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philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
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Topic Author's Original Post - Nov 24, 2008 - 03:17am PT
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Here is the fabulous original Tarbuster thread.
http://www.supertopo.com/climbing/thread.html?topic_id=199706&msg=646368#msg646368
And hoping to keep it alive here is another phabulous moment in philbert phoolery.
Tom Pulaski is a name that should be familiar to Black Canyon afficianados and aspirants alike. Tall, immensely powerfull, doggedly focused and frightfully fearless Tom was at one time and for a long time the only person to have done all five routes on the Painted Wall including one of his own. That might not sound like such a big deal these days what with the Hallucinogen being climbed in under eight hours and the mind boggling link ups being done but believe me in the seventies it was way tubular.
I consider myself more than fortunate to have had a mentor like Tom Pulaski in those early days and nights. It would be virtually impossible for me to explain all that I gained under his tutilege. And seeing as he and I are both Pollocks no one would believe either of us ever learned anything anyway. But one lesson I will always retain is the value of raisins. Yeah that's right raisins. You know those wrinkled grapes everyone takes for granted.
When Tom and I headed up what was to become known as the Diagonal Will it turned out to be the third ascent of the wall, second free ascent of the route and first unplanned bivy for me. I learned alot that long cold night. We had planned for a one day ascent of the route and seemed certain to make it until a major route decision was needed high on the wall. At the point where the Digonal Will diverges from the original Swallow Wall route a monumental decision needs to be addressed. After so much hard and dangerous climbing Tom was vexed and undecided about which way to go. I was fairly overwhelmed having just realized that the rock that hit me in the arm pit a few pitches earlier had in fact gashed me open pretty good and broken a rib or two. To me both directions looked too terrifying to be burdened with the choice and I was more than glad to let Superman make that decision. So with plenty of daylight left we just sat down on the only available dollop of horizontal terrain and contemplated our future. In the end we waited through the long night unable to choose.
That night I learned that if I had only had knee pads they pretty neatly seal up the cuffs of your Carharts from those nasty cold canyon air blasts up your legs. I learned that cuddling didn't have to be too personal. But I also learned about raisins. Not planning to bivy we had nothing with us. Nothing but the gear we started with which included one quart of water and a box of raisins. Yoy know one of those little packs you might have gotten in your lunch box as a kid. That was it. By the time we were settling in we had only a mouthfull each of water left but we had those raisins.
Tom told me some amazing but oddly believable stories about the incredible raisin.
At the early part of the 20th century when automobile travel was in it's infancy driving from Salida Colorado to Gunnison over what would become Monarch Pass was considered very extreme and chic. The ancient XGames in a way. Well while we sat there all night with Tom carefully feeding me one raisin at a time he told me about an early group of intrepid auto enthusiasts who got stranded in a storm and avalance for a week with nothing but raisins to survive on. These young men and women were eventually rescued but survived terrible conditions and credited raisins for their well being. Allright so I was a little dubious at first but I had to admit that in the early part of the night every raisin did take away thirst and give a enough of a sence of warmth to allieviate the shivering. Every half hour we got another raisin and the goal became trying to savor one raisin til the next. Then as the endless hours before dawn became quite unendurable Tom kicks in another amazing raisin story. He recounts a story of a famous Polish expedition that ran a foul of Monsoon weather up high. They hunker down for ten days with with what turns out to be nine raisins a day each. Then when the storm clears the crazy dudes go up and summit. Coming down unharmed they credited raisins for their well being.
Okay so, enrapt by Tom's stories of the hard men and women of yore, I suddenly realized that I had toughed it out. Sucking my last raisin to pulp as the morning sun began to peal back the night I knew as if for the first time there would be another day. As soon as we could see enough details Tom looked up and stared ahead. Then just like Gandalf faced with the decision between three tunnels in Moria he just said It's that way and that way we went. I credit raisins for our well being.
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dogtown
climber
Where I once was,I think?
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Nov 24, 2008 - 03:29am PT
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I love the black!! good story.
Thanks
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philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
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Topic Author's Reply - Nov 24, 2008 - 11:34am PT
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Now I almost always take raisins on adventures. Thank You Tom.
For everything.
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Steve Grossman
Trad climber
Seattle, WA
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Nov 24, 2008 - 11:52am PT
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Nice tale of the art of creative distraction! Please sir, may I have another.....
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philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
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Topic Author's Reply - Nov 25, 2008 - 11:37am PT
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Steve You are exactly correct. Even though raisins are a miracle food and do indeed give you a short term sense of warmth and moisture it was really the clever distraction factor that made that long cold night pass as well as it did. I really do still throw a box of raisins in my top pocket. But I have also used Tom's Tactic on several occassions with great success.
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philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
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Topic Author's Reply - Nov 25, 2008 - 12:59pm PT
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This story about Pulaski was previously posted in the Hooray for Ouray thread but is still classic. Tom is one of the most accomplished climbers I know, I would tie in with him and let him belay me anytime anywhere. He came to Boulder (to enroll his son at C.U.) and we all met at the Boulder Rock Club for a little diversion. I was running late with kids in tow (like herding kittens) and when I got there Tom was standing back with a stupid grin on his mug. He sheepishly told me he had flunked his belay test. I croaked laughing. The kid who gave him the test had probably been climbing less than a year and flunked a guy who climbed things beyond the testers wildest imagination. Seeing belay banned Tom standing next to a tiny ten year old with the belay OK was too funny.
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ydpl8s
Trad climber
Santa Monica, California
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Nov 25, 2008 - 02:38pm PT
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Two pics of Tom in his prime (1976)
Sorry first pic is out of focus, bad scan of slide.
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Handjam Belay
Gym climber
expat from the truth
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Nov 25, 2008 - 03:10pm PT
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Does he still play on the thin ice?
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philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
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Topic Author's Reply - Nov 25, 2008 - 03:11pm PT
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Hey MossMan Thanks for posting up. How's the new digs?
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Elcapinyoazz
Social climber
Redlands
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Nov 25, 2008 - 08:39pm PT
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Bump for the great storyteller Philo with tales of Black Canyon sickness.
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Jack Burns
climber
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Nov 26, 2008 - 01:21pm PT
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bump
thanks for sharing, philo.
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ydpl8s
Trad climber
Santa Monica, California
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Nov 30, 2008 - 01:33pm PT
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Hey Philo,
Still trying to get settled in, but I've traded sand and palm trees for rock and snow, kind of seems like an appropriate trade in my sore old achey years!
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Dr. Rock
Ice climber
http://tinyurl.com/4oa5br
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Nov 30, 2008 - 03:11pm PT
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Cool.
I have a friend that took about 600 hits of acid as a kid.
Results were that he has this incredible idio-savvant memory.
