Whitney MR - winterlite conditions - longest TR ever
Posted: Sun May 22, 2011 10:04 pm
It seems my lot in life to go it alone. Last Thursday after work, I packed up the Nissan Blaxima with all the appropriate gear and supplies for a 2-night jaunt in the Whitney Zone - sights set on climbing Whitney by the MR, and then Mt. Russell by the south face - right side route. After obtaining my permit and wagbag from the night box, I headed up to the Portal for a mediocre night of sleep in the passenger seat of my car. All the smellgoods placed in the bearbox, hat and jacket secured - I drifted off dreaming of snow-bridges and wild women.
I woke up at dawn, the rushing water nearby a pleasant trade for my alarm clock at home. I wanted to get as much mileage out of my approach shoes as I could, so the boots were tied together and hung over my axes. I ran into a couple newbies ( that's funny ) getting ready to head up the main trail. We talked about conditions, gaiters, and I said goodbye and good luck as I headed up to the scale. Turns out my pack sans boots was 52 pounds. I think I'm pushing it on the weight limit of my Variant 52 btw - and I find it funny that it seems like the younger climbers in our group brag about how much their pack weighs, while the older more experienced in the group brag about how much theirs doesn't weigh. Go figure. I left the snowshoes behind, but brought a 30m rope, 2 axes, harness, some slings, few pitons, couple nuts, and my ATC.
I searched all along the north side of the Portal looking for the entrance to the old trail. I figured it was semi-hidden or I was semi-stupid, so I quickly turned back and took the standard approach to the North Fork. I didn't see a soul to the turn-off, and the trail was clear of snow. I was amazed at the lack of mileage the North Fork to MR required compared to the main trail. This was a nice little bonus, in addition to the more technical spirit and lower traffic it afforded. Past the turn-off, the trail winds up through large pines and past comically large boulders watching guard over the way to the ledges and beyond. I loved it.
The short jaunt you make to the right to gain the north side route of the valley was easy to recognize thanks to the youtube videos Steve C posted, and so were all the rest of the features/turns you had to watch out for. The elephant ear was far less scary in real life than on the video, although that's not to say it wouldn't hurt beyond belief to slip off the face at that point. I think my rock-climbing experience helped with dealing with the exposure of that and the ledges above. On the way up, the worst part was pushing through some of the thick brush that grew near the cliff and seemed to be bent downstream by some great force - most likely snow or water or a large marmot. Luckily, this was only for short portions of the going. The foxtail pine that marked the start of the E ledges was a welcome site.
Just me and my pine
Above the ledges and below Lower Boyscout the snow filled the creek, but it was warmed by the sun, slushy, and broken through in many spots along the sides. I passed a group coming down who turned back due to deep snow on the MR. Great. I tried not to linger here and was rewarded by a nice break at Lower Boyscout to sit and think about the deep snow ahead. The lake mostly covered in a veil-thin layer of ice, small trout surrounding the rock I sat on, tiny songbirds landing in the snow nearby ( looking for a snack? ). I almost didn't get up, it was too nice.
Looking back down at LBSL
I took a few pictures, picked up my axe, and continue along the south side of the lake towards the obvious route to the left of the big slabs. Snow was still a little slushy, but I wasn't sinking in too deep. To this point, I haven't put on the crampons. You could see some ski tracks coming down, and what appeared to be foot travel coming from high above the south side of the North Fork route...a high traverse? It looked really ugly back across from the ledges, but I thought I saw some prints high above there as well. Brave person.
