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epic_ed
Jul 30, 2003, 12:03 AM
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Registered: Jun 17, 2002
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The much anticipate (*snicker*), long awaited (*chuckle*) second half of Epic Ed’s Yosemite adventure. Get comfortable, grab the no-doze, and double up on the adult refreshments. It’s gonna be another long one (no, seriously -- it's LONG).
So we bailed off the Prow first attempt. No big deal. I still had ten more days to accomplish something worthwhile and a solo of Zodiac was my big goal, anyway. I decided all of my effort and attention would go toward making it happen and started with a reconnaissance hike up on Friday. Even if you’re not planning to climb anything on El Cap, if you have the time, hike up to the base of that big hunk of granite and bank right at the Nose. The hike along the southeast face of El Cap defies description and is just awe inspiring. You get an unimpeded view of some of the most classic routes on the Cap’n and it’s just blows you away every time you look up. Unlike the southwest face, when you crane your neck back you get a clear, sweeping view of nearly every route from the bottom to the top. I stumbled several times just gawking.
I ran into Eurobiner (Kevin) and Grippedclimber (Jason) in the tree covered area near Tangerine Trip. They were fixing pitches on Iron Hawk and I’d see them several more times during the coming week. Just past the Trip I ran into Pete at the start of Lost in America. He was just a couple of pieces off the deck and we chatted briefly about his Russian aiders – gotta get a set of those (RUSS!! Damn it, Russ! When will those things be ready?!). A couple of minutes further up the trail placed me squarely at the base of Zodiac and I was happy to see no one waiting to start the route. In fact, there wasn’t anyone within shouting distance. One party was well up the route – possibly around P11. I hung out a few, made mental notes about the length of approach, noted some concerns about gear for the first pitch, and just kind of soaked in the scope of the project I was about to tackle. As I was getting ready to head back down, another guy came up with some gear. I was happy to learn he was only doing the first two pitches for solo practice, so the route would be all mine if I got there early enough the next morning.
Of course, I didn’t. For whatever reason, I didn’t get to the base of the route until around 10am and I was surprised that there was still no one around. In fact, it was kind of lonely down at that end of the wall with absolutely no one around on any route in the vicinity. Pete was the closest and he was about three pitches up LA. Nothing but me, my gear, and the enormity of the task in front of me. I had my anchor set up quickly, ate some lunch, and racked gear for the first pitch. Technically, P1 is supposed to be one of the harder pitches on the route so stepping up on that first bat hook hole had me wondering how tough was it going to be. Ahead were several bolts and rivets – some with hangers, some without. A cinch-hanger on the last rivet was kind of thin, followed by a HB brass offset, followed by a cam hook at the start of the crack. Then the piton scars began. With regular cams and cam hooks, this section to the top of P1 would definitely be C3. Thank God for Hybrid Aliens! I was able to move up most of the pitch by using, then back cleaning bomber Hybrid placements and it felt pretty C1 to me. There were a couple of moves where I needed the same sized Hybrid as the one I was standing on. I used a cam hook for those moves, but only needed it twice. A couple of fixed pins and one VERY stuck cam helped protect the pitch and there were enough places for solid pro that I never got too run out between pieces. I pretty much just leap-frogged the blue/green and green/yellow Hybrids all the way to the anchor.
