|
berkly
Dec 1, 2004, 5:50 PM
Post #26 of 106
(10988 views)
Shortcut
Registered: Dec 29, 2003
Posts: 189
|
One that I recall was about 4 or 5 years ago, I had just gotten my pilots license and wanted to take some friends up in a small cessna 172.
The four of us, three guys and one girl got up to about 3000' and I thought it would be fun to show them what a stall was. Bad mistake.
I set up for a power off stall and as soon as I reduced power and pitched back, that sucker buffeted and dropped like a stone at an airspeed way above normal for a stall. They liked it and wanted to do it again, but I was wide eyed on the brink of panic as I now realized we were grossly overweight. I didnt let them know how bad it was, i just said its time to go back. Lesson learned, check your weight and balance before flying
|
|
|
|
|
gat
Dec 1, 2004, 6:08 PM
Post #27 of 106
(10988 views)
Shortcut
Registered: Oct 3, 2003
Posts: 420
|
When WW kayaking I tried to catch a tricky eddy and missed, as a result I backender'ed and was washed up against the face of a rock that faced upstream. I was being lifted and dropped by the water surging against the rock. Every time it dropped me I hit another rock that was submerged beneath me. I was afraid if I tried to exit the boat I would be pinned somehow betweend the submerged rock and the rock face and I would drown. As a result I figured I was either going to roll out of it, or drown.
I was reasonably skilled, but not experienced enough to know that I could have safely exited. A bow rescue from a partner was out of the question because they were already downstream.
I kept trying to roll out of it but the rock I was against was making it difficult. I was managing to get occasional breaths ("carping" as fellow boaters know it) and just kept trying to roll. Between rolls I was trying to push off the rock underwater with my paddle in hopes that it would wash me downstream or out of the main surge of water that was surging against the rock.
Then I lost my paddle. Luckily, I had practiced hand rolls all winter in an indoor pool and eventually I managed to hand roll out of it. Strangely, once I was upright I just floated right into the calm part of the eddy. This was a loooong time after I flipped. I screamed a battle cry of victory like I have never screamed before. It was a strange feeling of adrenaline mixed with the light-headedness that comes from holding your breath, then taking a quick breath and repeating over and over.
My buddies downstream were almost scared as I was, they said I was under a VERY long time. They couldn't figure out why I hadn't just gave up and done a wet exit. I told them I was afraid of being pinned, so I was going to fight until it was over. It was then that they told me there was no danger of being trapped there and I could of just done a wet exit and I would have washed free.
I remember the calm resolve that hit me when I was sure it was a real "do or die" situation. It's something I'll never forget.
There have been other situations while climbing that were very "interesting". However, it's much more terrifying when you can't see or breathe.
|
|
|
|
|
gat
Dec 1, 2004, 6:10 PM
Post #28 of 106
(10988 views)
Shortcut
Registered: Oct 3, 2003
Posts: 420
|
In reply to: I thought it would be fun to show them what a stall was. Bad mistake.
Nothing like being a piloting student and practicing the power ON stalls solo. Now there's a rush!
|
|
|
|
|
slablizard
Dec 1, 2004, 6:33 PM
Post #29 of 106
(10988 views)
Shortcut
Registered: Oct 13, 2003
Posts: 5558
|
Around 86, I was following a group of alpine guides and friends to a new bolted route on the Gran Sasso there was a short but quite steep snow slope to traverse, I was with my brother and it was the first time I took him mountain climbing. We traversed the slope in sneakers, following the steps of our friends ( they had mountain boots ) a friend of us got stuck in the middle of the slope, he was scared and could not traverse. We tried to throw him a rope from the other side but after many tentatives the rope got wet and we realized we had to go back too.
By that time it was snowing and the fog came up, completely hiding the valley below.
We started the traverse back, but the steps carved by our friends weren't that good anymore. Using hands as tool and carefully stepping with sneakers over now iced snow we start traversing again.
I was more worried for my brother than me, when I felt my right foot slip.
One instant later I was sliding down in the fog picking up speed. I turned on my back and started screaming like there was no tomorrow. I could not see if the slope ended in a scree or in a bottomless gorge.
Fortunately it ended in a rock scree, by that time I was going down fast, still on my back sure that I would die.