If you are driving to Oregon and you ask him what kind of blue car that was that passed us an hour ago,
"Oh that was a 95 Nissan, the one with the water skis stickin out of the trunk you mean?"
I mean, the guy would have made a great cop.
So he memorized this animal book, knows every animal in the world, and the stories of those animals interacting with humans in weird ways, so the dudue starts rappin zoololgy, and we are dinkin Jack at midnight, then the sun comes up, 6 hours of total enrapture, what a lecture, he covered every story known to man, this is the stuff you didn't get on Marlon Perkins wild kingdom.
The best was probably the Cape Buffalo who circled it's hunter and then treed him.
The Cape could not reach the guy, so he chewed the heels off the guys feet and waited for him to bleed to death.
On and on, good guy to have on a "seconds seem like years" early morning nausea freeze out.
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dee ee
Mountain climber
citizen of planet Earth
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Nov 30, 2008 - 07:55pm PT
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Great raisin story.
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Tahoe climber
Trad climber
a dark-green forester out west
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Nov 30, 2008 - 10:14pm PT
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I've always thought that grapes are the best fruit -
eat them as is
ferment them to make GOD'S BEVERAGE
dry them for raisins
freeze them for a hot day's refreshing snack
....
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Peter Haan
Trad climber
San Francisco, CA
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Nov 30, 2008 - 10:30pm PT
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Gee. This was real writing. First thing that I have read on ST tonight after getting back home. No blow by blow account--- tedious engineering style---of what they did, but rather their much more interesting human issues: their fear and concern detailed and how they related to each other and to their own particular live and what might happen tomorrow. The peculiar mantra of the raisins, a idee fixe that we all understand, those of us that have been through stuff like this. And the general stunning willingness to keep going, to finish in face of all of that.
Just a great tale. You can expand this too quite a bit if you want, Philo. you might be surprised how five or ten pages could come out of your efforts, going back into it. Thanks tons for your gift.
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philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
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Topic Author's Reply - Dec 4, 2008 - 11:54pm PT
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Wow Mr. Hahn thank you so much for your kind words. That was one of the finest compliments My writting has ever recieved. A lot of that fine-ness is due to who the praise came from.
I really do enjoy writting up these little recolections but my usual concern is keeping them short and to the point. It is easier for me to wax onward for pages and pages. It is refreshing to know that some folks would actually appreciate reading a bit more. Thank you again.
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neebee
Social climber
calif/texas
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hey there philo, say... thanks for the great raisin share (and of course, the WHOLE stories)... i may not be stranded on the rocks, etc... but, after not having much food around, when i get to buy rainsins, it is like a "bit of heaven" ....
they are special to savor, sure enough...three cheers for the joy little rainins can bring... and for the survival that they helped those folks with...
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eeyonkee
Trad climber
Golden, CO
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And he draws too! A true renaissance man (of the Black Canyon persuasion). And please tell us some more stories.
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Tarbuster
climber
right here, right now
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Philo!
Yup, following that glowing accolade and cheerful vote of confidence from Peter, it looks like you will have to continue to toe the line buddy.
Wind up your pen...
More stories if you please!!!
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scuffy b
climber
On the dock in the dark
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Very cool story and tribute.
Feel free to give us more.
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philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
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Topic Author's Reply - Dec 9, 2008 - 11:50am PT
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Hankster said; "That place freaks me out. You just walk to the edge and need to take a dump".
Hahahahahahahahahahahahahah..oops. Damn now I need a handi-wipe.
Yeah Hank if anyone can teach the subtleties of a Black Canyon rim dump it would be me 'cause you know I'm full of it. I have a fitting cartoon on the subject. I'll see if I can dredge it up.
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philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
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Topic Author's Reply - Dec 10, 2008 - 02:04am PT
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In those days we adhered to the adage that the best solution for pollution is dilution. So figuring that it would be at least another decade before anyone else would follow these adventures we simply used S.A.P airlines. "Sh#t and Pitch" as it was taught to me was the manner of disposal choice in those early years. In theory the "package" would explode on eventual impact and shower the largest area possible. Diffusing it's noxious cargo to the emptiness below. I realize that this was in the days before hoards of like minded adventurers made fecal trundling impractical. But before everyone "GOT P.C." (poop container) a well lobbed sh#t sandwich or a far flung fecal frisbee was a thangabeooty. So after all of these years if any of you ever happened to run across a package remnant addressed from me I would like to formally apologize for any unexploded ordinance there may have been. But as my kid's book say "everyone poops". You should have seen the look of curious horror on their little faces when I answered the inevitable question. "how do Black Canyon climbers poop Daddy"?
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Steve Grossman
Trad climber
Seattle, WA
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Dec 10, 2008 - 11:31am PT
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Nice toons, Philo!
Have you posted your first climbing cartoon???
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philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
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Topic Author's Reply - Dec 10, 2008 - 07:19pm PT
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Back in those days, owing to a diet consisting mostly of beans and expired food stuffs, we could easily tell how well each other was feeling.
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Steve Grossman
Trad climber
Seattle, WA
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Dec 11, 2008 - 12:37am PT
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Was '87 a Blue Plate kind of year for you?
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philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
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Topic Author's Reply - Dec 11, 2008 - 01:49am PT
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Many Black Canyon adventures and even more mis-adventures happened well before or well after ventures below the rim. Years ago the North Rim campground was the site of more than a few odd experiences and chance encounters for me. Back then I had a red hot but oh so high maintenance girl friend who didn't much care for climbing or, other than me, climbers. Did I mention she had a real nice car? I used to, on occasion, borrow her car. Sometimes with her even knowing about it. Well this was one of those occasions she didn't know about. Jim and I borrowed her car as neither of our klunkers would have survived the rigors of our intended mad dash there and back. Living in Gunnison meant it wasn't too big of a deal to just drive there before dawn and head down early. Not wanting to disturb the slumbering campers we parked in the outer loop turn around and went directly down under. Returning triumphantly topside with just enough time to have the car back before my lady's flight landed I was instantly hurled back into the abyss when I realized I had locked the keys to my sugar bear's car inside. Oh crap, oh crap! Can you say OH CRAP! Pacing frantically around the she wolf's inert Honda burbling about blue balls and black lists I was of no use in this dire circumstance. Jim was his characteristically stoic self quietly surveying the situation, analyzing, planning. As the sun sped towards setting my heart raced towards regretting the rest of my days. It was only when my rising anxiety had me looking for suitable glass smashing rocks that Jim could no longer tolerate the distraction. He was in the process of sending me away when seemingly out of no where up walked two young climbers likely drawn by the animated sounds of a love lorn man acting out the scene of being eaten alive by the dragon lady. Into this amusing scene came these young bucks who asked if either of us knew anything about the Diagonal Will route. Well the route had only been done a small handful of times and as I was the only person ever dumb enough to do it twice it fell to me to give the lads the beta. Good thing too as I had just found a rock with the correct heft. In the time it took me to describe in detail the intricacies of the route, raisins and all, Jim had enacted his plan and solved the problem. He oh so deftly removed the seals of the back passenger seat rear quarter panel window and popped it out. By the time I came scurrying back prepared to be berserk he calmly handed me the keys having already perfectly replaced the window. We got back in the nick of time and my sweet honey bunny was none the wiser.
