You Want Climbing Lore - Here's Part 2


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Ice climber
Apr 22, 2019 - 02:18pm PT

Good reads
Don Lauria

Trad climber
Bishop, CA
Topic Author's Reply - Apr 22, 2019 - 02:20pm PT
Cohen on Roper

Just remembered another “Roper the pilot” story as related to me by Michael Cohen:

Seems, decades ago, Steve and Michael (and maybe others) flew to some remote canyon in the Southwest to explore. Roper put his plane down uphill into a box canyon.

When the time came to return home, Roper realized the predicament he had created upon landing. He had little room to take off and avoid the surrounding mountains.

In preparation for the takeoff, with engine idling, Roper exited the cockpit and marched off ahead of the plane. After reaching some particular distance, Steve removed a handkerchief from his pocket and placed at his feet. When he returned the plane Michael asked, “What’s the handkerchief for Steve?” Roper’s reply, “I want you to keep your eye on that handkerchief as we takeoff. If we’re not airborne by the time we reach it, yell and I’ll abort.”

Roper revved the engine and the plane began moving, gaining more speed, and more speed, and Michael’s eyes were glued to the assigned marker. Still on the ground as they passed the handkerchief, Michael yelled, and instantly turned to Roper. Roper, jaw set, his eyes firmly fixed ahead, the plane still on the ground, still at full throttle, was leaning forward, pleading, “Come on, baby! Come on baby!”

Michael’s yell to no avail, Roper pressed on. Since both of them are still alive, you know they made it.
Don Lauria

Trad climber
Bishop, CA
Topic Author's Reply - Apr 22, 2019 - 02:28pm PT
My Friend TM Herbert

Back in late January of 2014, Bob Palais, representing the American Alpine Club, emailed me requesting some help in prying TM Herbert out of his reluctance to attend the annual dinner in Denver to receive an honorary membership in the AAC. Yvon Chouinard was to be guest speaker at the event and Bob assumed that would be sufficient leverage to pry TM from his obstinate dislike of being associated with any "club". TM never belonged to the AAC and never intended, ever, to belong!

Bob had tried via telephone to coax TM to attend. "TM, it's an all-expense-paid trip. We'll fly you to Denver, rent you a car, give you a hotel suite, pay for your dinner, present you with an engraved plaque honoring you as a member of the AAC. We'll fly you back home to Reno all at no expense to you. You can even sit next to Yvon and Malinda!" "No way. Not interested. Never wanted to be a member of the American Alpine Club." That was TM's response. Bob pleaded to no avail.

Then he emailed me for help. Bob wanted me to call TM and do a little arm twisting. I did, but I knew that it would be futile. One doesn't twist TM's arm - not without realizing that one cannot actually even grip his arm. I called TM, the resistance was fierce and the result was negative.

I suggested that Bob contact Tom Herbert, TM's medical doctor son, to see if Tom could change his mind. Bob asked me to make the call. I did and Tom said he'd try, but thought it would be useless. "You know my Dad, he's stubborn." Tom was right, it was useless.

Finally, driven to extreme measures, Bob, holding a plaque engraved with TM's name and no one to accept it, conferred with Phil Powers, the presidentof the AAC. They came up with a plan: Let Lauria accept it for him. Halleluah!

I, of course, accepted the invitation. It would be the fourth Annual Dinner I'd been able to attend since Yvon talked me into joining the AAC back in 1967. I attended one in Berkeley back in the early 70s when I was chairman of the SoCal AAC section, I was in Aspen, Colorado sometime in the early 80s when my daughter was still at U of CO, and I was in Vegas in 1987. Now 17 years later I got to attend another one - all expenses paid!

It all went well. I arrived at the hotel in downtown Denver on a Friday evening and the first people I met in the lobby were Yvon and Malinda. I explained my presence and they fully understood the circumstance. Yvon commented, "It's classic "Herbert".

The presentation went off Saturday without a hitch and without revelation of Herbert's obstinacy. The next day I flew back arriving in Reno around 8 PM. I was sitting in my hotel room in Sparks holding the very attractive plaque when it occurred to me that TM lived just a few blocks away, why not deliver it to him right now. I called him and got directions to his house. When I arrived TM was standing out front waving his arms wildly. I crossed the street, my arm outstretched, with his plaque in my hand. He took it and without the least hesitation, did one of his patented fake baseball pitches - as if to toss the damn thing back across the street.

