Fritz Wiessner- A Man For All Mountains


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Alan Rubin

Mar 23, 2009 - 02:28pm PT
I believe that Fritz made the FA of the prominent crack on Elephant's Head in Smugglers---likely with a bit of aid. I'm not aware of any other routes he put up in the Green Mountain State, though I would be surprised if he hadn't done a route or 2 at Bolton. It is worth noting that by the time Fritz moved to Vt. he was in his 40s, there was a war going on during his early years in the state, he was under a "cloud' as a result of the K-2 disaster (for a long period of time he was literally "black-balled" by the AAC and other elements of the US climbing community as a result of this matter), he was running a business and raising a family, and overall his "new route heyday" was largely in the past. Even a man of his talents and energy had to slow down to some extent.
Brian Boyd

Trad climber
Scottsdale, AZ
Mar 23, 2009 - 04:42pm PT

Here's Fritz's grandson Angus. Some of you met him at the Cochise sushifest:

He's been climbing for a short while, but is both a great guy and an attentive belayer. He just moved back to Denver, and is looking for climbing partners. Until he moved, I've been taking him out once a week, and he has a great appetite for all sorts of stuff -- sport, trad, bouldering, and canyoneering as well. If anyone up there wants to adopt him, let me know.

Trad climber
Can't get here from there
Mar 23, 2009 - 06:43pm PT
From "The Adventure Climbs of Herb and Jan Conn"

Khayyam Spire route in Cathedral Spires:
"The Conns noted what looked like a large cairn on the summit of Khayyam. They wondered if this was one of the spires Fritz Wiessner had climbed in the 1930's. This idea was strengthened on the Conn's second trip up Khayyam, when Herb and Jan found something they had missed the first time. Under one of the large rocks at the base of the cairn was a much-weathered cardboard ticket to a parking facility in Connecticut. The Conns speculated that Wiessner and party searched their pockets for something to leave and that was all they could come up with."

Anyone around Sylvan Lake should give 'Wiessner Chimney' a grunt. Its a 5.6 route. Yeah, its says 5.6, OK.
Patrick Oliver

Boulder climber
Fruita, Colorado
Mar 23, 2009 - 07:54pm PT
I forgot to mention Dave Rearick was also
on that "mass" ascent with Fritz of Nutcracker.
We all had a great time with "the man," and
he clearly was enjoying himself.
Steve Grossman

Trad climber
Seattle, WA
Topic Author's Reply - Mar 23, 2009 - 10:09pm PT
Thanks for the story Al and by all means spin away!

So Hans got the glory pitch on High E. Ever hear Fritz grumble about the one that got away?

Which Gunks route do you think Fritz did the most times?

Pat- any photos from that outing. Somebody had to have a camera!
John Ely

Trad climber
Jun 3, 2009 - 09:25am PT
Hey guys, I was going to add some stuff to the Wikipedia article. I got to see Wiessner once, climbing frogs head in 1977 with Williams while me and a buddy were on Pas des Deux.

Does anyone know what Wiessner's business was in the US. Webster doesn't mention it? Neither do the Watermans.

best, John

Jun 3, 2009 - 09:58am PT
High Exposure*
by Hans Kraus

Many years ago, in 1941, Fritz Wiessner and I walked home from a day of climbing at Mohonk. In those days there were hardly more than a dozen people climbing in this area and very few routes had been put up in the Trapps. We did not have to look for a free space between two climbs to map a new line. We would look up at the cliff and if we found a corner, a ridge, or a face that appealed to us and made us curious how it would feel to be there, we climbed it. As Fritz and I walked home after a pleasant day, we passed Sleepy Hollow and as we looked up the cliff we saw this huge roof jutting out over a beautiful ridge that caught our eyes. I wondered if it could be climbed.

The next week Fritz and I tried. It was a beautiful day and as I climbed up the first rope length, the rock felt warm and pleasant. We had tied into double hemp ropes, for nylon was not known at that time. These ropes were rather heavy and they were not as reliable as nylon ropes, so a double rope was advisable for any new climb that might prove difficult. After reaching the end of the corner, I found a good stand and asked Fritz to follow. From here it was possible to get over to the ridge that looked steep and beautiful in the sun. A ledge led out from the corner and on to the next rope length. It was good clean rock leading out to the airy ledge and it was a real pleasure to climb up to the big terrace under the forbidding ceiling.

