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Blah blah. More folks yapping on the public dime.
There is NO WAY anybody can predict anything around here more than three days out -- and half the time, not even then. God just loves to mess with our computer models.
Skunk Cabbage, wooly caterpillars, the Farmer's Almanac -- numerology or dice would be just as accurate. Or biorhythms, based on date of incorporation.
Our record year to date was supposed to be a La Nina winter, drier than normal; the opening was delayed two weeks that year, for lack of snow.
And the LAST thing I want to hear is "two feet tonight" -- an automatic jinx -- see how many times THAT pans out.
It is in this spirit, that I ask you to join me in my reverse-psychology, un-jinx chant:
MORE SUN!! MORE SUN!!
1:12 a.m. -- should read "alleged" culprits.
6:19 p.m. -- Hell, that's how I ended up here. No repair vouchers. Tell the guy I know where there's a shed he can crash in.
They like it better if you blow the smoke in their ear or nose. Then you'll have a Buddy Bear. You can scratch 'em behind the ears, on the tummy...
So did you use ropes etc on any of them, Ben? Regardless, my hat's off to YOU!!
PS -- Lately I'm making money, sitting on my couch. Not a shrink, nor a gigolo, nor a drug dealer...
I guess the north face of Uncompaghre has never been climbed, even technically -- just too crumbly. South side is a walkup. I never did ropes and pitons (or whatever they've got these days) was never that serious about it, had other things to spend my money on. Had a roommate who did, that and ice, Search & Rescue, he had the time.
Those times I did find myself around some interesting rocks, other than Long's, which we intended, it was spontaneous, hence, no equipment. I can remember climbing myself into a fix more than once -- seven or eight times, at least -- where I HAD to make this leap, and catch myself -- or die.
I made every one, obviously... and how STUPID. Even on the Keyhole route, there were places that required great attention.
One night, back in the '70's -- while it was still off-limits for concerts because the damn hippies broke laws -- and soon after boot camp, me in my combat boots -- we climbed Shiprock at Red Rocks, also illegal. I brag about it now, but my little brother's friend ran circles around us, in loafers and no socks. There are actually steps carved in the rock, on the big slope facing Denver.
Did I mention I have a touch of acrophobia? I feel myself falling, even when I'm not. Heights scare me. I was on all fours across Devil's Causeway, and again, my friend was dancing and laughing around me.
Yeah, give me a nice cool river...
You really want to shoot a bear, don't you, Mark? Ya get a Merit Badge for that?
PS -- I have to my left a signed copy of George Crouter's famous photo essay "The Majestic Fourteeners... COLORADO'S HIGHEST" which lists 53 fourteeners, with four additional, all over 14, but "considered part of" a higher mountain, technically classified as part of the same mountain, because the saddle between them is less than 500' deep. So semantics and definitions play into the numbers.
Sort of like Ski Corp marketing: I've seen it claimed that Steamboat is actually four peaks: Sunshine Peak, Christie Peak, Thunderhead Peak, and Storm Peak (lotta "peaks" huh) when we all know it's just one big hill.
I thought Long's was a piece of cake, just a walkup -- we went the Keyhole route, and it amazes me how anyone could die going that way. I didn't bring enough water, leading to a sour disposition... assisting me in reaching a couple of conclusions: Mountains aren't mountains, so much as piles of rocks... and lakes and rivers provide much more refreshing entertainment. But that's just me. Once we watered up at the bottom, we yakked all the way home. So there's something to it. Not that I'm crazy about doing it again.
In the book at the summit, my entry said "I KNEW it would look like this."
Jerry -- There seemed to be a spike of interest in the sciences when I finally made it to college, early '80's -- most of my best friends were studying chemistry and/or physics -- though I was bound for Hollywood (uh-huh) -- they just had the best conversations. I'm sure they are doing well today.
There was a popular song at the time: "I study nuclear science -- I love my classes -- got a crazy teacher; he wears dark glasses. I'm doin' all right, gettin' good grades. My future's so bright, I gotta wear shades."
Then rap came in, and things went to hell. Science is for nerds.
My first friend in town's son was in the cradle when I moved to town -- I was a videographer then, already a programmer. Years go by, my plan flouners -- meanwhile this kid, who I always thought was kind of slow, goes to Mines, gets hired by Intel, and flies around the country, putting out fires for them. And we can't talk: He does hardware -- I do software.
I rent. He owns.
Stay in school, kids. Although the degree is not necessary -- it can certainly help -- and it shows you've got perseverance, at least. If you major in Political Science or law, don't even talk to me.
Last login: Saturday, August 23, 2014
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