Who Cares (or, Do You Give a Shit About Anything?)

Why not throw your garbage out the window?

I recently created a narrated slide show about climbing on Cerro Torre. (Link here, also embedded below.) It is not an exhaustive history. I selected a few climbs. If you want to know more about what I selected and why, read my post about creating the show.

A comment after the post got me thinking – it’s from a guy named Dave King, who used to race bicycles. The latest Lance Armstrong doping stuff just happened, and a pro cycling tour came through Colorado. Cool. Wait, riding a bike? For something other than utilitarian transport? Well, that’s about as silly as climbing. Or, shit, let’s think about it – baseball, fantasy football, golf? Golf? That’s the stupidest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever heard in my whole entire life. But people love it. Dedicate huge chunks of time and energy doing it, and play by certain rules. As with so many things.

Most of what we do makes little sense. Has no great benefit to anybody else. What, like working for that magazine, or for that real estate company, or that house-of-cards financial corporation that long-dicked the public means something, or is truly important? Bullshit. It’s as worthless to the world as climbing. Almost as worthless as golf.

But we do these things.

We play by certain rules, too. Or at least a code of behavior. We don’t throw our garbage out the window, even if nobody’s looking. Don’t huck our trash on the trail, even though it doesn’t matter in the global sense. We don’t nudge that stupid golf ball closer to the hole while our opponent is checking his stock portfolio on his iPhone(™). Most of us don’t, anyway.

I always thought people who littered their cigarette butts were pieces of shit.

We have things that we care about. That mean something to us. No matter how silly they seem to others.

Hell, even bowling has rules.

Perhaps the key is to maintain some perspective. So ya don’t pull your piece out on the lane.

Still, I wonder why and how people rationalize cheating. Here’s part of Dave King’s – the cyclist I mentioned above – comment:

“[R]iders will hold onto team cars on long climbs so they aren’t dropped or eliminated altogether from the race. I always wondered how they felt about it, later when they would finish with the pack or win a stage or place, knowing they had used ‘unfair means’ to remain in the race. Probably their minds had already justified it long before the act occurred.”

I wonder, too. Then again, I take a second and examine my own behavior.

Meaningless instance: When I boxed, I remember intentionally cracking an opponent with an elbow while fighting inside – I knew the ref was on our right, so I “missed” with a tight left hook and followed through, nailing him with my elbow – but that bastard was fighting dirty all along, kept hitting me low. He had it comin’. And hey, it’s a fight. [Tone being lost in the interwebs, I’m well aware of my rationalization.]

Meaningful instance: I care about the environment, yet I drive and fly all over, thus polluting the thing that I love. Ahh, but I don’t have any kids. Population is most certainly the root of our resource crisis. I can fly all I want. [Rationalization duly noted.]

Meaningful rationale: We have to draw some reasonable lines or we couldn’t exist. In the absolute realm, we are all hypocrites (at least anybody with enough of a pulse to have ever expressed an opinion on anything). In bicycling, people use fancy wheels, or whatever. Top riders dope in order to keep up with other top riders (what a can of worms that opens; lots of thoughts here). In climbing, we use some accepted aids that help us climb safely and efficiently.

Conversely, I find it moronic when people say things like, “If you used a car to get to the climb, then you have no right to complain about abandoned fixed ropes [usually left by the moron saying this].” Or, “If you’ve ever clipped a bolt, you can’t complain about the Compressor Route.” Right. Good one, Einstein.

It’s pointless to argue with those who lack a frontal cortex, or the critical thinking skills to discern between a breeze and a hurricane.

Within reasonable realms of life, I’m curious – what do you care enough about to do right? No matter how large or how small. What examples come to mind from others? Seriously, I’d love to know. There must be great, powerful, and hilarious stories.

Maybe things beyond the predictable stock answers (sorry, couldn’t resist, I’m getting jaded to the interwebs):

• Everybody will swear that their children are everything to them. (Regardless of how much you owe in child support and how often you leave them alone in the trailer park to drool over professional wrestling while you hit the titty bar…)

• Everybody will say that climbing doesn’t matter. Funny how often I see that on climbing posts, irony un-noted, or hear it from people who devote(d) so much of their lives to climbing that they scrounged for leftovers in Camp Four and considered performing unnatural acts down in the park for road trip money.

• Some old blowhards, who used to prioritize climbing but have since gained a few pounds and spent too much time behind a desk, will give that crusty snort and say, “Heh – well, I’ve done a laaawta climbin’, and I tell ya this climbing stuff you’re into don’t mean nothin’. One of these days you’ll find something that really matters [see first bullet point, above], and then you’ll…”

To be clear, I know that climbing doesn’t matter in the overall scope of the world. Don’t use this to shut-down your brain, though, because there is always a greater cause than the one you proclaim most important. Young people are dying of cancer. There’s genocide in the Middle East and Africa. Torture. People are starving. Unjustly imprisoned.

And still, most games, activities, and daily actions have rules or codes of conduct. Why? Much as with general life, they help maintain order. Give us a sense of structure. Maybe even of right and wrong.

Devout fishermen don’t fish with live bait, I’m told. Hunters don’t court their prey with a gut pile. (Yet they’ll tree a cat with dogs and then shoot it, which always seemed weird to me, though climbing surely has its nonsensical ways – my cousin hunted with his beloved coon dogs, and I always meant to get him to explain it to me (I love dogs, and I do stupid things, too, so I think I could get it), and also give him shit about not being more sporting, like, drop the dogs and the gun and stalk the cougar with a knife in your teeth, mano y mano, fair means, baby – to which, I’m sure, he’d laugh and reply, “I’m not stupid.” And he might add, “You should climb at your limit unroped, hippie – be more sporting.”)

Jim Erickson, a legendary climber in Boulder, still doesn’t use chalk, doesn’t rehearse moves, and doesn’t return to routes he didn’t onsight. Even in the gym. It’s just the game he likes to play, I guess.

Other examples abound. I’d like to hear some of them.

In a world of “progress” defined as continually making things easier to enable “success,” I can’t help but think that success isn’t always success, and failure isn’t always failure.

