End of Days, End of Empire Part1

Summer is is wrap cold hard rain blew in from the west this morning driving me in tattered Italian robe back into the house. Susanne is in England with my global phone so Cormac and I are bachelors-in-residence, all quite groovy with Saturday hot sunny up on the Carter Lake boulders. Ryan came back after taking the cure up in Sheridan having gained weight & color his left leg looking rather worse, his mishap on Hallet's in the spring of 2008 being one of the more insane accidents I knew of personally.

Sunday my bitch was berserk from her heat so off we went for a 40 minute trail/road run the day warming upon us. That afternoon Zack avec Ryan appeared for a cave session with Lucky Dube and Bob boomin' in the background. My feet are a ruin so I climbed without shoes: the bigger the moves the better. I had a good session until Zack suddenly decided to try and swap-out his wasted Monsters for my set hanging there, my set a gift from the lovely Betta Gobbi some years back.

Dude, do I LOOK bigger than you?

Autumn thus begins the horned God ascendent Goddess descendent, I am eyeing a massive patch of mint out back mint jelly in mind a present for Susanne when she prances of thge plane in a week.

In August we drove through Yellowstone, spent a few nights there. One morning I got up after coffee I crossed under the road stepping out onto a river bottom under brooding mountains. The river was low only small fish about soon I noticed the umber mass of a solitary bull bison in recline along a bend to the south. Earlier I had walked by his dust wallow, his fresh fecal splatter, his piss stains. These lone bulls dot the primeval landscape within the park ousted from the herd they live out their days in solitude munching grass, lolling in the dust, dosing, just taking it all in until a pack of wolves happens by, wolves who by hard-wiring have again learned to stalk, harry, then bring down that one-ton bison supermarket extravaganza.

End of days...

I see something in that old bull, something in empathy. There are always challenges, the oldest bull would seem the most comely of opportunities for the upstart, yes? Randy Couture might prove otherwise though even he has of late taken his share of lumps. So is this the path to enlightenment?

I see today in the UK times that we will lose now in Afghanistan, shades of Vietnam the fall of which I watched with incredulity by black and white TV in 1975. Rome had such far-flung wars most of which she eventually lost going bankrupt both financially and morally in the process, the analogy being obvious.

Being a Good Partner-Staying Alive

Autumn, a time when I begin to recieve nibbles about going climbing. I so look forward to those first days, crisp, cold, thin ice, that first flash pump, clipping the slings. In the old days before my brains came in I would solo waterfall routes in the Canadian Rockies, my favorite part being to rappel back down the ice and see finally just how steep and harrowing the ice was, magnificent!

I will say I see a disconnect at times between what people anticipate in a day out and what occurs, there are a multitude of reasons for this I suspect so in the interest of writing a primer plus checklist here goes, what to expect on a day out upon the hill.

STAYING ALIVE
The list of the famous & recent-dead is long and storied, I don't intend to join them anytime soon. With that said if you climb with me there will be expectations, no one in thirty-plus years of climbing has ever been seriously injured climbing with me and that pretty much includes me, that record will remain unblemished in 2009-2010. Yup, I have taken some big whippers but thanks to diligent belaying I have survived with only a little missing paint, so...

1) KNOW HOW TO BELAY!!! Sounds easy right? It is, but you will need to pay attention, maybe for a while, in the cold, and no you can't talk on your cell phone at any time during this process. For winter I like the Grigri, although a skilled plate user is fine as well, do not use a Reverso for mixed climbing as these are designed for guiding not actually belaying a leader trying to pull rope for a difficult clip, if I see you pull out a Reverso I'm going top snatch this away from you and throw it off the cliff.

Any send takes two people, leader and belayer, the belayer needs to anticipate what the leader is doing, movement, particularly making clips, in general leave a slight "belly" in the rope. This is essential as it prevents nasty, jarring falls, the leader "boinks" down rather than swinging back into the route. A tight rope sucks when you make it to a dagger, pumped and here your belayer is keeping a tight rope putting, 5, 10, 15 pounds of back-pull on you, so knock it off!

