redacted

Tyson Anderson wrote: lasvegassun.com/news/2010/n…

Darren. I haven't checked the LV link but I personally read an email from his sister Jane late last night. A positive ID has been made.

There was some confusion on an earlier report of some remains not being human but that was it...confusion, surrounding another set of bones.

~Susan

Michael Stacy wrote:Probably shouldn't get involved in speculation as to the circumstances (especially since this is an RIP thread) but since it is quite puzzling and since the other thread has been locked I'll do it here. As to why his vehicle was found at the Silverton and now his remains are discovered so far away in Black Velvet Canyon. One possibility I haven't seen considered (but maybe I missed it) is that someone else drove his vehicle back from BVC and left it at the Silverton. This would of course indicate foul play or at least someone knowing something but not saying. My condolences to the family and friends of John Rosholt and my apologies if this post is inappropriate. I hope that you have received some measure of relief and I also hope that the questions that remain will also be answered.

Michael -- the other thread has been unlocked now. Thanks for your sentiments about speculation, and I don't think your post is inappropriate. That having been said, it might be best to post any further questions about the circumstances in the old thread, and reserve this one for memorial posts.

JL

Sorry to hear the news. More sorry I had not met the man. Glad you are sharing the stories now.

Damn! I just have to write another Rosholt story. I sat at the base of Medlicott Dome, watching him lead Ciebola, (10c, but freaky),he takes this 15 footer, on the diagonal, (Marc Hirt was belaying-flawless catch). John gets back on, climbs out to the crux, spends about a lifetime there, on tiny knobs, and sends. (We didn't call it "sending" back then.) As I was pawing in the scree, watching, I picked up a seashell! WTF?!?

He was one in 6.5 billion, that guy, tearing up, gotta go

John was a climbing partner of mine. We put up some good routes together.

Keen, very cool pic! I'm not sure I've ever seen a picture of him with a beard.

I met John in Eldo with Newberry and someone else (who escapes me at the moment. Maybe Pulaski) in 1975. He was outgoing and gregarious and just started talking to me. The conversation quickly led to the realization that we all were attending WSC in Gunnison. John sensed in me a willing pawn that could be easily duped into his brand of raw go for it. We climbed late into the evening and headed back towards Golden in his beater Dodge Rambler. I was driving as he was partaking and imbibing. The man had prodigious capacities. In those days the speed limit signs on hiway "pray for me I drive 93" were considered by us to be more sensible suggestions than actual laws. So there we are speeding into Golden at 90+ mph, me driving, John telling wild stories in his wry humorous manner. Without warning I hit a car rattling pot hole that takes out the breaks. Screaming into town, white knuckled, clench jawed, stomping on empty air for brakes and just barely in control, I perform a panicked emergency stop procedure that primarily involves slamming the car into reverse stomping on the emergency brake and holding on for dear life. John is still talking, telling his animated tales with grandiose arm movements. Barreling towards a gas station I'm wondering if he even knows we are about to perish. When the dust settles the rumbling rambler has ground to a screeching halt mere inches from the gas pumps. We are miraculously unscathed. I am hyperventilating and sweating profusely. John is finishing his anecdotal story. He looks at me with just a trace of wide eyed recognition. "that was Desperate" he said then popped the top on another Fosters like nothing happened. "What do you want to climb tomorrow" he asked.

John was a powerful force and an unflappable eminently competent partner. I have so many memories.
Rest in Peace old friend. You are missed.

My deepest condolences to family and friends. I am gladdened that part of the mystery is over.

(re posted from Supertopo, by request from Phil Broscovak)

John loved Eldo, he'd drive from Gunnison to Boulder on the weekends just to climb and then roll back into town on Monday morning for classes. He would talk about routes like Le Toit and Cest La Vie. One day we were looking at the cover of Climbing magagazine and there was a great picture of Michael Gilbert doing the Kloberdanz roof (Michael was the brother of our good friend, the late Scotty Gilbert). I asked John if he had done that roof, "yeah, I did it in my Adidas". In those days, John climbed many routes in those old blown out Adidas.