Later, in his front room, he placed the trophy on top of the TV. There it stood:

TM Herbert
Honorary Member
American Alpine Club 2014

I think he was proud.

Don Lauria

Trad climber
Bishop, CA
Topic Author's Reply - Apr 22, 2019 - 02:32pm PT
Semper Farcissimus with considerable help from Roger Derryberry
Warren Harding
June 18, 1924 - February 27, 2002

“Warren Harding? Well, what can I say?”

That’s exactly how Warren would have started his own obituary. His usual demeanor was self-deprecating: To the question, “Are you the famous Warren Harding?”, he would retort, “Well, I used to be.”

He believed that people are never what they were. We all grow … older.

Harding died at home in Anderson, California, well aware that the end was near. He had been in failing health for over three years and refused to exchange his lifestyle for an extended life span. He approached his end with the same wit that he exhibited throughout his life. From his bed, just days before he died, he quipped that he was definitely never going to buy any more 50,000-mile-warranty tires.

Warren was introduced to climbing at the age of 27 in 1952 and within a year had found his niche in Yosemite Valley. Most of us remember Harding as the Yosemite pioneer -- the prime mover in the first ascent of El Capitan in 1958, via the Nose, a milestone that marked the first time a wall of such size and difficulty had been climbed anywhere in the world. His first ascents of El Cap, the East Buttress and North Buttress of Middle Cathedral Rock, the West Face of the Leaning Tower, the East Face of Washington Column (later freed as Astroman), the South Face of Mount Watkins, the Direct Route on the Lost Arrow, and the South Face of Half Dome spanned the next two decades. In the Sierra high country, he established first ascents on the East Face of Keeler Needle and the Southwest Face of Mount Conness.

Beyond his groundbreaking ascents, Warren was characterized variously as a rebel, iconoclast, and rogue. In his outrageous book Downward Bound, published in 1975, Harding described himself as “an undersized individual … [with] neither any outstanding physical attributes nor burning ambition. But I have a mind of my own and a love for the mountains.” Despite this self-description, Harding was a dashing figure in his heyday, well known for his penchant for good-looking women, classy sports cars, and Red Mountain wine.

And he did have a mind of his own and used it in formulating his climbing philosophy. He looked upon climbing as “an individual thing, not some kind of organized religion.” He was unimpressed and refused to be intimidated by admittedly “better climbers” when they espoused certain “climbing ethics.” Warren never hesitated to take on those whom he referred to as the “elite” of the climbing community and didn’t mince words in his castigation of “these gentlemen who, in effect, presume to tell me how to do my thing.” Climbing to him was something he did because there were no rules.

When he and Dean Caldwell completed their 27-day first ascent of the Wall of the Early Morning Light (a.k.a. the Dawn Wall) on El Cap in 1970, their placement of 330 bolts re-ignited a controversy that had smoldered in the Valley since Warren drilled his first bolt-hole. Was Harding putting up routes where no route existed or should exist? Excessive bolts and fixed ropes were being judged as “unethical.” To that sentiment Warren replied, “Climbing requires many disciplines, not the least of which is plain old ass-busting work, which is what bolts amount to!”

Royal Robbins, in concert with a few other well-respected Yosemite climbers, decided that the route should be erased. Two months after the first ascent, Robbins and Don Lauria did the second ascent, chopping the bolts as they climbed. On the first bivouac, after four pitches, the question of interfering with an established route -- especially one with some admirably difficult nailing -- began to eat at Robbins. By morning theye agreed to quit chopping. Robbins later wrote, “[It’s] good to have a man around who doesn’t give a damn what the establishment thinks … Harding stands out as a magnificent maverick.”

By the late 1970s Warren put serious Yosemite climbing behind him and dedicated his time to writing, lectures, slideshow tours, and the occasional sojourn into the mountains. Never giving up his union card, he worked off and on as a surveyor for the State of California. As he put it, “I’ll just plug along. Climb, work, climb, have an occasional glass of wine.” Into the 1980s there was a lot less climbing, a lot less work, and finally retirement -- and a lot more glasses of wine. He did, however, return to the Nose in 1989 to become, at that time, the oldest person to ever climb El Capitan.

