The Ethics of Stickers

chalk is aid. just use twigs.

classic post.

Jason Young wrote: Hijacking another hijacker's thread is totally against the Hijackers' Code of Hijacking Ethics and Etiquette.

I disagree. The proper way to hijack a thread to announce you are not hijacking it or apologize for hijacking it and then go ahead and hijack it. That was done here so it is totally acceptable.

Let's not turn this into a thread about hijacking threads..... OK?

Rick Blair wrote: I disagree. The proper way to hijack a thread to announce you are not hijacking it or apologize for hijacking it and then go ahead and hijack it. That was done here so it is totally acceptable. Let's not turn this into a thread about hijacking threads..... OK?

I apologize. I have reread the Hijackers' Code of Hijacking Ethics and Etiquette and it seems that I missed that specific clause.

Personally I would never dream of hijacking anybody's hijacking hijack. I might try to hijack the jackhammer training hijack though, and for that I will NOT apologize.

Does anyone have the number for Rock and Resole? The internet is broken and I can't find their number anywhere!

Peter Beal wrote:Does anyone have the number for Rock and Resole? The internet is broken and I can't find their number anywhere!

Someone should print up some ethical stickers with said number and hand them out so that this never becomes an issue again. I would put one on my car next to my Coexist and Yer Gonna Die stickers.

FrankPS wrote:You signed up today to post this nonsense?

That just makes it even better. The Internet, and especially MP needs more like Jezmund.

As for the gravel and twigs... I just use the little pull string. Except on this one chalk bag I had which was made by Cypher Climbing. I don't remember where I got that godforsaken thing. Probably a gift from my mom or sister. Maybe they didn't want me climbing and thought that if I couldn't get to my chalk I couldn't climb. Anyway, the draw string on that POS runs through a tube, the purpose of which is to jam up whenever you pull the cord.

Not to hijack this thread, but...
Ill never forget the day I disposed of that vile vessel. I filled the bag in the parking lot of a popular crag and, knowing the approach was rife with twigs and gravel, I pulled the string tight. The morning air was crisp and cold, but the sun was shining and my mood was bright. There was one other car in the lot but the group seemed to be in no hurry, and seemed content puffing away at their putrefying cancer sticks. I took a min or two to get my head together.

Just as I was about to set off, the ring leader approached me. He seemed friendly enough, at first. but I already had my suspicions. He and his band seemed out of place, and looked as though they would be more comfortable perched upside down on top of a keg of keystone in a frat house basement. We spoke for a bit about the routes we had done and recommended a few to each other. As we spoke his crew spontaneously organized and set off down the trail. Damn, I had been baited! I asked him where he was headed, hoping in vain that it wasn't the one 4 star classic moderate a mere 100 yds from the trail head.

I know I was naive to think I would be able to get up early enough beat the crowd to the Starbucks of climbing routes and get a quick lap in before breakfast. But, to be fair, my fantasy was tantalizingly close to reality. I just needed to exercise some tact.

"I am hoping to do a quick run up that route myself. Would you mind if I go ahead of your group?". Noticing that I was carrying no rope and was alone, bait boy connected the dots but seemed caught off guard by the logical conclusion. "Are you free soloing it!?". "Yes", I replied. "I'm sure the guys won't mind if you go ahead, as long as you are fast, and promise not to fall on us". WTF, while I am at it, maybe i should promise not to bleed on their gear too.

I quickly caught up to and passed the rest of the band, who were having some conversation about pink-pointing vs red-pointing. I noticed that each of them brandished a shiny new GriGri and wondered if any of them was aware of the inexorable fate invited by such a device.

I arrived at the base of the route. A mere 5.7, but its subtle lines are a siren song to all who gaze upon it. The first established route at the crag, she was on-sighted by her first ascentinoist, who was so entranced by her movement that he forgot to place any protection until he found himself at the top. Like most temptresses, she incited quarrels among her devotees. The first ascentionist had unwittingly established high standards for her, and while other nearby routes were bolted and conquered by any gym rat with a rope. She had avoided such a fate. But like many Vixens, as she aged she slipped into banality, and it was only a matter of time until she was bolted like the rest. When word spread of her fate, her loyal fans attempted in vain to restore her to her pedestal by chopping the bolts; but her emergence from obscurity had shined new light upon her, a less exclusive light, yes, but a bright one. I can't help but think that she welcomed the attention. Inevitably, the bolters prevailed.