When I saw the first rocks I pointed my feet and started running. Well more flying than running and somewhat managed to slow down and stop.
Turning my head uphill I saw a rock that after its last bounce whas aimed right at my face, charged with adrenaline I slammed it down inches from my nose cutting my hand.
Few minutes later I was at the "rifugio" ( shelter, a hig altitude bar-restaurant-hotel ) drinking grappa, glad to be alive.
Our friends were back from the route as well, they had a plastic bag with all the bolts in it. Some trad mountaineer wasn't that happy about that mountain bolted 12a route.
That was scary as hell. I was sure I would end up falling into a crevasse or a gorge while sliding down in the fog.
http://www.gdargaud.net/...sso/Direttissima.jpg
|
|
|
|
|
jpdreamer
Dec 1, 2004, 6:40 PM
Post #30 of 106
(10988 views)
Shortcut
Registered: Dec 14, 2000
Posts: 232
|
This past summer I was in Japan for a two month study abroad. About midway through my host family took me to a goregeous beach with sand and a short cliffline. I took the route of least resistance climbing up the cliffline, in flip flops, and even though the "rock" was this sketchy sand and fossilized wood stuff that you could rub away with your hand, like sandstone that came up before it was ready, I figured I could just downclimb if it got too sketchy. However, 2/3 up (20, 25 feet) I came to a move I knew I could do, but not reverse, and seeing it mellow out after that move I figured there'd be a trail up top. So I climbed it, got up top, took some pictures, and realized there was no trail. Wandered around for a while trying to find a trail, pushing through brambles but couldn't find anything. So then I made the big mistake: I tried to downclimb the cliff. Walked back to the cliffline and started to downclimb, and got to the one moove I wasn't sure how to reverse. I got the only good foot on the thing, a rock embedded (or so it appeared) deeply in the mudstone. I sunk waaaaaay low onto it to try and reach the next flat area, and got one foot there, then the fossilized chip I had been using as a hand broke off and maintained my balance, but barely. Realizing that this move was definately not reversable, I managed to stand up on the one foothold and get back to the flatter ground above. I then bushwacked back around 75 yards and found the trail I had expected at the top and easily made my way down, but trying to reverse that move was the most scared I've evern been on a climb.
Just a note, if the rock had been real, solid sandstone or something the climb would have been 5.6. It was the fact that you could have dug out footholds with a trowel that made it so sketchy.
|
|
|
|
|
climbhoser
Dec 1, 2004, 7:02 PM
Post #31 of 106
(10988 views)
Shortcut
Registered: Sep 4, 2004
Posts: 210
|
One time I was skiing in the Colorado BC with a friend and we scouted a good looking, maybe forty foot cliff into what looked like a chute from below. So, we hiked around on the ridge and sent ourselves into the couloir aiming for the little cliffie to have some fun in the awesome spring pow. When we got to the cliff we realized that what from below had appeared as the side of the chute was actually a cliff split by a snow covered ledge (the ledge being what we thought was the chute). So, It wasn't jumpable, but I wanted to see if the lower portion was so I skirted the upper cliff to go across on the ledge. As I turned the corner onto the ledge a giant slab of snow, probably about three hundred pounds worth, let loose and fell from the lower cliff with a mighty "whump!" Scared, I just kept skiing, straightlining across the ledge, about thirty feet up from certain injury. As I skied, a slab let loose on the ledge, and fell from the ledge taking my downhill ski with me. I managed to keep balance with my uphill ski and brought my downhill ski back to me. As I neared the ledge end at the slope onthe far side of the cliff I cooked and a roaring slab/slough followed me. I just straightlined and outran th epath of the mini avalanche, but damn, I almost died....
|
|
|
|
|
nostalgia
Dec 1, 2004, 7:15 PM
Post #33 of 106
(10988 views)
Shortcut
Registered: Jun 18, 2004
Posts: 793
|
Oh and the scariest thing? My first (and last) drop-in from a 12' vert half-pipe on a skateboard. I think I was 24. I had been practicing skating around the ramp, and starting from the bottom I was able to pump my way up to the coping. I figured I was ready.
