ivan Posted July 17, 2012 Share Posted July 17, 2012 Trip: The Yosylum - Various adVentures in the Valley of the Big Stone Date: 7/1/2012 Trip Report: ahh, the virtues of the vernal season! - the iron-locks of gainful employment sprung, the Big Road way open, the Family escorted to their airplane for a long, long vacation to the Wrong Coast in the silliest of seasons - freedom, or a reasonable ersatz thereof, and we're fucking stupid to waste a moment of it - so off we go! in the end i found varying degrees of success in yosemite on the zodiac, royal arches, the leaning tower (solo), lurching steers and daff dome. the wife n' kids flew out before my seniors graduated, so i had 2 weekends to get the blood up - the phuzzy, geoff and i spent the first at smiff as index was weather-wracked - we wrangled a big pig up misery ridge, pausing for a lap on moscow, then geoff and i climbed into the west face cave while the phuzz wandered off to solo squaw rock, way the fuck out in the hinterland i managed to stuff far more alcohol into this motherfucker than turned out to be strictly sensible, spending the morning after a sodden, sad mess moaning in misery on an altar of birdshit swank accomodations eschewing the aid scene for his bucolic ambulation, adam nonetheless faced a daunting adventure, jugging up our 2 ropes tied to together and cast down the northwest passage he styled it, a true polymath, that one - ladies, he also gardens, cooks and cleans and can keep his fucking mouth shut when need be, unlike some - as his broker, send all submissions to me on the back of a century note, being sure to include your basic measurements - fluffer-work is waiting for all, regardless of merit geoff closed his glazballs, drifting, unmoored to this simple world of yours, and knew such glorious things... but then it was the lord's day and us back to laboring in submission - thursday i went for an evening ascent of the stone soup and paid a hefty price - halfway up the alpine route i slid back down through the brush a bit, impaling the meat of the back on my thigh on a cut branch, bitter-sharp as shaka's spear - through the pulsing blood i could see the muscle, red-as-a-rare-steak, leaving me drooling in my hunger i was willing to risk blowing out my stitches on the last weekend at home - graduation dispatched with and the new grown-ones kicked out forever, adam and mi amigo bob headed out for our first trip to the coethedral safe sex always leaves my noodle limp - give me the risk of a rare rash for a raging hard-on! adam on some damn thing - white people's route names all kinda sound the same, dig? we dared not disturb this wench of a witch, though her visage is comely enough your friend and humble narrator balls-deep in knob-land bob went on back to the big-city that first night, but miker arrived mid-afternoon to take up the slack, and holy-fuck, even the plaidman put in an appearance - i poured poison into meself w/ a passion, and we stoked a roaring fire until our demons dragged us off to sleep mike was hot for the excalibur, so for his sins he was given it - i have not the mettle for kingship, so aspire not to its fancies and fasces, but settle for taking the tench-wenches under the table when the lord has left his dominion the school season dispensed with as of 7 a.m. on a wednsday morning, i assembled my meagre half-ton of grub and gear, and winged it over portland way to the abode of my lawyer, who's chariot would carry us both valley-wards, no doubt to certain glory, with the plan to then dump me off for solo adventures afterwards and eventually effect a rendezvous w/ the timorous tvashtarkena and the rowdy miker for some sorta el cap clusterfuck after a few hours at hard-on flats, we found ourselves packing up for a zodiac ascent in the picnic area - geoff needed another round of napping, so i contented meself to chain smoke, sangria-sip, and zip off pix of the locals, just a few feet away and making lunch out of a log not an absurd rack, heavy as could be on the offsets of course - i wrangled up some borrowed-iron from beaconben, and immediately got to put it into use on pitch 1 geoff on the zodiac talus, whereupon we encountered more bears, tearing through a pilfered case of toiletries alas, our zodiac dream malfunctioned not far off the ground - our half-baked plan had been to have geoff solo p1&2 while i humped up 2 more loads of bullshit, sparing us another evening of hardin flats and leaving us ready to launch the day after - yet our timing had somehow grown tight, geoff being unable to escape a court-date just six days off - a fall right off the ground on p1 left him proper freaked, and upon my arrival w/ load 2 i stumbled to design a decent salvage - in the end i got us up the first pitch, rudely impressed already at the stoutness of this climb vs tangerine trip, my only el cap success so far we figured to at least spend a night on the wall the next day, and maybe put up such a pace that the whole enchilada could be digested before matlock had to make his big move on back - load 3 now at the base after an evenign spent w/ ben and his crew up at crane flats, and geoff was disinterested in p2 - i enjoyed it, but when he was up and still shaky at the start of 3, it seemed obvious this thing just wasn't gonna happen Making the Call so, time for a save - we bathed in the blissfully tamed merced, had some pizza, and shaped a course to conquer the royal arches the next day, then washington column the 2 days after - an evening at crane