I continued the slog up to UBSL. I stopped at an exposed portion of slab with water running across for a break, and a marmot came over to hang out for a bit. I saw a lot of living things this time out, and the signs of a lot more in the way of tracks and scat. It's all fun and games until they chew a hole in your wagbag. More on that treat-sandwich later! Hi-five! After he realized I wasn't giving up any food, we said goodbye to each other and I continued on up a couple hundred feet more in gain to UBSL, which was poking through the ice in just a couple tiny spots. The views were amazing, and I had the place to myself for a couple hours until a guided group passed by - heading up to camp around 12,100 or so. I finished carving out a tent platform behind a large boulder, and took my time setting up the tent and making things as cozy as I could. Of course,
I got there with so much daylight left. I should have continued up to iceberg and camped there instead, but to be honest I wasn't too keen on schlepping that heavy pack all that way. Lesson learned, it would have paid off the following day for sure. I should mention, the weather to this point seemed nothing like the forecast - it was hot! I took a nap in the tent for a bit, and even with no pants/shirt on on top of my bag, I was too warm. The mountains are a funny thing.
Lighting was nice that afternoon at UBSL...the slope above that cliff band wayyy in the distance on Mt Russell kept sliding off and pouring over the rocks. Too cool/scary.
You can see those chutes on the left of this picture I was considering...until I saw them in person. Not a chance without a partner and a ton of gear. Not for me, at least.
Alarm on my phone goes beep beep at 3:30am the next morning, I'm a little slow getting up, and I leave camp around 430am and head in a southerly direction on the main route up to Iceberg lake. The moon was so bright that I turned my headlamp off, and as I passed by the spot where that guided group had camped, the light from the rising sun turned the whole basin I was in a killer color.
I took the earlier and what I believe to be steeper right hand turn up to iceberg, and it really only firmed up properly just below iceberg. I spotted the group at the base of the chute heading up towards the notch, and it seemed like they were crawling.
I traversed across and started up the chute behind them, taking advantage of the nice trail they had broken with their 8 heavy boots.
As I approached the tail end of the foursome, I could see what great effort the guide was putting forth to break trail. The snow was a beast in the chute - he was sinking mid-shin to knee deep with every step - the top several inches crusty and below that much softer. The 3 climbers behind him weren't have such an easy time either, but I think we'd all have been out of luck if it wasn't for this guy powering through the deep snow in front. We made our introductions, and I offered to break trail for a bit for them...this didn't last long, I probably only ran out in front for 40-50 vertical feet before I had to fall behind the group again. I didn't want to intrude on the group, but the guy at the end was really lagging behind, so I fell in between and tried to help him a bit mentally so he didn't feel like he was totally left alone.
As the guide and the other two got way ahead, they decided to slow their pace so their 4th could catch up. This was a 150 feet below the notch or so. Conditions were getting much worse at this point. The snow was more manageable, but the wind was picking up and it was snowing. It wasn't a white-out, but visibility was poor. The guide, in a nice way, reminded me that he was only guiding these other folks, and that my own decision to continue on/turn back/whatever was on me, not him. I told him I understood, and took it as a nice way of saying "go do your own thing". We all tossed on our down jackets over shells and a base layer, and I sped off past the notch to the final 400.
It was cold! This didn't seem like late May to me, but I felt good about my gear/energy/time left in the day, so I continued on. It was strange, the snow would be blowing all around you, and then the blue sky would poke through. It was really beautiful, one minute you could see just fine, the next you couldn't see the surrounding peaks. The base of the final 400 was exposed rock with thin ice here and there, and I wasn't too keen at climbing in crampons on the rock. I know it's fine, and you can actually get great purchase in small cracks with your points, etc. It just gives me the creeps. I made my way up to my favorite part of the last section - the steep consolidated snow allllll the way up. The picks of my axes plunged so sweetly into the hardened white and I flew up the last section save a couple spots that required a small traverse below rock. As I crested the route I turned back to see the group below just getting roped up.
Mt Russell keeping it real in the distance - brief moment of clarity
They took their sweet time, being very safe and sticking to the west side of the route in the mixed boulders and snow. I sat down and took off my pack, melted a couple liters worth of snow, and it hit me - I was going to be sick. What gives? I leaned over and did my thing - twice. As I thought back, I didn't recall using the restroom since I left camp, which probably meant I wasn't intaking enough fluid. Not cool. More fluid in, I left my gear and headed over to the summit hut. I passed a group of 3 that had come up the main trail, took my picture from the top towards the hut, looked at the register, tried the door ( couldn't open it ), and went back to my gear.
