The Question of Hope

In the past couple months, I have begun a number of blog posts that never fleshed out or made it beyond a free form writing exercise. Forgive me, dear reader, for not having the thoroughness and humility to share these musings. This serves as a metaphor for my life right now. Unrealized, unsure, discontent, my life doesn't have the same flare and sex appeal of a wandering climber philosopher. I am in transition. I assist a carpenter for a living, spend a lot of time at home, and often wonder "what next?"

I don't have an answer to this question, but I have hope. I am confident that I will find my way. I have hope, because I have love, health, and freedom.

Looking at all that I have accomplished in the last year, I see so much positive momentum. Reflecting on my relationships, the dreams I have realized as a climber, and as a young man. Yet, there are times when I am working away at some mindless task like masking ceilings or laying tile, and I think about what it means to be successful. Tiptoeing on a ladder as I tape plastic to a wall, I imagine my friends and family watching me and wonder; what would they think? Did I waste my time in college? Is my potential draining away?

These questions seem sort of depressing, but then I remember a list of 100 dreams I wrote for English class when I was in high school. Next to graduating college, and learning martial arts, building my own house is something I have always wanted to do. So here I am, learning how to run a table saw, because it is one step in a long complicated journey. The path ahead of me is a great mystery, but it is my mystery, my adventure. In my meditation, picturing my loved ones, I see them smile, and I know they see reasons to be proud of me. So, my hope keeps me going. This week I am going to learn how to install wood floors, and after that, who knows? Hopefully, I get to see another week.

A Palette for Fear

Scary memories from my last big aid climb

Hiking in to the base of Mt. Moroni, in Zion Canyon, I was uneasy about my intended climb, Crack in the Cosmic Egg. I am nearing the end of a long climbing trip, I have had many successful climbs, seen some amazing places, and I was aware in a shift in my anticipation. I was concerned about getting hurt, I was not looking forward to balancing on tiny hooks and cams to ascend the thousand-foot wall, and I simply didn’t have my heart in it. I didn’t share any of this with my partner, BJ, but he had commented on my extra attention to the gear list, and my lack of sleep. I agreed to take the harder pitches and left the ground, despite my misgivings. I managed to place a small piece of protection in the first ten feet, but I was gripped. Teetering over a piece of gear in the crack not wider than a couple of quarters, I lost my cool. My breath was shallow, my leg was shaking, and I felt scared. I have climbed dozens of long, hard routes in Zion, been in situations where a fall could kill me, and have always prided myself for being headstrong. Now, back in the place where I had learned how to really climb, I was falling apart. I reached up to an edge I hoped would be better, shuffled my feet to regain balance, and then I fell. I fell when I should not have. I had enough time to think “I am falling and I am going to get hurt,” as I watched my protection (a size zero TCU) shift and buckle as the rope went taught. Somehow, it held my weight. I stopped softly 5 feet from the ground and by the look on my face, BJ knew to lower me quick before my fear was realized, and I got sent tumbling down the rock slope below.

Fear has many flavors. Looking up at Crack in the Cosmic Egg, beyond the hard moves that had just throttled me was four hundred feet of thin difficult aid climbing, and it put a bad taste in my mouth. I spent a moment trying to control my breathing, and working to stop my hands from shaking, but I couldn’t get rid of the fear. It was a new flavor to me, it was unlike the fear that pushes me to fight on and focus on every tiny handhold above an old rusted bolt, or fear of getting stuck on a wall at night. There is fear that sharpens my edge, but watching the sunrise in Zion at the base Mt. Moroni, I felt dull.

I spoke with BJ about all this. It is an experience I think all people face from time to time. We have off days, we fall short of our expectations, and we can be very hard on ourselves. A friend told me she was proud of me for honoring the fear, and I see it as an important seasoning experience as a climber. I have been on the other side of this many times, telling people to readjust their expectations, but it is not easy. I like being the guy who can climb anything, anytime, anywhere, but I have to recognize my limits.

