John Bachar... Inspirational Tales

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seamus mcshane

climber
Topic Author's Original Post - Jul 6, 2009 - 04:05pm PT
Lucky enough to meet him once at Deadman's I 8/94?.

Watching him flawlessly STYLE every project of mine, I knew I had seen true mastery.

Thumping bass from the 4-Runner only feet away, I remembered a quote from Bachar, "Imagine your fingers are steel hooks..."

As I watched him float up one problem after another, I said out loud and to nobody in particular,
"His fingers ARE steel hooks!!!".

John's quote "Imagine your fingers are steel hooks" has always been my soloing (5.8/5.9 max) Mantra.

I think the quote is referenced to DR. ???

I am just sick with grief today, no way around that.

RIP JB.

JB,RK,JP,WB Eldo 1975/6?

These youngsters look like they're having the time of their lives!!!
steelmnkey

climber
Vision man...ya gotta have vision...
Jul 6, 2009 - 04:11pm PT
This quote is what I always think of with respect to JB.

"Yosemite was THE place, Bachar was THE guy, that makes him more than just a climber."
    Peter Croft.
ron gomez

Trad climber
fallbrook,ca
Jul 6, 2009 - 04:54pm PT
Two Bachar Inspirational Tales: both told before on ST
Was up in Tuoulmne on a "family" vacation, so I was up early one morning and I took my Mother in law for a walk out to the Lembert Dome apron. Quiet morning, not much happening, we're walking along and I'm trying to explain to her how this climbing thing is pretty safe and how we use ropes and protection to assure our safety! Really pilling on thick to reassure her that her daughter has NOTHING to worry about "her crazy climbing husband" all is safe. So up comes John in his SHORT white addidas shorts, chalk bag and shoes, no shirt, big bushy blond mop, looking like the climbing god. I introduce him to the Momms and she's all happy her son in law knows some other knuckleheads up here. Well John does the cordials and then continues up the apron and continues to solo up some slab climb. My mother in law has just listened to me tell her how we use ALL this equipment and how safe everything is and along comes John makin' look like we ARE the knuckleheads she thinks we are! She give me this look like she wanted to kill me for lying to her Thanks a big one for that John!
The other tale was about his generosity and kindness: I'm on another trip in the Meadows with a group of Russians in like 1988 or 89 and I take em up South Crack late in the afternoon so we can watch the sunset from the top. I lead the entire thing and there are 2 teams of three climbers. No big deal. So these Russians are some big time climbers from there, so I ASSUME they know all about the gear and all. Well I lead off and start pluggin' gear on the first pitch and look down at my belayer and notice he has no belay device on, nor is the rope going around his waist(old hip belay)so I shout down what is going on. Answer is, "you ARE on belay, in Russia we use dynamic belay", so I realize if I fall, I fall a long ways before they "slow" me down. No biggy, I'd done the climb plenty of times and felt comfy "soloing" it. So we do the climb, with no problems...until we get to the top. The second team is missing like almost ALL the cams I gave them. I ask em where they are and they tell me,"couldn't get them out of crack." I go ballistic thinking I've just lost about 1/2 dozen cams! So up early the next morning to go retrieve the cams before someone booties them. Me and my partner are at the big flake after the face traverse up high pulling out one of the cams, not having much success. I notice someone quickly soloing the route and then recognize it's Bachar. He comes up to our belay, we say hi, ask him to work on the cam, he reaches in and pulls it out like it's a prefect placement. I'm embarrassed, and John tells us to meet him at his truck when we get down. So I gather up the boys and tell them who they are going to get to meet, they're thrilled. We go over to his truck and John gets introduced all around, then pulls out a huge duffle full of prototype shoes(Boreal)gives a pair to each and everyone of them and spend all the time talking to and answering all their questions. It was the highlight of their trip to the US. They thought I was god for letting them talk with "Mr" Bachar. He was like that on many occasions, I miss ya John!
Scared Silly

Trad climber
UT
Jul 6, 2009 - 06:00pm PT
I am not so sure this story is that inspirational but in the spring of 87 in Josh. I jokingly had a B-morning.

