Monthly Archives: February 2012

Live Your Life

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I spent this weekend around a conference table in second meeting with the NLC.  It was certainly worthwhile, but the long days of discussion leave me mentally drained.  Saturday after the conference I didn’t have plans but eventually found myself high above the city walking over Waterworks Hill.  I had invited friends to join me but ended up walking alone. It didn’t bother me though, I enjoyed the quiet space to reflect.

I’ve spent more time doing things on my own lately- I think in the mood of moving to Missoula I was eager to make friends again and put myself in a hyper social situation.  Having been here a while now, and slowed down a bit, I’ve found myself thinking of what my life was like one year ago (at the beginning of this blog), and realizing that one of the goals in leaving Portland was not to “settle down”.  I miss the travel, the adventure of being on the road, and the many fun times with people, but the fact is that being in the same place has no impact on how independently I am able to embrace the adventure of life.  I’ve been thinking of my travels often recently, missing them yes, but also drawing strength from what they taught me.  I was fortunately to share experiences with many other wonderful people, but I choose the experiences and destinations based on my own intuition and principle.

It’s easy, with the rhythm of more familiar places, more regular routines, more regular people, to think that the rhythm can determine how I should spend my time.  I have no less responsibility to choose just as deliberately now.

Live your life.
Reject the notion that the rhythm will determine what you should do.
Refuse to be a victim of circumstance.
Make a deliberate choice for your actions that resonates with your own core values rather than to anyone else’s expectations.

Sometimes the adventure is deciding what to do when you find yourself in a familiar place.

“We are what we repeatedly do.” (MFT)  If you want to your life to reflect the journey you want, then treat every moment as the next step along the way.

One Mile

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One vertical mile… is a good measure for how much terrain I can comfortably cover in a day on my backcountry ski setup.  Skied Little St. Josephs from the parking lot to the knob today with Gwen.  We encountered every type of snow possible- ice, mush, waist deep unbelievably gorgeous powder, breakable crust, hardpack, corn.  I’m tired, and no it wasn’t a day full of face shots, but I’m not complaining.

Smiling at our first views of what we would be skiing.

A little blurry, but the wind on top was going to knock me off my feet.

Happy to be back from the summit, and ready for some powder turns.

Crappy snow on the way down was mitigated by amazing colors and views.

There is something gratifying (and desperately wrong) with starting and ending the day with your skis on your back.  Still hoping for some real snow to hit Montana this winter, but grateful for what is out there.

Red Rope Days

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Sometimes, you know what you should do, even if it doesn’t make any “sense.”  Thursday and Friday were good days at work, but I pushed it past 5pm last night to finish a few things out for the week.  I’ve felt over the cold that’s been slowing me down, and knew that there would be some good snow coming my way this weekend, but by Friday night I still didn’t have plan to make good use of a perfectly good Saturday.  I ended up telling a friend about all the fun I had in Bozeman, I suddenly realized just to do with today.  I could have called a partner, I could have gone to the gym, but similar to my experience in Hyalite in December, I knew I was ready for another ice solo.  Saturday would be a red rope day.

LIght and simple.

Last weekend, Drew and I had reflected on solo ice climbing- the clean minimalism, the quiet, the focus.  You don’t need much.  I probably still take more than most, but the thing that I notice most about my solo kit is my red Sterling 7mm tag line for rappelling off.  It’s light,  long enough (75m) to give me plenty of space to play, and packs down small- it’s all I really need.  Harness, tools, pons, helmet, puffy coat, and the red rope- clean and simple.

I made sure I got enough sleep, brewed a great espresso, and packed my kit quickly.  A shout out to Graham and the Cilogear crew, the 30L Ballistic worksack is the perfect bag for almost any day in the mountains.  I told my roommate where I was headed and got a move on.  The anticipation put an extra bounce in my step, and I knew I was in for something good.

100% Yes.

I don’t like rallying my car up the road into Finley Creek, but I feel badly about making partners walk an extra 1.5 miles to get to the goods.  On my own, it seemed like a perfect opportunity for some cardio.  Metallica might be the most loved music by climbers (how many route names can you think of that are Metallica songs?), and the Black album powered a very quick trip up the road from where I left the car.  35 minutes of hard effort earned my first views of the route from the trail, and 15 minutes later I was catching my breath at the base.  Weedeater is WI2+/3-, well within my abilities for soloing, and is in FAT at the moment.  Soloing is a binary activity, if I don’t feel 100%, then I go home, but there was no doubt in my head and I headed up.  Calm, controlled (and fun!) climbing in perfect weather.  Just what I was looking for.

30m of super fun.

I rapped off, took another lap with the rappel line as a backup, and then headed over to say hello to a few other folks out enjoying the day.  Respects paid, I was psyched on my climb and psyched on meeting new folks- I made very fast time back to the car.  It felt so good just to play- hiking, climbing, running around this amazing little canyon just 35 minutes drive from my house.  I love red rope days.

