TR for the Bighorn Micro Clave and a Trip to Chas's

Oh, and Colin Fletcher who, I believe, was the first person to publish a
description of the details of taking a **** in the backcountry. That
undoubtedly led to better overall backcountry sanitation and, thus, far,
far, outstrips the consequence of any of my personal outdoor activities.

Beat out by a good crap, most of us ain't nearly as important as we'd like
to think G

Bruiser wrote:

Oh yeah, my legs are sooooo sore that I can't step off a curb. My "downhill
muscles" were completely unprepared and I'm not sure if they'll ever be the
same.

Great trip report, Bruce.
I feel for ya concerning the legs. A couple of years ago, I hiked (slid) to
the bottom of the middle fork of the Powder river south of Buffalo (hole-in-the
wall country). My fishing buddy had found a "new" way to the bottom. Yeah,
right. There was no trail. We ended up surfing sliding shale most of the way
down. If you fell, you would have rolled all the way to the bottom. The middle
fork is a mini Grand Canyon. When I got to the bottom, my legs didn't work.
They didn't hurt, they just felt like rubber. The first thing we did was cross
the runoff stage creek. We caught some nice fish on stone fly nymphs. The hike
back up was on a trail and, after 5 or 6 stops for a breather, we made it to the
top. No problem, no pain. The next day, I couldn't walk. A few days later, we
headed to Nebraska to the ranch for branding. I helped my brother-in-law move
about 40 cattle panels. As long as I walked on level ground or uphill, I was
fine. Walking down hill (like down into a road ditch on the way to pick up
panels) was terribly painful. It took me over two weeks to heal up. I need to
come up with some kind of exercise to build up those particular muscles.

Snoop






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Larry L:
I often fail to fish a stretch, for instance, because I'm aware of my weak
wading and weaker
knees and simply am scared. Or, I quit climbing, years ago, for the
simple
reason I was too damn scared to do it anymore after a bad fall.

These are common factors that I guess go along with aging and the
recognition that durability is almost as much a myth as invincibility.

I've spent lots of time hiking, camping, climging, skiing,fishing, and
hunting alone. Much of it, I admit, kept me out of the house during a bad
first marriage. But the fear of injury when alone was always there. And in
those days, I would rather have died outdoors doing some higher risk
activity than in the house. The contest was never with companions or others
who had been there before me. It was always with myself, pushing to make
one more goal or one

Fear of injury is always present in humans with normal make up. In combat,
I was far less afraid of death than of injury. I've known quite a few
bona-fide combat heroes who have told me that they felt the same way. The
guys who claimed to have not experienced fear were either mentally ill or
never there to begin with.

Here, wading the flats, it has become much easier to limit the depth to
which I wade. I'd rather not be a statistic and I'd be very embarrased to
admit to dropping and reel to recover from stupidly stepping into a rip or
race.

So if the canyon walls are too sheer and the rock too brittle, the water too
deep and/or fast, I take some comfort in the fact that when younger I dared
such things, but even more in the fact that today I no longer feel the need
to push myself to dare them and still enjoy the trip out.


----
Stev Lenon 91B20 '68-'69
Drowning flies to Darkstar
Save a cow, eat a PETA

http://web.tampabay.rr.com/stevglo/i...age92kword.htm

"slenon" wrote

The contest was never with companions or others
who had been there before me. It was always with myself,


That's exactly how I felt about climbing.

I've been very happy with myself when I backed off a move that logic told me
was too physically risky, even though I was afraid of seeming the coward to
"friends". And, I've been very proud of myself for quieting the physical
fear, forcing the trembling to stop, and making a sanely protected but very
difficult and scary
move.

I've been very displeased with Larry when he came down off a climb that was
reasonably safe and within his ability because he gave into physical fear.
And, I've been ****ed at myself for making a stupidly risky move because I
gave into the fear of peer pressure more than logic. I've never felt good
around mirrors after giving into fear, regardless of what type fear.

I never came even close to "bleeding edge" rock climbing, but I did push my
own limits very hard, and I feel good about having that in my past.

But, as I age, and give into fears that I would never have had when younger,
I am finding it somewhat emotionally difficult to deal with .... but it's
what I now am, ..... I can't pretend to be
otherwise.

Larry:
I've been very displeased with Larry when he came down off a climb that
was
reasonably safe and within his ability because he gave into physical fear.
And, I've been ****ed at myself for making a stupidly risky move because I
gave into the fear of peer pressure more than logic. I've never felt
good
around mirrors after giving into fear, regardless of what type fear.

Yes, but you mention falls in your previous post. Like you, I climbed for
myself, not for endorsements or recognition. I was privileged to climb in
some great areas and because of that, doomed to take some serious falls.
Unless one is a rock gymnast, and I was not, that peeling off moment when
gravity claims its own power is guaranteed to make you question your own
sanity. And the impact at the end of the fall is never as easy on your
spine as you hope. Then there is the nagging question of the rope on some
edge and the hope that protection will stay in place.

I could never do the free climbs. I've helped carry off those who did. It
bothered me but not as much as seeing myself lying as they fell. The peer
pressure is tremendous among climbers and we always wonder if we could have
made the crux move that someone else led.

But, as I age, and give into fears that I would never have had when
younger,
I am finding it somewhat emotionally difficult to deal with .... but it's
what I now am, ..... I can't pretend to be otherwise.

It is annoying to look back and find that we were different then. To me
it's become a question of durability. As you say, as we both know, while we
may acknowledge the fears, our bodies are also doing a damned good job of
telling us when we have to quit. It's no longer the path that troubles us
as much as the nasty little realization that there may be an end to the
path.