Seems to me that much of today’s world is uninspired, disillusioned. Commerce, consumption, apathy.

I remember an excellent article by Matt Samet, on the history of sport climbing in North America. He was talking about Jim Karn, a phenomenal climber also known for obsessiveness, his dark side, and throwing legendary wobblers. The great, understated quote from Jim years later: “At least I cared about something.”

I think it’s a wonderful thing, a privilege, to have something you love. Something you care about, even if it’s as worthless as everything else.

Reblog: Kids of the Times

After yesterday’s rant, I figured I’d post something a little less, a little less…less rant-ish. Been meaning to run this, which first appeared recently on Patagonia’s blog, where I write about once a week (you can click here to see all the shit I’ve written, total hit-and-miss, from stuff people (including me) like to crickets chirping). That’s why I don’t write here as much as I used to. But some things seem better suited for this space. While Patagonia is great in giving me free rein, well, I just kinda felt like maybe yesterday’s thoughtful composition might not be right for them. It’s a delicate dance. Anyway, as I’ve been meaning to do for awhile, I’ll try to remember to repost — reblog? — some of the ones that I like here. Hope you enjoy:

Kids of the Times

by Kelly Cordes

Silence. So rare, so nice. Four recent days of disconnected bliss – from the e-world, that is. But fully connected in more natural ways, like with climbing, food, friends, a river and beer. My only reading was on paper, not on a screen. It was nice, anyway, until a leisurely check of my phone messages upon our return snapped me back into the modern world. It was my sister: “You are SUCH a loser. Do you have any idea that you and that stupid mullet of yours is in the New York Fucking Times?”

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[The boat times, with CF Scariot (left), Kelly Cordes (reading) and Andrew Gram (drinking). Photo: Dan Gambino]

Whatever. I was still in namaste land, so I texted her that I’d have my agent return her call. Wait, what? Well I’ll be damned. Climbing all up in the Times. The Sunday Magazine had a photo essay on the Ouray Ice Festival, where I was working hard. Strange world these days. Especially how this increase in virtual connectedness can sometimes leave us feeling disconnected.

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[Screen grab from the online version of a recent New York Times Sunday Magazine.]
Anyway, I guess climbing is getting big. Ouray in the TimesAlex Honnold in People magazineConrad Anker on NPR. Which might also mean that a couple of Sundays ago 1.6 million people were like, “Who’s the old guy with the graying mullet and racing stripes in the hot tub with them kids?”I shouldn’t complain. It’s better than the pic on my Ambassador page. I barely remember that photo – Tim, one of Patagonia’s photographers, grabbed me as I stumbled toward the coffee maker after margarita night at our last off-site design meeting, and next thing I know I’m stuck looking like Cletus Spuckler. Couldn’t they have had the decency to airbrush-out the molestache? Well, at least they used the best of the crop. Some of the outtakes made me look pretty ragged.

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[Making Patagonia proud and the outtake from a rough morning. Photos: Tim Davis]

When I think about these things my only concern, as a washed-up climber, is how such media might influence others. I mean, what about the kids?

Like, say, young Hayden Kennedy. My god, what a crusher. Kids these days. Talked with him last week and he mentioned how he’d finished a rigging job and then headed to the desert, where he, like me, had a blast. Only, instead of coming out to tell stupid stories of creeping people out in a hot tub, he sent a longstanding project that’s probably the hardest route in Indian Creek. Since he doesn’t have Facebook or a blog (he had them, but got sick of it and canceled both; how many 22-year-olds do that these days?), you can read about it here (which includes a great video from Sender Films of Nick Martino working the line) – when you climb like that, word gets out.

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[Hayden Kennedy acclimatizing on Naisa Brakk, Pakistan. Photo: Kelly Cordes]

Speaking of Hayden, and speaking of modern media, anybody catch the recent two episodes of the Enormocast that he was on? It’s our friend Chris Kalous’s dirtbag-level podcast – he’s had a half-dozen or so episodes, and you can subscribe on iTunes. He often records out of his sketchy 1970 RV, and it’s a down-home, usually R-rated, authentic climbing life podcast. An old school podcast (is that a contradiction?). Just him and a guest b.s.ing – but he gets interesting guests, so they’re good b.s. sessions. I love podcasts, though I can never just sit and listen at my desk. Unlike my time on the desert-river trip, I get too distracted. But while I’m driving or on a walk, I eat ‘em up. Between the Enormocast, the Dirtbag Diaries and This American Life, you’re all set.

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[Chris Kalous peering out from the mobile world headquarters of the Enormocast. Photo: Kelly Cordes]

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[The Enormocast mastermind, Chris Kalous. Photo: Kelly Cordes]

And the episodes with Hayden discussing his Cerro Torre climb and subsequent controversial bolt removal are tip-top. Load ‘em on your iWhatever and save them for your next commute. Great words from the man himself, mature beyond his years, and with legit commentary and sharp wit from Kalous. In the first episode, Hayden talks about the climb, and his description of how it feels while doing a dream climb is the best I’ve ever heard. He articulates that feeling brilliantly, along with the bolt cleaning, and the tragedy and ugliness afterward. The second episode dives into the controversy, and Hayden speaks with far greater depth and knowledge than much of the commentary that dominated the immediate aftermath, most of it lobbed from those sitting in the cheap seats. Here we get the story from someone who wasn’t.

Not to imply that hanging in a hot tub was a cheap seat, of course. Which makes me think, why the hell wasn’t Hayden in the Times instead? Oh, that’s right. Because he was in the mountains, actually getting shit done while I was just talking about it. Damn, I hate it when that happens. But I love that I can listen, watch or read about it later.

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[CF Scariot just below a tower top in the western Colorado desert. Photo: Kelly Cordes]

Grumpy-O’s and the Ever-Falling Sky

Ever have one of those days where everything sucks? This sucks, that sucks, you suck, I suck. Some observations from a guy who, for no good reason, had a bowl of Grumpy-O’s for breakfast this morning.