I had my babe, a bagel and beer for breakfast, and then soloed a route like Bachar. Wish I could remember the route - I think it was Gait of Power. Seems fitting with JB in mind.
Ricky D

Trad climber
Sierra Westside
Jul 6, 2009 - 11:09pm PT
I moved to California in 1974. Being it was my senior year in a new high school on the other side of the country - I stood out like a zit in a beauty pageant.

Since I hated water - being a surfer was out. Despite dark hair and some remedial Spanish - the Chollos wanted nothing to do with me, the preppies thought I was a geek from South Carolina, and the stoners...well, they were too much for a weed virgin like me.

That left the really fringe guys to pal around with. Guys that would grow up to be engineers and therapists - they had one thing in common - they climbed around on rocks.

Since I knew how to tie knots from my days as a Camp Counselor at my old Boy Scout Camp (Old Indian - Atta Kulla Kulla Lodge!) they accepted me into the fold of those rock climbing weirdos.

I loved it.

Truth be told - most of our exploits were limited to farting around on Mugu Rock, or sessions at Stoney Point with some core side trips to Sespe or JT!. Yosemite - fuk! - that was serious shite and we were anything but serious!

So for the next few years we played around at being "climbers" - hung out at Coonyard's shop in Ventura spouting the crap, and reading the latest mags for the beta on guys like JB.

I did this half-azz climber life until the early 80's when I got married and got a career and produced a child which collectively pretty much killed my time on the stone.

But I still thought about climbing - and I still read Climbing every month and I still looked at guys like John as living the life and pushing the limits and I was in awe.

After my divorce in the mid 80's I threw myself into climbing as physical and spiritual therapy. I cranked on my homemade Bachar Ladder, lapped on my crackboard, and did pullups til I puked.

All the while, I still poured over the climbing rags reading the exploits of guys like John. Purity. That's what I remember about those articles. One man, one guy, just one calendar year older than me but light years ahead of me in terms of purity of action and commitment.

So one day, a foggy June gloom morning in Ventura County, I decided to commit. I drove my POS Vega wagon out to a lone boulder in Camarillo Grove Park and with nothing more than my beloved Fires and a bag of gym chalk - I decided to free myself.

With the roar of the Conejo Grade in my ears, I free soloed this 25 foot high lump of insignificant rock in the middle of a field of chaparral. With remembered magazine images of JB in my head, I told myself that what one man can do - so can another. It just takes commitment.

I did not fall. I did not piss on myself. I did not tell anyone for years. But what I did do that day was to briefly dip a small fingertip of myself into the rarefied air of people like John. I got the barest taste of what he must have felt everyday of his life. That day, that inspiration, that unspoken challenge from the grainy photos in some magazine made me dare to be brave.

I have taken chances ever since without fear.

I will remember this man for all of my days.











marko

Boulder climber
Simi Valley, CA
Jul 10, 2009 - 04:58am PT
At one point in the conversation John hung from a slopy slot with one hand about seventy feet off the deck. He never lost the rhythym of the conversation. This was where a lot of so called men would be crying for mama. He casually rotatated at the wrist for a couple of seconds, boned out, taking his time, telling Johnson and me about the Goats, a politically conscious band he dug, and how he had heard about the Swimming Hole.I had seen first hand over the years that the man had gifts, but every time you watched him do his magic it was as though you were alive to hear Coltrane play Giant Steps, or Love Supreme. The man moved like Ballachine with the power of Bruce Lee; only an idiot would'nt be slack jawed by the experience. The man was poetic in life and will be beyond,and his humble graceful movements over the terra will not go unnoticed. He found rhythyms in places only the boldest will ever dare to go, and he committed himself to that ethos completly. He dedicated his soul to the Earth long before he flew from mortals reaches. This was a man who sung a great song that will always ring in the coccles of my heart. Peace and Love Brother, from Marko and Terrill with Great Affection.
S.Powers

Social climber
Jtree, now in Alaska
Jul 10, 2009 - 07:03am PT
post bump to a great man, and to get rid of Onyx the A-hole.
survival

Big Wall climber
A Token of My Extreme
Jul 10, 2009 - 10:30am PT
S.Powers,

Dang son, you're all over the place this morning aren't you? HA!
martygarrison

Trad climber
The Great North these days......
Jul 10, 2009 - 10:25pm PT
folks hate to rain on any parade but I don't think that is JB in the pic.
WBraun

climber
Jul 10, 2009 - 10:33pm PT
Sorry marty

That is John. I can 1000% confirm it as I'm standing right there on the right.

