The gas station/tourist trap smelled like sugar and people wearing too many personal hygiene products. My head was pounding, but I was falling asleep at the wheel anyway. 45 minutes into a 9 hour drive, I was not feeling psyched on the trip.

Columbia River

I was stressed about work, frustrated with bad weather, and leaving town feeling underprepared. I was deeply afraid of not having a “good enough” time on my vacation. I woke up on Saturday morning at Dustin’s parents house in Stanwood, WA. Their spot on a bluff above Puget sound has been a regular refuge over the years.

Bob and Nancy, and Puget Sound. Doing together right for over 40 years.

Dustin was more than willing to be an impromptu climbing partner, but I spent the first day of my vacation resting. Sunday we headed for Washington Pass- fittingly, we got rained off after the first pitch on Concord Tower…

Strangely my first visit to this particular climbing icon…

For his many wonderful qualities, Dustin has reynouds syndrome, and enduring cold and wet is not a good vacation activity. To be fair, I usually like an equally willing partner to suffer with if I’m going alpine climbing. We headed down valley for warmer temps and bolted multi-pitch outside of Mazama. Dustin had never been on a multi-pitch climb, so I figured we would start “easy.”

Heavy weather

Sisyphus is a super fun, fully bolted 10 pitch climb with a 5.11a crux in the middle. The line isn’t particularly aesthetic, but the position is great, and the bolts are generous. If you don’t fire the grade, the first 5 pitches take you to a lovely ledge for lunch!

Getting a taste of the big air.

Stoke

Many rappels down- pitch by pitch beta to follow shortly. More about this fun little tool later.

Tech Notes: 
Huge props to North Cascades Mountain Guides for establishing the route and making a topo readily available for free. We climbed with a 70m rope. You can link pitches 1&2, 7&8, and 9&10 (recommended), and simul climb from the top of P3 to the base of P5 if you are strong at the grade. You can also link the rappel from the base of Pitch 4 to the intermediate tree rap in the middle of pitch 3. Otherwise, 11 rappels is a lot of rappels…

Small but vicious. A quick end to the day.

I’ve been climbing for nearly 10 years, and am very thankful to have never had a serious injury while rock climbing. A few weeks ago Tess and I were in Blodgett Canyon and I led off on the first pitch of “Cornlier Ridge.” The opening moves were much harder than I expected. I fell hard just off the deck, and through various circumstances burned and lacerated my right pinky. I recovered my gear and we headed back down. The experience rattled me badly, and suddenly this thing that I have loved so much didn’t really seem so great.

My hand has healed quickly. I’m not sure if it was the bill from ER, or wanting to clear my head before my upcoming trip to Squamish, but Sunday felt like the right time to give it another go. I didn’t sleep well Saturday night. I’ve never asked myself to go back to the site of an accident and try again. 

Climb the right facing dihedral in the center left of the face.

To progress, we have to be willing to look deeply at our mistakes. I’ve run away or given up on plenty of things, but it’s never felt comfortable. This didn’t have to be one of those things. Sarah and I hiked up to the route on Sunday afternoon. I wasn’t really sure what was going to happen, but felt pretty sure it would go well if I just gave it another go.

Blodgett is one of those places that inspires growth.

The lower crux pitch took me a while to lead, and still scared me. I sent with good style, but could feel myself grunting and gripping harder than I have on most other, harder climbs lately. I pulled to the anchors in good style, and sent the upper crux without issue. We agreed that the climbing is probably only 5.10b. I’ll have to do it a few more times before it really feels comfortable. The accomplishment felt strangely empty. Perhaps because the climbing is well within my capacities, maybe more likely because fear is such an empty enemy. 

Summit notch. Unknown pitches beckon another trip (photo: Sarah Zugar)

I owe this one to Sarah’s excellent stoke, and faith in my send.

It is what seems to be lacking in my life lately.  I haven’t been spending my time pursuing my priorities, even when I feel like I know what they are (which is surprisingly not often).

Driving back from California, my focus drifted so far as to wonder why I was bothering to drive back to Missoula at all- the eastern Sierra is just that captivating- but fortunately practical concerns won out.  I see it in my writing, in my working, in my home life, and in my tire tracks, the focus is missing.

