Portland #5: Out to Sea

2 Replies

“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/

Roaming

3 Replies

Roaming- that’s what my phone said for most of last weekend.  I like it that way.

Last Thursday I was out for a short run- easy pace, short distance, with some circuit training in mind for later, but about 20 minutes in, something popped in my left foot and I hobbled home to spend the evening looking at the hills I’d rather be running.  The feeling that my awesome weekend plan was about to go sideways sank into my stomach.

Yes this is actually the view from my backyard most nights…

My good friend David spent his Friday driving out from Seattle to explore some of Montana with me, and despite limping through the workday, I knew I just needed to get out of town. David has inspired me for a long time, and I appreciate how our friendship continues to grow despite having lived in different states for most of the time we’ve known each other.  I gave David a quick tour of the city Friday night, and Saturday morning we headed for the Anaconda-Pintler Wilderness in southwestern Montana.  It’s a corner of the state I haven’t ever been to, and one of the least visited wilderness areas.  I felt optimistic whatever was hurting my foot would clear up and we hiked into the backcountry above Storm Lake.

Pintler-Anaconda Wilderness. Booyah.

It’s still early season in Montana.

David thinks – “this, this is not Seattle any more…”

David’s dog Bisbee joined us for the adventure, and although she ultimately proved to limit our range of terrain, we were grateful for her company.  We found camp on a barren plateau at 9,400′ and after a gorgeous sunset, hunkered down for a very windy night.

We’re just out for a “walk”, at 9,800′.

Which one is the dog, and which one is the fox?

High country goods.

The elements may all be the same- rock, cloud, tree, sky- but a sunset in the wilderness always seems special to me.

Our second summit attempt the next morning found us facing down some serious thunderheads, and my foot wasn’t getting any better, so we bailed back to the car, and took the Jetta for a joy ride down the Big Hole valley (another place I’ve been meaning to explore).  We paid our respects at the Big Hole National Battlefield, enjoyed views off Lost Trail pass, and found ourselves camped on the Salmon River outside North Fork, Idaho for Sunday evening.

The Big Hole Valley. Montana Hwy 569 is not to be missed.

Car camping on the Salmon.

It felt like summer to just go.  To just roam.  Forget work, forget worries (minus my foot), enjoy time with an old friend, and explore.  We found an abandon mine- it was rad.  We found some sketchy hill people living at a hot spring that we drove 40 miles of dirt roads to find- it was… not so rad, but still makes for a fun story.  Sometimes I give car camping a bad rap, but when you can’t walk any more and just gotta go, I’m grateful for it.

Ever wonder how much abandon mining equipment is scattered across the west?

Well off the beaten path…

Tuesday morning David took off, and I headed to the podiatrist.  We had a useful conversation about the stress fracture in my second metatarsal, and he gave me a walking boot.  Certainly not how I planned to start my Missoula summer, but I’ve got plans to figure it out.  Many thanks to David for being an awesome adventure partner and important friend- here’s to many more.

3-4 weeks. It looks worse than it is.

Questions

Leave a reply

A few weeks ago, I had been talking to my mom about writing- she had two pieces of advice:

Good writers are people who notice, and who write to learn more.

I’ve been turning her words over for a while now, and thinking about how I learn.  How I progress, how I change myself, and how I let others change me.  It’s about the questions- the ones others ask of me, and of themselves (which generally beg, are you asking yourself that question?).

Once upon a time I was passed over for a leadership position for a group I was in.  I wasn’t bitter, I respected both of the two leaders that were selected, and we went on to work well together.  I did solicit the feedback as to why I wasn’t selected– “they others, they asked the right questions when we were evaluating them.”  I accepted that, and understood it in that situation.  The example has always stood out to me- take the time to ask the questions, and think about whether they are the right ones.  I’ve got big questions at work, at home, and outside– are they the right ones?

Most of the time I feel like I don’t notice, and don’t ask the right questions, and I don’t believe that just continuing to ask is any assurance you’ll ask all the right ones.  How do you make sure you ask the right questions?  (post answers to comments if you like)

Just before I left Portland, an acquaintance offered me 5 keys for success in life. Maybe the right questions point here?

Commitment

Leave a reply

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.

Buy Your Vote?

Leave a reply

There’s been a lot in the news this week about money in politics.  I couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride in my newly adopted state after reading my current governor’s piece in the New York Times, and I continue to be frustrated that a large portion of the Wisconsin recall war was funded by out of state donors.

I also couldn’t help but notice the disgust that welled up in my stomach after following the link to this headline: “Romney Tops Obama in May Fundraising.”  Why does this rather benign report on the national campaign get under my skin?  At the very root of it, the headline implies that the money raised has something to do with the likelihood of winning- that the cash of the candidate, rather than their character is what the American people will ultimately use to make their decisions.

