A Walk Along the River :: San Antonio

After leaving Davis Mountains State Park (on December 10th), I spent the day driving to San Antonio. The fog wasn't too bad once I left the mountains and got onto the Interstate Highway and I didn't get into any significant rain until about an hour from the city.



I spent three nights in San Antonio with my friend Diana. She is also a Joslin cousin (3rd cousin once removed). Her great grandfather, Luther Joslin, was a brother to my great-great grandmother, Malissa Mariah Joslin Brubaker Bower. Our families made contact for the first time in 1968, lost contact a few years later, then were reunited in 1999 through the wonders of the internet! The folks I'll be staying with in Louisiana for the holidays are also descendants of Luther. Don't you love it when distant family members become friends too?



One evening we ventured down to the Riverwalk for a stroll and supper. All types of Cafes and Restaurants line both sides of the river for a considerable distance. And, of course, the area was all decked out with lights for the holidays.





Trees were wrapped with lights on every branch and all the way to the top!





It was a rather cool evening but not uncomfortable – if you could stay out of the wind!





I hesitated to include this photo since it is out of focus, but I think it provides more of the ambiance of the evening. I actually kind of like it! Just consider it an “impressionistic” rendition of the Riverwalk...

Hale Brubaker & Crow's Corner School

Maurice Hale Brubaker (known as Hale) was the youngest son of Malissa Joslin and William Brubaker. He taught at least one term at the Crow's Corner school in Smith Township, Whitley County, Indiana when he was 18 years old. This was still at a time when college degrees were not required for teaching.

Hale's life was cut short when just 6 years later he died of pneumonia while attending Law School at Columbia University in New York. His death had a traumatic affect on the family. It was a shock to his parents but particularly his father who died a little over a year later.

The brief "biography" of Hale was written by his mother: "Hale died in N Y Dec 14 1910 aged 24y 6m & 27da he was in Columbia University a Law Student would have finished in May 1911 he was born in Troy TP Whitley Co graduated in common School when 13 & in high School 17 Taught School in Smith TP. was an active member in the First Baptist church & Sunday School after all God took him called him higher where he is at rest Mother"

I'll be posting more about Hale in the future...

The Pupils listed on the Souvenir tag are:

• Grade VII: Chester McNeal, Thomas Griffith, Etta Rowland, Bessie Gordon, Katie Fulk, Dessie Garrison
• Grade V: Ethel Herron, Jennie Gilbert, Rilla Boggs, Edward Gordon, John Fulk, Charles Gilbert, Jesse Rowland, Earnest McNeal, Herbert McNeal, Cyrus Griffith, Joshua Griffith
• Grade III: Lottie Herron, Virgie Griffith, Frank Garrison, Howard Gilbert
• Grade I: Opal Boggs, Millie Garrison, and a few more that were in the damaged portion

Meal Time

Stormy and Trave eating together.

Bike Lane Etiquette?

Having just returned from our stay on Cape Cod, I am greeted with a remarkable development: There are now bike lanes on one of the most hated stretches of road near my neighborhood. While normally I avoid this road, today I found reasons to travel along it multiple times just to experience its Disneyfication - for the city has also planted trees and installed decorative streetlights, in attempts to disguise the faded vinyl-siding of the multi-family homes and the peeling storefront signs that say things like "Used Tires". Why if Boston keeps this up, soon the last of the gritty neighborhoods will turn shiny and pleasant and there will be nothing to complain about!



Apparently, we are hardly the only town experiencing such shocking advances in bicycle infrastructure. A friend from Virginia has written me with the news that there are now bicycle lanes in Harrisonburg, and he - a lifelong cyclist sans lanes - does not quite know how to behave in them. Where is one supposed to pass? How to deal with joggers in the lane?



While I am by no means an authority, I will contribute my ideas on bike lane etiquette. Please note that although these contain commentary on safety, they are meant as thoughts on polite behaviour and are notsafety tips.



1. Positioning within the bike lane

It is a good idea to cycle in the left half of the bike lane, as this positioning places you out of the "door zone" (i.e. you will not get struck by a car's door, should one suddenly fling open). Occasionally, a misguided cyclist or driver may shout at you to scoot over to the right, so that they can pass you easier - but don't allow yourself to be guilted into listening to them. Instead, politely explain about the door zone and why your positioning in the lane is necessary.



Try to keep to a consistent line within the bike lane; don't weave. Drivers and other cyclists can get freaked out by weaving cyclists, and in turn behave irrationally.



