In Praise Of Mark Hudon
^,,^
much like) with my bestus climbing buddy from my youth. the topic
turned to our shared days in north conway (NH) long, long ago. and
with that quick to jimmy dunn, and with that quick to mark hudon.
my pal later emailed me, on the computer machine (which neither of us
much like), an audio interview with brother hudon -- one recorded in
august of '08. if you can humm and bzzt your way through all of the
opening sponsor hummers (i barely could) the actual part with the
actual hudon is rather excellent.
~~~
when hudon and jones did what i am pretty certain was the second free
ascent of the prow at cathedral (NH), it truly changed my world. for
i watched it from close nearby (a well wired 5.9), at pretty much his
eye level at the worst of the crux.
all of us (well, teen "us") believed that jimmy dunn's masterpiece
(well, one of them) was entirely a reach problem. for dunn is a tall
guy (in my memory he grows every year, like 6'8 -- though i suspect in
the real world more like 6' 2") -- well, dunn is surely taller than
me. i'm (just barely) 6'0" -- and in those daze, for then i was in my
mid teens, almost surely shorter. that and dunn has this absolutely
huge wingspan, a true knuckle dragger. that and dunn had, like all of
the truly great ones i actually met, absolutely no discernable ego at
all. at least none that i could comprehend.
now hudon was, well it is for him to say, but surely no more than
5'5". and he tagged the crux on his very first try. as did his
excellent (and notably taller) partner, max jones. and witnessing
this changed my -- our (my pals and me) -- fook'n world, forever. for
if nothing else, hudon proved to me that it was surely not the reach
problem that me and my pals had convinced ourselves through many lame
failures that it was. for we had given our only recently pubescents
selves permission not to try especially hard to actually finish the
route. but in that that remarkable moment, brother hudon proved us
all wrong. and with thathe lit all of our small jets. bless his
mighty soul.
that same pal just now sent me an audio interview with mark hudon.
you can find it here:
http://odeo.com/episodes/23136358-Masters-of-Rock-Mark-Hudon-Interview
if you can humm, buzz, or juss cuss your way through all of the
opening sponsor handjobs, the rest of it (the part with the actual
hudon) might prove quite worth the effort.
~~~~
so, with these images flooding my mind:
the top 5 rock climbers i've actually witnessed (defined simply as
gravity-defying smooth on wicked hard) of all time? (just off the top
of my pointy head, just now...) umm... dunn, edlinger, hudon,
hill, anderson... (five, that's all i get? sheesh...)
top five novels ("just off the top of my pointy head, just now..."):
one hundred years of solitude, moby dick, sister carrie, lord jim,
ulysses... (five, that's all i get? sheesh...)
top five movies ("just off the top of my pointy head, just now..."):
wings of desire, meet joe black, the red tent, casablanca, the year of
living dangerously... (five, that's all i get? sheesh...)
top five most stunning women i have ever encountered: ... dream
on, not even i am that stupid...
~~~
well, that was fun. ask me tommorow and i am almost certain that at
least one on each list of five will have changed (i'm especially
almost certain as i don't read my own stuff -- do you think i am an
absolute moron?)
better yet, feed me with your own top five of pretty much anything
worth counting. ok, your top five of something of your top five of
everything.
it's not as easy as you might think. but then, i won't hold you (or
me) to just today.
canis fidelis est,
^,,^
i'm just gonna try to send this post once, then wait at least a
week...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"In our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the
heart
until, in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom
through the awful grace of God." -Aeschylus, "Agamemnon"
(as slightly misquoted by RFK upon the death of MLK -- a quote i
just happened to stumble back into
today, only to remember that it haunts me still)
kelli...@gmail.com
thanks, I'll check that out. As if I need something else to remind me
my (climbing) troubles are all in my head!
Here are a couple of top sixes for you, I just couldn't get down to
five:
Top six climbs that off the top of my pointy head, a litle while back,
I remember(ed) loving the most while I was actually on them, instead
of those that seemed great once I was back down sitting around a fire
with a drink in my hand:
Cragging:
Davis-Holland/Lovin’ Arms – Index, WA
Something of Value/Last Moon/Moonraker – Blouberg, South Africa
West Face – North Early Winters Spire, WA
Camp Farm – Cochamo, Chile
Hyperspace – Snow Creek Wall, WA
Paddle Flake Direct – Crescent Spire, Bugaboos, BC
Alpine:
North Ridge – Forbidden Peak, WA
East Ridge – Wolf’s Head, WY
Lost Marsupials – The Throne, Little Switzerland, AK
Squash Head/Backoff – Santaquin Canyon, UT
Triple Couloirs – Dragontail Peak, WA
South Face – Inspiration Peak, WA
I note that Jim Harrison is not on your top five novels list. How was
The English Major? Being one myself, I took note when it came out,
but having only read one Jim Harrison that left me kind of
"eh" (Returning to Earth), I haven't checked it out yet. I'm just
finishing Walton's Lives (my goodness but Sir Henry Wooten had an
exciting life) and about to start The Yiddish Policeman's Union, but
after that I'll be looking for more reading material so let me know.
kelli...@gmail.com
And I can't possibly do top five ever but I can do top five I've read
this year:
The Last Chronicle of Barset - Trollope
The Heart of the Matter - Greene
Special Topics in Calamity Physics - Pessl
The Sound and the Fury - Faulkner
Red Sky at Morning - Bradford
Biggest disappointment of the year was Doris Lessing's The Golden
Notebook. Man, if that's what being an emancipated woman was all
about in the 70s I'm glad I was just a kid. blech.
Anybody out there tell me what you've been reading that you like; I am
always in search of recommendations.
Sue
<9e017b7f-e9a4-4fa1...@i18g2000prf.googlegroups.com>,
kelli...@gmail.com wrote:
> Anybody out there tell me what you've been reading that you like;
not sure I can anywhere down to 5, but off the top of my head in no
particular order.
hmmm
all the pretty horses-cormack mccarthy
the true history of the kelly gang-peter carey
trout fishing in america-richard brautigan
throat spockets-tim lucas (my twisted side is showing)
art and lies-jeanette winterson
gone with the wind-margaret mitchell
waltzing the cat-pam houston
^,,^
while i personally ferociously inhale jim harrison's fiction as if it
were oxygen and i was buried under an avalanche, i wouldn't call any
of his fiction to date a masterpiece. though delicious and well worth
ready? absolutely. i especially like "Wolf" and "Dalva".
to my small eye it is just a few of harrison's poems that enter the
realm of true masterpiece -- what harold bloom and john guillory call
'canonical'. (i had the remarkable good luck to take tutorials with
both of them) harrison's 'letters to yesenin' towers on this front,
at least to my small mind.
the density and brevity of poetry is, quite obviously to you people,
simply foreign to me. i believe we all have an innate sense of pace
when it comes to how we think -- and through that how we write and how
we read. some souls are by nature poets; others short story writers;
and others novelists. this regardless of whether they ever get the
opportunity to be literate, to be able to read or write anything.
some people by their very nature are sprinters like poets. others jog
like short story writers. and others forever do the long walk of the
novelist.
as such, i didn't even attempt to do a 'top five list' for poetry --
as this is a domain that at least in the centuries since the english
romantic poets poisened the water, rather foreign territory to me.
there are only a handful of poets after milton (well, ok, after the
englsih mystics like blake or traherne) that i am willing to read on
my own time. man, the english romantic poets really peed in gene
pool. the results remain obvious in most of what poetry is written
even today. shelley wrote "i fall upon the thorns of life, i bleed"
~~~~ [digression follows]
i remember this largely because one of my undergrad classmates wrote
that quote on my rather large white cast after i demolished 2 bones in
my right leg after crashing mightily (and i was lucky) off a loose
bouldering foray that quick became a way-too-high-point simply because
i wasn't paying attention to my personal altimeter. oopsy. fwiw,
another pal simply wrote "next time we breaka d'other leg" and signed
it 'guido the icepick'
~~~~ [digression ends, well kinda]
um, yeah... i personally would wisg i had the chance to have thrown
shelley on a far larger thorn -- something more on the order of a
sharpened stake of 2 inch rebar. but, too late, the damage was done
long before i was born.
i was struck by our sister sue's mention of brautigan. amen. "The
Pill versus the Springhill Mine Disaster" is certainly the best title
of the 20th century. what a mental image. almost perfect.
