the pearl is in the river - john has a long mustache - freedom is slavery, war is peace!!!

 

5/4 - international star-wars day, may the fourth be with you beatard day 8 for 2013 - stoned stupor w/ bryan n' bob - bryan styles following p1 and leads p2 almost all clean - breezy n' balmy - eyes scuppered w/ dust-scum as i type - stooooked for a fine day in the sun - olde boys climbing below us on the spike route, a fine view from the phone booth - miker stops by for a chat even - summer's upon us!

 

5/6 - day #9 - afternoon sprint up the sun-baked monolith after union meetings and whatnot - pilgrims at dawn - days gone by and dead men ghosts - great gashes in the highway - asphalt scars and concrete wars - the red devil turns over 190k even as the cd player craps in the bed, carrying nico blue into the way blue yonder - the pearl is in the river

 

5/8 - beatard day 10 of the year - jesus christ on a cum-stained cushioned couch, this'er fine weather just won't fucking quit! out to slouch and lounge around the bacon-wand once more, scrambly-scrambly here and there along the north wall - figure its about time to scoot up the spike route sans rope i reckon - on up to the slumit in rude circuitous style, but all the beauty on the scamper back down - a buxom couple encountered cruising on up the packinko-portion of the trail, dressed appropriate for a warm day - i cast down mine eyes, unworthy as i am, only to be brought up sharp by a strange question from the sultry lassie - a great gaping grin, "oh no, heaven's no, how could you think that and who might you be" - claimed to know me and my sorcerous ways, but most surely she must mistake me for some other beatard cunt? "you were that guy guzzling boxed wine and chain-smoking camels last summer!" - goddammit, i must stop meeting ladies of quality in my long aestival blacked-out ambulations, it augers poor for my alternate-reality amors!

 

"AF is having problems w/ its fresh-water condensers"

 

5/10 - day 11 - linked strong arms w/ der phuzzy, all phresh from phucking himself good n' proper last burn'n'man, flensed scars from incisions all about his satellite-parts - to the n side we did fly, me w/ the big wall dumpster full of wine n' hammers n' what have you...beers n' butts at the base - the spike route ensconced in scum n' villainy - we scamper up the right side first, when ole'jim w/ a jingus-voice arrived n' whisper-hollered up at us - to the tree n' the site of new natural destruction wrought all around, stone-fall n' swathes of moss scoured off in flight - we rap back to the big boy for bitter conversation and big Olde Tymes - intolerance for them a week earlier w/ their wire-brushes - gut laughs n' tyranny gestated - adam n' i up genesis to the tree again as the sun glows low - i above that, but bailing on a bolt too steep to suss out in the gloaming - the base again, shade-slumming w/ pall malls n' precious beer w/o end - the stumble-fuck in the dark, the way-back-bent in style - departure n' parting - kevbone no doubt kluster-fucked, i conklude

 

5/11 - a dozen days so far - 5 days this week - junuary kicked square in the nuts, but waiting in the wings it seems - good thing really, i'm on the verge of tweaking out my fingers already - dogs in my dreams, feeding on my feet - terror at daybreak, broken in the bone yard - the ringing of bells at all hours, the horror of home-coming gone wrong - dust, dust, dust - the bloody angle when the walls fell - spotsylvania on a warm spring evening - they sing the body electric, and then they too Pass Beyond

 

5/14 - lucky #13 - gray and gaunt at the dawn, dim-minded and mopey - when the world dies in an orgasm of heavenly-fire, how i fucking hope it's a tuesday, and early in the morning to boot, to spare me the whole gory goddamn details of the day - tuesday, the red-haired stepchild of the torrid week - hitler was conceived on a tuesday - it's true, you can google that shit man

 

sun breaks around noon, life reviving, rock drying, seniors shuffle in and out in a hyperstatic hepped-up euphoric hangover - the red devil galloping east through the gorge, growling at these goddamn men in their machines gouging out the concrete and showering everything in gravel - the tyranny inherent in giving any man a blaze-orange vest and sign, too gross to contemplate in the golden sunshine searing through my senses

 

RIP william fetterman, you awful fucker - "give me 80 men and i can ride through the whole sioux nation" - yeah, how'd that one work for ya, son?