Not sure why I'm not smiling, but it was a gooooood jog back to the car.

In The Arena

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I was about 15 miles west of Bozeman and on the phone with my brother Friday afternoon when I noticed the road was solid ice.  I ended the call just in time to see a 3-ton flatbed truck complete a 360 across two lanes of traffic about four cars ahead of me.  I had been driving for 3 hours on my way to Bozeman to pick up Drew- we were supposed to head another 3 hours southeast for a big ice line in the Beartooth range, but somehow I was starting to have an icky feeling about the whole plan.

I picked up Drew, gear, and gas in Bozeman, and headed east into an increasing snowstorm.  We had decided to drive to the highway cutoff, and make the call over dinner.   Although both of us were stoked for the route we had picked, the thought of climbing a 3,500′ avalanche chute with a foot of fresh snow on it seemed plain stupid.  We ate dinner, got back in the car, and drove back to Bozeman in the dark.  While the turnaround was unsatisfying, we knew we had made the right call, and enjoyed a great conversation despite the hairy driving.  Which left the question, what else were we going to do?

When Drew asked me what else I might want to climb, the first line that jumped to mind was Cleopatra’s Needle.

The mega classic in mega good shape.

The line is usually done in 2 or 3 pitches, can vary in difficulty from WI4-WI5+, and is a Hyalite mega classic.  It was also the first “harder” ice line that really inspired me to learn the craft.  Drew said it was in WI4 shape, and in lieu of getting our big line in the Beartooths, it seemed like just the thing to test us on Saturday.

It’s a long hike to the base of the route, and we felt committed to the challenge by the time we got there.  That said, the crux pillar (which Drew encouraged me to lead) was obviously steeper and harder than anything I’ve climbed to date. The thing about pushing yourself is, you never know what you’ll accomplish until you put yourself in the arena and make a go of it.  In ice climbing, that has some real consequences, but I knew that I could make good decisions, and back off if I had to.  It was time to step in the arena of leading steep ice.

Fun in the sun with Drew leading pitch 1.

I’ve been thinking a lot about Teddy Roosevelts “Man in the Arena” speech lately.  Often with my climbing, I’ve backed off under the auspicies of good decision making, and experience, but I’ve been frustrated not to push myself.

Entering the arena.

Playing for keeps.

Towards the top of the pitch, I ran out of gas.  Just below easier terrain my hands started to cramp and fail, so I fired in a screw and sat on the rope.  Certainly not my preferred style, but in the moment necessary.  I’ve only sat on a screw on lead once before, and if I’m going to learn and progress, I need to fail more often, and that means pushing to the limit.  After a long rest I topped out the column and built an anchor.  Rather than climb easier terrain to the top, we decided to top rope the pillar, and spend more time on the steeps.  It was a great day out, and strangely, there was almost more success in not climbing the pillar clean, the success was just in getting on something I knew would be really hard for me.

Sunday, still a bit sore, we went back to Genesis I, a wall of ice close to the car that offers a variety of terrain- low angle to super steep, and burned 3 top rope laps each on the steepest section we could find.  It felt good to practice the craft.

On route looking down G1.

The drive home was uneventful, except for an unbelievable sunset.  I love this state.

Satisfaction.

Blogiversary?

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2011 was not short on goods.

I normally try not to post twice in a day, but sometimes there is good reason.  Today is the one year anniversary of this blog.  It took a lot of thinking before I settled on the name, and the first post on February 6, 2011 explains my choice.  I’ve been asked several times in the last week about why started writing, and what I’ve gotten out of it.

Hyalite Canyon, Bozeman, Montana

The short answer is- a lot more than I expected.  I’ve received more encouragement, feedback, and comments than I had ever dared hope.  I’ve found I love writing.  Most importantly in looking at the last year, I think this project has been a vehicle for examining my life in a new and more transparent way.  I started working for patagonia clothing in their Chicago store during my senior year of college.  While there, I was introduced to the notion that we should strive “to lead an examined life.”  This blog has been the next extension of that goal.  Looking back, the words I’ve written still ring true to me, and to those of you who have shared in my adventures, I hope they seem true for you as well.

Leaving Bogota, Colombia on the first day of real riding.

By the numbers, this space has been viewed 11,920 times.  It contains 129 posts, you my friends have posted 136 comments, and was viewed 135 times on the busiest day- October 10, 2011.  Thank you all so much for being part of my life, stayed tuned ’cause we’re going to push 2012 to the next level.

The North Summit of Denali, July 7, 2011.

A few of my favorite posts-

Some Bad Mother Pluckers

The Good Parts

Occupation

Solo

Summit of Denali

Castleton Tower

Valdez Finale

I can't wait for more.

Grin

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I get great satisfaction out of many things in life- managing a project on budget, sending a big ice line, or making a new friend.  None of these things puts a shit eating grin on my face quite like a perfect day of backcountry skiing.