I got up to the top, snapped the tail of the board onto the coping, and was terrified. Terrified. I looked around myself hanging off Minty in the 'Gunks at over 100' up, no problem. Looking down the 12' vert wall of this ramp, it was all I could do to hold my bladder. I was shaking, sweating, sure this was a bad idea.
I steeled my mind, and rememeber uttering to a fellow skater, "No guts, no glory." Then I shifted my weight forward and dropped in. This is where I believe I blacked out from the fear. The next thing I remember is looking at the flatbottom of the ramp just before I impacted it with my forehead (helmet on - probably saved my life), elbow and hip. I was like a limp sack of potatoes. I remember dead silence, then someone said, "Oh my God, is he dead?" That's when I started dragging myself off the bottom of the ramp. I couldn't move my legs, yet.
I ended up with no lasting damage. I had torn up my elbow right through the elbow pad. My hip was the worst. I had the biggest, ugliest bruise I have ever seen. I couldn't walk right for weeks. I have a picture of it at home which I'll post up when I get there tonight.
Damn, I still get the sweats when I think about looking over the nose of that board, sticking out over the coping. Jeebus.
-Joe
|
|
|
|
|
wanderinfree
Dec 1, 2004, 7:30 PM
Post #34 of 106
(10988 views)
Shortcut
Registered: Jun 7, 2004
Posts: 476
|
It's a toss up between the head on collision I had last week on I-70 and nthusiastj's morning hair. :twisted:
|
|
|
|
|
sandbag
Dec 1, 2004, 7:38 PM
Post #35 of 106
(10988 views)
Shortcut
Registered: Jan 12, 2003
Posts: 1443
|
Almost getting abducted at age ten by too really scary looking guys in a POS 1969 rusty gold cutlass with a disintegrated vinyl top, i can still see their faces.......nothing has even come close to scaring me that much since(hair on my neck stands up just typing it now 24 years later)
|
|
|
|
|
treyfrancisclimbs
Dec 1, 2004, 7:53 PM
Post #36 of 106
(10988 views)
Shortcut
Registered: May 30, 2004
Posts: 170
|
something that scared me?
hmm...
hitchhiking on acid
new years on 5 hits of acid and a few grams of speed
tripping balls on a tenstrip when the police find acid in my bedroom
i guess it is a good thing i quit doing acid
oh yeah, any time i am driving in mexico, especially mexico city
|
|
|
|
|
ambler
Dec 1, 2004, 8:07 PM
Post #37 of 106
(10988 views)
Shortcut
Registered: Jul 27, 2002
Posts: 1690
|
When I used to climb in Eldorado, sometimes a fat pigeon would fly out in your face just as you climbed up a crack. That was unexpected and frightening. So I've learned to stay out of Colorado and never climb wide cracks.
|
|
|
|
|
jebel_andi
Dec 1, 2004, 8:12 PM
Post #38 of 106
(10988 views)
Shortcut
Registered: May 20, 2003
Posts: 122
|
When I lived in United Arab Emirates I used to spear fish near a desalination plant. I would dive underneath the pipe that sucks water into the factory. I was a bit more then 1/2 a km out and the pipe is about 20 feet deep (low tide) when I dived under it looking for fish. I didn't see anything big enough so I thought I would swim all the way under it and come up the other side, I thought I had swum completely under it and started to head upwards but I wasn't completely on the otherside so I hit the pipe when I swam up causing me to exhale a bit of air. I got freaked out and tried to swim the other way out but the pipe was still above me. It turns out I was facing the wrong way to I was swimming the legth of the pipe I finaly turned left and swam up. As soon as I was at the surface I headed in, I don't dive under stuff when there is bad visability any more. Scariest two minuets of my life. :cry:
When ever jet skiers were near it was scary to, a women was killed in Abu Dhabi by a jet skier when she was training for a triathalon (I hate jet skiers)
|
|
|
|
|
katanaman
Dec 1, 2004, 8:16 PM
Post #39 of 106
(10988 views)
Shortcut
Registered: Mar 31, 2004
Posts: 143
|
not super scary (could have been worse) but ive been lucky enough not to run into too many bad situations, i was flying in cessna 172 round peggys cove area and i was bored (supposed to be training on forced landings) and did some retarded moves that cessna just can't do, the fuel is gravity fed. I ended looking at the sky, engine completely cut out, and falling to the ground! Dropped about 2000 feet with absoultly no control until luckily plane rolled enough for me to level off and pull out of spiral/spin. Now i had no engine, but after many attempts to restard while plummeting and looking for ideal crash/landing spot it turned back on. Luckily i didn't have to radio maybe and no rescue team had been assembled, i found it ironic that while i was supposed to be training for forced landing i almost had one. Tip: don't be stupid and try to invert gravity fed planes:P
|
|
|
|
|
amber
Dec 1, 2004, 8:26 PM
Post #40 of 106
(10988 views)
Shortcut
Registered: Oct 15, 2004
Posts: 708
|
finding myself at the end of a misfigured rappel, 500' off the deck.
