Jim. Well, we never really called him The Crack God, but I for one was pretty impressed with what he could do. Let me tell you a few tales...
I was with Pat when we took Jim to a route first established by visiting climbers Jay Smith and Jo Bentley, named Kiss of the Spiderwoman. The route wasn't that old at the time, and it follows a shallow dihedral for some eighty feet, climbing out of a narrow side-gulley of Fremont Canyon. A few weeks prior, I had followed Pat on the route, which I believe was the first time that he'd been on it. Anyhow, Jim was visiting Casper from where ever it was he'd moved to, and Pat was escorting him on some of the better, newer routes. I was along because I was lucky enough to be there...
When we arrived at the base of the climb, Pat and I catalogued the gear necessary for the route. Jim obliged our suggestions, until he wore so much gear that he could hardly move. Still, he made the initial thin face moves without a single grunt or whimper, clipping the lone bolt, and moving fluidly into the dihedral. Pat and I waited for Jim to pause and place a few well-warranted pieces, but he never stopped. Jim just kept on rolling. Oh, sure, he put in a cam every ten or fifteen feet, but Jim has a certain gift for momentum. I stood next to Pat, who had quit offering up suggestions and just started smiling at his friend. I had never seen anybody move so quickly. He was off belay in a flash and we had joined him at the top in no time at all.
Last summer, Jim had a rough go on the trip I had put together for the Tetons. He didn't have a physical injury. That was somebody else's problem. What he had was a ranger's hat full of blame over the entire sordid turn of events on our climbing trip. This is apparently because he should have commandeered the whole misadventure, citing (you would never hear him say anything like this... before this Moran trip, anyway. I don't expect he'll ever put himself in that sort of place again, albeit incidentally. Instead, he'll avoid such groupings as what evolved in July of 2000) his two dozen Grade IV climbs of experience, as one ranger apparently expected him to do. What he did, on the mt Moran climb I will forever refer to, was to educate and to mentor at first two, then by default countless others, including the rescue operation which opted to evacuate our injured climber. Jim took a big hit, and he deserves an apology, all around.
After the rock & snowfall rained down on us, he offered to take all the retreating members of our group down to our camp, even though I should have gone down as well, to say the least.
This is one of my personal regrets of the entire affair.
Jim Cunningham is exemplary of the very concept of "mountaineer," through and through.
Now, that's not all...
He could climb ice in the same fashion. Never stopped to wipe the sweat from his brow (what sweat?!), he never paused any longer than it took to get a solid swing, or atleast the best that could be had.
In 1992, when he was living in Sheridan, I went up to visit him, we spent a day top-roping the rough limestone at the Fallen City, followed by a day at Tongue River Canyon, also rough limestone climbing. I took a surprising fall high on one route, compounded slightly by the failure of one of my tiny camming devices. All Jim could do was laugh at me because I'd been silly enough to trust "a piece of aid gear" on a free climb. Falling. All in a day's education.
And as for aid climbing, Jim was just as impressive. Pat sang praises for the intricate pin stacks Jim placed while they attempted The Window route on Devil's Tower. A serious route, first completed by Royal Robbins et al, they had to retreat from the crux roof at 300 feet.
However, the best story I have to tell about Jim occured in 1994, during a trip to the state of Washington. He and I wound up on the fantastic Snow Creek Wall, climbing Outer Space, with its clean, 300-foot vertical hand crack that starts after one has already climbed about 400 feet of varied ground. He'd told me we wouldn't need headlamps: we did. He'd told my wife that we'd be back in time for her friend's wedding rehearsal dinner: we weren't. But we pulled off the climb. I've never since lead a 150-foot handcrack with only four pieces of protection, (we simply didn't have enough gear to place more than that). We topped out in twilight and started down, back into Icicle Creek Canyon, feeling our way down in the dark. When we got back to the car, he opened the trunk, threw his jacket inside and shut the trunk lid. When he got in the car to start it, at Midnight, he exploded, spewing profanities.
"The keys are in my jacket!!" he thundered. I looked at him and shook my head in silence.
Boy, was I in trouble.
When my wife reported me missing to the sheriff's office, they told her I was probably just out somewhere drinking. When I called her from a payphone in Leavenworth, after walking and hitchhiking for three hours, she was livid, and picked me up back at Jim's car.
The locksmith I'd also phoned was there too. It was one of those times when you just don't say anything to the other guy's wife. Still, in a few months, after our son was born, all was forgiven.
(whew...)
Oh Look... I mean
Here's a short letter from the Crack God himself...
"You forgot to mention the picture with Everest in the background was taken after Barb and I put up a new 164 pitch grade XXV 5.13d A4 M8 V9 route on the 10,000-foot overhung NW face of K2. After six weeks without food or water, we summitted in a 65 below zero degree day with 100 mile per hour wind. Since all our gear was swept away in an avalanche (started by a Japanese tourist bus) we had to open our coats and do a "flying squirrel" decent to base camp just in time to perform an emergency tonsillectomy on a 200 year old monk. We are presently looking for sponsorship to new routes on Jupiter.
I'll be in Boulder the week before the 4th of July, which means I could stick around a few days and goof off in the hills or on the crag. You want to make a date?
Jim"
Here's to you, Jim. My kids still have your penguin. Wisht I could go where you go once in a while...
Maybe one of these days...
Previous Profile