The Crystal Theater is 50 minutes drive from my desk, and perfect for a Friday afternoon.

This weekend I got two of them.  My face hurts from so much smiling.

I’ve learned to make plans that keep me away from work.  For example- if I tell my friend Gwen that I think I can get out of work to ski on Friday afternoon, then I feel compelled to honor that statement, rather than spending my Friday afternoon accomplishing work that could just as well be accomplished later (possible on Saturday or Sunday, but more optimally on Monday).  So that’s what we did, and it was perfect.

Way better than my desk.

We started skinning into “the Crystal Theater” exactly 1h 10min after leaving Gwen’s house, and found 18″ of deliciously dry powder and stable avalanche conditions.  Full of stoke, we boogied to the top of the highest thing we could see well before the sun dropped behind the ridge, and proceeded to enjoy face shots almost all the way back to the flats.

Unbelievable snow.

We had such a good time, the only logical thing to do was do it again, so early Sunday morning we headed back up to Lolo Pass proper and skinned as far away from the snowmobiles as possible.  We missed Gwen’s boyfriend Ross joining in the fun, but we made sure to get in some extra laps for him.

Gwen's got the grin too.

Our first run was “exploratory” as the cold temps and bright sun had definitely baked the south aspect, but we headed deep into new territory and found the goods on round two.

Perfect glades full of powder.

We also took note of some of the tallest hoarfrost I’ve ever seen.  While we were largely skiing low angle slopes, this layer might create some interesting avy conditions if we get dumped on again in the next few days.

Huge hoarfrost "crisps!"

The bottom of run two put us on a forest service road, and while skinning back towards more familiar terrain, we both noticed a beautiful east facing slope with just a few tracks on it.  We were psyched to work a little more, and found some of the best snow of the day. Round 3 was not the end of the day.

Getting the goods on round 4, cutting across our own tracks from round 3.

We had a mix of broken trail, well laid skin track, and snowmobile pack, but by the time we got to the car our legs were feeling the work.

Willow gets mad credit for breaking trail most of the day.

Nothing quite like a perfect sunny day in a (mostly) quiet forest full of snow.  SO GOOD.  Many thanks to Gwen for being quick on her skins and eager to work hard- thanks lady!

The dropping sun leaves behind perfect colors.

Ancient Art

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While I’m a little sad this post isn’t about climbing the uber famous Ancient Arts spire, I spent last Saturday learning the ancient art of blacksmithing under the expert eyes of Jeffery Funk.  Jeff saw it fit to auction off a blacksmithing seminar to support AERO (which seems to have a habit of bringing good things to my life), and despite not having a job at the time, I bit the bullet and raised the bid.

The man in his castle- Jeff's shop is completely awesome.

"You can't touch this work...." so your hammers are your hands.

The day started with Jeff saying “I can make a hammer faster than I can drive to Kalispell and buy one.” So as a demo, he made one, out of an old piece of truck axel.

The big power hammer moves a 500# head... and makes reforging a 3" thick steel bar look easy.

Jeff emphasizes "it's quick work, you have to do it while it's hot." -- with just over an hour of work.

Grey, but still too hot to touch comfortably.

Later in the morning we got to scheme about projects, and get a feel for swinging the hammer ourselves.  At first we made standard round tapers (out of square bar stock), and then formed them into hooks (game hooks, bike hooks, name it).

My first few swings.

Everybody's gettin down to business.

You figure out why anvils have their shape once you start bending the eyelets.

Most people were pretty excited to make hammers, but Jeff had said we could do other stuff, so I opted to try my hand at the fine traditions of climbing heritage.

The best recollection I had on the spot for some basic piton designs.

Yvon Chouinard got started in business hand forging pitons, and by the end of the day, I realized that probably also did wonders for his grip strength.

The first practice round, made out of junk steel bar stock.

While I was practicing, Bryan and Matt were having lots of fun with the sledgehammer.

After a few practice rounds we were running short on time, and I had a whole new respect for the precision that one can wield with a hammer and hot metal (which I had not yet developed).  Fortunately, Jeff was more than generous with his advice, and I started to get the hang of it.

Tie rod from a 1972 International truck. Perfect piton stock.

Jeff likes to make morst of his work out of found/salvaged materials.  When the world ends, guys like Jeff are going to be the ones that do alright.  You can make most anything in his shop, and make it out of most anything.  You might remember his bicycle powered apple cider press?

Getting down to business with yours truly on the medium power hammer.

In the last few minutes of the day I made the last few dents, took off the burrs, and left Big Fork with the first piton in my collection.  The work is gritty, hard, and real.  The results are as tangible as they come.  To some, it might have been an exhausting day in the shop, but to me, it was a perfect Saturday.  Many thanks to Jeff and AERO for the opportunity.

It needs a little more time under the grinder, but is pretty much good to go. Stayed tuned for the first placement.