 

5/20 - day 14 - a week of piss wedder, sunday's window spent wrangling kidz and wrestling w/ the garden n' chores n' what-have-you - union bidness at the close of day, my wits as always confounded n' humbled by the human machinery of government made flesh - the ghost of winston smith haunts me, but it's a special merry kind of fool who can't make lemonade out of a luscious afternoon of sun and rushing warm air gusting down the gorge - get on your fucking horse, dr rick marshall!

 

kenny's rig in the lot, him and sneezy-jim already up the spike route i reckon - i settle for a sleazy saunter up the big rock, lost in the gauzy thoughts gamboling through my thick head - the moon waxes great, will the wedder-gods set me up a solid?

 

fosters on the falling back, cops holed up n' counting donut-holes at cape horn - thank christ i don't have a cigarette to shit on this wondrous scene

 

5/31 - day 15, 9 dayz this gentle may - heartbreak for days gone by - memorial day weekend at tieton a near total bust - communiques pist upon for tr's w/o pixels - a week with pouring rain and occasional piercing sun w/o rainbows

 

ain't seen mike since a far long time it seems - set out in the afternoon for a ramble up the spike route, him not having had it he said - the base gross n' baking - thick drip and damp on the rock like it'd been sprayed w/ horse-semen - genesis after nearly shitting a kitten on the klutchy-klutchy start - mike made p2 not so sad, but like me needed to stand on the anchor bolts whilst thrutch-fucking into the danky mcdankerson pod there

 

dug leading the 3rd pitch spike-part proper, but this time w/ a stout old black cock of static death to bat-man on up the slab

 

beerz n' gut-laughing n' music up in the woods - mike does p4 and dislodges a big old panel to come whiffling down my ways - i do the last bit up to the trail wading through thick-glades of oak, oily and fresh and full of fear

 

bongos at the summit, guitars n' young ones yodeling - jesus-harold-christ, children I Know up there doing god know's what - ruins my summit celebration, but what can you do - wizened age equals patience equals wisdom?

 

rolling rock n' reefers on the ramble on down - the new Man meandering around, tending the meters in the lot - don't seem like too fearsome a feller...

 

"something seems wrong w/ our bloody ships today!"

 

6/3 - day 16 - sweet green first peaking from the new berms of the road-cut west of ozone - a throaty breeze when work is spent - the day beams brightly, i jet down the well-worn highway - apples n' ass-ended hits n' horrid cigarettes - jimbo in the house, somewhere high up the hell-side, waging war on moss i'll warrant w/ that nefarious Other Feller - a raucous ramble up the boring old way - teens on the summit w/ their elders, teeming w/ the airs of methadonia unleashed - tails grown tepid, they rocket down the rock to the grinding of gears, knees shivering in the sea-gale

 

"and, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;

The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,

And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;

but there is no joy in Beatardia, the south side is still closed out"

 

d-day - b-day plus 16 for me - machines shitting out soil on the road cut - long lines of traffic - sweating in the sun - a book and a beer for the beacon run - trains rumbling - falcons screeching - shade and wind - the island in the grips of the Drowned God - sweet tension released in seconds, the searing heat of summer upon us, the seniors soon to be flown and my professional sun setting

 

6/17 - #18 - grass bowing gently in the slight gusts of the western gorge - cool and sunny, scraps of clouds here and there - the highway gloriously free of frenetic machines fouling the thoroughfare - hawks and gulls hollering - hordes of dim-wits dashed all over the trail - the Usual Suspects - the Siegfried Oath issued all over again, the same all ways and in every weather - one day of classes left, the solstice hard upon us, sweet Summer is feeling rather tipsy and falling out of her panties in her haste - the Time is Right, my brothers

 

"well, i got in a quibble,

shot a door -

i'm reading the bible

by a 40 watt bulb -

what price freedom?

that is my rub

well i sleep like a baby

with the snakes n' the bugs"

 

7/31 - day 19 - first street legal day on the riverside in a rare ould time - mike's at 7 in the morning mist - bleary eyed, jesus christ, i'll be back at work in 4 weeks - knees too weary to start on cruising, we start up the corner and i somehow pinch a nerve in my back - electric lights dance when i move my head, so i learn to climb w/o looking anywhere

 

8/10 - XX pro anno diem - whiskey-sick at 7 a.m. - rough roll out of bed, down the steps and out the door - pat snoring on the couch - did i really smoke my fist-full of smokes in 30 minutes last night?