Apple sucks. Microsoft sucks way worse. But Apple is becoming more like Microsoft every day. The reason people, like me, loved them is because their shit just worked. Windows, on the other hand, didn’t. You’d get these nonstop “software updates” that bogged down your machine, and then next time you went, say, to print a document, you get “Printer not installed.” Goddammmit, you motherfuckers, my printer worked just fine before this “crucial” security update you insisted I install. Too many “software updates” too often makes me suspicious. A buddy had a fine point when he ranted something like, “Hey, so if Apple is so great, how come every time I go in to their store for help, their ‘genius bar’ [most pretentious name ever, btw--Ed.] is so backed up that I have to make an appointment for the next day?”

And they’ve turned their phones and iPads into fucking sales devices for their apps. This shit costs enough to begin with, so quit trying to sell me stuff every time I turn around. Sell, sell, sell, indeed (by comparison, the climbing world is nowhere near as bad). And another thing (I’m not done yet), stop trying to track everything I do. When I turn off “location services” on my iPhone (yes, I’m sooo kewl, I have an iPhone, clearly making me a better person than the rest of you peasants) – because I don’t want, or see a need, for them to know where I am at all fucking times – yes, I mean it. I don’t need some stupid Windows-like pop-up asking if I’m sure. Yes, motherfucker, I am sure.

But Windows it still worse.

It’s like at the gas pumps, where you pay with a credit card, and they ask, “Do you want a car wash?” Why the fuck would I want a car wash? Hard though it seems to believe, I have some standards in life and the last thing I give a rat’s ass about is dirt on my car. No, dickhead (I’d love a list of the names those machines have been called), I just want to put gas in my car. That’s why I’m here. In the automatic pay lane.

Speaking of tracking, anyone remember Google’s *old* credo: “Don’t be evil”? They’ve been getting investigated, and getting lambasted, for their decision to track users over every fucking means possible. Sucky thing is, their email is way better than others I’ve used. Yahoo! blows (which is worse than sucks – just a little FYI there), for example. It’s a rough life, ya know, and I can’t be hassled to change-over from the Yahoo! email I’ve had forever. But they do, indeed, blow – Gmail works perfectly, controls spam, so why can’t Yahoo! do that? It can’t be that hard. The data-tracking-sellsellsell crew at Google can do it. I used Google Chrome for browsing, because I thought it was way more better. Firefox kept crashing. But Chrome bogs down all the time. I wondered why? Oh, I know, because you bastards are so damned busy collecting all my personal information that it slows to a crawl. The fact that, after looking at some backpacks online, I now get backpack ads on every site I go to is just plain creepy. I need to change.

We all (the “royal we,” that is…) buy into it, too. Hell, even Outside magazine (who I’m no fan of), and who’ve actually had some outstanding pieces lately, don’t even put their good stuff front-center. In the words of a writer friend: “Outside manages to turn us off with its stupid manfashion and hypemonster shit, but it uses that stuff to cover up its great journalism. Weird.”

Or, maybe not so weird in today’s world. Sellsellsell.

While I think Peter Beal was a bit alarmist with his “Sell, Sell, Sell” post (which generated retorts, counter retorts, follow-up posts, and all kinds of stuff on the climbing webs), I think it’s an important discussion. In the bigger scale, it’s endemic of our cancerous society with its all-important “growth.” It’s never OK to just make a decent living, is it? You have to keep selling, keep growing. And we’re all part of it, in various ways. Consume, grow, more, more, more. Somebody explain to me how this is possibly sustainable? Yet to suggest anything other than mass consumerism, like to suggest a possible homeostasis, is political suicide. So much for leadership. Instead, we consume ourselves.

Shit, now I’m drifting into serious stuff. It was easier to just be pissed-off and ranting nonsensical (even the Tea Party knows this).

Hell, the good stuff that worked just fine, like the old Apple products that I used while walking uphill both ways, get bogged down by fucking with everything in their endless effort to sellsellsell. Kind of like those used-to-be sweet jackets that [pick any company] made in the first generation, before the sales force hijacked ‘em and added 37 pockets and reinforcements and iPhone pockets and what-not. Then again, fortunately many companies still make real-deal items that work, which they often have to balance with the big-sales pieces that pay the bills, while picking and choosing where to abide by the wonderful notion expressed by Antoine de Saint-Exupery in Wind, Sand and Stars:

In anything at all, perfection is finally attained not when there is no longer anything to add, but when there is no longer anything to take away, when a body has been stripped down to its nakedness.

Anyway, I know I’m full of shit on many levels, a hypocrite just like the rest of us, and of course I benefit from technology and advances. It’s just that, sometimes, I wish the cancer of consumption and endless sales would exercise some restraint. Can’t there be some balance?

Instead, we are cannibals. Maybe I’ll have to re-read The Road soon. Brilliant book.

Rant over. Grump-O’s digested. In the words of the immortal Kenny Fucking Powers: “Fuck this noise.” I’ve got it too good to just bitch and then sit around. I’m going climbing – just for some balance. Looks like a beautiful afternoon in the Park.

Quick Tip: Rig, rap, repeat

There are many ways to avoid the cluster, both on ascent and descent. Covering terrain quickly is at least as much about efficiency as it is about climbing fast. Or, in this case, rappelling fast. Granted, like anyone, oh how I love the Aussie Speed Rappel…. I only do it, however, when rapping out of a helicopter with an Uzi to cleanse the world of evil.

For now, I’m envisioning a world cleansed of descent epics. I’m working on some posts with pointers on rapping-off efficiently, and tips to avoid stuck ropes – so often folks bumble the descent (I’ve done it plenty).

In the meantime, here’s a quick pointer on a useful clip-in-and-rappel setup when doing multiple raps, especially steep raps. You need a double-length sling (appx 48″, which I usually have on my harness for building anchors), although a cordalette (tied-off to shorten it) will also work fine, as will two shoulder-length slings hitched together.

Setup:

A. Girth hitch the long sling through your harness.

B. Tie a figure-8 knot in the middle of the sling (an overhand would work, but with a skinny sling it cinches up so tight that it’s a bitch to untie afterward). Adjust knot distance as needed. Make sure the knot is well within arm’s reach of your harness.