The group had still not come over the edge yet, so I threw the crampons on, grabbed my pack and axes, and headed over to the edge to see what I could see. They were almost up, so I turned to face the hut and made my way over the edge back down the MR. I'd say the last stretch there is 50 degrees or so, I can see why people will take a rappel down from the top. To me, the scarier part is the bottom section. I love the snow ascent/descent, I'll take that all day. Maybe I'm a dope.
Found a seat halfway down
I ended up rapping off a sling for the last 15m to the notch - I wasn't too keen on crampon-downclimbing the rock there.
On my way down the chute, I passed several more people struggling up the tough snow conditions. I think Rick Kent was with a group of dayhikers I passed - at least that's what I think his buddy said down below. I tried not to kick too much snow/ice down on them as I descended, and I was pretty dang tired. It almost seemed harder going down than up. Apparently, one of the ladies in their group was feeling pretty sick, and she was resting at Iceberg. Her friend went down to stay with her and take her back down. As he saw me coming down the chute, he was concerned because I would stop from time to time and just rest. I was fine - my legs were just a little tired ( see: camp at Iceberg next time ) and I was enjoying what little view there was. He thought I might be in bad shape too, so he hurried wayyyy over from his perch to see if I was okay. Really nice guy. We chatted for a bit, and the three of us kinda/sorta made our way down from Iceberg to UBSL and they continued on.
Looking back on the 'ney:
As I walked towards my tent at UBSL, I couldn't wait to drop the gear and take a little nap. I thought " You know what, Adam Burch? The only thing that could make this day sweeter, is if some rodent chewed a hole in your wagbag." We'll guess what...they did. I'd like to know what was going through that guy's mind at the time. How could that possibly seem like a good idea? I handled that issue and dozed off for a bit. I considered packing up the camp and heading down a day earlier - my initial plan had been to climb Mt Russell too the same day, getting back to camp much later, and heading out on Sunday. Considering the iffy weather, and my iffy legs, I decided to head back to camp instead of hanging a left for Russell as I exited the Mountaineers chute. Since I had so much time on my hands, I decided to make use of it. Boots back on, helmet and crampons and axes in hand - I headed down to those beautiful blue ice falls just below UBSL. I didn't have any screws with me, or anyone to belay me for that matter, so I decided just to practice traversing along the base, axe placement, chopping steps to rest my calves, clipping into my axes, downclimbing properly, etc etc. I've got my eye on the V-notch later this year, and these little falls were anywhere from 45 degrees to 60 degrees ( as far as I would go ) towards the bottom, so it was nice practice. I will say, the tech pick on my venom hammer places/pulls out much more easily than the standard pick on my adze. I need to get another tech pick before I do any sustained ice of any angle - the extra work to wiggle it free or swing it home would add up on multiple pitches.
Falls ( pics taken with my cell phone this trip, so quality not the best)
Soooooo, slept through my alarm, got up after 6 am pissed, then realized the late start was a blessing because the sun-softened snow was a much easier descent. Glissaded down to LBSL, slip-slided down from there until the snow stopped in the drainage, and then skipped along the trail down to the ledges.
Looking up at the final section below LBSL
- from melt hi above the southern cliffs
I will say, the E ledges were much scarier on the way down with a full pack. I believe at least one person had died in this area, so I kept that in mind and made sure my feet and hands were placed properly. After a long trip, your tired muscles and mind can really do a number on your coordination, so I took it easy.
The tranquility of the lower NF trail
I still made it down for a tasty breakfast at the store with the Dougs around 930am. It was a perfect end to the trip. The day itself was gorgeous. I passed a lot of people in several stages of preparedness for their hike. Doug's grandson was hand-fishing for trout at the little pond, I had a belly full of hashbrowns and bacon, and the pit-toilets smell so nice in the early season. I headed down the mountain for San Diego, and I realized I had lost my headset so I couldn't use the time to call my family - something that normally helps to pass a long roadtrip. I never listen to the radio, but I figured I'd give it a shot. I instantly remembered why I never listen to the radio. 100.9 the Heat? Is that what it is? Should be 100.9 the Treat - if this is all the poor folks of that area have to listen to ( and it seemed like one of the few stations I could pick up ), I feel for you guys. Or is it like this on all stations, and I'm just in the dark?