2. Passing other cyclists

Passing other cyclists should be done on the left, never on the right. If you pass on the right, you endanger both yourself and the cyclist you pass, by nullifying the distance between the two of you and the door zone. Pass the slower cyclist by going around them on the left (into the traffic lane), naturally checking that the lane is clear first. Should another cyclist attempt to pass you on the right (you can sometimes sense them coming up behind you), I think it is perfectly fine to tell them not to do this ("Please don't pass on the right" or "Please pass me on the left").



3. Yielding to turning vehicles

Yield to turning vehicles in the lane, be they cars or other bicycles, instead of attempting to go around them as they are making the turn. Even if you manage to do this safely, it is disturbing to the vehicle to suddenly see you beside them as they attempt to execute a traffic maneuver.



4. Yielding to pedestrians

If the bike lane intersects a crosswalk, yield to pedestrians in a way that makes them feel safe - don't just cycle around them within inches of their person... And please don't even think of ringing your bell at pedestrians to make them cross faster (I have witnessed cyclists do this in Boston).It is the pedestrian's right to be in the crosswalk and your obligation to yield.



On the other hand, it is not the pedestrian's right to be in the bike lane itself, whether they are jogging or rolling a baby carriage, or whether it is a group of people caught up in chatting. If a pedestrian is blocking a bike lane, I think it is only fair to ring your bell and/or politely say something like "Excuse me, bike lane!" so that they move out of your way. It is rude of them to block the lane; it is not rude of you to point out that they are blocking it and ask them to move.



5. Positioning when stopped at intersections

When stopped at an intersection, stop before the crosswalk - as opposed to blocking it (as shown above), as some cyclists do in order to get a head start. It's not very nice to make pedestrians go around you as they attempt to cross the street.



If other cyclists are already stopped at the intersection when you arrive, it is generally considered polite to stop behind them - as opposed to next to them, in an attempt to compete for who goes first when the light turns green.



6. Turning

Communicate your intention to turn by signaling and merging into the turn lane early on, rather than at the last moment, so that drivers are not surprised and can yield to you properly.



Observe the same rules as if you were a motor vehicle: When making a left turn, yield to oncoming traffic; when turning right on red, yield to pedestrians crossing and to cross-traffic.



7. Wrong way in the bike lane?

I think the reason some cyclists engage in this behaviour, is to make an easier left turn. However, it is wrong and inconsiderate to"salmon" in the bike lanes; please don't do it. And I think it is perfectly acceptable to ask other cyclists not to do it.



8. Cycling onto the sidewalk

Upon reaching their destination, some cyclists transition onto the sidewalk and continue to cycle - dismounting when they reach the bike rack, or the front door of the building they will be entering. My view is that cyclists should dismount upon reaching the sidewalk, and walk their bike thereafter.



9. Speed

As while driving, it is common sense and common courtesy to slow down when executing delicate maneuvers in traffic. It is also common courtesy not to jeopardise the safety of other cyclists, even if you are in a hurry. Sometimes you just have to go with the flow of bicycle traffic, even if technically you are capable of going faster.



10. Interaction with drivers and other cyclists

Please... just be polite. If you are annoyed or frightened by a driver or another cyclist, it is never a good idea to express that sentiment by immediately insulting them or shouting obscenities. An urgent tone of voice does not need to be abusive. "You almost killed me!" in an alarmed voice is more effective than "You almost killed me, you goddamn idiot!" in a hostile voice. While it may be tempting to shout the latter version, consider that doing so can actually escalate conflict and further endanger you.



With more cities across the US creating bicycle lanes, the numbers of new cyclists out on the roads is growing. And while different states have different degrees of regulations when it comes to cycling, I think there are certain aspects of using the bike lanes that are a matter of common sense and courtesy. I hope my suggestions are useful to new users of bike lanes. Your feedback, whether in agreement or disagreement, is welcome.

Bryant Peak ..

This is more a document of my failure than a trip report. I had the goal of heading up Bryant Peak from what I believe to be the standard route today. (The gully to the east and take SE Ridge to the top.) I should have known things would not go well when I viewed Mount Rainier from the I90 bridge and realized I had left the camera at home. Oh well. I continued to Alpental.

I arrived to find only one other vehicle in the parking lot. My guess is they were headed to Chair. I loaded up and headed up the trail and noticed there was what appeared to be two sets of bare boot prints heading up the trail. The groomed section was less icy than last week, and when I left the groomed area, that was less icy as well. I was making good time. In thirty minutes I had arrived at the turn to head up to the hanging valley. This is where I started to realize the foolishness of my decision not to bring floatation.