C. Put your belay device in the near loop of the sling (the one closest to your body) – this is your rappel loop.

D. Put a locking ‘biner on the far loop – this is your clip-in loop.

The setup.

Use:

  1. Clip-in to the anchor with the locker on your clip-in loop. If you want to be in closer than this, just clip into the near loop and clip that to the anchor. Fine to tie another knot to make a “pocket” for another clip-in option.
  2. Put yourself on rappel. You’ll be rappelling with an extension in this system – I often prefer rapping with an extension, as it tends to be “clean,” away from your body and pack straps and such, and it gives superior braking power and control on steep rappels. If you use a friction hitch backup, it’ll have to be below the device with this system.
  3. Unclip from the anchor, and rappel away.
  4. At the next rap station, just clip your clip-in loop into the anchor. Then take yourself off rappel.
  5. Repeat.

In use.

The same deal can be rigged in other ways, of course – if you don’t want or need to rap with an extension, for example, just hitch a shoulder-length sling through your harness for clipping-in to each anchor, and rappel directly off your belay loop. Or use a daisy chain (remember that it’s life-and-death important to avoid cross-clipping daisy pockets; a P.A.S. eliminates this concern), though I don’t usually climb with a daisy, for a couple of reasons that I can explain another time.

Most importantly, however you do it, do it efficiently. With a quick, safe system. Don’t cluster-fuck it every time with a mess of quickdraws linked together, clipping and unclipping from your harness, a rat’s nest of this rigged to that, etc. Figure out something that works, is secure, and has minimal steps. Rig, rap, repeat.

Language, Cerro Torre and Twirling Hippies

Before the Cerro Torre drama erupted, I was in my local Estes Park Public Library, renewing my library card. It’d been awhile since I’d been in and they have a new, modernized system. Of the various institutions struggling to adapt to the e-era, libraries probably have a lot to consider. People still read (fortunately), still want information, and libraries need to remain relevant in the internet age. Of course they still house mostly books, and I love libraries, and I like funding them with my taxes. I know, call me a “socialist” – er, maybe not here, as there’s probably minimal overlap between Fox News viewers and readers of this blog.

Which somehow reminds me of a great article in The Onion. I don’t know how they do it every week. Then again, given the charade of American politics and pop culture, they’ve got an eternal source of material. Hell, half of it mocks itself, doesn’t even need satirizing. One of their recent articles especially cracked me up: “GOP Completely Fixes Economy By Canceling Funding For NPR.”

Back on track: So the woman handed me my new library card, along with a nice little informational pamphlet, and, in her indoor voice, mentioned their “Gathering Times.” I’m pretty sure it was only in my head that I barked, in my Kenny Powers outdoor voice [about 12 seconds into the below video], What the fuck’s a gathering times?! “Oh,” she said, lowering her indoor voice to a whisper. “The hours that we’re open.”

Now wait a second. If libraries are places of words, which they are, and ostensibly intelligent and well chosen words, used to convey meaning, then WTF are they talking about? Furthermore, gatherings happen, by definition, in groups. Groups aren’t quiet. Libraries are supposed to be quiet.

I know, it’s just a word. At least it isn’t “off belay” (oops, splat).

“The difference between the right word and the almost-right word is the difference between the lightning and the lightning-bug,” – Mark Twain, 1888.

Besides, language evolves. For example, I can imagine two new terms emerging from the recent Cerro Torre events (if you’ve been living in a cave or if you have a life, and don’t know what I’m talking about, click here for my take on it – I’ll try to post an audio version of it soon, since I’ve been playing with audio; Colin Haley wrote a great post, as did BJ Sbarra in his short & sweet “Cerro Torre for Dummies“; there’s also lots of uninformed garbage out there, stuffed with revisionist history and blatant inaccuracies):

• To “Maestri” something could mean to make a mess of a place. Before blasting me with hate mail, remember that, whether you agree with the bolt chopping or not, Maestri trashed Cerro Torre. This is indisputable. A freakin’ 300-pound lawnmower engine bolted to the flanks of the most beautiful spire in the world, hundreds of bolts littered near perfect cracks, thousand of feet of fixed rope, etc. Usage example: “Man, those dillweeds who made the ‘Sport Park’ in Boulder Canyon totally Maestri’d that joint.”

• To “KennedyKruk” something could mean to try to clean said mess. Say you’re in a Himalayan basecamp, which are all too often litter piles (side note: I have never understood how people can go to these gorgeous places, claiming to be drawn by their beauty, and then trash them). Usage example: “Man, this is bullshit, how can people do this? I’m gonna get a garbage bag and KennedyKruk this mess.”

Or not.

Colin Haley descending the Compressor Route, with its namesake obvious. Photo: Kelly Cordes

Regardless, words have meanings, and, my above tangents aside, we should use them in appropriate relevance to our topics. Some of the language used with this Cerro Torre fiasco is absurd. It’s fine to care about things, it really is. Climbing included. But let’s keep some perspective, for fuck’s sake.

Some pro-chopping people have used the Berlin Wall analogy, noting that we often tear down historical wrongs, and that merely being “historical” doesn’t make something sacred (I agree). But where does an analogy go too far? If you’re going to use this particular comparison, for example, I think you need to make abundantly clear that it’s just an example, and that you’re not comparing bolts on a mountain to a murderous regime, of course.

A usage that makes me cringe is the “rape” of Cerro Torre. I agree that Maestri’s actions were atrocious (within the world of those of us who care about climbing and care about the mountains). Maybe I cringe at this because I’ve used this term myself in the past. But I won’t anymore. It’s wrong.

As the inimitable “Chewtoy” wrote on an Alpinist thread:

“How do you ‘rape’ a mountain?

Do have a wife, daughter, mother?

Do you read the news?

Do you know what goes on around the world to our sisters?

Can’t we have a discussion about the culture of climbing without making grandiose comparisons?”

