Climber Dating

Aleks Zebastian wrote:

climbing friend,

as stated previously, for obvious it involves leaving trail of luna bar from the crag back to your manly camp, myahhh, adorned with wooden sculpture tributes to the gods, once she arrives, she will look on you shirtless bench pressing massive boulders, perhaps running at high speed to prove your fitness, and/or caring tenderly for your small furry animals family of pets, playing lyrical viking melody on your lute, or perhaps emitting deep sense calming universality and compassion with dreamy look from the eye from your many hours of silent meditations, or perhaps display your intelligence with rock art scratchings in your cave, at all times flexing your muscle meat as much as possible. She would become quite engaged by your high caliber masculine energy and most elevated way you are preparing your top ramen, yes, for romantic fireside dinner.

yes, constant flexing of muscle meat. Also one can drag back to the manly camp bright bits of plant material, or even deer turds, like this bird does:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E1zmfTr2d4c

also one must clean the display area, this bird does it quite well

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nWfyw51DQfU

Perfect? A really big objective. Departing the trail head at 2am. Double digit hiking distance. 4 digits of vertical feet gain. Back to the car by sundown followed by beer and comparing blister sizes. Does that last bit could as WEIRD or just weird?

The problem is trusting someone to do that with only a minimal contact prior to the excursion.

First you go rage all night long and wake up in your friends front yard at 7am for that first date to go climbing with that rad girl you met a few weeks ago.

Everything goes well on the approach.. you do your first pitch and while pulling through the crux and clipping the first bolt you pull up the rope and realize you havent finished your figure 9*. proceed to send anyways and have your soon to be bitchin' bad ass babe solo up to you and makeout while both simul soloing...

Next climb, assume its a 5.8 because you don't have mountain proj or a guide book since you're an out of towner.. hell theres a few jugs on the overhanging face. Proceed to get halfway up and whip all over the place. Opt out of the actual line and head left up the flaring OW because face it.. you are totally hosed from the night before.. while holding in your vom while suffering up the offwidth think about the future you are going to share together and clip another set of chains for a climb just left. Come down leave all your draws, cuz yer sick and proceed to have your date lead everything and just Top rope tough guy for the rest of the day.. after asking around you figure its just a 12+ you got worked on. Finish with a chilly dip in the river then bail only to cry yourself to sleep 1 year later.

*8

The perfect date consists of taking yer girl to the walmart supercenter in rifle and getting the alignment and tire rotation special while enjoying some kokanee cold ones. If shes up for it, show her how to use a grigri to winch your atv out of stepmoms yard. 

Bill got my atv stuck for the four time in our stepmoms yard on that date. that sob

Stich wrote:

And by "Deadpool" I assume you mean the recent Marvel superhero film and not the 1988 Dirty Harry travesty "The Dead Pool?"

The Dirty Harry version was no travesty.

Start by not making he mistake of dating a "climber". Cray cray!

I'm not sure if I would consider this perfect, but it was pretty solid. What follows is an account of my most recent first-ish date. This was a few months back (November?) and I'm still seeing the lady in question. 

Thursday, because why not.  Cross country skiing, because where we are,  there are not that many options.  Now, at this point I had never gone cross country skiing in my life, but the route is perfectly flat, so how hard can it be.  We meet up at the usual spot, the hand washing station, with another couple, and gather our things to go.  Seeing as many a joke had been made about me growing up in Texas, the only option was to arrive in blue jeans and a Cowboy hat.  Weather forecast be damned.  We head to the fire house to pick up radios and check out. It's less than five miles to Scott Base, but just to be safe and give plenty of buffer, we set our return time for midnight, giving us five hours.  While at the fire house, we get an update on weather.  Current Temperature 4F with winds gusting to 30 mph (did I mention  that this was Antarctica?).  Well... we didn't get all dressed up for nothing.  A quick radio check and we head out to the sea ice.  After finding out that not all of the skis fit all of the boots, we cuss and struggle and trade skis until we find a combination that works. Everyone is good to go and we turn our attention to the task at hand.  Flat, white, frozen ocean. 