First, some song came on that reminded me of when a movie made in the 80's tried to predict how a concert might look in the future... the "2000s", oh my! The way the musicians would dress all strange and their voices would be computerized or modified, etc etc. Enter Lady Gaga.
This is exactly what they were predicting. I'm not sure exactly what she was saying in her song - I could make out "baby" every once in a while, but I knew it made me want to eat my ice axe.
Soooo, following that line of thinking - that goofy music they play in the bar or whatever in Star Wars where Hans shoots first or second or whatever? That's what we have to look forward to. You think it can't get that bad, but it can. They never really though Gaga would be performing that garbage today back in the 70s/80s. Look it up - that's a FACT.
Then! They played that old song, something about a tootsie roll or something. Oh yeah, and it was by those charming wordsmiths: The 69 Boyz? Something like that. Here's a taste.
Cotton candy,sweet and low, let me see your tootsie roll
Here we go, come on, tootsie roll, come on, tootsie roll
Let me see your tootsie roll
Come on, tootsie roll, just dip that tootsie roll and tootsie roll
Here we go tootsie roll
Just I feel a whoop comin up, a whoop comin up,
I just feel a whoop comin up, a whoop comin up,
Whoop, come on, whoop, come on
Whoop, yeah come on come on and,
Whoop whoop whoop, yeah baby
Cotton candy, sweet and low
Let me see that tootsie roll
Now look. You could argue the following:
"Hey Adam, this is really innovative and insightful music. They don't pull any punches with the listener. They prepare you for what's coming up, and they use repetition to make the listener more comfortable. For example, he feels a whoop comin up, and then just a few short seconds later, the promised whoop is delivered - several times over. I like that in a rapper. I also like when they substitute a Z for an S in a title or a group name."
I can't disagree with that logic. How can cotton candy be sweet and low? That's all I'm saying.
I woke up at dawn, the rushing water nearby a pleasant trade for my alarm clock at home. I wanted to get as much mileage out of my approach shoes as I could, so the boots were tied together and hung over my axes. I ran into a couple newbies ( that's funny ) getting ready to head up the main trail. We talked about conditions, gaiters, and I said goodbye and good luck as I headed up to the scale. Turns out my pack sans boots was 52 pounds. I think I'm pushing it on the weight limit of my Variant 52 btw - and I find it funny that it seems like the younger climbers in our group brag about how much their pack weighs, while the older more experienced in the group brag about how much theirs doesn't weigh. Go figure. I left the snowshoes behind, but brought a 30m rope, 2 axes, harness, some slings, few pitons, couple nuts, and my ATC.
I searched all along the north side of the Portal looking for the entrance to the old trail. I figured it was semi-hidden or I was semi-stupid, so I quickly turned back and took the standard approach to the North Fork. I didn't see a soul to the turn-off, and the trail was clear of snow. I was amazed at the lack of mileage the North Fork to MR required compared to the main trail. This was a nice little bonus, in addition to the more technical spirit and lower traffic it afforded. Past the turn-off, the trail winds up through large pines and past comically large boulders watching guard over the way to the ledges and beyond. I loved it.
The short jaunt you make to the right to gain the north side route of the valley was easy to recognize thanks to the youtube videos Steve C posted, and so were all the rest of the features/turns you had to watch out for. The elephant ear was far less scary in real life than on the video, although that's not to say it wouldn't hurt beyond belief to slip off the face at that point. I think my rock-climbing experience helped with dealing with the exposure of that and the ledges above. On the way up, the worst part was pushing through some of the thick brush that grew near the cliff and seemed to be bent downstream by some great force - most likely snow or water or a large marmot. Luckily, this was only for short portions of the going. The foxtail pine that marked the start of the E ledges was a welcome site.