John once showed me a fuzzy black and white 8mm film, taken when he was in high school, of one of his first climbing adventures on The Maiden. I think he was about 16 yrs old and he takes a huge swinging ripper on the pitch. His partner, another young Denver high school punk named Dave Breashears. I wonder what ever happened to that movie?

Ok so first, RIP John, I did not know you personal but you have lead the way for us all.
Second, If he was found 5 years after he went missing, that must mean that no one has climbed the whole route in 5 years. That just seems to be weird that not one has finished the whole route, as the remains where found so high.

RIP John and hope that family finally finds peace.

Another good one moves on.
So sad...
RIP John

buckethead, that's the john that I remember.

RIP John. I had the pleasure of climbing with him at Squamish during the summer of 1996. I had just lead Clean Crack and lowered off and this older guy wanted to run a lap on my top rope. Turns out that he made it look much easier than I did and told a story of getting the first free ascent of Clean Crack. I wasn't sure who he was at the time, but after watching him climb I knew he was the real deal. He floated up everything I lead that day and offered great encouragement for me to push my limits.

Nov 22, 2010 - 03:21pm PT
Sometime back in the mid 80’s we had an especially long and drawn out winter.
We hardly climbed other than occasional bouldering sessions at Morison.
My primary climbing partner in those days was Maurice Reed.
We were planning a road trip to somewhere with better weather.
After hearing about our plans our friend Pierrette wanted to go.She was a great cook and had some cash to help with expenses.
This put us with a party of three so we set out to find a forth.
After exhausting all of our usual possibilities Maurice said,” How about Johnny Rotten? He‘s always up for something”.

We go over to where John was living at the time.
His truck was parked in the street out in front of the house.
We left a note on the door. GOING CLIMBING NEED A FOURTH, J-TREE/RR.
There had been a lot of snow that year and the shady side of John’s truck still had a drift against it. There were no tire tracks. It obviously hadn’t been moved in a very long time. In passing we peeked in the passenger window. Maurice said,” Man check this out!” I looked inside and laughed when I noticed that out of the debris and dirt on the flour there were a number of healthy 6 to 8 inch plants growing directly out of the carpet.

John found the note and he was totally up for a climbing trip. His only request was that when we were in Vegas he would like to sit in on a poker game or two just to offset his expenses. Maurice, Pierrette or myself knew nothing about John’s poker interests so we said, “sure no problem”.

With our team assembled we maintained the van and packed the camping and climbing gear for a great early spring climbing road trip.
Our first stop was going to be Indian Creek near Moab but it was so cold that we decided to keep going to Las Vegas.

We pulled on to the strip and John asked if we could stop at a casino just to look around a bit.
The next thing we knew he was absorbed a game and we couldn’t get his attention. When we finally got him to acknowledge us it was way late and he said that he was on a streak and if we would bear with him he was sure that he would make enough to pay for all the expenses for the trip.
Well,we wound up sleeping on the parking lot of the casino that night.
At daylight there was a knock on the door of the van and it was John ready to go climb.

This scenario went on for the whole trip. Several times we dropped John off at the casino in the evening and picked him up in the morning. There was no such thing as just a few hands with John on that trip.

We did quite a few notable first assents on that trip. In fact everything we climbed was ether a new route or we had no knowledge of it being climbed.
Back in those days there was no guide book to Red Rocks.
Also in those days Red Rocks was not a park. It was rugged, drive anywhere, unimproved trails out in the desert.

I woke at dawn one morning to the sound of automatic weapon fire right next to our camp.
There was a Cadillac convertible with the top down parked no more than 50 yards away from our van. Standing next to the Caddie was a guy the size of a box car dressed in a business suit with a machine gun in his hand and he was just mooowin the desert down with blasts of gun fire.
We hunkered down in our sleeping bags and prayed that he would go away.
Maurice and Pierrette were having mild desert romance so John and I usually teamed up for climbing after he had played cards all night.
He never minded taking his leads but was more than happy to second when I wanted the sharp end. Back in those days I was somewhat of a lead hog any way.

