Category Archives: Traveling

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

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I called my grandmother tonight to celebrate her birthday.  She’s the sharpest, and most gracious 92 year old woman I know, and I look forward to knowing her for many more years.
Later tonight, my friend Dustin reminded me of something my grandfather (my grandmother’s late husband) used to say:

“Nothing, is going to spoil this day.” (C. Raymond Carlson)

It’s funny how things get screwed up in your head sometimes, and this was a welcome perspective.  More to follow on the most recent adventures…

Dustin, deep in the Selway-Bitterroot…

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.

Entity

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One of my favorite NOLS instructors left our course with a short piece of wisdom- “Climb things that inspire you.”

This past weekend was dominated by a commitment to shuttle some friends to their put-in for a rafting trip on the Salmon River, and while I wasn’t able to convert the trip to Idaho into climbing anything big, I was able to exploit the opportunity for a little spontaneous adventure.  My weekends this summer are filling fast, and none of my Missoula friends were free to get dragged into a 200 mile shuttle mission, so I found myself outside North Fork, Idaho yesterday morning with no plans, no partners, and staring at the continental divide.

Mission Accomplished. Safe travels to Crow and Kelly!

I realized these were the Idaho side of some of the mountains that had caught my eye when I drove the Big Hole valley in June.  Rarely do I find myself without a plan, but it felt fun to let the mountains inspire me, and the plans to follow.  I didn’t have a map of the region, and hadn’t done any research, but honestly it didn’t matter.  GoogleMaps on my phone got me to the base of an old jeep trail, and my feet took care of the rest.  Sometimes  not knowing where you are going takes you to places even better than what you might have planned for.

Inspiration abounds.

I left the car at 5,400′ with a light pack of bivy gear and and angst to get out.  4.5 hours later I had ticked two summits over 10,000′ and found the perfect bivy spot.  Before I left, my loose plan was to tick as many summits as possible in 24 hours, but my fractured foot wasn’t up to it, and frankly I’m a little out of shape for all day scrambling.  My goals shifted to simply play in the mountains until my body said stop.

Random jeep roads to… nowhere?

I had a lot on my mind.  My friend Andy left Missoula on Friday afternoon- the depth and strength of our friendship is unquestionable, but his departure left me with some loneliness in my heart.

Looking back at the first summit of the day.

From the first summit- my next objective.

Work has been racing lately, and while the big picture remains fulfilling, the day to day responsibilities aren’t always pretty.  I’m really not looking forward to this week at work, and making peace with how I’ve chosen to spend my time in Missoula requires regular maintenance.

Moving fast and high in the mountains is what it’s all about.

Without a partner, I limited myself to easy scrambling and fast hiking- but the solitude also left me open to explore the loneliness and doubt.  Strangely the peace I’ve normally found by pushing hard through beautiful wilderness remained illusive.

Tired legs. Looking at the Big Hole valley from Monument Peak, 10, 320′.

After summit number 2, I dug out my bivy gear high on the ridgeline, in prime position for an epic sunrise, and hopefully (unsuccessfully) away from the bugs .  There, high on the ridgeline, I remembered how I felt traveling last year- the freedom, the solitude, the joy.  I listened to one of my favorite pieces of music, “Entity” by Tim Reynolds, and the vision I have for my life snapped back into focus.  Sleep came quickly, and sunrise was as perfect as expected.

First light, July 22, 2012.

Morning glow.

Bivy.

Sleeping at altitude left me with a headache in the morning, and with my foot aching, I knew it was time to head for home.  For whatever reason, the peace of the previous evening didn’t hold, but the vision I have for my life remained vivid.  I enjoyed the hike down, and pushed out the drive home in time for a productive Sunday afternoon.

“Refuse to allow anything to impact the vision you hold for yourself, and the person you seek to become.  Whether or not you feel that you are that person in this moment, your vision for who that is, is a real possession that you can find satisfaction in.  If you don’t feel like you have a vision for yourself right now, try to create one- chances are it doesn’t include whatever it is that is bothering you.  With that vision comes a plan for your life, and inner joy that is rooted in substance.”

A Picture of My Life- 4.22.08

No Sweat

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It’s been hot here in Missoula lately, so I’ve been chasing adventures that tend to keep me cool.  I haven’t succeeded in not sweating, but I certainly have had a lot of fun.  Just as Ramesh and I got back from Glacier National Park last week, my close friend Andy (and his lovely lady Sarah) rolled in from Chicago.  They’re out backpacking in the Bitterroot now, but wanted to check out Missoula and catch up before they checked in to the deep wild.