As simple as it sounds in retrospect, I still took forever to lead the pitch. Something like 2.5 hours. Doesn’t matter if it’s C1 or A4, it all feels the same to me. I don’t trust anything, bomber bolts feel like they could blow at any second (in my mind), and I’m always checking my set up as I go to make sure I didn’t fukk something up, or cross something over, or otherwise set myself up for a disaster. Guess those are the penalties of inexperience and it translates to very slow progress. I cleaned the route quickly and decided to call it a day. It was time to go back to camp, grab some grub, pack the rest of my gear, and get ready to tear down camp AGAIN. Just as I was getting ready to rappel, I heard a rustling down below me. Something sounded like it was rooting through my backpack, but there hadn’t been any climbers in my area all day. I looked down, and there’s a BEAR tearing into my stuff! It looked just like the one in Karl’s TR from the Zodiac last year. So, what do you do when you’re hanging 100 ft above a bear that’s rooting through your gear looking for food? I shouted at him; he looked up at me quizzically like “wadda you gonna do about it,” and went right back to rummaging. I rappelled about ½ way down, shouted a bit louder and more intimidating, and flicked my rope at him. Guess the BEEOTCH knew I meant bidness and the fury bastard turned tail and headed over toward the Trip. Yeah – I showed him. No idea what I would have done if he decided to stay. Fortunately the contents of my backpack were less interesting than he expected and I had all my food with me up on the wall. Funny thing – a few minutes later I hear shouts coming from down in the woods. Eurobiner and Grippedclimber were getting ready to haul their stuff from the ground as the bear approached. Kevin was on the ground and managed to ward him off while Jason hauled like a mad man to get the pigs out of swiping range. Funny stuff, those bears…
Friday was our last night in Upper Pines, Ken was heading back to Phoenix the next day, and Jeff and I needed to sort gear to determine what stuff we wouldn’t want for the rest of the week and could send back home with him. Saturday was pretty much a waste for me. By the time we had Ken’s Jeep packed and on the road, it was time to break down camp and vacate. We were expecting to meet up later in the day with some friends from Phoenix who had flow in. A couple of RC.com’ers were also back in the Valley, and Jeff’s plan was to hook up with Smithclimber (Wes) and Holdplease2 (Kate) for a day of cragging. Eventually, I hiked back up to the base of Zodiac and carried in some more water. All I needed to drag up there now was the food bucket, ledge, and bivy gear. Even though it was getting late in the afternoon, I decided to jug the ropes and lead P2. Jugging 100 ft. of free hanging rope with the entire rack sucked a**. I should have tagged and hauled it up, but instead I got worked and arrived at the anchor less than motivated. I had just re-set the anchor for direction of pull for the next lead when my radio crackled with a shout out from Matt and Rita who had just arrived and were driving past the meadow. It only took a brief conversation to convince me to come down to join them for dinner, and it turns out Jeff had made reservations for the Mountain Room at 6:30. So much for upward progress.
The next day began with the familiar theme of “late” and I hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before due to a little incident with a key that wouldn’t unlock our damn cabin. We had reserved a tent cabin in Curry, again for only one night, so that meant packing up and relocating Sunday morning. Throw in a trip to the Mountain shop to buy a static rope, and I didn’t arrive at the base until near 10:30am. I was a little concerned that a couple of schmucks would arrive before me and bogart the route. Sure enough, I arrived to find a couple of people at the base of the route. They didn’t appear to be interested in climbing, and instead had some video cameras and photography equipment. As I got closer I realized that they weren’t conversing in English, but sounded more like Germa…oh, wait a minute! They’re filming the freakin Hubers!! Alex and Thomas were at the start of P3 when I arrived. I dropped my pack, grabbed my harness and watched them in amazement as I put it on. Now, granted, I have a Yates Bigwall harness that requires a swami-type tie-in, but by the time I had finished putting on my harness, they were done with P3. I realized the significance of what I was witnessing and just kind of sat back and watched for a while. They became difficult to follow some where around P6 and the camera crew took off for the Meadow. I returned to focus on the task at hand and would find out later that the Hubers knocked off Zodiac in an unbelievable 2:32. They were done with the route before I even started jugging my fixed line.
Amazingly, there was still nobody at the base except me, but my luck didn’t hold out long. A couple of guys from the Bay area showed up just as I was starting to jug back up to the top of P1. Knowing how slowly I move, and aware that I still had plenty of time, we negotiated for them to pass me at the top of P2. Both were good guys and seemed competent enough to pull it off without a hassle. While I lead up P2, they lead up P1 and we decided I would let them jug my tag line once I had it fixed at the top of P2. That way they could completely by-pass P2 and get in front of me.
P2 starts out a very nice 30 foot roof traverse to the right. Gear was bomber for me the entire way across mixed in with a couple of fixed pins, and I turned the roof quickly. Just over the roof a few bolts (one with no hanger) and rivets get you to the “5.7 or C2” ledge which you need to traverse back to the left. Looking at it from the topo, my plan was certainly to C2 this part. I suppose you can, but both options really suck. The ledge is narrow and broken and butts up against a bulging, blank rock face. The only place for pro is on the broken ledge – where your feet would be if you were going to free it. I had to do a few aid moves to get to a wider section of the ledge and it was very awkward. My first attempt to mantle up and stand on the ledge sent me back down to my aiders – I’m too damn big to stand up on that ledge because the wall above pushes you out. A couple of more frustrating aid moves and I tried again, this time successfully with all the clusterf*ck and fun you can expect to have when stepping out of your aiders on to a sloping, steep ledge in hiking boots. Of course, I hadn’t fed out quite enough slack on my gri gri to get to the next crack system that marked the return to the promised land of easy aid climbing and I had to do the “gripped shuffle” with one hand in order to feed out enough rope to allow me to continue. A couple more moves got me to the crack and I managed to plug in a cam to get me back into aid mode. The rest of the pitch was similar to P1. Piton scars plugged with my shuffling Hybrid Aliens. This section was more difficult to protect. I could keep leap-frogging the Hybrids, but there wasn’t much else I could leave behind that I trusted as solid. I managed to leave a decent cam and a stopper and then clipped a fixed nut. A couple of more moves got me to the belay without incident.