~~~~
ok, having tried to explain why i am precisely the last person to ask
about poetry after blake -- here's my list of five poems written
since blake actually worth reading:
"Letters To Yesenin" Jim Harrison (try to find his now out of print
'New And Collected Poems' in some used book store)
"This Room And Everything In It" Li-Young Lee (in his collection
"The City in Which I Love You")
"Salami" Philip Levine (best read in it's original source, the
collection "They Feed They Lion")
"The Author To The Critical Peruser" Thomas Traherne (um, try
wikipedia or better yet your local university library)
"Leaves Of Grass" Walt Whitman (like i said, i forever have a soft
spot for the mystics)
~~~
me, i spent this early evening sitting on the steps of a nearby
apartment building watching all the little kiddies trundle by and trip
over one onther in their halloween regalia (sadly, no child would dare
to knock on a door at BigEarl's -- and rightly so). that parade was
absolutely priceless. here's hoping your halloween was as sweet
^,,^
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"uncertain times require uncertain leadership" - a good gag line from
The Capital Steps Halloween gig. the whole show was especially funny
-- perhaps small wonder given what will happen next tuesday. i
recommend it to you. i've heard that you can 'pod' it somewhere,
somehow. i dunno, ask a real geek (me, i just bite the heads off of
live chickens).
^,,^
Steps gig/gag:
i tried to find the elusive podcast of recent Capital Steps gigs, and
in the end never found it. hence the "elusive" part. and hence the
"ask a real geek" part. though i did find their basic website; and
there found their "Lirty Dies" page. with that, i've spent the last
couple of hours posalutely vetting myself. sheesh.
now part of this is due to my childlike belief that maybe some kids
might actually knock on my door down at BigEarl's -- so i bought 6
snickers bars as i walked home, just in case. come, oh, 11pm, i
realized the obvious and well, pretty much ate all of them (the
snickers bars, not the children). my system simply isn't wired for
that much sugar and (via the chocolate) that much caffiene. and oh,
my babies, i was like bouncing off all four walls, the ceiling, and
(of course) the floor, like all at once. still am. i can't believe
that snickers bars are legal -- and yet cocaine isn't. i, for one,
can't see the difference.
the other part is that what i liked most in tonights Capital Steps gig
(which i heard on my circa 1985 walkperson as i wandered home from the
suits' orifice) was the "Lirty Dies" gaff. stunny fluff. and the
more i listened to it the more i realized that my posts here are
similar -- given that NotePad has no spellcheck and the not quite
correct mouse driver i have on my laptop causes my cursor to let loose
and float at will, causing me to unwittingly type over all manner of
text and/or insert new stuff smack in the middle of existing stuff.
that's the simularity. the difference is that this "Lirty Dies" stuff
is genuinely funny. the guy who does this schtick is a gooking fenius.
you can read about the basic mindset of "Lirty Dies" at
http://www.capsteps.com/lirty/
~~~
or you can do like me and just dive into it and eventually figure it
out for yourself (not so hard). of what is available on the
historical on-line menu, i recomend the following two audio files
(that and if at work, do plug in your headphones first -- or you'll
have some splaning to do):
http://www.capsteps.com/sounds/lirty-gushbore.mp3
(re: the state where i have spent too many of my available years:
Falicornia)
http://www.capsteps.com/sounds/lirty-falicornia.mp3
(re: Bush v. Gore, et al)
^,,^
kelli...@gmail.com
ask a real geek (me, i just bite the heads off of
> live chickens).
Speaking of which I did finally read Geek Love this year, and while it
didn't make my top five, I could not stop reading it (with horrified
fascination). Now that was a twisted little story. Interesting how
many twisted little stories seem to have come out of portland.
I'm supposed to be climbing but I have a nasty cold and it's wet and
drizzly outside. boo, hiss. Hopefully when I get back from Costa
Rica there will be some alpine ice to play on. I shall now curl up on
the couch with my spanish books and see if I can hammer direct and
indirect object pronouns into my little overloaded brain.
^,,^
> Speaking of which I did finally read Geek Love this year, and while it
> didn't make my top five, I could not stop reading it (with horrified
> fascination).
on the "horrified fascination" front, i read most of Stephen Baker's
"The Numerati" (then it was like, 'enough already!") yikes...
> Interesting how many twisted little stories seem to have come out of portland.
shucks, i wish i had heard that warning earlier. i once dated a
member of the faculty at Lewis and Clark -- posalutely redefined my
personal definition of 'twisted'.
though, on a larger front, 'Go Ducks!' -- many people dear to me
live in oregon, especially in eugene and environs.
~~~
as for your list of fave rock climbs, thanks. i hope to check the
many of i haven't yet done out. those few i have get my vote too.
i wish to return the favor, but as i rocket into my personal dotage i
am increasingly uniterested in my own list of fave rock climbs.
(though i continue to devour the lists of others, for i often learn
something, often something magic). most (though, surprisingly, not
all) of rock climbing Mecca's are Mecca's for a reason. and,
therein, most of the consensus classics are deemed classics for good
reason. astroman, casual route, camber, the naked edge... does it
surprise any of you that these are in fact magnificent routes? of
course not. but those climbs, i just now realize, are relatively hard
climbs. there are many others every bit as good which are hardly
hard. you've heard me refer to them. the swiss arete on mt sills,
sliding board, the royal arches/crested jewel combo... among many
others.
~~~
well, upon a rare moment of reflection, here are a couple that get
little press but, to my small eye, are surely in the same league:
pilier des écureuils, verdon
verdon has always compelled me, and always (once up close) given me
what my ancestors call 'the fear'. very steep, and plenty of it (800
or so feet through most of its larger walls). what has to date always
rattled me is that you rap in. this is, ideally, not the way to start
your day. climb el cap or the diamond, and the exposure comes slowly
-- as fast and as much as you choose. in verdon, you lace up your
shoes then suddenly get _all_ of it all at once. i end up freaked
before you i start the first pitch. that and it's limestone. most
excellent limestone, but that is hardly granite. i liked this route
because, well, how often do you get to do liebacks of any distance on
limestone. that and there was always a corner somewhere to stick my
head in and there escape the exposure for a moment and catch my
breath. my recollection is that it is rated (FR) 6a. which is, i'd
guess, something on the order of (YDS) hard 10 or soft 11 -- and 11
only gets so soft... especially if limestone isn't your best gig.
dogs like squirrels.
firefingers, yosemite valley
a rare find in the valley (but, oh, absolutely everywhere in blessed
tuolumne) -- a seemingly impossible face climb of endless nothings on
a just shy of vertical wall. i'm amazed it dosn't get more press. it
simply redefines "smedging" (both feet _and_ hands) -- especially with
early issue spanish rubber. on the last pitch i was absolutely
convinced i was going airborne on every single move. but as this is a
route that no one (well, no one i know) can retreat more than a move
or two, why not at least whiff while actually attemptinp up? no?
imagine my surprise when i actually saw the the final bolts under my
nose -- this after 20 or so moves of "oh, i'm fooked". since them my
couple of repeat trips have been a tad easier, simply because i then
knew that it was do-able. even still it is magic because there are
few if any holds at the long crux of it that seem possible. ah, the
simple joy of one dumb luck miracle after another, all in a row. i
looked it up and it is rated (YDS) 11b. um, sure. me, i'd rather bet
on my own self finishing a route with just one move of 12b than one
with 20 moves of 11b. YMM(of course)V...
diedre, squamish
diedre gets little press (though much traffic) in recent years. i
suspect it get's second schrift relative to other masterpieces nearby
simply because it is not rated (YDS) 5.double_digit. how silly. a
glorious line, always interesting and easily protected. does one
truly need to tear muscles and scare the poop out of themselves to
have a great day out? of course not. i've seen ratings of (YDS) 7
and 8. who cares. i rate it 5.perfect especially on a dry late fall
day.
well, enough for now.
as for big mountain routes, the whole idea of 'route' largely falls
apart. add in weather and snow and ice conditions, and all
comparisons quick become pointless.
~~~
re: movies:
people close to my ear (and mouth) were _SHOCKED_ that i did not
include Dr. Strangelove and Apocolypse Now on my list of films. for,
hell, i quote from at least one every 15 minutes or so. sheesh. me,
i thought both films were universally considered a given. if not,
please do adjust my film list accordingly.
canis fidelis est,
^,,^
Al Black
> i wish to return the favor, but as i rocket into my personal dotage i am
> increasingly uniterested in my own list of fave rock climbs.
Same here. Like anyone needs to read about more rants about 5.4
adventures. Other lists are way more interesting and inspiring ...
> to them. the swiss arete on mt sills, sliding board, the royal
> arches/crested jewel combo... among many others.
A for what its worth about sliding board. Climbed it with Nick Parker an
wreck climbing donut posse charter member, and my wife. So I was leading
through the crux, and Nick and Di were hanging out below nattering away.
It was one of those greasy July days, and well I was below the bolt,
within earshot, trying to figure out what the hell to do with my feet.
At the same time somebody was drilling a new anchor off to my left on
exaposorator (?), and it was well the the usual weekend zoo. So as I'm
pulling through Nick says, hey that drilling sounds like a giant
vibrator, and Di and him start killing themselfs laughing. I of course
am trying to put my left foot up around my ear as this happens... Gawd I
laughed the whole way up, revelling in the "purity" of climbing
experience.