 

geoff @ the b.k. - cruis'n n' warriors n' right gull - choppers landing on the wildlife reserve, ferrying in fucking wind-boarders - dick synonym for the day: "snatch-ratchet" - long drives off the land of the little people, thank you mysterious stranger - old larry for fucks sake rapping in for an evening alone - pbr's n' passing showers on the way back

[kevbone]

long drives off the land of the little people, thank you mysterious stranger

 

Your welcome. One of the party folk from last night dropped them off along with alot of long drives and gin and tonics. Super fun eh.....

 

We got stormed out last night. Called it quits only after 2 hours on the ledge with everybody. Wind and rain are one thing but when the huge thunder and more importantly lightning started it was time to leave and quick.

[ivan]

the fixed line is a sad obstacle for the greater glory of Reaching the Columbia

 

nice n' rumbly and some big splashes coming down as we were leaving this afternoon...

[stevetimetravlr]

Yep, that lightening last night really lit things up, I hauled ass off the top as fast as I could go. Great to see the old crew as well as so many new folks out there climbing on a regular basis, very cool. Now if only that Pink guy would come on back and show us how to climb..

and rename that friggin route of Ivans!

[kevbone]

the fixed line is a sad obstacle for the greater glory of Reaching the Columbia

 

 

Well you have to have someone hold the line back while you swing.

[ivan]

the fixed line is a sad obstacle for the greater glory of Reaching the Columbia

 

 

Well you have to have someone hold the line back while you swing.

only took one swipe to figure that

[rl23455]

On Sat 8/10 took two friends up Little Wing to Right Gull. rapped off Jills Thrill. What's the open book corner called, last pitch before Grassy Ledges? It starts in that little alcove with the small oak trees. The regular route goes up between the small oak trees and is like a 5.5. This is just to the left. Near the top of variation of Bluebird.

[stevetimetravlr]

Perhaps you speak of Seagull? left of Right Gull? To me its kind of confusing up there as to what routes are originally what, but the way I like to do it is Little Wing to Right Gul up to the top of the pillar but instead of stepping left to the anchors and the pin variation, go straight up off the first pillar instead. You can use good gear and its about 5.8.

[pink]

On Sat 8/10 took two friends up Little Wing to Right Gull. rapped off Jills Thrill. What's the open book corner called, last pitch before Grassy Ledges? It starts in that little alcove with the small oak trees. The regular route goes up between the small oak trees and is like a 5.5. This is just to the left. Near the top of variation of Bluebird.

 

Muriel's Memoir? Old McGowen Route i do believe Does it look Beacon Rock 5.9ish?

[kevbone]

Little Wing to Right Gul up to the top of the pillar but instead of stepping left to the anchors and the pin variation, go straight up off the first pillar instead. You can use good gear and its about 5.8.

 

Love that part. Its called the vulcan variation.

 

 

[kevbone]

On Sat 8/10 took two friends up Little Wing to Right Gull. rapped off Jills Thrill. What's the open book corner called, last pitch before Grassy Ledges? It starts in that little alcove with the small oak trees. The regular route goes up between the small oak trees and is like a 5.5. This is just to the left. Near the top of variation of Bluebird.

 

It depends on who you ask. Jim calls that the last pitch of Little wing. Crux is at the very end.

[YocumRidge]

So, we finally climbed the complete Young Warriors on Sunday. What are the rusted bolted anchors on the P4 30' down and to the left of the 10a section with a bolt? I was told I am off route?

