If - Vancouver was born
“Quite fun. Ran up this with my partner on our first time
  up to the top of the Chief. Great fun!” - Juler 2011-09-03

Then - The alpine was created


Mountaineers started at sea level and they walked
into a


“Million thanks to the one who put
permanent draws on the bolts” - calvinclimb 2011-09-07


veritable howling wilderness
to counter this foreign *******

Thus the alpine was created by us:
Learned cosmopolitan alpinists

Would not could not cannot popularize
The exclusive sport of learned cosmopolitan alpinists
To popularize was to vulgarize


“My buudy took a big fall fell clipping,
lucky falls are super safe” - boulamania 2013-06-05

Take for instance Art Cooper’s statement:
You've heard about the Squamish Chief,
The way they go up that rock wall
I don’t think that’s climbing at all.”

No Art, certainly not
Now they do not stay long enough to feel diminished
Unlike us learned cosmopolitan alpinists
“Everyone in the free world has climbed this uber-classic!
Should you get lost, ask the party in front of you where to go” - rock climbing.com
Who drove our teeth through our lips for our
Exploratory climbing
Now
A well used recreational area

He hears their  chuckling
every now and then
above the alpine,
in a place where
none of them truly belonged.
But the sacred saw them worthy,
giving them borrowed time
to etch their memories
on the stone age frost.

Fear gave them such
sweet inspiration,
those precious moments
to leave their speedy footprints
in the endless drifts,
filling crevasses,
that disappeared
forever
in the freezing gales.

They have all dispersed
to different parts of the globe,
each one knowing
the beauty of the mountain,
in its raw form
& never forgetting
their laughter
they once had
on the lip of her ice
kissing pain.
Amen.

There we were,
at the tongue of the glacier
hanging out on the rocks,
a mile above the cloud deck.
We lay around
in various stages
of ams,
making small talk,
heads pounding
like a million
voodoo drums,
the smell of tuna
glued to our teeth
& wondering about the future.
It's what alpinists do
to pass the time
before the ascent,
when the rest of the world
doesn't exist.

Wandering the ridge line
alone on high alert,
I kept my head on a swivel
as I moved down
into the humid-cool-mist
toward high camp.

Boulders strewn about
the size of Volkswagens
littered the landscape
as I walked
cautiously
expecting to see
Teradactyls in flight,
scavenging for their
next meal.

This place was the real deal,
barren, rugged & brutal,
the place where flying dinosaurs
could ruin your day.

It's no wonder most
people never come up here
to play. Alpinists say
they love it that way,
the fewer the better.

But I have my doubts.
I read something somewhere
about being able to outrun
your mates in the event
of an aerial carnivore-attack.
'Cause out here all alone,
I was an easy meal,
a sitting duck,
fodder for those
vicious-creatures.

I was overjoyed
when I saw the yellow speck
of my nylon tent.
I jumped with happiness,
thanked the mountain-gods
for my safe passage,
warm soup & gossamer feathers,
a restive-stronghold from
hungry reptiles!