Info on Greg "The Hand"

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Kalimon

Social climber
Ridgway, CO
May 19, 2013 - 07:59pm PT
Thanks for posting Fistmon! Those were the best times in Camp 4 and the Valley and you were one of the colorful and sociable characters. I am glad I was fortunate enough to meet you.

Take care of yourself.
The Fist

Trad climber
reno,nv
May 19, 2013 - 08:04pm PT
Aw f*#k, I didn't catch this at the start of the thread. Yeah that's me. I paint-- it's what I should have been doing all those years I was trying to climb. I have some funny stories I'll share at some point. That hand appears to be an Elephantiasis which is caused by a Filarial worm which enters the body via a mosquito vector. It settles in lymph tissue and this poor individual has had the worm settle in the lymph tissue located near his left armpit where it's blocking the flow of lymphatic fluid. My condition is a Congenital Lymphedema and is nothing like that in severity. There are far worse images online of Elephantiasis. Remember the Butthole Surfers album? Balls in a wheelbarrow. For a good time call...
Watusi

Social climber
Newport, OR
May 19, 2013 - 10:23pm PT
Wow this thread brings back old memories...
KP Ariza

climber
SCC
May 19, 2013 - 11:46pm PT
Yes it does MP. I used to buy gear from Greg Lilly at his home "mountain shop" in Alpine the very first year I started climbing. Haven't thought about that dude since. Super nice English guy. Wonder what's up with him these days.

Greg, I started climbing with Skippy and Urmas around '83. Skippy had some good things to say about you. That Squaw house had quite an approach up a flight of 60 stairs or so. Especially after a day of climbing and of course, burning the herbs. Skip was good folks.
The Fist

Trad climber
reno,nv
May 20, 2013 - 12:12am PT
Some corrections on Paul "Zubie" Azubalis. I knew Zubie pretty well having lived with him briefly after living in "The House of God" on Tahoe's west shore ghetto Tahoma. The House of God btw was Carol Moyer (who sadly fell to her death on the Tangerine Trip in I believe '83,) housemother and girlfriend to fellow God-squad member John Allen (who helped pioneer 5.12 on gritstone,) Kiwi Jeff Shrimpton, Duncan (who I suspect is "London Climber" on this thread,) and Matt, neither of whose last names can I recall in my advanced years. All house denizens were fairly hard-core born again Christians except myself who had to repair to the porch in sub-freezing weather to smoke a joint. The Brits were all very nice blokes as it were, and Carol was a sweet person. By the way it was a two bedroom house with six of us in it, John and Carol in one room and Jeff, Duncan, and Matt in the other with me surfing downstairs, but I digress...

Zubie was no stoner or acid burnout, although I can't be certain his seemingly fractured character wasn't the result of having taken acid long before I met him in the Valley around '80. He never relayed any stories that would lead me to believe that was the case, and after all he had been an Eagle Scout of all things. He had a fairly wild way about him, a purely manic laugh that came seemingly out of nowhere, and he was horribly accident prone.

A partial list of his accidents were: Falling water skiing on Lake Tahoe, which resulted in a pinched nerve in an arm that rendered it useless for a year. Falling ice climbing and hitting the ground from 60 to 80 feet which knocked him out for six hours (this was before we met and I suspect inaugurated the spacey yet frenetic nature that was his character.) Worst of all: Riding his mountain bike down Highway 50 from Spooner Summit he came around a corner at a speed of around 50 mph (according to Zubie,) and he collided with a Carson City utility truck of some type that was parked in the middle of the road, The accident left him in a coma for six weeks, and after that his character became really fractured.

Zubie was a really nice guy that would give you the shirt off his back, and he always had beautiful girlfriends. When i returned from England around '88 I was at loose ends, and divided my time between speed fueled obsessive-compulsive sex and going to hardcore punk shows with my sixteen year-old girlfriend in Los Angeles, climbing in The Valley, and hanging out at Zubie's bicycle/climbing shop Spooner Mountain Sports in Carson City, Nevada. I also stayed with him and his gorgeous wife (whose name for the life of me escapes me,) on L Street in Virginia City. The one-dimensional podunk folks in Carson city were all sure Zubie was on drugs and I know for a fact he didn't even smoke weed.

Zubie eventually lost his shop due to non-existent bookkeeping practices, and the last time I saw him was around 2005 at the Zephyr Bar in Reno. I hate to say it but the knock-outs and coma had taken their toll and Zubie wasn't the same. He was there with his plain-looking, heavy set girlfriend, who seemed to double as his nurse. He was practically drooling is how I remember him the last time I ran into him, and it left me fairly depressed for a few days. If he's still around I hope he's okay because he was kind, generous, and would never hurt a fly.
The Fist

Trad climber
reno,nv
May 20, 2013 - 12:19am PT
Greg Lilly went to prison for attacking another English guy whose name was I believe "Strappo," with a baseball bat as Strappo slept. He thought the guy was sleeping with his wife and he nearly beat him to death. Gnarly. I used to buy gear from him too, and he let me stay with him from time to time when I was homeless. I would never have guessed he had that sort of violence in him.
KP Ariza

climber
SCC
May 20, 2013 - 12:34am PT
Damn, Lilly wasn't quite the docile flower he portrayed himself to be it turns out....