The photo was taken with my camera in eldo canyon. Kauk and Jim Pettigrew are in the picture too.

I have the original slide right here in my place.
martygarrison

Trad climber
The Great North these days......
Jul 10, 2009 - 10:37pm PT
WB, I stand corrected. I never saw a pic where he looked so young before.
WBraun

climber
Jul 10, 2009 - 10:49pm PT
Here's a re-sized original scan of the slides.

martygarrison

Trad climber
The Great North these days......
Jul 10, 2009 - 10:51pm PT
WB, thank you.
WBraun

climber
Jul 10, 2009 - 10:52pm PT
Yeah Walleye.
WBraun

climber
Jul 10, 2009 - 10:54pm PT
Yeah Walleye

I have a shot of John and Ron K climbing in Eldo.

Have to go find it.
Russ Walling

Gym climber
Poofter's Froth, Wyoming
Jul 10, 2009 - 11:59pm PT
Here is some inspiration:

In the B loop of Josh one time in my youth.... maybe 1983 or so. JB and me are blabbing about training or something..... then he tells me, "do something for your climbing every day". That was the key to getting better. Then he tells me I should plan on "peaking" with whatever I wanted to do in climbing by the time I was 26 or 27. After that he said it was all downhill!!!!

Well.... time has proven him correct in my case.
Tarbuster

climber
right here, right now
Jul 11, 2009 - 12:33am PT
Prolly ’86 or ’87…
I was renting from Dimitri Barton in Foresta.

Got up one morning to drive down into The Valley to:
“Drag dudes up routes by their weenies for spare change” (guiding at YMS).
Had this nifty little Toyota Corolla, which was all of a Boss Mustang 429, por Moi ...
(“It’s all in the mind” I once heard, from some guy ….)

Pulling the usual 1G corners, whistling my way to work, when Bachar nudges up behind me in the black Toyota 4Runner. So I floored it, and started really throwing the old bucket into the corners …HARD.
Laughing too, as John was right behind me turn for turn.

Somewhere around Reeds he made the pass; then pulled over at the T down at the bottom, (he must’ve been heading down Cookie or Arch Rock way), and as I motored up alongside to make my left turn, he flashes me a fat grin and the big thumbs up!

Totally hilarious, straight out of Top Gun.
Mimi

climber
Jul 11, 2009 - 12:56am PT
Just being in his presence in Yosemite from 83-87 was an honor. Talking to him about Boreal shoe design at a Trade Show in 2000 was so cool. He was so down to earth and engaging. What a climbing luminary. He will be missed.

I always laugh about the time at Thanksgiving in JTree in '85 when we all went to a local diner's turkey dinner. We all ordered up and of a table of maybe 10-20 people, John was the only vegetarian who wanted nothing to do with the gravy. We all ribbed him for being a pain in the ass ordering a salad when he could've grazed on all the fixins'. That was John. True to his convictions even at the dinner table. LOL!
Tarbuster

climber
right here, right now
Jul 11, 2009 - 01:02am PT
If the world is right, there will be a freaking STATUE of Bachar somewhere in The Valley...
Mimi

climber
Jul 11, 2009 - 01:10am PT
At the minimum, a little rubber Bachar on Gripper where the gorilla used to be. He'd like that.
Tarbuster

climber
right here, right now
Jul 11, 2009 - 01:21am PT
At the close of the Winter 1982 or 1983.
Josh, Baby.