Speaking of which, a widely-read Italian blog post, which I found fairly absurd, was actually titled Taliban on Cerro Torre.” Taliban?! The Taliban butcher people, stone-to-death and mutilate women, and commit horrific human rights violations. Have you lost your mind? We’re talking about bolts on a mountain here. Again, it’s fine to care, it’s good to care. It’s fine if you think the Compressor Route shouldn’t have been chopped, and to argue your point. But goddamn, let’s keep some perspective.

In observing the responses to this whole fiasco over the last month+, I think that irrational language often works against those who use it. It makes them look out-of-touch with reality, makes them easy to dismiss.

Some Onion-worthy irony: Some folks have been calling the chopping “so American.” Jason is Canadian. (Not to mention the dubious issue of blaming actions you don’t like on someone’s nationality, or of holding Hayden responsible for the imperialism of George Bush, among others). I hear ya, though: Yeah, yeah, whatever dude, Canadian, ‘Merican, same thing. So fucking American.

Whew, my head hurts.

Back to something easier: Before this Cerro Torre deal blew up, I’d been thinking I might have a word with the folks at my local library. Maybe suggest, to be excessively wordy, that they go with “Open Hours.” Or, to be even more excessively wordy, “Hours of Operation.” Either would correctly convey the intended meaning (as would the simple “Hours”). But “Gathering Times?” Rather than people coming to read books, my local library might find itself faced with a marauding band of twirling hippies holding a patouli-oil drum circle in their lobby. They should be more careful.

But come to think of it, compared to this Cerro Torre drama, a little gathering time sounds pretty nice right now. Maybe that’s what the librarian actually meant.

Climbing all up in the Interwebs

What’s in the Internet water these days? People are being nice, even in forums. ‘Tis the season, I suppose.

• Someone started a random thread on Mountain Project thanking Matt Samet:

“Aside from replacing a boatload of bolts for the ARI, putting up a bunch of routes, and writing a lot of funny articles over the years, I just wanted to publicly put it out there that the Climbing Dictionary is *effing hilarious* and deserves to be in a lot of stockings. Well done, man.”

How cool. The thread is one big love-in for Matt, who’s a kind soul while remaining his cynical, dark self (no wonder I like him so much). The thread did, however, confuse me for a moment. Given that Matt edited Climbing and Rock and Ice magazines in the past – you know the requisite over-the-hill grumpy climber statement: “Aw, them damn mags are all the same poseurs and the same crap, I never read ‘em. You see that piece of shit article on page 32?” – and given the odd toxicity that comes from mixing climbers and the Internet, I instinctively scrolled down the page for words like “asshole,” “choad,” or “dickweed,” along with their misspelled variants. What, it hasn’t descended into puerile postings? Wait a second…this ain’t a climbing forum!

I emailed Matt, and he seemed astounded by the praise:

“This must be the first time in world history that a website thread was thanking me and not calling me a loser.

Still, it’s hard to top the post on rockclimbing.com 9 years ago in which someone said I write like a ‘teenage rimjob princess.’ I mean, you can’t buy that sort of praise!”

• Speaking of those damn mags, there’s another thread, “are the mags passe? Though perhaps a passe thread, it remains a relevant question as mediums shift. Change happens. I still like the mags, though indeed I’m prematurely over the hill (which implies that I once crested the proverbial hill, thus a problematic statement, but I digress). They aren’t The New Yorker, but nobody claimed they were. I think AlpinistClimbing, and Rock and Ice all do an excellent job in a difficult market (I rarely read Deadpoint or Urban Climber, but I’m glad they’re surviving, too).

Regardless, in the holiday season maybe it’s best to “consume” things that enrich us in a way that our materialistic orgy of consumerism does not. The arts are a great example. Read, watch a good movie, take-in some music.

• The November issue of Climbing magazine had a good piece called “The Future,” in which they interviewed four generations of top climbers: Tommy Caldwell, Lynn Hill, George Lowe and Angie Payne. Here’s part of Tommy’s reply when asked about changes he’s seen in his 30 years of climbing (yeah, he started when he was three):

“Well, right off the bat, I feel like the tension has gone away. I feel like people have embraced all the different kinds of climbing as their own independent facets. And then it’s kind of cool how they’ve merged, too. People realize that hard bouldering or hard sport climbing are really good for doing big-wall free climbs.” He added, “The whole scene is a lot more harmonious.”

I like it. And I liked that issue of Climbing (their 300th edition!). Their “Face Off” on the closing page was great, funny, creative – a bracketed tournament of who/what wins against each other. But I’m not sure if I agree with their finalists – I think it should have been Fred Beckey vs. PBR. Yosemite’s pretty good, though. In their “Six Crags that Shaped the Sport” list, I was thrilled that they excluded Rifle, for fuck’s sake. I’ve had enough of Rifle covers, full-page photos, and articles for awhile. Seems to me that, unfortunately, only so much of interest can be written or photographed about single-pitch sport routes in the same marginally scenic canyon. No matter how good they are. I suspect Climbing’s exclusion was strategic, as each publication needs to differentiate themselves, and my friends at Rock and Ice seem to have Rifle pretty well covered. Along the lines of covering the same material over and over, Climbing must have gotten some flack for including three ‘Rado crags in their list of six: Eldorado Canyon, Shelf Road, and Indian Creek.

• Got the first “official” review of my blog (big time, here I come), and my first “A” since college, on a site called A Blog About Blogs. A fun site, even if there’s nothing official about it – all the better. I love how the Interwebs allow people to just go for it with their ideas.

• Putting together a climbing magazine is hard, thankless, low-paid work. People bitch more than they thank. Here’s a shout-out to the folks at the mags: Thank you for your work. Although I sometimes criticize – and I firmly believe that fair criticism is important (speaking of which, how good is Anthony Lane? Always sharp, funny, insightful criticism.) – most of the climbing mag people are butterflies, samurais, and even ninjas. Which reminds me, since the holidays leave plenty of time to surf the web while getting drunk, wading through family tension, and getting surly at parties (growling at the stranger across the table: “I never did like you!”), I’ll close this rambling post with a music video that’s stuck with me like a bad rash, one that strikes the delicate balance between creepy and sweet, the sort of thing that you kinda like but don’t know if you really should. With luck, it will similarly stick to you – after all, the holidays are for sharing.