As i dawned my climbing shoes, the rabble was close behind. I would be consumed by the toxic plume enveloping them if i wasn't quick. But that's why slippers are my weapon of choice... Just one more thing to do. During a Solo ascent, i sometimes find it necessary to repeat a ritual to ward off fear whenever it begins to creep up. As part of this ritual, my fingers must be immersed in ancient organic secretions. Naturally, I house this mystical dust in my chalk bag.

I picked ineffectually at vestibule of the bag trying to coax it open. The toxic cloud approached. I unclipped the bag from the back of my harness, and with both hands frantically attempted to un-sieze it. There were twigs resting on top, i brushed them away to analyze the blockage, but it was futile.

As the gang grew impatient with my struggle, the ring leader spoke. "We are roped up and ready to go. I'm setting a top rope. You are welcome to top-rope it if you would like". "Top rope! that's not free climbing! That's like getting a lap dance from a supermodel wearing a hazmat suit", I thought. I felt rejected, as if the route herself had turned her back to me while taking bait boy by the hand.

I tossed the chalk bag to the ground, and retreated back to my car. I haven't visited that route since.

cyclestupor wrote: That just makes it even better. The Internet, and especially MP needs more like Jezmund. As for the gravel and twigs... I just use the little pull string. Except on this one chalk bag I had which was made by Cypher Climbing. I don't remember where I got that godforsaken thing. Probably a gift from my mom or sister. Maybe they didn't want me climbing and thought that if I couldn't get to my chalk I couldn't climb. Anyway, the draw string on that POS runs through a tube, the purpose of which is to jam up whenever you pull the cord. Not to hijack this thread, but... Ill never forget the day I disposed of that vile vessel. I filled the bag in the parking lot of a popular crag and, knowing the approach was rife with twigs and gravel, I pulled the string tight. The morning air was crisp and cold, but the sun was shining and my mood was bright. There was one other car in the lot but the group seemed to be in no hurry, and seemed content puffing away at their putrefying cancer sticks. I took a min or two to get my head together. Just as I was about to set off, the ring leader approached me. He seemed friendly enough, at first. but I already had my suspicions. He and his band seemed out of place, and looked as though they would be more comfortable perched upside down on top of a keg of keystone in a frat house basement. We spoke for a bit about the routes we had done and recommended a few to each other. As we spoke his crew spontaneously organized and set off down the trail. Damn, I had been baited! I asked him where he was headed, hoping in vain that it wasn't the one 4 star classic moderate a mere 50 feet from the trail head. I know I was naive to think I would be able to get up early enough beat the crowd to the Starbucks of climbing routes and get a quick lap in before breakfast. But, to be fair, my fantasy was tantalizingly close to reality. I just needed to exercise some tact. "I am hoping to do a quick run up that route myself. Would you mind if I go ahead of your group?". Noticing that I was carrying no rope and was alone, bait boy connected the dots but seemed caught off guard by the logical conclusion. "Are you free soloing it!?". "Yes", I replied. "I'm sure the guys won't mind if you go ahead, as long as you are fast, and promise not to fall on us". WTF, while I am at it, maybe i should promise not to bleed on their gear too. I quickly caught up to and passed the rest of the band, who were having some conversation about pink-pointing vs red-pointing. I noticed that each of them brandished a shiny new GriGri and wondered if any of them was aware of the inexorable fate invited by such a device. I arrived at the base of the route. A mere 5.7, but its subtle lines are a siren song to all who gaze upon it. The first established route at the crag, she was on-sighted by her first ascentinoist, who was so entranced by her movement that he forgot to place any protection until he found himself at the top. Like most temptresses, she incited quarrels among her devotees. The first ascentionist had unwittingly established high standards for her, and while other nearby routes were bolted and conquered by any gym rat with a rope. This one had avoided such a fate. But like many Vixens, as she aged she slipped into banality, and it was only a matter of time until she was bolted like the rest. When word spread of her fate, her loyal fans attempted in vain to restore her to her pedestal by chopping the bolts; but her emergence from obscurity had shined new light upon her, a less exclusive light, yes, but a bright one. I can't help but think that she welcomed the attention. Inevitably, the bolters prevailed. As i dawned my climbing shoes, the rabble was close behind. I would be consumed by the toxic plume enveloping them if i wasn't quick. But that's why slippers are my weapon of choice... Just one more think to do. During a Solo ascent, i sometimes find it necessary to repeat a ritual to ward off fear whenever it begins to creep up. As part of this ritual, my fingers must be immersed in ancient organic secretions. Naturally, I house this mystical dust in my chalk bag. I picked ineffectually at vestibule of the bag trying to coax it open. The toxic cloud approached. I unclipped the bag from the back of my harness, and with both hands frantically attempted to un-sieze it. There were twigs resting on top, i brushed them away to analyze the blockage, but it was futile. As the gang grew impatient with my struggle, the ring leader spoke. "We are roped up and ready to go. I'm setting a top rope. You are welcome to top-rope it if you would like". "Top rope! that's not free climbing! That's like getting a lap dance from a supermodel wearing a hazmat suite", I thought. I felt rejected, as if the route herself had turned her back to me while taking bait boy by the hand. I tossed the chalk bag to the ground, and retreated back to my car. I haven't visited that route since.