|
|
|
|
|
sandbag
Dec 2, 2004, 12:38 AM
Post #42 of 106
(10988 views)
Shortcut
Registered: Jan 12, 2003
Posts: 1443
|
nice bruise, my torn hamstrings looked worse than that, id rather have the bruise
|
|
|
|
|
amber
Dec 2, 2004, 1:04 AM
Post #43 of 106
(10988 views)
Shortcut
Registered: Oct 15, 2004
Posts: 708
|
another big scare factor - a serial rapist was actively attacking women in my neighborhood (within a few blocks of my place) a couple of years ago, and i fit the profile *exactly*
|
|
|
|
|
khenderson
Dec 2, 2004, 7:22 AM
Post #44 of 106
(10988 views)
Shortcut
Registered: Nov 10, 2004
Posts: 18
|
i was running about 75 on the highway in my jeep when the back end kicked out and i spun around 2 times, hit a guardrail with the back end, and ended up across on the other side while semi's where running up hard on me. i still can't drive faster than about 55 on the highway while raining.....and that was two years ago
|
|
|
|
|
climber15
Dec 2, 2004, 8:43 AM
Post #45 of 106
(10988 views)
Shortcut
Registered: Apr 30, 2004
Posts: 39
|
When I was 13 my dad and my sister and I went out fishing on the upper Kenai River In Alaska. After the river trip we had to cross Skilak lake which was about 6 miles to the take out. We were in a drift boat, and we had a cheap imported Ugaslavian engine that we had bought ten years before, that we straped on the back of the boat. WE had done the trip 4 or 5 times before with my dad and I, but this time the weather turned bad, and things went wrong. When we got to the lake, the swells were only two feet or so, and the glaciated wind was starting to build. We got the engine organized, and started putting off into the lake. We were about a quarter of the way across when things really picked up. Icy grey water began splashing over the gunwalls of our 14 foot aluminum drift boat, and you could hear every time we wnet over a wave as the propeller spun helplessly out of the water and dove back in a gain. By the time we got to the middle of the open section, the waves had picked up to 6 feet from tip to trough. I looked over at my sister and the terrified look on her face was one ill never forget. I looked back and my dad, and said "dad I love you, thank you for all youve done for us" and held on.
The waves kept comming, and the sickening pounding of the boat as it soared up and over each wave and came smashing down on the next was sickening. Dad had kept complete concentration during the whole time, and as we rounded the point were the open water ceased, we could see the sun and clam water in front, and the writhing dark turmiol behind us. I wont ever forget how scary that was, and the lesson learned was to keep cool and focussed, no matter how close death may be.
|
|
|
|
|
coldclimb
Dec 2, 2004, 9:38 AM
Post #46 of 106
(10988 views)
Shortcut
Registered: Jan 14, 2002
Posts: 6909
|
This thread is quite the interesting read. I see now that I should elaborate on my other post.
My scariest moment ever, I wason the third pitch of a new route, above the V of a single crack that split into two and had one hand in either arm. The route has never been climbed to our knowledge, and was coated in fuzzy lichen, making it incredibly hard to climb. Fifty feet below me was a low angle slab, and between me and that slab were two nuts placed where I could dig the moss out of the crack. You do the math. I managed to place another nut where I was and move up a few steps to where the left hand crack vanished, and things looked seriously bad. I nearly fell slipping back down to a semi-good position, fighting the slipping lichen constantly with no friction anywhere, checked my nut as best as I could, and lowered off that single iffy piece, half downclimbing half sliding, and rubbing lichen off the whole way. Got to the base of the crack and all I wanted was to be somewhere else. I tried whipping the nut out, but it wouldn't let go, which was some relief, but when I came back a week later and rapped down to it, it was loose and came right out. This is the most scared I can ever recall being. I could taste it strong. If I had fallen there, I'd have been seriously injured at the least, and it was miles to the nearest road.