A for for what its worth, sea of pockets off to the left, finishing off
with the added pitch that jogs a bit more to the left, is, I think, as
much fun as sliding board. That hope its dry and not flaring crack,
never is, but that's okay.
I digress once again...
> diedre, squamish
> diedre gets little press (though much traffic) in recent years.
Thanks for reminding me I need to lead the last pitch yet. Hmmm city of
rock or squamish and Mountain Burger Hut in the early season ....
> re: movies:
> sheesh. me, i thought
> both films were universally considered a given.
And Diva.
al
kelli...@gmail.com
>
> though, on a larger front, 'Go Ducks!' -- many people dear to me
> live in oregon, especially in eugene and environs.
> ~~~
My family is from Eugene/Springfield area and I spent mucho time there
as a child. Still do on occasion as many family members still live
there. I have fond memories of walking through my grandfather's acres
of greenhouses (now, sadly, a subdivision), back behind Garden Way to
watch the fireworks at Autzen Stadium.
>
> as for your list of fave rock climbs, thanks. i hope to check the
> many of i haven't yet done out. those few i have get my vote too.
>
> i wish to return the favor, but as i rocket into my personal dotage i
> am increasingly uniterested in my own list of fave rock climbs.
> (though i continue to devour the lists of others, for i often learn
> something, often something magic). most (though, surprisingly, not
> all) of rock climbing Mecca's are Mecca's for a reason. and,
> therein, most of the consensus classics are deemed classics for good
> reason. astroman, casual route, camber, the naked edge... does it
> surprise any of you that these are in fact magnificent routes? of
> course not. but those climbs, i just now realize, are relatively hard
> climbs. there are many others every bit as good which are hardly
> hard.
which reminds me that I forgot On the Lamb, which also is "hardly
hard" but possibly one of the most fun climbs I have ever done. When
we finished I wanted to turn around and do it in the opposite
direction. It was a sunny day, I was with one of my best buddies, I
was in Tuloumne which was the first three-week stop on the longest and
no doubt best road trip I have taken or ever will take, it was all
just glorious. I remember hesitating a bit at the beginning of the
crux part while my partner jovially screamed, "DOOOOO
IIIIIIIITTTTTTTTT!!" behind me and then how insanely fun it was once I
committed. I stole half his pitch too for which I had to buy him a
king cobra at the Tuolumne store.
I am particularly fond of those climbs that that may or may not have a
name and may or may not have been done before. Susan and I did and
excellent climb in Little Switzerland that consisted of us saying,
"this looks like it will go" and then a few pitches up there was a
beyoootiful arete that had some bolts, so it clearly had been climbed
before, and we were enjoying ourself so immensely that we continued
beyond where it seemed likely the route ended, and sure enough, ended
up rapping off loose blocks on bootied old slings we'd gathered on the
ascent. Good times.
>
> diedre, squamish
> diedre gets little press (though much traffic) in recent years.
I still haven't done this because every time I think about it there
are a bazillion people in line for it and I am not exactly renowned
for my patience. Maybe if I start at 5 pm in a rainstorm.
>
>
> as for big mountain routes, the whole idea of 'route' largely falls
> apart. add in weather and snow and ice conditions, and all
> comparisons quick become pointless.
> ~~~
I love ice climbing for the very fact that everytime you climb
anything it's a completely different experience. And I love the
mountains (small though they may be around here), although this summer
I spent so much time in the alpine that my actual rock climbing skill
declined precipitously. Also after the last outing to the Pickets,
when it took my buddy Ryan and I over *three hours* to ascend 1400
feet through cliff bands and dense brush, I found writing to a friend
"I am so over this climbing crap. I'm through with bushwacking around
carrying a big pack straight uphill and having pine needles and dirt
and bark down my back and having my clothes smell like I've been
living in them for five years a half hour after I put them on and
being stung by nettles and stuck by devil's club. I'm freaking ready
to go a few movies and lie around in the sun and sit on my ass at
patio tables drinking drinks with little umbrellas in them. so
there." Subsequenly my sweet man had to put up with no doubt the most
sedentary vacation he's ever taken in his life to Zion, of all places,
where I was happy to just descend a couple of canyons and lie around
like a lizard. Poor guy; I think he was a little stir crazy by the
end.
Good thing he's not going to Costa Rica. I predict large amounts of
lazing around to occur there, at least once we finish downloading the
stream data.
kelli...@gmail.com
> On Sun, 02 Nov 2008 14:48:15 -0800, ^,,^ wrote:
> > i wish to return the favor, but as i rocket into my personal dotage i am
> > increasingly uniterested in my own list of fave rock climbs.
>
> Same here. Like anyone needs to read about more rants about 5.4
> adventures. Other lists are way more interesting and inspiring ...
>
about 5.4 adventures. I'd read 'em.
>
> Thanks for reminding me I need to lead the last pitch yet. Hmmm city of
> rock or squamish and Mountain Burger Hut in the early season ....
>
Squish has much better access to donuts than COR.
Klooch Man
> I am particularly fond of those climbs that that may or may not have a
> name and may or may not have been done before.
I don't know about tearing muscles but IMHO one *does* need to scare
the poop out of themselves and also go cold, hungry, etc., etc., etc.
in order to have a *great* day out.
Isn't pleasure hardship remembered sitting by the fireplace?
Isn't the reason that the British went into the Himalaya because there
is no joy in the world like coming out of the Himalaya?
Didn't Shackleton, after the Endurance saga, go back to the
Antarctic?
Do people remember *anything* the way it actually was?
I suggest that Sunblessed is a much better climb than Diedre, for
reasons too numerous to list.
If we are talking about a favorite, though, let me mention that
Brendan's favorite climb is Cerberus. At least this year it was. He
climbed it 4 times that I'm sure of and probably 6 in fact. I was with
him on 2 of those.
Brendan is a young (26) climbing mentor I hadn't seen for a few years.
This season he taught me how to orient the toothed belay device for
belaying, when I had thought the teeth were only significant when
rapping on thin lines.
I don't have a favorite climb but I do (or did) have a favorite pitch
and that is the first pitch of Cerberus. It is a 5.10 dike that zooms
up and right across an otherwise holdless granite wall high above the
ground. I had climbed Cerberus a couple times back in one of my
previous lives and thought that pitch 1 was an amazing feature in a
dramatic location.
So I mentioned to Brendan what a super pitch it was. It isn't easy to
get to, though.
On our first attempt Brendan and Tom and I went via "Yosemite Crack"
which I had also done a couple times once upon a time. This time the
effort nearly made me pass out. My plan had been to get to Cerberus,
do the first pitch, and rap or down-climb from there. We did get to
Cerberus but then doubt was expressed over the feasibility of
retreating from the first pitch. Apparently our appetite for adventure
had been satisfied.
On attempt number 2 we started via Rock Loggers, which took me several
falls to get past the crux. Then there was the curiously desperate
opening act of Milk Run. Don't fall just past the crux on that one. It
is a traverse and the stronger climber should go second. We did the
enduro pitch of Milk Run and the first pitch of Cerberus.
My favorite pitch was not friendly as I had remembered. I arrived at
the end of it with numb white fingers under gray skies. To my
consternation Brendan seemed to think we might continue. Not that
time. We learned that it is tricky but possible to rap from there.
Finally, Brendan hit on the idea of hiking up through the Bulletheads,
which takes about 20 minutes, walking out across the top of Tantalus
Wall, and rapping in to the start of Cerberus, which worked out
brilliantly. It turns out that we were being true to the style of the
FA in doing that. It was a beautiful sunny day. On the middle pitch I
fell eleven times or so trying to make it past the brief crux. I tried
aiding past it but couldn't. Brendan cruised the entire route.
The message is that a climb may not be the way you remember it, eh?
So how can you make up a reliable list of good climbs if you did them
longer ago than yesterday? Memorable climbs are a horse of another
color. After them you may think you had a good time even though during
the process it was painful, frustrating, and scary.
Because my favorite pitch was the first pitch of Cerberus, I was
surprised and delighted to come across a photo in Canadian Geographic
of a similar-looking pitch on the Chief. It was on a route called
Genius Loci. It showed Greg Foweraker clipped securely through a bolt,
walking across a dike in the middle of nowheresville, Land of Granite.
It was rated 5.10. This was years ago.
My friend Catalan and I got ourselves up Genius Loci but by the time I
arrived at the awesome dike pitch (the last pitch in this case) I
couldn't quite manage it on sight, which in those days I felt more
unhappy about than I would today. We didn't do any of the other
pitches of Genius Loci on sight, either, but they were supposed to be
just the means to an end.
The message in this case is that even though that climb was the
furthest thing from easy and even though we were both whupped, it was
still a great day out. In retrospect.
