Jesse and I were discussing what would happen if somehow, mid-rock climb, the rope snapped. While this would never happen to a mindful rock climber (because wear on rope is very obvious), we were trying to figure out how quickly the belayer would be able to react and whether or not they could catch or slow the descent of the falling climber.
I commented on how I thought there would certainly be a chance of death for the person trying to save his falling comrade.
mike d: “Especially if I tried to save someone like Joel. I think if he landed on top of me, his weight could easily crush my chest.”
jesse: “I don’t know, I think the chance of survival for the climber would drop significantly, with very little chance of the belayer dying.”
mike d: “it would be easy enough to figure out.”
jesse: “true. we know the mass, the acceleration, and the height… though I don’t know the strength of bone.”
mike d: “well, if it came out to be some ridiculous amount of force…”
AND THEN! SIMULTANEOUSLY…
mike d: “like 12,000 pounds of force.” Jesse: “like 6 tons of force.”
6 TONS = 12,000 Lbs
Weird that we would both choose the same arbitrary “ridiculous amount of force.”
I’ve come up with two possible explanations.
1. Jesse and I have a strange roommate bond that results in us thinking alike… though in different units.
2. a ridiculous amount of force is just about equal to 6 tons.