Memories

I’ll keep the words to a minimum on this post and I’ll let the pictures do the talking. I found a couple of CD’s worth of pictures from a climbing trip I took a couple years ago. I love looking at pictures like this. Each one tells a different story. It’s great.


So so close on the Sit Start. Came back the next year and got it 2nd go. I love that feeling. Love it!


Slushy Puppy and Slushy Puppy low. Everyone has epics at some point and the sit was one of mine.


Such a bad idea. That’s all you can say for this. Offwidths are always a bad idea.


It’s rare you see a picture of this boulder with no one actually climbing on it. I think that’s why I like it so much.


Kelsen taking a lap on the Mulletino roof. I like the little bits of action with Kelsen and Tony. It adds a lot to what would normally be a static image. I’m a fan.

July 30, 2008 | Steve Schultz | 4 Comments »

Heard On The Street

Picture this:  I’m standing on the corner of John Nolan and Northshore in downtown Madison – minding my own business – the lone guy on foot among a crowd of bicycle commuters.  Out of the blue the guy next to me says,”So, are you the guy who swims in the lake every day?”


I should mention that I was wearing a full wetsuit.  I also had goggles strapped over my bright orange swim cap.

I said:  ”Um, yeah, but really there are dozens of us.  Really, I see eight or ten others every day I’m in the water.  Really, I do.  Really.”

I don’t know if he bought this.  It’s partially true.  I mean, I sometimes see other swimmers in Lake Monona.  Once, I counted eight of them, but they looked like they were part of a team or a club.  It is – after all – the Wisconsin Ironman course.  People do swim it every once in awhile.

It’s also true that most swimmers drive, and put on their wetsuits in the parking lot right there.  I’m probably the only one who walks, but then again it’s only two short blocks away.  I think I would look even stranger on a bike, in a wetsuit, but maybe I could pull it off.  I guess I could skateboard, but how would I lock it up?  It’s probably better to walk.

(I don’t think that my Vibram Five Fingers help my image that much, but I love them.  Thanks Darren!)

The nice commuter said,”Well, good effort for you and all the others, then.  Way to go.”  That made me feel good.  The other riders at the light were trying hard to ignore me.  Each had a studied ambivalence, and yet they were most certainly watching from the corners of their eyes.

While walking to the lake, I’ve learned to put on my best “Yes, I know I’m wearing a wetsuit” look.  This is really hard to pull off while wearing goggles, but I try.

While I was in the water, I thought of all of the missed comic opportunities to the original question.  I could’ve said:

  1. “Why no, I don’t know how to swim.” (In my best Chevy Chase dry delivery…)
  2. “Um, no, I’m on my way to work – I’m a safe-sex counselor for the State.”
  3. Or this, which would’ve been hard to pull off without sounding sarcastic:  “No, I just really, really like neoprene.”

The best part of this little ritual is coming home.  My neighbors in the condo building have all become used to me walking through the garage in a dripping wetsuit.  My wife Vera always thinks it’s really funny, and the kids always ask,”Were you swimming Daddy?”

I guess if there’s one bright spot to be gleaned from my own embarrassment it’s that my kids will grow up thinking that – somehow – this is normal.

At least, I hope that this is a bright spot.  It may just be their excuse for extensive therapy, too.

Oh well.
July 29, 2008 | Brad Werntz | 2 Comments »

Needful Things

So recently there’s been some debate about whether I need an intervention, or an exorcism.  As far as I can tell, they’re leaning towards the latter.  Janice keeps dousing me in (perhaps Holy) water, Pete’s burning incense, and Steve is doing that strange chanting thing that he does.  (Well, actually, he does that all the time, so…)  While it’s pretty much been decided that I’m not the devil after all, I may have been possessed by Needful Things.


I blame eBay, naturally.