After Fritz had followed and tied himself to a rock, I started out after looking once more at the half-dozen pitons and ten carabiners hanging at my side. The pitons were of the vertical and transverse variety. There was only one ring angle, a new army piton that had been given to us for testing. It wasnít too difficult to get under the roof but there the world seemed to end. A little ledge would serve as a foothold beyond the roof, but it would mean I was committed to the climb, and I didnít know how it was going to go on. So I placed a piton, put in a small carabiner chain( we had no slings) reached out with my left arm, pulled my body out from underneath the overhang, and in one move stood on the ledge. From here the rock went up very steeply and gave me the feeling of being on the rocks of the Dolomites that I love. At first however, I was quite afraid and only happy when I had placed a second piton and I had snapped the rope into the carabiner. Then I moved out to the left and halfway up found up found a good place for the ring piton. I hung in and stood there for a long time. The exposure was beautiful. Turning left, I gained the upper part of the ridge and climbed out.

Fritz followed quickly, as we used to in those days, left in place all three of the pitons we had used. We sat there and looked over the valley, a valley that was very quiet with very few houses. We looked down on the dirt road that is now 299 and it lay quiet without any cars. Then we coiled our ropes and walked home.

Home in the Gunks in those days was the Bayards Inn and that is where we always left our car. We considered the walk to and from the place a pleasant warmup. After dinner we walked out into the yard and looked at the dark hills and the valley that lay dark and quiet with very few lights. We went back to bed to rest for another day of climbing.

*Reprinted from The Eastern Trade Ė Aug. 1972

Jun 3, 2009 - 11:29am PT
Met Fritz in Vermont when Ned Gillette asked Allan Bard and me to accompany him to Fritz's home to have some "color" present while he interviewed him. Very interesting afternoon in 1978. A gentleman in every respect.

Steve -

The espadrilles were great on wet rock as the rope soles actually had more friction when wet. I have heard many tales from Adi Yoerg (FW's young competition in Vermont) who relayed a tale that took place before the war, (he was German) of going into Italy and climbing a huge south face only to find that the dry soles were super slick on the dry rock - so they pissed on the soles of their shoes and climbed on!! I am sure this is true.

I have another story of Fritz that really illustrates the evolution of climbing- and the conceptions that both stymie and stoke the sport.

Adi hears about this "old man" who is putting up rts and goes to the area (I so not think it was in the Gunks) and snoops around to scope out what Fritz its up to. (As Adi was a guide and Fritz had done many climbs with guides he was a bit put off by the mans reputation and wanted to see for himself).

Adi has been wandering around looking up at the rocks when he finally hears some struggle going on up in a chimney.

"Oh Tom, there is Fritz - stuffed in the chimney in his leather knickers - going for all the friction he is worth! I am out on the holds, with the air all around - Isn't THAT climbing"!

This is not meant in any way to insult Fritz. Just an interesting story of the times.


Trad climber
Jun 3, 2009 - 12:08pm PT
I'm you started this thread... and great stories thanks

Everytime I get a chance to do an Uber-Classic the idea that these guys Fritz, Hans, Pruden... put them up in boots! hemp rope! and banging in petons just blows my mind.

But what also really impresses me, is that these people were not just climbers, but well rounded prefessionals and leaders in their chosen field.
Alan Rubin

Jun 3, 2009 - 01:12pm PT
In reply to John Ely. As mentioned in the Wikipedia article Fritz ran a chemical company (his training in Germany) which manufactured a ski wax amongst other products. Remember in those vitually lift-less days all skiers utilized waxes, so this was a significant product. And, like Fuzzy-Wuzzy, I too, had the opportunity to participate in an interview with Fritz at his home in Vermont, this one with Ken Nichols for the Traprock, Connecticut guidebook--though I was even more fascinated leafing through Fritz's climbing scrapbook including his early days in Europe--truely amazing!!!! I imagine that one of his kids has the book as a family hierloom, though it would be wonderful if it (or, at least a copy)were donated to the AAC museum. Someplace I have a wonderful slide, taken at the Gunks during the first visit of Soviet climbers to the US ('75 or '76)of Fritz with the Russian "grand old man" Vitali Abalakov--both in their 70s,smiling, short, bald, but shirtless and buff!!!!--they could almost have been twins!!! I wish I was tech-competent enough to digitize it so I could post it here. I believe that a similar photo appeared in the short-lived North-American Climber magazine.