Harding’s affinity for Red Mountain wine was his eventual and inevitable undoing. By the time he reached his 70s, he had been warned that his liver would not last if he continued to imbibe. When the end was near and his body began to shut down, he became confused and a little delusional. He wanted to know what was happening to him. The conversation led to discussing the Buddhists’ belief that the soul leaves the dying body and enters an embryo to emerge anew in a child. Harding pleaded weakly, “But how will you find me?”

During these last days, many of Harding’s old climbing friends began to visit. On one occasion it was planned to videotape Warren and some of his friends while they swapped stories of the golden era of Yosemite climbing. When his friends arrived they spent an hour or so greeting one another. Warren became impatient and whispered to the cameraman, “Do they realize there’s not much time left?”

During one of these story-swapping sessions, someone asked Warren which of all his bivouacs was the worst. He
answered without hesitation that the storm-bound bivouac on Half Dome’s South Face route was his worst. Immediately he was asked which was his best. He grinned, and almost in a whisper, answered, “You’ll have to ask my girlfriends.”

Finally, someone asked what he would do differently if he had it to do over again. He replied, “I would be taller, smarter, and less nasty.” Warren Harding? Have we said enough?

Don Lauria

Trad climber
Bishop, CA
Topic Author's Reply - Apr 22, 2019 - 02:37pm PT
Ron Gomez,

My favorites are in the 8 that I posted 10 years ago.
Don Lauria

Trad climber
Bishop, CA
Topic Author's Reply - Apr 22, 2019 - 02:43pm PT

Where do you start with TM? Let's start with his name. As related to me by TM himself, his parents never attached names to the initials. According to his version, his birth certificate has only initials on it. Now it's not unusual for people to be called by nicknames - sometimes by their initials. My son Don was usually referred to as "DJ" by his immediate family, but Herbert took it further. He says his name is "TM" and he should never be referred to as T.M. Herbert because the T and the M don't stand for names.
Okay, we got it, but do we believe it? I always have taken him at his word, so I believe it.

Okay, that's a start. Now to explore the character. Talk about characters! TM is The American Climbing Character. Anybody professing knowledge of American rock climbing history knows of TM Herbert.

TM is the guy who wore a swami belt of 1-inch tubular nylon for part or possibly all of a climbing season without realizing the webbing had a splice maintained by masking tape somewhere around mid-length. TM is the person that wrote those outrageously funny notes to me in the 70s imploring me to climb with him - stories funny enough to be published and republished. How can one forget his description of his physical prowess:"... I now weigh 103% lb. and can still lift the front end of a D-9 tractor. And also I can hold a full lever on the high bar with my wee-wee."

I was climbing Nutcracker Suite with TM back in the 70s.Above the crux somewhere we caught up with a couple of young climbers who were obviously finding the climbing a tad difficult. They were intently watching TM. As Herbert approached them finishing a difficult pitch involving a little lie-backing, he began what I have always referred to as Herbertian whimpering. Gasping agonizingly, "Watch me here! I'm losing it! Waaaaaatch me!" The young climbers were beginning to anticipate a catastrophic fall and visibly trembling. TM began muttering, for their benefit as he moved cautiously upward, "Five-eight ... five-eight ... oh, oh, 5.9 ...No only five-eight ...Watch me here!" All of a sudden, with his arms flailing, TM leapt from the lie-back landing right in front of the frightened spectators and began strolling up the steep face toward them gleefully dragging the rope behind him. His hands outstretched toward them, he broke into a trot, throwing in a few of his patented fake stumbles, "Fourth class ... fourth class ..,I'm saved ...Thank the Lord, I'm saved." When I got to the belay spot shared with the kids, one of them whispered, "Is that TM Herbert?" I answered, "You think?"

TM hates RVs, house trailers, and the people that drive them. He once got so irate while trapped behind an RV on the Tioga road out of Lee Vining that he started pounding on his windshield. He pounded one too many times and it cracked. He told me that he once over took a guy in a house trailer coming up to Yosemite on the road out of Fresno. It seems the guy had passed up one too many turnouts for Herbert. He reached into the guy's window grabbed his keys and flung them far out into the brush and left him there with his mouth agape. These were the things that raised his ire.