[stevetimetravlr]

Yes, Jim said those anchors are to some long gone aid route, weird hangers on them, and not on-route for YW. Don't traverse left to them but just keep going basically straight up for another 60 feet or so till you can setup a belay where it joins the corner.

[Plaidman]

Got out on Young Warriors last evening. Led Pitch 1,3,and 5. The last pitch was just the small top section. I finished on The Corner and not Young Warriors proper and ran the rope all the way to the trail. Super fun. Got it done in 3 hours, just as the moon was coming up. Now I have led pitch 1,2, and 3. Just have to get to led 4 and 5 proper and I will have that route in the bag and off the list. Sure is easier being 46 pounds lighter.

 

Plaid

Edited August 21, 2013 by Plaidman

[ivan]

new year, new beatard count

 

1/1/13 - day#1 - curiously cold and icy and windblown lap on the corner w/ that powderhound chap, clad in a goddamn gordon's fisherman jumpsuit w/ tight matching-colored gear - wondrous ice-curtain on the slab pitch, under the roofs, and frostcicles on tree ledge - a frozen gully choked w/ gravel up on grassy ledge - sand-storms out on the island, carrying grit all the way across the water to the docks - the boat landing slammed w/ waves, breaking across the ice-clad pier - many tourons on the trail - a fine, quick lap - the first day of Beatardia 2013!

 

 

1/12 - day#2 - strange day - freezing fog on the wakeup, car shackled in ice at the dawn - geoff at the burger king - high-speed jet through the quiet lull of the gorge, the road dry n' gentle - beacon becalmed, all door discipline disregarded - a great gut-laugh at the peach allah had gracefully cast into our laps - i get all the leads down low - consensus conditions S5 (our ascent of 12/21/12 in recent memory a retard S9, damn near pegging the limit of the possible) - challenging lead conditions for sure still, with sheet-freeze all over, slowly peeling off in the relatively tropical conditions - runnels of run-off bubbling underneath the ice - the sun bursting through the clear air - rumbles of gunfire, pap-pap-pap-pap, a militia-action for certain on the oregon shores - slip-sliding away all over from grassy ledges up - glimpse of the bonneville crick draining into the river, all jizzum-milky, the vas defernes of the columbian cock- exited the long way, the Great Coward wending all to Starboard where he could - a walk down all bathed in rays of a riotous golden orb - jim at the base w/ an old boy - oaths and auguries, threats and Aggravated Assaults considered - an easy orbit back through the steaming warmth of the gorge-winter disbanded, if only for a bit

 

1/22 - #3 - annealed by two recent days at smith in the Big Fridge of the bivy site, mornings traversing the phantasmagorical formations of frozen sludge, mike and i had an evening run up the bacon-wand in a big olde freshet of gaudy coldness

 

a big dry had beaten off the vast damp of days gone by - barely any ice on route - half the digits of my right foot right numb by grassy ledges, i unshod and rubbed hardly any life back into them - toes throb as i type

 

booty nut on p2, should the original owner wish to claim it from a massive pile of such things i have growing in my garage

 

not even a fort-night of fucknoodling about the sunny-side left - full moon fever this weekend for any half-wit warriors who might feel the urge to come w/...

 

 

 

2/2 - day #4 - ground hogz day, a swift demise to deadly winter predicted - 'twas the day after a wander up the hood-wand w/ an interesting feller to dispatch the doldrum of the beacon s side closure - ya never stop learning in the mountains, this time 2 Ore-e-gone Snowboard'nBoyz taught me how to inhale green weeds through green apples using nothing more than a glorious bright winter sun and a magnifying glass - a good invention for the stiff breezes off an open glacier - much thanks for them that rock the Van Damme

 

stone soup w/ geoff today - despite the distinct sense of early spring setting in as the Great Hamster foresaw, it was a mort cold and savage breezy - geoff did p1, and i managed to mangle meself on p2 - found a fixed nut at the start of the eyebrow traverse and was hanging out on it for awhile, had just plugged the next cam in when suddenly i was falling - fell/slid into a slab, instinctively grabbing an edge to stop the fall, sheared off the flesh of my pinky-tip and sprung the sprockets in the other fingers' knuckles, then went heads'o'er'tits and continued on down, getting entangled in the rope running up through the gear and ultimately arresting hanging upside down looking straight at the olde boye, who looked frankly startled

 

blood pouring from the flensed n' flapping finger, i wrapped my balaclava about it n' took stock - had a good gut laugh upon recalling that last time i climbed on this side, last spring, i'd ended up in the e.r. too - maybe i'm just not getting the message?