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philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
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Topic Author's Reply - Dec 11, 2008 - 01:55am PT
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Steve Grossman asked if 87 was a blue plate year for me. Actually Steve 1987 was the...
Which gave me ample time to doodle.
That year several of us had squirreled away enough coin and free time to partake of an extended North Rim bivy. The plan was to be there for over a month straight (or I should say continuously) and climb everyday. Well the storm king was in a foul mood that Spring and he apparently didn't care much for us either. We did get up a route or two between storms but most of the time we were worried that we would need swim fins and snorkels for the approaches. I had never before seen the Gunnison River so violent and unrelenting. Swollen to beyond mere measure you could on occasion here the crashing of mini van sized boulders being forcibly evicted. It was all overwhelming and extra extra spooky!
While there all manner of interesting folk came by. Hanging out at our Black Canyon advanced base camp helping add to the burgeoning heap of recyclable containers. We had the ranger on the pay roll so there was no grief from the local heat about our squatters camp in a National Monument. I say advanced base camp as everyone knows that the real Black Canyon base camp is Newberry's Store in Cimarron Colorado. And Uncle Jimmy was one of the more regular guests. Eventually the frustration of sodden dissatisfaction led all but five of us to abandon ship so to speak. Besides my self our clan included Dave Henritze, Jim Nigro, Chris Beque and Rich Perch. We were the 'High & Wet".
In the cartoon above you can see Chris in the sleeping bag. He was having a lot of back problems. His car is the Honda something or other. He had his bike with him as he was usually the healthy one. Nigro, who's square back VeeWee is the closest drawn car, was off in the loo as he was having um back problems. I am pretty sure I mentioned somewhere that we ate a lot of beans. Dave, who's remarkable dog Sneffles (rip) can be seen chewing a tree, has the Chevy Luv Slug next to the Nigromobile. I don't remember where Rich parked his vehicle. My rig is the old Toyota wagon in the back. I had done a Polish conversion to it in which I removed all but the driver's seat so I could sleep in it with all my gear. Which came in mighty handy in the Spring of 87. In that ransacked ride I carried a small TV that plugged into the cigarette lighter. There we were in camp lounge chairs, from left to right, me, Rich with the umbrella and Davy all watching cartoons in the light drizzle. Perch had this rainbow paneled umbrella that during the commercials he lazily twirled while whistling mindless jingles. I was regrettably down wind when the burrito blues reared their ugly retro-musicality. This was not an incognito SBD to be passed then passed off. Oh no this was an LAL. Loud and lethal. This prideful effart was likely heard over the roar of the river by tourists on the other rim. Rich, with out missing a beat or twirl quickly lowers his spinning shield of protection between us and keeps whistling Dixie. Look away, look away.
OK, OK so I know what your probably thinking about now. Five vehicles! What couldn't we have car pooled?
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Tez
Mountain climber
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Dec 11, 2008 - 10:08am PT
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Philo - thanks for posting these. They are great and it really made my day.
-Todd
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philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
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Topic Author's Reply - Dec 14, 2008 - 01:03am PT
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When Jim Nigro and I topped out on our one day free ascent of the Diagonal Will route we were haggard and stretched paper thin. As usual the dehydration felt like breathing sand. Skin having been exposed to the blaring sun that day was now pink and somewhat crispy. Having done the approach in the rock shoes that were still on our feet we were well past feeling them. Situation normal all systems go.
Even though I had topped out here once before I quickly became disoriented. We stumbled haphazardly midst the pinon and juniper for what seemed like hours. Finally well past dark with many a false start behind us and on the verge of utter exhaustion we tripped upon the trail. AAAHH the trail. Soon the road. That sweet rutted two track with the wonderful dips where cool air pools up like oasis. I always slowed and lingered in those pockets of refreshingly chilled O2. Now we know we can hobble down this stretch with closed eyes. We are home free. We'll be back in the camp we left this very morning in no time. We know exactly what to expect at every turn. Everything.
Everything that is except a table cloth. "What the Phuck is that a table cloth?" That was Jim yelling. We finally found our way back to camp sometime after midnight and now Jim was beginning to wake sleepers up with his verbalized consternation. There it was, a table cloth. A table cloth in our campsite on our camp site table. A red and white checked italian restaurant style table cloth on our table! With neatly arrayed condiments. ???? Jim and I never used a table cloth. We were content to eat tuna with pitons. We were content in the dirt. By now both Jim and I were apoplectic that some touron-osaur had copped our site in our absence. We proclaimed our displeasure loudly. "Don't they know we are heros?" "We just went down and climbed one of the all time nasties (and though we are spent beyond reserves and a stiff breeze may knock us over) will take on any of you slackers!" By now little lights start popping up all around as we throw our hissy fit. We hear laughing from several directions and rustling from our absconded camp site. Thats when I notice It. If you thought Jim seeing the table cloth was bad you should have seen me when I laid eyes on the freaking canvas circus tent some @#%*%@ erected all over my site! What was the world coming to! I was ready to chew the head off the first jerk wad I saw. Oh pity them! When to my fatigue baffled surprise out of the tent pops none other than my sister, bathrobe slippers and all. She had planned to and succeeded at surprising me. I mean really a Coleman circus tent and a checked table cloth were nearly more than we could handle. If not for the left overs, beer and homemade apple pie she served us things might have gone badly.
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ydpl8s
Trad climber
Santa Monica, California
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Dec 15, 2008 - 12:09pm PT
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Philo,
I was just going through some old slides and found a couple of great shots of Mr. Nigro from 1980, looking his debonaire self, with a female college chum that I tried to set him up with. Jim always said to me that "girls are too much trouble, they take too much time away from your climbing"
I'll post them up when I find time to get the slides scanned (after Xmas). Last I heard of him he was an Exum Guide up in the Grand Mammaries of Wyoming. Have you kept in touch or heard anything of him?
Moss
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philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
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Topic Author's Reply - Dec 15, 2008 - 12:50pm PT
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Daily Moss, daily. He is here in The People's Republic of Boulder. I have had him on the payroll of my company several times. Though why I question as he still isn't worth a Kopek. I look forward to the pics. Have a fantastic Holidaze. philo
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Tarbuster
climber
right here, right now
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Dec 15, 2008 - 02:57pm PT
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"That sweet rutted two track with the wonderful dips where cool air pools up like oasis."
