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I was drinking some Hirsch Bourbon tonight and I thought I would share some of the inspiration of this site. Below are the lyrics to Jimmy Buffet's God's Own Drunk. I've provided emphasis on a couple phrases:

Well, like I explained to y'all before I ain't no drinkin' man. I tried it once, and it got me highly irregular and I swore I'd never
do it again. But I promised my brother-in-law that I'd go up and watch his still while he went into town to vote.

It was up there on the mountain where the map said it would be. Friends let me tell you one thing though, it wasn't no ordinary still. It stood up that mountainside like...like a huge golden opal.

God's yellar moon was a' shinin' on the cool clear evenin', God's little lanterns just a' twinklin' on and off in the heavens and, like I explained to you once before, I ain't no drinkin' man, But, temptation got the best of me, and I took a slash...(Washew!...whoa...) That yellar whiskey runnin' down my throat like honeydew vine water, and I took another slash. Took another and another and another. 'Fore you knew it I'd downed one whole jug o' that sh*t and commenced to get hot flashes.

Goosepimples was runnin' up and down my body and a feelin' came over me like, somethin' I'd never experienced before, It's like, like I was in love...

('Why don't we have a little love Mike')

In love for the first time, with anything that moved...animate, inanimate it didn't matter. It's like there's a great neon sign flashin' on and off in my brain sayin, 'Jimmy Buffett there's a great day a comin'...' 'Cause I was drunk.

Now I wasn't, uh, knee-crawlin', slip-slidin', reggy-youngin', commode-huggin' drunk, I was God's own drunk, and a fearless man; And that's when I first saw the bear.

He was a Kodiak lookin' fella 'bout 19 feet tall he rambled up over the hill 'spectin' me to do one of two things: flip or fly, I didn't do either one. It hung him up. He starts sniffin' 'round my body tryin' to smell fear, but he ain't gonna smell no fear, 'cause I'm God's own drunk and a fearless man. It hung him up. He looked me right in my eyes and my eyes was a lot redder than his was. It hung him up.

So I approached him and I said, 'Mr. Bear, I love every hair on your
27 acre body. I know you got a lotta friends over there on the other side of the hill. There's ole' Rear Bear, Tall Bear, Freddy Bear, Kelly Jair, Relly Bear, Smelly the Bear, Smokey the Bear, Pokey the Bear; I want you to go back over there tonight and tell 'em I'm feelin' right. You tell 'em I love each and every one of 'em like a brother and a sister...but if they give me any trouble tonight, I'm gonna run every Goddamned one of 'em off the hill.'

He took two steps backwards and didn't know what to think. Neither did I, but, being charitable and cautious, well hell, I approached him again. I said, 'Mr. Bear, you know in the eyes of the Lord, we're both beasts when it comes right down to it. So I want you to be my buddy, Buddy Bear.' So I took ole' Buddy Bear by his island sized paw and I led him over to the still. Now he's a' sniffin' around that thing 'cause he's smellin' somethin' good. I gave him one of them jugs of honeydew vine water, he downed it upright, (looked like one of them damn bears in the circus sippin' sasparilly in the moonlight.) I gave him another and another and another 'fore I knew it, he'd downed eight of 'em and commenced to do the 'bear dance.' Two sniffs, a snort, a fly, a turn and a grunt...and it was so
simple like the jitterbug it plumb evaded me.

And we worked ourselves into a tumultuous uproar and I's awful tired, went over to the hillside, and I laid down, went to sleep, slept for four hours, and dreamt me some tremulous dreams And when I woke up, Oh, there was God's yellar moon a' shinin' on the clear cool evenin'. And God's little lanterns just a' twinklin' on and off in the heavens...And my buddy the bear was a' missin'...Yeah, you want to know somethin' else friends and neighbors, so was that still.

'That's a take. Wait, could uh...you missed it?'

Mountaineering Style

This post goes a little deeper then a Mountain Light Jacket from The North Face or a R2 fleece from Patagonia. I would like to talk about a climbing style that is poisoning the sport of mountaineering. Mark Jenkins has written a great article in the September 2005 issue of Outside magazine entitled The Element of Style.

The article starts with a conversation with Ed Viesturs, the first American to climb all 14 of the world's 8,000-meter peaks. Viesturs reflects on reading the book, Annapurna. It was written by Maurice Herzog; outlining the first accent of the 26,545-foot Nepalese peak with the same name by a 1950 French expedition. Viesturs remembers:

"Camaraderie, bravery, sacrifice, perseverance. That's the book that got me into climbing. I grew up in the great mountaineering state of Illinois and moved to Seattle right after high school. I could see Rainier out my dorm-room window. That was my Annapurna then."