Gym climber
Jun 3, 2009 - 01:37pm PT
First known/reported ascent of Devils Tower by conventional rock climbing means (i.e., disregarding the stake ladder).

Trad climber
Jun 3, 2009 - 01:51pm PT
From North American Climber.


Jun 3, 2009 - 03:11pm PT
Fritz and Hans were still seen at the 'Gunks I first arrived there. It was quite a sight to see these two gentleman slowly and solemnly walking down the carriage road, side by side, heading off to climb a route on a beautiful fall day.
What I find most amazing about Wiessner was the range of his activities back in the days of more primitive transportation and before the interstate system.

Trad climber
Ouray, Colorado
Jun 3, 2009 - 03:22pm PT
He was a man for all women too. In 1973 while I was in the Gunks, Fritz volunteered to take my girlfriend and her friend up a 5.6 while I was off on something harder. My girlfriend reported back that both she and her friend were belayed up the climb, onto a spacious ledge and right into Fritz's waiting arms. He was in his 70's then, kinda reminds me of Fred Beckey.
Alan Rubin

Jun 3, 2009 - 04:05pm PT
Rich Ross--Thanks for scanning and posting the picture--one of my favorites. It was fantastic--and an honor--to watch the 2 of them interact. Abalakov really wasn't climbing anymore--at least rock climbing, but Fritz was his normal energetic self--directing the climbing during the visit and leading teams up respectable routes. A great experience. And Jim-- you gotta give Fritz and Fred a break in that department. You know we're both getting on in years ourselves !!!!

Trad climber
Jun 6, 2009 - 05:28pm PT
Taken a few hours ago.

Ed Hartouni

Trad climber
Livermore, CA
Jun 7, 2009 - 01:18am PT
from Yankee Rock and Ice - A History of Climbing in the Northeastern United States
by Laura & Guy Waterman

7: Fritz Wiessner

To have come this far in American rock climbing with scarcely a mention of the name of Fritz Wiessner is akin to staging Hamlet without the prince. It is no disservice to the fine climbing of Case's or Underhill's various proteges to concede that the yet more brilliant achievements of the little man from Dresden put them in the shade. Fritz Wiessner did not come to the United States until 1929 and did not discover our climbers and cliffs until 1931, so he was not present at the dawn of northeastern climbing. But during the 1930s his presence was soon felt as is the presence of the sun on a summer's day.

A less likely physical specimen for a man who may well have been the greatest climber of his generation can scarcely be imagined. If the reader pictures a tall, handsome, hawk-eye Teuton, godlike, with a shock of wavy blond hair, broad bronzed shoulders, slender hips, and an air of imperious grandeur and mystery about him, the return to reality may be hard. Fritz Wiessner might more readily have been taken for a baker or bartender than a great alpinist. More gnome than god, he was well below average height, balding, slope-shouldered and stocky, almost without a waist, his features readily creased in a wide and friendly grin. The shape did not easily disclose the strength of arm or catlike agility, while that cheerful grin concealed drive and determination almost unparalleled even among the world-class climbers of his day.

Born in 1900, Wiessner was a German who started climbing in the Austrian Alps with his father before World War I. By the age of sixteen he was a regular climber at the fairyland world of sandstone towers near Dresden, where the pure art of free rock climbing was then more advanced than anywhere in the world. The brilliant Fehrmann, the great bearish American Oliver Perry-Smith and others were leading far ahead of English and American standards, and Fritz was soon aspiring to the front rank of Dresden free-climbers. By the 1920s he was repeating the most difficult and infrequently climbed routes throughout the Alps and doing his own first ascents at a very demanding standard. His special strength lay in wide crack climbing, which requires both technical mastery and uncommon strength.

Alone of all the top Dresden climbers, Wiessner elected to come to the United States, emigrating in 1929 and becoming an American citizen in 1935. Had others of the Dresden men come over, the course of American climbing might have been very different and more rapidly approached European standards. But since he came alone, his name and climbing achievements during the 1930s stand in a class by themselves.