Last week the snowshoes were great. But I incorrectly assumed that with more traffic up there and subsequent freeze/thaw cycles that I would be fine without any floatation. I was very sadly wrong. When I first left the trail it was not so bad and I was sinking in ankle depth. As I headed up I tried to stay on downhill ski tracks or faint boot tracks. It didn't make much difference. Soon every step was calf deep. By the time I was near the top I got some breaks by following a previous boot track. This track ran out and I was now going knee deep on most steps, with occasional steps going thigh deep. I persevered. I told myself it would get better once the angle eased in the bowl. This may have been the only thing I was right about. It did ease, and I picked up another boot path where I enjoyed respite from the post hole nightmare. Of course this had to end as the path went to the head of the bowl and I needed to head toward the gully that would start my climb.

The snow was deep mash potatoes. I picked a line and headed up. Being a lower angle, it was nicer than coming up from Source Lake, but I was expending energy at high rate just to move ahead. I finally came to a stop to put my pack down and investigate the slopes. There were plenty of wet slides that look like they probably happened the day before. I also saw some sloughing and heard rockfall periodically. I put my pack down and attempted to hike up into the shaded slope to dig a pit. I moved about 40m uphill (about halfway to the shadow) and it took me more than five minutes! I stood there with the gully in front of me and realized it would have to wait for another day. I figure in the conditions the snow was in, it would have taken me about two more hours to summit, and I just wasn't interested in that wallow. As it was, it took me an hour and a half from leaving the trail to reach my high point.

So I turned around and gathered my pack and plunge stepped down to the trail. While significantly easier (it took me less than 25 minutes to descend what took me 1.5 hours to ascend.) The plunge stepping was still somewhat difficult even if it did take less energy. I was sinking knee or thigh deep on every step. When I got home I read this trip report where they had snow shoes and still were sinking calf deep. The snow was actually skiable and if I had brought floatation I think things may have turned out different. Although I could not have used it during the technical portion of the climb and that would have still been a wallow.

Blue dot marks my high point.

Petzl hammers, one last time!

Seen on some of the most experienced Petzl tools in the world. And much more still to come this season. A truly classic and well tested design worthy of the Nomic.






Summit ice slopes, N. Face of the Eiger and CT hammers.




The current productionrun of CT hammers is not readyyet. But will be sent for heat treat midDecember . Likely the last batch I will produce.Certainly the last batch till at least fall of .They are anothergeneration better and even more user friendly! No dicking
around on the fit. Simply bolt them on with the current Petzl picks. A new
stronger and more durable design. These willfit perfectly on the old or new
Noimcs. They willalso fit on the new Quarks and new Ergo with the current production picks. Milled one at a time from tool steel and then heat treated to specific hammer hardness. Full head coverage,4mm thick and only 32g per hammer with little effect on the tools balance and swing weight.



NOTE! October 22, the last batch was being mailed out.....inventory lasted till Nov. 9. The current production runwill be ready late Dec or early Jan . Best to pre-order if you
want hammers this season. No additional shipping charges for
International orders. Everyone pays the same $7.50 no matter where you are in the world.

Nomic/Petzl options

1 hammer $60.00 USD 2 hammers $120.00 USD 4 hammers $225.00 USD

Nick's Valet by Nick Ruggieri

My name is Nick Ruggieri and I am a second-generation Italian-American raised in the Washington, DC area. My memories of growing up in Washington have strong roots with my Sicilian grandfather, Nonno, as he was affectionately called by my family. Nonno was born Nicola Ruggieri in Fiumadinisi, Sicily in 1896 and came to America in his early twenties. Fiumadinisi was a small town where crime was relatively non-existent due in large part to a town center that engaged in public displays of its own form of civil law. Those caught stealing got a finger chopped off in front of all to witness. It was that simple…you do the crime, you pay the price.

Nonno’s travel experience to this country was never discussed and we gather his time at Ellis Island was quite unpleasant. Legal entry to the United States required a sponsor from one’s country and $50 cash in one’s pocket. In years to come, my grandfather sponsored other Sicilian immigrants who followed his lead in making a new start and finding work in America.

In the early 1930s Nonno launched his business, Nick’s Valet on 14th and Irving Streets NW. He set out to establish himself as a shoe cobbler and haberdasher of sorts, providing shoe repair and design, as well as tailoring, dry cleaning, and shoeshine services. The back of the shop housed living quarters in which he and my grandmother, Nonna, raised two daughters and one son - my dad. All were born with the assistance of a midwife in this tiny little apartment. The family later moved a few blocks away to 3805 13th Street NW. They lived in a beautiful row house with three floors, each having long narrow rooms that seemed to stretch on forever. Planted in the backyard were wonderful fig trees that many Italians seemed to cherish back then.