Later, Ed touches on his training strategy:

Could I train myself to meet the demands of climbing at high altitude? Could I train my mind? It wasn't just about getting to the top; I wanted to experience what it felt like up there. Going without oxygen was more interesting, more challenging—technically, physically, and mentally.

The below illustration depicts two forms of mountaineering style. The one on the right is the Ed Viesturs way. The one on the left is a style that is creeping into the mountaineering community like an infectious disease.

The climber on the left is clipped into a fixed line; has a supplemental oxygen mask; and is carrying an abundant amount of gear. Equipment that may never be carried back down.

This type of climbing is what destroys not only the nature of the sport but also the "field of play":

Fixed lines contribute to the despoliation of our mountains. They allow an excess of equipment—extra food, oxygen tanks, computers, iPods, etc.—to be carried to high camps, and much of it is never brought back down. Even the fixed lines themselves are often not removed, leaving yet more debris on the peak. Leave No Trace has been a maxim for backpackers for decades, and yet this basic principle is frequently ignored in mountaineering.

I have to admit, I have been guilty of carrying my iPod on some of my mountaineering trips, thus, contributing to the degradation of mountaineering style. However, I do agree with the point Jenkins is making. Would I love the chance to say that I've published a From The Still post on the top of Everest? Of course, but that's showing some serious disrespect to my climbing buddies and the mountain.

Jenkins goes on with the comparison of using a step ladder as an aid to dunk a basketball to illustrate the absurdity of the use of oxygen tanks in mountaineering. What type of message can this send to current and future climbers? Hey, you know what? If we carry more gear and some oxygen tanks it is really only going to be like climbing to 24,000 feet instead of 26,000 feet. Our training can be tailored to that; more gear, less elevation. It should be our duty to ask the following questions on every climb: Am I climbing in a ethical way? Am I climbing in a respectful way?

Why we climb is personal, but how we climb—a question hardly ever asked—is communal. How we climb defines the spirit of our sport. How we climb has a direct impact on not just the practice and future of mountaineering but the health of the alpine environment.

If you read just one page of this article, read page 5. Climbers everywhere should be able to..

...visualize the day when, with ultra-modern bivouac gear, a climbing party of two sets off to do an 8000m. peak just as today one sets off to do a hard route on the Grand Teton or Mont Blanc...Such climbing demands deep outdoor acumen, technique that has become instinctual, mental stamina, the legs and lungs of a locomotive—all of which require years of apprenticeship in the mountains to develop. When you substitute oxygen for training, fixed lines for technique, and Sherpas for uncompromising personal responsibility, you've not only diminished the great, mortal game of mountaineering; you may have diminished yourself.

TF6S and I are going to attempt to do a series on this subject. I'm sure he will keep up his end of the bargain providing intelligent content from research and personal experience. Let's hope that I can keep up mine!

New Home

The move is complete; from the still has a new home. You know when someone buys a house who really isn't ready to buy a house? Half the windows don't have blinds; rooms don't have furniture. I'm hoping that this isn't the case here. It is possible, however, if I follow by past behavior.

Here's to new beginnings!

New ISP Post

Just a post to test if the site has officially moved over to the new ISP.

Politically Uncorrect

I heard this song the other day. It's a Gretchen Wilson song called Politically Uncorrect. It's a duet with Merle Haggard. It's not quite the caliber of Fightin' Side Of Me or Okie From Muskogee but I dig it anyway:

I'm for the low man on the totem pole
And I'm for the underdog God bless his soul
And I'm for the guys still pulling third shift
And the single mom raisin' her kids
I'm for the preachers who stay on their knees
And I'm for the sinner who finally believes
And I'm for the farmer with dirt on his hands
And the soldiers who fight for this land

Chorus:

And I'm for the Bible and I'm for the flag
And I'm for the working man, me and ol' hag
I'm just one of many
Who can't get no respect
Politically uncorrect

(Merle Haggard)
I guess my opinion is all out of style
(Gretchen Wilson)
Aw, but don't get me started cause I can get riled
And I'll make a fight for the forefathers plan
(Merle Haggard)
And the world already knows where I stand

Repeat Chorus

(Merle Haggard)
Nothing wrong with the Bible, nothing wrong with the flag
(Gretchen Wilson)
Nothing wrong with the working man me & ol' hag
We're just some of many who can't get no respect
Politically uncorrect
(Merle Haggard)
Politically uncorrect