So of course I have to go back next year and finish that route! :twisted:
On another note, I was involved in a car accident a few weeks ago. We stopped to help at a rollover at midnight, and parked our truck on the shoulder to tow the SUV back onto its wheels. I was kneeling behind the truck attaching the trailer hitch when the guy driving me (John) and the SUV driver (Patrick) started getting nervous about a car coming around the corner. Then John yelled "Oh no... Oh no... Oh no!" and then, thinking of his wife in the truck, "Get out!" All three of us dove for the ditch as a car slammed full speed into the front left tire of the truck, spun around, and flew into the ditch right at us. From the time I jumped up till I dove into the snow was maybe a little over a second. I recall turning my head in mid-dive and seeing the lights of the car spin around, and then it brushed my leg out of the way, and slammed John and Patrick against the bottom of the SUV. Patrick was able to pull his leg out of the snow. John has one leg in a cast (fractured bone in his ankle) and the other in a brace (severely dislocated knee) which is far better off than the paramedics figured. His wife, who was in the passenger seat of the truck when she saw the car coming, had gotten nervous and started to crawl across to get out the driver's side door when something told her "Just sit back, buckle your seatbelt, and everything will be fine." She did, and the car slammed the truck right at the driver's side door going well over 60mph. Knocked a loaded down F250 back 30 feet, but she was fine. The driver of the car also made it out ok.
This was an intense situation, and close calls don't get any closer, but it happened way too fast to be afraid, which is why I didn't post it first. I never had the chance to think, I just acted. Waiting 45 minutes for the rescue vehicle with John smashed between two vehicles, I felt no fear either. Just mechanically did what I could to help the situation.
Makes you think though. Just another second and I'd have died before I knew what hit me. Are you ready to die? It really does happen that fast. I thank God for getting us out of that one alive. The officer that showed up said he fully expected to find someone dead, with the description he got and what the scene looked like when he arrived.
Nasty situation all around. I never thought I would have a use for the flashing setting on my headlamp - in fact I made fun of it - but now I see what it's there for. I was glad to have it. That and a chunk of my slackline to tie the door back on the truck, and my North Face jackets and Helly shell as we stood around in the cold all night.
|
|
|
|
|
cgailey
Dec 2, 2004, 10:08 AM
Post #47 of 106
(10988 views)
Shortcut
Registered: Apr 6, 2004
Posts: 585
|
In reply to: Only thing that has ever scared me enough to remember was being sketched while unprotected with huge exposure on unclimbed rock covered in lichen. There's a few things (like my first time highlining) that have weirded me out to the point that I couldn't do them, but I can't call that fear, exactly. More like my mind just froze up and stopped me, though I consciously felt comfortable doing it. I was definitely afraid of falling on that climb though. So strong I could taste it for a long while after I got off. That one leaves a memory I'm not likely to ever forget.
Yeah, he was so freaked out that he got whitefaced just rapping down to the spot...I would have too with that exposure...
I was most scared when my buddy took a whipper with the rope behind his leg...he almost whacked his head...I was yelling at him to step around the rope and next thing I know he's falling nearly upside down. That freaked me out.
