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A Satire A Satire  by mrauthentic616rm2

Unknown to many people in this world, there exists a rare breed of awesomely handsome and beautiful humans. These people are savvy and fit.. They are one of a kind. They have great hair and are able to do pull ups with only two fingers! Spandex pant and bright neon colored shirts adorn their bodies. These more than human superstars are ROCK CLIMBERS!!! These supernaturally awesome rock climbers are semi related to meadow fairies, and consequently have opted out of education, and the nine to five job lifestyle. Living in the woods, climbing cliffs and mountains alike, they never shower or cut their hair, for that would be a major disgrace to their meadow fairy ancestry.

Bataan Memorial Death March Bataan Memorial Death March  by rayray

Each year in southern New Mexico, a unique event is held in honor of a very special group of Americans, the Battling Bastards of Bataan. People from virtually every state in the United States and even other countries around the world converge on the Chihuahuan Desert of New Mexico to take part in a grueling 26.2-mile trek through the desert known as the Bataan Memorial Death March. The Battling Bastards of Bataan symbolize a great generation, one whose values and sacrifices leave their descendants in a debt of gratitude. I like to think that those who participate in this event do so for the same reasons I do - simply to remember, honor, and thank that group and their generation. And while the ranks of Bataan Survivors diminish, the event that honors their sacrifices and those of their fallen comrades grows ever larger. They will not be forgotten.

Letter to an Old Friend Letter to an Old Friend  by Bob Sihler

There you were, bold against the snow in the Lamar Valley, ears erect, snout down, ready to pounce, listening for the self-betraying movement of your prey in its dug-out tunnels a few inches below.

You paid not a bit of attention to me. In one sense, I was glad; it's not worth getting the perfect picture of an animal if doing so means disrupting it, and such disruptions can be harmful or even fatal to the animal. But in another sense, I was a little saddened not to be acknowledged; some part of me, the part that thrives on feeling like a part of the pulse of the wilderness, craved your notice and subsequent acceptance-- not friendship but not fear, either-- just acceptance.

We Forget Sometimes We Forget  by Michael Hoyt

Admit it. Each of us who thoroughly enjoys "the wilderness" has felt probably more than once that were owed such experiences. We convince ourselves that, if for no other reason, wild places should be preserved so we can continue to indulge our desire for solitude. In this, I am as guilty as anyone. But...

A moments reflection brings the realization that Im not the first person who visited any particular wild area of the mountains. Indians, trappers, prospectors, hunters, and farmers walked the mountains, each bushwhacking through deadfall, following animal trails, scratching a living from the land.

In Defiance
of <i>the Edge<i> In Defiance of the Edge  by alpinistahombre

A mountain climber reaches an unattainable feat and either ponders or just bellows-out “Conquest at last!” A great moment of added satisfaction has been acquired, and achievement incurred. Returning back to camp, he or she descends from a great adrenal blitz, and moves to celebrate the day. The climber looks back at the mountain with new admiration, inspiration, and memory. One very small aspect of that mountain was made accessible that day, by Mother Nature—the gatekeeper, and the mystery of that specific route was removed.

Meditations on the Guglia Meditations on the Guglia  by mvs

Last August, despite a long spell of bad weather, I had the pleasure of climbing on the Campanile Basso with my friend Aidan. It was our first visit to the Brenta Range. Starting the hike in late afternoon, we had to laugh at the extended friendly hordes of Italians coming down the trail. It was a hot day and my pack felt heavy. I lazed along, somewhere behind Aidan, but I finally perked up when we saw the massive Crozzon di Brenta in front of us. Actually that's what we wanted to climb, but a big pile of fresh snow covered the top, and the hut warden thought we were crazy to even think about it. We chickened out, but were well rewarded with the Basso.

Friends in
High Places Friends in High Places  by Bob Sihler

At a cocktail party or other social event, I'm the guy standing alone in a corner, nursing his drink and looking distant and disinterested. At a professional seminar, I'm one of the people who heads straight for the back of the room and who finds a way to slip out when the speaker splits people into task-focused groups. When SPers in my area got together over some beers to talk about mountains and whatever else, I knew I was out; had they been planning a hike or climb and then burgers and beers afterward, that would have worked for me, but I wasn't walking cold into a social setting with people I hadn't met before.

Duke, but not Ellington Duke, but not Ellington  by toc

He was born in Madrid to the then king of Spain who abdicated his throne just few weeks after his son's birth and returned to Italy. When six years old, little Luigi was assigned to the Italian Navy and received his entire education in military schools. Before he was 40 he had become one of the greatest mountaineers and explorers of his time.

Adventurer’s Perspective The Adventurer’s Perspective  by alpinistahombre

Counting stars in a night sky is a pastime of analyst-types and over-zealous scientists, but to view a night sky with the widened eyes as an adventurer fills far beyond one's mind, but one's very soul. The everyday tourist is but an enemy to themselves, without knowing so. They travel from colony-to-colony, place-to-place, or region-to-region. Various stops are made to take a photograph of a distant natural feature, to shop a roadside shop, to indulge on a meal, or to simply "take a stretch." Does it ever cross the mind of an everyday tourist, visiting from afar, that there is much to gain on the horizon, much to experience down in that canyon, more to see with the naked eye from that summit, so much more to illuminate them just across that nearby river or stream? Does and everyday tourist feel the "call of the wild" or do they only notice how cold or wet it is "out there"?

Finding my
Inner Republican (or Democrat?) in the Mountains Finding my Inner Republican (or Democrat?) in the Mountains  by AJones

Being Canadian, I knew I needed to know more about the political workings of our friendly, but sometimes scary, neighbour to the south. I was especially interested in whether or not I would be a republican or a democrat. Reading the front page of SummitPost over the last month, I knew where to find my answers – why in the mountains, of course. If folks could find religion and science in the mountains, why I thought, couldn’t I figure out if I was cheering for the republicans or the democrats?

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