Edited: When I met Zube he certainly smoked alright. How could you not kickin' it with Skip? I don't mean that in a bad way. Dope was just a necessity on those climbing trips. Almost more so than food and water. Zube was along when we did a new route on Hammer Dome at Calaveras in '85 or so. Smoking is about all he/we did for two days straight on that trip. I remember that bellowing laugh he'd bust out with. Funny sh#t.
The Fist

Trad climber
reno,nv
May 20, 2013 - 12:35am PT
I'd forgotten that you lived there too Craig, but I remember now that you've unlocked that door in my memory. I remember Andy ran a tow truck and waxed the ends of his mustache, and I remember one day I cashed my unemployment check in Tahoe City and went to use the pay phone at Safeway on the east end of town. When I took the quarter out of my pocket to make the call I unknowingly lifted a hundred dollar bill out too which fell to the ground unnoticed by me, but not by the guy waiting behind me to use the phone. I ran back three minutes later and the money and they guy were gone. That was my rent money which was due that day. I got home that early evening around six and told Andy what happened. he was already well sauced as he was most of the time if I recall, and thought I was lying to him. I wasn't, and as I protested my innocence he replied by punching me in the head a half-dozen times while I tried to block his punches with mixed results. I forget what happened after that but I believe I moved out within a few days as I had no recourse to get rent together again. Since that day I haven't lost more than a few dollars at any one time. I learned a hard, painful lesson care of Andy's fists.
The Fist

Trad climber
reno,nv
May 20, 2013 - 12:39am PT
Lord, I have some good stories about "Duh" Simpleton and Mud flats Bob Schoenard "The Aid Man" who I did my first (and nearly last,) wall with. I'll get back after I slap some more paint.
The Fist

Trad climber
reno,nv
May 20, 2013 - 01:11am PT
I've got to disagree with FRUMY. I'd never go around rating something 11b/c or even a because I couldn't climb 5.11a. I fell off the same move on Maggie's Farm for years and years. After I came back from England and had been in The Valley for a while I had occasion to go to Stoney and borrow a TR on Maggie's and I fired it, fairly easily to my utter surprise. They had to lower me in a hurry because my jaw was on the ground. I never tried it again because I didn't want to tarnish a good memory. Maybe he's thinking of Scott "The Old Man" Loomis, or maybe he's embellishing?
pyro

Big Wall climber
Calabasas
Topic Author's Reply - May 20, 2013 - 01:42am PT
greg thank's for the response. have you had time to get cole's video of stoney point?

also:russ wrote

May 19, 2013 - 09:23pm PT


Yes it does MP. I used to buy gear from Greg Lilly at his home "mountain shop" in Alpine the very first year I started climbing. Haven't thought about that dude since. Super nice English guy. Wonder what's up with him these days.

Lithium Lilly? Isn't he the guy who beat Strappo with a lead pipe as Strappo slept in a hammock on his porch? Last I heard Lithium Lilly was doing like a 30 year stretch in the pen.

Fist!!!! Glad to read you are around and still viable and functioning! Good for you man! Your stories are great and bring back some memories... Carol Moyer? John Allen? Good stuff. Inflatable man? hahaha.... nice one. Hope to read more. Cheers!

Ps: How about D'Simpleton? Remember him?
stich

Trad climber
Colorado Springs, Colorado
May 20, 2013 - 08:01am PT
Really nice turn of events on this thread with Greg signing up and telling his own set of stories.
pyro

Big Wall climber
Calabasas
Topic Author's Reply - May 20, 2013 - 12:12pm PT
greg wrote about frumy:
or maybe he's embellishing

i know the past couple weeks his back has made him out of it.
Sewellymon

climber
.....in a single wide......
May 20, 2013 - 01:30pm PT
I got married and sort of faded from the scene by the early 80’s, so my best clearest memory of DaFist ..

Tahquitz Memorial Day weekend 1980. Cold, foggy/cloudy weather descended upon the Strawberry Valley and daytime highs were like 33F and visibility was naught. We were up there freezing and climbing what we could. I recall Greg had a mountaineering-like experience on perhaps the Hard Larks? Seemed like a sporting adventure…

Now, Robert Carrera (The Simpleton)- we’ve got LOTS of stories about him…… he’s still around? Also an artist? Been seen at some sort of Malibu Crags in recent years?
stich

Trad climber
Colorado Springs, Colorado
May 20, 2013 - 02:43pm PT
F, I'm pretty sure Greg mentions that he gradually dropped the accent with the exception of some word usage that has stuck around. Now if you want to see someone that went to England for a week and came back with the attempted accent, smoking Dunhills, and wearing goddamned sweaters in August in Houston then that would be my sixteen-year-old brother.
pyro

Big Wall climber
Calabasas
Topic Author's Reply - May 20, 2013 - 03:06pm PT
dr F the mimms and HDM are topics on their own....
Sewellymon

climber
.....in a single wide......
May 20, 2013 - 08:11pm PT
HDM = Human Drug Machine.