Things start pretty reasonably as the three of us without experience learn how the fuck this is supposed to work and try our best to stay upright.  We take bets on who will eat shit first, thus owing a round of beer.  Smiles all around.  As we round the peninsula, things take a  turn. The wind hits us full in the face. Fuck.  Quickly, my beard becomes a block of ice.  We press on into the white ahead, and start to cover some ground.  Between heavy breathing and occasional snot rockets, we exchange jokes and talk about blue bird days. Pleasant uneventful hikes that quickly fade into oblivion.  Causal afternoons that no one cares about. We struggle joyfully

We stop.  Looking back, we cannot see town.  Dirty industrial McMurdo Station has disappeared.  Replaced by miles of frozen sea and a backdrop of glacial cut mountains jutting up out of the ocean. Pressure ridges and cracks in the ice.  Seals lounging lazily and bellowing.  The scene is unique and magnificent, truly unlike any other place on earth, but we can hardly appreciate it in the moment.  A hasty makeout session and we are back on the move.  It's just too damn cold. We book it, pressing hard to stay warm. I occasionally remove a glove, shoving my hand down my pants to keep my dick from freezing off as Kay laughs at my idiocy. I smile back though frozen beard, reveling in the absurdity of it all.  The weather is miserable and we are fools.

 Eventually, we make it to Scott Base. The bar is closed but the ever hospitable Kiwis welcome us in and let us warm up on the couches with our flask of Fireball (don't judge me).  Now 11:30, we radio in to extend our check in time to 1am,  preventing Search and Rescue from going to work. We hitch a ride back to McMurdo, and while I don't remember exactly where things went from there, my guess is we passed out in blissful exhaustion.

Hell of a first date.

Garrett Collier wrote:

I'm not sure if I would consider this perfect, but it was pretty solid. What follows is an account of my most recent first-ish date. This was a few months back (November?) and I'm 9still seeing the lady in question. 

Thursday, because why not.  Cross country skiing, because where we are,  there are not that many options.  Now, at this point I had never gone cross country skiing in my life, but the route is perfectly flat, so how hard can it be.  We meet up at the usual spot, the hand washing station, with another couple, and gather our things to go.  Seeing as many a joke had been made about me growing up in Texas, the only option was to arrive in blue jeans and a Cowboy hat.  Weather forecast be damned.  We head to the fire house to pick up radios and check out. It's less than five miles to Scott Base, but just to be safe and give plenty of buffer, we set our return time for midnight, giving us five hours.  While at the fire house, we get an update on weather.  Current Temperature 4F with winds gusting to 30 mph (did I mention  that this was Antarctica?).  Well... we didn't get all dressed up for nothing.  A quick radio check and we head out to the sea ice.  After finding out that not all of the skis fit all of the boots, we cuss and struggle and trade skis until we find a combination that works. Everyone is good to go and we turn our attention to the task at hand.  Flat, white, frozen ocean. 

Things start pretty reasonably as the three of us without experience learn how the fuck this is supposed to work and try our best to stay upright.  We take bets on who will eat shit first, thus owing a round of beer.  Smiles all around.  As we round the peninsula, things take a  turn. The wind hits us full in the face. Fuck.  Quickly, my beard becomes a block of ice.  We press on into the white ahead, and start to cover some ground.  Between heavy breathing and occasional snot rockets, we exchange jokes and talk about blue bird days. Pleasant uneventful hikes that quickly fade into oblivion.  Causal afternoons that no one cares about. We struggle joyfully

We stop.  Looking back, we cannot see town.  Dirty industrial McMurdo Station has disappeared.  Replaced by miles of frozen sea and a backdrop of glacial cut mountains jutting up out of the ocean. Pressure ridges and cracks in the ice.  Seals lounging lazily and bellowing.  The scene is unique and magnificent, truly unlike any other place on earth, but we can hardly appreciate it in the moment.  A hasty makeout session and we are back on the move.  It's just too damn cold. We book it, pressing hard to stay warm. I occasionally remove a glove, shoving my hand down my pants to keep my dick from freezing off as Kay laughs at my idiocy. I smile back though frozen beard, reveling in the absurdity of it all.  The weather is miserable and we are fools.

 Eventually, we make it to Scott Base. The bar is closed but the ever hospitable Kiwis welcome us in and let us warm up on the couches with our flask of Fireball (don't judge me).  Now 11:30, we radio in to extend our check in time to 1am,  preventing Search and Rescue from going to work. We hitch a ride back to McMurdo, and while I don't remember exactly where things went from there, my guess is we passed out in blissful exhaustion.

Hell of a first date.

This is one of the best stories on here in a long time. Thanks!!

Best to you and your date both. Methinks ya both got a "keeper". 

OLH