"Gunksfest 2001"

December 26, 2000

    A loud tallish man with glasses is screaming, to no one in
    particular, "Who wants to climb Minty?!?" Some minutes later,
    I find myself struggling to keep up with the man as we hurry
    down the carriage road, taking two steps for every one of
    his, wondering exactly what the hell just happened and why am
    I climbing with a crazy man?

    Two pitches later, Keith, Leon, and I slowly straggle into
    Bacchus and join the other Gunks-feasters as they start in on
    their second round.


December 26, 2001

    A loud tallish man with glasses is screaming, at me in
    particular, "Hey! Wanna climb?" This time, I am prepared to
    fight lunacy with insanity.  "Sure! Let's climb High E!" Some
    minutes later, my calves are on fire as John and I are
    sprint-walking down the carriage road. I'm grinning at the
    thought of getting to climb with a crazy man.

    Fuck #1: "Fuuuck!" John screams. Seems someone has forgotten
    to bring his climbing shoes. The original plan to give John
    the first pitch and the second to me is modified so that I
    have to lead both pitches. I pretend to feel sorry for him
    but I don't think he's buying it, since I'm openly laughing
    out loud and celebrating my good fortune.

    Climbing the pitch now. I'm going as fast as I can, given the
    wet, unfamiliar rock. John thinks that placing pro will slow
    us down, and I agree. Forty feet off the deck with nothing
    in, a foot slips and I catch myself. "Don't dooo that!" John
    calls up. Fifty feet now, and I get a piece in and start to
    traverse. Since he's wearing tennis shoes, I get a few more
    pieces in before I start up again on the prow of
    Directissima. The climbing is amazing and the exposure makes
    me hug the arete a bit tighter. Too soon, it's over and I'm
    at the huge belay ledge.

    Fuck #2: "mmwvzrm!" I ignore the strange muffled sound and
    continue to belay. From time to time, I peer over the edge
    and watch as John makes good progress. Tennies or not, he's
    solid. Clambering over the ledge lip, he greets me with "Did
    you hear me scream 'fuck'?" I mention that I had heard
    something but didn't know what it was. I study his face for a
    moment and then I see that a lens from his glasses is
    missing. Luckily, it popped out only five feet from the
    ground so he was able to retrieve it, but it meant that he
    had climbed the entire pitch with less than stereo vision.
    Gee whiz, he sure has interesting ways of challenging
    himself, I think.

    One more sweet pitch and it's over. As we simul-rap down,
    there's still some daylight left. We estimate that we have
    down the entire route, from bottom to top to bottom in about
    an hour.

    This means, of course, that we have time to climb Disneyland,
    the sport route of the Gunks. Hurrying now in the twilight, I
    am in a full out run with my pack on. Luckily, no one is
    around to see me.

    Seven clipped pitons later, we are back at the car.
    
    Bacchus looks as inviting as ever, and I'm grinning like a
    fool since people will be expecting to hear of an epic on
    High E and I'm looking forward to disappointing them.