We hit the Clark fork in the canoe last Sunday, but the Clark Fork hit us back with some spicy rapids and strong flows.  There was no shortage of getting wet, but that also meant there was a shortage of photos.  Boats were flipped, a few minor pieces of gear got lost, but the smiles stayed on and we made an adventure of it.

One of the rare photos of me and Andy- on the far end of Como Lake.

Wednesday night Andy and Sarah were ready to head in, and despite a full on week of work, I made a last minute decision to sneak out with them for a night in the woods.  We took off out of Missoula at 530, made a few stops on our way to Como lake, and started hiking around 8pm.  We made camp at 10pm, I slept until 5, and then hobbled as best as I could back to the car to drive into work.  It was a long commute that I sincerely did not mind.

If only every commute could start with this view…

Saturday I got the climbing itch, bad, and knew I’d be far from adventure activities due to some upcoming work commitments, so I tracked down a partner and headed out for an easy romp up No Sweat Arete (4p, 5.7, II) in Mill Creek.  Overcast skies kept temperatures reasonable, and after over a month of being off the rock, getting in a few pitches felt awesome.  My right hand is still well injured from tearing a pulley in early June, but my foot is coming back together nicely so mellow terrain was in order.  There’s still nothing I enjoy quite like a nice multipitch outing.

I still don’t know if this is actually the first pitch…

Jen- figuring it out, backpack and all.

Major props to my new friend Jen for completing her first multi-pitch climb, and carrying a sizable pack to boot.  Now that I know the route, we’ll take less stuff next time… thanks for a great day out lady!

Still smiling after pitch 4… only one more to go.

One off the top for good measure. And yes, there is a 1,000ft unclimbed wall behind me…

Like Civilized Men

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I spent last week introducing an old friend to new places and new ideas- safe to say we both learned a few things and had a hell of a good time.  Ramesh showed up from Houston on Tuesday morning.  I took care of a few work items, while he explored downtown and hiked “the M.”  I wrapped up work and we started a 5 day blitz of all that western Montana had to offer: live music, rodeo, pow-wow, Walmart (really?), downtown Missoula, BBQ, fireworks, Big Dipper Ice Cream, and wilderness.  With the last piece being the most important, I knew that Glacier National Park more than anywhere else, was probably just the best place to introduce my friend to the wilderness for the first time.  The photos tell the story better than I can:

Lake McDonald. Gateway to Glacier National Park.

The boat I borrowed was still there after 160 miles…

Boat + Car + Mountains = Adventure

Ramesh learns to move some water- and rock a cowboy hat.

Kintla Lake = Perfection.

My friend opened his heart to this place, and had more questions than I had answers to.

High country.

Learning the skills. Ramesh was happy to nail the flint and steel, and I was happy to nail the photo!

An evening with civilized men.

Our paths since living together in college have differed, but sharing time in the wild was the  perfect way to reconnect.  The opportunity to share my love and skills for traveling in these places was sublime.  We enjoyed perfect weather, a perfect route, and perfect conversation.  There’s too much even to blog about, and more on the way- stay tuned.

Tech details: Day 1- drive to Polebridge, MT, get a little lost, find Kintla Lake, canoe to lower Kintla backcountry camp.  Day 2- reload gear, backpack to upper Kintla Lake backcountry camp, then day hike to snowline below boulder pass, Day 3- hike back to boat at Lower Kintla, canoe to car, drive to Missoula for epic dinner with more new friends.

Portland #5: Out to Sea

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“Portland is like the ex-girlfriend you talk about too much.”
My friend pointed this out towards the end of a nightcap a while ago.  I found her suggestion both accurate and somewhat snarky.  It was the truth however, and I felt no shame in acknowledging it.  Emotions have been swinging lately- foot pain, lethargy, and loneliness mixed with equal parts music, food, and professional success seem to make stability illusive.

Moonlight on clouds above the Clark Fork- an ideal setting to do some thinking.

My broken foot has kept me away from most of my stabilizing and affirming summer activities (climbing, running, hiking, etc.), and I dislike the prospect that my running season is likely over for the year.  No surprise that I’ve been feeling a gaping void in my life without these things to fill in.  Summer is here in earnest, and while the void has been partially filled with BBQs, music, and new activities (like canoeing?  I haven’t been in a canoe in years…), I’ve found it easy to slip back into the frame of mind that yes, life was better in Portland.