Lately I've become paranoid about this memory thing. After 8 years of
working with people who have Alzheimers' and other forms of dementia
it has only just now struck me how weird it is that they have so
little insight into their condition. It isn't like a person with, for
example, diabetes, who knows they have diabetes and knows that they
need some kind of help. I see people who think it is daytime when it
is 2 am, and looking out a window into the dark does not dent at all
their conviction. They frequently run up against facts which disagree
hugely with whatever view of reality they hold, but the facts don't
seem to influence their behavior.
My wife the medical geneticist says that a similar effect is found in
mental retardation. People with mildly yet significantly low
intelligence tend to be bothered about not being normal, whereas
people with moderate to severe mental deficiencies seldom show worry
about being different.
I know that Alzheimers’ is not just a condition of poor memory, or at
least I have been parroting some such view for years, but only lately
have I noticed how, when you can’t remember an important fact, it is
so obvious and easy to ask someGoogle who knows, whereas the sufferer
of dementia will not even think to ask, for example, where they live
as they set off from the nursing home to return “home”. When you ask
them for the address they are heading for they can’t tell you, and
that doesn’t seem to make them wonder whether they will find the place
they are looking for.
So I want to express mild reservation that those of you vouching for
particular climbs, books, movies, etc. really know what you would find
there if you returned.
Well, I will have more to say about memory later, perhaps, and how "In
Praise of Shitty Weather" captures the kernel of the climbing
experience, if only we understood it, and the strange way that memory
turns bad times into fond recollections, but I hear the phone ringing
and that must be the President calling me about appointing the new
Minister of Climbing.
Andy C
^,,^
> So I want to express mild reservation that those of you vouching for
> particular climbs, books, movies, etc.
i much agree with your point that one's (or better still, my - for
that's all i really know) fondest memories of climbing nearly always
involve some a la carte combo from the muscle tear/pant wetting/
hyperventilation/'big'weather menu. it also has much to do with that
other remarkable intangible - who you were climbing with. i agree
also with your insight that those climbs we remember most fondly --
after they have had much time to age in the cask of our skulls -- are
in many instances climbs on which we whined and grimaced with misery
in 'real time'.
i suspect that most of my life is spent in something other than 'real
time', though what i love most about actually climbing is that it the
one domain in which i cannot help but live in 'real time'. well, ok,
there have of course been moments where i lost track of that. in
those few instances, the results have been without exception immediate
and profound. hence the quote written on my cast "i fall upon the
thorns of life..." those few immediate and profound moments have all
been 'real time' -- that, if nothing else, i can say with complete
confidence. ouch!
fwiw: the metric i was using as i contemplated my quick list of (a
couple) 'great rock climbs' was the simple natural quality of the line
itself. i should have mentioned this. this metric is something
different than the metric of those climbs that have been the location
of my favorite days out and up (at least as a i recall them today) --
that which i believe you are talking about (and rightly so). i chose
to focus solely on the inherent quality of the line in my rather ad
hoc list because that often (though hardly always) translates for
others; while the intangibles of my own personal most memorable routes
simply can't be translated into any quick check list (if it can be
translated at all).
often there is no direct correlation between these two important, yet
distinct, metrics. me, i've had especially joyous days on notably
sloppy and contrived routes; and especially miserable days on lines of
stunning inherent quality. i suspect all of us have.
your recollections of that perfect pitch on Cerberus (which i haven't
climbed, but all of the sudden really would like to at least try)
captured, to my eye, some of the best of both metrics. an excellent,
pretty, line. and one you visited with good souls amidst muscle pulls
(if not tears), pant wetting (mentally if not physically),
hyperventilation (as above), and big weather (well, big enough to
notice). in short, i see and accept your point. i trust you see
mine.
~~~
your insights into alzheimer's moved me deeply. for i have dealt with
the same end result (albeit via a range of physical causes) among too
many people i love, some family and some simply loved. the physical
pathways to those symptoms have included profound brain injury due to
a climbing fall, an aneurysm on a plane suffered by an olympic class
young athlete, and complications of outliving one's physical body.
those experiences, more than any other i have endured to date, haunt
the living shit out of me. i can comprehend this ^,,^ and the
absolutely extinct ^,,^ -- it's the middle part, the oh too common
transition that haunts me.
at present i am trying to swallow the recent realization that my
father, who i am fortunate to still have close to me (if not
physically) is just now beginning to enter that transition state. he
was midway through his 30's when i was born (it's an old irish thing),
and is as such is fast into his late 70's today. he's always been one
of my few reference standards to my personal "truly with it -- 'be
here, now' metric". it is only within recent months, mostly by phone
though on may way 'here' from yellowstone in person, that i have
recognized that his light is beginning to fade. sure, he still can
run circles around pretty much anyone. but even still, he's not the
person he was a year ago and all the years before that.
i am caught between my own selfish nightmares and my love of someone i
myself deem magnificent. either of which is quite capable of cutting
60% off the top of my daily output. in combination... oh my.
i, like my beloved father - and in large measure because of my beloved
father, am of the "drop everything and jump in and fix it" school.
this has served me well in the past, but, obviously, not now. and not
in any of the other instances of what (i think) you were talking about
on this topic your last post. hence the recurring nightmare part.
for this is clearly beyond what our species can comprehend, let alone
fix, today.
i was deeply -- _deeply_ moved when you wrote, some years ago, of your
frustration in dealing with your last moments with your father over
the howling television machine tuned into (likely) The Jerry Springer
Show (or equivalent). that post helped me to escape from my personal
hissy fit/highchair banging. and i appreciate that. a day later i
was out of "there" (and on to my next screwup...) that specific post
has been much on my mind of late. for, to date, i've yet to bury a
member of my immediate family. loved ones, certainly -- but not my
core pack. i kinda knew it was coming, but until recently pushed it
far enough away figuring that i'd grab the wrong rope or find myself
in an avalanche chute at precisely the wrong time -- and with that
rocket off into my personal extinction and not have to deal with it.
huh... perhaps i should have tried to finish that route on cholatse.
but, after much consideration, i chose not to. so i am here. and
being here, must deal with this.
billy shakespeare once wrote: "the coward dies many times before his
death, the brave die but once" (well, close, if memory serves). this
single line sustained me through my youth. but it doesn't seem to be
quite enough just now. if my father suddenly got hit by lightning, or
dropped dead on the roof, ok, that would be enough. but that horrible
transition state -- one which he recognizes surely as much as i do, is
just too much.
i don't pray to much, or for much. but i have forever prayed to all
that is sacred to me for a quick clean kill. when my day comes, take
me out of here in one long scream. just, please, don't leave me
caught in a half-life. at least not a half life i can comprehend. of
late, i am praying for two.
^,,^
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
and you wonder why RFK's own translation of Aeschylus is very much on
my mind of late
Klooch Man
pages of early Climbing magazines, I acquired LOTS of respect for him.
It could have come from that one photo-essay in which he and Jones
were seen smiling in the vicinity of most of the hardest known U.S.
short rock climbs of the time. Even today when I look in our list of
local physicians and see that one of them is Mark Hudon I can't help
believing that he must be one hellavun' MD. The effect is strong
enough that it took 3 years of occasionally perusing that list to
notice that the name of the local doc is actually Marck.
It might be nice to be able to trust my own brain more. Or it might
not be so nice. There is a strain of thought which says that the few
people who experience existence at the highest attainable level of
objectivity are in danger of becoming filled with pain. As differing
expressions of this, Raymond Smullyan offers as examples the writers
Leopardi and Unamuno and the philosophers Arthur Schopenhauer and
Eduard von Hartmann. Smullyan defines essential pessimism as the
belief that life must be predominantly painful under even the best of
circumstances while contingent pessimists believe that life is painful
but not necessarily so.
But, people being what they are, even most of the really smart folks
who examine humanity under the cold light of pure reason can't help
feeling a sneaking pride and pleasure in their own comprehension of
the bleakness which a lot of us miss.
Von Hartmann avoids that. He takes essential pessimism to what may be
its logical conclusion: suicide. Not an individual suicide, however.
Von Hartman believes we are all but limbs of a single tree, in
Smullyan's words, or a collective unconscious in von Hartmann's. Even
if everyone committed suicide it would not solve the general problem
because the collective unconscious that humans dimly perceive would
find a new expression in the course of evolution and the suffering
would return.
As a course of action for the individual, von Hartmann says that we
should develop science and cooperate with progress as much as
possible, not to improve our condition but to achieve the ultimate
goal of evolution which is to find a means to kill all life on the
planet permanently. Global suicide.
Smullyan asks wouldn't it be funny is von Hartmann was right?
I think the whole notion *is* funny and thought there was no way we
could exterminate everything, but I got a different kind of funny
feeling when parts of the media lately talked about the chance of the
supercollider producing a mini black hole. Maybe we will get there,
one day.