|
|
|
|
|
slcliffdiver
Dec 2, 2004, 3:48 PM
Post #48 of 106
(10988 views)
Shortcut
Registered: Mar 18, 2002
Posts: 489
|
This was going to go in the stupid things you did climbing thread but didn't have the time. When I first started trad I was a bit isolated without strong mentors. I had heard that multi-pitch was for experienced climbers only. Unfortunately the only guide books I knew of at the time for "lead areas" were multi-pitch. Through camping hiking and my first lead climb with someone in retrospect with probably less experience and sanity than I assumed at the time in an undocumented area I knew of some cliffs to try. What it comes down to is most of my begging leading was either first ascents or stuff that was either undocumented or I didn't have any documentation for. Not unsurprisingly several times through a lack of experience, rock quality and general stupidity in one way or another I found my self over my head faced with certian injury or death at the edge of my ability and periodicaly dependent on a hold appearing where I would need it or a hold not breaking that was iffy. Two of the many things that kept this cycle going where "young man denial" (realizing in the moment I could have died and the next day minimizing and forgetting about it to a great extent) and my perspective that since multi-pitch is supposed to be a lot harder than single pitch that I was just being a baby about it and I wasn't ready for "the big rock" since the "little stuff" scarred me this much (in the moment). I didn't really hit me overall how many close calls I had and how serious they really were until I did my first established multi-pitch. I wasn't pulling of "holds", occasional tree's, the pro was generally good and I could be pretty damn sure that the route was within my ability. I had "reasoned" before that since the experienced climbers that I had talked to talked me out of multi-pitch before and since a lot of people did multi-pitch which was supposed to be way harder than single pitch and weren't dropping like fly's that I was just being chicken and was overblowing the close calls I had in my head. Now that I had done estiblished climbs with a guide book I understood in my heart why climbers weren't dying at massive rates and realized just how friggin lucky I had really been on a lot of what I had done before. Anyway for the first time I was flooded with how much peril I really had been in do to combining inexperience, addiction, denial, isolation and faith in my own noobish logic. It seems most people's multi-pitch is a glorious experience. For me at the end of the day I just felt utterly stupid, embarressed and lucky to be alive and unscathed from many of my previous climbs. I've had other scary experiences but the flood of realizing just how poor my judgement and perspective had been really shook me. The danger in large part hadn't been external it had been do to many flaws in the way I looked at things and made decscions. The good thing is I think I grew up a lot from the realization and made a lot of changes. But realizing in a short span of time how much my previous attitude and the way of thinking put me in peril scarred me on a whole different level.
I may end up deleting this part if it's considered to of topic but to me it relates. In general I consider it almost miraculous I survived my teens and early twenties without at the very least with permanent disabilities, climbing was by far not the only thing that I'ved close calls with. I was meditating on a mountian once and this woman came up to me and told me I had a powerful gaurdian angel. I told her she had no idea. How often can you flip a coin 10-20 times and have it come out heads? The probabilty of me being here able to type this seems a bit absurd. The existance of some entity or something looking after my well being seems to me more likely than chance letting me exist today. While for the most part my close calls are embarressing to me surviving them has shaped my faith and my perspective to a good extent.
|
|
|
|
|
apieceinbozeman
Dec 3, 2004, 4:03 AM
Post #49 of 106
(10988 views)
Shortcut
Registered: Apr 1, 2004
Posts: 14
|
Ahh...I can recall the incident as if it happened not a week ago. It was the '60s; following my escape from the East and the heinous southwestern Montana FA that undoubtedly defined me as a hardman, I made my way to Yosemite Valley in hopes of sending a sick route on one of the big walls. Upon arriving in the Valley, I decided that a partner would be most beneficial, even though I normally climb alone (due to the fact that I have applied THE KNIFE! to most aspects of my life). Climbing in the Valley would be different, however, for I had used the majority of my gear to ascend the brutally intense aforementioned crack line. Becuase of this, my remaining rack was comprised of some shoddy 2x4's, which didn't bode well for my aspirations. I began to cruise around Camp 4 in search of some poor sap to come belay me on one of the walls- it was during this venture that I happened across DON! DON was a fellow hardman who happened to be from Montana as well, and we immediately took a liking to each other's personality and motivations. Upon establishing a common bond, I proposed that we send El Cap the following day. DON was quite pleased with this suggestion, but made it clear that he would accompany me provided I adhere one condition- I had to bring along an adequate supply of snacks in order to keep DON satisfied on the climb. He claimed that he "loved to eat snacks in the mountains." Although I found this somewhat quirky, my respect for DON overpowered the odd and repulsive nature of his request; I obliged, and by the following morning, DON and I set off for what was to be the greatest adventure of all time! We reached the base of the wall shortly after sunrise, and DON (after inhaling four or five snacks) begged for the first pitch lead. I surrendered it to him, and off he went. The climbing fell to our natural ability for the first couple pitches, but then required copious amounts of aid in order to ascend further. This didn't slow us down, however, for DON had the healthiest rack I had ever seen- state of the art gear, straight from Yvon himself! DON had claimed to be a good buddy of the talented ironsmith, and made it clear that the rack was a generous gift from Yvon. Although I had my doubts, I wanted to exercise my ability as a hardman and send sick routes, so further questioning as to the validity of DON's acquisition of the gear remained on the backburner. This, however, proved to be a mistake, and the consequences manifested themselves on the 67th pitch. I was on lead, nailing up a magnificent pitch of A6, when from below I heard DON utter a low groan resembling that of a dying cow. I glanced down, and witnessed a terrified look on DON's face. "DON! What the hell's goin on, man?" I asked. DON replied with a series of mutters, and he kept glancing nervously down towards the ground. I then diverted my gaze past DON's position at the belay, and noticed a tiny figure steadily ascending towards us with a determined and angry look on his face. Who was this crazy fool, and why was he soloing the second ascent of our sick new route? As the figure ascended closer, I started to recognize him as none other than Yvon himself! "DON!" I shouted, "It's Yvon! He's fuckin sending, man!" DON looked mortified, but I couldn't understand why. Then it hit me- DON had stolen Yvon's entire rack, and now the Initiator of Iron was about to have his way with us halfway up the sickest wall in the world! Suddenly things weren't looking so good. I confirmed with DON, and he affirmed my assumption. By now, Yvon was one pitch below DON, and we could hear him screaming at the top of his lungs as he sent the 5.13 roof in fine style. Not one to be slowed down, he dispensed with the remainder of the pitch, and promptly arrived at DON's location. At this point, Yvon unloaded on DON by beating him silly (with one of my 2x4's) and regaining as much of his gear as possible at the belay. With DON out of the way, Yvon's attention was now focused on the bulk of his rack (and livelihood) which was situated on the sling around my shoulder. He dug in his rucksack and produced two ascenders, then began to ascend the lead rope by employing the counterweight the I created by hanging off the dubious pin hammered into a flaring scar. He soon reached my position on the rock and demanded that I return his rack. I replied that under normal circumstances it would not be a problem, but considering our situation, I begged Yvon to allow me to continue on with his rack in order to send my sick new route. Yvon would not hear anything of this, and forcibly took the rack from my shoulders, upon which he continued to free solo the daunting piece of rock above him. Within minutes, he was gone, and so were my chances of sending the sick new line. I tried to rouse DON from his comatose state at the belay, but it was of no avail. It occured to me at that point that I may die up on the sick wall. My partner and rack had both been taken from me, and without these two aspects of ascent, I was as good as dead. Apparently my hardman training in the mountains of Montana was not enough. This turn of events terrified me, and I soon began to pray for my life. Soon after this began, I heard a voice from below- it was...ED! (ED was a former partner of mine who ascended the ranks of alpinism and eventually ended up inventing the French Grading system) "ED!" I yelled as loud as I could, effectively catching his attention. Even though he was hundreds of feet away from me, I could still make out his intense facial features and sideburns shaved in the shape of ice picks. ED's inherent natural ability allowed him to climb over to me and rescue my sorry ass off of the sick wall...my life is forever indebted to ED and his will to survive. ED and I ended up finishing my sick route, and we named it "Snacks in the Mountains," after our beloved friend DON. So believe it or not, this was the most terrifying thing to ever happen to me, although DON (who still lurks on certain internet ice climbing forums) would argue that our epic on Nanga Parbat's Rupal Face was far more exhilerating...this, however, is not the time nor the place for that story. CLIMB ON! :robert:
|
|
|
|
|
sabu
Dec 4, 2004, 1:06 AM
Post #50 of 106
(10988 views)
Shortcut
Registered: Aug 14, 2004
Posts: 51
|
ok scariest mistake i've made was missing a crutial bolt whilst leading the small roof on our 7m wall at skool. made worst cos i was lunging for a hold on the lip. hanging by one arm wit no feet off a jug on the lip i realized the amount of slack rope and how far the last bolt was!! that must have been the fastest clip i have ever done!! had i have fall i would have hit the ground or swung straight into the wall. the last clipped bolt was on the face under the roof the bolt i missed was on the roof and i was on the lip!! a very painful fall had i have missed the lunge!!
|
|
|
|
|
|
