Rumbling Bald

Last Friday around 4:30 in the afternoon me and my friend Ben jumped into his Toyota Corolla with a change of clothes some climbing gear and several bags of delicious beef jerky. Our destination: mountains. After two weeks of miserably hot weather I had decided if I had to spend one more day in Raleigh I was going to forsake clothing altogether in protest. Fortunately for all of us it didn’t have to come to that.

Ben drove recklessly and several times I feared for my life. At one point he blew through a stop light doing 70 in a 35 and a cop was sitting at the light. The cop must have been picking lint out of his belly button, we never saw him again. We did make good time though. We arrived in Black Mountain around 9:00 p.m. and as I breathed the mountain air I knew I was home. Actually I was at Kent McClure’s house, but whatever, I was no longer in Raleigh. Kent’s an old buddy of mine from college who I hadn’t seen in several years; he took us out to get pizza and introduced me to a local mountain brew that was fresh, hoppy and delicious. We went back to Kent’s house and gave each other IV’s to get a jump start on hydration for the coming day. (I also just like pumping fluids straight into the source; if you’ve ever had an IV you know what I’m talking about)

We stopped at the local grocery store the next day. Black Mountain is right next to Asheville, which as everyone knows is the home of hippies. As a sort of “tip-o-the-hat” to the hippies we bought hummus and pita bread; we also bought beef jerky. In case you haven’t noticed I love beef jerky. There are a lot of reasons why I love jerky, here’s just one of them; it’s the manliest food ever. Have you ever seen those stupid psychoanalytical questions “If you were a food what you be?” People actually sit down and think about these things.

“I think I would be a slice of pizza because I’m only achieving a ‘slice’ of the whole I should be.”

“I would be spaghetti because my life’s a mess.”

Alright just stop; if you are a real man the answer is beef jerky. If you’re a man and it’s not beef jerky you are failing. To prove my point I’m going to list some real men and the food associated with them; you may notice a trend.

1. Davy Crockett – Beef Jerky
2. John Muir – Beef Jerky
3. Lumberjacks – Beef Jerky
4. Doc Holliday – Beef Jerky
5. Nick Rowe – Beef Jerky
6. Brett Favre – Beef Jerky
7. Lance Armstrong – Beef Jerky
8. Chuck Norris – Beef Jerky (his jerky is so tough only he can eat it)

Also if you are a man and you don’t know all the names on this list you need to look them up (use wikepedia, it has the answers to everything. After I wrote that I looked up Nick Rowe just to see what it said; I added the part about the obstacle course being named after him).

Anyway where was I; oh yeah so after hitting up the grocery store we headed up to the mountain.

Bald Mountain is so named because its face resembles classic male pattern baldness. I made that up; I have no idea why it’s called bald mountain. At the base of bald mountain and enshrouded by thick forest is a massive boulder field known affectionately to climbers everywhere as Rumbling Bald. Tens of hundreds of solid granite boulders offer limitless possibilities to climbers of all levels. To get there you have to turn onto an unmarked red clay road off an old country road and then hike a little under a mile up unmarked trails. If you’ve never been there before finding it is a bit of a trip. The hike up to the bouldering area was invigorating. Maybe it was the thin mountain air, or maybe I’m just out of shape, but by the time we reached our destination I was breathing heavily. We bouldered for a solid two hours during which time I took no pictures; I don’t know why I didn’t take any pictures, I brought my camera for the express purpose of taking pictures. I deeply regret this.

Anyway so after a couple hours of rigorous climbing and with the temperature steadily rising Ben and I decided to go explore the mountain a bit and see what we could find. We soon found ourselves off the beaten path; off any path really. At some point we decided it would be a really good idea to try to scramble up the side of this mountain. The pitch of the mountain ranged from about 60 to 88 degrees with portions of loose earth dotted with small trees precipitously clinging to the mountainside broken up by areas of bare granite chimneys. As we climbed it dawned on me that if I fell I’d probably die, or at the least sustain very serious injuries with no chance of evacuation to civilization for, well, a long time. I smiled.

We were close to the top of the mountain when on my left I saw this peculiar rock formation that caught my attention. Two rather flat boulders were jutting out from the side of the mountain with a gap between them just big enough for someone to crawl through on all fours. I decided to explore further. I crawled through the gap and came out on an isolated rock ledge that sat about a hundred feet above the nearest soil. My vision was filled with an explosion of color as the majesty of the valley was laid out before me. It was almost spiritual in a sense; one can only appreciate the beauty of the valley from the top of the mountain. A rare glimpse into another world; the one in our own back yard we rarely take the time to appreciate.