I was just merrily reading along & SNAP!
... that sentence pulled me out of my head, lit up my senses and transported me straight into the outdoors, right to the rim of the canyon.
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eeyonkee
Trad climber
Golden, CO
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Dec 16, 2008 - 09:40am PT
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I continue to do between one and three Black Canyon climbs a year. It's what I revolve my climbing season around (one or two in the Spring season and one in the Fall is about right). Seems like every one of them would classify as an adventure. Sheesh, just hanging out with my French climbing partner Laurent all day is an "adventure". Too bad for you, I don't have the writing skills of Philo.
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ydpl8s
Trad climber
Santa Monica, California
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Dec 16, 2008 - 10:42am PT
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Philo,
"isn't worth a Kopek" haha...great. Yeah, if it isn't about climbing, his head isn't into it. Please say hi to him for me next time you talk to him, even now I can see that big sh*& eatin grin that might rival Gilbey's.
Moss
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philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
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Topic Author's Reply - Dec 16, 2008 - 09:39pm PT
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Tarbuster, that is fantastic particularly since you didn't have to pay extra for luggage.
Eeyonkee, come on post something more up. Give it a shot man what have you got to lose?
These stories have been fun for me to share.
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eeyonkee
Trad climber
Golden, CO
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Dec 17, 2008 - 09:00am PT
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Ok Philo, here it goes.
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times ...er, how about
Call me Ishmael.
No, that doesn't work either. Let's go with
It was a dark and stormy night.
Hmmm, if I could just come up with that killer opening line, the rest would practically write itself, I'm thinkin.
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philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
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Topic Author's Reply - Dec 17, 2008 - 09:34am PT
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Thanx MisterE
Eeyonkee how about "We were all sitting around the group W bench..."
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SteveW
Trad climber
The state of confusion
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Dec 17, 2008 - 09:53am PT
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Hey Philo--I didn't know you were a Pollock too!
(my mother's maiden name was Gruhowski). . .
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eeyonkee
Trad climber
Golden, CO
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Dec 17, 2008 - 10:02am PT
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See, Philo. That's what I'm talking about. The Group W bench line...brilliant! You probably came up with that in a few seconds, while I struggled for an hour just to come up with the lame Call me Ishmael, only to abandon it.
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philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
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Topic Author's Reply - Dec 17, 2008 - 11:41am PT
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There we were the usual gang of dirtbaggers sitting around a picknick table in the North Rim campground. It was a rainy rest day so the usual thrumming sense of doom that the Gunnison river elicits wasn't even vaguely apparent. We had no place to go and no better place to be. In our altered states fueled by lazy overindulgence we were passing the rim time by discussing and debating our preferred methods of dispatching ticks. Of course all methods had to be tested with that days crop. The methods employed were many and all were diabolical. We decided to subcatogorize above rim, below rim and wall time methods of execution. My personal rim time favorite was a hot cast iron skillet. Like popcorn but too small to eat. As a huge Tolkien fan I always muse about poor ol Bilbo having to listen to the trolls debate the best way to eat dwarves and burrahobbit whenever I reminisce about the great tick debate and decimation of 87.
We were huge, grim and malicious creatures lording over a make shift torture chamber for ticks. Fortunately Gandalf and the Sun never arrived and we gleefully carried on with our tick-lish experimentation till all the fodder was gone. Ah ah ah! Don't ask about my wall time favorite.
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wayne w
Trad climber
the nw
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Dec 28, 2008 - 04:29pm PT
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Philo, thanks for your Black stories, and cartoons. I have wanted to climb there since the 70's, but when you are disabled like myself you have to rely on partners to drag you up stuff. The excuse I have for still not having made it there. Hopefully this will change in 09. If so I will post up my own Black story, but until then would love to hear more of yours!
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Captain...or Skully
Trad climber
North of the Owyhees
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Dec 28, 2008 - 11:42pm PT
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Bump for The Black....& Philo's way with the word.
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Steve Grossman
Trad climber
Seattle, WA
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Dec 29, 2008 - 11:47am PT
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Poitics is water.....climbing is stout!
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eeyonkee
Trad climber
Golden, CO
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Dec 29, 2008 - 02:25pm PT
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I'd love to hear some accounts of either Atlantis or Crystal Vision. Both are high on my list for this coming Spring.
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Roman
Trad climber
Boston
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Dec 30, 2008 - 08:19pm PT
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Fantastic stories philo. If you have more please post them. They have moved me so much that I just called an old partner to plan a climb up Seneca Rocks. Thank you so much. It was what I needed.
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philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
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Topic Author's Reply - Dec 30, 2008 - 08:35pm PT
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Thank you Roman glad you enjoyed my words. It really means a lot to me.
Please go check out the Red Rocks Stories thread.
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J. Werlin
climber
Cedaredge
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North Rim recon, New Years Day:
Checkerboard catching the sun:
Narrows are looking icy:
Blackjack:
Downstream:
Happy New year
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philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
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Topic Author's Reply - Jan 5, 2009 - 10:47am PT
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Thanx! Now I feel home sick.
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philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
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Topic Author's Reply - Jan 5, 2009 - 04:11pm PT
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Inspired by J Werlin's fine photos and wishing to avoid the barbarism of some political threads I just penned this one up while en"throne"d in the "little library". I hope it's not a shitty story.
To clean up the thread I dropped all the other posts and reposted the final draft of the story with the toon in place.
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goatboy smellz
climber
dirty south
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Excellent story Phil!
Thanks for sharing that slice of life.
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eeyonkee
Trad climber
Golden, CO
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My palms are wet after reading that last one.
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philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
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Topic Author's Reply - Jan 6, 2009 - 11:22am PT
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Thanx Eric. I noticed some goofy errors when I read it over. It still needs something. hm mmmmm maybe cardamom or nutmeg.
It was a "one off". Written start to finish with no editing while performing my morning constitutional. I call it multi-tasking. Anyway it's just a shitty rough draft but I am glad you like. I swear I have been trying to focus on climbing threads.
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piquaclimber
Trad climber
Durango
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Wonderful writing Phil!
Thanks for posting up all of these wonderful stories.
Brad
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ydpl8s
Trad climber
Santa Monica, California
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Thanks for the story Phil!
I remember when the Newbs and MadMan rapped to get that haul sack, visions of booty plums dancing in their heads....didn't quite turn out that way. At the time I remember Jimmy saying something like "my biggest problem is that people can talk me into anything!"
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philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
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Topic Author's Reply - Jan 6, 2009 - 12:51pm PT
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And no one was and is better than the MadMan at talking Newbs into anything. Like the world's most dangerous garbage pick up. HA HA HA.
Hope your new year is stellar!
And by the way the Chargers suk!