“Success generates more success?”  Bullshit.  I’m not thrilled about either candidate- I find Romney outwardly scary and dangerous, and Obama to be mostly sneakier and more polished.  I’m sure you can guess who I’ll be voting for this fall- but it has nothing to do with who has more money in the bank (unless they are running their campaign on debt).  The party establishments would like to use all this cash to by my vote (and yours).  It is both sad and likely that this transaction will likely proceed in many homes around the country- people that don’t take a moment to stop and think about what a headline like this is really all about.  The notion that fundraising matters, that my vote depends on how many slick (or vicious) television ads I see, is a logical fallacy of popularity (“vote for the guy with more money- everyone’s doing it!).  I may not be happy about my choices, but the cash offer just doesn’t pencil out, so I’m not selling.

I don’t really care who you vote for so long as you look at the legislation they intend to introduce and accept what that legislation means to our population as a whole (does it endorse bigotry?  I’m not really about bigotry…).  And vote- make it to the friggin polls.  I didn’t get registered as a Montanan to vote in the primaries, but you can be damn sure that won’t be the case in November- I was sad to miss that deadline a few weeks ago, and admit my mistake here as motivation not to miss it again.  I’m also excited to congratulate two incredible women I am privileged to call friends – Kimberly Dudik and Jenifer Gursky, who have stepped into the arena of vying for public office, and won their primaries this week.  I feel much better knowing a few of the folks I believe will be representing my community in Helena next year.

14 Minutes

Leave a reply

“Skander, I bet we only have like 30 minutes until that storm hits.”
“Naw, it’s 8:45 now.  There’s no way we’ll be wet by 9:15.”

I spent last week desperate to climb, and despite a relatively obvious forecast (“heavy rain”), Jess and I were hiking up to the Starlight Lounge wall at Lost Horse Canyon on Saturday morning.   I had hoped the rain wouldn’t really kick until the afternoon, that seemed optimistic as we drove up to the trailhead.  Props to Jess for being a willing partner, and a much better judge of the weather- 14 minutes after our conversation, a steady drizzle enveloped the cliff face.  It was not the best start to the day.

Not sure whether Jess is indicating her opinion of the weather or my skills at forecasting it.

Jess was kind enough to oblige me by finishing the hike to the base of the cliff despite the steady precip.  Just at the base, the skies began to lighten, and we scrambled to get an up-valley vantage.  Clearing skies and warm temps got me thinking- “by the time we rack up, I bet this thing is dry…”  So we did, and it was.  I shot up the 5.8 we chose to warmup on, leaving several pieces of big gear on the ground.  Fast early season lesson- big cracks are always bigger than they look from the ground.

This picture just doesn’t really fit into any good day of climbing. Note the line of water marching down the valley.

Ultimately, it was fine, and “good training” for running it out and finding “odd” gear.  From the top I could see another system building up the valley, but it felt like we had more time.

The sun in the background is entirely deceiving.

We rapped off but left a top rope for this funky looking wide crack just next to the previous line.  The storm was moving fast. My ego told me I should lead the wide crack, but based on the previous experience, I took the top rope and figured out the route on top rope just in time to rap off before the rain hit.  And then it really hit, going back to the car suddenly became mandatory, we we’re sitting this one out.  It was clear and sunny by the time we got down, but another storm system was rolling through, so we grabbed some lunch and weighed our options.  A group of five other folks came off the cliff around the same time and we swapped stories about who was on what when it started getting wet.

Long story short, they were “the locals”, and also very friendly, and also literally lived in a climbing gym.  They were psyched to meet some new people, and quickly invited us back to town for some plastic pulling rather than rolling the dice with the weather.  As usual, the locals are STRONG.  Eric and Katie rent a 4,000s.f. warehouse, with a little partition for a bedroom, and a completely freestanding, multifaceted indoor wall covering about 1,000 s.f. of floor space.  They have plans to continue building out the rest of the space.  I admire their complete dedication to the sport, and they are equally strong, humble, and fun.  Getting to know them was a great way to salvage the afternoon- I look forward to linking up with them again soon.

Wanna get strong? These kids literally live in a gym…

The Winds

2 Replies

10 years ago I went to the Wind River range with two high school friends in search of “adventure”- suffice to say we found it.  We spent 12 days on our own in the range, and walked over 85 miles.  I drove back to Chicago in love with mountains, and determined to learn how to climb them.

A few days ago I made a new friend at the climbing gym, and we realized that we shared common dreams of that place in Wyoming.  I haven’t been back since that first trip, but the Winds have been in the back of my head for every climb and every trip since.  If you had told me then of all the places I would climb in the following 10 years, and how those early determinations would shape my life, I probably wouldn’t have believed you.

One of my early trad leads in a quarry outside of Stirling, Scotland. 2005

I’m missing a few photos in digital format from some other early experiences (Granite Peak, Montana and the Weminuche Wilderness in Colorado), but it was fun to dig up more of the early inspiration.

Few places inspire like the desert- Canyonlands National Park, Utah. 2005.

Loving the granite bouldering at Groom Creek, Arizona. 2007.