I thoroughly enjoyed a very short trip to Portland last weekend- mostly on the occasion of witnessing two beautiful people tie a beautiful knot:

“Work is love made visible.” (Kahlil Gibran) It’s obvious these two have done the work.

Naturally, I jammed the rest of my time in the city chock full of familiar faces.

Roommates for life, at least in spirit.

It felt like an effort to pick up again after the long drive home from California and a full work week, but I was very grateful to have the company of two awesome Missoulians for the drive on each end.  My friends Emily and Kate both had loved ones of their own to see in PDX, so we made a road trip of it.  Our conversations in the car were some of the most open and insightful sharing I’ve gotten to experience since moving here.

This past week I’ve been stretched thin at work as my dear friend and colleague Andy moves back to his native Australia (where I cannot wait to visit him in January).  As such, I’ve picked up a number of additional projects, and with winter coming, it is not a slow time for heating contractors.  Training sessions have been few and far between, and my focus has felt far from climbing and writing (or anything in particular), points that I hope to steer towards throughout the fall.  I’ve made a point to give more time to the non-profit organizations that I am working with (here, and here).  Doing what needs to be done isn’t always as satisfying as you hope.

How can we make this little black and white sticker really *mean* something more.

From this blog on May 26, 2011:

‘“Big dreams.” I reply quickly. For a while there at my desk I could no longer imagine a better life than racing between passion and profession, scrambling, scrimping, just getting enough of each to resemble a commitment, but never reaping the rewards of real dedication. Releasing it all, the options loom large and the big dreams for my life flood back in. It’s all on the table again, rather than the slim possibilities afforded by a desk job I fell into and existed on because someone else offered it to me.’

Another rainy afternoon in Missoula, and I’m whining about not climbing.  I spent yesterday, which was mostly gorgeous (or at least, nice enough that climbing would have been the  expected activity), supporting the awesome team that I work with participate in the Homeward Sustainability Tour.  Was I more committed to climbing, or more committed to sharing what I know about a sustainable built environment?  Thoughts about big dreams, about balance, and places to live with year round good climbing weather creep to the front of my brain.  Suddenly, the quote above rings true.  Am I back in the grind?

My boss sharing his passion in his backyard- talking about high performance windows, chickens, and building urban density.

Yes,… and no.  Thursday night I pulled a muscle in my hand at the climbing gym.  I was warmed up and had been climbing regularly, but something just popped- that’s how it goes.  I’ll be out of climbing for a week or more, and that’s tough- I don’t remember the last time I was this motivated about rock climbing.  That said, the weather has been crappy and I haven’t been pulling on real rocks nearly enough.  I was tempted to think “why didn’t I move to a place with better weather [more partners/more climbing terrain/more whatever]?”  I haven’t often felt doubt about being in Missoula, but when I consider what I’m committed to, it’s not really about the climbing and it makes sense that I’m here.

Frequent after work commitments.

I like talking about my commitment to my sport, to training, to being outside, but the fact is that deep down I’m more committed to making a contribution to the fabric of our society (via changing the way we relate to our natural resources), than to being a climbing bum or an athlete.  When people ask me about what I do, more than ever- I tell them I have my dream job.  I get to make things actually happen, I work for a team that truly believes in me and supports me, and that challenges, educates, and rewards me in equal measure.  I didn’t expect to find this being a contractor, or being in Montana.  Certainly there is a balance, and certainly I can carry some commitments outside the office, but at the core of it, making a name for myself and my organization as a leader in sustainability in this community takes precedence.

I find some sadness in that commitment, some envy of those that have chosen otherwise, and some frustration in not being able to blend the two more seamlessly.  No doubt, my passion for sustainability comes from being in wild places, and that my work ethic in the office translates just as well to my ethic for adventure.  Commitment is a two edged sword that way- it is about doing without some things (living in my car with unlimited freedom and endless climbing), and doing more of others (getting at real sustainable buildings).  So yes, I am still split between my passions, but no- this time it’s different.  After spending a year on this journey- the place that I’m in is the product of my own core values and careful decision making.  If these factors take me elsewhere, I will go- but maybe this is just how my life is, one passion enriching the other.

It’s June in Montana and wearing a puffy coat around the house is still required when getting ready for a run. Maybe I’m more committed than I give myself credit for.

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.