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ydpl8s
Trad climber
Santa Monica, California
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Phil, I totally agree about the Chargers!
Closest thing I've been to climbing is that I went to a convention in Vegas about a month ago. Took a morning and went out to the circle, pulled off at the first turnoff and bouldered some 50 ft 5.5 thing in my Kronhofer's. Then drove around and took a good hard look through the binoculars at your route up the big sandstone castle...impressive.
Hope all is well with you and your wife's relatives.
Moss
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philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
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Topic Author's Reply - Jan 6, 2009 - 03:40pm PT
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Thanks Moss. Best wishes! Phil
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eeyonkee
Trad climber
Golden, CO
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Nice writing and all Philo, but say WTF about the Chargers?
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philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
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Topic Author's Reply - Jan 6, 2009 - 03:56pm PT
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OOOps what if I say Pat Bowlen sux?
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philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
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Topic Author's Reply - Jan 9, 2009 - 11:16am PT
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17; LOST IN SPACE.
When Jim and I returned from our storm cancelled first attempt to finally complete our early repeat of the Forrest/Walker route on the Painted Wall so few hands had pawed over that rock that it still acted like a virgin on prom night eve. We travelled perilously light. One small pack with just enough stuff to survive if all went well. If it didn't, well then...??? We travelled so Spartanly because our aim was to free everything we could and only aid when no other free climbing alternative was possible. To that end we managed to whittle the aid moves of this major wall down to well less than fifty. Free climbing moves up to 10+ & 11- and pulling aid moves, impossible given the nature of the rock to rate the difficulty of.
Two thirds of the way up the wall in the relentless and debilitating blaze of the noon day sun we pulled out our secret weapons. Two cotton shirts soaked in the frigid Gunnison River earlier were pulled out of their stashed stuff sack. I remember they were still dripping wet so we wrung them out. The greedy stone accepted our gift one rapidly evaporating drip after another. We pulled them on, flinching and chirping with every new square inch of hot skin touched by cold cloth. Once the shock of transition had passed it was tremendously luxurious. Like a portable air conditioner. Life returned we continued on.
It fell to me to lead the terrifying pitch through the Dragons jaws. Standing atop successive fins of pegmatite like wobbly boogie boards on end. Wishing with all my might that there would be some real pro before reaching the good rock in the roof still forty feet above. Finding nothing but the strong urge to survive. Actually hearing friends, observing with spotting scopes on the Southern Rim, hoot and holler up a storm when I stretched one of my monster splits stemming to the good rock of the roof over my shoulder and placed pro. I was a dancer in those days and had tremendous flexibility so I guess from afar it looked cool. But up close I was sweating urea and just relieved to step on anything that didn't move.
We continued to progress apprehensively further up through Death Valley which was rapidly becoming a one way avenue.
The 21st pitch of the route, where Stratosfear escapes stage right, was my onus as well. While not hard at all by todays technical standards this second to last pitch took all I could muster and everything I knew. Stratosfear came into being because this pitch was not free-able. It is also not entirely aid-able either. It is a devious and dangerous mixed experience that menaces you at every opportunity particularly when in transition between free and aid moves. As everything up to bus sized bits moved when touched no gear evoked confidence, no hold provided assurance. Security was a fallacy of the mind created to engender a momentary sense of calm and normalcy to an otherwise lunatic endeavor. Sure that piece is good. Yeah I can high step up on it. What ever it takes, right!
I was destined to lead this nightmare. It had been graphically described to me repeatedly by Tom and John who had done the coveted second ascent. I was supposed to do the 3rd ascent of this test piece route with my regular partner Scotty. And this was always to be my pitch. But Scotty perished tragically in a Canadian avalanche before we could rope up. Now here with Jim, the strongest most compatible partner I have had, I prayed to Scotty's spirit that I had what it would take. One of the chilling delights I was told to expect in the midst of those enormous roofs was a block of particular kinetic potential. The consequences of which were so "grave" that I was implored with the mantra of, what ever you do "DON'T TOUCH IT"!
There I was mixing it up. Sparing with the choss of entropy. Peering into the seemingly endless black maw of the crack in the back of the roof, I suddenly became small and insignificant and felt thoroughly vulnerable. I looked and looked searching for the "death block". I was too timid and fearful to look too deep into that overhanging abyss for fear I would have to travel that way. I didn't see the warned of and dreaded "death block" boulder any where. I led myself to believe, as would be reasonable to assume, that it had just fallen off, like so much other mass now scattered about the base of this steep and imposing fortress of a wall. I didn't recognize the warned of and dreaded"death block" boulder...till it was almost too late. I thought the big bad boulder was supposed to be "in" the roof not on the face beneath it. I led myself tenuously across the edge of infinite gravitational force towards an inviting looking piece of bright white webbing fixed around a monster flake.
Three things happened, almost simultaneously, as I reached the sling and started to use it to balance up on. The first was Jim yelling "TEN FEET" from out of sight below. Hmmm, looks like I still need twenty. The second was the sling disintegrated in my hand teetering me backwards. I saw bits of my life flitter away chasing after the liberated tatters of someone else's security. Portions of the terminally distressed sling from behind the behemoth flake were still bright red. The rest nothing more than a crunchy grey powder. Thirdly, my sphincter cinched up, as Jim was fond of saying, tight enough to cut washers off of. From the time I instinctively lunged for the corners at the base of the flake to steady myself I remember the disconcerting sound of rock grinding and not much else. At least until saying "OFF belay" at the anchor. I honestly cannot clearly recall that last stretch of deviously blank stone perched so high above the roaring Gunnison river. I was spent, wasted and out of it! The delirium of survival, no matter how fleeting and temporary, allows you to cool the mind enough to carry on. I must have made it as I doubt I am simply imagining myself now writing this on this mortal plane. I just don't know exactly how I made it. Neither did Jim. When he arrived at our anchor perch he looked dazed and baffled.
Lauhingly called a "semi-hanging" belay because there are some 5.9 footholds there somewhere. Most of the belayer's time was spent in a futile attempt to increase adhesion by uncomfortably crushing one hip or the other into the smooth slab. A smoothness in space that seemed more akin to a slide towards oblivion over more than 2000 feet of atmosphere than a secure stance. The belay was an odd assortment of somewhat questionable gear comprising a shallow knife blade, a grumbly bugaboo, a buried rurp and a bashie or two. All cobbled and spider webbed together to give a passable sense of "yeah that'll work".
Jim got the next and final pitch. While technically harder it at least had substantially better rock and occasionally real pro. In fact this final challenge sprouts the routes only bolt. A peculiarly placed beefer complete with date stamped washer from when the MadMan convinced Newberry to descend and retrieve Forrest's abandoned haul sac. A story to it's self, it left behind an incongruous but gladly, if not awkwardly, clipped memento. Where as before I had been seemingly entombed in the cool shadows of enormous corners and horrendous roofs. Now I was splayed in the full swelter of the arcing Sun's last efforts at desiccating my very soul. Jim was somewhere above methodically facing the unknowns of the future. I was belaying robotic-ally. Dying by the sweat drop.