flats again, and at the crack of noon we were off to the awanahe for the Big Show only my 2nd free-climb in the valley, like most pilgrims, i felt a little ass-pucker on the mega-polished first pitch, but soon we were above it, and while the route felt alpine-rambly, we made rapid progress through the first half it suuuuuuure is purdy up here the a0 pendulum was pleasant, our only moment of doubt at a 5.7 pin-scarred start right off a pillar-top a few pitches below it - once above, we could hear the voices of folks we were out-stripping, and geoff climbed up to greet them it turned into a rare-aould round-up of whatinthefucks, clusterfucking their way up easy ground, so we had time for photography and grousing under the gloom of a pine the greatest aggravation the jaunt down - 4 fucking crews of climbers, and all but ours completly unwilling to co-operate for a quick descent down the endless rappels - as last on top, we had little choice but to wait our turn, watching each successive group establish the rap, execute it, and pull it (often w/ disasters for the guys insisting on double-ropers) - it did leave time to take in the loveliness of the late light lingering down el cap and cathedral ways near the end of the raps evening at crane flats again - met a dude i was to climb el cap w/ after geoff left who ended up fucking me instead w/o a word - we raged late by the fire, laughing our asses off, and then dropped off before the dawn - another crack of noon start, and we found the awanahe lot overfull w/ sunday brunchers, so we parked a bit further off to pack up for washington column but first, it'd been a week since i'd mangled meself, and the doc gave me the okay to cut the bitchy stitches out all by me lonesome after 7 days had passed a little self-surgery in the sun - toenail clippers, what CAN'T they do? after working up a serious sweat, we were at the base of the columns dog-route, and behind 2 lovely ladies to boot - ah, the dinner ledge dream! sadly, they bailed after p1 though, and so i was alone to belay old-boy on p2 that night i moved to change the moniker for dinner ledge - 2 trips in a row found me sharing the berth w/ big-old cops, so from now on i shall designate it "donut-ledge" - geoff and i took frequent walks over to the bathroom to catch a breath of fresh air, and the bottle made its rounds - next morning geoff was unleashed on the kor roof i led quick-enough across p5, and managed to have half of 6 done too by the time geoff had seconded across - notice how he's wearing my fleece? turned out it can get cold as a motherfucker even in july, and he'd neglected his long shirts - figuring i could stay warm leading, i nonetheless was a shivering mess by the time i reached the anchor geoff following 6, right at the so-called mandatory 5.7, which clever cunts like meself can cheat across just fine, thank you reclaiming my sweater, geoff needed stern tongue-lashing to set out on 7 - it proved fruitless, and in the lashing winds, i relented and down we went, big wall meltdown#2 of the week - still, fine scenery to supplement this little personal tragedy as week 1 concluded geoff left me off at crane flats and began to wing his way back home - i had an afternoon for beers and laughs w/ the little'uns, awaiting for the arrival of a partner who would never apparate - disgruntled by the following morning, i set the day's task to be aquiring camp 4 accomodations - too late to find shelter that day, i settled for poetry and poison in the bushes: "meat popsicles everywhere along the percolating merced - summer heat and warm sangria in the shade an illicit campout under the all encompassing sky - long-legged lovelies and their sultry looks the day lies dying and i off to bed - wine in the woods, beneath the boulders molested by mozzies, i digest Dickens until darkness grows and Carton is killed he claimed his resting place was best, but i disagree, here surrounded by pines and spiders nests!" "dreams in the dark - old friends dead, and new friends in bed - sorrows & salutations - inventions & infernal machines - golden hours gyrating, one side to the other, putrid rock-shoes for pillows - plans made and lost to the whispers of what never-was - a simpler time, angry and illucid - falls w/o consequence - flights w/o landings - lovers of the most lurid sorts" ben dropped all my dunnage off by afternoon, and sans partner, i suited up for a solo on the leaning tower, managing to hitch a ride in the gloaming w/ a fine fellow named josh - i arrived at the bivy base just as the last of the light gave out, discovering a cute couple getting ready for their first bigwall in the morning - i slept up on the 4th class ledge, fixed line firmly clenched between my knees, so i could get an earlier start somehow i managed but a single shot out of the whole adventure - goddamn this thing is steep! back in camp 4 the next day, i set down to the serious work of socializing, reading, scribbling n' drinking, a romanian engineer of advancing age a reasonably good companion the first of july upon me, i fashion a plan via way-expensive pay-phones w/ mike - lurking fear as a party of 3 clearly more along the lines of lurching steers - i take that day to scope it out our eventual route merry pranks along hte way, a family 1/3 bailing off the salathe, 1 pitch up - the bailee a lovely little lass, wide-eyed and lost - her father, a dead-ringer of ed harris, begged down for a chaperone for his daughter, and ever a giver, i complied readily, instructing