One of my first Cascade summits, Mt. Colchuck via the North Buttress Couloir. Alpine Lakes Wilderness, Washington. 2008

Sometimes I wonder why burn all the gas, why suffer all the training, but when I think of the friendships built, the photos taken, and the experience shared, there’s no doubt it’s worth it.

Flying prayer flags for a friend on the summit of Denali. Denali National Park, Alaska. 2009.

Eyes wide open on my first mixed climb. Hyalite Canyon, Montana. 2009.

Learning open-hand strength in Squamish, British Columbia. 2010.

The weather looks rough again this weekend and I’m fighting to keep my stoke up.  Tonight I got looking through a bunch of old photos- it’s fun to see where this journey has taken me, so I thought I’d share a quick history.

Stoked to ride an elephant, on Elephants Perch- Sawtooth Wilderness, Idaho. 2010.

Sometimes this feels a little lunatic- leading Lunatic Fringe, Yosemite National Park, California. 2011.

Finding far flung goods in Seusca, Colombia. 2011.

Taking it to the next level on Cleopatra’s Needle, Hyalite Canyon, Montana. 2012.

I think I’m finally ready to say it- I’m ready to go back to the Winds.  Hopefully my new friend can join me, but if nothing else, I can thank her for pushing the idea back to the front of my mind.

Stay Inspired

Leave a reply

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.

More Blog, Less Facebook

Leave a reply

Le Petit Outré Is a Missoula baking institution seeped in French tradition, and as I discovered this morning- the perfect place to watch European bike racing. The Giro d’Italia is on and it is pouring rain in Missoula today. The decor is sparse- no tables, no internet- just a large computer monitor propped up against a 6 ton brick oven. The croissants however, are unbeatable, and the espresso is Vivace from Seattle (one of my favorite roasters). At first, I was tempted to post a witty update on Facebook- but have noticed lately that I’m on that site too much, and not for the right reasons.

More blog, less Facebook. More reading, less skimming.  Why blog?  Why not Facebook? While I do love to hate Facebook, it serves a purpose in my life, and ultimately does help me feel more connected to many people that I care about but who are not in my immediate geography.  If you look at my Facebook page, you might start to understand some of who I am.  If you read this blog, you actually know who I am pretty damn well (granted, only because I choose to share more here).  I won’t pretend either blogging or Facebook can replace real human interaction, but it gets me thinking about what place these tools have in our lives.  What good is “a social network” or “user generated content?”  Why bother, why waste all the time?

I aspire to read more blogs, from my friends, from my heros, because they inspire me.  Even if I can’t have a conversation with these people, the transparency with which they share their lives, and the honest work with which they pursue their goals enriches my life, and encourages me to do the same.  Somehow, you don’t get that in a status update, the quality doesn’t come through.  As a result, I’ll be putting more effort into the blog, and hopefully spending a little less time on Facebook.

“Dedicated hard work yields honest worthwhile rewards.”

Place

2 Replies

As I described it last weekend, “I’m finally feeling stable, and now I just have to decide what to do with that.”  The statement feels almost ironic in light of a few mistakes I’ve made lately, but seemingly in line with my previous post- the mistakes only reveal the necessity of further commitment to core values.

A few weeks ago, my good friend Chris invited me back to Alaska for another amazing trip on the north side of Denali National Park.  This would not be technical climbing, but a true experience pushing our bodies packrafting and backpacking in deep wilderness.  He sent me the maps a few days later, and I took a look at the bank account. I think this works- maybe it feels like a stretch, but these are the things that I do, and perhaps even more, that I live for.  Monday night, I bought a plane ticket to Anchorage and started to dream of being up there again, in one of the great wild places.

Me and Chris at McGonagall Pass, June 2011.

Something was gnawing at me though- there was a doubt in my head, and something didn’t quite seem right.  Tuesday night at band rehearsal, it hit me.  I had committed to playing two gigs during the time I had just booked in Alaska.  The gigs were already booked- I had already committed to my friends and bandmates.  Chris’ dates were firm, so I was out of luck (fortunately AlaskaAir’s cancellation policy is relatively generous- for $75 you get back whatever you gave them…).

I was stunned, but it got me thinking.  My original plan for this summer was somewhat simpler.  I’m still living frugally, and trying to plan carefully for future financial goals.  My big goal for traveling right now is for January in Australia, and I was looking forward to a summer of exploring wild places much closer to home (that’s why I moved to Montana in the first place).  In my life, having fewer, simpler (but no less lofty) goals usually means I end up achieving more of them.  Bailing on a trip never feels good, but hopefully this might evidence a simple rule- you usually find what you go looking for.  Have I gone looking for the wild experience here, in the place I’m in?  Only a little bit.  Does it make sense to fly and drive 3,000 miles when I haven’t really spent much time in the wilderness 30 miles from my house?  Despite all the incredible experiences I’ve had in Alaska, maybe not this year. I think the experience is am important reminder that right now, I need to commit to the place that I am in and the people I am with.