I got it bad.  After riding my brother-in-law’s new cruisers in California, I was seized with nostalgia for my old paper-boy bike.  I bought it in sixth grade and sold it several years later to the kid who took over my route.  Coincidentally, he now lives in La Jolla, so while I was there I dropped him a line.  Here’s how it went:
  1. Me, via e-mail:  “Hey Andy, remember me?  Long time no see, eh?  Hey, I was wondering, do you still have that bike I sold you thirty years ago?”
  2. Andy’s response:  “Have you been drinking?”
Needless to say, he no longer had the bike.  We got together to have a few beers anyway, and I quizzed him about it, just to be sure.  I’m pretty sure he’s telling the truth.  Pretty sure.  At least, he looked me in the eyes and didn’t blink when I asked.  I’ve learned that this is a good sign. 

 (Is it a bad sign that Andy asked the bouncer to escort him out of the bar, and to make sure that I didn’t leave until he was gone?)

So I Googled my old bike to see if I could buy it anywhere.  It was a Gary Littlejohn 26″ Three-Bar Cruiser.  As it turns out, it’s a collector’s item now.  Apparently, it was one of the very first BMX cruiser bikes on the market.  The only one I found for sale was going for $3,000, and all of the rest are in museums.

Short of robbing a bank for the funds, I couldn’t have one for money, trade, or personal favors.  Actually, after some thought I drew the line at personal favors – for a man with a monkey on my back I still have some scruples.  I’m still considering the bank heist, though.

So, I started haunting eBay’s vintage yards, once again.  You may remember that I spent this spring rebuilding my old road bike, and it’s just about done.  Luckily, there’s a lot more vintage parts available for old BMX than there are for old road bikes, and there’s only one standard so I don’t have to do as much research to make sure that the parts will fit.  I found an old three-bar cruiser frame that’s only a few years younger than the Littlejohn, and a stack of gorgeous parts.  Here’s how I’m doing, so far:

Fountain of Youth?  Do brand-new twenty-five-year-old parts make you younger? We’ll see.

Now, I’m just waiting for the frame and fork to arrive.  Everyone here is, too.  The second it arrives, everybody gets the day off.  Well, except for me. 

I’ll need some time alone with my things.
July 18, 2008 | Brad Werntz | 3 Comments »

drama…

I’m neither a Wisconsin native, nor particularly attached to the sport – and even I can’t bear the suspense. My heart goes out to the rest of the state. We’ll make it through, somehow…

July 11, 2008 | Pete Witucki | 3 Comments »

On "Mountain Madness"

Pray for a brave heart: one that does not fear death, that counts a long life among the least of Heaven’s gifts. – Juvenal


Climbers and paddlers generally get a tough rap in the press when it comes to accidents. “Climber falls at Devil’s Lake.” “Paddlers drown after running dam.” These deaths are as unfortunate as any other, and as a paddler and climber, they give me pause. But a careful reading of the news article too often reveals it is a hiker venturing off trail that stumbles on the bluffs or a couple of novices who climb into a canoe for the first time, without basic safety equipment and unaware of the hazards downstream. 

Is the news media ignorant of the distinction, or attempting to summarize the event in a short (and compelling) headline? Both, undoubtably, and it does these activities a disservice. Yes there is considerable risk in climbing and paddling. Training, experience, and sound judgement can mitigate some – not all – of this risk. But our activities deserve a fair accounting of both our tragedies and accomplishments, and I appreciate when journalists attempt to convey our motivation for climbing and paddling rather than painting all of us as adrenaline junkies, taunting death.

Timothy Egan writes a very fair op-extra on the New York Times Blog, discussing the recent fatalities on Denali. Similarly, the public comments are unusually fair – a real discussion on understanding risk, why we climb, and obligations to our loved ones back home. Obviously there are many answers, but I like Hugh McIsaac’s suggestion:
Perhaps the gene which leads us on such adventures is the same one enabling our distant ancestors to travel thousands of miles in search of distant lands and new beginnings. The gap between triumph and tragedy is often very narrow. (post #17)

July 10, 2008 | Pete Witucki | No Comments »
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