As kids growing up in the 6os my brother and I had the wonderful opportunity to work in Nonno’s shop performing the more menial tasks - sweeping floors, working the cash register and greeting the customers, but our greatest joy came in observing and talking with Nonno’s employees. By the time we started frequenting the shop, most of the older Sicilian workers had either retired or passed on. They were replaced by African-American men hired by Nonno. Two guys I will never forget were Joe the shoeshine man and Louis the tailor.

The shop shoeshine stand, quite in vogue back then, consisted of five leather-cushioned chairs that sat high upon two steps of smooth white marble. Joe would grab his tools of the trade and begin slapping shoe polish directly from his hands to the shoes. With a brush in each hand, he’d go about polishing the shoes in a rhythmic pattern that sounded quite like a jazz drummer playing with brushes. Next he used his buffing cloth to draw a brilliant shine out of each shoe. When he snapped that cloth three times over each shoe, you knew his work was complete. Man, in all my then-eight years of existence that was the coolest music I ever heard coming out of a human being! I truly believe my interest in drumming came from watching Joe do his thing.

Louis the tailor, on the other hand, was a character to say the least. By week’s end, when Friday rolled around, Louis was already half in the bag and spinning more yarns than cloth. He shared wild stories with my brother and me, staring at us with his gleaming madman eyes, while his wicked smile proudly showed off his two gold teeth. He often argued with Nonno, and I can recall one incident in particular in which Louis threw a shoe at my grandfather beaming him right on the head. My grandfather wasn’t the kind of guy to take crap from anyone, and many times my dad had to jump in between those two to keep the peace. One Saturday morning I accompanied my dad to the DC penitentiary, which at the time was located next to the DC Armory. I distinctly recall waiting in the car while my father trudged through the gates to bail Louis out from yet another Friday night venture that landed him in the drunk tank. (My father said it was the eeriest feeling to have those gates slam shut behind him, and I often recalled those words when growing up - they helped me in choosing between right and wrong on many an occasion.) After what seemed like an eternity, my dad finally re-emerged through the gates with Louis staggering behind him, sporting a fat shiner on his right eye and reeking of cheap booze. We drove Louis straight to the shop to start his work day not even stopping for a cup of coffee. Louis may have had his shortcomings but he was a good man and I loved him dearly, as did all who came into contact with him.

Not only were those two guys a constant source of wonder to me but the endless stream of persons who walked through Nonno’s door on 14th Street were like none other I had ever experienced in my lifetime. But I’ll save those stories for another time.

Nonno’s shop burned down in the ’68 riots and for years there was an empty lot where Nick’s Valet once stood. From time to time I would drive by and just stop and stare, remembering what once was. I would still have the same special feelings that I once had as a kid on that block. Some memories are just etched in time.

"Queensland - The Steep State" The Crux Magazine story

Featuring the Phil Box photo that went to number one in the U.S. for 3 months on rockclimbing.com

Click on the story to enlarge and read.





The Rock! mag story







Poster that appeared in Crux 4



Photo: Neil Montieth





"Call of Duty" 28 Coolum Cave The very long and very steep "Call of Duty" is an extension of the original Gareth Llewellyn line "Weapon of Choice".





Photo: Antoine Mousette

4th Horse

It was never planned that we would have more than two horses and here we were at three. So another horse came to live with us, making it four. Sundance is about 20 years old. He was another of the millions of unwanted equines that are hunting homes everywhere. Sunny, as he is better known as, is an ex-roping horse or that is what we assume, with what was a bad hoof when he came to us. Lots of vet work and even more good farrier work has fixed the bad hoof up enough that we can now ride him for short lenghts of time. At some point the hoof and heel of his right front foot had been injured, almost as if it had been sliced off. There wasn't a lot that could be done to repair it except let time see if it could. It has as much as it can, I think. And for us Sunny is a decent riding horse, considering neither of us is up to riding for long periods of time. Sunny is abit stand-offish, but will do anything I ask him to but would rather do it for my husband. Sunny will follow Lee like a puppy dog. Sunny is a big horse, like our bay mare, Nita. Both are close to 16 hands, and weight about 1200 pounds. Sunny is a brown and white paint Quarter Horse. As soon as Sunny came in I was able to put him out with Nita. But it has taken about 2 years to be able to put them out with Jack and Star. There has been quite a bit of fussing, kicking, and nipping to determine what the pecking order is to be in this little herd. But when all was said and done, Sunny came out on top. He is the boss. Jack is next, followed by Nita, and poor little Star came in at the bottom. In this photo he is looking out across the desert toward the Sandia Mountains. Actually Albuquerque is hiding down in the valley just under the moutains, and over the desert ridge.

The Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone

Thursday, September 1st - - With the campsite in shade and temperatures in the low 30s this morning I went and found a nice sunny spot in which to eat breakfast. Then it was off to see the sights!





Sometimes, I guess, Buffalo prefer an easy route to wherever they are going! They were frequently seen alongside and on the road, usually only one or two bison at a time.



My primary destination this morning was the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone with its beautiful Lower Falls and Upper Falls. Located at the northeastern corner of the southern highway loop, the 40 mile drive from the campground took about two hours, with stops along the way at the Mud Volcano Area and Sulphur Caldron.





My first stop in the “Grand Canyon” area was Artist Point on the South Rim.



Artist Point provides stunning views of the 308-foot Lower Falls. It is, quite simply, breathtaking! The morning light along with a hazy sky enhanced the view allowing details in the sides of the canyon to show up, though the colors are somewhat muted.





A closer view of the Lower Falls.



And, even closer.



The colors of the canyon didn't show up clearly in the photos of the Lower Falls, but, oh my, how they “popped” when looking to the northeast! The fantastic colors of the north side of the canyon come from rhyolite and sediments that have been altered by hydrothermal action (i.e. hot water from springs that were active in years past).





The Upper Falls is not quite as impressive (only 109 feet) or photogenic as the Lower Falls but it was still worth the walk down a short trail to see it.





It was also easier to access the Brink of the Upper Falls from another short trail. The Brink of the Lower Falls was a strenuous trail that dropped 600 feet in a very short distance. I passed on that one but did go to the Brink of the Upper Falls, shown above.





The view from Inspiration Point, on the North Rim, looking to the northeast.





As I drove up to the northwest side of the park to the Mammoth Hot Spring Terraces, the clouds moved in.





I walked along most of the boardwalk trails in the lower terraces but my legs were getting a little wobbly by the time I made it to the upper terrace area. Whether it was from the lighting conditions or the fact that many of the springs in that area have gone dormant, I was disappointed with my visit there. The photos I took were rather blah.





The view from the front of the upper terraces was rather impressive though. On the drive back to the campground, I took the “shorter” route along the west side of the northern loop then cutting across to Canyon Village and the eastern side of the southern loop. It was still about a 75 mile drive back to the campground.

Wild Sunflower

Sunflowers help brighten up my day.

Mt Rainier Update

It's been far too long since I've posted... So what's going on at Mount Rainier? Lots of road repair, but very little climbing and hiking. I snapped this image of the Carbon River Road on Saturday, Jan. 13th. For the most part, hikers/skiers/climbers are limited to the main road corridors, unless they'd like to bushwack.

On Sunday, the 14th, I hiked to Camp Muir under calm, clear skies. Though the temps were well below freezing, I wore only light clothing the entire way. Camp Muir and most of the buildings were encrusted in ice and firm snow, however, and access to the Public Shelter was straightforward and easy.

The snow conditions (ski/board) below Pan Point were absolutely fantastic. Over the past week, there has been a prolonged cold snap throughout the Pacific NW, which left great backcountry skiing and climbing conditions around the region. Even in Seattle, there was snow on the ground for more than 72 hours. As for the route to Camp Muir, I needed snowshoes up Pan Point, but things firmed up nicely above 7K.

Speaking of snow, there is over 130 inches on the ground at Paradise (nearly 350 total inches this fall/winter). Not bad for an El Nino year (predicted by climatologists to be warmer and drier).

In the meantime, David Horsey of the Seattle PI decided that Mt. Rainier needed a cartoon.

'Twas the Summer of '59

The first and last time that I attended summer camp was in June 1959. I was eleven years old and it was also the first time that I had been away from home for any length of time. The camp was affiliated with the Girl Scouts. Two of my friends, classmates and troop mates, Susan and Joanne, were there too, so it wasn't like I didn't know anyone. It sounds like I had lots of fun. Too bad I don't really remember specific events, though I do remember attending. Hopefully, my spelling and grammar have improved somewhat over the years...



Dear Mom,

I am fine, How are you, Jack, Doug, and Terry. Do you know that you have to pay 15¢ a car, 15¢ for parents, 15¢ for children under 12 years of age.