On the other side of the valley in the distance I could see Chimney Rock. Chimney Rock is so named because it looks like a chimney shooting up from the side of the mountain; it’s probably about two or three hundred feet tall. It’s also a tourist attraction. For about twenty dollars you can drive your car up to the base of the chimney and stand in line for an elevator that will take you to the top. You’ll probably stand in line with at least one mullet and one unfortunate attempt to squeeze a 37 year old body into a 21 year olds bikini. At the top there is a nineteen year old home after his first year at college telling you not to lean over the railing which is bolted into the rock a good five feet from the edge. Next to you an old couple recounts the history of how they built this monstrous tourist attraction. You casually listen in on this conversation for a few moments when it dawns on you that you don’t care and you’ll never get that minute back. You smell smoke and turn around to discover the mullet has chosen to enjoy this view through some good ol’ North Carolina tobacco and it is at this point you realize you were duped into thinking this was some form of trek into the great outdoors because you never left civilization.

I sat down with my legs dangling over the edge of my cliff; my way of shaking my fist at those responsible for desecrating chimney rock. I’d like to think me and Ben were the only human beings ever to set foot on that rock. At the least we were members of a very select group of people who like me disdained the idea of chimney rock and who love beef jerky.

Earlier I said I thought it would be a good idea to scramble up the mountain; it was actually a great idea, although looking back we could have easily died if one of those trees had lost the battle with gravity or the loose soil given out beneath our feet. Of course my heart could spontaneously fibrillate and I could die sitting in my chair. Death comes to us all at some point, why worry about when that day might be. I once read this book called the Alchemist; in it these two guys are talking and one of them expresses anxiety about dying. The other guy asks why and then says, “today is as good a day to die as any other day.”

some climbing ventures

This is what I do to relax during the week and weekends




V3+


V4



5.11 (I later finished this route)

A Rant of Insignificance

I'm a very avid reader. I generally have several books going at any given time with at least ten more on my shelf waiting their turn. I've found I have to be very selective in what I choose to read as there are a million books out there and only so many hours in my busy day. So I spend a lot of time at the bookstore looking over books; generally I'll read what the critics have written about the author, which are always positive (It would seem to be conterproductive for a publisher to print negative reviews, ie. "Upon completion of this book I set it on fire and then cast the ashes into the sea so no other poor soul might suffer needlessly." I think I would make a very good critic.) I"ve noticed a trend in critiques recently that I find to be disturbing; unpleasant at best. You've probably read an example of what I'm referring to, and perhaps it didn't register immediately. Later that day you probably lost your appetite and had no idea why.

Here's an example of what I'm referring to: "If you crossed Moby Dick and the Wizard of Oz with Paul Auster and Haruki Murakami you might get something like Hall's debut."
This has the makings of a biological experiment gone horribly wrong. The first felony committed here is the use of the word "cross." The critic suggests that we imagine crossing Moby Dick, STOP! I do not want to imagine crossing Moby Dick with anything or anybody, especially the wizard of Oz whom I still have a very fond recollection of from my childhood. If I was Paul or Haruki I would be irate at having my name maligned in such a way.

There are a limited number of things you should cross:
Horse and donkey = mule
Lion and tiger = Liger, which according to pop culture is bred for its skills in magic
Bull Dog and Shitzu = mut
Peanut butter and chocolate = delicious

Things you don't cross
Chihauhuas and anything = the world would be a better place without these oversized rats
Mullet and Mohawk = Mulhawk; a disgrace to both hairstyles
Paul and Haruki = ? (I hope we never find out)

I take offense at these suggestions that we should breed some sort of super author, and I'm pretty sure it's illegal to try it. (Except in China and maybe Sri Lanka.)

The second felony committed is the use of the word "might." Why are you even making the comparison if you only have a vague notion if your proposed unholy alliance will produce a product similar to what has already been written. A plane "might" fall out of the sky and land on my head. If you tell a funny joke while I'm drinking milk it "might" come out my nose. The cubs "might" win the world series this year.

I've read numerous examples of this type of critique so I can only assume the authors read somebody else's critique and thought it was a good idea; it's not.

So I got to attend the Master's golf tournament again this year. I feel pretty fortunate to have had the opportunity two years in a row. I watched the worlds best golfers duke it out on the links. I saw the beginning of Phil Mickelson's meltdown. I smoked a couple of very excellent cigars with some gentlemen I can only assume make more in a week than I'll make all year.

While I was there a kid walked up to me and asked me for my autograph. I should have just said sure and signed his hat. Instead I said;
"Why do you want my autograph?"
"Aren't you Martine Grammatica?"
"Uh no."
"Oh man you look just like him."

Grammatica is a field goal kicker in the NFL. I looked up some pictures of him, I vaguely saw a resemblance. Which is just as well. When I come to the end of my life the fact that I vaguely resembled somebody moderately famous probably won't be on my list of major accomplishments.

