JPFreek - Index

JPFreek - magazine - Index

Gear Review
SUMMER 2008
44
I used to have one of those old white opaque Nalgene bottles
with the wide mouth blue lid. Remember those things? I must
have purchased it in 1998 or 1999 while attending Arizona State
University, and each day I’d carry it around with me from class to
class. Over the years, it would slake my thirst in Yosemite, Joshua
Tree, Zion, Bryce, as well as numerous local climbing crags,
hiking trails, and Jeep runs. My early gear addiction may have
left me broke most of the time, or in a constant state of saving,
but there was one thing I always had: equipment stickers. The
bottle became the home for most of them.
Like most things we all own and spend time with, that Nalgene
matured into a small extension of me; a little personality
complete with scars and scrapes. During one particularly
memorable climbing trip with a few friends, we’d been harassing
each other about the Nalgene legend: were these bottles really
unbreakable?
So what the hell, I declared that I’d put my old drinking buddy
to the test by tossing him down a cliff, ¾-full of water.
My lovable and dedicated climbing partner, Gretchen - and in
all her robust fire for the newest and coolest gear – let me have
it, “Are you stupid, Mark? Those bottles are like eight bucks, just
give it to me if you’re going to throw it.”
“Sorry, Gretch, we’ve got to find out. I’d rather be stupid and
find out for myself.”
Despite her objections to the experiment, we set a four-point
anchor using two stoppers, a #3 Camalot, and a wrapped
boulder. Then I clipped in, leaned over the edge, took a last sip
from the bottle-soon-to-be-a-plastic-patty, and looked at
Gretchen and (my not-yet wife) Brooke who were both laughing.
“C’mon, you two want a sip? It may be the last time it’s
possible.”
TJ Project Part II:
Water, Shade, and
A Story about Good Gear
Mark Stephens has been down for the count since
becoming a father last summer. Living a life
virtually devoid of significant outdoor adventures
for a year, he reminisces about one of his favorite
pieces of equipment.
Text and photos by Mark Stephens,
Contributing Editor
They accepted, drank, and let a little drizzle down their tanned
chins.
“I can’t believe you’re going to do this. How high is the cliff?”
They asked.
“Maybe 100 feet. Ready?”
“Sure.” Gretchen shrugged, Brooke beamed.
With that, I held out my arm, looked down the rock face to the
bottom, aimed for a flat, open space next to an old dead oak
tree, and then with a final breath I released the Nalgene to the
Big Unknown.
We waited in silence for
One . . .
Two . . .
Three seconds, and then THUUUUD!
The impact echoed throughout the canyon, and the bottle
ricocheted three or four times among the boulders and that oak
tree before coming to a rest in the thick of a sage bush.
I couldn’t contain myself and laughed, “It stopped! Let’s get
down there.”
Down we rappelled to inspect the bottle.