Herbert can be and often is a very stubborn person. He has his way of doing things and it is near impossible to change his mind. He has his rituals and don't try to modify them. I don't know how many times he has insisted that I stop at the dwarf Cedar on the descent off of Stately Pleasure Dome. "You've got to look at this tree. It's almost as wide as it is tall." I have repeatedly told him as we approached the tree that I am aware of its aspect ratio and that he is merely repeating himself. To no avail, "You've got to look at this tree. It's almost as wide as it is tall."

For years TM refused to buy a down jacket. He believed, because Chouinard convinced him, that wool was the only thing for bivouacs. "Stays warm even if it gets wet!" For that reason, he never slept on a bivouac because he was always too cold. I've mentioned before how he became a convert on the first ascent of BHOS Dome, but I didn't mention that the conversion was successful only because he forgot his wool sweater and was forced to accept the loan of a down jacket.

Just ask his former wife, Jan. Anything inside the house was "squaw work'. "Braves" chopped wood. Braves did manly things. None of that girly housework for this brave. In fact, to some extent, Herbert was drawn away from a promising teaching career because carpentry was a man's job - none of that wishy-washy political maneuvering in the educational field for him.

Don't expect Herbert to accept your hospitality. He has ingrained in his sculpted cranium that it is an
imposition to eat at your dinner table or sleep on your sheets. He often has insisted that he be able to heat his can of Dinty Moore stew on your stove while you ate your separate dinner. If he accepted a bed to sleep on, he always spread his sleeping bag on it - never turned the covers. Rather than eat at your table he will insist on going out to dinner - on him. In the old days that meant taking you to Sizzler because, "They have a great salad bar".

As a climber he was as safe as any I've ever climbed with. He didn't take chances with the weather. He always placed bombproof belay anchors and never trusted a single rappel anchor unless it was a tree or a new bolt. That's not to say he ever rappelled off a questionable anchor. He did if he had to, but he still didn't trust it.

TM's ability as a climber relied heavily on his strength. For someone who never weighed more than 160 pounds he had incredible strength. I use the past tense because he has quit climbing and working in Patagonia's shipping department is not like working out at the gym. He quit climbing when his eyes got so bad he had trouble focusing on the holds and climbing with glasses was out of the question. Last time I saw him I noticed his hearing aids and listened to his complaints of dwindling strength. If you've ever experienced the firm grasp of your wrist by an adamant TM Herbert, then you know how insistent he can be. I would guess that at his age he's still relatively strong, but he's not up to his old standards and that means he can't do what he used to do - climb.

Discussion of his incredible strength brings to mind one of TMs few winter mountaineering excursions. It was 1969.Yvon Chouinard, Doug Tompkins, TM Herbert, Bill Lang, Eric Rayson, and I spent about a week in the Northern Selkirks of Canada. We did a little climbing, but before making any attempts we warmed up on easy terrain with some snow and ice practice. On a steep, firm snow slope, we practiced self-arrests. TM had very little experience in this venture and on his first running start he flung himself at high speed down the slope. In a fruitless attempt at rolling onto his axe and plunging the pick into the snow, he gave up and while descending at breakneck speed, he rolled onto his back and with his right arm outstretched, ice axe gripped firmly, he plunged the spike of the shaft into the snow and came to an immediate arm wrenching stop. How anyone could have maintained a grip on the shaft under such circumstances still boggles my mind. But then I remember his firm grasp on my wrist and I understand.

Thank god TM doesn't have a computer and probably never will - did I say he was stubborn? Unless someone, maybe his eldest, shows him this stuff, he'll get it all word-of-mouth, subject to the usual inaccuracies. So I'll always be able to claim that it was not quite what I said or that I didn't say it at all.

So to finish up this brief series, there's the time I and Susie Condon went to Baja with the Herbert family. We were all packed into his Chevy Suburban or International Travelall or whatever - TM, with his crewcut, Susie with her very blond hair, Jan with her infant son in her arms, and me along with chaise lounges, coolers, boxes of food, water containers, camping stove, sleeping bags, and tents. We went as far south as San Felipe and had a wonderful trip. On the return, as we were passing through the border station out of Tijuana, the border guards, for God knows what reason pulled us over. If there was ever a more straight-laced looking group, I couldn't imagine it. Herbert was flabbergasted. Why me? Look I'm an American, a veteran, a father, an upright citizen. Why me?