You signed up on MP a year ago to post this nonsense? :)

OP is best post on this site in quite some time. Hats off to you, sir.

Tavis Ricksecker wrote:OP is best post on this site in quite some time. Hats off to you, sir.

Can we give cyclestupor an honorable mention?

Jason Young wrote: Someone should print up some ethical stickers with said number and hand them out so that this never becomes an issue again. I would put one on my car next to my Coexist and Yer Gonna Die stickers.

(303) 440-0414

www.vistaprint.com/bumper-stickers

In the golden days many, many climbers also smoked cigarettes during the climb; in fact on an alpine expedition cigarettes were more cherished than sherpa tea. Back then, physicians would recommend that climbers smoke to enjoy the benefits of relaxation, focus and lung exercise.

Perhaps the commonplace cigarette smoking in the golden days helps to explain why there were so many more first ascents back then.

Beware of healthcare industry propaganda.

ErikLandahl wrote: (303) 440-0414 vistaprint.com/bumper-stickers In the golden days many, many climbers also smoked cigarettes during the climb; in fact on an alpine expedition cigarettes were more cherished than sherpa tea. Back then, physicians would recommend that climbers smoke to enjoy the benefits of relaxation, focus and lung exercise. Perhaps the commonplace cigarette smoking in the golden days helps to explain why there were so many more first ascents back then. Beware of healthcare industry propaganda.

Brilliant! Too much hysteria about the bad effects of smoking. As a friend of mine once said, "Anybody can quit smoking, but it takes a real man to fight cancer." :) Your post should also be in this thread:

mountainproject.com/v/cigar…

This would never have happened at Woodson, bro

Thank you for that (the original post by Jezmund). Made my day!

Amazing post I must say but wow! Can't believe people sent high jacking it, BUT PHISHING to high jack it into the Devils lake clusterfuck anchor
Thread and several times over the cigarettes and courtesy thread. That's goes deep! Let's not forget what this is really about which is getting bat shit and bird feathers in your chalk bag. I would say leave the bat shit
In there bat guano is supposed to have magic healing powers, even better than $40 dollar cans of Joshua tree cocoa butter baby oil

Jezmund wrote:So yesterday morning I was at the parking lot of a popular climbing area which I'm not going to reveal. I was smirking at the gumbies and smoking a cig as I psyched myself up to walk the mile-and-a-half to my chosen route when a Subaru pulled up and parked. Two climbers, a guy and a girl, got out of the sticker plastered car, hefted packs and walked toward the trailhead gate which I was standing next to. In a bad mood because I was about to walk an extra half mile since the parking lot was relocated some years ago, I blew a little cloud of smoke on the couple as they squeezed by me to go through the gate. "Pfft, tools," I thought as I reviewed the stickers on their car. All the usual climbing gear companies were represented: Petzl, Black Diamond, that stupid Backcountry goat sticker, and plenty more. Then I saw it: The faded Neptune Mountaineering sticker with three climbers roped together, tumbling down the Matterhorn. The image is from Edward Whymper's "Scrambles Amongst the Alps," a literary classic. I didn't need to focus to see the words; anybody who's been in the Front Range for a minute knows it reads, "Climbing, it rips the screams out of your mouth." The sticker itself might now be considered a classic but it was definitely the last thing I wanted to see before I soloed a popular 5.7. It's not that I'm not confident at the grade, but I knew the next hour would be spent obsessing over Helga, a buxom and good natured transvestite I'd fallen in love with in Zermatt. I won't go into the details of our liaison amoureuse but I'll admit it was the hottest month I'd spent in Switzerland. It was as though I'd found my raison d'etre. Alas, it ended too soon and on an emotional note. And now, here I was, alone and surrounded by n00bs who knew not the carnal pleasures of love nor the heady freedom of soloing high above the masses. Filled with sadness I walked back to my car and drove to the bar to forget Helga. Today is a brand new day and apart from soiling my trousers this morning upon awakening in an alley, it promises to be splendid. So now I'll ask of you, gentle The Proj members, the obvious question: How do you keep gravel and twigs from falling into your chalkbag?

I did her first. I don't use chalk. You're welcome.