It was not until 1931 that Wiessner made contact with American climbers. Living in the New York area, he met American Alpine Club climbers, few whom climbed much in the East but who put him in touch with Percy Olton. In 1931 Fritz joined Olton and his growing band of Hudson Highland explorers at the Crow's Nest. On the first day he served notice that a new standard of climbing was in store for the New WOrld by attacking that most characteristic of Wiessner attractions: "a wide, slanting crack." Above the strenuous start, intricate route-finding led up through delicate face climbing, laybacks, and an overhang. The excited New York climbers dubbed this intimidating line Fritz's Ritzy Route and hastened to introduce the newcomer to all of the principal cliffs they knew. At each he established routes of a difficulty they had been unwilling to try. On Arden it was the Piton Route, "by far the most difficult" on the cliff (in Orton's words), surmounting steep bulges and a strenuous hand traverse. On Storm King, Fritz worked out The Chimney, more difficult than the earlier Underhill and Pollock routes, requiring "a greater variety of climbing than any other course in the Highlands... and there is no doubt about the exposure," according to a thoroughly impressed Olton. On Breakneck Ridge, Fritz's Prize Route took a magnificent line up the steep, dark rock, with "the smallest margin of climbability" of any of the Hudson Highland climbs.

In 1933 Wiessner contacted Underhill and arranged a visit to New Hampshire's cliffs. At Cathedral Ledge, Underhill showed him teh 5.7 direct start the Will Allis had barely managed to struggle up. Ever at home in a wide crack, Wiessner was up it effortlessly. ("They did not know how to do these climbs," explained the patient veteran of the Dresden circle.) When Underhill called up that he would not attempt to follow that way, so that a complex rearrangement of ropes and belays would be necessary, Fritz called back to ask if the route went straight up the crack. Assured that it did, Wiessner simply untied, threw down the rope, and soloed up the remaining three pitches of the Cathedral Standard (5.6).

At Cannon Wiessner opened a third line north of the Old Cannon route. This was the first to involve the "Old Man" profile, as it finishes by climbing a splendid corner among the various vertical planes that, seen from the road, compose the famous profile. Although technically easier than either the original or Whitney-Gilman route, Wiessner's route has become a much-traveled line, despite the risk of much loose rock. In seconding the original ascent, Underhill was impressed less with the technical skill of the lead than with Wiessner's agility in threading through so much loose rock and gravel without dislodging anything on his follower. "Like a cat on the rock," he marvelled.

On this New Hampshire trip, Wiessner also opened up a new cliff, Humphrey's Ledge, in the neighborhood of Cathedral and Whitehorse. The route that bears his name on Humphrey's was not climbed in its entirety in 1933. Fritz's party (including Underhill and Pollock) avoided the bottom pitch by a circuitous detour and employed a classic shoulder stance at a later point in the climb.

While these New Hampshire triumphs were highly admired at the time, Wiessner's technical prowess reached its greatest American pitch on the unlikely ground of Connecticut's little traprock cliffs. In three years, 1933 through 1935, Fritz made several visits to the New Haven area, climbing with Hassler Whitney and his brother Roger, Henry Beers, and William Burling, and two young New Haven climbers of promise, Betty Woosley and Bill House. At the Sleeping Giant he established a splendid line up the highest section of the Chin, which remained the standard of the area for years. At East Peak he swarmed up a classic Wiessner jam crack that widens into a chimney, then leads out over an overhang into a double crack system above--all unrelentingly vertical and wildly exposed, rated 5.7, though clearly harder than Whitney-Gilman, and still a popular and demanding climb today under the name of Rat Crack.

It was at Ragged Mountain that Wiessner's most imposing lines were put in. In the center of the highest cliff is a low-angle slab that rises to a broad ledge 30 feet below the top. From either side of this ledge, large vertical cracks lead straight to the top. Few holds help the climber; they must be dealt with by good jamming technique or wide stemming. Fritz climbed both with virtually no protection and in a style that modern climbers rate 5.8. This was a level of difficulty new for the United States. Twenty years later a Yale climber said of one of these two cracks: "Your author knows it exists but doesn't even want to see it, let alone you-know-what it."

