Who Said That? Done - See Part 2

Good one! Fred Beckey was born before the six hundredth anniversary of that ascent. Very few of us can make such a claim. (I cannot.)

Antoine De Ville? Mt. Aiguille. But that doesn't add up with your 600 year anniversary since it was 1492.

Our ascent took place in 1336, and you cannot drive to the summit plateau of Mont Aiguille. The country is right, though, and the height is reasonably close.

Father of Humanism?

Mont Ventoux. Petrarch...

Yes, Petrarch and Mont Ventoux!

My bet is Ötzi the Iceman sent harder rigs than that "mont".

Ok, here's a fun one:

"Difficulties immediately increased as we started up the
nearly vertical wall. For 300 ft. wet slabs and difficult pitches,
with a few overhangs mixed in, were climbed. Many pitons were
used for safety on this wall, which was no place for one who suffered
from acrophobia. The most difficult pitch was a traverse on a
vertical face with very delicate holds followed by a wet high angled
slab with few useful holds. I had luckily noticed the wet slab
from below and redonned my felt pullovers, for one couldn’t hope
to stick on the wet slab in tennis shoes. Several times ice fragments
broke off the summit ridge and thundered down the chimneys
to our left. I was inwardly glad we weren’t in their paths."

Beckey?

Monomaniac wrote:Beckey?

Ding ding!

Figured either your or Mike might know this one.

1943 AAJ. Second ascent of Waddington. Beckey was 19, his bro turned 17 on the trip. Crazy.

Yeah, I've always remembered the line about "felt pullovers". I know fishermen use felt to stick to wet rocks, but it seems to not have caught on with rock climbers. I suppose they're no match for crampons.

Wasn't "poorly dressed fishermen" a Beckey line?

Too fun.

I believe felt soles were the norm for rock climbing in the 1930s. I recently read Cassin's account of their FA of the Walker Spur in 1938. He remarks that the new Vibram soles had the great advantage that they worked on both rock and ice and let them save a lot of time by not having to switch footwear.

I know a big step for me as an alpinist was when I realized that you should just climb everything in your crampons, then you don't have to waste time switching. It makes the rock climbing a bit less secure, but is much faster.

Sorry I've been remiss in posting a new quote. This from a little known master:

"We were starting to do bouldering on leads, except that this type of climbing tended to have an endurance aspect that I found I did not enjoy. My thought was that if I was going to be bouldering it made a lot more sense to do it on boulders. So this is why I mostly stopped roped climbing, and I became unknown as a boulderer, rather than known as a sport climber."

Gill? Erickson?

No, No.

Chris Jones?

Correct. Made the first free ascent of the Monkey, before becoming one of the best boulderers in the country.

(The names have been changed for sport)

"The Pass:

Bart, Butthead and I were headed to Bear Creek Spire for a blitz of the N Arete. We were headed up 108 to Yosemite.

Yall know the highway quite well, so I'm sure you know the exact spot in question as well as the typical in-season tourist traffic. We were headed up in the afternoon, the worst time for slow pokes and morons of course.

Coming out of Chinese Camp the highway descends to Don Pedro Reservoir, goes over that curved bridge and then up the hill and right around another corner and past the murder rest stop. Where it crests that hill is the left hand turn for the road that goes over the big bridge over the lake and immediately after that 108 is like a 2 mile straightaway that gently slopes down to the fish hatchery and power plant at the base of the Priest Grade.

Capice? Are you with me?

OK, so I'm driving and as I cross the curvy bridge and climb the rise I can see a very long line of cars ahead of me, depressingly long. We're gonna be sucking their sh#t all the way to the park. Damn!

I keep on trucking, doing about 65 mph, the speed limit. Just as we crest the hill we approach the tail car in the chain. It seems like a waste of time to pass, but I have a mountain driving philosophy that no matter how long the line, no matter how hopeless, you takes yer legal passes where you find them, you work the line. ALWAYS work the line. Cuz you just never know...

So dutifully, I pull into the opposing lane and step on the gas.

And so began The Pass.

My friends, rarely in life are we granted a simultaneous convergence of the stars and fates and the absence of police cruisers and competitive passers and angry 'I can't pass so I'll be damned if I let you' drivers.

There were no oncoming cars. Just this massive line, geeze, we didn't count them as we had no idea about the upcoming miracle.

I passed the first car and accelerated. My companions said nothing out loud but their body language spoke volumes... 'yer wasting yer time Beavis...'

I passed the 2nd car hitting our stride at 75 mph. I never went faster than that, fearing the law. I kept expecting another car to pull out in front of me. It didn't happen. I kept squinting through the windshield, looking for oncoming traffic. There was none.

We passed the 3rd car. And then the 4th. And the 5th. And the 6th. Still the line of cars stretch ahead to 'infinity and beyond' and still we kept passing cars.

7, 8, 9, 10 cars went by and still I was the lone car in the lane, no one in front of me, no one following my example from behind. We were passing trucks, motor homes, vans, Taurus rentals, sports cars, the works. We peered anxiously at the line ahead, expecting to see a CHP lurking in there, waiting for the likes of me to come zooming by. NO CHP FOR US!