Pain may have been an early development on the road to memory.
Jellyfish are not at all simple but they can be used in lieu of better
examples. They have sensory neurons and they can move. They can
withdraw from a painful stimulus. Long ago, that might have been state
of the art behavior. Nowadays our comparatively gigantic nervous
systems remember pain, what caused it, predict its return before it
arrives, and develop ingenious strategies to avoid it.
So why aren't all climbers found on sunny rock at low elevations?
Don't ask me. Clearly we *don't* understand the situation. There are
probably a few who do but they aren't going to tell me anymore than
Albert Einstein would have gone around knocking on doors to explain
Relativity to housewives. Although my father-in-law liked to say that
if you couldn't explain a thing to your grandmother, then you didn't
really understand it yourself.
What we have to go on are assumptions, guesses, ad hoc strategies, and
the wonderful inexplicable ability to share and learn from the
experiences of others.
Especially Mom and Dad.
They don't last forever but they usually hold up pretty well.
When you think about all the shoes, shirts, pants, and other clothes
that you have outworn, and even large pieces of metal like cars last
only a few years in a working state, and all the proteins in your body
turn over regularly (though tendon takes nearly forever), it is
striking how your personality persists. Your real self must live in
your brain and only there, in the physical world which is the only
world we know. Yet despite having to learn the capitals of all the
states, the theme songs of a zillion TV shows, how to tie shoelaces
and do up zippers and buttons, in short how to do everything that a
newborn can't, a person seems to be born *as* a person, not as an
empty vessel. There is a precious unique core to everyone.
The surprise is not that the personality may go before the body does,
but that it stays for so long through so many other changes.
When my Dad had a roommate in the nursing home the roomie's TV was
always tuned to and turned on 24 hours to a channel less demanding on
the intellect than Jerry Springer. It was a channel I don't know the
name of. Call it the nostalgia channel. It shows Leave It To Beaver,
Bonanza, I Love Lucy, and so on. Good stuff once, and perhaps again.
It didn't bother my Dad because even at 92 he was immune to
distraction. It didn't bother me because I turned it off. It did
bother my Mom and so we took it up with the powers-that-were. Their
position was that TV watching is a right, perhaps in the Constitution.
So we used the universal remote, but sparingly, mostly when the other
guy was asleep.
So it seems a little ironic, almost, to be reminiscing about Mark
Hudon, etc. We will be letting go eventually whether we want to or
not.
And it seems oddly coincidental that I have just been directed to a
SuperTopo thread on Squamish climbing in the 70s, and there came
across another thread on Gunks hagiography.
I am embarrassed to say I may have been sucked in.
Good company, though. The Squamish thread includes an artistically
monikered contributor who signs off as Sue.
ant
> better yet, feed me with your own top five of pretty much anything
> worth counting. ok, your top five of something of your top five of
> everything.
top five hot sauces. sriracha rooster, sriracha rooster (it takes top
two spots, its that good), taco bell 'fire' sauce, last two spots
taken by whatever has the most heat on the market. tabasco not on the
list.
top five things to climb near mexico city.. to be decided. im looking
for beta.
^,,^
good to hear from you. it finally dawned on me what you were doing in
tuolumne. well done. would make an especially interesting post if
you were inspired to write
about what you saw and learned.
i had these recurring wet dreams of flying out there and trying to do
the NIAD late in the summer. i thought of you as a potential
partner. but the suits and their
schedules got in the way. when i finally escaped i just went
wandering and fishing. but upon consideration, this was almost
certainly for the better, as languishing in DC didn't leave me in
anywhere near the climbing shape required. i once did it in about 30
hours and i'm rather certain that's the fastest i could ever do,
surely faster than i could hope to do today.
~~~
> top five hot sauces.
> sriracha rooster, sriracha rooster (it takes top two spots, its that good),
i agree that sri racha sauces are _really_ good. not stupid hot, and
the garlic adds a lot. i have a friend who makes her own, and i find
it especially excellent. it makes my standard fare of canned tuna
(or dolphin, or whatever comes in those cans) on rice or a tortilla
taste almost like actual food. if you have access to a food
processor and some asian markets, i recommend you try making your own
'just so' variant. i'll ask my pal for her recipe and send it to you
-- perhaps a good place to start.
> taco bell 'fire' sauce,
huh?
> last two spots taken by whatever has the most heat on
> the market. tabasco not on the list.
i have friends who could use a 12 step intervention on this front.
one of my brothers is one of them (never eat anything he cooks before
you witness a sane person try it -- and survive -- first). so is my
pal and long time climbing partner 'B'. he's been a vegitarian since
his mid teens. well, no meat or eggs. i'd guess he's a lactarian
(plenty of milk and cheese), but that is for him to say. i will note
that now even in his 40's he is the fittest person i have ever met.
posolutely ripped.
anyway, i asked them both and they came up with the following as
candidates for the "most heat on the market" list. those few i've
endured were absolutely brutal, insanely hot, and simply stupid:
_Ass in the Tub Special Reserve Armageddon
_Blair's Sudden Death Sauce
_Crazy Jerry's Brain Damage Hot Sauce
_Liquid Stoopid Hot Sauce
_Crazy Mother Pucker's Liquid Lava Sauce
_Da' Bomb The Final Answer
_357 Mad Dog Hot Sauce
(that's more than 5, but i then asked 2 people for 5...)
the last two are especially insane. a couple drops iof Da Bomb in a
large pot of vension chile will leave you screaming for oxygen,
Preparation H, and an ice pack. i know this from personal
experience. truly stupid.
> top five things to climb near mexico city.. to be
> decided. im looking for beta.
i have no idea, as i've never tried. my pal 'B' has done Orizaba and
Iztaccihuatl. i'll ask him and send anything of use to you direct.
do take care, 'there'. i know a couple people who have hurt
themselves rather notably 'there' (altitude issues). i'm confident
that you have both the training and the smarts to avoid such stuff.
yet so many make the easy mistake of flying in from near sea level and
ending up at 17k' in a couple days. this is one of the reasons that i
never fly into khumbu any closer than phaplu -- starting there one
can't help but acclimatize. gokyo village is 15.5k'
i noticed on your other post (re: boots and beta) that you're
wondering how stiff Secor's idea of class 3 is. as above, i have
absolutely no idea. though i suspect that this means you perhaps plan
to solo it/them. if so, i'd urge you to think at least twice before
pushing your personal max altitude alone. for there is a part of big
altitude that is simply beyond being very fit and very skilled. that
part is almost surely genetics (ask our sister Sue, perhaps she
knows. I don't,) recent olympic marathoners have died in labouche
(well below everest's kali pattar). on my first trip to nepal ('83),
i watched earl wiggins nearly die from HAPE and he max'edout around
17k'. and wiggins was absolutely ripped and super fit. there are
such intangables.
eat a ton of garlic (a vaso-dialator) drink gallons of water, and take
a few easily reversible test cruises check out your personal system.
to to date, this has worked for me.
YMM(of course)V...
canis fidelus est,
^,,^
ant
> good to hear from you. it finally dawned on me what you were doing in
> tuolumne. well done. would make an especially interesting post if
> you were inspired to write
> about what you saw and learned.
honestly, i learned a lot more about things that dont translate well
to gripping usenet posts. had a damn good three seasons, but not sure
where i go from here.
> i had these recurring wet dreams of flying out there and trying to do
> the NIAD late in the summer. i thought of you as a potential
> partner.
i too would like to make a run up that puppy one day. however, though
you might not suspect, i was not in respectable in-a-push shape either
this summer. particularly since ive only been up the first four or
five pitches (before i bailed with the haulbag and a relocated
shoulder. passing knots with 95 lbs and one arm. awesome.). i like to
stack my odds, and they just werent stacked this season. put me on the
shortlist for the future effort, though. or i could stand in the
meadows and take photos. one day..
> > taco bell 'fire' sauce,
>
> huh?
sticking to my guns here. for all-around hot sauce ill stick to
sriracha (and if one day you found the recipe id love to see it), but
i find the taco bell fire (their hottest version) an excellent
flavored sauce. less heat. probably a little MSG. but who's counting?
problem is it comes in tiny little packets. from taco bell.
> i have friends who could use a 12 step intervention on this front.
> one of my brothers is one of them (never eat anything he cooks before
> you witness a sane person try it -- and survive -- first).
i like it fiery, myself, and have to be very careful cooking for
folks. even when i think im making it tame.. well.
this definitely made one semi-date fairly memorable, though id prefer
to forget it.
