Sunday, May 4, 2008

Signs That You Are Climbing With A Douchebag

Holy Balls. I really really thought I was going to die this weekend. Really. I went climbing with a friend of a friend this weekend. Alone. And the lesson I learned from this is: NEVER AGAIN.

The first sign that things were going to be odd was the red fedora he wore when we met before the climb. Who in the HELL wears a red fedora to go climbing?

Sign number two - the multicolored fleece pants which matched BOTH the red fedora and the purple vest-turtleneck combo.

Sign number three: He was insistant about toproping a 5.8. Now mind you, I'm not opposed to it, but when the approach to set up a toprope entails 20 minutes of scrambling up pure choss... I'd rather just lead it.

Sign number four: He was also insistant that although my 60-meter rope wouldn't actually reach the ground, we go ahead and use it on the two-pitch climb... no, no... not from the top of the first pitch, but from the top of the second pitch, 200 feet above the ground.

Sign number five: Anchor? Schmanchor!

Sign number six: He thinks he is being safe by overdoing the whole safety thing. In reality, he's got a web of ropes, slings, beaners, all that appear to have an important purpose, when in reality, it's a gigantic mess... all for the purpose of causing my death.

Sign number seven: Why are we wasting time on this slabby craptastic 5.8 when he seems to be scaling it so fast that I can't keep up with the slack in the rope? And he wants to do it again. It is a SHITTY CLIMB!!!! I would rather bury my feet in cockroaches than do that chossy slab again.

I, however, am also an idiot. I flat out told this dude that I didn't trust a damn thing he had set up. So he proceeds to tell me how it is safe. I, still very untrusting, tie in and climb over the edge. Oh, wait... hey, I say, since my rope isn't long enough, how abouts we tie a FUCKING KNOT in the end of the rope so it doesn't go - oops - slipping out of your DAMN GRI GRI!!! Even after this, I still lower myself over the edge and making eye contact with my dear baby dog, Wyatt, I whisper him a tender goodbye while my eyes well up with tears.

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