Free Online Film Showing (self-serving announcement)

Self-serving announcement: You can watch COLD, the climbing film that won the GFP at Banff, for free tonight, online. It’s 19-minutes long, raw, dark, rated R, and my first writing for film (though Cory Richards, climber and videographer, and Anson Fogel, director and editor, did the heavy lifting for sure). Our idea was to tell the story, from inside Cory’s brain, of their his, Simone Moro and Denis Urubko’s viciously cold and dangerous first winter ascent of Gasherbrum II, in Pakistan. It was the first winter ascent of any of Pakistan’s 8,000m peaks, and done without supplementary oxygen or high-altitude porters.

I’m told that you can just click and watch anytime between 7–9 p.m. MST (do the math for your time zone), on Outside Magazine’s website. I have no idea how this came to be, I didn’t have anything to do with it, but it seems great. The only place it had showed previously was at film festivals, and this free showing is a one-time deal. Also, starting at 7:30, there’s a live Q&A session with Anson, Cory, Simone and me. I don’t know if it’ll be moderated, or if you can ask questions about margaritas, mullets and pro wrestling, but give it a try. I’d better figure out how to login before I start swilling margs.

Though I’ve made my modest (sounds better than “meager”) living as a writer and editor for the past 10 years or so (hard to believe, given some of the crap I’ve written), I’d never written for film before. I found it fascinating in ways different than writing for the page. Julie Kennedy, wife of Michael and mother of Hayden, deserves full credit. She’s a connector. Without her idea of bringing us together, it wouldn’t have happened – hell, Cory and I, though we’d hung out before, had never had any contact whatsoever with Anson (who’s an absolutely brilliant independent filmmaker – check out the incredible trailer, below, for his work). But she knows all of us, knows Anson’s award-winning work, and saw Cory’s gripping footage – he’s been working his entire adult life to make his photography career happen, and his devotion to capturing footage in even the grimmest situations amazed us. So Julie wanted us to join forces to make the film, and wanted it to premiere (which it did) at her 5 Point Film Festival, in Carbondale. This was one month before the festival. Uhhhh. But if you know Julie, she’s convincing. “My mom could sell sand to the Arabs,” Hayden told me.

It turned out well enough, as Cold has been cleaning up at film festivals, including winning the Grand Fucking Prize at Banff. Like not just for climbing, but the whole festival. Whoa. Couldn’t believe it when I got the text – yes, text; I’d considered heading to Banff for the fest, since I knew it had been selected, and it all sounded fun, but the airfares were pricey and Yosemite sounded funner (that should totally be a word). So, one day in the Valley I learned of the GFP via text message. Slacker, I know.

Here’s the trailer:

Honestly, we didn’t think Cold would go big like this (even in the relative “big” of the outdoor world – I always think of the movie Waiting for Guffman when talking “big” about climbing). Just figured it too dark and raw for most audiences. For one, it’s laced with profanity – the third word of the film is an f-bomb. (“Do ya have to use many cusswords?” “What the fuck are you talking about?”). We truly did not care if the language turned people off, quite simply because we wanted to communicate Cory’s authentic experience, the distilled essence of what was happening inside his head. So if you’re looking for Brittany Spears, this film is not for you.

By the way, a shortened version of Cold ran with the Reel Rock Tour – I haven’t seen that version, but I heard they tamed it down a little (fewer f-bombs) and trimmed it to 12 minutes (impressive work, don’t know how they did it; most folks, myself included, thought it pretty tight at 19 minutes, but we all get married to our own work). Tonight’s showing will be the full-length version, and I presume it won’t be censored or bleeped-out. The good folks at Sender Films have also made a download, including behind-the-scenes extras, available for sale on their website, despite it not being a Sender production — thanks, guys!

Anyway, enough rambling. If you’ve got nothing better to do for 19 minutes this evening, pour yourself a marg and tune in. I hope you like it.

Here’s the trailer for Anson & crew’s work. Amazing:

An Early Bah Humbug (and other random thoughts)

Random recent thoughts and notes:

• Happy Holidays. “Black Friday” repulses me. Better yet for such days: make a personal statement and don’t buy a goddamned thing. I’ve said it before, in a Dirtbag Diaries podcast about my years of working dead-end jobs and clashing with a heinously materialistic boss: “Shopping” as a stand-alone endeavor is not a valid passion. There’s nothing legitimate about buying scads of worthless crap you don’t need, just for the sake of filling some void. I also reject the notion that celebrating the holidays should have anything to do with the disgusting religion of mindless consumption that’s become a defining American value; never have, it’s a doomed road, there must be a better way. We’re all part of the problem, which, like most things, exists on a continuum. Solutions aren’t easy. But this morally bankrupt “Black Friday” madness represents our very worst. Better: get outside, walk, climb, breathe, spend time alone or with loved ones, give something away.

• Reading the list of Black Friday shopping crimes, including multiple episodes of violence nationwide at Wal-Marts (the same place at which the horrors reached a pinnacle a couple of years ago, when herds of stampeding mouthbreathers trampled one another to death while rushing through the doors), wouldn’t one think it a dangerous place? Surely more dangerous than the Occupy Wall Street camps that were raided and dispersed by authorities. (More dangerous aside from ideology, of course, and notwithstanding the well-documented police brutality against peaceful protesters.) The camps were disassembled due to, ostensibly anyway, filth and unruly behavior. Ironic, considering the filth of corporate greed and corruption that they were protesting. The greed and corruption has led to the biggest disparity in wealth in our country’s history, which, one could reasonably surmise, might contribute to the desperate and even violent search for “deals” on Black Friday. Again, the irony. In the immediate sense, Wal-Mart on Friday was far more dangerous than any Occupy camp.