I pulled up the slack in both lines, but not all the way since in order to get back to my previous anchor I’d have to rappel lower that the P1 anchor and then jug back up and diagonal to get to it. The guys behind me were done with P1 and ready to jug my tag line as soon as it was fixed. While their first climber ascended, I rappelled and was thankful to be able to clean all of the pitch above the roof on the way down. It was getting kind of late and I looking forward to calling it a day after I had finished cleaning the pitch. Since it’s ~200 ft from the P2 anchors to the ground, and I was using a 65M rope, I knew that all I had to do was clean the roof and rappel back to the ground to call it a day. Both guys were now above me and in the process of hauling their pig as I lowered off the last fixed pin under the roof and swung freely in the air 15 feet out and away from the wall. With all the gear on me and because I was free-hanging, it was difficult to turn my head to see below me. I wanted to make sure that I wasn’t tangled up in the haul ropes of the party that was passing, and I was able to see enough that it looked snag-free. With the pitch in the bag, I was eager to get back to camp in time for another decent meal at the Deli. Since I use the ascender/gri gri set up to clean a pitch, all I needed to do was pop my upper ascender off the rope, pull back on the handle of the gri gri, and start my rappel. I had just commented to the guys above me about how amazing it is to solo a route because it really forces you to keep your head in the game the entire time you’re climbing when I realized I was starting to pick up speed. No big deal. The quicker I get to the deck the better. I don’t know exactly why, but I think I sensed something just wasn’t right. I was moving quickly – like, I’m-getting-to-the-end-of-the-rope quickly, and in an instant I let go of the handle of my gri gri.
It took a second for what I saw next to sink in, but next time you thread your gri gri, place your hand up against the gri gri on the end that the rope is getting pulled through, wrap it around the rope, and then pull the rope until the end is just sticking out past the end of your clenched fist. Now remove your hand. That’s how much rope I had between me and a terminal episode of free-solo rappelling. Less than four inches. Had I let go of the handle a split second later – gone. Had I been using anything thinner than a brand new, fat 11mm rope – gone. Had I been using an ATC – not a chance in hell I would have been able to lock off on that stub of rope. No chance. I didn’t see the end of the rope coming. I was at lest 60, maybe as much as 80 ft off the ground and with the talus on the deck, I have no doubt that the fall would have been fatal.
After several successive desperate shouts of “ohFukk,ohFukk,ohFukk!” I reached back, grabbed an ascender, and slapped it on the rope high above my gri gri. I quickly clipped my aiders in to the ascender and started back up the rope. I must have tied in a knot every five feet on the way back up, including tying a knot in the end of my rope and attaching it to my harness. I eventually arrived at the P2 anchor and took stock of the situation.
So what the fukk happened? Why was I 60 ft off the deck and at the end of my fukking rope?!?! It’s pretty easy to recognize why. When I arrived at the P2 anchors, I pulled up the ropes like I would do if I were planning to continue up the next pitch. So I didn’t have a full 215 ft of rope to take me to the ground. I only had the length of rope that ran between the P1 and P2 anchors. The more complicated question is why I didn’t recognize that. Let’s throw the obvious reasons out there first. One, I’m a fukking idiot. It doesn’t help matters to have one foot in the bucket right from the start, but those are the cards I’ve been dealt. Secondly, I had it in my mind the entire day that one rope length gets me from the P2 anchors to the ground. Third, I had cleaned the top of the pitch on rappel and as I did so, I falsely got it in my head that all I needed to do was clean the roof and then rap to the ground. It’s only 200 ft, right? The fact that I was going to the ground instead of continuing to ascend also played a part. If I had been another two or three pitches up, going to the ground never would have been part of the plan and I would have been ascending the rope to the next anchor regardless of how much I had cleaned on rappel. Why didn’t I see the end of my rope coming up? Keep in mind, I was free-hanging and wasn’t able to check over my shoulder very easily to see where the rope was going. With all the gear hanging from me it was difficult to get a view directly below. Other factors – I was tired and it was the end of the day. Despite my comment moments before about how soloing forces you to keep your head in the game the entire climb, when I lowered off that last pin I checked out mentally. In my mind, I was done for the day and I completely dropped my defenses.
