Another visit to memories of August in the Needles of the Black Hills of South Dakota.
It wasn't just for the climbing. Oreville Campground between Custer and Hill City was the scene of many volley ball games. We had group potluck dinners with wild raspberry sundaes for desert to celebrate the many August birthdays.
The Dog Races in Rapid City were a draw. Can't forget the stentorian voice of the tout always posted at the entrance or the time we had to bet on a dog named ...TM's Jewel. We didn't see him go by with the pack. As we turned away he labored by, lengths behind.
Bob and I had taken golf lessons from a fabulous pro in Florida on a sabbatical. The pro we tried for a tune up when got home was a dud. Both of our games deteriorated. It was on the Custer golf course that we realized we were not having fun, quit in the middle of a round, and never played again.
Somewhere in the Needles of the Black Hills. For years this was our destination in early August. We met climbing friends there from both Coasts and in between, like Wisconsin, Wyoming, Colorado, Kansas and Iowa.
One year, as we were about to leave, I had a profound sense of loss, that this wouldn't continue. It didn't. Later when we made rare stops, Bob had trouble getting on a climb. That gray hair scared away potential partners.
Over Christmas Vacation 1959-1960 TM Herbert, Yvon Chouinard, Dave Rearick and Bob made a desert road trip. The first ascent of Oak Creek Spire was the high point. Their ascent of Shiprock didn't go as planned. They didn't end up on the main summit. The first photo is of TM leading. The second is of Dave on belay. I think he still had that parka the last time I went hiking with him a few years ago. The third is a journal entry long after the fact. open and read it for more info.
That trip was an epic and I am bummed that none of them recorded the events. I would tell my secondhand account but Facebook users look for the photos and skip the narrataives.
On my personal page the photo of Bob in long pants prompted comments about never seeing Bob in anything but cutoffs.
I present to you Deacon Robert.
Bob and I were on the same page on most things, but not about his wardrobe. ...
A sudden cold snap prompted him to wear a wrinkled cherry red windbreaker to our niece Lorraine’s Wisconsin wedding. I was so embarrassed that when our nephew Dave’s nuptials approached I refused to book the trip to Minnesota for fear of a repeat performance. There is no doubt about how fond he was of Dave and his bride to be, Audrey. He acquired a suit from one of his ‘junk’ friends who had purchased the contents of a failed men’s’ store and promptly recycled it afterwards.
This is a spinoff from last week’s post of Black Hills Needles climbers. In their shares of it Mara Ferbel Goldstone and Richard Goldstone reminded me that our tent, a Three Man Draw-tite, had a tendency to fly. Mara remembered rescuing it as it took off like a tumbleweed interrupting a Scrabble game in the Black Hills. Bob and I chased it as it cartwheeled down a mountain slope when we were camping in the east, probably Seneca.
In this photo, we had camped in Black Velvet Canyon on a very windy night. The corners of the tent kept lifting up and slapping down so hard that sleep was impossible. We collapsed it around us. Our friends, Herb and Eve Laeger, were delighted to record our plight when they emerged from their stable truck based camper the next morning.