> i'd urge you to think at least twice before
> pushing your personal max altitude alone. for there is a part of big
> altitude that is simply beyond being very fit and very skilled.
fair enough. youll be happy to know im pretty conservative in these
things, and i suspect most folks believe i cross all the t's. maybe
makes me a little boring, but i made it this far. plus, there's no way
i just took all those pre-med courses just to stop breathing on a mexi
volcano.
anyways, i was also interested in spray about nice things to scramble
in mexico that arent the big volcanoes. that, and its nice to talk
about hot sauce.
hot sauce,
anthony
^,,^
likely the best post i've read on this news group to date. he wrote,
in part:
> But, people being what they are, even most of the really smart folks
> who examine humanity under the cold light of pure reason can't help
> feeling a sneaking pride and pleasure in their own comprehension of
> the bleakness which a lot of us miss.
ummmm.... me, i believe that humanity has rather little to do with
pure reason. and i believe that is a good thing. it is why i like
your species so, why i am forever drawn to them. yeah, sure, some of
the most profound among your species has on occasion dared to try to
define pure reason. and they did a remarkably good job of it -- well,
they came up with stuff at the very limit of what i can personally
wrap my small head around. but in the end, i suspect that that
silliness simply explains itself. we (ok, you all) 'get it' -- to the
extent that you all can 'get it' -- just now. and with that, you/
they/us all declare it 'got'. well, until the next decade of nobel
lauretes.. then it becomes what? 'more got?'
bwaaahaaahaaa... [tm-our brother Lupo]. ok, Lupo and my species. be
here, now. dogs and the Masi are good at that. as for your species,
i often wonder...
~~~~
> Smullyan asks wouldn't it be funny is von Hartmann was right?
good for brother Smullyan. for he captured the humanity part (as i
see it). pure reason would simply demolish, in pure binary code, any
entity who would dare challenge it. pure reason doesn't need your
species; it most certainly doesn't need me.
me, i'd throw Tenzin Gyatso into the mix. he's the 14th and current
Dalai Lama. i'd actually prefer his predecessor, Lama Dhanjzo, who
wrote (and i long ago quoted 'here' -- on May 6, 2003 -- one of my
first posts, 'here'):
"Walk joyously though this world of sorrows"
or better still the japanese bhuddist saint, Bansato. he, along with
his sister Hildegaard of Bingem, are to my small eye the masterpieces,
to date, of your species. (this list excludes those defined as gods,
like Jesus and Siddhartha Gotma, i walk a wide and respectful circle
around them).
Bansato wrote:
"Love is the target; compassion the arrow; empathy the bow."
me, i believe that much time spent contemplating the difference
between love, compassion, and empathy is time very well spent. well,
so says your faithful dog. how about this: in the end it doesn't
especially matter if you hit the target -- though it does matter a lot
that you try. compassion is the engine room, the bow, what makes it
work. and emapthy is the core magic of it all.
i think that in the presence of Bansato, Von Hartman and Smullyan
would implode. that or simply kneel.
i restate my small premise: pure logic has nothing to do with your
species. pure logic doesn't need your species. you might want to
conside this before you 'pull a Von Hartman'...
~~~
> Pain may have been an early development on the road to memory.
> Jellyfish are not at all simple but they can be used in lieu of better
> examples. They have sensory neurons and they can move. They can
> withdraw from a painful stimulus. Long ago, that might have been state
> of the art behavior. Nowadays our comparatively gigantic nervous
> systems remember pain, what caused it, predict its return before it
> arrives, and develop ingenious strategies to avoid it.
pretty damned near perfect. as such, i won't dare respond. i'll only
note that i've E'ed this to many i care most about. thanks.
> What we have to go on are assumptions, guesses, ad hoc strategies, and
> the wonderful inexplicable ability to share and learn from the
> experiences of others.
one of the few breathes of actual oxygen i inhaled of late is lunch
with a pal where i work (lost among the suits). he is a very junior
banana (among the mighty suits), as am i. and he is duking it out
with a brutal addiction that nearly killed him (hence my recent
reference to a 12 step intervention among the hot sauce addicts close
to me). our topic of late has been the difference between theists,
atheists, and agnostics. he is the former, me the middle, and our
focus has of late been on the latter. my position on this is that
agnosticism has no place on the theist -- atheist gray scale. for
that is a scale of faith. you believe in the one end, or the other
end, or somewhere in between. but that is about faith. for there is
surely no 'knowable" evidence that either end of that spectrum is
correct. to my mind, that is entirely the point. for that is the
very definition of faith. it is, at root, a guess. i don;t say that
to demean faith -- quite the opposite. i do it to better define
faith. for that guess is likely the most profound thing your species
does. it is one of the few precious things that define humanity.
"Moby Dick" helped me (and massively) understand this. take examples
of every broken faith that you can comprehend (being a relatively
parochial young guy in a tiny town in 1840's massachusetts) -- then
put them all on the petri dish of a whaling boat under the hot sun,
for years. and see what you get. why do peleg and bildad argue so
about what is best for the eternal soul of young Ishmael -- especially
as they are pals and both claim to be of the same faith. that starts
it all, and it only gets more intense. pip the catholic, queequeg the
aboriginal, fedallah the zoroastrian...
odd that so many people think moby dick is a children's story. that
and gulliver's travels. two of the most profound, dangerous, and
radical books ever written -- certainly in their day. melville would
have ended up in a new england insane asylum for simply daring to use
the word 'atheism'. swift would have endured even worse if he had
dared to say what he wanted to say straight out. there is a reason he
ended up in northern ireland... and yet so many among us see these
books as childrens' bedtime tales. mindblowing...
why is it that late in the novel ahab has himself hauled up the
mainmast in pretty much a bucket, looks off in the direction of his
far off wife and child in nantucket, then returns to the deck in tears
saying to all the crew, effectively, 'this hunt for the white whale is
maddness. it will kill us all. i want to see my wife and child
again. let's go home.' and his crew says, what. they say,
effectively, 'oh no, dude, you told us that faith was broken and
complete crap, that what we need to do is simply "punch through the
pasteboard mask" of what looks like a whale and in that moment render
faith obsolete -- for in that moment we will know -- we will see
whether there is a god, whether that god cares about us, and what that
god wants of us'. and so off they go. and as ahab said (if memory
serves) "my one small wheel fits within all their many cogs and we
revolve like some massive machine". in
the end, ahab gave them exactly what he promised. he took them beyond
the realm of faith. he killed them all. (ok, all save ishmael --
that simply a narrative necessity). and with that they 'knew'
~~~
i had lunch with my new pal just today, and the topic of our
conversation turned to what it always turns to: agnostics. now
having put myself deeply into debt (even in the very cheapest seats it
cost me, oh, US$70k) learning about words, i know that 'agnostic'
comes from the greek a- ("without" - as in a-moral) and gnosis - the
greek word that specifically means knowledge, that which is knowable.
so a-gnosis means without knowledge. today at lunch with my pal i
reminded him of my belief that every mortal soul ever yet born was by
definition a-gnostic. for that is the very definition of faith. that
is why there is no 'church of the sun rises in the east' -- for it
does and (thanks to the help of the best 'pure logic' human minds, we
know why). nor are there any churches devoted to gravity, at least
here on the surface of this planet. if you can find the 'church of if
i drop my coffee mug just now it might not hit the ground' -- well,
let me know.
me, personally, i have problems with the 'agnostics'. of course you
are an agnostic -- we all are, you dope. but what do you believe? to
my small dog brain, simply ending the endless search with "um, i
dunno" simply doesn't cut it. of course you 'dunno' -- you're human.
sheesh. pick something, anything, and live your life accordingly.
pick your best guess, think about what that guess demands of you, then
do it. 'i dunno' just doesn't cut it.
~~~
well, that is my answer to Smullyan and Von Hartman's debate, which
you pose so well. a schmerter dog coulda done it in far fewer words,
but i'm not schmert. bansato said it in, what, 10 words. dhanjzo
said it in just 7 words.
i think this topic is the ultimate TR. climbs offer us joy, misery,
and on occasion, insight. but the simple question of "ok, now what?"
offers the ultimate TR.
no?
^,,^
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
> it seems oddly coincidental that I have just been directed to a
> SuperTopo thread on Squamish climbing in the 70s
outstanding thread, thanks for sending me to it. i'm having a ball
reading it. i find it stunning that the area wasn't protected until,
what, the early 90's? sheesh. so on my first 4 or 5 trips there, we
were camping in what? someone's backyard? remarkable. do you know
of a good (brief -- ie, the opposite of me) source on the history of
the ownership and (park-ish) protection of this magnificent mecca?
Al Black
> me, i'd throw Tenzin Gyatso into the mix. he's the 14th and current
> Dalai Lama. i'd actually prefer his predecessor, Lama Dhanjzo, who
> wrote (and i long ago quoted 'here' -- on May 6, 2003 -- one of my first
> posts, 'here'):
>
> "Walk joyously though this world of sorrows"
>
> or better still the japanese bhuddist saint, Bansato.
