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In The Arena
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?
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-
I can't wait for more.
Grin
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
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.
Lolo Pass Backcountry Skiing Day 2
Got out for some backcountry skiing with solid partners in Ross and Gwen. It was a warm, beautiful day, and as I will try to always do, here’s the video to our avalanche pit test, which I screwed up when I cut it (but that does say something about the snow stability). On the video I mention we had a collapse at CT13, but I should have said CT14 (if you count and watch the video…). Temps were warm (~35-40deg) and we were about 2 miles northwest of the Lolo Pass SnoPark (at an area I think called “the Gash”).
Slope aspect was 300deg northwest.
Slope angle was 26deg.
Strong layers observed at 30cm, 90cm, and 120cm. Be careful out there!
Gwen gets down to get the scoop on avalanche conditions.
Ross, Gwen, and Willow ready for a beautiful day of turns.
About to exercise good judgement.
The Hard Way, Part 1
(been working on this post for a while, look forward to Part 2 in the next few days!)
“We have met the enemy, and he is us.” (Walt Kelly)
Everyone loves to talk about tough economic times, like the economy is a nebulous, undefined malignant force- like it’s not our fault or something that just came upon us. Our economy is the product of what we have chosen, and what “the economy” does reflects the choices we have made. For the bulk of the industrial revolution (including now), “the economy” has responded to “the market” which responds to “price signals.” “Price signals” are based on what we buy; we create them (the price signals), we send them based on the choices that we make. In a perverse twist of fate, “the market” has responded to an attitude that says “cheaper is better, easier is better, faster is better”- that attitude is our own. Remember that the market is only responding to price signals that we sent, and thus, we ourselves have chosen to place a priority on faster, cheaper, and easier. We as a people have failed to stand up for quality, we have failed to pay the true cost of the lives that we lead. We have chosen not to take the hard way or do the hard work, and as a result we have a world that is buried in debt, smothered in pollution, and anchored in a feeling of helplessness.
My life has been different- when I learned to play music the biggest lesson was that good performance was the result of slow, deliberate, diligent practice. In climbing, achievement has been the result of regular training and slow incremental progress. Somehow when I look at our economic history I can’t help but notice that the “market signal” of cheaper, easier, faster has pushed us into a situation where the systems we have built will no longer sustain us. Our food is engineered to be tasty, manufactured to be cheap, and retains the false appearance of being available and abundant. “In 1950, 70% of food consumed in Montana was grown within the state… by 1989 it was 34%.” Why? Because cheap transportation costs and global competition made it easier and cheaper to buy imported food. Now, as energy prices and health problems rise, the easy way has suddenly made it impossible to feed ourselves.
I work in designing and building houses, and every day I see houses that are built with a goal of turning a quick profit rather than providing a safe, durable, energy-efficient place for a family to make a home. I feel fortunate to be working on these projects because the folks I work for understand building science, and usually get called in to fix other people’s mistakes. Somehow, Americans came to believe that making a profit in the housing market was a given, and we are determined to preserve that fallacy. A house can be a cheap shack, but a home involves science, time, investment, and care- these homes are rare, and I feel fortunate to get to be a part of them. Somehow in our society real abundance isn’t very abundant at all.
Do we have the political will and cultural discipline to chose harder options? Even if the Keystone XL pipeline provides 100 more years of oil, what’s the world going to look like in 2111? I believe that if our society is to survive, it will have to learn to choose the harder way. The easy choices were easy in the short term and disastrous in the long term. How can we cultivate our society to think and consider a longer term vision? We are not victims of what is available, we are victims of our own choices. With everything that I’ve ever done in my life, I’ve found that real value is only the result of hard work and consistent long term investment. This is a lesson that somehow I think much of America has missed. The experiences playing music and climbing remind me that taking the hard road is worth it.
Make your choices count.
Consider where you spend every last dollar.
The only real boundaries or barriers to affecting system-wide change are the ones we create in our own minds.
“There are no shortcuts for hard work.” (Mark Twight)
Sit Tight
I did not really get to play outside at all this weekend, that was unfortunate, especially because there was 3-5 feet of gorgeous fresh snow in the mountains to ski.