I think about the process of moving to Portland in 2007 (the last time I really moved to a new place permanently), and realize that the deep and painful self-inspection and re-creation of myself that I went through during my early time there masked the challenges of embracing a new place and new people.  Embracing the new things seemed secondary and easier than the more immediate challenges of addressing some problematic issues at the core of my character.  Here in Missoula, my goals seem bigger and I expect more of myself, and thus the challenges may seem harder (fun to note that the challenges I’ve struggled with are consistently related to the goals I described when I moved here).

Was showing my new roommate around Missoula last Friday and stumbled upon a classic car show “cruising the strip”. Small town American west at it’s best.

I found myself reading a stellar blog by Liz Clark (patagonia surfing ambassador and world traveler extraordinair) last night, and somehow it reminded me that while Portland was an important part of my experience, that was then and it isn’t now.  I left that place because I stopped finding magic happening there.  Where the magic happens is almost always just outside of your comfort zone. I’m out to sea on my journey, and while it occasionally isn’t as pretty or fun as Ms. Clark’s, it’s mine, and being outside the comfort zone (that perhaps Portland represents to me right now) is a good sign that I’m doing it right.

I think this is what I’m exploring on this journey. Saw this on facebook originally, but found online here: http://www.highexistence.com/images/view/where-the-magic-happens-vs-your-comfort-zone-2/

Stay Inspired

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I came home tonight hoping to write something and failed.  My heart has had a lot of emotion lately, but somehow the words aren’t happening.  I ended up staring blankly at my computer for the better part of two hours, until I finally saw something that really snapped my attention back to the present.  Thanks John, for all the lessons, the trips, the inspiration, the knowledge, and making a really cool video about some of your experience.  It helps me stay inspired:

Smash and Grab Ascent on Burkett Needle.

Portland #4: In Limbo

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The most recent adventures have pulled more on my heartstrings than my hamstrings.  About a month ago my boss invited me to join him for the PassiveHouse Northwest conference being held in Portland.  Aside from the topic matter (that has become increasingly more important to me of late), I wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to see friends and spend some time in the previous home city.  About a week ago, I realized that making the trip was also likely to involve some challenging emotions.  We’ll stick to the facts first.

PassivHaus is an aggressive German standard for designing and constructing buildings with ultra low energy use and ultra high air quality and comfort.  In the design community it has a reputation for attracting some of the most zealous and nerdy folks that the architecture and engineering community can offer.  I prefer to think that the standard simply represents the next logical step in how buildings really must be designed and built. In general, folks at the conference were well behaved, very amiable, and geeked out really hard (star of the show was the guy who built a PassivHaus in Fairbanks, Alaska).

Yes, yes, this is a bunch of people standing around gawking at a window mockup-- only at a PassivHaus conference.

Close up of what all the fuss is about. Really high performance windows from Germany.

A mildly color adjusted image of a double stud wall with no thermal bridging. Nerdy as charged.

Building materials test chamber- for wind driven rain up to 200mph...

In between conference duties, I squeezed in time with old friends, and wandered in old familiar places.  I stared down some heavy emotions about careers, opportunities, friends, love, and the direction I’d like my life to take.

I miss Portland.  I miss the deep and high quality friendships that I have there.  The high salary gave me ample freedom of choice, and the city itself met much of my criteria for where I want to be.  I found two musical partners there that continue to write and perform music that I love, and loved to be a part of.  I honed my skills there in a career that is important and meaningful, and yet somehow in my gut, my life isn’t there.

I love Montana, and have ever since my first trip as a kid.  The access to the outdoors is phenomenal.  I’ve found meaningful work to get back on my feet, and live a simpler life that is more locally oriented.   In many ways, life here is better balanced, and I’m looking forward to many awesome, local adventures.  I feel honored to work with the people that I do, and am excited to be developing new skills an knowledge in the building design field I’ve done well with in the past.

I’ve found a little more peace since returning to Missoula, but my heart was in limbo for most of last week.  No doubt, I’m sticking to my commitment to Montana, but it was an interesting trip to Portland.  Below is a small bit of wisdom I picked up on the way:

John Ruskin was a wise man.

“Any pain associated with leaving something behind is usually a good sign that it was worth what you paid for it in the first place.” (George Veech)