Monthly Archives: August 2012

Love

It’s a topic that I’ve kept off of this blog, but this post has been under my skin all week. Perhaps I’ve avoided it here by choice, or out of respect for the theme, but if the purpose of the space is to offer the opportunity to examine my life- then it’s only fair to admit that the topic has been on my mind lately.

I won’t pretend to have a good handle on love, in fact, my brother probably puts it best – “romantic relationships seem to have a particularly strong negative effect on your normally sound judgement and careful decision making.” He’s right, romance tends to bend me out of shape worse than any alpine sufferfest. Maybe that’s why I’ve found myself rolling solo much more than a duo- but this is not really about romance, it’s about love.

Love is what you share when you are more excited about what you have to give someone than what you might receive from them. Love is what you accept when being around someone compels you to be the very best version of yourself and no one else.

Thank you to those of you who have recently asked me to be more discerning about what this word really means.

“Love is not sincere until every vestige of feeling that somebody owes us something is surrendered.” (Michael Booth)

Eat Our Words 2012: Inspiration

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Saturday night I had the privilege of giving a story-telling performance at the PEAS farm in the Rattlesnake neighborhood north of Missoula. About 60 people sat on strawbales underneath a perfect orange sunset and golden hills to hear 6 people tell true personal stories in 7 minutes or less on the theme of inspiration. I had helped organize the event, and amongst everything else I had going on in my life, the event had started to feel like a burden. I didn’t really have a story to tell until mid-Saturday afternoon, but things came together, and when I arrived at the farm, I knew it was exactly the sort of event that I want to support- I can’t wait for 2013. The text of my story is below (as I envisioned telling it, not exactly how it came tumbling out of my mouth…)- when it is available, I’ll include a link to the audio recording:

“I looked up to say hello to the stranger skiing towards me, but just as I lifted my head, I felt the sensation of falling, and saw nothing but white. It took me a minute to realize what was going on- I was working as a volunteer climbing ranger with the Denali National Park staff, and we were ski touring up the Kahiltna Glacier to check on conditions. Glaciers are large block of ice that slowly slide down mountain valleys, and as they slide over obstacles and changes in terrain, the ice breaks and forms channels that can be hundreds of feet deep called cravasses. My Park Service team and I had been practicing rescuing people out of these sorts of situations and the first thought through my head was- ‘this is perfect, I’m falling into a cravasse and I’m roped up to the best team of people in the world, this is just great!’ That lasted about 1/10th of a second until I hit the water. Most cravasses aren’t full of water, but this one was, and I was in up to my neck, with my skis, backpack, and iPod still beating. The next thought through my head was ‘oh shit, I’m probably going to die right here- this is really what it looks like.’

I couldn’t help but think about how a nerdy kid from the Chicago suburbs ended up swimming in the bottom of a cravasse in the middle of the Alaska range. When I was 17, I grabbed two high school friends and stole my mom’s minivan. I don’t really remember what inspired us then, but we drove west in search of adventure. We ended up spending two weeks exploring the Wind River mountains in Wyoming, and when I drove back to Chicago my heart was ready to burst out of my chest- all I wanted to do was learn how to be in the mountains. In thinking about telling this story tonight, I looked up the definition of inspiration- it is ‘that which compels us to take action.’ I was inspired, that is to say compelled, to be in the mountains.

So I went home to Chicago, and every chance I got, I traveled west to be in the mountains. Eventually, I had the chance to move to Oregon, and I explored the mountains there. A few years later, I left my salaried job with benefits and moved into the back of my car so I could be in the mountains. From Scotland to Alaska to Ecuador, and all over the American west, I made friends and mentors and learned how to push my body in all kinds of mountain adventures. I gained skills and experience, and eventually, I was invited to work as a volunteer ranger in Alaska.

I didn’t really know until a few years ago exactly why I loved being in the mountains so much, why I enjoy challenging myself, scaring myself, pushing myself to the very limit. I’ve been so fortunate to share my mountain adventures with a wide range of incredible adventure partners. Usually in climbing, and in the adventures I like to pursue, you need a partner. The mountain environments demand our complete attention- they make us face our securities, and then strip away the opportunity to entertain them any further. And I’ve noticed, when my partners and I stop entertaining our insecurities, it makes room for us to do incredible things. To transcend the limits that we’ve placed on ourselves. Getting to be a part of a partnership dedicated to transcending our limits- watching and supporting one of my partners stare up at something that they think they cannot do, but that they try anyway, and then succeed at- is the most inspiring thing I’ve ever been fortunate to witness.

And so me and all my “skills” and “experience” were swimming in the bottom of this cravasse. I knew I had to step up to do what I could to help the situation, and I knew my partners above were doing their very best- one guy was making sure no one else fell in, one guy was getting warm clothes ready for me, and another guy was getting another rope to me. Eventually- humble, sopping wet, cold, and scared, I belly flopped back onto the surface of the glacier. I was not dead. My partners were so warm, so supportive, so caring- so ready to do whatever it was that needed doing to take care of me. I got back to camp quickly, got warm, and took stock of the lessons learned.

So I keep going out, breaking my body, failing at all kinds of things, getting scared- because it strips away the insecurities, the baggage. That’s what I’m looking for, something to strip it all away, and I kinda hope that I never find it- that last thing to really take it all away, because the search is what keeps me inspired.

Thank you.

Mt Brooks and the Pyramid Peaks from 12,500′ on Karsten’s Ridge, Denali.