There are many reasons for feeling off, the accumulation of emotional stress from other parts of my life, the reality of not being able to always perform at my best, and simply not being motivated. It acts as a reminder to not be too hard on myself, to trust my heart, and to focus on the journey and not the destination.

BJ and I spent a fair bit of time talking, at the base of the route, from climbing to relationships, it seems that this experience has some far reaching lessons. Finally, we packed up and went out for a fun climb on the other side of the park (a 5.7 on Checkerboard Mesa) that still had some tense moments, but also a great deal of laughter and amazing terrain. I came back in one piece, got some quality time with a dear friend, and was able to explore new emotional and physical terrain.

Zion has an amazing power to confront people with their fears, and seems to reveal one's true nature. I for one, am humbled, inspired, and grateful for my experience here.

live close.

A lot like cake...

Do you have a favorite type of cake?

Imagine a large piece of your favorite cake set out in front of you.

The desire to put that piece of cake in your mouth is how I feel about putting my fingers into a parallel sided crack. The word is splitter.

This is why I climb.

Cascadia

In the past couple months I have become terribly addicted to exploring the Cascade Mountains of Washington. The mountains are dramatic, and the climbing is in your face. After another weekend in the shadow of Mt. Index, I can't wait to go back for more of the seemingly masochistic experience of struggling against gravity and granite. From Princely Ambitions (5.9) to Japanese Gardens (5.11c) there are no easy ways up. Everything seems so wild, steep, and painful. The adventures outside Leavenworth have been grand in a very different way. Approaching the climbs has been as frustrating as it is beautiful. The Cascades continue to excite my imagination and promise endless exploration.

Testing every crack climbing technique and finishing
with a wild overhang

The Warrior (5.10+) is a striking line tucked high
above Icicle Creek in Washington

Things are building towards a summer that I have dreamed of for a long time. After flirting with the idea of coming out of retirement, I decided to take another tour of the west, and continue my nomadic lifestyle. The standards have been set high for good company, food, and SUMMIT PARTIES. Next on the list is  Squamish, British Columbia, where I have anticipated climbing the Chief for years. I can't wait to see what will unfold...

live close.

live free. live close.

What do soccer moms, rock climbers, and Chuck Norris all have in common?

It is not world class martial arts skills, these are people that all demand a lot from their pants. Pants that allow dynamic movement, without embarrassing rips or tears.

Dear reader, my quest for the ultimate climbing pant was often frustrating, but I did not give up until I found apparel with equal parts fashion, durability, and mobility.

In my darkest moment, I was struck with inspiration like a roundhouse kick to my head. An old advertisement from Black Belt Magazine for "Action Jeans" contained the answer to my prayers. The advertisement claims they won't bind your legs because of the gusseted crotch and spandex content of the fabric. This led me into unexpected terrain. The prize of my quest was not located in a locking glass case, but amidst a sea of denim in the women's clothing section of my local thrift store. Noted for the generous fit, modest waist line, and stretch denim, the pants that do it all, are in fact, "Mom Jeans".

Mom Jeans are nearly identical to Action Jeans in all but their application. Skateboarders, break dancers, and all the other movers and shakers need not suffer any longer. The only pant that can meet the demands of your active lifestyle is waiting for you. Put your ego aside, dare to try on women's pants, and find freedom like you have never known.

Can you do this in your pants?

The Sharp End

 
This sequence captures me taking a ride at a secret purple cave in the Cascades. I fell on this part over and over again. After an hour, I had to admit defeat. Watched Steven climb it like a fly, sticking to the wall, and decided to give it another try. The last few moves took every last bit of power. An exercise in redefining my limits.

Clear Cut (5.11c?) follows a striking line across the rock. The climbing, all along the wall, is improbable and gymnastic. I will be back...

Sometimes I imagine that I have things in order. Finding contentment in the notion that things are tight and safe. It seems that even when I believe I am in control, the truth is, I couldn't be more vulnerable. It could all fall apart no matter how good at planning I am. It took some practice, but being transient and honest about my lack of security and control, has carried me to some amazing places.