2) Wear your helmet! Yes, I know there are all those groovy Alex pictures taken in Hyalite bare-headed (scary lady magazine editors all swoon here), but, he's dead, right? A few years back some dork knocked a whopper off and hit me square in the noggin BOOM!, according to the EMT who actually witnessed this I staggered a few steps and kept right on walking as I was wearing this cool yellow Grivel helmet betta Gobbi gave me, the shard dimpled the shell and split the foam liner, I had a stiff neck for a few days. Without the helmet someone else would undoubtedly be shaggin' Mrs. Cotter and that frankly is right-out.

Tools, crampons, ice screws, ice shards, rocks, quick draws, will all hurt you if they fall and hit you, they can kill you if they hit you in the head. In 2008 in the Ouray final Ines Papert fell from the diving board, left a Fusion tool rocking on a plastic hold, the tool then fell and popped Ines right in the head, her tracer spared her a serious injury or even being struck fatally thus preserving the very outside chance that I may at some point get to yet date Ines Papert.

Last winter I fell out of a Yaniro and went head-first through a curtain, spectacular but my Cassin Stunt plowed right through the icicles, violent but uneventful.

3) Don't use spurs! Sooooo 1990s, these things are excellent if you like to flip over in a fall, expose the blue-white intimacy of your tibia for all to see or disembowel your friends, not to mention that when walking around they will cut your rope without your even knowing it.

In fact I don't even wear a heel-plate on my Kayland Ice Dragons, lighter, they pack easier, less lethal, easier to walk in and unloading the yaniro is much easier.

4) Be prepared... Food, drink, warm clothes, tools, boots, harness, HELMET, belay device, spare gloves... Guys show up with a Blackberry and no helmet, or all their pot-smoking gear and no water, I'm not yer' mom which means I didn't pack your lunch. At a minimum you need a good belay jacket, a warm hat, gloves for climbing and belaying, spare (dry) socks, harness, tools, fruit boots, grub, fluids, a foam pad to sit on.

5) Be stoked! Most people in the world don't have enough to eat, no access to medical care let alone postable water, you are getting to go climbing for the day in the beautiful winter mountains so ENJOY YOURSELF!

6) Get up early, be on time for said rendezvous, don't plan on leaving early. I like to be first on the hill, pick the choice routes first then project when all the knuckleheads appear late for their flail on the aforementioned routes. I can't recall how many times I am clipped into bolt one, belayer is in position, I'm just giving my hands a final warm when up trots some bloke, "Duh-uh, are gonna climb that?"

What does it look like I'm "gonnadooo"...

7) Which leads me to point next. GIVE PEOPLE THEIR SPACE... Never fails a plethora of routes to choose from and along comes some tosser, wanting to climb exactly whatever route it is I am on. Why? My favorite is the guy who always has to climb right next to me (dude, WASH YOUR CLOTHES), newsflash, I don't care what you climb, I just don't...

8) My tendency is to move away from crowds, not towards them, much safer, quiter, I say whassup and off I go, much safer to not be hit by them or their falling tools or listen to them shrieking FUUUUUCCCCKKKKKK!!!! TAAAAAAAAKKKKKEEEEE!!!!! FUUUUUCCCCCCCKKKKKKK!!!! IM PUUUUUUMMMMPPPPPED!!! Sheesh...

9) Be strong... I mean mentally and phsically. No need for all that cross-fit horseshit, there's more to life than working out, everyday, every minute of every day, until you puke I mean (I grew up to believe puking was to be avoided, but then again, I GREW UP).

Yet a little preparation goes a long way, specific preparation. Recently I read an article about Erwan Le Corre and his Natural Movement approach to fitness. In short, gyms suck as you can't apply any of what you learn in a gym, better to train outside in nature to simulate Cro Magnon type activities.

Like dry-tooling...

Trail-running, bouldering, river-swimming, canoeing, grappling, fishing, all natural activities. Since I'm going to dry-tool I train by, yes, you guessed it, dry-tooling, my cave is all set up for it. I do pull-ups on a board not on a bar as there are never any metal bars to pull-up on the routes I climb. When it gets cold out I open the garage door and train in the cold, I wear climbing clothes and gloves, I freeze my ass off because when I climb I'm going to freeze my ass off. I lifted weights last year, a lot... I gained about 12 lbs., looked buff, I didn't climb very well. This year I am 173 pounds (79 kilos), lean... Climbing is about movement, since I am an adult I have adult responsibilities so this precludes spending three months in Canmore very autumn, I need to come out banging. I keep it simple, pushups, sit-ups, pull-ups, running, bouldering, dry-tooling, I'm too old to do shit that pisses me off...

