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Posted

Trip: Tieton - An Autopsy of Awful Wedder

 

Date: 5/25/2013

 

Trip Report:

devil dylan, you hateful troglodyte, how is it that i can never quite grok the gist of your message until i too have tholed it?

 

"i started out on burgundy but soon hit the harder stuff

my friends said they'd all stand behind me when the game got rough

but the joke's on me there was nobody there to even bluff

i'm going back to new york city i do believe i've had enuff!"

 

4 day weekend, plan set a long time since for north cascade glory - forecasts gone fucking sideways as the days appeared, we tried to suss out some sorta save - tieton, eh? sure, what da phuck, never done darkened that crag, might as well ruin my good name there too

 

drunken packing after a long week, take this, fuck that - pissed n' passed out but roused for a road-rage at dawn - the Proud Highway to the East, a grand gallop at battle speed through the gorge, a fortuitous tailwind forcing me o'er hill and dale as i screeched out janis joplin songs (revised: "oh lord, won't you by me a flat screen tv? honey boo-boo is trying to find me - i wait for delivery each day until three, so oh lord, won't you buy me a flat-screen tv?") - hood river, the dalles, burgundy for breakfast - cut rate oregon cancer stcks

 

simultaneous rendezvous w/ our man-from-seattledam - up a trail riddled w/ rattlers, their tails baby's toys yet to be - a goodly concentration of climbers to set the scene - crackman for fuck's sake and his whole camas crew

 

didn't know it was international take-your-hot-girlfriend to the crag day, but dog-bless whoever instituted it back when blondies walked the earth - i know kevbone's just trolling for photos, so this one's for you boy-o :)

pam011.jpg

yes kev, they did look like that - all half baker's goddamn dozen of them - and they could all climb 5.10 too :rawk:

 

wine by the box, butts by the pack - gut laughs - gesticulations - the jam exam, which i musta scored a D on (but hey, a D's just a B that took his belt off!)

 

camping up the oak creek road - crowds - pressing on - switchbacks and mud - supply run to naches - indian relations - olympia comes in orange now i see, and tastes brighter for it - the orb setting, luna rising - a glorious goddamn bonfire - the national tragedy of lara croft's bosums discarded into a common dumpster discussed of - the mystery of night dispensed with and i pass over to the other side in a baby-puddle by the roadside

 

rain in the half-gray of dawn, i grovel into the driver's seat to sprawl, hazy and wizened as the storm grows and i get ever so much less joyful

 

what to do once the day was full upon us? we wander into naches to find a gazebo and have a fry-up - white devil! spam and brown sugar - camels and cans of american beer - michner's space - colonel clagett killed, so uncalled for - "professor liebowitz keep'em dreaming down there" - friendly cat, froward dog

 

the sun breaks out, we gallomp on back to the crag and gear up - climb up the hill even as the clouds roll back in - it's pouring as we rack up - i retreat to the bushes and my beer and pat says why bother and rambles on back to the automovat

 

"the sun ain't yellow, he's chicken"

 

we settle for an afternoon hike up the elk preserve, soaked to the tits - cliffs n' swallows nests - herbivore hoof-prints in all directions - 3 million square feet of manure, a most manly calculation

 

another night, as the weather breaks again - no rain - a raging fire of wine-boxes n' damp wood - pat off to lala-land 'fore too long and i finish my book, crammed into the cab of an econo-asian cumstain

 

awake early to a gunmetal sky - grits and a greasy shit - mother nature tended too - literally as we roll out in reverse down the retard track we'd rambled up the rain returns and we curse and cuss and wonder whatdafuck?!?

 

a couple hours in the lot - total loss of all reason for life, the last smoke smolders out - gear sorted and we Make the Call, fuck this memorial day! we part and pass into dreams - me rambling three hours through incessant torrents, the desert soon made lovely by the sins of today - dylan screeching, screeching, screeching...

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Posted (edited)

I can't believe you posted a picture of your wife in this post.

 

Your posts are ever ENTERTAINING. Keep it up even if you have to make it up.

 

You could write books but then have to pay for psychiatrists to treat the editor's mental trauma.

Edited by matt_warfield
Posted

Maybe its time to deliver the autopsy for putting the predicate at the beginning of the sentence.

 

Also, don't you know it always rains everywhere on Memorial Day weekend.

Posted
so that must mean we aren't going into Deadhorse Cave today! sounds like what you need is a little underground swimming.

was thinking about that on the drive back - couldn't think of a way to make the deadhorse worse but to slowly fill it up w/ cloud filth :)

Posted

a salted wound is a happy wound? i betcha didn't bring yer hottie harem though

 

ain't been to banks neither, but reckon i oughta put a big old floater in that grand bank some grey day - how far from tieton?

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