her in the ways of a big-valley dirtbag - it condensed well into an epic poem THEN SHE BROUGHT THE JESUS "she was pretty as a picture on a cock-assed x-mas day lovely as the new leaves budding on a bright morning in may. thought it a lively little conversation, all filled w/ coy connotations to please us: 'are you free to do as you please this evening?' ...and then she brought the Jesus." w/ an unblemished conscience, i cast out the next morning to fix the first 2 pitches by myself - the next day the crew arrived, we hauled up ten tons of water, then ate mescaline and went swimming a fun night ensued out at hardin, mozzie fucked thought it might have been - grilled up summer sausage in butter - tench by the tankard - high-tech hizute medicine delivery-systems - up before the light and we zipped on up the fixed ropes bit of a disaster then - i'd not intended to bring my canned food up the day before but somehow it'd ended up in my haulbag - thought the bear presence less likely up there given the fixed ropes and had settled for burying them under boulders - yeah, my ursine friend appeared to take his time, savaging everything in turn, most maliciously my poor fucking smokes! a few gallons of water too were made victims of, and so our itinerary hit its first snag - quick save: me n' mike will fix p3&4, then i'll hike down for a re-supply and we'll launch tomorrow morning like planned mike jugging up to the top of 2 following the window pane flake, a fine feature and home to a fuck-ton of foul swallows mike on p4 - plenty of good hooking leads to a hanger below a steep crack i was grumpy that evening - my 6th ascent of the fixed lines on the approach afore me, carryign down not only a trashbag of bear-spoilings, but also, unbeknowdst to me, 3 days of tvash's wall-food, all of which ended up in a dumpster - a speedy trek over to the village store for resupply - 25 goddamn dollars for 4 gallons of water?!? arrived back at the base in a bitchy mood, but settled into sleep w/ a bellyfull of burgundy to buck me back up fitting the theme of my trip, our launch day quickly devolved into a damned-debacle - 5 days of shit plus 2 portaledges simply killed me to haul, and half way up the first one, i called an audible - let's fix to 6 today (shit, why not go get 10 more ropes and fix the whole fucker to the summit? ), drop down to 3 days of food/water, and shit-can the double-ledge? ended up a sensible save, and pat and i set to fixing us two more pitches - pat on 5 mike on the telephoto from the ground - pat on 5 - having guarded our food n' gear whiled we flitted about, mike hauled out the excess cargo back to the car, and brought me up a thimblefull of wine me cleaning p6 after fixing to it's top up at 230 in the morning in the bushes right at the base, arms circled about the food-stuffed haulbags, we cast off well and for once everythign went to plan - pat lead off up the jugs, me doing the lions-share of the hauling, blissfully easy now that the weight was right mike heading up to the top of 6 while i stay below, our plan to use the third (me as bag-monkey) to release the bag from there and skip hauling to 6 - worked well enough, but holy-shit it's a scary ride for the 3rd to follow, as there's no extra rope to lower out w/! eventually i rejoined the crew at the base of p8, a wide bitch that pat got to shine on - i relaxed as best i could in the wind and scorching sun mike leadign the traverse of p7 pat mixing it up in the Great Wide Open of p8 after completing his epic, pat fixed me off and i raced up the rare-easy pitch to clean, then short-fixed up p9 while he and mike managed the hauling - at the top was the pillar of despair, an apt appellation for a bullshit place where sitting is almost, but not quite, completely impossible - pat chilled just below as mike lead up 10 and our hoped for camp, the pair of us laying wagers on whether the business would be done by dark it was a horror-fuck evening for me - mike arrived at the rude anchor as the darkness hit, and for a multitude of reasons left the station so shit-hammered and cluster-fucked with crap that i was powerless to set my ledge up proper and still be able to get around or be stable - they retreated to their real small natural ledge and had a hoe-down as i hollered at the heavens and made a right angry-mess of meself, settling down for sleep still in shoes and kneepads, utterly miserable at the constantly swinging, precariously perched portaledge while conspired during hte evening not only to wake my from blissful slumber every 20 minutes, but also to rip apart my sleeping bag, which, mortally-wounded, fairly exploded in down until i lashed what duck-tape i could scroung upon it them boys appeared to enjoy their respite - bastards. pat returning to the p10 anchor on morning 2 - i was in such a shit mode i settled for a few hits of magic medicine and cranked up the speakers to the pleasant tunes of live-dead i led out on p11 - here i am at the "tricky" bit whose start sure don't feel c1, but which is overcome easy enough w/a large offset cam mike got the "grand traverse" of p12 the crux of the pitch, 4 hooks in a row! once again our party of 3 worked wonders - pat stayed at 10 while mike did 12, and mike then hauled the pig w/ pat's help while i short-fixed 13 - pat coming up w/ the pig here just below the p13 anchor, the first real taste of low-angle climbing on the route excellent anchor position for doing john-holmes long hauling-strokes mike got p14, which was to