I couldn't remember how long ago we had run out of water. Judging from the thickly swollen nature of my tongue, that I tried so hard to not notice, it had been a very long time. From the edge of the universe came the long anticipated call of "OFF belay". Now the Jumars that I had so vehemently cursed earlier for being sticky and annoying, owing to the layers of hastily applied duct tape I had foolishly wrapped on the grips, became my best and only friends. Melted by the scorching Sun and reflected heat the tape had become a nearly inescapable goo without which I seriously doubt I would have had the guns to hold on. Spinning helplessly in the relentless blistering heat above the angry froth of erosion occurring a world away and a life time ago I heard disembodied words drift to me from above and behind. It was surreal and other worldly. I was sure I was hallucinating. Either that or I didn't really make it to the previous belay station and this was my own personal Purgatory.
As the unwinding of the rope brought me around to gaze languidly and unfocused outward across to the canyon's other rim I heard the ghosts of my simple naked humanity call to me once again. Expecting angel wings and the divine, the sounds eventually directed me to the incongruous sight of grime and exhaustion. Jim was calling to me from eighty feet behind and a hundred feet above. There he was standing on the lip of the giant prow that juts out over the empty space below. Greedily slurping down the last sniff of one of the gallons of water we had earlier stashed. I am not sure but I think he downed it in one desperate draw. What I do know for sure, because my visual acuity had snapped back to focus at the first sight of water, is that he didn't spill a drop.
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philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
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Topic Author's Reply - Jan 9, 2009 - 01:46pm PT
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Eeyonkee I went all the way back through this thread from from the original Tarbuster thread. I really loved the "Fly in" Flakes story, what a way to travel. The multiple head first falls story gave me the wiggly willies. I don't think I ever had the Casabas to take more than one head dive at a time. Sheesh of all the nerve.
Cheers man and Happy New Year to you all.
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eeyonkee
Trad climber
Golden, CO
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Well, Leonard pointed out the obvious. It was that friggin' descent smear that lead me astray on Sistine Reality. I've learned my lesson.
Philo, maybe you didn't go back to the first thread, which I started, called Black Canyon Stories. It's got some good ones. Happy New Year yourself. Love reading your stories.
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philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
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Topic Author's Reply - Jan 12, 2009 - 09:40pm PT
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Well I certainly need to. Maybe you could re-post a few.
At least give me a good reason to shy away from the political threads.
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BrassNuts
Trad climber
Boulder Colorado
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Jan 16, 2009 - 10:56am PT
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The old pics in "Climb" of Air Voyage and 8th Voyage always piqued my interest, but it was easy to dismiss the routes due to a lack of wide gear on my rack and a lack of the required cajones... But, in May of 1994 I was able to scrounge up a #7 Big Dude and a partner, so there were really no more excuses - it was time for some Black Canyon adventure! Dave and I decided to do Air Voyage up through the crux OW and then continue on the wide cracks and corners of 8th Voyage to the top.
I can't remember for sure, but I think this was Dave's first trip to the Black, so it was pretty ballsy of him to sign up for such an adventure, but I did say I would lead the two crux pitches... what was I thinking?? A few years earlier I had come down to do Air Voyage with another friend, armed only with 1 #6 Big Dude (having heard there were fixed tube chocks in the OW pitch), but we were weathered out that trip, which turned out to be a blessing as I found out on our '94 ascent that there were NO fixed tube chocks on the OW pitch and I would have been soiling my trousers had I only had one big cam on the crux!!
Awaking at about 4:30am on a crisp May morning, Dave and I headed down the Cruise Gully - like hiking, but different... Along with us, Cameron Tague (RIP sadly) and his partner were also on their way down to do Astro Dog, a route on the other side of the canyon. On the descent, we agreed to harass each other across the canyon walls when possible - hopefully we would top out first as I had some special harassment in mind...
The climb went quickly up to the first hard pitch, a combo of 5.11 fingers in a corner going to harder 5.11 overhanging fists - a fine way to prep for the crux OW. Dave led the traverse pitch over to the base of the OW:
Once I arrived at the ledge at the base of the OW, I tried to get psyched to struggle my way up the crux... I looked up, got that nasty Black Canyon nervous stomach thing, and took inventory of the large cams on the rack:
After nearly chucking on several occasions and having to aid maybe 15' of the OW due to less than stellar technique, I arrived at a stance under a roof, maybe 150' out from the belay. I was pretty wasted and was happy to turn over the lead to Dave for the final section to the top. Dave had a good time leading the "womb fight" as I could tell from the strange abrasive sounds wafting down from above... Meanwhile, Cameron and his partner were making good headway on Astro Dog.
Once we finished the final scrappy climbing to the rim, we did the Black Canyon dash to the campsite and the COOLER! There we grabbed a couple of cold Tooth Sheaf Stouts (in honor of Derek Hersey who sadly died the year before...), some munchies and my prized 5' long POTATO CANNON. Now, for those of you males who enjoyed a prolific pyrotechnic phase, a potato cannon is nothing new. To you tater cannon noobs out there, these things are the ticket and you can have tons O fun shooting your favorite spud up to 1000' thanks to PVC pipe, hairspray and a piezo igniter... So, we gathered our swill and vegetable ammo and headed out to a quiet point on the rim. Here we enjoyed our libations and primed the tater shooter:
Across the canyon, Cameron and partner had just topped out and were sitting on the rim, waiting for their shuttle ride to show up. We exchanged visual greetings as I prepared the first potato salvo salute... With a muffled "booooofff", the first flying tater makes it's way maybe halfway across the chasm - Cameron and partner are wondering what the hell we're doing and heckle us appropriately. After adjusting the launch angle and the air/hairspray mixture, we are able to launch a few taters quite far, with the response from the other side being "aaalllmmoooosstt..." After a few more tries and some more Sheaf Stout, we painfully recognized failure in our attempt to reach our friends on the other rim with a flying vegetable :-)... We watch the sunset over the magnificent canyon and toast a fantastic day. There is no place like "The Black"...
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philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
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Topic Author's Reply - Jan 16, 2009 - 11:05am PT
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Woohoo that was a hoot o fun! Thanks Dave for that hilarious story.
I can picture the two boulder bivy fouled with mashed potatoes.
Het at least it would be free bivy food. HAhahahahahahhhhh!
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BrassNuts
Trad climber
Boulder Colorado
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Jan 16, 2009 - 11:17am PT
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We even used "Cannon" brand potatoes! They fly better ;-) Sadly, I disposed of my last tater cannon years ago after hearing about a Boulder SWAT team response to someone shooting spuds in their back yard...
