Joe Gold was a cantankerous old man. Even when he was young. I knew him for 25 years and I swear he looked the same age the whole time. When he opened World Gym in Santa Monica it was to be an austere place, 180 degrees from the zoo Gold's Gym was turning into about a mile south in Venice. In any community only a few do the really crucial work, and I suppose Joe reckoned such work couldn't be accomplished amid such things as music, heat in the winter, and lights during the day. Besides, Arnold trained at World and, at the time, Arnold was the greatest Mr. Olympia that ever lived. He was also getting ready to do Conan which put a bit of a damper on his usual jovial self. So, whether it was because of Arnold, or the austere vibe in the absence of heat, lights and music, or because Joe was suffering from serious back pain and always in a bad mood, you basically didn't train at World to have fun. Many of us had memberships at both World and Gold's and would migrate between the two gyms as our tolerance for one or the other ran out.
Gold's was a more likely place for me to run across John Long. He had a mischievous sense of humor and was always up for a practical joke, but had a serious side that hardened his face with furrows down the sides of his mouth like a cigar store Indian. On the day I met him, he looked right at home at World. He was standing under the chinning bar looking up at the contraption he had just fabricated from five feet of six millimeter braded static line and a couple of carabineers. The biners were hooked onto the bar and the cord passed though them and looped around each one with a clove hitch that left a loop dangling that he could get his finger through. Satisfied with his rigging, Long set out doing one arm pull-ups with one finger. He'd hook a finger through one of the loops, hang with his arm out stretched, then pull himself up. At the top, he'd hook a finger on his opposite hand through the other loop, let go of the first one, and lower himself down. Then he'd pull himself up, switch fingers, and repeat the process. After he had ground out about four reps on each side he let go, dropped down to the floor, put his hands on his hips and looked over at me staring at him.
"What the fuck are you doing?" I asked.
A bead of sweat was dangling off the end of his nose. He shook it off and said, "Pull ups, what the fuck does it look like I'm doing?"
Now, I'd seen a bit of the world by then and I'd never seen anyone doing anything like that.
"Beats the shit out of me," I said. "Normally, when someone sets out to do pull-ups they just grab the bar.
Does Joe know you're modifying his equipment? He's pretty touchy you know."
He laughed. "Yeah, he is." He reached up and unclipped one carabineer and then the other. "I'm getting ready for a trip... rock climbing." He extended his hand, "Name's John Long."
John Long. It turns out John Long was not just some guy in the gym and he wasn't just a rock climber hanging from a loop of rope off a chinning bar. He was THE rock climber. Five years earlier he, along with Jim Bridwell and Billy Westbay made the first one day ascent of the 3,000 foot nose rout of El Capitan in Yosemite valley; typically a four to five day climb. Long's climbing history included the first free ascents of some of the most daring and difficult rocks in the northern Hemisphere and he went on to author more than 15 books on the subject. Long was to rock climbing what Arnold was to bodybuilding, maybe more so. Long was also in the adventure business and had just returned from an expedition traversing Borneo from coast to coast - on foot. Such exploits got the attention of certain TV executives which then had Long doing documentaries for National Geographic and episodes of That's Incredible, a popular 80s TV show. "I'm putting together a little trip to do some climbing and shoot it for TV," he said. "I need some support crew to come along, you want to go?"
"I can't do one finger pull-ups."
"You don't have to. You won't be climbing, we're rappelling."
I thought about it for a second or two and said, "Yeah, sure. I'll go. Where are we going?"
"Venezuela."
"Venezuela?!!... as in South America?
Long laughed at me. "Yes, that Venezuela."
Six weeks later, my new friend John Long, me, and five other guys climbed out of a rickety, war surplus, helicopter in the steaming jungle of the Canaima National Park in the Bolivar state of Venezuela. Rising 3,212 feet above us was Angel Falls. With a 2,647 foot, unobstructed, plunge, Angel Falls is the tallest water fall in the world, and Long was there to set a world record by rappelling down it...
Stay tuned for part II.... It gets interesting
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