take us to our 2nd camp - he started on the recommended c1 part, freaked out at the sidewalk he'd have to walk across, then settled for a gansta-jumblefuck-aid-mantle - the climbing above didn't appear to be much more pleasant, and certainly the hauling was horseshit! i poured some piss down the slab in Honor of My Dead Homies pat and i played games w/ the golden granite of the ribbon falls walls - our favorite, the demented alien, seated on his gilded throne - maybe you just have to be there? the leaning tower clearly on display camp that night was a far cry more pleasant for me than the proceeding one - sadly, a harness was plenty necessary as i found myself on a slab so slanted that only the tension of my daisies upon my Suffering Johnson could keep my settled in place - fuck it, good enough! pat appeared to enjoy his breakfast the next morning - is there anywhere on earth that motherfucker can't enjoy a christian bowl of cereal? my garb's not gay if no one takes a picture of it, right? day 3 dawned w/ my doomed and determined to water my wounded horses on the thanksgiving ledge that evening, so like hellfire i set to p15, an odd-bird of low-angle, scruffy climbing looking back at our berth atop p14 mike off look a shot on p16, w/ ample opportunity for slow-poke aid and fumble-fuck free me cleaning p16 while pat plays pig-monkey sensing blood in the water, we zoomed off for our new home - deep in the shade on the northwest side, we were beyond the sun's reach - cramped and shrub fucked, pat found a way to fight through the two of us and get out on lead - more wideness for our boy! i settled onto my rarely-accessible belay seat, chain-smoking and offering appropriate color-commentary the v-slotted view down of our alien friend i pulled the lip while cleaning, leaving mike as bag-monkey, to be greeted by the wondrous view of our thanksgiving ledge mike pig wrangling just below the ledge the gods had ordained our hour of arrival a cunt-hair short of 420, so we settled in for a siesta ecstatic with everyday flatness, we were free even to shed our shoes and things i was so enchanted with the glow of that gentle hour that, child-like, i set meself to flying a kite! still, our intention was to top out this true beast that day, so, w/ salved souls and celebratory vibes, i hiked down to the end of the ledge and set out on the last aid-pitch, #18 i managed not to take the first wrong turn, but goddamn the 2nd wasn't so easy to suss out, and soon i found myself up high on the dome, w/ easy ground all around, but meself inexplicably far above and to the right of the anchor - no worries, mike will make it right! pat came on up, and in the dying light of the evening sky, there was the playign out of a maelstrom of passions, a divirgent expression of pissed-off hairless monkeys - my fault, your fault, his fault - whatever the fuck, jesus, let's just come to grips w/ this thing and top it out? el cap meadow fast approaching its time of slumber stumble-fucking in the hour of our glory so rare is this pleasure, so fleeting the feeling, that w/ arched eyebrows and slanting posture, i commemorate meself to the ages our highpoint, a place from which joshk must ever stay away, given the ludicrously huge n' easy boulders which could be trundled w/ a will! a water-party that evenign as we encountered nearly 3 gallons to tide us over down the long raps - we feasted and feted our sucess - the boys reclined in the cave, but i slept on the patio under that glorious pastiche of the night sky, willing my cigarettes to burn just a little bit longer as i took in the glory our final morning on the captain preparing for departure - quick lessons on how to ride the pig! mike pioneered each rap on a single strand, pat and i following as pig-monkeys on 2 ropes, untying each in turn and taking it with us when seconding the rap so as to never cluster-fuck the anchor w/ 3 big bitches and their baggage thank you sir, may i have another? pat, the last man out of the cave into the abyss plenty easy on the first raps to get a rope stuck me reversing the swing from 7 to 5 pat doing the same the ground just 60 meters below, pat gets the appropriate shit-eating-grin ivan - first on the wall n' last off! time to throw these hands away we climbed el cap and you didn't! miracle of miracles, all this crap will fit into a single carry-off! down the last of the fixed ropes a place in the pines assured, we arrived in darkness after a tanking up at the buffett - the next morning i set myeself to the true and faithful task of Tying On a Big One, passing the necessary intoxicating time making notes on our trip the other imps n' demons whiled away the hours w/ meticulous preparations for photography, none of which, for all that trouble, overcame the limitations of the lord's light (my kingdom for a step-ladder?) murderer's row dance like a drunken monkey by the shadow of the day's moon! in a demented state, i stumbled off w/ the responsible ones for local fun - the boulders by the awanahe offering incredible underground, forced air-conditioning scrambling! rise! rise! rise! our time growing short, i'd hoped get in a middle cathedral climb, or at least one of the spires, but them boys would have none of it, and so we winged it up to the meadows to the mighty, mighty DAFF dome mike trying to man up on p1 pat following after i settled for simple aid-fucking my way up it instead Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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