In retrospect there are only a couple of things that saved my ass. Divine intervention was certainly a part of it. The only thing I can point to on my behalf that saved me was the experience I have had rappelling. I’ve rappelled enough to recognize that zippy sensation you get as the weight of the rope creates less and less resistance on the rappel device the closer you get to the end of the rope. It just felt wrong to be going that fast that distance off the ground. I am extremely lucky. Emphasis on extremely. And lucky.
Understandably, I took the next day off to clean my soiled underwear and to evaluate just how much I want to go back up. I also needed to determine if I could move fast enough to summit even if I did want to get back on the route. So far, two days of climbing had me at the top of P2 with 14 to go and five days left to climb. The technical cruxes weren’t stopping me, but my overall slowness would have to cease in order for me to have a chance. And once again I was faced with logistical questions: should I drag my ledge, bivy gear, and food up and just go for it? Or should I head back up quickly the next morning and climb with the gear I had up there and just see how far I could get in one day? I decided there was no point to bringing up the bivy gear and food if I didn’t think I could finish the route, so Tuesday morning I headed back up to see how far I could get in one day. If I was fast enough and climbing efficiently, I should be able to make it to the top of P4 and fix P5. And if I could make that goal, then I would come back up the next day with all my stuff and launch. Sounded like a good plan at the time, but it turned out to be a poor choice.
I arrived early enough. Rigged my Atom Smasher for hauling and set out to jug to the top of P2. Two-hundred feet of jugging a free-hanging rope sucks. I should have remembered that from last years climb on the Tower, but time seems to dull the pain and the memories. I made reasonable progress and was at the anchor in about 30 minutes. With still no one in sight, I figured that it was important for me to work out the details of my hauling system since we had gotten spanked on the Prow (see previous TR) when trying to hoist a heavy load. I can post details later in the aid forum if anyone’s interested, but I worked out a very nice 3:1 using the same gear I had for the hauling ratchet. Very efficient and easy to set up and there’s no way I was going to get hosed doing a 1:1 with the load I planned on hauling. The learning curve took some time, but I was leading out on P3 by 10:00a. It starts out with some decent cam placements up a 30 ft crack, again in pin scars, and then to a long line of fixed gear. The rest of the pitch consists of mostly good rivets on a nearly blank 100 ft section, mixed in with an occasional hook move or a copperhead. The climbing was straight-forward and I enjoyed the consistent upward movement. A tricky bump through a small overhang with my smallest cam hook and I was at the belay. Noting the time, I was happy to see I had been quicker than the previous efforts, but was still slow. P3 clean easily and I swapped out my boots for my climbing shoes to start P4. The topo indicates a 40 ft ramp of 5.6, but it felt easier than that – and I’m no free climbing stud, especially not when soloing while feeding out rope from my gri gri with one hand. I got lucky and always feed out enough slack to make it to the next stance. With so little pro and so much slack out in this section, it would have made for an interesting ride if I had pitched. I sunk a couple of cams in at the beginning of the crack and finished off P4 without any spectacular difficulties. Again, I was moving faster, but not fast enough to complete P5 with any daylight left.
So there I am at the crossroads. I had put in a good effort for the day, but I was really baked. I had to rappel back to the ground since I hadn’t been doing any hauling and my bivy gear was still back at camp. It’s 60M to the intermediate anchors on Shortest Straw, and then one more rope back to the ground. I had to make the decision right there if was going to come back the next day to jug and haul 400 feet just to get back to my high point, or if I was going to bail and call it good. Once again, I screwed up the logistics. If I had all of my gear, I would be in good position to just continue up. Instead, I had set myself up to do a lot of unnecessary work to return to my high point.
I cleaned P4 and bailed. No rappelling epic this time around, and I finished shortly after dark. The walk down was both a relief and a disappointment. I was thoroughly tired and realized how much effort I had put into trying to make this solo happen. From all pre-trip planning to the last rappel, it was part of my every waking moment for nearly six months. Despite the effort, I really hadn’t used my energy very well and that ended up costing me. It’s amazing how the little unplanned details can throw you off, and I really didn’t anticipate some of the obstacles. How is it that I didn’t just drag my crap up there and climb the thing? I’m sure that my fear and reservations played into some of the decisions I made, and maybe on a less conscious level I was setting myself up to fail. Regardless, as with the Prow, I didn’t have the effort in me this time around. But I did learn a lot. And I will be back.