Hmmm, but not Dogen Zenji?
al
Klooch Man
^,,^ wrote:
> pick something, anything, and live your life accordingly.
> pick your best guess, think about what that guess demands of you, then
> do it.
Amen to that, brother.
My best guess is that the world can get along fine without me and I
live my life accordingly.
I am not going to put my shoulder to the stone of religion, for
example. It ain't gonna budge.
To be a little more fair to Raymond Smullyan, though, I intended to
represent in a previous post only what he had to say about others'
views. He himself makes excellent use of reason, coming at it from a
background of mathematical logic and coming at that from a previous
background in magic. In briefly discussing, in highly readable manner,
others' views on Big Questions, Smullyan says, "My favorite writers of
all (on this as well as many other matters) are the Taoists such as
Laotse, Liehtse, and Chuangtse. They give neither analogy nor any
rational explanations whatsoever! In total defiance of all logic, they
soar their merry way upward like birds in free flight."
To those who find they can't get along at a remove from everyone and
everything else, I recommend the ethic of reciprocity, tit for tat,
the golden rule but not in any specific form, a lesson learned and re-
learned: Wealth in Kwakwaka'wakw culture was determined not by what
you had amassed to keep, but by what you had to give away.
I recently gave away 2 old guidebooks on rock-climbing in Washington
state to one guy, and a handful of old cam units to another guy. The
second guy is threatening to pay me and the first guy threatened me
with something called "karma". I hope the payback isn't out of
proportion to the deed.
Somebody else I climbed with this summer talked about "dharma". I
didn't get the clearest picture of what that was, but it sounded
vaguely threatening, also.
I am sure that the greatest heat on the market would be capsaicin from
Sigma Pharmaceuticals. I was all excited that in this great age of the
computer I could just order it on-line, and maybe a little sea nettle
toxin, too, or a lifetime supply of that puffer-fish stuff, but sad to
say you can't even peruse their excellent catalogue. The millenium is
a long time coming.
If you do get hold of capsaicin, mobilize it in a little alcohol
before tasting; it is too hydrophobic to dissolve directly in water.
It takes less than 1 millimolar to block nerve conduction (an
unpublished result from the days at U of W Anesthesiology) and there
are many other benefits such as causing apoptosis in cancer cells.
According to Wikipedia it opens heat-activated calcium channels. That
might explain the Raynaud's I get on an almost daily schedule, now,
but a little less often since stopping the sauna visits a couple
months ago. Damn heat-activated calcium channels. Wonder what their
half-life is? Time for them to soar upward like birds in merry flight.
> do you know
> of a good (brief -- ie, the opposite of me) source on the history of
> the ownership and (park-ish) protection of this magnificent mecca?
Anders Ourom the historian Mighty Hiker on Supertopo and former
chairman of the local access society.
^,,^
>> i'd urge you to think at least twice before pushing
>> your personal max altitude alone. for there is a part of big
>> altitude that is simply beyond being very fit and very skilled.
the mighty (and in this sole instance, singular) ant wrote, in small
part:
> youll be happy to know im pretty conservative in these things, and i
> suspect most folks believe i cross all the t's.
i apologize for sounding like my great aunt margaret on this front.
you understand what you're looking at; do it. i always did -- much to
the dismay of the mighty margaret (the original 'maggie'). that said,
i once, long ago, witnessed my remarkable great aunt maggie leap over
a bonfire that roared up to at least my (to date useless) nipples.
this in the (very) rural (very) western edge of ireland, on samhain.
she handed her 4-pronged cane off to a great-great(-great?) neice,
then all but stopped my heart. me, i'm thinking 'payback' -- for i
always sent her postcards. that and i was the first soul she gleared
at when she actually survived it. at this moment i am struck bt the
memory of what they called her. Banseata(sp?) which in irish gaelic
means, um, something like wise and magic woman. what brings it to
mind is that it is pronounced exactly like 'bansato'. i'm looping
here. lucky me.
> maybe makes me a little boring, but i made it this far.
"I'm immortal, so far." -- Earl Robinson (b:1910, d:1991).
well, 81 years is no small thing. shoot for that.
> plus, there's no way i just took all those pre-med courses just to
> stop breathing on a mexi volcano.
um, dude... i took all of those pre-med courses too. even spent a
semester at med school (before i realized i couldn't begin to afford
it; that it would cost me almost everything i then thought i needed to
try; and that i had spent too many months chewing my tongue out trying
to deal with the 60% of my classmates who were, um, solipsistic
shits. though, in fairness, 10% of my peers were truly remarkable
souls and the remaining 30% were just souls almost kinda like me).
so, while i grant your core point (already have, see far above ) -- in
my own small mind this specific argument quick collapses unto
itself.
great, i am now channeling my great aunt margaret, yet again. well, i
could do worse, far worse. that and she jumped through flames that
were over her head -- and in a great (ie, vast) skirt that covered
absolutely all of her ankles. at an age that almost certainly exceded
81.
so, umm, consider doing what is left of the snow on mexico's highest
in a great vast skirt. that's skirt, not sarong. take a camera.
~~~
our excellent brother Al wrote, in small part:
> Hmmm, but not Dogen Zenji?
it would take a monk to keep all of those monks straight. i'm no
monk.
me, i especially like bansato as half of his contemporaries (that we
know of) thought he was a complete moron. the other half thought he
was no less than a living boddisatva. how perfect. he was the
village idiot who the local monks employed as a gardner. he is said
to have achieved nirvahna while taking a poop. this gives even me
hope, as even i can do that form of sitting zazen. when the master of
the monestary "choose to pass" he named bansato as his successor.
this caused a riot among the master's many learned leftenants (i like
to think of them as the "suits" of his day).
outstanding to hear you. so what are you up to at present, my
brother?
^,,^
Al Black
> so, umm, consider doing what is left of the snow on mexico's highest in
> a great vast skirt. that's skirt, not sarong. take a camera. ~~~
That'd be one that would make me smile.
> our excellent brother Al wrote, in small part:
>
>> Hmmm, but not Dogen Zenji?
>
> it would take a monk to keep all of those monks straight. i'm no monk.
> me, i especially like bansato as half of his contemporaries (that we
> know of) thought he was a complete moron. the other half thought he was
> no less than a living boddisatva.
Makes me smile to no end too. Dogen makes me smile for an equally direct
reason. He narrowly missed aristocracy because he had a question, "Why
if we are already enlightened, do we have to seek enlightenment and take
part in spiritual practice?" Once he had an answer he went to kyoto set
up a temple and pissed everyone off with his idea that simply practising
was enlightenment. (It certainly cut down on and mocked the funeral
business.) Google him, and Brad Warner... Proper posture and all.
It appeals to my just climbing is climbing ethos.
Speaking of looping about, I've been thinking about the theism
discussion. You know there's a different, I'm not sure orthogonal
continuum, that somehow intersects the theistic to atheist. Its the
don't really care continuum. Its never really struck me as really
question.
> outstanding to hear you. so what are you up to at present, my brother?
Making squiggles on the computer! Shoulder season, so I'm mostly
planning, planning my obsessions. Some early ice is around, the snow is
starting to fall. You know I live in buffet of things to do. So I think
this is the year I'm going to commit to the "climb once every month
locally, ski once every month locally for a year" project. The trip
reports should make Kellie laugh...
There are also around 75 or so skis in the shop that need to be mounted
and waxed.
You? You planning to get at it?
al
^,,^
> You? You planning to get at it?
ummm, kinda depends on how you define "it" ...
~~~
your reference to the pile of skiis at the shop brought to mind
something i'd rather wish now i had rather realized before the fact.
either that or not at all. over the last, oh, six weeks or so i have
spent simply stupid cash on a pair of fischer carbonlites (07 model,
"slightly used") -- for, uuuhh, well surely more than i paid for my
first 4 or 5 pairs of xc boards. that and they're 187cm. i'm tall
enough, but i suspect i'm not strong enough. ideally i could have
found a pair of 182cm for less than $500, but no such luck, that and
i also spent almost 3 times that for a 'low mileage' anschutz 1827
biathalon rig with a custum carbon fiber/metal skeletal stock. alas
made for someone without a neck. well, without my geek neck. but
given it is at least 3lbs less than what my (momentary) advisaries are
hauling (out there, just then), a careful wad of duck tape and
ensolite will do.
in all, i spent enough for 6 months in the bronze age, easy. on
stuff. silly stuff. goofy guy gear that is surely the antithesis of
the bronze age. i just now realized this -- amd with this all of the
sudden feel all empty and stupid. what was i thinking? that i'd show
up for the citizen races at soldiers hollow with no more than at best
a day or two on actual skiis (this season) -- and with that, what?
be saved from much deserved humiliation by $1200 worth of fancy guy
gear that most genuine dirtbag athletes can't hope to afford? yeah,
that'll work. sheesh. bad enough to have your lungs and thighs
handed to you -- been there, done that. but getting smacked with the
same with all manner of biathlon jewelry hanging off you... arghhh.
this will surely suck. i'll be sure to post my certain humiliation.
this train of thought brings to mind what our Lord Slime wrote here
not all that very long ago -- last summer (well, the now other last
summer) or so. yeah, if only one had the cash for unobtainium biners
and impossalite slings, one could reduce their rack weight by, oh
whatever, and in that climb what they could not climb with standard
dirtbag fare. at the time i railed against this. (politely, i hope).
since then i have clearly fallen, and face first, into this swamp, and
rather massively.
