Well, it's story time, again. This is a little diatribe that I should have written about a few years ago, but…uh….I was kinda busy. For all of you out there who think that I just pick on sport weenies (yea, I like pickin' on them more) here's a little ditty turning on my fellow tradition climber (if you can call them that). Have fun.

During a recent trip to the great and wonderful Tennessee Wall near Chattanooga, TN, I came across the most horrid example of a "Trad" climber that I have ever seen. The prior few days of our trip had been rainy so my partner and I had been unable to climb. When the rain finally broke we eagerly awoke and hiked to the cliff. When we arrived we were shocked at what we found.

OK, picture this. It's near early morning; 7:30am. There are four hillbillies sitting at the base of a popular climb discussing their strategy for the climb. While three of the four are detailing the "plan" to the non-climber of the group, they each slam 4/5 Budweisers and take a hit from their handy bong. As my partner and I look at each other in amazement we try to move out of "splatter" range as these jokers begin tying in.

Now, don't get me wrong; they were plenty nice, just a little off center. They greeted us as we hiked along the tail, often trying to include us in their conversations. We did abstain, but it was hard. At the end of the day, I really couldn't tell you if these guys made it out alive. Maybe you can tell for yourself. The following is (as the best I can remember) their conversation.

Players:

Indy = Best damn bolt chopper in the world (especially So IL)
Randal = Indy's regular partner and "Ladies Man"
Drunk Hill-billie #1 = Nough said.
Drunk Hill-billie #2 - "Pass the bong, dude"
Drunk Hill-billie #3 - "Oh, god-damn! I like goats, too."
Drunk Hill-billie #4 - "What's this climbin' thing all about, anyway?"

Indy and Randal Approach from around the buttress of the rock, overhearing boisterous chatter and laughter.

Drunk Hill-billie #1 (directed toward Drunk Hill-billie #4): "You bunch of god-damn pussies don't know what climbing is all about. It's about "falling", but it's not about "FALLING". There's a difference. You're goin' to "fall", but you're not goin' to "FALL". Ya see, there's a difference. sip taken from beer. "Fallin" is part of climbin' but "FALLING" is about hittin the damn ground.

Drunk Hill-billie #2: Yea, you remember when we let Jimbo rappel off the end of that rope. That shit was about "FALLING".

Drunk Hill-billie #3: That son-of-a-bitch had that shit coming.

Drunk Hill-billie #1: I hear that.

Drunk Hill-billie #4: So what do I do if I have to "FALL"?

Drunk Hill-billie #2: God-damn it! Ain't you been listin'? You ain't going to "FALL"!

Somehow, lost in the conversation is the difference of hitting the ground and relying upon the rope. These dumbasses knew the difference, but didn't translate the point.

Drunk Hill-billie #4 shrinks back and keeps his mouth shut. Meanwhile Indy and Randal come closer.

Drunk Hill-billie #2: Well, howdy boys. You goina do some climbing?

Indy: Yep, we're aiming for this here crack to climb.

Drunk Hill-billie #3: It's about damn time somebody did that damn thing. It's too hard for us, but we'll sit here 'have a beer' and watch.

Drunk Hill-billie #3 sits and chuckles while he gently sips at his beer.

Randal: Well, we appreciate that. Drink one for me.

Drunk Hill-billies #1, 2, 3, 4 drink and all ask for the bong. As Indy and Randal prepare to climb the Drunk Hill-billies notice the shirt that Indy is wearing.

Drunk Hill-billie #1: So, you boys from Mobile, AL.

Indy: Uh, no. We're from St. Louis. You know, 'the king of beers".

Drunk Hill-billie #1: Well, how come your shirt says 'Mobile Response Team'?

Indy: Oh, that says 'Mobile" not Mobile.

Drunk Hill-billie #2: Damn! Directed toward Drunk Hill-billie #1 Your ass must be drunk.

As Indy and Randal ascend and descend their climb the drunken hill-billies get ready to climb.

Drunk Hill-billie #1: Let me tell you about these new god-damn Friends. In a drunken slur. They're fucking awesome, but I didn't trust them damn slings them bunch of pussies at Wild Country sewed on them.

Drunk Hill-billie #2: What ya mean?

Drunk Hill-billie #1: They looked pretty weak so I cut them off and tied my own damn rope on there. I'll trust that shit.

Drunk Hill-billie #3: I hear that shit! I wouldn't ever trust them damn slings. I bet ya that them damn slings were sewn on in some damn sweat shop in the south Pacific.

Drunk Hill-billie #4 tries to disappear as Indy and Randal try to leave the scene. Drunk Hill-billies #1, 2 and 3 drink the last bit of their beer.

Drunk Hill-billie #1: The only problem that I have is that I can't never tell the difference between sizes. You got my Belay? Climbing!

The following are the photos of the Drunken Hillbillies and their rack. Honest, these guys should have had their rack taken from them, but alas, they have the freedom to do as they will. And yea, I hear you bunch of pussies out there who are saying, "Indy should have done something or said something to have stopped them." Uhm, well, NO! You face four drunk/hostile hillbillies and tell me what you would have done. Until next time…

Look at this jackass's rack.