Even more astonishing at this time was Vector, which Fritz put up with Roger Whitney in 1935. The current authority on Connecticut rock, Ken Nichols, describes Vector thus: "Starting as a small, relatively easy inside corner, this fine route finishes as a flared crack through a bulge. It was a bold lead in the mid-1930s, with only a single pin being placed for protection below the bulge before a 20-foot runout through the crux above." Fritz went up twice to try it but each time turned back, reluctant to commit himself to such a strenuous and unprotected sequence of moves. On the third occasion he made the commitment and completed what probably remained the hardest single lead in the country for almost twenty years. (A 1952 climb in California's Taquitz area is sometimes called America's first 5.9. A 1937 climb, The Mechanics Route, also at Taquitz, has been called "the country's first 5.8." Not so, While some may fault Wiessner's Connecticut climbs for being short, there is absolutely no question that they were technically at least 5.8. In 1987 two climbers with extensive eastern and western experience climbed both The Mechanics Route and Vector within a few days' time; their conclusion was emphatically that Vector was a far more serious lead.)

In the late 1930s, Wiessner got to the Adirondacks. He had made a brief and unsatisfactory reconnaissance before with Henry Beers, at which time a cursory look at Wallface left him with the impression that the main face was unclimbable. Nevertheless, he was back at Indian Pass in 1936 and again in 1937, only to be snowed off twice. Finally on Memorial Day weekend 1938, he returned with Beckett Howorth and Bob Notman and pushed a line up the center of the face that had repulsed Case and Goodwin years before. Weissner used Case's 1933 line as a down-route, generously praising Case's route as "possibly an even nicer climb than ours... cleaner... interesting crack and face work." By this time, Wiessner had fallen in love with Wallface and its setting, which he ever after regarded as the most beautiful climbing area in the Northeast, because of its "feeling of altitude" and "charm of solitude" so uniquely combined there. During this three-day weekend in 1938, Fritz's party also polished off new routes on Indian Head and at Chapel Pond, advancing the standard of difficulty at each cliff.

Besides pioneering new routes in the Hudson Highlands, New Hampshire, Connecticut, and the Adirondacks, Fritz Wiessner also discovered the Shawangunks (chapter 9), opened up new cliffs on Mount Desert's pink granite, and eventually moved to Vermont where he explored the Green Mountain cliffs. Thus he is remarkable for the regionwide breadth of his activity. Even Lake Willoughby's crumbling cliffs, the long-dormant ice climbing mecca that seemed to be discovered for the first time in the 1970s, had been explored by Fritz and his climbing partners thirty years before. One might expect that the interstate highways and improved communication among climbers might have produced many more regionwide itinerants, but the ranks remain thin of those who have made such significant contributions over the entire Northeast. It is not until Henry Barber in the early 1970s that comparable breadth of innovative climbing can be found.

While Fritz himself felt that his rock climbing peak was reached in Europe in the 1920s, he emerged as a major mountaineer on the world stage during the 1930s. The catalog of his accomplishments during that decade is without parallel among his contemporaries--a major attempt on Nanga Parbat in 1932; coming very, very close to climbing K2 in 1939, years before any of the big Himalayan 8,000-meter peaks had been climbed; British Columbia's Mount Waddington in 1936 with Bill House, one of the top ascents of the decade; a bold and virtually unprotected lead of Wyoming's Devil's Tower, its first free ascent, in 1937, in which Fritz felt he was in peak form; plus innumerable other mountaineering coups around the globe. It has been said that half the mountain ranges of the world have a "Wiessner Crack." He was called the greatest climber of his generation.

Even more astonishing perhaps was the incredible staying power of this Dresden youth who began climbing in 1911. When he was still getting up all his old routes at the age of sixty, younger men thought him remarkable. At sixty-four he spearheaded an attempt on the unclimbed Elephant's Head cliff in Smuggler's Notch: the first complete ascent fell to another, but not until Fritz had worked out the technical difficulties of the crucial first pitch--a steep crack, of course. In his seventies he was still going strong, befriending young climbers, never dwelling on the past, always looking for the next climb. When nearly eighty, he would apologize that he no longer cared to lead above 5.6 but would willingly follow 5.9. Once at the Shawangunks, when he was well over seventy, he joined a young partner to climb Madame Grunnebaum's Wulst, a dead vertical 5.6 of fearsome exposure, especially on the airy second pitch. On their way to the climb, his young friend disclosed that he had recently soloed this route, at which Wiessner beamed and commented: "Ah, you must vee climbing pretty goot!" The younger man led the first pitch, then handed the rack to old Fritz, who proceeded to lead the entire second pitch, with its three wildly exposed 5.6 bulges, without placing a single piece of protection--virtually the equivalent of soloing the upper pitch. When his partner reached the top, Fritz grinned impishly and said: "I must vee climbing pretty goot!"

