|
|
|
|
dingus
Jun 27, 2004, 3:50 PM
Post #1 of 2
(1489 views)
Shortcut
Registered: Dec 16, 2002
Posts: 17398
|
Angus invited me up to the rock at the Overlook yesterday. He was showing
his nephew
and his nephew's girlfriend the basics of rock climbing, top roping,
rapping, placing lead pro, you know, rock climbing 101. He thought I needed
to get out and sit in the trees or something. Between you and me I'm willing
to bet he picked this place just so I wouldn't have an excuse not to join
him.
So Gabby and I drove on up and she had a great time, climbing the flake,
flailing on the 5.9 crack. Mostly we just took it easy. It was a very
pleasant day.
Anyway, as we're all loitering about at the base of the rock, a tall, thin,
silver haired gentleman walked up to the rounded buttress, the 10c/d thing.
The hard face climb. And interestingly, as I was watching, he reached up for
the first inobvious hold and twisted his hand in such a way that I instantly
knew he was a climber. More, I knew he had climbed that problem. I could
tell, to the depth of my bones.
He even highstepped to the foot foothold, and he did it right the first
time. Even knowing how to get started on that problem is an issue and it was
further confirmation I was looking at a climber, an experienced climber, a
Gray Beard.
Then a voice from over at the cars, "Don, you get down from there!" The
voice of authority, the wife no doubt, warning her husband he was not a
spring chicken anymore. Hmmm, says I, Don...
So presently Don steps down and wanders over our way. He approaches me, as I
cannot easily sprint away, and smiles in an amiable sort of way, almost
apolegetically for interrupting our little climbing school, and says,
"Hi, how ya doing?" I smile my answer, I'm doing well sitting here with my
daughter in the bright Sierra sunshine. He continues, "I used to do a little
climbing around here when I was younger. Used to climb this rock in fact!
That thing right there..."
"That's a hard one!" I interrupt, the impatience of youth (43, hehe). That's
a real deal boulder problem and one only a scant few would attempt without a
rope or a pile of pads. There's an ancient 1/4 incher up there, hmmm, wonder
who placed that thing?
So we talk for a couple of minutes and it turns out this guy has been
climbing up in these parts for years. Years. Many, many years. I tell him of
some recent adventures and a bright glint in his eye fires to life as I look
at him. An excitement, a, I don't know, that spark you feel when you first
realize you are talking to a kindred spirit.
I admit to having lived in Modesto for years. I mention that I too have been
climbing up here for closing in on two decades. He cants his head to the
side now, looking at me, surely wondering why he doesn't know me. Smiling,
he extends his hand and introduces himself,
"Don Potter." Well shiver me timbers Brutus, I was standing there talking to
Don Potter. I couldn't have been more amazed if Royal Robins had hopped out
of his Silverado to watch Angus 3rd class the Robbins Crack crack 3 times in
a row.
"Man, I can't tell you what a pleasure it is to meet you." And immediately I
called the class over to introduce them all. It was a genuine treat. See,
here we were at this little granite boulder tucked away in a forgotten
corner of the Sierra Nevada. And standing in this loose circle 4 generations
of climbers; the aging Gray Beard Master, two journeymen, and 3 beginners
ranging from 12 to 25.
Tribes. Sometimes its all about tribes. We all certainly seemed to feel a
kinship standing there next to gods granite, under those tall ponderosas.
So Don and I sort of walked off to the side for a few minutes to discuss the
details of our common adventures. We talked about stuck rappel ropes and
belay ledges with big trees on them. We talked about going out right to
avoid steep and wide nastys. We expressed our mutual respect for the
boldness of the lines that take on the central face, that man from
Bakersfield.
I broke out the guidebook and we traced lines, and laughed about the
objective hazards and the silliness of it all. I told the Iron Bar tale with
relish (and some pickles on the side).
We were each equally vague, it hindsight, about just where we were going,
what we were doing and how far we'd got in the process. I certainly left the
entire conversation open ended.
Don introduced his wife and sadly I have misplaced her name. She is a very
nice lady and very gracious, as I suspect many or most 'climber's mates' are
when their loved one fall in with some of their brethren. She smiled with
patience and tolerance, even with a glow in her smile, as she watched her
husband recount some of his climbs to some folks who obviously knew and
respected him as a climber.
I showed her some of the pics in the guide book, tracing lines and
expressing gratitude and respect for the guy who helped pave the way. We
talked about mutual acquaintences and then a quick glance at the watch and,
"We have to get going!" Goodbyes from everyone and off they went.
Hey, I got up that layback crack btw... hehe. Went over to the overlook...
my my.
Some days climbing can be as miserable a thing there is. Some days climbing
can be the most amazing gift imaginable.
And most days its somewhere in between.
Yesterday it was helluva closer to the gift than the misery.
Cheers my friends
DMT
|
|
|
|
|
jackscoldsweat
Jun 27, 2004, 6:37 PM
Post #2 of 2
(1489 views)
Shortcut
Registered: Jun 18, 2003
Posts: 380
|
Thank you for posting this for all to read.
JCS
|
|
|
|
|
|
