Trip Report Buck Naked, a new route with Cedar Wright way back in the day, by Disaster Master

by

by Disaster Master Monday November 29, 2010 4:45am

by PAUL HUMPHREY



Paul Humphrey

Paul Humphrey Credit: Disaster Master





...It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. The cliff was heating up quickly in the afternoon sun. We were miles from an open road. Far below us the drainage of Surprise Creek fed the wild South Fork of the Trinity River. The face was untouched.





Cedar Wright

Cedar Wright Credit: Disaster Master



Pants are good. Someone was on to something there. Everything is contained, you know... Protected. Tidy. Nudity and climbing, although possibly each entertaining on their own, are poor companions. Hour upon sun-fried hour passed as Cedar clawed, hung and threw his way up the steep blank slab. He was oblivious to his naked state, engrossed in the problem. I was left with nothing better to do than watch the groove dug by my leg loops grow deeper over time. Good times, (ouch), good times.



After a few years Cedar shouted down that he was ready to drill. He hauled the beast up, then fell into a tirade. The bolts were all in pieces, five each. I had painted them gray to match the rock in the morning, and had neglected to reassemble them. Now each time Cedar finished a hole he would shower bolt-related obscenities towards me, thoroughly ruining the ambiance. After eleven bolt tantrums I lowered him.



My groin was numb. My toes tingled. I was baked by the Sun. Cedar was psyched. Yah, man, youll dig it. It totally engrossing. Tripped out, you know?



I flashed a half-ass smile and marched with reserve to the rope. Burned, then hung up for the Turkey Vultures. A regular TV dinner. I just wanted the damn thing over with.



Now it would stand to reason that, at least for male climbers, nudity and slab climbing present a new realm of injury possibilities. Abrasions in particular come quickly to mind. Deep in our brains, however, our survival mechanisms kick in, tipped off by sweaty palms, increased heart-rate, and our conscious mind screaming This is insane! This triggers a physical response related to fear called Shrinkage. Landing gear up, weve taken off.



Twenty feet up I was completely focused on the unique climbing. The blank slab was broken only by small letterbox pockets every eight feet or so. I found the only solution was to dyno up the slab, dead-pointing pocket to pocket. I have rarely been so motivated to succeed.



Thats when the shooting started.



It was far down the drainage to the west. A few shots would go off, then some others, as if someone was returning fire. We learned later that some hunters had stumbled into a patch of Humboldt's largest crop. Unfortunately, the gardeners were in mid harvest, and someone started shooting. At the time we had no clue, and continued the project.



A short time later I had drill in hand, ready to finish equipping the route. I pulled the drills trigger, then held on for the ride as it melted its way through the limestone. I killed the drill, ready to place the bolt, but the noise of an engine remained. Suddenly, directly over my head, a fixed wing plane shot into view over the top of the cliff, no more than 200 feet off the deck. It was a California Highway Patrol spotter plane, all done up in black and white. I would have crapped my pants had I been wearing any.



The sight of a sunburned naked man lashed to the side of the cliff, holding what looks like an assault pistol, seemed to startle the pilot. I could see his face as he buzzed over. Instead of continuing towards the gunfire, the plane circled back for another look. Trying to look casual I continued to place the bolt during this second fly-by. Ignore it and it will go away, right? No such luck. Back they came again. What were they going to do, drop us a ticket? This time we both looked up and gave a thumbs up. The pilot shook his head and turned down the valley.