Having said all that, it would be good to sit and spin climbing and other
yarns with you. I've read much of what you've posted since I arrived and do
believe we'd enjoy fishing and yarning together.

----
Stev Lenon 91B20 '68-'69
Drowning flies to Darkstar
Save a cow, eat a PETA

http://web.tampabay.rr.com/stevglo/i...age92kword.htm

"slenon" wrote

good to sit and spin climbing and other
yarns with you.


I seem to run into lots of "used to climb" fisher guys This summer I
bought some Patagonia flats pants ( really comfy in hot weather and I like
doing biz with them, their eco-policy is top rate ) at Blue Ribbon. True
to my grumpy nature I was bitching about the price and made a comment
something to the effect " I can remember when Yvon Chouinard was a Camp 4
bum blacksmithing pitons, now he's probably a billionaire because of
gullible fly fishermen" Turns out John Jurachek who was selling me the
pants used to climb.

The fall that stoped my climbing was a loose rock deal, I was resting, after
the move of a short climb. I felt funny, looked down, and simply wasn't
attached anymore, my toe holds had just popped out.. After about 15 or so
feet ( it was bolt protected I was in little danger) I instinctively stuck
out my right foot trying to catch a ledge about 2 inches wide. You've been
there and can guess what two inches of ledge did to that foot after 15 or
more free falling feet ...bent it nearly off my leg .... crutches for a
long, long, time, limp to this day. And I never felt comfortable again,
on the rock, "What if this hold popped off, what about that one on the next
move?"

I'm not far from Yosemite ( usually great rock), but the fall was in the
winter at Pinnacles Nat Mon.(known for crappy rock ) I still have a bag
full of biners, stoppers and chocks, pitons ( yep I'm that old ) a pair of
EB's, a pair of PA's .... I keep thinking of leaving them at the base of
that dome by Tenaya Lake with a note "free to good home" when I go to fish
Hot creek and Crowley, but I'd probably get arrested for littering G

"Snoop" wrote in message

(snip)

Bob, you've got my conditions pegged. I would have been fine if I hadn't
ran down the trail. Kind of the equivalent of your bushwhacking butt
slide - dusting off some forgotten muscles, especially the downhill muscles,
can make one pretty sore.

bruce h

And I never felt comfortable again, on the rock, "What if this hold popped
off, what about that one on the next
move?"

Truly a scary tale. I can imagine the anatomical damage. And the tendency
to anticipate that happening again would make it hard to take a risk or set
foot on rock.

My falling stories aren't that bad. Mostly rock rash and assorted scars,
scrapes, and avulsions. The fall that really got to me was on army laid
rope. Several pieces of questionable protection zippered out and I honestly
think I left footprints in the dust at the base of the route before that
damned laid rope snapped tight and pulled me up again.

But I quit mostly because of age, older injuries, and location. I finally
found I wasn't using my gear and sold most of it. Saved three pitons ( I'm
that old too ), an Army oval steel biner, a couple aluminum locking biners
and a rurp that took a hard fall and stayed put. They sit on a shelf in the
front room next to my slide rule and my flint and steel kit from my black
powder days.

The climbing - fly fishing juxtaposition may have to do with an appreciation
for nature. The climbers I learned from were interested in the whole
outdoor package, camping, hunting, fishing, mountaineering. Then I ran into
the rock jocks as they became more apparent. Seeing somebody carry power
tools to bolt routes just sickens me. Yeah, they can outclimb me, likely
even without their tools. And maybe they can outfish me too. But they
don't appreciate the rock, the land, or the fish. Trophy climbers, just
like trophy hunters, fishers, and road sign shooters are from a different
ethos.

You have a great backyard if you live near Yosemite. I was going to
interview at the federal hospital there but I met Gloria and came east
instead. Such is fortune!

----
Stev Lenon 91B20 '68-'69
Drowning flies to Darkstar
Save a cow, eat a PETA

http://web.tampabay.rr.com/stevglo/i...age92kword.htm

Darin Minor wrote:

Chums will actually start to darken up faster than pinks, they'll
start in the
salt water. As far as I'm concerned, the smoker isn't even good enough
for
chums. There is a reason they call 'em dog salmon.

Well, one side of me wants to leave this comment alone so there will be
more chums for me, but the other side just couldn't leave it at that.
I caught several bright chums last year on the Sky above Monroe. They
were tasty grilled, no need to smoke them.

As a biological note, the salt/fresh thing isn't involved in the timing
of the fish turning color. They turn in anticipation of spawning, at a
standard interval before the actual spawning starts. If they are
Hoodsport fish, they often change completely in the salt. If they are
Skagit, Sky, or Stilly fish, they change as much as a week or two after
heading up the river. Particularly in the case of chums, the color
alone doesn't tell you they aren't fresh any more. Alaskan fish that
spawn in small creeks that dump straight into the salt often only spend
the last few days of their lives in the fresh water.

I do wonder when the Yukon river kings change color. They have over
2000 miles of fresh water to navigate.

Chas
http://home.comcast.net/~chas.wade/w...ome.html-.html

wrote...
The best thing about the fishing, hunting and things i have in my life is
not enjoying them for themselves but sharing them. I guess that probably
sounds trite, but it's exactly how I feel.

True story. I often feel the same way and have a hard time
describing that feeling. It is kind of like getting your kid
into their first fish, or any fish for that matter. You are
happy because you get to share an experience that has brought
you so much joy in the past, but also take a little bit of
"pride" in getting that person into fish too. It is sort of
like vicariously fishing through another and being able to
share the happiness, but also experience it through them at
the same time.
--
Warren
(use troutbum_mt (at) yahoo to reply via email)