 

geoff was my hero - not only did he finish the pitch, he also figured out how, after 10 minutes, to get my damn knot untied by pounding on it w/ a jug - the big breeze blew itself out as dejected would-be hiking trail ascenders milled about the parking lot and i howled at the sky in mock musical appreciation - the climb done, we went off, each to his saturday night debaucheries and me to keen my wound w/ wanton drunkenness

 

4/25 - day 5 - holy shee-it muslims, it's been 2 months - lovely spring day - many olde boyes humping the o-zone on the way out - on the north side, the sun peaking over, one hand washes the other, i fear nothing - 3 peregrines screeching n' flopping about - green grass - crisp n' crunchy moss - had time to stop by and yack-yack w/ jim n' sal n' steve n' wes n' a whole motley crew of misfits n' misogynistic fucks on the way back - did a couple solo laps on the jacobs ladder and drank some beers, then boogied on back home for "house of cards" w/ the wifey

 

jesus-h-christ, why are they doing more construction on the 14?!?

 

4/30 - beacon day 6 for the year - only 2 days at the baconwand this month, but spring seems to be here fo'shiz, even if today it was right blustery and overcast - scrambly, scrambly on the n side for a while, then a satisfying hike to the summit - the 70th anniversary of an intelligence coup - "mincemeat has been swallowed" - peregrines apparent from the uprising exit, swooping and screeching and having a ball it looked - kenny in the lot, horrifyingly still set in his hate-tobacco way, but w/ rainier-beer as always

 

5/2 - day 7 - all my pardners bail - the pearl is in the river - john has a long mustache - freedom is slavery, war is peace!!!

 

5/4 - international star-wars day, may the fourth be with you beatard day 8 for 2013 - stoned stupor w/ bryan n' bob - bryan styles following p1 and leads p2 almost all clean - breezy n' balmy - eyes scuppered w/ dust-scum as i type - stooooked for a fine day in the sun - olde boys climbing below us on the spike route, a fine view from the phone booth - miker stops by for a chat even - summer's upon us!

 

5/6 - day #9 - afternoon sprint up the sun-baked monolith after union meetings and whatnot - pilgrims at dawn - days gone by and dead men ghosts - great gashes in the highway - asphalt scars and concrete wars - the red devil turns over 190k even as the cd player craps in the bed, carrying nico blue into the way blue yonder - the pearl is in the river

 

5/8 - beatard day 10 of the year - jesus christ on a cum-stained cushioned couch, this'er fine weather just won't fucking quit! out to slouch and lounge around the bacon-wand once more, scrambly-scrambly here and there along the north wall - figure its about time to scoot up the spike route sans rope i reckon - on up to the slumit in rude circuitous style, but all the beauty on the scamper back down - a buxom couple encountered cruising on up the packinko-portion of the trail, dressed appropriate for a warm day - i cast down mine eyes, unworthy as i am, only to be brought up sharp by a strange question from the sultry lassie - a great gaping grin, "oh no, heaven's no, how could you think that and who might you be" - claimed to know me and my sorcerous ways, but most surely she must mistake me for some other beatard cunt? "you were that guy guzzling boxed wine and chain-smoking camels last summer!" - goddammit, i must stop meeting ladies of quality in my long aestival blacked-out ambulations, it augers poor for my alternate-reality amors!