Pack It In

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I’m catching up on my adventure stories tonight, because frankly I’ve been packing it in this summer. Per my previous post, my good friend Dustin was in Missoula from August 16-22, and per our usual style, we packed it in. Highlights included rock climbing at Kootenai, floating the Clark Fork, and rad 3 day backpacking trip between Kootenai canyon and Big Creek Canyon- covering ~37 miles in ~48 hours, with a 6 mile technical ridge scramble in the middle. Dustin has a way of compelling me to step up and be a better version of myself in a way that few other people do- and he usually does it just by being himself. I’ll let the photos tell the story:

It’s been a while since Dustin’s been on the ropes, but his knots still look good.

Clear views of some sweet faces on night 1.

Psyched to be in the Bitterroot high country- just such a fun place to play. We spent most of the day scrambling the ridge on the left.

Yes, we have matching visors. My old one went missing, and Dustin wanted a piece of Montana… (photo by Dustin).

Big Creek Lakes may hold some first ascent possibilities- if you want to haul your gear 14 miles…

Dinner was just that good.

On the way out (photo by Dustin).

A huge thank you to my dear friend for making the trip out here, and continuing to be a driving force for many good things in my life.

Nothing

Wafflestompers

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It was the first thing out of my mouth. I don’t know why- but the guy on the dock asked us for a team name and it just tumbled out. I’m not even sure I really know what a wafflestomper is, but one thing for sure, we were all ready to stomp some waffles at the end of this adventure.

Idaho baby- where dew freezes to ice on the outside of your sleeping bag in August…

I got to share a rope with two incredible people at one of the most incredible alpine crags anywhere this weekend. Ky and I have been trying to line up for weeks so this felt a little overdue- and I’ve been looking forward to sharing a rope with my friend Linda since we first met in May while she was in Missoula for work. We headed south to Stanley, Idaho on Friday afternoon with visions of pink granite on our minds, and forest fire smoke in our eyes. A little road construction meant we didn’t catch a boat across Redfish Lake until Saturday morning, but we didn’t mind the extra time to admire Linda’s sprinter van and pack far too much rock gear for the weekend.

Keep your puffy coat handy…

I had been to the Elephant’s Perch once before and was eager to try some of the more interesting lines- especially with two other solid trad climbers. I wasn’t exactly sure how climbing as a team of 3 would work, but I was certain that I had the right people and we were headed for fun. By the time we finished the burly approach, and given that Linda had driven 1,200 miles to make the trip happen, she was happy to hold down camp while Ky and I wandered out for a few pitches on Saturday afternoon- “scouting” for Sunday.

We set off for the bottom of the “Astro Elephant” route with maximum enthusiasm and minimum intelligence. I hadn’t read the route description nearly well enough- but after 1hr 15min of wandering in the wrong direction, a nice couple with the guidebook set us on the right course, and we boogied to the base of the route. We made short work of getting off route on some of the stoutest 5.10 trad climbing I’ve ever experienced.

That’s Ky, following me off-route and off-width. Classic.

So it’s less than vertical in one direction, but more than vertical in the other…

At least I found a pretty belay?

We had started with the intention to do the first 4 pitches, and then come back to fire the whole route Sunday. It didn’t quite work that way. As this was Ky’s first experience with real multi-pitch alpine climbing, he learned an important lesson “respect old school ratings.” We were thoroughly worked when we got back to camp, and quickly modified our plans, deciding to climb The Mountaineers Route as a team of 3.

I didn’t get many photos of the beginning of the route (cause I was leading it), but I had done the route two years ago so I felt a little more confident about what we were headed into Sunday. I enjoyed handing over the sharp end to Ky and Linda to enjoy the solid splitters and featured faces of fine pink granite that became our playground for the day. We knew we needed to catch the boat back across the lake at 7pm, but we put the focus on having fun and enjoying the route. The mission of having fun at least, was accomplished in full.

Linda styles the “Triple Roofs traverse” on Pitch 4.

Ky finds his groove on the upper slabs of Pitch 5.

We climbed steadily, but swapping leads in a team of 3 demands careful rope management, and Ky was starting to deal with some unexpected intestinal problems, and our pace slowed. I was starting to bite my teeth as Linda worked her way through the pitch 7 crux:

Charging the crux off-width means so much more when you are 5’1″… respect.

We topped out with the sinking realization there was no way we would make the 7pm boat back to the car, nor the 5 hour drive back to Missoula for work in the morning. We finished off some wild boar sausage (so good you should bother to click the link) and enjoyed the colors.

Enough said.

Last looks.

We moved as best we could. Ky continued to battle some serious health issues, Linda and I loaded up with weight, and we boogied down the valley in the dark. After being on the move for 13.5 hours, walking another 6 miles back to the car with our climbing packs was out of the question. We crashed on the beach and wondered what our apologies would sound like in the morning.

Homeward.

A shuttle boat showed up promptly at 8am, and we were in cell phone service by 830am, which was about 8 hours after Ky’s loved ones had called the local sheriff…

Significant others, bosses, clients were quickly phoned from Stanley and things worked out shortly. Ky and I quickly pointed north and Linda continued south- all of us with professional commitments on our minds.

So we spent an extra night out. No one got hurt, went hungry, or was ever in any real danger. We all missed a few hours of work, nothing else. I made some bad judgement calls, and perhaps volunteered our team for more than we could chew. We learned some stuff. That said, I don’t regret any of it, and am so grateful and so psyched to have shared such an beautiful weekend out with such beautiful people.

stickthefeeling

engineering, adventure, and balance