Grandma Roberts and I were hanging out at the entrance to B Loop where Bachar was sitting down right near the bulletin board, leaning against a blue ballistics pack, jotting stuff down in a spiral notebook.

"Watcha do'in with the logbook John?"
"Writing down my solo routines, so I can look back in later years and remember exactly what I was up to..."

Cripes, not that I recall the particular list of the day according to what I viewed as I glanced over his shoulder, but of course it was like: Left Ski Track, Spider Line, Hot Rocks, maybe Baby Apes, The Beave and so forth.

(Told me he lost those records in the Foresta fire)
Russ Walling

Gym climber
Poofter's Froth, Wyoming
Jul 11, 2009 - 01:27am PT
Some of his "art" lives on..... ho-man... that whole deal was some funny stuff. He had talent!
Tarbuster

climber
right here, right now
Jul 11, 2009 - 01:29am PT
Zippy the Pinhead 'toons.
Among the finest works ever scribed.
Tarbuster

climber
right here, right now
Jul 11, 2009 - 01:37am PT
Someone is blowing a mean sax just now.
Coming right up through my kitchen window from a few blocks down town.
Mark Rodell

Trad climber
Bangkok
Jul 11, 2009 - 08:19am PT
This is a good thread because it talks of effects and effects speak of influence.

I had the luck to work in Nepal and on off weeks trek in the mountains. After a short bit I met up with a sherpa guide with whom I did a lot of hard walks.

We were walking in the Helambu region and after a week of walking were ready to return to Kathmandu. At the creast of a pass there was a ridge line that took off to the north. There was somewhat of a peak before the ridge fell into the canyon below. Pasang, my guide, said right away, "Let's go up there."

I was a bit reluctant. My wife of the time had taken the easy way down the trail and it was near noon. Pasang's proposal looked long. We had full packs and no climbing gear but it did look cool. I too wanted to see what we would see from there.

Okay, I said and we were off. To get to the summit we'd had to get up a series of blocks. No big deal. The first three hundred meters went easy, forth class. But just before we could crest the ridgeline, the easy scrambling stopped. We were in a alcove that you could fit a lazy-boy chair. Above was block that overhung so we would have to go out onto the face. The exposure was tough. There were features on the face and there was a gap to jam. I could tell, 5.8. But I did not want to commit. Pasang was worried too, said, "Let's try another way." But I knew there was no other way really. It was go, or down.

We messed about a bit but in my mind I knew I was at a cross roads. Too often I had retreated only to hate myself later.

A picture, an idea of Bacher mixed with Kaulk came to mind. Somehow, I knew I could gut it up, get up those twenty feet, just twenty feet and we be there, on the ridgetop.

I lead off with On the Lamb in mind. It was no big deal. The knob on the face was big enough. The gap between the block and face did afford a jam.

Pasang needed me to throw down an aid; I took out my sleeping bag and with a water bottle in the foot sack, he clung a tad and made it up.

We got to a nothing summit and followed an easy way down and met up with the trail two hours later.

The inspiration?

JB and the pictures of him doing it. Kaulk, doing what was known to be in their realm of doing.

Fear. Thank you to the leaders for helping me start to deal with my fears.
east side underground

Trad climber
Hilton crk,ca
Jul 11, 2009 - 11:37am PT
Had fun/inspirational days riding powder with John on the mountiain. It was cool in that it was just, fun, seeing him smile, at ease, just enjoying the moment, riding, not under the scrutiny of being BACHAR the icon, the heavy. Just another bro shredding the fluff.
E

Social climber
Tujunga CA.
Jul 13, 2009 - 10:45pm PT
Here's one
I was lucky enough to purchase from John one of the first pairs of Fires that the Soul Survivor company got.
I had been working on Blue Suede Shoes but had'nt been able to do it.
Put on the shoes and smoothed it first try that day.
When I told John he got a big smile on his face and said something like "see dude?"