In Which a Notable Plan Is Acted On and a Homeless Man Gets the Beef

Last Wednesday I found myself leaning out the window of an SUV yelling to a homeless man who was walking down the street. How often does that happen? I would venture to say not very, and in my case it was a first, and it all started in church.

For the last several weeks our pastor has been preaching this series he calls revolutionary love. I missed most of the Sundays, and the one Sunday I did catch was made up predominately of people’s testimonies of how they had gone out and shown “revolutionary love.” It’s a very simple concept. The church had all these cards made up that said something like, “you have just been shown revolutionary love, a no strings attached act of kindness,” Jesus was mentioned in there somewhere and I think our church name was on it somewhere. The point being you just did something nice to some random person and then you give them a card and walk away. Our Wednesday night group leader was, of course, very excited about the concept; so we dedicated an entire evening to the endeavor.

“I am going to be going to some of the shadier restaurants in town and asking the managers if I can clean their bathrooms; and anybody who wants to join me you’re more than welcome.” That was our leader. He was really gung-ho. I think some people did help him; I certainly wasn’t one of them. Me and three friends of mine piled into one of their SUV’s and took off for Food Lion with a vague plan involving cookies and Gatorade.

We split up the purchases; I bought the eight pack of Gatorade, Melissa, Steve and Abbie all bought boxes of those fresh baked cookies. As we were standing in line Abbie had a sudden stroke of inspiration.

“I got an idear,” she has a heavy southern accent, “I’m goin back there and puttin’ five dollar on one of them milk cartons and leave a card.”

Melissa echoed her excitement, “yeah let’s go.”

“I think I’ll leave it on soy milk cause I like that best.”

Steve and I just stood there somewhat bewildered.

We made our purchases, the girls came running out a minute later and we made our way to Fort Bragg. (It is at this point I should point out that the driver of this caravan was Melissa who, by no fault of her gender, was a terrible driver. I had been in the car maybe five seconds before I found myself gripping the side door so hard I am quite positive I left permanent fingerprints in the plastic)

Fort Bragg is one of the larger military bases in the US. Consequently there are numerous gates providing access to the base and these gates have to be manned 24/7. Our idea was to go in and out of four the gates and give cookies and Gatorades to the guards who stay out there all night along. It seemed like a really good idea at the time, but driving up to the gate I began to ponder.

“Hey is it legal for them to take gifts from people?” I looked at Steve

Steve just shrugged his shoulders.

Melissa provided the voice of logic. “We’re going to give them the cookies and their going to take them and that’s that.”

I couldn’t argue with her logic.

We slowly pulled up to the gate and handed the guard our ID’s. Melissa had opted to talk first.

“Sir we’re from Mana Church and we know ya’ll get bored and hungry out here so we brought you some cookies and some Gatorade.”

I crossed my fingers.

The guard looked at the cookies and the Gatorade and his eyes lit up.

“Well thank you.” He said with a smile

I handed him a couple extra Gatorades, “You can give these to the other guys.” The man smiled again and thanked us; I could tell we made his night. It wasn’t until we pulled away that I realized my heart was pounding. Strange that a simple act of kindness could get me riled up like that. We received similar reactions at all four gates, and with each one our confidence rose. That was the extent of our plans, but there wasn’t a one of us who was ready to call it a night (plus we still had some cards left).

It was Steve who came up with the idea, “Hey you know that homeless guy who panhandles the corner of Skibo and Cliffdale, let’ go give him some food.”

“Yeah”, we all chimed in, “What should we get him?”

“Let’s drive up and ask him what he wants.” We all agreed that this was an excellent idea. Melissa pulled what amounted to a J turn causing me to once again leave prints in the plastic molding and we sped off for the intersection.

“I hope he’s there.” Melissa said as we neared the intersection. The tone of her voice suggested that if he wasn’t there she might start crying, and I thought to myself that this was a really good night.

“There he is.” I pointed to the lonely figure at the intersection holding the cardboard sign. He was pretty standard bum; deep tan on his face and hands mixed with dirt, long scraggly hair and beard. He wore an Army jacket and I’m sure if you asked him he’d tell you he spent time in the Army, Air Force, Coast Guard, Marine Corps, Peace Corps and the Society for the Consumption of Steak; whatever it takes to get some money or some food. As we neared Steve stuck his head out the back window,

“Hey man you hungry?”

“Yeah man I’m starving you got some food?”

“No but we’ll go get you something, what do you want?”

“I’ll take a hamburger if you can get one.” He sounded sarcastic, I was a little surprised.

“Alright we’ll be back.” And we drove off. I commented first.

“He sounded like he didn’t believe us.”

“Yeah I think they get that a lot,” Steve said, “I know some guys who would ask them what they wanted and then drive by later with the burger and laugh at them.”

“That’s just terrible.” Abbie said in her deep southern accent.