 

"AF is having problems w/ its fresh-water condensers"

 

5/10 - day 11 - linked strong arms w/ der phuzzy, all phresh from phucking himself good n' proper last burn'n'man, flensed scars from incisions all about his satellite-parts - to the n side we did fly, me w/ the big wall dumpster full of wine n' hammers n' what have you...beers n' butts at the base - the spike route ensconced in scum n' villainy - we scamper up the right side first, when ole'jim w/ a jingus-voice arrived n' whisper-hollered up at us - to the tree n' the site of new natural destruction wrought all around, stone-fall n' swathes of moss scoured off in flight - we rap back to the big boy for bitter conversation and big Olde Tymes - intolerance for them a week earlier w/ their wire-brushes - gut laughs n' tyranny gestated - adam n' i up genesis to the tree again as the sun glows low - i above that, but bailing on a bolt too steep to suss out in the gloaming - the base again, shade-slumming w/ pall malls n' precious beer w/o end - the stumble-fuck in the dark, the way-back-bent in style - departure n' parting - kevbone no doubt kluster-fucked, i conklude

 

5/11 - a dozen days so far - 5 days this week - junuary kicked square in the nuts, but waiting in the wings it seems - good thing really, i'm on the verge of tweaking out my fingers already - dogs in my dreams, feeding on my feet - terror at daybreak, broken in the bone yard - the ringing of bells at all hours, the horror of home-coming gone wrong - dust, dust, dust - the bloody angle when the walls fell - spotsylvania on a warm spring evening - they sing the body electric, and then they too Pass Beyond

 

5/14 - lucky #13 - gray and gaunt at the dawn, dim-minded and mopey - when the world dies in an orgasm of heavenly-fire, how i fucking hope it's a tuesday, and early in the morning to boot, to spare me the whole gory goddamn details of the day - tuesday, the red-haired stepchild of the torrid week - hitler was conceived on a tuesday - it's true, you can google that shit man

 

sun breaks around noon, life reviving, rock drying, seniors shuffle in and out in a hyperstatic hepped-up euphoric hangover - the red devil galloping east through the gorge, growling at these goddamn men in their machines gouging out the concrete and showering everything in gravel - the tyranny inherent in giving any man a blaze-orange vest and sign, too gross to contemplate in the golden sunshine searing through my senses

 

RIP william fetterman, you awful fucker - "give me 80 men and i can ride through the whole sioux nation" - yeah, how'd that one work for ya, son?

 

5/20 - day 14 - a week of piss wedder, sunday's window spent wrangling kidz and wrestling w/ the garden n' chores n' what-have-you - union bidness at the close of day, my wits as always confounded n' humbled by the human machinery of government made flesh - the ghost of winston smith haunts me, but it's a special merry kind of fool who can't make lemonade out of a luscious afternoon of sun and rushing warm air gusting down the gorge - get on your fucking horse, dr rick marshall!

 

kenny's rig in the lot, him and sneezy-jim already up the spike route i reckon - i settle for a sleazy saunter up the big rock, lost in the gauzy thoughts gamboling through my thick head - the moon waxes great, will the wedder-gods set me up a solid?

 

fosters on the falling back, cops holed up n' counting donut-holes at cape horn - thank christ i don't have a cigarette to shit on this wondrous scene

 

5/31 - day 15, 9 dayz this gentle may - heartbreak for days gone by - memorial day weekend at tieton a near total bust - communiques pist upon for tr's w/o pixels - a week with pouring rain and occasional piercing sun w/o rainbows

 

ain't seen mike since a far long time it seems - set out in the afternoon for a ramble up the spike route, him not having had it he said - the base gross n' baking - thick drip and damp on the rock like it'd been sprayed w/ horse-semen - genesis after nearly shitting a kitten on the klutchy-klutchy start - mike made p2 not so sad, but like me needed to stand on the anchor bolts whilst thrutch-fucking into the danky mcdankerson pod there

 

dug leading the 3rd pitch spike-part proper, but this time w/ a stout old black cock of static death to bat-man on up the slab

 

beerz n' gut-laughing n' music up in the woods - mike does p4 and dislodges a big old panel to come whiffling down my ways - i do the last bit up to the trail wading through thick-glades of oak, oily and fresh and full of fear

 

bongos at the summit, guitars n' young ones yodeling - jesus-harold-christ, children I Know up there doing god know's what - ruins my summit celebration, but what can you do - wizened age equals patience equals wisdom?