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philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
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Topic Author's Reply - Jan 16, 2009 - 11:20am PT
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You could always build a mini canon and fire tater tots.
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J. Werlin
climber
Cedaredge
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Jan 16, 2009 - 11:29am PT
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Great post Brass. I can see the SAR potential of that cannon as a rope delivery system.
Cheers, JW
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BrassNuts
Trad climber
Boulder Colorado
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Jan 16, 2009 - 11:46am PT
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Actually, I think the "Carrot Rifle" would be a fine addition to any big wall adventure... those little peeled baby carrots are aerodynamic, lightweight and slippery! You could downscale the potato cannon to about 2' long x 2" diameter.... hmmm, maybe a trip to the hardware store today!
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Rhodo-Router
Gym climber
Otto, NC
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Jan 16, 2009 - 11:48am PT
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Sadly, this sort of horseplay would only get you cited for 'illegal air delivery' or some such nonsense around here.
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Crimpergirl
Social climber
Boulder, Colorado!
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Jan 16, 2009 - 11:56am PT
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Oh man. Carrots? I was wondering why BrassNuts headed to the hardware store so early this morning.
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philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
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Topic Author's Reply - Jan 16, 2009 - 11:56am PT
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Newberry is a trifle miffed at me for spilling the beans about the bolt on the FW. Up until my essay only about 8 people knew. Now he is afraid the whole world will know. So SHHHH don't tell anybody OK.
To clarify Jimmy was opposed to the bolt as Forrest didn't place any bolts on the route.
But MadMan is not easy to say no to.
A carrot cannon LOL I like it!
Do you remember the Popiel Salad Shooter?
Could it be modified for carpet bombing?
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scuffy b
climber
On the dock in the dark
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Jan 19, 2009 - 01:54pm PT
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Dave, I read a potato gun story in a trade magazine about 10
years ago (Plumbing and Mechanical, the emphasis if not the
actual title).
The magazine's columnist was visiting some contractor, I'm
pretty sure in Boulder, who was way into potato guns.
This guy seemed to think lighter fluid and hairspray were a
waste of time. He liked a nice oxy/acetylene mix.
So one night they go out to launch some spuds, where the
legalities had been worked out, and have a great time.
Until the police arrive.
Apparently the scenario had played out on various previos
occasions.
Ultimately, the police couldn't figure out a way to get the
contractor into any trouble, but they felt obliged to confis-
cate the cannon for "evidence" and left with it.
The contractor says to the columnist, "Another cop's kid is
going to be very happy."
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BrassNuts
Trad climber
Boulder Colorado
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Jan 19, 2009 - 08:28pm PT
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I didn't quite get to the oxy-acetylene mix for the P-cannon. But I did find 3M Spray Adhesive provided excellent horsepower, far better than hair spray... :-) However, in younger years we found that acetylene balloons provide quite an explosive punch!!
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philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
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Topic Author's Reply - Jan 28, 2009 - 02:24pm PT
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And here is a parting shot. Me looking back in after retiring from climbing (I thought for good). Gingus and I had just done the Hallucinogen (Route) and survived the mother of all electric blizzards on day six. In less than two months I was in the hospital having my twelfth knee surgery in ten years. Fortunately that time they gave me a shiny new one to play with.
I call it
Looking Black In
or
Lycra Lad in LaLa Land
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Steve Grossman
Trad climber
Seattle, WA
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Mar 15, 2009 - 01:44pm PT
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While you're hallucinating...
FA of the Hallucinogen Wall. Les Choy photo.
Two from Vertigo Games.
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philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
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Topic Author's Reply - Mar 15, 2009 - 01:56pm PT
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Nice Steve G. I love the rack of old school gear behind the Newberry's Store hat wearing Hobbit. Old grey jumars, slung hexes, tubes and a lone cam. A bit of a rarity in that they were not widely available yet and were considered a bit of a cheat.
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Olihphant
climber
Somewhere over the rainbow
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Apr 27, 2009 - 10:53am PT
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In 1976 when (Tom) Pulaski, (Jimmy) Newberry, (John) Rosholt and (John) Pearson set off for the First ascent of Journey through Mirkwood of the Painted Wall they were some of the first souls to ever set hand and foot on the big psychedelic stone. Day one had them do the early morning approach with full wall gear down the virtually untrod SOB gully. Then awkward climbing and brutal hauling of their otherworldly load up to the first scree field took the rest of the day. They decided to bivy there at the upper edge of the ledge system.
While re-racking and pulling out gear for the night a rogue gust of wind caught Tom's new ensolite pad and kited it all around the sloping field of chossness. Tom, having already lost a few other pads was apoplectic at the thought of losing another one at the start of a multiday adventure. Off he went running after it like a kid chasing a butterfly. It took the other three laughing ropemates a while before they realized that the mischievous pads current flight path was going to lead Pulaski right off the edge and into the Gunnison River far below. TOM, TOM, TOM! they screamed in panicked unison. Pulaski was, like a Lab retriever chasing after a tossed stick, totally focused. It was only at the last moment when Tom either finally realized his peril or finally heard the desperately barked commands to SIT, STAY! BAD DOG,NO FETCH! He skidded to a stop and watched his precious ensolite pad flutter down to the river and away. Glumly trudging back to their camp 1 he knew it was gonna be a butt cold night but at least he would be there to suffer through it in proud Polish style.
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eeyonkee
Trad climber
Golden, CO
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Apr 27, 2009 - 11:20am PT
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Funny sh#t, Olihphant.
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Olihphant
climber
Somewhere over the rainbow
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Apr 28, 2009 - 12:20pm PT
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Later and much higher on the route John (JP) Pearson was just minding his business belaying at a hanging station. It was a long mixed aid and free pitch and JP was getting bored. Suddenly he hears ROOOOOOCKK! Looking up he has just enough time to lean back and take the chunk in the face. Instead of a head shot the projectile nearly takes his nose off. His proboscis is broken and mashed flat to his face. He looks like warmed over death. Now the lads still have a day and a half to go to get off and no one wants to contemplate retreat from so high up on the wall. So up they continue. By the time they top out and get to a doctors office in town JP's nose has already set and scabbed over. He looked like a wild man of Borneo. After several days on the wall the other three didn't look or smell much better.To set it properly the doc has to not only re open all the lacerations but rebreak it as well. He either figured that if two days with a pancaked nose didn't kill the big bad wall climber then pain wouldn't be a problem or that they all looked like junkies. What ever the reason the doc gave JP nothing for pain. I don't know who was least prepared or more surprised. JP when the doc grabbed his schnoz with out warning and tweaked it hard, or the doc when JP reacted with a big swing that broke the doc's nose and medicine cabinet. A clear case of equal and opposite reaction.