All to no avail, they took everything out of the car and then began taking the inside side panels off. They used mirrors under the fenders and the frame. In all we were delayed over an hour. When they finished looking they said, "Okay, you can put it all back together now." Then it took us another half hour to put the panels back on and reload the car.

The entire 125 mile trip back to Los Angeles was a non-stop Herbert tirade. The language was colorful and descriptive. The adjectives flowed eloquently from TM's lips. I had never heard the Border Patrol described in so many different ways - all derogatory. I had no idea Nixon's parentage was so questionable. I learned that there was a conspiracy against all of us with its protagonists firmly entrenched in Washington, D.C. I was totally surprised to learn that they hadn't found the pot stash someone unknown had left in the glove compartment. A remnant from a party at which the Herberts were designated drivers.
Don Lauria

Trad climber
Bishop, CA
Topic Author's Reply - Apr 22, 2019 - 02:48pm PT
Tom Limp

Tom Limp passed on a while back after a short bout with Alzheimer’s.

Where do you begin with Tom Limp?

For me it all began when I was introduced to him in a restaurant at lunch time when we both worked at North American Aviation in El Segundo. It was 1962 and I had just become interested in mountain climbing and Tom had been suggested to me as a potential climbing partner. My first impression was “this skinny guy is a mountaineer?” Little did I know – Tom had climbed all of the Sierra Club’s emblem peaks and all of the 14,000 footers in California before I met him.

We became close friends. We spent many years together hiking and climbing in the mountains. Did I say together? You had trouble staying up with Tom in the mountains. He was one of the fastest hikers I ever knew. Tom was a distance runner in high school and he still had that stamina. In fact, he started me running at the age of 40. I had never run more than mile in my life - by the time I was 46 Tom had seen me complete 5 marathons.
In 1966, we opened a small mountaineering store in west Los Angeles – West Ridge Mountaineering . The business grew considerably over the years and became the center of our lives. We went from 500 square feet to 25,000 - - our gross income went from $90K to $1M. Tom split off from the retail end and began his own manufacturing business in the same building. During those years Tom got me started riding long bicycling distances. Our first ride together was from Santa Monica to Santa Maria and back. Within a year, I was riding in double centuries – 200 miles in a day!

During those years at West Ridge Tom met and eventually married Norma. Tom and Norma led many trips to Central and South America to climb the most challenging mountains in those regions. They called their operation Freelance Alpine Research Team (FART).

Our interests in West Ridge Mountaineering were sold in 1981 and Tom and I went our separate ways. Tom and Norma moved their manufacturing business to Tucson and I moved to Bishop. We kept in touch. Tom bought a new home in Bishop and rented it to me in 1988.

My interest in bicycling, kindled by Tom back 1972, was reignited in 1983 and I spent the next 20 years in training for an annual Death Valley to Mt Whitney bicycle race. The same Mt Whitney whose east face Tom and I had climbed in 1963.

You might get the idea that Tom had a lot of influence on my life – well, he did. He helped me develop my climbing skills, he introduced me to distance running, he started me bicycling, and he was my partner in business. He was my best man at my second marriage.

Tom was a practical man – Henry Ford type of engineer. He knew the tricks of mass production and incorporated them in his manufacturing. He spent time figuring out more efficient ways of doing the most menial tasks – keying in times on the microwave – just hit 66 instead of 60 – or 44 instead of 40 – it was just quicker. He wasn’t very good at verbalizing his ideas, but great at demonstrating them. He sometimes said things that left you scratching your head until the wisdom slowly came to the surface.

We were both doing a lot of rock climbing at Stoney Point in southern California back in the early 70s. The Sierra Club was going to have a belaying practice session at Stoney one Sunday and I asked Tom if he was interested. Belaying is the method used by climbers (the belayers) to hold a falling climber (the belayee) with the climbing rope. The Sierra Club used to practice the method by dropping a heavy weight to simulate a falling body. The result often resulted in wrenching the belayer from his or her perch with considerable force and discomfort. Tom’s response to my question was “Why do I want to practice dying, when the time comes, I will.”