Oh yeah, there is a car under there... (taken after letting it melt for a day)
As I’ve mentioned before, my left foot is slowing me down, but in many other ways as well, this is a time for me to sit tight. I’m still just getting to know the people I feel comfortable going into the backcountry with. I’m still getting back to having some cash in the bank to play with. The weather hasn’t been compelling. I was selected to connect with the Missoula political community through an interesting group of people (the official website makes it seem cheesier than it actually is– but we’ll see how things go). I’m learning a lot about my job, about what my next job might be, and about how a job is related to making a living (because they are not the same thing). I might not like it, but this is a time where sitting tight is just the right thing to do for the moment.
I’ve been working hard to help heal my foot, so I didn’t get to swing my tools this weekend. After last weekend, and as I always do after ice climbing, I set out my screws to dry. They sit next to my bed, and next to the heater. I didn’t get around to putting them away for a few days but I realized I like seeing them when I wake up. I like seeing them when I don’t want to work out but know I should, or when I just spent 10 hours running around dusty, dirty jobsites. They motivate me, they remind me about that other place, and other thing that I do. They bring the focus back when I can’t make it out, when I have to sit tight.
Stay motivated.
They are elegant, simple things. I used to think I didn’t have enough ice screws, that I needed a few more before I could really get on “worthy” climbs with the few that I own. I have 10- 3 long ones, 3 medium ones, and 4 short ones, and this season I’m starting to realize that might be just enough for what I need. Thanks for the reminder, just a few more weeks my friends.
Passion
My friend Chris likes to remind himself (and me) that climbing is not his passion, but the relationships we form through climbing often are. I had a few great days of climbing this past weekend- working hard in the vertical seems to strip away the unimportant like nothing else can, and energize me for whatever comes next. “Climbing gives us so much, but when it takes, it takes big.” (Mark Westman)
A number of my friends are hurting today, and while I didn’t have the pleasure of knowing Jack Roberts, his first ascents dance in my head and his partners have shown me the ropes. I was sad to read of his death this morning.
Polar Circus, one of the greatest routes in the Canadian Rockies. FFA Jack Roberts and Dale Bard. RIP Jack.
Climbing has given me some of my best friends and strongest experiences. It continually teaches me new things about myself and others, and enables me to give the best of myself to the world like few other things can. Speaking of those who have not come back from the mountains, they would always say “go”- may their final lesson to us all be not to settle for less than our very best.
This past Saturday night I was playing my bass with some people and feeling antsy. Talk to Hannah to learn she had almost recovered from her cold, so at the last minute we made plans to climb Sunday morning. Happily, I finally got to tick the Graineater (70m, WI4, 2p)- the local classic is exactly that, classic. A few photos:
View from the trail.
For being so close to home, the line is pleasantly NOT small.
Just off the belay on p2, and into the business...
Stoked to tick this one off.
“Don’t worry about what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive and do that. Because what the world needs are people who have come alive.” (Howard Thurman)
Like We Stole It
One of the many posts I received for my last birthday still stands out to me- “Drive this year like you stole it, ’cause you did.” Even as life settles back into a more familiar rhythm, this idea sticks with me. Today felt a little like we stole it– or perhaps, like we got far more than we expected to get.
So I live in Montana and it’s January. Ice climbing, powder skiing, and winter camping debauchery are the expected activities, but when you have the right partner and a little bit of beta, sometimes you can get far, far more.
Welcome to clipping bolts while basking in the sun and playing with dogs:
South facing dark rock teaches an important lesson about solar heat gain...
Steve and I had joked about climbing outside sometime this week while pulling plastic at the local sweatshop last weekend. I was doubtful, but when my work schedule cleared off, and the forecast seemed to cooperate, Steve knew it was time for another visit to Mill Creek. Unlike last time, the sun was bright, the wind was absent, and the stoke was high. On the walk in, we joked that we might only get a few pitches, but once back in the canyon, Steve said “you wanna hit that four pitch thing I was talking about?”
Hell Yes.
So that’s what we did. Off the couch, onsite (for me), Steve and I enjoyed four glorious, warm, sunny pitches of bolt clipping and having fun (5.10b, 5.10d, 5.11a, 5.9). We rapped back down about 20 minutes before the sun dropped behind the ridge.
Steve making the most of the ledge atop pitch 3. Nice work on the crux buddy!
I got out of work, the weather was good, had a solid partner and beautiful terrain just an hour from my door? Feels kinda like we stole it…. or got far more than we deserved. I feel especially fortunate to have met Steve, who seems to be my favorite type of climber- smart, strong, and motivated, but who still puts having a good time at the top of the priorities list. Thanks dude.
Winter in Montana isn't all dark and cold after all.
stickthefeeling 