 

rolling rock n' reefers on the ramble on down - the new Man meandering around, tending the meters in the lot - don't seem like too fearsome a feller...

 

"something seems wrong w/ our bloody ships today!"

 

6/3 - day 16 - sweet green first peaking from the new berms of the road-cut west of ozone - a throaty breeze when work is spent - the day beams brightly, i jet down the well-worn highway - apples n' ass-ended hits n' horrid cigarettes - jimbo in the house, somewhere high up the hell-side, waging war on moss i'll warrant w/ that nefarious Other Feller - a raucous ramble up the boring old way - teens on the summit w/ their elders, teeming w/ the airs of methadonia unleashed - tails grown tepid, they rocket down the rock to the grinding of gears, knees shivering in the sea-gale

 

"and, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;

The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,

And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;

but there is no joy in Beatardia, the south side is still closed out"

 

d-day - b-day plus 16 for me - machines shitting out soil on the road cut - long lines of traffic - sweating in the sun - a book and a beer for the beacon run - trains rumbling - falcons screeching - shade and wind - the island in the grips of the Drowned God - sweet tension released in seconds, the searing heat of summer upon us, the seniors soon to be flown and my professional sun setting

 

6/17 - #18 - grass bowing gently in the slight gusts of the western gorge - cool and sunny, scraps of clouds here and there - the highway gloriously free of frenetic machines fouling the thoroughfare - hawks and gulls hollering - hordes of dim-wits dashed all over the trail - the Usual Suspects - the Siegfried Oath issued all over again, the same all ways and in every weather - one day of classes left, the solstice hard upon us, sweet Summer is feeling rather tipsy and falling out of her panties in her haste - the Time is Right, my brothers

 

"well, i got in a quibble,

shot a door -

i'm reading the bible

by a 40 watt bulb -

what price freedom?

that is my rub

well i sleep like a baby

with the snakes n' the bugs"

 

7/31 - day 19 - first street legal day on the riverside in a rare ould time - mike's at 7 in the morning mist - bleary eyed, jesus christ, i'll be back at work in 4 weeks - knees too weary to start on cruising, we start up the corner and i somehow pinch a nerve in my back - electric lights dance when i move my head, so i learn to climb w/o looking anywhere

 

8/10 - XX pro anno diem - whiskey-sick at 7 a.m. - rough roll out of bed, down the steps and out the door - pat snoring on the couch - did i really smoke my fist-full of smokes in 30 minutes last night?

 

geoff @ the b.k. - cruis'n n' warriors n' right gull - choppers landing on the wildlife reserve, ferrying in fucking wind-boarders - dick synonym for the day: "snatch-ratchet" - long drives off the land of the little people, thank you mysterious stranger - old larry for fucks sake rapping in for an evening alone - pbr's n' passing showers on the way back

8/20 - day 21 - beaconben at the b.k. past dawn - lonely morning at beacon, the rock to ourselves - dodd's jam to big ledge, then ben did a tr-lap on blood, sweat n' jizzum as i wallowed in bird-filth (do them damned peregrines suffer from perrenial bladder infections or do they just binge'n'purge on peptobismal? the pink-hue to their ubiquitous turds is disconcerting)- topped out to trail on dastardly, then a run to the skamania mart for burritos n' beacon-rock brand beer - beerz in the shade by the boat-ramp, then back to the rock for a hybrid corner/warriors lap - international bring-yer-hawt-girlfriend to the crag day, w/ a saucy-shiela the lady in question along w/ her aussie-blokefriend - the boyfriend and our respective wives being but 3 obstacles in our path to awesomeness, that and i suppose also my plug-ugliness and the fact that ole'ben's so gawd-damned raytarded if he get's dropped on his head one more time he'll be eating applesauce from plastic spoons the rest of his life

 

phrase of the day, from the burrito ingredients: "intensified soy oil"

 

first i've seen of the elk today - them high-lonesome fuck-me-now bugles but days away