He did.
Don Lauria

Trad climber
Bishop, CA
Topic Author's Reply - Apr 22, 2019 - 02:51pm PT
Climbing History

My introduction to climbing began in September 1961. In a few other threads I’ve related the details of that introduction. You may have read from The Original Vulgarian:

“I spent the entire Saturday climbing at Stoney in a pair of John’s mountain boots two sizes too small for me. He took me around the entire area, climbing everything in sight. By the end of the day I could barely lift my arms. I was exhausted - but was I stoked!

That evening at John’s apartment, … , John [Hansen] filled me with Gerwurztraminer and tales from his Vulgarian Shawangunks days. Well into the evening he talked about mountaineering – famous European and American climbers and climbing history. He pulled six mountaineering books off his shelf and insisted I take them home and read them.”

My reading list included:

Gaston Rebuffat’s Starlight and Storm
Lionel Terray’s Conquistadors of the Useless
Maurice Herzog’s Annapurna
Edward Whymper’s Scrambles Amongst the Alps
Clarence King’s Mountaineering in the Sierra Nevada
A.F. Mummery’s My Climbs in the Alps and the Caucasus

Needless-to-say, my “introduction” included a basic history lesson. The Golden Age of Yosemite had just begun. Books covering that Age did not yet exist. Any Yosemite history was brief and oral, but John filled in what he knew from Anderson through Salathe, Steck, Harding, Robbins, Frost, Chouinard, and Pratt.

In September of 1962, I completed my first Yosemite climb (Higher Cathedral Spire) and finished off Hansen’s reading list. A pile of back issues of Summit Magazine brought me pretty much up-to-date.

I had acquired a respectable background in the history of climbing and most importantly I had, and still retain, considerable respect for that history. Should be a required prerequisite to calling yourself a climber.
ron gomez

Trad climber
Apr 22, 2019 - 03:02pm PT
Don I still have one of those Semper Farcissimus shirts Derryberry printed up. Still in mint shape, I try not to wear it. I’ll take a photo of it when I get home. Yours if you want it. Would be a worthy gift. Keep this stuff reading in years.
D Murph

Apr 22, 2019 - 07:16pm PT
I'm loving this thread.. thank you!
ron gomez

Trad climber
Apr 22, 2019 - 07:43pm PT
“I had acquired a respectable background in the history of climbing and most importantly I had, and still retain, considerable respect for that history. Should be a required prerequisite to calling yourself a climber.” Don Lauria

Amen Don, I have had this conversation with many people, climbers newer to climbing have no interest in history....well that goes back any further than their birthdate. I studied as much history of a climb before I even attempted it and read as much as I could about climbing history as I was learning to climb and still study the history. That’s why this thread is so valuable and people like you, Kerwin Klein and Steve Grossman, among other contributors are so important to our history.

Trad climber
Anchorage, AK
Apr 22, 2019 - 09:06pm PT
This thread and threads like it are what have made Supertopo a unique and treasured resource for climbers.

Having read stories about Robbins, TM, Frost, Kor and others when I got into climbing had an impact on how I climbed.
Podunk Climber

Trad climber
Apr 23, 2019 - 12:36pm PT
Bump for Bishop

Social climber
Apr 23, 2019 - 04:14pm PT
This has been a well spent hour reading your stories--Thanks for sharing Don

Trad climber
Ouray, Colorado
Apr 23, 2019 - 04:16pm PT
Keep them coming Don, you’re helping me relive my youth.

Social climber
wandering star
Apr 24, 2019 - 08:55am PT
Thank you DL. I enjoy the full meal deals.

Mountain climber
Colorado & Nepal
Apr 24, 2019 - 09:26am PT
Thanks so much! This represents the best of Supertopo. You have a unique gift of having lived through the Golden Age and also being able to remember and tell about it in a wonderful way.
norm larson

wilson, wyoming
Apr 24, 2019 - 10:30am PT
Thanks for the blasts from the past.

Trad climber
Ventura, CA
Apr 24, 2019 - 01:57pm PT
These really deserve to be in a book!

Glen Denny has a book with stories, similar in tone to these. It is called "Valley Walls"

It evokes a time and place that is gone (the Valley with just a few adventurous climbers) .... except that it lives on in his words !!!!


Mountain climber
Colorado & Nepal
Apr 25, 2019 - 09:02am PT
I think a lot of the historical material on Supertopo if it hasn't been erased already, should be in a book.
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