10) Have some humility. There are routes I've done dozens of times, maybe over a hundred times that I can/will no longer do. There is merit in having done these routes I assume, which is why I came to master them over time, now that they have slipped away I adjust to that.

During one down period I told Susanne, "I'm not the man I was".

No, but you you are a different man, and no less of a man for that being true.

People get in a rut, human nature I suppose. We have our favorites, I enjoy certain climbs a good deal, anyone who has ever seen me do every variant of Eliminator Left Hand can observe this about me. As Yvonne Chouinard intoned, Every climb has its time, the road to enlightenment is rife with fine routes, some to be done once others repeatedly, there are always other routes to do and today may not be your day, nor tomorrow, nor this season. Trying hard and failing has merit, seeing others succeed as well can be enjoyed.

I avoid popular climbing culture not because the climbing portrayed has no merit but mostly because the culture of self-absorbed, wealthy white folks out enjoying luxury vacations in Calymnos or Patagonia or Nepal is all rather soul-less, the intent is to create envy I suppose but after a time I merely feel phsically sickened.

Mind you I don't deny anyone a grand holiday, I certainly take mine when I can, but the portrayed perpetual leisure lifestyle looks rather fabricated with all the perfect white teeth, the flat in Cahmonix and those stilted faux-benevolent stints at the Khumbu climbing school teaching Sherpas to ice-climb, for whom is this really intended?

SUMMARY
Winter is fast approaching, well, autumn is anyway. Days-off matter, make good use of them, don't waste yours, nor mine...

Leaders!

Okay, this is more for me than anyone reading this. The leader of the route/the day/the philosophical movement that is dry-tooling has the responsibility to, well, LEAD!

Dry-tooling has really taken a beating lately, receiving almost no press here in the USA, furthermore many "big-name" climbers (i.e., douche-bags) have spoken out against dry, whankers!

With that said this season I have been very encouraged by the interest people have had in getting in touch and training, everyone seems really stoked!

So, no yelling, cussing, berating the belayer, make sure everyone climbs!

ALLEZ!!!

Me and Bobby Kennedy

"There is a beginning to the voyage and an end to the voyage, and this beginning and ending is part of the natural order of things." -Edward M Kennedy-

I want to preface this piece by unequivocally stating I did not know Teddy Kennedy, I never met the man but I did admire his dedication to public service although the Chappaquidick episode was inexcusable, the actions of a coward and drunk. With that said I also being a two-fisted Irishman I appreciate his lust for woman and the bottle, a Catholic by birth I am certain there is no God but should there be one then teddy will now have to atone I suppose providing God is not unduly occupied with the various wars and genocidal on-goings.

I did however, once meet Bobby Kennedy, I even shook his hand. A first grader at Our Lady of Sorrows Catholic elementary school Bobby paid a quick visit as he campaigned for president on the way to his date with destiny in the form of an insane Sirhan Sirhan. The nuns brought us outside briskly, lined us up, Bobby rolled up got out and started pumping the flesh. I held my small 1st-grader hand out resplendent in gray slacks and blue wool blazer when voila' Bobby grabbed my hand and gave it a big squeeze. I recall a big horsey smile, a great shock of reddish-brown hair, then he was moving off down the line, gone...

Then this asshole Sirhan Sirhan shot him, no doubt asserting his second-ammendmant rights that seems to include blowing away your classmates, coworkers, random salsa dancers, your kids and most recently yourself.   

Of course all manner of right-wing fruit-cakes from Anne Colter to Rush Limbaugh will sorely miss the last Kennedy brother, who else to blame for two decades of colossal mismanagement of a great nation and its resources if not one senator rather than two Bushes, "the great" Ronald Reagan and that fatso Clinton.

But I digress, autumn always put me in a reflective pose, the long weekend has hints of summer but most certainly autumn, the days refuse to make up their minds.

Recently I received the Patagonia fall "alpine" catalog, I was relieved to see that despite nearly 10% plus national unemployment and knowing that over one million children in this country will return to school this autumn effectively homeless, to see that certain well-heeled yuppie white people are still out there impeccably attired enjoying any number of luxury vacations climbing and skiing, their perfect white teeth grimacing for the camera. Supposedly I am to "believe" in these activities of these folks, even donate to support them, hmmm...