• A bunch of grants are available for qualified adventurers. Some are due soon.
-Due Dec 1 (tomorrow): The Lyman Spitzer Cutting Edge Award application, made possible by generous contributions from Lyman Spitzer, Jr.
-Due December 15: The Mugs Stump Award application, courtesy of the generous people at Alpinist Magazine, Black Diamond, Mountain Gear, Patagonia, and W.L. Gore.
-Due December 31: The Polartec Challenge Grant application, made possible by the generosity of Polartec.
-Due January 1: the McNeill-Nott Award, thanks to the generosity of Mountain Hardwear.

Get on it.

• Patagonia is, hands-down, the best company I’ve ever been involved with, and my respect for them just grew. Check out the ad in Friday’s New York Times – and before you make a snap-judgment, read the text as well (and for further explanation, read their blog post) – hypocrites? Sure. Just like you. Just like me. Every one ofPatagonia's ad in The New York Times on "Black Friday." us. More importantly, they’ve got the balls and intelligence to examine themselves amid our toxic, mindless, dead-end consumeristic culture. Sure, the ad might also be good marketing, something we’ve come to automatically regard as equating to bullshit in today’s bullshit world. But Patagonia isn’t like most companies. For 30+ years Patagonia has led the way, as they continue to do, in showing that business doesn’t have to be all rape and pillage, greed and short-term dividends. What a concept, eh? The simplistic idea that we shouldn’t even discuss our problems is home of the frontal lobe impaired; pretending the elephant doesn’t exist just gets you trampled in the name of ignorance. Yes, the ad makes you think, elicits a reaction. Intentionally provocative, and they have the track record to back it up. Hell yeah, Patagonia.

• Speaking of which, upon returning home the other day – between Pakistan and other travels, I’ve only been home for about two weeks since mid-August – I was again struck by my wardrobe. (“O-M-G. You have, like(?), the most incredible wardrobe?!”) Beater car, 580 sq ft home, I pretty much wear the same three T-shirts over and over, but have accumulated too much “stuff.” Kinda gross, I know. I’ve accumulated a lot of Patagonia and Polartec clothes over the years, and as a result my size small friends are well outfitted with my hand-me-downs at this point. But I have more that I don’t need – mostly baselayers and midlayer insulation, with some shells and some climbing pants. Some casual wear as well. If you’re size small and need the clothes (meaning, not just if you want “free stuff” (yuk), but that you promise you’ll actually use it for getting out and being active), or if you know someone less fortunate and cold and in-need this winter, drop me a note. And let me know what you’re doing if you want, I’d love to hear it, I get psyched hearing of people doing cool shit. My email is on the bottom-right sidebar of this blog, and I’m on the Facebook. If I have something you could use, and you’ll really use it, I’ll gladly send it to you – on me, for free, merry holidays. Now get out and do something good.

• Like climbing. Which reminds me: here’s a good way to be efficient in acquiring quality memories without wrecking the place. Talking low-impact things, like extra pitches – climbing mileage. One recent afternoon in Yosemite, we started up the classic Serenity-Sons linkup, which I’d never done. We topped out just before dark, in November’s short days, and for once we’d actually bought headlamps. But getting farther down in the daylight beats spending more time in the dark. The route has fixed anchors/raps, so as I belayed-up my partner on the final pitch, I clipped-in to the anchor with a runner, untied myself, and threaded my end of the rope for rappelling as she came up (you need to be using an auto-blocking belay device to safely multi-task like this). As I belayed, I threaded the rope until the middle mark came to the anchors, and then I hitched it off to hold it in place. Since I’d already threaded the rope, within 30 seconds of her reaching me we were on rappel. Not a bad way to do things, as the sooner you’re down, the sooner you’re drinking margaritas.

Serenity Now! Great climbing, Serenity Crack, Yosemite.

Greetings from Pakistan!

Holassalamualaikum! (That’s my fallback foreign language, the hola part, mixed with one of the three Urdu words I know — Spanglishstani?) I’m finishing-up seven weeks in Pakistan, on what started as a climbing trip but became something more. A bunch of stories floating through ol’ duder’s head for once I get around to sharing them. Sorry, by the way, for the unposted comments — I see them sitting in my inbox and will approve ‘em pronto.

In brief, the climbing…I spent 30 days in the Charakusa Valley, an immaculate place that I’m psyched to have visited again (I was there in 2007 as well), along with young guns Kyle Dempster and Hayden Kennedy. They’re both beasts, phenomenal all-arounders (man, I’m so impressed with the younger generation!) and great people. They tore it up, while I, well…damn. I thought I was ready, maybe convinced myself of such after six surgeries in just over a year, but I think I took for granted what an enormous step up it is from day climbs back home, and even in Chamonix, to the truly awesome Karakoram.

In between smaller climbs, bouldering, and nursing myself back to health, the simple life in base camp provided a beautiful place to make peace with my disappointment. Maybe I need more time, or maybe this is my new reality; we don’t always get what we want in life, and I haven’t forgotten that I am a fortunate man.

And so I left base camp a week early to explore northern Pakistan on my own, and it gave me some of the coolest experiences of my life, like I was living a different existence in a different place, seeing things and meeting people that expanded my concept of the world and of life and of my own smallness, my utter insignificance in the universe, all while somehow making me feel connected at the same time. That’s some pretty cool shit, and a wonderful, liberating experience.

So, you’re probably wondering the “s” thing: safety. And what would a piece on Pakistan be without addressing safety? Well, it is my pleasure, and considering the people I’ve met, indeed I feel it my responsibility. Nope, no evil-doers. No terrorists (how exactly one defines that…well, I’ll save it, but I god-damned guarantee ya two things: when I fly home, the alert level in the US airports will be orange (meaning…what exactly?); and on my next flight after this trip I will hear these words at airport security, as I always do after Pakistan: “Mr. Cordes, you have been randomly selected for secondary screening.”). Here in Pakistan I found alert level green, just peace and love and kindness at a level unmatched by even the enlightened folk back in Boulder (regardless of what their bumper stickers say). Damn, good stuff.

