"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.