http://www.climbing.com/exclusive/readerblogs/bruce_willey/ When he was but two and a half, Bruce Willey ran away from home, walking seven crow miles only to spend the night in the hills above San Bernardino with his dog. This may be where the oft quoted “raised by coyotes” mythology originates, but still does a lot to explain his life since. Armed with a tape recorder, camera, and a shovel, Bruce Willey is now a freelance writer of somewhat semi-wide acclaim. en-us http://www.climbing.com/exclusive/readerblogs/bruce_willey/ http://www.climbing.com/exclusive/readerblogs/bruce-willey-bio-sq.jpg Up and Down amid Brobdingnagian Stones - Two fools rediscover the Aiguille du Fou, Smoke Blanchard’s lost route in the High Sierra - I had just climbed to one of those belays where living feels beautiful and life is sweet. Tying off a horn I call down “off-belay” to Greg with a certain amount of relief. Time, then, to fondle the view from 200 feet of the arête and wait for him to pull through the cruxes made apparent by the slow progress of the rope. http://www.climbing.com/exclusive/readerblogs/bruce_willey/bruce_willey_-_reader_blog_7 bruce_willey Thu, 17 Sep 2009 11:01:00 EST http://www.climbing.com/exclusive/readerblogs/bruce_willey/Aiguille-du-Fou10-sq.jpg Bruce Willey - Reader Blog 7 9/17/09 - <b>Two fools rediscover the Aiguille du Fou, Smoke Blanchard&rsquo;s lost route in the High Sierra</b> - I had just climbed to one of those belays where living feels beautiful and life is sweet. Tying off a horn I call down &ldquo;off-belay&rdquo; to Greg with a certain amount of relief. Time, then, to fondle the view from 200 feet of the ar&ecirc;te and wait for him to pull through the cruxes made apparent by the slow progress of the rope. 7/15/09 - To be frank, I thought about starting this story with an epic. Some hanging on the thin edge thing: frozen fingers grasping for a nub, a hair-raiser of a lightning storm scrubbing the inside of your helmet, being skinned alive by a fall on run-out slab. It sells magazines and stokes campfires, not to mention touches the void that is ego. http://www.climbing.com/exclusive/readerblogs/bruce_willey/bruce_willey_-_reader_blog_6 bruce_willey Wed, 15 Jul 2009 06:36:00 EST http://www.climbing.com/exclusive/readerblogs/bruce_willey/hwy-395-2-sq.jpg Bruce Willey - Reader Blog 6 7/15/09 - <b>The Eastside Lowdown: Front Country Cragging under the shadow of the High Sierra Crest</b> - To be frank, I thought about starting this story with an epic. Some hanging on the thin edge thing: frozen fingers grasping for a nub, a hair-raiser of a lightning storm scrubbing the inside of your helmet, being skinned alive by a fall on run-out slab. It sells magazines and stokes campfires, not to mention touches the void that is ego. 6/26/09 - Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost: In search of the perfect climbing dog - Give or take 15,000 years ago a feral dog decided to hell with hunting all day. Why not instead hang around groups of semi-sophisticated apes who use hunting clubs and flint arrows? In return for helping with a few chores such as locating their food and a few well-placed barks at the lions creeping around camp, the dogs could pick up a few meat scraps and leftover bones, not to mention far more time for long naps. The symbiosis worked all too well. http://www.climbing.com/exclusive/readerblogs/bruce_willey/bruce_willey_-_reader_blog_5 bruce_willey Fri, 26 Jun 2009 14:17:00 EST http://www.climbing.com/exclusive/readerblogs/bruce_willey/Birkie-buttermilk-sq.jpg Bruce Willey - Reader Blog 5 6/26/09 - <b>Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost: In search of the perfect climbing dog</b> - Give or take 15,000 years ago a feral dog decided to hell with hunting all day. Why not instead hang around groups of semi-sophisticated apes who use hunting clubs and flint arrows? In return for helping with a few chores such as locating their food and a few well-placed barks at the lions creeping around camp, the dogs could pick up a few meat scraps and leftover bones, not to mention far more time for long naps. The symbiosis worked all too well. 5/07/09 - This being Easter Sunday our water bottles would no sooner turn into wine flasks than we would chance upon the devout. All those good folks are up-river, filling the white little Baptist churches bursting at their holy holler seams. He may have risen, but our Easter services begin and end on the sandstone sermons writ large on the wall, rising under our own effort with the miracle of cams to save our souls. http://www.climbing.com/exclusive/readerblogs/bruce_willey/bruce_willey_-_reader_blog_4 bruce_willey Thu, 07 May 2009 14:17:00 EST http://www.climbing.com/exclusive/readerblogs/bruce_willey/emily7-1-sq.jpg Bruce Willey - Reader Blog 4 5/07/09 - <b>Suffer the Lizards: Losing Our Religion to Southern Splitters</b> - This being Easter Sunday our water bottles would no sooner turn into wine flasks than we would chance upon the devout. All those good folks are up-river, filling the white little Baptist churches bursting at their holy holler seams. He may have risen, but our Easter services begin and end on the sandstone sermons writ large on the wall, rising under our own effort with the miracle of cams to save our souls. 3/26/09 - What Happens in Vegas Stays in the Atmosphere - If you compare climbing to other sports as Ernest Hemmingway famously did, one is forced to draw a few conclusions. Obviously climbing is a lot more eco-friendly than auto racing and bull fighting. We don’t go billowing around a track, needlessly spewing oil and fumes. We don’t stab hapless angry cows with sharp sticks. http://www.climbing.com/exclusive/readerblogs/bruce_willey/bruce_willey_-_reader_blog_3 bruce_willey Thu, 26 Mar 2009 10:35:00 EST http://www.climbing.com/exclusive/readerblogs/bruce_willey/doug-robinson-sq.jpg Bruce Willey - Reader Blog 3 3/26/09 - <b>What Happens in Vegas Stays in the Atmosphere</b> - If you compare climbing to other sports as Ernest Hemmingway famously did, one is forced to draw a few conclusions. Obviously climbing is a lot more eco-friendly than auto racing and bull fighting. We don’t go billowing around a track, needlessly spewing oil and fumes. We don’t stab hapless angry cows with sharp sticks.