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What happened to this place anyway?


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I have thought about this. Climbing isn't 'fun'. Why? Shredding my hands in a rough hand crack isn't fun. Being terrified of falling isn't fun. Belaying for an hour lashed to a icy belay and then getting the screaming barfies isn't fun. Hell, even bearing down on razor crimps at the gym isn't fun while you're on the wall. So what gives? Do we climb cause it's inherently ridiculous? or because we can? or because we get a kick out of being in a place that we were not meant for? I don't know, but I'm going to the gym tonight!

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'Cause you (that's the rhetorical "you," mind you) can push your soft simpering self and battle through all that shit. Overcoming is what's fun. 'S why Will Gadd will do 90 figure-fours out a roof and heel-hook up scant droolings of ice, why Chris Sharma will spend years falling off the same jingus pockets on French limestone, why Fred Nicole will twang his middle finger for a few more feet of action on a Fontainbleau blob, why Rheinhold Messner will breathe rarefied air and hallucinate up the highest peaks, why any of us will keep coming back for more slaps in the face and kicks while we're down; so we can muddle the hell through it and come out better or stronger or smarter or whatever, and hopefully take in some good views along the way.

 

Or something like this.

Edited by Dr_Flash_Amazing
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jingus

 

Where did this word come from. Does it have anything to do with Genghis Kahn? When I was at an exhibit of old rugs, vases and cool tiles lately, they kept pronouncing his name "jingus" and all I could think of was sporto climbers and their rad lingo.

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Adrenaline is a drug.

 

I was out at Leavenworth last weekend teaching mixed climbing. I didn't want to be there because my back was just killing me. A couple of students were trying to lead a chimney, but each had gotten stuck at a chockstone and had lowered off. They asked me if I wanted to try it, since I had been giving pointers. I said, "I can't promise anything with my bad back, but since you have a nice sling on that chockstone, I'll give it a go. I'll guarantee this, it won't be pretty". It just about killed me putting on my crampons, and I 'm thinking, "what the fuck are you doing, man", as I grabbed my rack.

 

From the moment I climbed above the last piece, there was no pain, only me, my crampons, my tools and the rock. I faced left and stemmed up the chimney and mantled onto the chockstone. To my surprise, more difficult climbing lay above, but a couple of solid cam placements kept my head together. As the route laid back there was more snow and fewer tool placements. I buried the spike in the soft snow- don't pull too hard; let your feet do it.

 

I topped out with freezing hands, but still no back pain. I set up the belay and brought my follower up. It was only as his head appeared over the edge that enough adrenaline wore off for the pain in my back to seep back into my consciousness.

 

That is why I trad climb.

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Perhaps you, DFA, have not been out to Squamish lately. Some of the old core climbers there are still wearing lycra...

 

Perhaps you have not actually been climbing since 1990 or so, as no one paints on the lycra anymore. It's all natural fibers from Prana these days.
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