We drove to McDonald’s and I ordered the Big Mac Super Heart clogging meal for the bum and a grilled chicken sandwich for myself (It was delicious). Abbie decided she wanted to get him a gift card so he could come back whenever. With our food in tow we drove back to the intersection only to find the bum had left. Melissa and Abbie were noticeably upset.

“He didn’t believe us.” Melissa said, “He thinks we were making fun of him.” I could tell she might lose it soon.

“Well just drive down the road here maybe we can find him.” I said. And sure enough about a quarter mile down the road we found him. Melissa swung the car into the median, threw on her blinkers and yelled,

“Hey, Hey!” I tried to hide my face as the traffic was passing. “We didn’t forget, we came back, we’ve got your burger.” She held it out the window

The guy looked at us quizzically for a few moments; then ran across the street toward us.

He came up grabbed the bag and said,

“You guys are the first ones who have ever come back, no one else has ever done this for me, thank you.”

Abbie held the card out the back window, “We got you a gift card too so you can go back, we’re from Mana Church we hope you have a good night.” The man thanked us several more times and then walked off holding the bag with both hands. As we drove off we were all feeling pretty good, and then Melissa gasped,

“We forgot to give him his soda!” She whipped the vehicle around so hard for a second I thought we were on two wheels. I leaned out the window holding the soda.

“Hey, Hey dude! We forgot to give you your soda.” The guy ran up with a smile took the soda thanked us again and then walked off. I wonder if we made any difference in his life; maybe for a moment. Tomorrow he’ll be back on the corner. I wondered why people like that don’t get help, get a job, do something. It is America. A few days later we were studying behavioral disorders in class and our instructor made a comment that somewhere around 80 percent of all panhandlers suffer from some form of mental disorder. Somebody asked the instructor why they don’t make these guys get help.

“America is a free country. You can’t force somebody to get help if they don’t want it. And they don’t. You can bring them in clean them up give them a shower, but tomorrow they’ll go right back to the street.”

Sad? Yeah, but what can you do.

Chally Christmas Part 2

As they smoked it began to snow.



“I’ve got it!” said Mike.



“Snow is full of holiday cheer.” He ran out into the snow and started catching snowflakes on his tongue. Everyone joined him.







“If you catch them higher in the air you get more holiday cheer” said Ali. Everyone began jumping in the air as high as they could.









(Dad didn’t get very much holiday cheer)
“I feel much better.” Said James
“Maybe we should pose for an album cover” said Annie.




“There’s chocolate cake inside” said Mom.
Everyone went inside only to discover someone had rigged the chocolate cake with explosives and lit the fuses.



Several tense moments ensued until Ali blew out the fuses thereby rescuing the chocolate cake from certain doom.

And so peace and happiness returned to the Chally family that Christmas. And everyone lived happily ever after, (except for the chocolate cake which took up permanent residence in several new fat rolls.)

Chally Christmas Part 1

Many people would try to claim the following story as purely fictitious, which is why I have provided pictorial evidence to prove that the following events did indeed occur as they are written.


Once upon a time the Chally family all sat down for a nice Christmas dinner.

It was the greatest Christmas feast any of them had ever seen. There was Turkey and Duck, Cabbage and Kiefla and butter with broccoli mixed in.


But the centerpiece of the entire feast was a magic jello that would turn you into an elf.















Grandma ate half the bowl.







After dinner James turned to Dad
“Father, could you pass me the egg nog?”
“My son, why ever would you request such a thing?” (he only said this because he had secretly drank all the egg nog.)
“Because father it contains 100% of my daily dose of holiday cheer.”
“Well we’re all out.”
“What?!” James said
“Did you drink all the egg nog?” Ali asked dad
“ummmh…yes.”
Everyone stared at dad with incredulity.















Joe tore off all his clothes and went into mourning. (We didn’t see him again for many days.)









Dad had a sappy look on his face that said “what?”





“If I don’t get any holiday cheer I fear I may start to throw things.” James said.
Mom spoke up, “Maybe we can find some holiday cheer by opening presents.” Everyone agreed that this was a very good idea. There were many presents under the tree in many colors. Many people got very nice things,











All James received was a pair of rusty hedge clippers.





“This doesn’t fill me with very much holiday cheer” James said.
And with that he ran outside and began throwing Christmas trees.

Pete and Mike ran outside and tried to calm James down.
“James no, you don’t throw Christmas trees” Pete said, “you decorate them with ceramic figurines of popular movie and television characters sold at rediculously inflated prices .”

James was not amused, so Mike spoke up.
“No you balance them on your chin”

This made James even angrier and he resumed his tirade.

Finally Mike convinced James to calm down and contemplate Christmas over some fine tobacco products.

After they had finished the cigars James said, “I didn’t come up with any answers.”

“I didn’t either” Mike said.
“Maybe we should smoke some more.”
“I agree.”