Since I had bailed on Tuesday, that left me with several days to try to piece something meaningful together out of this trip. I went cragging at the Church Bowl area Wednesday, and felt good enough that I got this insane idea that I thought I could pull off a quick solo of the Prow! Seriously! So, I packed up Wednesday night, hiked in ALL my gear Thursday morning – food, water, ledge, rack, bivy stuff – the whole mess, with the intention of giving it one more “last, best” effort. My motivation lasted about ½ way up the approach. Despite feeling rested and energetic that morning, with that much gear I quickly felt the burden of nearly two weeks of climbing and lugging gear around. I got racked up and climbing by 10:30a, but I was just completely out of gas. Every move was an effort. I completed P1, cleaned it, and rapped back to the ground. A familiar theme. That day was just another example of a lot of effort put in for minimal climbing. I’m certain I logged more miles taking my gear for a walk than I actually spent climbing during those two weeks.
I topped of my streak of unsuccessful summit bids by teaming up with Smithclimber and a couple of my friends to do Nutcracker. Crowds were thick, and we spent nearly three hours at the top of the beautiful ledge at the beginning of P3. For reasons not worth explaining we ended up bailing after our long wait. Good. At least I’m consistent. I really didn’t want to break my streak anyway. The rest of the climb looked stellar. Maybe some day…
My last day in the Valley was spent back over at El Cap. Again, I put in a lot of hiking for a little bit of climbing. I wanted to do one more solo pitch before taking off, so I headed up to the first pitch of Cosmos. An uneventful couple of hours later, and I was headed back down the hill content that I’d at least made the most out of my time in Yosemite knowing I had climbed up until it was time to go home. A rather empty victory.
So I didn’t achieve any goals that I had set out to accomplish for this trip. Not one. It certainly wasn’t a total loss. I gained a lot of experience, got in quite a few solo aid pitches under my belt, and didn’t die in the process (came pretty damn close, though). I also had a great time. Ammon and Gabe McNeely were just a couple of sites over from us in Camp 4 and, dude, gotta tell ya – those guys are some good, old fashioned, down-to-earth good guys. A quick conversation with them really speaks volumes about their attitude and how much they enjoy doing what they do. Meeting Ammon, Gabe, Catra, Beth, and Austin was one of the highlights of my trip. Thanks for the hospitality, guys.
I also met a few other RC.com’ers. I first ran into good ol’ Copperhead at the base of Z-M on one of my return trips to Zodiac. As I came out of the woods there was some dude pounding away with a hammer at the start of Z-M and it looked like he was drilling a bolt! Believe it or not, the first thought that occurred to me was “damn, wait until Bryan hears about this”. Turns out, it WAS Copperhead! But he wasn’t adding a bolt, and instead was pulling some of the starting bolts and replacing them with rivets – effectively restoring some of the original spirit of the route. I ran into him several more times that week, but we never did end up sitting down for a beer and hours of mindless conversation about the history of climbing. Maybe next time, dude.
There are several more who I would have like to run into. Maybe next time David, Melissa, and others. I’ll be back soon, maybe September. I came up short in the success department this time, but grew much stronger in desire. It pains me every day to know what I left on the table, and I’m craving that feeling of satisfaction that comes from topping out. I need it soon.
Ed
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dsafanda
Jul 30, 2003, 12:46 AM
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Registered: Mar 6, 2002
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Nice. Well...you walked up to Zodiac with every intention of soloing it. That in itself makes you a bolder climber than myself. If you want it bad I'm sure success isn't too far away. If we get the chance to meet, hopefully it will be over beers in the Mountain Room Bar celebrating your successul solo ascent of Zodiac.
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craterlater
Jul 30, 2003, 11:06 PM
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Registered: Jan 15, 2003
Posts: 15
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QUIT SPANKIN YOUR MEAT POSTING THESE LONG ASS TR'S AND GO BACK AND SEND THAT BIATCH!
word.
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iamthewallress
Jul 30, 2003, 11:40 PM
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Registered: Jan 2, 2003
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Your a really great writer, Ed! Your TR cracked me up. I especially like the bit about starting out life with one foot in the bucket. I'll have to remember that myself. :lol: The summit only lasts for a second. You climbed a bunch on your trip, and that's what it's most about, IMO. I'm glad you had some fun and didn't get hurt.