My consulers are Micky, & Watona. I am having a good time, I'm just a little home sick, not very much.

Do you know what a hopper is it is a person or more that helps set tables and get food on the tables. a hopper doesn't have to do his own dishes but she has to do the tables dishes.

I have written a letter to grandma to.

sincerely yours
Beckie W.



Dear Mom,

I told you about a hopper. I'm a hopper Sat. Lunch.

Can you guess who my cabin mates are? They are Susan Howell and Joann, Suzanne, Pamella, and Diane.

Monday night we had a lot of trouble Susan was crying for her dog, and Dianne triped and hurt her eye, and we made a clothsline and I forgot where we put it and ran thurgh it and got a rope burn, Suzanne was home sick.

I got your letter and was a little home sick. I am going to save $1.00, 5¢ a day for the Mermaid-Festival. Don't tell anybody else.

I lost grandmas address will you send me the address.

Sunday we had hotdogs, potatoe chips, milk, water, Bread & butter.

I am having loads of fun I will write to you & the family almost every day.



There is one letter that Mom sent me. I'm sure she wrote more but this is the only one that got kept...



June 15, 1959

Dear Becky -

Well how is the weather. It's raining here and I've got the furnace turned on - this is always the kind of weather you get when you go to camp. What time did you get to Pottawatamie. I'll bet you were hungry when supper time came - What did you have that was good to eat. Who have you got for a cabin mate. Even if it is raining I'll bet you have fun - We are watching T. V. It's the first its been on in the morning for 2 weeks. I've got some more strawberries that have to be picked. I was over at Pat's yesterday and we are going to have to start picking peas.

Ruth and Gene Stutzman are on vacation this week too - I hope you can read this - I'm trying to get done before the mail man gets here - Terry was looking for you last night & wanted to know when we were going to get you - Bill & Sue were here yesterday and Doug started yelling for you to come & play - He stopped as soon as he got "Bec" out.

= = =

There was one more page in her letter that listed the addresses of people that I was supposed to write to. She signed the letter "Mommy".

Pat is Mom's sister. Pat and her family lived on a farm and always planted a large garden. Bill and Sue are Mom's brother and his wife. Jack, Doug, and Terry were my brothers and sister. It's nice to know that my siblings missed me ;-)

I'm pretty sure that Camp Pottawatamie was located on or near the Tippecanoe River, which was the same river that flowed through the fields less than a mile from our house. I also think the camp is now part of the Tippecanoe River State Park. The town of Winamac is located on State Road 14, in Pulaski County, about a two hour drive from where we lived at the time. Not that far, but I'm sure it seemed further.

This post was written for and contributed to the 76th edition of the Carnival of Genealogy :: How I spent my summer vacation…

Bandstand

This is the traditional Spanish type bandstand that was in most of the town squares in New Mexico. There is still frequently bands playing there but not on the day I was there. It is surrounded by several large cottonwood trees and is across the street from the church on one side, and shops on the other three sides.

Yum

My Mom gave me the recipe for this yummy shrimp dish last time she was here.

1 1/2 T garlic, chopped
1 medium onion
2 Tbsp Olive Oil
8 oz can Italian whole plum tomatoes
(We used 15 oz can diced tomatoes instead & added 1 tsp Italian seasoning.)
1 lb cooked shelled shrimp
1 tsp oregano
1 tsp basil
8 oz crumbled feta cheese (we used less than this.)
8 oz uncooked linguini
salt & pepper to taste

Cook linguini in salted water.
Saute garlic & onion in olive oil 3 - 5 min on Med High heat (until tender).
Add cooked shrimp, saute for 2 min, remove from pan but leave garlic & onion. Add tomatoes & liquid & stir.
Bring to a boil, reduce heat. Add shrimp, oregano & basil, salt & pepper. Simmer 3 - 5 min. Pour over drained linguini & toss.
Add crumbled feta cheese at the table.

I think this would also work well with tofu instead of shrimp, if you're a vegetarian.

Gunks Routes: MF (5.9)

(Photo: Approaching crux # 1 of MF (5.9) in the fog. Is there a climber up there?)



The weather gods have been joking around with me.



Thanksgiving weekend was stunning. We had record highs, in the sixties and seventies, and abundant sunshine. I had a full agenda of stuff going on. This was joyous, important, family stuff. Stuff that I wouldn't dream of missing, it goes without saying.



So there was no way I could go climbing over this beautiful weekend. But I had to take advantage of the warm-weather window somehow. It was killing me to let it just roll by; this could be our last good climbing weather until next Spring. Surely, I thought, there must be something I could do?