Erik
Jaybro

Social climber
Wolf City, Wyoming
Jul 14, 2009 - 05:48pm PT
I really liked Mimi's idea, I've been on the lookout for the right looking tiny manequin of the right size. It's been too long since I've climbed Gripper.
LongAgo

Trad climber
Jul 14, 2009 - 06:50pm PT
Honoring John's Memory

On another thread on the Bachar-Yerian, I said in part "... I have no words for the death of John, only immense sadness and, now, concern for his son especially and hope there will be a fund or other mechanism so we who stood in awe can take some small positive action in line with our admiration for John, though any such action will hardly stand against the dismay and grief."

Perhaps I missed it on a thread, but any word on whether his family and/or friends are setting up a fund in memory of John for either his son or for works or services John would want supported, or perhaps for a memorial plaque or book or something in his honor?

Tom Higgins
LongAgo
James

climber
My twin brother's laundry room
Jul 14, 2009 - 07:26pm PT
I held the rope nervously as a man twice my age with four times my courage ascended the runout face climb.

John Bachar moved with a delicate grace. His feet transitioned smoothly onto each rugosity of Hammer Dome's classic 5.10c Shadow of Doubt. At each bolt, he stopped, leaned into the wall and mimicked the stance that he would take if he had been the first ascentionist hand drilling the route on lead. John climbed the route with a casualness and poise I had never seen.

On Sunday, July 5, while climbing on the Dike Wall in Mammoth, John fell. It is unknown what caused his fall or where exactly on the wall he was. John laid in a pool of his blood, breathing but unconscious. The rescue team moved as quickly as possible, carrying him across a boulder field to a nearby lake, where they loaded him into a motorboat and brought him to Mammoth Hospital. John died in the hospital, due to the severity of his injuries.

John Coltrane belted into a funky solo on his sax as John scrolled through his slideshow and dozens of photos of soloing in Joshua Tree. There was John bouldering on Up 40, sticking it out on the line on More Funky then Monkey, and being cool and composed on Father Figure. Hearing the voice of Johnny Rock describe soloing touched me. He spoke about slow warm ups, about taking a fresh approach to soloing everyday. Cool and calculated emotions controlled his ropeless climbing; when he felt off or insecure in his movement he simply stopped. Soloing was an integral part of the climbing experience.

A few days after John’s slide show, I found myself at the base of Joshua Tree’s North Overhang on Intersection Rock. Four and a half years earlier, I fell from the top of the formation while free soloing. My body flew seventy feet before hitting a ledge. I rolled off and fell another thirty feet to the ground. I laid in a pool of my own blood. It was a lonely place. I had 8 surgeries, spent 81 days in the hospital, and returned to climbing 381 days later. John inspired me to return.

The four-runner bumped, shaking its black frame side to side, as Public Enemy belted heavy, old-school beats. The SUV parked on the side of 120 between Tenaya Lake and Tuolumne Meadows. The bass kept booming as John, Lucho, Linh, and I fell out of John’s rig.

We marched a long thirty minutes to South Whizz Dome, wheezing from the high altitude of Tuolumne. We skirted a small marsh, then hit a small slope of granite. Just around the corner from the start of the dome came the wall- a hundred fifty feet of technical steep edges and knobs. Kurt Smith and John established many of the hard, run-out, ground-up test pieces. John made the first ascent, on top rope, of a beautiful black streak in the middle of the wall. From a ledge sixty feet off the ground, Blackout follows a series of walnut knobs for sixty feet. Kurt onsighted the route, drilling two bolts on the lead, snagging the first lead ascent, and solidifying the 5.11 route as a serious undertaking. The route with its old bolts, and scary old-school vertical climbing is the definition of a “museum climb.” John flaked out the rope, grabbed two quick draws, and a couple of cams.


After fifteen feet of delicate climbing, John clipped a quarter inch rusty bolt. Another twenty feet passed before John clipped another rusty quarter incher. He moved slowly, placing his feet, shifting his hips, and transferring his weight onto the overhanging knobs with the elegancy of a ballet dancer and the funk of Flavor Flav. He danced his way, unprotected for thirty feet, to the top.