11, 12, 13, 14 cars and still no oncoming traffic! About half of the straightaway was behind us now and for the first time I could see the lead car, an old jalopy doing like 45 - 50 mph. It was halfway down the final stretch to the big curve where Hwy 49 turns right at Rattlesnake Bar.

I figured a car would round that distant bend and that would be that. Nothing doing, I still owned the passing lane.

By now Bart and Butthead had roused from their drug induced stupor and were chanting, I am perfectly serious, they were chanting,

"Beav-is, BEAVIS, BEAVIS! And still I kept passing...

15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20 cars and STILL I OWNED THE PASSING LANE, still doing just 75 mph.

Now there were just a few cars remaining and the curve was fast approaching. 21, 22, 23, 24, and with about 100 feet of legal passing lane left, I passed the lead car, got back in the correct lane just as the double stripe commenced and an oncoming car rounded the bend simultaneously.

Bart and Butthead were all, DHUDE!!!!!! A beam of light pierced the clouds and a chorus of angels hummed Ahhh AHHHHHHHHHHHH!! as we did the right turn onto the Priest Grade and climbed the hill with no cars in sight.

....

We ran unopposed all the way to the gates of Yosemite after that.

It was the most amazing afternoon drive to the park, ever.

The Pass will go down in our local climbing lore as the most amazing feat of touron passing ever. Nothing will ever come close to that. We still speak in awe and reverence from time to time, of the day The Pass went down."

Mike Anderson wrote:A little long, but worth the read.... (The names have been changed for sport) "The Pass: Bart, Butthead and I were headed to Bear Creek Spire for a blitz of the N Arete. We were headed up 108 to Yosemite. Yall know the highway quite well, so I'm sure you know the exact spot in question as well as the typical in-season tourist traffic. We were headed up in the afternoon, the worst time for slow pokes and morons of course. Coming out of Chinese Camp the highway descends to Don Pedro Reservoir, goes over that curved bridge and then up the hill and right around another corner and past the murder rest stop. Where it crests that hill is the left hand turn for the road that goes over the big bridge over the lake and immediately after that 108 is like a 2 mile straightaway that gently slopes down to the fish hatchery and power plant at the base of the Priest Grade. Capice? Are you with me? OK, so I'm driving and as I cross the curvy bridge and climb the rise I can see a very long line of cars ahead of me, depressingly long. We're gonna be sucking their sh#t all the way to the park. Damn! I keep on trucking, doing about 65 mph, the speed limit. Just as we crest the hill we approach the tail car in the chain. It seems like a waste of time to pass, but I have a mountain driving philosophy that no matter how long the line, no matter how hopeless, you takes yer legal passes where you find them, you work the line. ALWAYS work the line. Cuz you just never know... So dutifully, I pull into the opposing lane and step on the gas. And so began The Pass. My friends, rarely in life are we granted a simultaneous convergence of the stars and fates and the absence of police cruisers and competitive passers and angry 'I can't pass so I'll be damned if I let you' drivers. There were no oncoming cars. Just this massive line, geeze, we didn't count them as we had no idea about the upcoming miracle. I passed the first car and accelerated. My companions said nothing out loud but their body language spoke volumes... 'yer wasting yer time Beavis...' I passed the 2nd car hitting our stride at 75 mph. I never went faster than that, fearing the law. I kept expecting another car to pull out in front of me. It didn't happen. I kept squinting through the windshield, looking for oncoming traffic. There was none. We passed the 3rd car. And then the 4th. And the 5th. And the 6th. Still the line of cars stretch ahead to 'infinity and beyond' and still we kept passing cars. 7, 8, 9, 10 cars went by and still I was the lone car in the lane, no one in front of me, no one following my example from behind. We were passing trucks, motor homes, vans, Taurus rentals, sports cars, the works. We peered anxiously at the line ahead, expecting to see a CHP lurking in there, waiting for the likes of me to come zooming by. NO CHP FOR US! 11, 12, 13, 14 cars and still no oncoming traffic! About half of the straightaway was behind us now and for the first time I could see the lead car, an old jalopy doing like 45 - 50 mph. It was halfway down the final stretch to the big curve where Hwy 49 turns right at Rattlesnake Bar. I figured a car would round that distant bend and that would be that. Nothing doing, I still owned the passing lane. By now Bart and Butthead had roused from their drug induced stupor and were chanting, I am perfectly serious, they were chanting, "Beav-is, BEAVIS, BEAVIS! And still I kept passing... 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20 cars and STILL I OWNED THE PASSING LANE, still doing just 75 mph. Now there were just a few cars remaining and the curve was fast approaching. 21, 22, 23, 24, and with about 100 feet of legal passing lane left, I passed the lead car, got back in the correct lane just as the double stripe commenced and an oncoming car rounded the bend simultaneously. Bart and Butthead were all, DHUDE!!!!!! A beam of light pierced the clouds and a chorus of angels hummed Ahhh AHHHHHHHHHHHH!! as we did the right turn onto the Priest Grade and climbed the hill with no cars in sight. .... We ran unopposed all the way to the gates of Yosemite after that. It was the most amazing afternoon drive to the park, ever. The Pass will go down in our local climbing lore as the most amazing feat of touron passing ever. Nothing will ever come close to that. We still speak in awe and reverence from time to time, of the day The Pass went down."

Laying it on a little thick there thread killer!

Sure sounds like something John Long would write.