I decided to take a vacation day on Tuesday to go to the Gunks.



The only problem was that it was expected to rain. After reviewing the forecast, I decided to go for it anyway. It was going to be warm, and the rain wasn't supposed to come until the late afternoon. A pretty full day was possible, even likely, I told myself. And the weather report for the following days called for deteriorating conditions: more rain and then colder temperatures. My obsessed mind saw Tuesday as my final chance of the year.



Parker agreed to meet me. We'd climbed together once before, in early summer. Back then we were both leading similar climbs but since that time Parker had been climbing a lot, and it sounded like he'd been ripping it up. I was eager to see what he could do. I told him I wanted to climb MF, one of my big goals for . He wanted to do Amber Waves of Pain (5.10a), which I was really excited about climbing (as a second) as well.



When I got up on Tuesday morning it was pretty gloomy out. During the drive up from the city I grew concerned about how foggy it was. The air felt damp. I worried that the cliffs would be coated in a slick, wet mist. It was an unpleasant experience I'd had before.



Then at the Sloatsburg rest stop, as I stood there pumping gas, I detected rain. Not just wet fog, but actual rain.



I paused to search the sky. Were these really drops of rain, falling from the heavens to the earth?



Yes, it was definitely raining.



It grew heavier as I stood there.



This wasn't supposed to happen! Not until later.



I was furious. I started yelling into the air. "Stop it! Stop raining!"



I'm sure I resembled a crazy person.



I got back in my car and started driving faster than before. I'm not sure why-- was I trying to outrun the rain? I kept hoping it wouldn't be like this in New Paltz.



The rain stopped, thankfully, before I got to Exit 18. I couldn't tell whether the cliffs had seen any precipitation. Actually, I couldn't tell whether the cliffs were even there. They were invisible, hidden by dense fog. This was not a good sign.



As I drove to the stairmaster parking lot I saw that the roads were wet. Also not a good sign. If the roads were wet, the rock was likely wet too.



Upon his arrival at the empty parking lot, Parker remarked that we seemed to be the only idiots intent on climbing. But since we were already at the cliffs, we decided we might as well go see if the rock was, by some miracle, dry.



We went straight up to the Mac Wall to look at MF. Described by Dick Williams as "THE standard for 5.9 in the Gunks," MF has a reputation as a tough climb. (As you might have guessed, the letters in the name stand for "Mother F**ker.") The first pitch has two cruxes, the first coming at an awkward, scary move around a corner, and the second involving some thin moves over a bulge. Pitch two has just one crux: a big roof.



I've been working up to MF all year-- all my climbing life, really. I knew on Tuesday as I stood before the route that this could be my last chance to climb it before the end of the season. But I was scared to try it if the rock was damp. Hell, I was scared to try it, period. Even in perfect conditions. Maybe in this iffy weather it was beyond scary. Maybe it was a stupid idea.



But Parker touched the rock and said he thought we were okay. It seemed dry to him. "Feel it," he said. "There's plenty of friction!"



I wanted this climb. Badly. I put my hand on the rock, and it appeared Parker was right. Even though we were surrounded by mist, the rock felt fine. I decided to do the climb. I could always bail if it started really raining. It's only gear, I figured. Who cares if I leave a piece or two behind? Don't I have a catchphrase that covers this situation?



Yes I do: Carpe Diem, bitches.



I tied in and headed upward.



The early going on pitch one is tricky. There is a steep bit right off the ground, and you have to make a few moves before you get any pro in. Maybe this part of the climb just seemed hard to me because I was a bundle of nerves. The conditions were making me jittery. I stepped off the route, back to the ground, just after I started because the fog suddenly turned to rain. But then in a minute it turned back to fog again.



I went back at it, placing two pieces at the first opportunity.



After the initial moves the pitch jogs left, then back right to the big overhang. I moved slowly, checking each foothold, fearful I'd pop off. I placed a ton of pro. As I approached crux one, it seemed much more intimidating and difficult than it did from the ground. It is steep there. It is pumpy to hold on. You can see the horn thingy that you need to grab as well as the foothold that will bring you around the corner, but it seems kind of improbable that this move will work out well.



On the bright side, the pro is great. There's a pin just where you want it and another piece can be put there to back it up. The fall is clean. The holds are good. You can stand there for a good long while, shaking out each hand in turn as you reflect on the life you've lived, and the leap you're about to take.