(HDM and I actually climbed something. The Coming on Medlicott).
pyro

Big Wall climber
Calabasas
Topic Author's Reply - May 21, 2013 - 11:18am PT
hey i think the Hand was not such the wingman but the Fist can make an awesome wingman.

Greg the fist can u post up some recent pic's of you along with some ole climber pic's if ya gott em'.

i'm heading over to stoney this late afternoon so i'll take some pic's for you!
The Fist

Trad climber
reno,nv
May 21, 2013 - 12:45pm PT
I'm trying to respond categorically to the first page of innuendo, slander, and fun fact I landed on, but in order to not become overwhelmed and be sent reeling into Wal-Mart (where my therapist keeps his office in the soothing pastels of the bath towel section,) I'll jump ahead. I am, by the way, very color conscious. My band was a hardcore punk band called BOHJ (Baby Oil Hand Job, 1990-1993.) On the night in question there were three bands and we were headlining. My band was on stage tuning up a few minutes before we were scheduled to begin, when my fiancee ran up to me and said that her life had just been threatened outside in the parking lot. I went to see what the problem was and without exchanging a word got into a fight with a large Nazi skinhead, who it turns out was all of 15 years old. Evidently, he was extremely upset because he wasn't old enough to enter the venue the show was at, which happened to be a bar. With everyone inside (about 300 people, a majority of whom I was acquainted with) waiting to see the show, it was just me and the neo-knucklehead going at it in the empty parking lot. I never saw the knife nor felt it. My friend Loni stepped outside the venue, saw the fight and came down to assist, which allowed me to break off. As I walked away I noticed something odd, and, looking down at my arm I saw blood jetting 10 feet with every beat of my heart. I was covered in blood. The motherf*#ker stabbed me, I thought as I walked to the front steps of the bar to sit down. Pushing my arm into my lap in an effort to control the bleeding I became aware of something odd under my shirt, and lifting it up I was greeted by my own glistening entrails. Although eviscerated, I know enough about medicine to realize that since blood wasn't pouring from my trunk, and with a hospital nearby I wasn't in any serious danger... it didn't even hurt. People began pouring out of the venue, including Debbie who let my band practice in her basement. She also happened to be an ER trauma nurse and took charge, ordering me to lay back, then yelling "Get me hot towels! Everyone get back and give him some breathing room!" Someone came out of the bar and handed Debbie a handful of towels which she used to take my insides that were outside and put them back inside, then leaned on them with all her body weight. It hurt like an absolute motherf*#ker, and I was never so happy as when I made it into surgery and they brought that mask down over my face. When I was wheeled into post-op six hours later I was the proud owner of 84 new staples. I'd been nicked over the eye and on my liver, and had a number of defense wounds on the back of my left forearm. Just a few inches over... if my liver had been centered odds are excellent I would have bled out, and I wouldn't be writing these words today. The kid stabbed Loni getting him through his leather belt and losing his grip on the knife now slick with my blood he ran, running with all the intelligence 15 years brings into the casino of a Holiday Inn. Wearing a white t-shirt covered in my blood he was arrested within minutes, and Simeon Able MacDonald ultimately ended up serving three months in the county lock-up for the two counts of attempted murder. Getting cut at that show was one of the most fortuitous events of my life. Before that evening I'd spent the previous two years working at Deux Gros Nez coffee shop. If you worked the Western Outdoor Retail Show back when it was still held in Reno you possibly went there. I hated working in the service industry, but it was the only job in Reno where you were allowed to be human. Taken off the schedule indefinitely I lost my job. My stripper-fiancee Monique (who had a rocking body and a brown-bag face,) impressed with my newly helpless condition dumped me. Unable to pay my bills I lost my apartment. In short, I lost everything, and with nothing left to lose I decided to take my talent seriously and teach myself to paint. My paintings began selling immediately, and at my second art show held at the Blue Heron health food restaurant I sold two paintings for $2,400. My rent at the time was $100 per month, and the sale allowed me to paint full-time. Since then I've completed nearly 1,000 paintings, and while I don't make a lot of money, I make enough, and the stories that people bring to me about what my work has meant to them is something money can't buy. As far as my politics goes
Elcapinyoazz

Social climber
Joshua Tree
May 21, 2013 - 01:08pm PT
Hey Greg, any photos of your paintings you can post? These stories are great. Disemboweled! Damn dude, that's gnarly. Can't believe the kid only served 3mo.
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