Seriously, to imply, as our government and media most certainly do, that an entire nation (and/or religious or ethnic group) is to be avoided, and its inhabitants mostly hostile and dangerous, is so fucking absurd that it defies reason. It draws to mind the ugliness of racism, and it is wrong and cruel to the overwhelming majority of Pakistanis and Muslims who are kind, peaceful people. Imagine if after, say, the Arizona shootings (or pick any act of violence that occurs anyplace daily at home), people were going, “Don’t go to the US! Man, you might get shot. Crazy people, I wouldn’t go there.” Of course you could get yourself into trouble as a foreigner in Pakistan, should you be an idiot and do zero research as to where to go, or act like a complete asshole, or just get very unlucky. Duh. Name a place in the world where this is not the case.

Imagine a Pakistani, speaking no English and wearing traditional garb, walking through a neighborhood back home. How many people would cross the street to enthusiastically welcome him to our country, invite him to our homes for tea and food and even to stay the night? In Pakistan I was that foreigner, and I lost count of the times people welcomed me in those very ways.

My experiences, after an accumulated seven months of my life in Pakistan (spread over four trips), completely belie the fear-mongering portrayal of the country. I have not had one negative personal interaction here, not once felt concern for my security or felt even a hint of unwelcoming. Never in my life, nowhere in my world travels — including my daily life back home — have I been treated with the kindness and warmth presented to me at every turn in northern Pakistan, whether traveling solo on a bicycle (that was really freakin’ cool, by the way!); walking around and taking public transportation by myself; being with friends old and new, Pakistani and Western alike; kicking around the cities; or heading through remote villages en route to the mountains. It’s especially profound when you witness daily lives that should seem desperate to us — staggering poverty, unemployment near 50%, and a serious lack of the conveniences and services we take for granted. Talk about a dose of perspective.

Indeed the world is a crazy place and Pakistan faces some complex issues as it develops. Who knows what the future holds? I don’t. But I do know this: I will never forget the overwhelming kindness and warmth shown to me by the people of northern Pakistan. I leave here humbled and grateful.

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The Sicktionary

OK, OK, we all know the story by now, Great Trango, blahblah, no water, blahblah Disaster Style yadda yadda.

Young climber at the crag: “Hey old man – nice haircut, by the way – you happen to know what the rack is for this pitch?”

Old man (me): “Well, I seem to recall…I seem to recall that…it was July 2004. Pakistan. Trango Valley. Me and Josh started up, when – BLAM! – on the second pitch we dropped a bunch of our cams. And – hey! Listen-up now, whipper-snapper, it’s time for you to man-up!”

I’ll spare you the rest, as I’m starting to become like Walter Sobchak in The Big Lebowski, blathering on about ‘Nam.

“Ever hear of a little something called Great Trango Tower, Little Larry?”

So I’m in Pakistan right now, trying to relive the past (“Three-thousand years of beautiful tradition, from Moses to Sandy Koufax, you’re god-damned right I’m livin’ in the fuckin’ past!”) – ha; actually I’m trying to create some new memories – and, thanks to the interwebs I can set this to post while I’m out of contact. Side note: It’s so nice to be unplugged for awhile.

Anyway, around this time, my good friend Matt Samet’s Climbing Dictionary (official title) – a.k.a. the Sicktionary (the better, underground title) – just came out. Matt’s a great writer and editor, and edited several of my features into readable works (no small task) while he was at Rock and Ice and Climbing magazines. So, for one, I’m giving a shameless plug (which I generally avoid, but fuck it, it’s my blog and I like the book): Check out the Sicktionary, it’s fun and informative, with 670 terms and climber-isms, and 130 illustrations by the super-talented Mike Tea to help ring-home the points. I latched onto it in large part because I hear so many fun, funny, absurd and cliché terms in my work with the AAJ – see below, a clip from the online version, where you can submit new terms:

Also, since I blather incessantly (“Just what in god’s holy name are you blathering about?”), Matt picked-up some of my terms for the book. Pasted below are a couple that I helped with. Fun stuff. OK, I’m supposed to be in Pakistan, trying to send the sickgnar. Better get back at it.

From Matt Samet’s new Climbing Dictionary:

Disaster style adv, n : Alpine style taken to a near-lethal extreme, as in going so fast-and-light that you must succeed, lacking the provisions for an extended bivouac or epic retreat.

*Origin: The Colorado climber Kelly Cordes and his friend Brent Armstrong invented the term to mean,says Cordes, “risk-accepted climbing, like going for it, punching it without the 10 Essentials and what-the-fuck-not.” The epitome is Cordes and Josh Wharton’s July 2004 first ascent of Azeem Ridge (VII 5.11 R/X M6 A2), the 7,400-foot Southwest Ridge of Pakistan’s Great Trango Tower: The world’s longest alpine rock climb. Cordes and Wharton took five days, running out of water after day two; they carried only 20 cams (spilling six atop pitch two) and some nuts, a few pitons, a lead and a tag line, lightweight sleeping bags, rock shoes, approach sneakers, aluminum crampons, one ice axe, and a modified (sawed-off) third tool. The parched climbers survived by slurping at drips and snow patches with plastic straws, only coming to a (glacial) water source after epic diagonalling rappels on the descent. As a philosophy, disaster style can also apply to life. See also, safety-fifth climbing.

“Safety-fifth” climbing phr : Versus the “safety-first” mentality, in which every attempt is made to reduce risk, “safety-fifth” (aka “safety-third”) sidesteps considerations of risk in pursuit of the larger goal; that is, you’re not climbing with deliberate recklessness, but also don’t base every decision on personal longevity.

*Origin: The Coloradan Josh Wharton uses this term, though isn’t certain he invented it. Kelly Cordes recalls first hearing it from Wharton in 2004 a week after their disaster style FA of Azeem Ridge. “We were bivied in this nasty gully on Nameless Tower,” says Cordes, “exposed to some rockfall, not well sheltered. In the night all this rockfall comes flying down and scared the f–k out of me.” Though Cordes woke up jittery, wondering if they should relocate, Wharton merely rolled over, mumbled “Safety fifth,” and dropped back to sleep.