I hemmed and hawed there a long time, but in the end I found no real trick to the move. You just have to commit. Grab the horn, get your right foot on that hold, and go. And then it's about balance. Shift slowly to the right foot and keep inching to the right. The holds are further around the corner than you want them to be, but they exist, trust me!





(Photo: Having placed pro, I'm getting ready to move through the bulging crux # 2 on pitch one of MF (5.9).)



I spent even longer hemming and hawing over the second crux. I didn't want to blow it. My flash of MF was within reach, yet still so far away. Luckily there's a good stance below the bulge from which you can think over the moves as much as you like. Again the pro is good. There is a horizontal right below the bulge (quite slimy on Tuesday, but it took a cam), and an irregular pod/handhold up in the bulge in which I managed to seat a solid green Alien. This last placement made me feel really good. I clipped the piece direct and knew if I fell I wouldn't go far.



When I finally went for it the moves were not bad. The holds were small but positive, and before I knew it I had the jugs.



As I hit the chains I was thrilled. It had been a slow lead, a methodical lead, but it had been a successful onsight lead of MF. I was no longer breaking into 5.9. I felt solid in the grade. I couldn't ask for anything more.



Parker started following me up pitch one. I heard him say something about a nut.



"Did I place a crummy nut?" I asked.



"No!" he replied. "I said YOU'RE nuts! I can't believe you did this pitch. The rock feels so slimy!"



So much for Mr. "Go For It, There's Plenty of Friction!"



I tried to remind Parker that his enthusiasm is what got me to climb the route in the first place, but he wasn't accepting the blame. For some reason, he was convinced that I was the crazy one.



I have to say it didn't feel so slimy to me. By the time the pitch was over I'd forgotten all about the weather. I thought the rock was okay, and I really wanted to continue and do pitch two. Parker said if we kept going I'd be leading. He'd led the pitch before and he had no ambition to lead any longer, given the conditions.





(Photo: Examining the roof on pitch two of MF (5.9).)



Pitch two begins with easy moves directly to the right from the bolted anchor, around a small corner. Then it's straight up to the roof. Just beneath the roof is a pin. After clipping the pin I spent a lot of time experimenting and feeling around, trying to find some holds, any holds, that I could use to get up to the obvious horizontal that was out of reach a few feet above the roof.



It's tricky because you can't really see what's just over the roof, and there are no footholds right under the pin. So you paw around over your head, finding nothing. Then you paw around to your left, finding nothing. Then you retreat to the stance to the right of the pin, shake out, and get ready to do it all over again.



I found some really poor crimps around the pin, and kept trying to contrive a way to use them to reach the horizontal over the roof. But it wasn't working out.



After a while I looked at Parker, who was standing just a few feet to my left. I said "I'm about to have you take so I can hang on this stupid pin."



"Dude, your feet are, like, on a ledge," he replied.



"Yeah, but I'm getting frustrated."



I was tired of going back and forth. I wanted to rest and look it over. But just in time I finally found the crucial hold. I'm not going to spoil the details. It makes reaching the horizontal a breeze! And it's hiding right there, in front of your face.



As soon as I had that hold, I stepped right up to the horizontal and clipped the second pin. Then I placed a cam to back it up, even though I was already feeling the pump clock ticking away. Above me I could see the creaky little flake mentioned by Dick in his guidebook. It was the next hold. The path was obvious. It was time to go. A couple quick, pumpy moves and I was through the crux, standing at the big horizontal that heads left. Pitch two was basically in the bag.



Although I really enjoyed the crux, I didn't think the rest of the pitch was nearly as nice. The difficulty level decreases greatly and there's some questionable rock. After traversing left, the pitch follows an obvious corner to the GT Ledge, but it seems numerous other paths can be taken to the finish. It all goes through similar, moderate territory.





(Photo: Parker coming up the final bits of pitch two of MF (5.9).)



Parker reached me on the GT Ledge just as a real storm started to roll in. We could see the rain falling over New Paltz as we set up to rappel and by the time we got to the ground it had reached the cliff. Our climbing day was over after just two pitches.



Ah, but what a pair of pitches.



I realize this particular trip to the Gunks was a waste of a vacation day. I know I've been clinging to summer, to the climbing season. It's been good and I don't want it to end. I probably should have gotten out of bed on Tuesday, looked out the window, and called it off. That would have been the sensible thing to do.



But then I would have missed MF.



And MF I will cherish. It's so nice to have my last climbs of the season confirm that I've made progress. Maybe I'll still be able to squeeze one more milestone into the year. And maybe not. It doesn't matter. It's been a great year either way.