One particular climb that still stands out that John and I did on that trip was in Oak Creek Canyon.
The details of the first pitches are a blur but the final pitch will stay in my quiver of unique climbing memories.
This pitch was Johns lead.
The climbing up to this point had been on those solid dark purple, almost black, mushroom holds that are unique to Red Rocks.
The pitch before was mine and the shrooms had been getting exponentially lighter in color and protection scarcer by the meter. In fact I had a hard time finding enough pieces to construct a sound belay when I finished the lead.
At this point I expressed to John,” I think we should bail and leave all this stuff in as anchors!”
John wasn’t having any of that and started setting up the rack for the next pitch!
He set out climbing on brown shrooms and getting very little gear in. The further he climbed the gear got scarcer and the shroom holds got lighter in color.
I didn’t mention that we had NO bolt kit.
Silently John calculated the hold sequences and face climbed with smooth deliberate progress.
He never backed down or even looked down.
That’s when it started to rain!
Not water, but, white sandstone mushrooms!
Every time he unweighted a hold to move to the next one it fell away!
I was terrified by the fact that he hadn’t placed a single protection placement for a very long time.
The dynamics of a leader fall from that far out would have ripped my belay anchors right out of the rock.
Every hold that he unweighted dislodged and to make matters worse he was nearly out of rope.
It seemed the he was way past half rope since he placed a piece.
At one point the thought of untying from the rope crossed my mind.
I held on in stupefied silence for what seemed like a long time to me. Finally I heard him say that he was off belay.
I didn’t even ask what the belay anchor was like. I just pulled the gear and started climbing.
The same thing happened as I climbed but a lot sooner. Each hold that I used popped from the face as I unweighted it all the way to the belay ledge!
He had found some cracks for a belay so I was protected while seconding that pitch. We found good rappel anchors for the decent.

Around the fire that night I asked if John if he minded calling the route, “Toxic Shroom Syndrome”.

Great story Olaf.

Here's an image to add. Picture John Rosholt in Thailand, on Rai Lai Bay, walking back with us from a morning climb, through the sand on that narrow spit on the West side.

There are topless women strewn hither and yon all over the beach, sunbathing. We have to wend our way between them. They were all quite lovely, I kid you not.
John is walking behind me, and after meandering quietly past probably thirty semi bikini'd girls he sings out something like; "The climb was all right, but the approach and walkout are unreal."

Ha ha ha gooood one.

i recognize some of the names that have posted here. memories from long ago.

i knew john when he lived in gunnison in the early 80's. we were roommates above the deli on main street. i can remember john fleecing us at poker even then, after the game we would sneak down the back stairs and snag us a sandwich.

john and i also did a road trip to joshua tree. we hitched from gunnison to jtree. had a great time climbing together.

it was many years later that i ran into john again. this time in red rocks. it was an unexpected reunion. he led me up prince of darkness (he did humor me and let me lead the first pitch) and we got in a few other routes which were way too hard for me.

it seems like everywhere i climbed with john he was dragging me up. it was always good fun though.

i have often thought of john over the years and wondered how he was getting along. i had not heard he had gone missing. it was with great sadness i read that he had been found.

les lloyd

Mark your calendars or input your smart phones for two concurrent and outstanding shows at Neptune Mountaineering in Boulder. May 18th& 19th.
One show as a tribute to climbing great John Rosholt (aka the Gambler), and another a retrospective of the early days of climbing in Red Rock Nevada by Vegas pioneer Jorge Urioste. Money raised will go to help Layton Kor with medical expenses. Stay tuned for details.

Les, I certainly remember the name, but my old cranky brain can't seem to put a face to it. Maybe if you put a picture on your account, or remind me a little, like were you a geo major, did you know Eric Bard?

Cheers,
Scott Mossman