A few years prior, John crashed his car while driving back from the Outdoor Retailer show in Salt Lake City. The vertebrae in his spine were fused and he had limited mobility in his neck. We talked extensively about recovery, about the best ways to deal with trauma, and return to climbing. John told me my recovery was impressive. “You’re one of my heroes,” he said. Watching John climb Blackout, to fight through his own injuries and remain bold, made the metal in my spine become a little more pliable.

I free soloed the North Overhang. It was a cathartic experience for me. If I had fallen again, I would have wanted to die. Trying to fight through the pain would have killed me-if not physically, then emotionally and mentally. John’s candid talk about soloing invigorated me, and reminded me how precious those ropeless moments are. His talk planted a seed in my mind to return to Joshua Tree.

A week before he died, we talked about meeting up this summer to climb some more scary routes in the meadows. I wanted a ropegun and John’s passion for climbing was insatiable. He wanted to get his granite legs underneath him before heading to the meadows. John always climbed so solidly. It pains me to think of him falling. John was a legend. A man made immortal not just by his deeds but by who he was. He will be missed.
WBraun

climber
Jul 14, 2009 - 08:47pm PT
Awesome post James, just awesome ......
Clint Cummins

Trad climber
SF Bay area, CA
Jul 14, 2009 - 10:03pm PT
Beautiful, James. Thanks for sharing your thoughts with us. With your writing skills, they are always so clear that they hardly seem like words.

http://jamesclucas.blogspot.com/
T2

climber
Cardiff by the sea
Jul 14, 2009 - 11:11pm PT
One of the finist post's I have read here at the supertopo James. Inspiring and touching to say the least.

Thanks for you post! This is the stuff that makes the taco stand worthy.
yosemitemtb

Social climber
Mariposa
Jul 15, 2009 - 12:56am PT
Wow, thanks for sharing James.
Brunosafari

Boulder climber
OR
Jul 15, 2009 - 01:17am PT
That's a home run, James, and so are you!
Fogarty

climber
Back in time..
Jul 15, 2009 - 01:21am PT
JB, Bump!!!!
Jaybro

Social climber
Wolf City, Wyoming
Jul 15, 2009 - 01:22am PT
When you're on, you're amazing, James, thank you very much!
Fogarty

climber
Back in time..
Jul 15, 2009 - 01:44am PT
James WOW, North over hang < way to get back on that horse and send that ROOF, I almst jumped of pinched rib onsight solo back in 83, but that guy watusi told me to moe ore die! my thoughts of the courage you had to have and the gift of a mentor (JB). AWSOME BUMP,BUMP!
Crag

Trad climber
Pennsyltuckey
Jul 15, 2009 - 07:59am PT
a bump for JB & James.

Love your blog James.
shipoopoi

Big Wall climber
oakland
Jul 25, 2009 - 04:31am PT
i happened to go to college at chico state university, where, in my sophmore year, i met brenda lugo, a climber from puerto rico. we became friends, and when she introduced me to her boyfriend, it was freaking john bachar. i had first met john in joshua tree while two of my friends and i were projecting bearded cabbage. john arrivesd on scene, gym socks, tight shorts and all and says to us.......mind if i boog on up? we were like, go for it, right on, live it up. john proceeds to hike the 10c like hes drinking his first sips of coffee. i copy his sequence, boog on up myself, and watch him santer off toward the left ski track.
in chico, john and i became friends, and even got out to the crags a bit. climbing with john for a day at sugarloaf, he picked through gear to lead a 5.10 on sugarbun. he picks out three stoppers for the 60 foot climb. i'm like, "that's it", and he's like, "man, if i got a stopper within 15 feet of me i'm pretty comfortable." so he goes and floats it with a couple of stoppers. later that day, we are on the grand illusion, throwing ourselves at what is literally the hardest route in the world at that time. and he's like belaying me, and cheering me on, and pushing me, it was so awesome. yaniro had done this 13c the year before in 78, and we both came away pretty impressed.
Bachar was no less than a climbing god to me, and i could never really fathom the amount of head control it took to do what he did, day in and day out. in trying to repeat some of his scariest routes BITD, i realize we were no less than disciples of his, emulating his style of control by running out routes ridiculously. thank god we got a clue around 1990 and starting bolting things properly, or tuolumne would be only horrorshows now.
so, that was just the start of a robust relationship with johnny rock, who took me under his wing while i was young, and gave me the gift of the purest ethics i know, and who encouraged me to practice my own gifts among the knobs of tuolumne. thanks john, those were rad times. ciao for now, steve
Double D