Just me and my pine
Above the ledges and below Lower Boyscout the snow filled the creek, but it was warmed by the sun, slushy, and broken through in many spots along the sides. I passed a group coming down who turned back due to deep snow on the MR. Great. I tried not to linger here and was rewarded by a nice break at Lower Boyscout to sit and think about the deep snow ahead. The lake mostly covered in a veil-thin layer of ice, small trout surrounding the rock I sat on, tiny songbirds landing in the snow nearby ( looking for a snack? ). I almost didn't get up, it was too nice.
Looking back down at LBSL
I took a few pictures, picked up my axe, and continue along the south side of the lake towards the obvious route to the left of the big slabs. Snow was still a little slushy, but I wasn't sinking in too deep. To this point, I haven't put on the crampons. You could see some ski tracks coming down, and what appeared to be foot travel coming from high above the south side of the North Fork route...a high traverse? It looked really ugly back across from the ledges, but I thought I saw some prints high above there as well. Brave person.
I continued the slog up to UBSL. I stopped at an exposed portion of slab with water running across for a break, and a marmot came over to hang out for a bit. I saw a lot of living things this time out, and the signs of a lot more in the way of tracks and scat. It's all fun and games until they chew a hole in your wagbag. More on that treat-sandwich later! Hi-five! After he realized I wasn't giving up any food, we said goodbye to each other and I continued on up a couple hundred feet more in gain to UBSL, which was poking through the ice in just a couple tiny spots. The views were amazing, and I had the place to myself for a couple hours until a guided group passed by - heading up to camp around 12,100 or so. I finished carving out a tent platform behind a large boulder, and took my time setting up the tent and making things as cozy as I could. Of course,
I got there with so much daylight left. I should have continued up to iceberg and camped there instead, but to be honest I wasn't too keen on schlepping that heavy pack all that way. Lesson learned, it would have paid off the following day for sure. I should mention, the weather to this point seemed nothing like the forecast - it was hot! I took a nap in the tent for a bit, and even with no pants/shirt on on top of my bag, I was too warm. The mountains are a funny thing.
Lighting was nice that afternoon at UBSL...the slope above that cliff band wayyy in the distance on Mt Russell kept sliding off and pouring over the rocks. Too cool/scary.
You can see those chutes on the left of this picture I was considering...until I saw them in person. Not a chance without a partner and a ton of gear. Not for me, at least.
Alarm on my phone goes beep beep at 3:30am the next morning, I'm a little slow getting up, and I leave camp around 430am and head in a southerly direction on the main route up to Iceberg lake. The moon was so bright that I turned my headlamp off, and as I passed by the spot where that guided group had camped, the light from the rising sun turned the whole basin I was in a killer color.
I took the earlier and what I believe to be steeper right hand turn up to iceberg, and it really only firmed up properly just below iceberg. I spotted the group at the base of the chute heading up towards the notch, and it seemed like they were crawling.
I traversed across and started up the chute behind them, taking advantage of the nice trail they had broken with their 8 heavy boots.
As I approached the tail end of the foursome, I could see what great effort the guide was putting forth to break trail. The snow was a beast in the chute - he was sinking mid-shin to knee deep with every step - the top several inches crusty and below that much softer. The 3 climbers behind him weren't have such an easy time either, but I think we'd all have been out of luck if it wasn't for this guy powering through the deep snow in front. We made our introductions, and I offered to break trail for a bit for them...this didn't last long, I probably only ran out in front for 40-50 vertical feet before I had to fall behind the group again. I didn't want to intrude on the group, but the guy at the end was really lagging behind, so I fell in between and tried to help him a bit mentally so he didn't feel like he was totally left alone.