In his middle eighties, to observe his countenance, the spring in his step, the animation in his conversation--to say nothing of his grace on steep rock or his effervescent enthusiasm for climbing every month of the year--one might have easily mistaken him for one in his fifties, though in unusual physical shape and confident attitude toward life and climbing. Finally, in his upper eighties, a series of strokes brought this most remarkable climbing career to a close. He died in 1988.

In his prime, Wiessner's personal style was not universally admired. Perhaps as tacit acknowledgment of his superior skill, he insisted on leading almost every climb he did in this country during the 1930s. Underhill recalled that one of the conditions that Fritz laid down in arranging for their tour of New Hampshire cliffs in 1933 was that Fritz would do all the leading. Some other climbers found this attitude overbearing and preferred not to climb with him. It would be incorrect to exaggerate the extend of this feeling among climbers, however; many partners thoroughly enjoyed Wiessner's company, felt he was a patient teacher, and commented on his freedom from overbearing self-importance. Perhaps it was merely that Wiessner recognized that only the leader undertook the genuine risk in climbing under prewar conditions. When he was over eighty, he followed a younger partner, Jim McCarthy, up a 5.6 route famous for its intimidating qualities (High Exposure at the Shawangunks--chapter 9); when congratulated afterward, he demurred: "I didn't climb it. Jim climbed it. I just followed." Then, as fifty years earlier, the old Dresden warrior felt that if you weren't out there at the front end of the rope, you weren't really climbing.

Although an inspiration to modern climbers, his impact on the 1930s scene is harder to evaluate. In a sense, Fritz Wiessner was not an important influence on American climbing in the 1930s, because what he was doing was so far ahead of what others were willing to try that he did not significantly improve the general standard. His influence was felt in his dedication to Dresden ideals of free climbing, so that northeasterners were further indoctrinated with the idea that to use aid was to cheat. Furthermore, of course, he left a legacy of routes for all to enjoy. Perhaps his greatest gift to eastern climbing was his "discovery" of the Shawangunks. However his influence be evaluated, Fritz Wiessner became by 1933 and remained for fifty years a dynamic presence, well known to all the northeastern climbing community.

Reference Notes
Ed Webster's profile of Wiessner in Climbing, "A Man for All Mountains," December 1988, pp. 102-108, is an important source, although its emphasis is on Wiessner's worldwide achievements rather than the northeastern United States. For his Hudson Highlands early climbs, see Percy T. Olton, Jr., "New York Rock Climbs," Appalachia, June 1938, pp. 12-26. Our prime source for his New Hampshire ascents was conversations with Robert L. M. Underhill. His Connecticut climbs are covered in Rubin's historical essay in Ken Nichol's Traprock: Rock Climbing in Central Connecticut (New York: American Alpine Club, 1982). Wiessner's Adirondacks trips were written up in (unsigned) "Rock Climbers Route: New Way Up Wallface," Bulletin of the Adirondack Mountain Club, June-July 1938, pp. 8 and 14; M. Beckett Howroth, "New Routes in the Adirondacks," Appalachia, December 1938, pp. 259-260; and Wiessner gave a more general write up of the region's climbs in "Rock Climbing in the Northeast," Bulletin of the Intercollegiate Outing Club Association, Winter 1948, pp. 42-48, 72. Wiessner was very helpful to the authors in compiling this chapter, both in conversations and correspondence; and climbers too numerous to mention contributed to our understanding of how Wiessner was perceived by the climbing community of the 1930s.
Peter Haan

Trad climber
San Francisco, CA
Jun 7, 2009 - 01:31am PT
Thanks for this unique, fabulous and rather poignant piece from the Watermans...a separate subject of course.

I knew Andy Wiesner. He married a dear old friend of mine, a descendent of Grandma Curry, by the way. (She had been a girlfriend of one our ST-town members for a few years). I visited her in Idaho and then later they came to my horse ranch about 17 years ago. I guess this Angus Wiesner is their son or nephew! God how time is relentless. Some of the qualities for which Fritz is so well-known are present in Andy, an environmental attorney in Colorado.

best to you Ed, ph.

right here, right now
Jul 29, 2009 - 10:09pm PT
As requested by Steve Grossman:


Trad climber
Ouray, Colorado
Jul 29, 2009 - 10:12pm PT
Is there rock in Vermont? I thought it was all over in New Hampshire.
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