My last few days have been the type that capture the spirit of going with the flow. Climbing in the wild and vast valley of Yosemite was just the beginning. The company at the historic walk-in campground, Camp 4, proved to be a great smattering of fun, musical, inspired, and interesting people. I arrived with my bag of clothes, climbing gear, and food and few expectations. Being open to the opportunities of the week brought me to great experiences and back to San Francisco. What's next?

200ft rope swing at the base of El Capitan. Why not?

Worth noting was the largest swing I have ridden (and I have been on some pretty baller swings), watching Half Dome glowing in red sunset, and tramping through the Cathedral Canyon descent after climbing the East Buttress of Middle Cathedral.

Live Close.

Going Back to Cali

I have been in San Diego for a week today. Yesterday, I was riding in my friends car, listening to Norious BIG rap about going back to Cali, and I was filled with gratitude and love.

I have had a great time here, but it took a bit to realize what San Diego is all about. The landscape did not immediately endear me to the city. I do not love the desert, climate, but the Pacific is always there, reminding me with her cool breeze. Walking along the beach, or out knocking around the city at night, I have encountered some interesting characters. Just watching the interactions and the costumes entertains me for hours. Somewhere between afterwork (Erik's work, that it) bouldering in Santee and an early morning surf at "The Bone Yard", I came around to the idea that San Diego is an amazing place (to visit).

Next, I am off to Yosemite. By the end of the week I will be back in one of my favorite places in the world. Yosemite Valley has a feeling of majesty like nowhere else. The shape and scale makes climbing in Yosemite feel like a religious experience. My goal is to climb fun routes, recharge my qi lying in the shadow of El Capitan, and make the most of what may be my last adventure in California for some time.

I have a lot of anticipation about the coming months. I have a place to live in downtown Seattle for July and August, at which point, I could depart for any number of cities depending on what, if any, teaching jobs I am offered. I may also end up staying and studying teaching in Seattle. I look forward to seeing what is revealed, and to sharing all that happens on this crazy ride.

Until later...
Calvino

Never Homeless

This blog post is about realizing my childhood dream of having a sleep-over every night.

For more than 6 months I have not had a permanent home. I have made my bed on couches, floors, campsites, backyards, parking lots, and a trampoline.

In the past 200 days, I have flown in and out of airports in Chicago, Seattle, Las Vegas, Mexico City, Monterrey, San Jose, Denver, Bellingham, and San Diego. I have also driven nearly 10,000 miles in my 2003 Honda CRV ("Sally Mustang"). What I want to illustrate, is the scale of this transition period in my life. I have covered a lot of ground physically, mentally, and emotionally.

The basis for this transition period seems to be: what do I want?  This is a simple question with very complicated answers. To make it a bit more digestible I am focusing on who, what, and where. I want to have a committed relationship, but I need to face my fear of bringing another person close to me. I want to find a job that will utilize my talents and gifts, but I also want to work outdoors, make decent money, and have time to travel (these things rarely intersect). Lastly, I want a strong community, yet, all my favorite people do not live anywhere close to one another.

Finding some perspective at Toroweap, Grand Canyon

Being the kind of guy that wants to apply a solution to a problem, I get frustrated by the unsolvable nature of my dilemma. My "plan" is vague, to say the least. I content myself with celebrating the little moments of each day and trying to be patient. Finding where I will live next, applying for jobs, making phone calls, and keeping some forward momentum, counts for a lot. It is easy to get down on myself thinking about how long it may take to find what I want. Every morning, I remind myself to be thankful for what I have and not get too stressed about the unknown.

Having a sleep-over every night is my reality right now, and it is great fun. The most important lesson I am drawing from this is to be present, and not worry about things outside my control. I will not and cannot be transient forever, but I am thankful for friends who are excited to have me stay with them, for good food and drinks, and laughter.

One Car Full

My life still fits in my 2003 Honda CRV. It feels so clean, so light, and so simple.

The things I carried with me to Utah four years ago are very different than the things I brought with me back to Washington. I think about who I was then, and all the experiences of my time in the desert. In all these things I have sought to push myself. To see the world unencumbered and to live close.

To live close is to be true, to speak from the heart, to live freely.