As the guide and the other two got way ahead, they decided to slow their pace so their 4th could catch up. This was a 150 feet below the notch or so. Conditions were getting much worse at this point. The snow was more manageable, but the wind was picking up and it was snowing. It wasn't a white-out, but visibility was poor. The guide, in a nice way, reminded me that he was only guiding these other folks, and that my own decision to continue on/turn back/whatever was on me, not him. I told him I understood, and took it as a nice way of saying "go do your own thing". We all tossed on our down jackets over shells and a base layer, and I sped off past the notch to the final 400.
It was cold! This didn't seem like late May to me, but I felt good about my gear/energy/time left in the day, so I continued on. It was strange, the snow would be blowing all around you, and then the blue sky would poke through. It was really beautiful, one minute you could see just fine, the next you couldn't see the surrounding peaks. The base of the final 400 was exposed rock with thin ice here and there, and I wasn't too keen at climbing in crampons on the rock. I know it's fine, and you can actually get great purchase in small cracks with your points, etc. It just gives me the creeps. I made my way up to my favorite part of the last section - the steep consolidated snow allllll the way up. The picks of my axes plunged so sweetly into the hardened white and I flew up the last section save a couple spots that required a small traverse below rock. As I crested the route I turned back to see the group below just getting roped up.
Mt Russell keeping it real in the distance - brief moment of clarity
They took their sweet time, being very safe and sticking to the west side of the route in the mixed boulders and snow. I sat down and took off my pack, melted a couple liters worth of snow, and it hit me - I was going to be sick. What gives? I leaned over and did my thing - twice. As I thought back, I didn't recall using the restroom since I left camp, which probably meant I wasn't intaking enough fluid. Not cool. More fluid in, I left my gear and headed over to the summit hut. I passed a group of 3 that had come up the main trail, took my picture from the top towards the hut, looked at the register, tried the door ( couldn't open it ), and went back to my gear.
The group had still not come over the edge yet, so I threw the crampons on, grabbed my pack and axes, and headed over to the edge to see what I could see. They were almost up, so I turned to face the hut and made my way over the edge back down the MR. I'd say the last stretch there is 50 degrees or so, I can see why people will take a rappel down from the top. To me, the scarier part is the bottom section. I love the snow ascent/descent, I'll take that all day. Maybe I'm a dope.
Found a seat halfway down
I ended up rapping off a sling for the last 15m to the notch - I wasn't too keen on crampon-downclimbing the rock there.
On my way down the chute, I passed several more people struggling up the tough snow conditions. I think Rick Kent was with a group of dayhikers I passed - at least that's what I think his buddy said down below. I tried not to kick too much snow/ice down on them as I descended, and I was pretty dang tired. It almost seemed harder going down than up. Apparently, one of the ladies in their group was feeling pretty sick, and she was resting at Iceberg. Her friend went down to stay with her and take her back down. As he saw me coming down the chute, he was concerned because I would stop from time to time and just rest. I was fine - my legs were just a little tired ( see: camp at Iceberg next time ) and I was enjoying what little view there was. He thought I might be in bad shape too, so he hurried wayyyy over from his perch to see if I was okay. Really nice guy. We chatted for a bit, and the three of us kinda/sorta made our way down from Iceberg to UBSL and they continued on.
Looking back on the 'ney:
As I walked towards my tent at UBSL, I couldn't wait to drop the gear and take a little nap. I thought " You know what, Adam Burch? The only thing that could make this day sweeter, is if some rodent chewed a hole in your wagbag." We'll guess what...they did. I'd like to know what was going through that guy's mind at the time. How could that possibly seem like a good idea? I handled that issue and dozed off for a bit. I considered packing up the camp and heading down a day earlier - my initial plan had been to climb Mt Russell too the same day, getting back to camp much later, and heading out on Sunday. Considering the iffy weather, and my iffy legs, I decided to head back to camp instead of hanging a left for Russell as I exited the Mountaineers chute. Since I had so much time on my hands, I decided to make use of it. Boots back on, helmet and crampons and axes in hand - I headed down to those beautiful blue ice falls just below UBSL. I didn't have any screws with me, or anyone to belay me for that matter, so I decided just to practice traversing along the base, axe placement, chopping steps to rest my calves, clipping into my axes, downclimbing properly, etc etc. I've got my eye on the V-notch later this year, and these little falls were anywhere from 45 degrees to 60 degrees ( as far as I would go ) towards the bottom, so it was nice practice. I will say, the tech pick on my venom hammer places/pulls out much more easily than the standard pick on my adze. I need to get another tech pick before I do any sustained ice of any angle - the extra work to wiggle it free or swing it home would add up on multiple pitches.