climber
Jul 25, 2009 - 03:41pm PT
I'm not sure this qualifies as "inspirational" but it's a classic Bachar tale (copied from an earlier post).

Back in ’76 or 77, Max Jones, Augie Klein and I decided we wanted to do Tangerine Trip. For those of you who didn’t climb in that era, the Trip had a reputation of being a bad-adzed route that there was no possible way to retreat from… it was thought to be too overhanging. If I remember right we figured that our’s was the 7th or 8th ascent. The only first hand beta we had was from Bachar, Kauk and Bard who both scarred the crap out of us sent us reeling with their comical tales of hanging bivi’s gone awry.

So we show up at the base to fix the 1st 4 pitches and there’s a frigg’n party ahead of us. It’s Jim Orey and Jack Roberts. He assures us that they’re just doing the first 5 or 6 pitches and then venturing out to a new route (that somewhat became Aurora). Cool, we’re back on track.

So he’s on the 4th pitch, which at the time was supposedly the crux and we’d just fixed the first two. Not wanting to crowd the belay we hang for a bit…and then a bit more…and then a bit more and finally after a good four hours we’re able to proceed. I knew that Jim had done a bunch of “hardman” stuff and at this point I was somewhat concerned about leading the 4th before darkness set in as we only had about three hours left. It ended up being fine, only took and hour to lead and I’m thinking to myself what could have taken him so long? Just about that time I notice that there was a fairly steady stream of empty beer cans floating downward that I most likely didn’t notice earlier in the day so I assume that they must have been a little hammered.

The next day we launched with a couple of pitches between us. There’s a non-stop flow of empty beer cans coming off rivaling horsetail falls. Jim hollered down that he had not done much climbing in a few years and made certain that they didn’t “suffer” too much in regards to their ample supplies. They must have gone through a case that day…it was way too funny!

That night we had an amazing lightning storm. We watched a wall of water ungulate to and fro but rarely hitting us due to the severity of the overhanging wall. The next morning it became obvious that the storm was going to last several days. Being on an overhanging wall and staying dry we figured that it was no worries though. So Jim and Jack are two pitches above us and he yells down that they are going to bail because they’ve run “drastically” short on beer. He asks if they could tie their two ropes with our three and shoot for the ground. We were at the top of the 6th or 7th pitch and because of all the meandering of the route we reckoned that the ropes would make the ground. So they proceeded to rap out into space from the anchors never coming close to the wall. In fact where the rope hit the talus was a good 200’ out from the base. Pretty wild rap, that’s for sure!

So Augie, Max and I were getting ready to pull up the ropes and lead when it struck Augie and I that we could rap down to the creature comforts of the Mt. Room Bar that evening and come back after the storm. Although the bar didn’t have any appeal to Max, Augie and I became master-salesmen and in just moments we too followed suit rapping down into a seemingly endless void of air. As I descended the wall just got further and further away. The undulating wall of rain was still way out beyond our reach but the dense clouds surrounding me were like being in a white room with no corners. All I could think of was how much fun this was going to be to jug back up.

Now the morning comes for us to blast off again after waiting out the storm in the luxurious comforts of camp 4. We opt for an alpine start and arrive at the base just after first light only to find Mr. Bachar with this sh1t-eat’n grin on his face. He immediately explains that he thought it might make for some good pictures and he knew we were blasting off…”so here I am” he says.

Strange, I thought, why didn’t he just come with us? Nothing else was said and soon we were underway jugging the endless jug way out in space. I was so busy taking pictures that I didn’t really think about it anymore. The picture I took that ended up in Yosemite Climber of Augie jugging came from that morning.