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Rhodo-Router
Gym climber
above the play park
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Apr 28, 2009 - 12:28pm PT
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hee hee!
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eeyonkee
Trad climber
Golden, CO
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Apr 28, 2009 - 01:09pm PT
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Yikes!
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ydpl8s
Trad climber
Santa Monica, California
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Apr 28, 2009 - 01:45pm PT
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Oli,
I was across the canyon looking through my binoculars when Rosholt knocked off that rock. I heard him yell, that sucker was so big that you could easily see it from the other side of the canyon. It made a huge noise as it broke up below, I must admit that at first I thought that JP had bought it. I was really relieved when I saw him start to move around. Later, at Jennifer's house, hearing the story from the horses mouth made my stomach turn butterflies.
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ydpl8s
Trad climber
Santa Monica, California
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Apr 28, 2009 - 01:50pm PT
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Oh yeah,
I'm thinking it was Jimmy Newberry, not Scotty Gilbert with those guys on that climb.
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Olihphant
climber
Somewhere over the rainbow
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Apr 28, 2009 - 01:56pm PT
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YDPL8S You are correct it was Newberry. I corrected my earlier post. Thanks for the correction.
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SteveW
Trad climber
The state of confusion
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Bump for our friend Philo. More, the crowd shouted, more!!!!
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philo
Trad climber
Somewhere halfway over the rainbow
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Topic Author's Reply - Mar 8, 2010 - 03:13pm PT
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Hey SteveDub, how ya hangin' with that edjumactin'?
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donini
Trad climber
Ouray, Colorado
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Ah the Black! Only days now.
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ydpl8s
Trad climber
Santa Monica, California
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Hey Stevew, I know this is off topic but I thought I saw you post something about our mutual friend Nigro doing Fitzroy on another thread. Any details?
Being as he's a Black Canyon hardman, sort of on topic.
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BrentA
Gym climber
Roca Rojo
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I am so thankful my life's journey lead me through the Black Canyon. The lessons of "giv'r" and "the only way out is up" have set me up well for later life.
Such a wonderful chapter in life.
Cheers y'all.
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philo
Trad climber
Somewhere halfway over the rainbow
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Topic Author's Reply - Sep 6, 2010 - 03:21pm PT
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Cheers to you as well sir. Job well done!
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philo
Trad climber
Somewhere halfway over the rainbow
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Topic Author's Reply - Sep 10, 2010 - 08:22am PT
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Some of you may know that I have a slew of ascents and related stories from my time in the Black during the 70s and 80s. Having just finished a story about the Nose in Winter for Alpinist 32 I have been feeling nostalgic.
It is hard for me to grasp that it has been nearly 21 years since my last climb there. Back then I was heading into knee replacement surgery and thought I had one more wall route in me. I retired after an electrifying time doing one of the earliest ascents of the Hallucinogen. In all those subsequent years I have been taunted and tempted to return by many friends. Several of them expressed the strong desire to do their first route there with me. My reply that I was "just a brokedown has been" fell on deaf ears. The cajoling continued unabated. Until now that is. My good friend Stephan "the Youth" has convinced my nostalgia addled mind to return for a redux. He was 5 years old when I retired which I find oddly humorous and a little bitter sweet.
So tonight, weather and wildfire permitting, we will head to the Black for a weekend of whatever happens. If my gamy leg cooperates we will go for a yet to be determined route. If, and I realize for me these days it is a big IF, we top out I will post a trip report for you all to laugh at.
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Captain...or Skully
Big Wall climber
Transporter Room 2
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Sep 10, 2010 - 08:26am PT
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And laugh WITH, Philo.
Cheers, man. Hope it's a BLAST!
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philo
Trad climber
Somewhere halfway over the rainbow
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Topic Author's Reply - Sep 10, 2010 - 11:13am PT
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Anyone know where I can get a travel pack of Depends?
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Reilly
Mountain climber
The Other Monrovia- CA
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Sep 10, 2010 - 11:28am PT
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I find one of these quite comfy and it has good capacity so you don't need
to stop so often to empty it...
Oh, yes, godspeed!
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ydpl8s
Trad climber
Santa Monica, California
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Sep 10, 2010 - 11:29am PT
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Probably too late but, Phil, you're my hero, go get one for the old gimps!
What'ya gonna do, Russian? You are the gamest old fart I know, not too long ago we were wondering if you'd ever be able to walk down the street again. Now, back into the bowels....say Hi! to Mr. Newberry - The Postmaster - for me, and remember "it's always desperate in the Black!" :-)
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philo
Trad climber
Somewhere halfway over the rainbow
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Topic Author's Reply - Sep 10, 2010 - 11:35am PT
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MossMan funny you should mention that. There is an emotional similarity to 21 years ago. Hoping to get one more in. Rackin and Packin right now. I will say hello to Mr. "It's always desperate in the Black" for you.
And don't you mean gamiest old fart?
Reilly where can I get one or two of those? he he.
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philo
Trad climber
Somewhere halfway over the rainbow
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Topic Author's Reply - Sep 13, 2010 - 06:49am PT
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TR has been moved to the Trip Report page.
http://www.supertopo.com/tripreport/tripreport.php?articleid=10759
Pulling back into the Boulder bubble we saw a huge billowing pillar of smoke. Crap I thought they were gaining containment. Turns out it was a second independent wild fire north of the Four Mile Canyon burn.
Out of the frying pan and back into the fire.
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eeyonkee
Trad climber
Golden, CO
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Sep 13, 2010 - 09:49am PT
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And the plot thickens...
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ydpl8s
Trad climber
Santa Monica, California
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Sep 13, 2010 - 11:08am PT
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Phil!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WTF????
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SteveW
Trad climber
The state of confusion
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Sep 13, 2010 - 11:17am PT
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Let's hope Philo wasn't tazed too!!!!
(I'll bet it's a posed picture, knowing Philo)!!!!
(I hope so, anyway)!
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Reilly
Mountain climber
The Other Monrovia- CA
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Sep 13, 2010 - 11:20am PT
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He musta really phukked up the paperwork!
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TwistedCrank
climber
Ideeho-dee-do-dah-day boom-chicka-boom-chicka-boom
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Sep 13, 2010 - 12:55pm PT
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Over the divide to get there? Does that make you a tourist? Did you keep your soap on its rope?
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philo
Trad climber
Somewhere halfway over the rainbow
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Topic Author's Reply - Sep 13, 2010 - 09:32pm PT
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Let's hope Philo wasn't tazed too!!!!
So I posted this up on the Trip Reports tab. I will pull it off of this thread if folks thing it is too long and cumbersome.
Don't taze me bro.
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| Messages 1 - 107 of total 107 in this topic |
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