RRC Archives

I don’t remember the last climbing story posted here, and we are breaking down into political debate…ugh...

So the other day Mr. Jones, Jesse, Alexis and I go to Fortress. I had not been there in over a year, as I spent almost all of last year sport climbing. Didn’t do me much good, but it was a lot of fun. Anyway, we get there, ready for cold, rain, and death from above (bad weather forecast). I didn’t end up raining, but the wind was howling. Actually, it was the strongest wind I’d experienced in the red, save the tornado. I was teaching Mr. Jones how to climb trad. I met him a couple weeks ago. Alexis threw out her shoulder, so we wanted to climb some slabs. We arrived late in the day, so we went to roadside. So this guy walks over to us, points at out gear, and says, with eyes the size of Jesus, “you guys climb trad?!” Anyway, I can tell how excited this guy is, and he seems like a nice guy, so I offer to teach him.

A few weeks later, we (the four of us) are at roadside, where I began this story.
Alexis and Jesse climb calypso, Jones and I pull out the rack and I show him how to place gear. In the back of my head, I’m thinking, man, I get so sick of these fortress climbs…sandy piles… Anyway, so I lead up calypso 2, and give Jones a play by play description of each thing I’m doing. I get down, and he ropes up, and FLEW to the anchors. He actually did this on all the routes we climbed.

Anyway, the whole point to this story was the wind tunnel on Bedtime for Bonzo. I’ve climbed this route 10 times or so, it’s always fun, and casual, but this was the best. We were sitting in the notch, and the wind was blowing so hard that I was scared about the upper crack. When I got there, the wind was literally blowing my quickdraws sideways, and I could feel it pushing me up the route. The pine needles in the trees we all being bent backwards, and I even skipped a move- the wind was pushing me sideways enough that I didn’t have to re-position my feet. I was being blasted by the wind, and I felt just like I did when I first started climbing- wildly happy.

Jones flew up it too, it was really cool to watch the face of someone who had never topped out at the red before, I could tell it made him happy too.

So that’s my song-

Great story Huggybone. I have been in the RRG in that exact spot when the wind was wicked. One time a couple of years back Goodguy and I were climbing a climb (5.8) a couple of pulloffs before the Military parking area where there was some previous fire damage. After topping out we were working our way down through the woods and the wind was dropping the damaged trees left and right. Pretty nerve racking. Anyway I was going to tell my story about the bouldering preacher at The Garden Of The Gods in S. Illinois. The story took place many years ago when I was still a somewhat young man learning the ropes and Goodguy and his brother Boomer where young teenage Soccer players. We had just left a soccer tournament in Alton, Illinois when the old man (me) decided to drive due south and check this place called Garden of the Gods for Rock climbing possibilities. Needless to say the two boys were less than thrilled having never rock climbed and seeing no sense in starting now. Shortly after arriving I saw a Rasputin looking little fellow who seemed to be in some difficulty about 20 ft. below us in a crack system. I immediately informed the out of shape, rotund looking crack rat that I could fetch my rope and haul him out if so desired. He begged off of any assistance and we went about our business. A few minutes later this gentleman sat down beside me where I had taken up position wathching my two young offspring scamble about the rocks. He quickly told me that he was the preacher at a nearby church and came here often. He told me how his Mother and his wife had both recently passed away from cancer. He especially liked to come to the rocks and climb around during thuderstorms and talk to God.
He seemed a very sad man and I felt a deep empathy for him. After awhile we went our seperate ways and I have often wondered over the years if God ever granted him his wish and claimed his life upon those rocks so that he could be at peace. I never returned to the Garden Of The Gods having found Jackson Falls and Drapers Bluff a short time later.
That's my story.

Great stories, guys. Fortress Wall is where I learned to climb. Bought gear and taught myself how to lead climb. American Crack was my first real lead. I started up it with a rack that weighed about as much as me. Awesomely bold, man. There were times when I ran it out as much as three feet. Back when I first started climbing there there weren't any anchors to rap off. We rapped a gnarly little tree to the right of American Crack. I remember the pride and excitement of doing Snake, Party Time, Dicey at Best, and Bedtime for Bonzo the first time.

The Mighty Eidson at Tower Rock was always a wonderful adventure. I still think that first pitch is stiff for 5.4.

And then there's climbing in the High Sierras. A two-day approach to do North Palisade, topping out on top of the world looking down at the famous glacier, descending blind in the night and ending up off-route on a steep snow field and crying about it.

Ah! And Royal Arches in Yosemite Valley, too! Truly spectacular. So far above the valley floor. Scenic and adventurous. And a thousand foot rappel starting at midnight.

I've got more but it's getting deep.

ZSpider

It was a little bit chilly and blustery this weekend too. However, the snow was beautiful and pleasantly serene. Anyway, we were working on some new routes at the Stadium and the land on top had been recently logged. The loggers only used the bottom sections of the trees, leaving all of the treetops laying along the top of the cliff like fallen soldiers after a fierce battle.

Many of these treetops were precariously perched near the edge of the cliff and several toppled into the Valley with a thunderous roar. A few of them had fallen off into the live trees below where they became dangerously tangled in the upper branches. Several times the wind howled, the trees swayed, and debris came crashing down all around us. It was necessary to stay alert because a few of these treacherously troublesome treetops looked as if they were likely to take us out at any moment. I was happy to get out of there after our work was finished. The route earned an appropriate name: "Treetop Terror".