We eventually finished the climb with mostly crappy weather and topped out in a horrendous snowstorm on May 1st, dug a hole around the base of a tree to bivi in and decided to slog down the Falls trail rather than getting diced out on the East ledges.

So about a month after this, John comes up to me and fesses up: he’d clipped into our line, scrambled up the 3rd class ledges on the 1st pitch and proceeded to go for the largest rope swing possibly in Yosemite’s history. He wanted to do it on the sly because he feared that I’d be really pissed off about it. He’d just finished taking off his swami minutes before we arrived and was so pumped with adrenaline that he couldn’t think of any better excuse for me than the picture scheme. Of course I busted up and wished that I’d thought of doing the same with such a rare opportunity!

So indirectly, Mr. Orey and Mr. Robert's brush with a no-beer drought set the stage for a historical, albeit little-known, feat in Yosemite.

RIP John
guyman

Social climber
Moorpark, CA.
Jul 3, 2014 - 10:03am PT
Five years……

I will tell this tale.

John wasn’t always the superstar rockclimber, at one time he was a gumby, just like you and me.

John, Bullwinkle and I were heading to Josh in like early 74. On the drive out there we were on a mission. The mission was to climb a F10. And we were determined to do it that weekend or die.

Early Saturday morning, after a few boulder problems, we were ready.

Judas, a F10 was the target. At the base we determine that it was Bullwinkles turn to lead this sucker, John has his brand new rack all ready to go and he placed the first piece up a few moves. Dean fires up to the crux after clipping the “pro”,tries to do the hi-step and promptly falls off.

I’m on belay, but the rope never pulls tight! Johns well placed stopper had blown and Dean is on the ground! Dean is a little shaken up and is moaning some as John helps him to his feet.

Now what are we going to do??????

The Yo-yo is on, I climb up to the spot and install a better stopper and down climb, we both hang on the rope to make sure the stopper will hold……

John ties in, and with a look of desperation on his face he starts up and with just a bit of hesitation, he fires the crux hi-step and cruses to the summit.

We both follow.

The rest of the day, we walked around HVC as proud as new dads because WE were now F10 climbers.

peace to you.
Mark Force

Trad climber
Cave Creek, AZ
Jul 5, 2014 - 09:02am PT
I was only a second (oh,wait, make that third) string player (nah, not really a player, either, but I was there) BITD. Wasn't on JB's radar, but he was amazing to be around. He was all physical energy and power, nerves running high wattage, a fierce consciousness; a mix of d'Artagnan élan, Bruce Lee physicality, and Miles Davis cool. He inspired and then he got on the rock..... He so got that it was, at the core,mall about the essence of it all; it was the art that mattered.

Saw him and Kauk climb the Rostrum pre-cam (~1976?) with binoculars from Reed's. It was masterful.
ron gomez

Trad climber
fallbrook,ca
Jul 5, 2014 - 09:35am PT
Heavy sad heart today, but I feel his spirit. Lots of cool fly overs this morning on my bike ride by hawks. Peace to pa, Little Bachar, The Yerian, Peter, Karine and John Jr today.
Peace
Mark Force

Trad climber
Cave Creek, AZ
Jul 5, 2014 - 04:05pm PT
Here's a pic of JB bouldering in the Buttermilks (~1974?). Got this pic from Bullwinkle. He got it from a guy who used to live on the east side who isn't around anymore. Think Bullwinkle might still be tracking down some originals from that day for printing up.

wayne w

Trad climber
the nw
Jul 5, 2014 - 05:05pm PT
Thinking of JB, and listening to 'A Love Supreme'.
Risk

Mountain climber
Olympia, WA
Jul 5, 2014 - 09:06pm PT
Everyone who is or who becomes a part of our culture will know who he was.

One of the saddest days of the year.
Rollover

climber
Gross Vegas
Jul 5, 2014 - 09:57pm PT
old craghag

Sport climber
Bishop
Jul 16, 2014 - 07:19pm PT
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