DHOPE!
~~~
biathlon is a screech. i much recommend it. i certainly recommend it
to those who aspire to big altitude routes -- as it might get that out
of your system long before you hurt yourself -- well, at least before
you hurt yourself permanently and forever.
you simply show up on saturday morning just after sunrise. then you
sprint as fast as you can (on skinny skiis) for 15 or 20km (depends on
where exactly you stick you head in the noose. for my fellow
amerikanskis, 15 or 20km translates to something on the order of 7+ or
12+ miles.) and after sprinting forever you're wheezing like an
asmatic and coughing up all manner of precious internal organs when
all of the sudden you are required to stop and quick fire off 5 rounds
from that heavy '22 caliber anchor you've had strapped to your back.
this at a target the size of a golf ball at 50m (amerikanski: 150+
feet) while prone (amerikanski: lying down); or, or mercifully - kinda
- a target about the size of a softball while attempting to still
actually stand up.
sound easy? by all means, do try it, at least once -- and in a
crowd. here's a hint: the prone position is the easier of the two
shooting positions -- as most everybody can and will fall down prone
at that point. it's just the raising your head out of the snow,
pulling that weighty anchor off your back, and actually steadying it
long enough to have even a remote chance of hitting the golfball part
that proves surprisingly hard. the standing shots, well, there is a
reason they chose to limit the firepower to a '22 LR round -- that and
one shot at a time in a manual bolt action -- as you can only do so
much damage. yeah, you'll likely only shoot yourself in the foot once
-- this perhaps before you cough your fookin' heart and lungs out all
at once, and with that mercifully drop dead. if perchance you survive
this, you get to hurt yourself still more (you're only a quarter of
the way 'home'). and all the while contemplate (to the extent you can
contemplate anything) that you not only volunteered for this abuse,
but also paid an entry fee for it. well, if you do actually survive
you get a cheap PRC made t-shirt that will shrink to the size of a
pillow case if you dare attempt to wash it. hence my collection of
pillow cases the little arms on them.
and we wonder why the bho tiya (and their many peers throughout the
bronze age), while always truly hospitable, do tend to smirk at us.
of course, their word for such a massive capillary blowout is, well,
something like "yesterday"
~~~
i like biathlon as it is even more inherently stupid than climbing.
when the twerps (and suits) goof on me about climbing, me, as i listen
to them, am forever thinking to my own fool self "oh dude/ette, you
are surely right -- you surely need to try biathlon..."
me, in my small world i am at present in the 'golden sunset' phase. a
couple years ago i suddenly went from being late 30 something and
getting my lungs handed to me (yet again) as i tried to keep up with
the 22 year old VO2max gods with the hydraulic thighs -- to suddenly
being the 'master of the masters'. that was fun, made me feel like a
kid again. and the far more master masters stood back and gave me my
brief moment. bless their mighty souls. but of late they are all
beginning to smile funny at me (kinda like my bho tiya pals...) i
suspect that my come'uppance is coming, and soon, and massively. but
i'd like to be at least competetive for another year or so. for i am
rather good at puking and shooting all at the same time -- practice
makes perfect. and it is hard practice, at least on saturdays. for
if you don't tag all 5 in a row, you are awarded a 150m penalty lap
(per fookup). time to wheeze and hook and mock your own fool self
while the sly old droopy butts who can actually shoot straight without
any discernable oxygen in their brains all go cruising off down the
trail, all in clear view as you do endless loops. how very, uh, irish
catholic...
for those of you in arid climates, and for the rest of us most of the
time, there are enough 'summer biathlons' that you can surely find one
within weekend range if you look. in this case you are spared the ski
up your ass part, you just run a lot. downside is that when you
faceplant (and you will) into the prone position, you hit your
forehead on a dusty rock rather than snow. in the end, le meme chose,
pretty much a wash.
~~~
of late i have learned -- hard and all at once -- that training by
running (see: summer biathlon, above) down along the stinky potomic
with a rifle strapped to your back, even just after dawn, is a very,
very bad idea. this even if said rifle has the bolt clearly removed
and a huge orange zip tie all up through and around the fay pea-
shooter '22 single shot barrel. don't ever try this -- at least not
in dc. ever. trust me on this, if nothing else. it might work out
just fine in rural western MT, but not here in dc. sheesh. and yeah,
i get it -- should have gotten it long before the fact. ooopsy. mea
culpa. sheesh...
~~~
well, like i said, Al, define "it"
canis fidelus est,
^,,^
David Kastrup
> i like biathlon as it is even more inherently stupid than climbing.
Don't make me jealous.
--
David Kastrup, Kriemhildstr. 15, 44793 Bochum
kelli...@gmail.com
>
> Making squiggles on the computer! Shoulder season, so I'm mostly
> planning, planning my obsessions. Some early ice is around, the snow is
> starting to fall. You know I live in buffet of things to do. So I think
> this is the year I'm going to commit to the "climb once every month
> locally, ski once every month locally for a year" project. The trip
> reports should make Kellie laugh...
>
Yes please!! I can always use a laugh, especially now that I'm no
longer on the Central American beaches stunning the local with my
horrendous spanish and yet winter has disappointinly not set in. Ullr
is not being good to us NW denizens yet this year. And no ice either;
I'm jealous of your ice, I am. I missed all the ice last year and I'm
not going to let it happen again this year. If nothing else, I now
know a guy who lives in Maine....
biathalon sounds horrible, btw. Although if I could have a shotgun
and go at my own (glacially slow) pace it might be fun.
Simon Isbister
"ant" <dummya...@electricant.net> wrote in message
news:050c85d2-2b80-4306...@1g2000prd.googlegroups.com...
>
> sticking to my guns here. for all-around hot sauce ill stick to
> sriracha (and if one day you found the recipe id love to see it), but
> i find the taco bell fire (their hottest version) an excellent
> flavored sauce. less heat. probably a little MSG. but who's counting?
> problem is it comes in tiny little packets. from taco bell.
Ahh, it warms my heart to see such activity on old wreck.climbing. Its been
said in recent years that while the amount of intelligence on the (use) net
is a constant, the population is growing exponentially. Here, we seem to
have the reverse in effect; the constant level of intelligence, provided by
an ever distilled population.
I can take neither credit nor responsibility for either category, having
focused more on changing diapers over the past 4 months than on climbing.
So, while I've been lurking the odd time, I haven't had much to say. But,
hot-sauce... now there is a topic I can dig into! My pantry typically
includes a good supply of sriracha, but lately, I've also been working on a
bottle of Fear Itself (and before that was some Acid Rain).
Last year, some colleagues embarked on an eating challenge; the small group,
who all reside in downtown Vancouver, held a race to see who could fill the
most "frequent eater cards" from the Noodle Box, a Vancouver/Victoria spicy
Thai food place. All semester, we watched as the stamps piled up on the
cards, and the leftovers showed up in the staff-room for lunches. Finally,
the event was wrapped up with a spice-off, as all the participants met at
the Kits location for lunch, and requested the absolute hottest noodle box
that the cooks could manage to prepare.
They knew they were in trouble when they could hear laughter coming from the
kitchen. Shortly, cooks had to start taking breaks, their sinuses unable to
tolerate the airborne oils emanating off the dishes. Tears streaming down
their cheeks, they struggled to plate their masterpieces, but finally
produced plates of Thai noodles, red with capsaicin oils. I'll spare the
details of the sinus clearing war of attrition which followed, but the next
day, many students could be heard asking why their math teacher smelled
funny.
This year, we tried to recapture the magic of the spice off with an
afternoon at Wing Nuts, a chicken wing joint on Main. Though they were hot,
we all agreed they were decidedly "white-guy hot", when were looking for
something a bit more ethnic. Unable to truly recreate the absolute heat of
the Noodle Box, the event turned into more of a eating contest than an
exercise in spice-survival. Nonetheless, I can confirm that 30 xxxtra hot
wings are just as hot on the way out as they are on the way in.
I've already started negotiations with our local Indian joint, to see if the
chef would be willing to prepare a series of successively hotter dishes in
small portions, to weed out the weak, and to crown a true champion in
Spice-Off, Part III.
Now, is there any way I can legitimize any of this as climbing-specific
training?
Regards,
-s-