This was getting ridiculous. We decided that we had better get going sooner than later. The gunshots died down as I sunk the last of the bolts required for the line. Then we hightailed it out of there. Days later we returned to bag the first ascent of Buck Naked. BUCK NAKEDby PAUL HUMPHREY(This is from 2000ish. It takes place at Castle Rock [No, not that one] in far NW California......It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. The cliff was heating up quickly in the afternoon sun. We were miles from an open road. Far below us the drainage of Surprise Creek fed the wild South Fork of the Trinity River. The face was untouched.Cedar had the bright idea of shedding our clothes before we began projecting the cliff. I thought, hey, why not, and ducked around a boulder to sunscreen thoroughly. By the time I emerged Cedar was ready to go, tied in and adorned only in harness, shoes, and (thank God!) a chalk bag. I settled back beneath a nearby fir and put him on belay, partially obstructing the view with a branch. The torture began.Pants are good. Someone was on to something there. Everything is contained, you know... Protected. Tidy. Nudity and climbing, although possibly each entertaining on their own, are poor companions. Hour upon sun-fried hour passed as Cedar clawed, hung and threw his way up the steep blank slab. He was oblivious to his naked state, engrossed in the problem. I was left with nothing better to do than watch the groove dug by my leg loops grow deeper over time. Good times, (ouch), good times.After a few years Cedar shouted down that he was ready to drill. He hauled the beast up, then fell into a tirade. The bolts were all in pieces, five each. I had painted them gray to match the rock in the morning, and had neglected to reassemble them. Now each time Cedar finished a hole he would shower bolt-related obscenities towards me, thoroughly ruining the ambiance. After eleven bolt tantrums I lowered him.My groin was numb. My toes tingled. I was baked by the Sun. Cedar was psyched. Yah, man, youll dig it. It totally engrossing. Tripped out, you know?I flashed a half-ass smile and marched with reserve to the rope. Burned, then hung up for the Turkey Vultures. A regular TV dinner. I just wanted the damn thing over with.Now it would stand to reason that, at least for male climbers, nudity and slab climbing present a new realm of injury possibilities. Abrasions in particular come quickly to mind. Deep in our brains, however, our survival mechanisms kick in, tipped off by sweaty palms, increased heart-rate, and our conscious mind screaming This is insane! This triggers a physical response related to fear called Shrinkage. Landing gear up, weve taken off.Twenty feet up I was completely focused on the unique climbing. The blank slab was broken only by small letterbox pockets every eight feet or so. I found the only solution was to dyno up the slab, dead-pointing pocket to pocket. I have rarely been so motivated to succeed.Thats when the shooting started.It was far down the drainage to the west. A few shots would go off, then some others, as if someone was returning fire. We learned later that some hunters had stumbled into a patch of Humboldt's largest crop. Unfortunately, the gardeners were in mid harvest, and someone started shooting. At the time we had no clue, and continued the project.A short time later I had drill in hand, ready to finish equipping the route. I pulled the drills trigger, then held on for the ride as it melted its way through the limestone. I killed the drill, ready to place the bolt, but the noise of an engine remained. Suddenly, directly over my head, a fixed wing plane shot into view over the top of the cliff, no more than 200 feet off the deck. It was a California Highway Patrol spotter plane, all done up in black and white. I would have crapped my pants had I been wearing any.The sight of a sunburned naked man lashed to the side of the cliff, holding what looks like an assault pistol, seemed to startle the pilot. I could see his face as he buzzed over. Instead of continuing towards the gunfire, the plane circled back for another look. Trying to look casual I continued to place the bolt during this second fly-by. Ignore it and it will go away, right? No such luck. Back they came again. What were they going to do, drop us a ticket? This time we both looked up and gave a thumbs up. The pilot shook his head and turned down the valley.This was getting ridiculous. We decided that we had better get going sooner than later. The gunshots died down as I sunk the last of the bolts required for the line. Then we hightailed it out of there. Days later we returned to bag the first ascent of Buck Naked.

Trip Report Views: 4,861 Disaster Master About the Author

Paul Humphrey is now fighting stage IV Melanoma, a deadly cancer. More of his story to come...



To follow Paul's curent disaster go to http://www.supertopo.com/climbers-forum/1239624/Malignent-Melanoma-Survivors-who-climb



For poetry:http://www.supertopo.com/climbers-forum/1247175/Pauls-post-your-poetry-Post

Comments Bad Climber



Trad climber The Lawless Border Regions Nov 29, 2010 - 09:35am PT Great story. But, Disaster, that whole "way back in the day" thing has got to be reserved for events at least 20 years ago. One must rack up some serious years before throwing out that phrase, for good or ill.