Falls ( pics taken with my cell phone this trip, so quality not the best)
Soooooo, slept through my alarm, got up after 6 am pissed, then realized the late start was a blessing because the sun-softened snow was a much easier descent. Glissaded down to LBSL, slip-slided down from there until the snow stopped in the drainage, and then skipped along the trail down to the ledges.
Looking up at the final section below LBSL
- from melt hi above the southern cliffs
I will say, the E ledges were much scarier on the way down with a full pack. I believe at least one person had died in this area, so I kept that in mind and made sure my feet and hands were placed properly. After a long trip, your tired muscles and mind can really do a number on your coordination, so I took it easy.
The tranquility of the lower NF trail
I still made it down for a tasty breakfast at the store with the Dougs around 930am. It was a perfect end to the trip. The day itself was gorgeous. I passed a lot of people in several stages of preparedness for their hike. Doug's grandson was hand-fishing for trout at the little pond, I had a belly full of hashbrowns and bacon, and the pit-toilets smell so nice in the early season. I headed down the mountain for San Diego, and I realized I had lost my headset so I couldn't use the time to call my family - something that normally helps to pass a long roadtrip. I never listen to the radio, but I figured I'd give it a shot. I instantly remembered why I never listen to the radio. 100.9 the Heat? Is that what it is? Should be 100.9 the Treat - if this is all the poor folks of that area have to listen to ( and it seemed like one of the few stations I could pick up ), I feel for you guys. Or is it like this on all stations, and I'm just in the dark?
First, some song came on that reminded me of when a movie made in the 80's tried to predict how a concert might look in the future... the "2000s", oh my! The way the musicians would dress all strange and their voices would be computerized or modified, etc etc. Enter Lady Gaga.
This is exactly what they were predicting. I'm not sure exactly what she was saying in her song - I could make out "baby" every once in a while, but I knew it made me want to eat my ice axe.
Soooo, following that line of thinking - that goofy music they play in the bar or whatever in Star Wars where Hans shoots first or second or whatever? That's what we have to look forward to. You think it can't get that bad, but it can. They never really though Gaga would be performing that garbage today back in the 70s/80s. Look it up - that's a FACT.
Then! They played that old song, something about a tootsie roll or something. Oh yeah, and it was by those charming wordsmiths: The 69 Boyz? Something like that. Here's a taste.
Cotton candy,sweet and low, let me see your tootsie roll
Here we go, come on, tootsie roll, come on, tootsie roll
Let me see your tootsie roll
Come on, tootsie roll, just dip that tootsie roll and tootsie roll
Here we go tootsie roll
Just I feel a whoop comin up, a whoop comin up,
I just feel a whoop comin up, a whoop comin up,
Whoop, come on, whoop, come on
Whoop, yeah come on come on and,
Whoop whoop whoop, yeah baby
Cotton candy, sweet and low
Let me see that tootsie roll
Now look. You could argue the following:
"Hey Adam, this is really innovative and insightful music. They don't pull any punches with the listener. They prepare you for what's coming up, and they use repetition to make the listener more comfortable. For example, he feels a whoop comin up, and then just a few short seconds later, the promised whoop is delivered - several times over. I like that in a rapper. I also like when they substitute a Z for an S in a title or a group name."
I can't disagree with that logic. How can cotton candy be sweet and low? That's all I'm saying.
But hey, the rest of your TR was insightful, informative and as always, Burcholian. Good job!
I heard there is a pizza waiting for us at the summit :O hahaha