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desertclimber
Jul 30, 2003, 11:49 PM
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Registered: Jul 26, 2003
Posts: 61
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Yep, great readin'!
I was in Indian Creek once when a girl lowered her climber off the end of a rope with a gri-gri... Oopsies! That little bit of extra caution can go a long way in saving your butt. Nice save, man... Nice to know you're still here.
Sounds like you had fun!
Ian.
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climbingcowboy
Jul 31, 2003, 6:06 AM
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Registered: Jun 24, 2002
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RIght on bro another great TR, cant wait to hook up with ya again (hopefully without an epic) :wink:
In reply to: So I didn’t have a full 215 ft of rope to take me to the ground. I only had the length of rope that ran between the P1 and P2 anchors. The more complicated question is why I didn’t recognize that. Let’s throw the obvious reasons out there first. One, I’m a fukking idiot. It doesn’t help matters to have one foot in the bucket right from the start, but those are the cards I’ve been dealt.
Dude thats priceless :lol: :lol:
You still got my stickclip?
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passthepitonspete
Sep 2, 2003, 5:31 PM
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Registered: Oct 10, 2001
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Bwah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!!! That little bastard of a bruin was wreaking havoc all over the place. Little bugger tore up my brand new foamy liner in my haulbag. Fortunately, he does not drink water.
Unfortunately, he does drink beer. While I had all my food hanging from a rope a long way out from the cliff, I forgot to chuck my beer in the bags. So I climbed forty feet up the third class ledges to the right of the base of The Trip, and left the beers in a paper bag on the ledge thinking it would be safe there. It wasn't. Luckily, the bear is a "cheap drunk" - he only consumed one can each of Guinness and Olde English, thus leaving me enough for my solo!
Incidentally, he is not the same bear as last year. This guy is a smaller version, but I can tell you his claws are just as sharp, and his tenacity unflappable.
Ed! My hands got sweaty - literally! - at how close you came to getting the chop! As per usual, it is not a single mistake that nearly did you in, but a "synergy" whereby the whole is greater than the sum of the parts.
It is important to remember that "many if not most climbing accidents happen on rappel." Double check, triple check. Don't make invalid assumptions.
In reply to: "Two hundred feet of jugging a free-hanging rope sucks... I made reasonable progress and was at the anchor in about 30 minutes.
Uh, dude - 'reasonable progress' is about ten minutes tops. When I'm fit I can easily jug 150' of free-hanging rope in four minutes. In fact, in June of 2002 I jugged two hundred feet in just under three minutes - not bad for an old fart. How? Because I'm a caver first, and climber second. Do yourself a favour and convert to a Frog jugging system in situations such as these.
I see you have already commented on the folly of jugging with your rack when you could have pulled it up. Then again, why did you have your rack on the ground? Why didn't you leave it at the top of your fixed lines? With your modified rack and the addition of your rack tethers, you unclip the thing after every lead, and leave it there. In fact, BEFORE you rap, take a look at everything that is going down with you. Except for jugs and cleaning tools and hammer, there shouldn't be too much more. There's nothing I hate more than to arrive back at my lower station carrying something I could have left up top! This means I must either carry it or haul it, thus creating extra work.
In reply to: "In retrospect there are only a couple of things that saved my ass. Divine intervention was certainly a part of it.
I believe this! Take the time to figure out why God still wants you alive, cuz he had every chance to let the debbil snuff you out-ah. [I'm sounding like a Baptist preacher with "the debbil" and "out-ah". You have to emphasie-zuh the consonants-sah when you talk about God-dah.]
In reply to: "One, I’m a fukking idiot."
This is entirely true. The Wise Man would have given up long ago where only the fool persists. It is precisely this type of foolishness that gets you up big walls, however. It really can pay to be too stupid to quit.
One of Yosemite's more successful wall climbers is known as "Big Wall Pete" Takeda, now a Senior Contributing Editor at Rick & Ice Magazine. He didn't earn his moniker from success - he earned it from failure! "Uh-oh, here comes 'Big Wall Pete'! What did you bail off of this time, Pete?"
Keep on keepin' on, Ed. But for heaven's sake, keep thinking! Especially when you're tired.
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maculated
Sep 2, 2003, 5:55 PM
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Registered: Dec 23, 2001
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In reply to: I’m certain I logged more miles taking my gear for a walk than I actually spent climbing during those two weeks.
I have a good visual now. Excellent TR. I would be royally pissed with my outing. Snaps for having a good time in spite of it all.
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