Keep 'em coming. Love your stories!



BAd Disaster Master



Social climber Born in So-Cal, left my soul in far Nor-Cal. Author's Reply Nov 29, 2010 - 11:28am PT that whole "way back in the day" thing has got to be reserved for events at least 20 years ago. One must rack up some serious years before throwing out that phrase

How about "Way back in MY day?"



I was very serious for several years straight, once. couchmaster



climber Nov 29, 2010 - 09:45am PT Awesome TR! Roxy



Trad climber CA Central Coast Nov 29, 2010 - 10:05am PT awesome TR, great way to start a work day! Ezra Ellis



Trad climber North wet, and Da souf Nov 29, 2010 - 11:21pm PT Paul,

It would be a total disaster to be with naked climbing dudes. Naked chicks I could handle....:) Mungeclimber



Trad climber Nothing creative to say Nov 29, 2010 - 11:27pm PT very er, climbtastic Fritz



Social climber Choss Creek, ID Nov 29, 2010 - 11:33pm PT Oh Yes! I do enjoy these self-exposing stories.



I find equally embarrassing stories impossible to write----------- until a number of years have eased the pain. GDavis



Social climber SOL CAL Nov 30, 2010 - 12:16am PT bwahahahah rad! graniteclimber



Trad climber The Illuminati -- S.P.E.C.T.R.E. Division Jul 30, 2011 - 09:46pm PT Thanks! Mister_Roborto



Trad climber Queensland Jul 31, 2011 - 12:05am PT Following the first-hand stories I've heard, this great TR shocks me. I'd come to believe that Magoo only climbs on Toprope and gets everyone to do his rigging for him - just like me since I'm mostly guided donini



Trad climber Ouray, Colorado Jul 31, 2011 - 12:09am PT Nice! Cedar looks really young in that photo. Alpinista55



Mountain climber Portland, OR Aug 2, 2011 - 03:32pm PT Awesome TR...



Reminds me of my all-time best day of rock climbing. Lying in a meadow naked after climbing Colchuck Peak in the Washington Cascades, gazing up at an unnamed granite crag above the meadow. An hour later after a naked free solo up the face of the crag, then a cheval along the knife-edge to the summit, wondering how the hell I was going to barefoot downclimb 500 feet of 5.7 - 5.8 without scraping something important off in the process.



These days, if I'm out single-handing my boat, I sometimes do a bit of naked sailing... jfailing



Trad climber PDX Aug 2, 2011 - 07:12pm PT Great TR - good memories from Paul nutjob



Sport climber Almost to Hollywood, Baby! Aug 2, 2011 - 11:15pm PT The view from the belay seat sounds grim!



Man oh man, even a FISH chalkbag is not big enough. graniteclimber



Trad climber The Illuminati -- S.P.E.C.T.R.E. Division Jun 9, 2015 - 07:15pm PT Nudity and climbing, although possibly each entertaining on their own, are poor companions.

...at least for male climbers, nudity and slab climbing present a new realm of injury possibilities. Abrasions in particular come quickly to mind. Deep in our brains, however, our survival mechanisms kick in, tipped off by sweaty palms, increased heart-rate, and our conscious mind screaming This is insane! This triggers a physical response related to fear called Shrinkage.



Suddenly, directly over my head, a fixed wing plane shot into view over the top of the cliff, no more than 200 feet off the deck. It was a California Highway Patrol spotter plane, all done up in black and white. I would have crapped my pants had I been wearing any.

The sight of a sunburned naked man lashed to the side of the cliff, holding what looks like an assault pistol, seemed to startle the pilot. I could see his face as he buzzed over. Instead of continuing towards the gunfire, the plane circled back for another look. Trying to look casual I continued to place the bolt during this second fly-by. Ignore it and it will go away, right? No such luck. Back they came again. What were they going to do, drop us a ticket? This time we both looked up and gave a thumbs up. The pilot shook his head and turned down the valley.

LOL