Posted: Sat Nov 18, 2006 9:42 pm
OK, so its Saturday night, and I am most definitely home, and not going anywhere but to the bottom of my last beer, so I might as well tell a story to pass the time. So, here it is, and you know you all have a story like this, you know, the I WAS ONCE A GUMBY story. So here it goes. Both of these took place in the winter of 1999-2000
SUPERGUMBY STORY #1: So I started out a pretty small penchant for logic when I started leading. For example, the first time I went leading without Jeff Hylok (to whom I am in debt for teaching me the ways of the chock), I went to climb roadside attraction, at night, with a 50 meter rope. Now, the actual climbing went fine, as I remember, but, I clip into the anchor, yell TAKE! down to my buddy, and when he yells GOT, all I hear is this tremendous clanking sound of MOST of my gear coming out of the crack. Slightly unnerving, but I managed. I yell "LOWER" and, on my way down I inspect both pieces that did not come out of the crack. Both Cams. As I near the ledge with the tree, Brad yells up, "hey, uh, we have a problem. There's not enough rope." While it would make a better story if we did not have another rope on hand, we did, he managed to throw it up to me, I went back up and tied my knots and managed to get to the ground, and no epic ensued. But, that reminds me of another story-
SUPERGUMBY STORY #2: I think it was about the middle of winter, and I went to Fortress with a guy named Jon who sold reptile food during the week, and his brother, who liked to juggle hot ashes. Actually, I think his brother was not there, now that I think about it. Anyway, it was me, Jon, and I think some members of the UC mountaineering club. It snowed a few inches, and we had a grand time climbing. I think that was the weekend I led Blue Runner for the first time, but I'm not sure. After a good day of climbing with icecles crashing down periodically, we head over to do BTFB. I don't remember anything about the first pitch, but I do remember this:
I lead the second pitch, being very carful to place plenty of gear, and all goes well with the climbing, but I notice the rope seems very heavy as I start up the diagonal crack. When I reach the ledge with the tree, I am confronted with an inch of very compactable snow. I dig around for the dish, it is not to be found. So, straining against the rope, I get up just far enough that a fall will land me in outer space, yet I cannot move- I used no runners on my gear! I strain with all my might, and my body has turned the snow into a sheet of ice, and my mind is completelly gone. I fell that I cannot downclimb and put runners on my gear, and I cannot continue on. So naturally, I whip out my cordlette, know it around the rope, and UNTIE FROM MY HARNESS! Then I tied the cordlette to my harness, and finally reach the anchors. The spectacle of swearing and cursing while trying to pull the rope is no story, but when my partners get up to the belay their jaws agape when I tell them what i did. "You did what?!"
SUPERGUMBY STORY #1: So I started out a pretty small penchant for logic when I started leading. For example, the first time I went leading without Jeff Hylok (to whom I am in debt for teaching me the ways of the chock), I went to climb roadside attraction, at night, with a 50 meter rope. Now, the actual climbing went fine, as I remember, but, I clip into the anchor, yell TAKE! down to my buddy, and when he yells GOT, all I hear is this tremendous clanking sound of MOST of my gear coming out of the crack. Slightly unnerving, but I managed. I yell "LOWER" and, on my way down I inspect both pieces that did not come out of the crack. Both Cams. As I near the ledge with the tree, Brad yells up, "hey, uh, we have a problem. There's not enough rope." While it would make a better story if we did not have another rope on hand, we did, he managed to throw it up to me, I went back up and tied my knots and managed to get to the ground, and no epic ensued. But, that reminds me of another story-
SUPERGUMBY STORY #2: I think it was about the middle of winter, and I went to Fortress with a guy named Jon who sold reptile food during the week, and his brother, who liked to juggle hot ashes. Actually, I think his brother was not there, now that I think about it. Anyway, it was me, Jon, and I think some members of the UC mountaineering club. It snowed a few inches, and we had a grand time climbing. I think that was the weekend I led Blue Runner for the first time, but I'm not sure. After a good day of climbing with icecles crashing down periodically, we head over to do BTFB. I don't remember anything about the first pitch, but I do remember this:
I lead the second pitch, being very carful to place plenty of gear, and all goes well with the climbing, but I notice the rope seems very heavy as I start up the diagonal crack. When I reach the ledge with the tree, I am confronted with an inch of very compactable snow. I dig around for the dish, it is not to be found. So, straining against the rope, I get up just far enough that a fall will land me in outer space, yet I cannot move- I used no runners on my gear! I strain with all my might, and my body has turned the snow into a sheet of ice, and my mind is completelly gone. I fell that I cannot downclimb and put runners on my gear, and I cannot continue on. So naturally, I whip out my cordlette, know it around the rope, and UNTIE FROM MY HARNESS! Then I tied the cordlette to my harness, and finally reach the anchors. The spectacle of swearing and cursing while trying to pull the rope is no story, but when my partners get up to the belay their jaws agape when I tell them what i did. "You did what?!"