Confessions of a Glutton

"Do you have any extra room in your pack?," my roommate asked in a breathless voice punctuated with a bit of urgency - it was late after all on the night before my departure. "Do you have just a little bit of room?"

Well, sure.  I'm a pretty efficient packer. So, "yes", I replied as I skimmed my packing list for last minute essentials that I may have forgotten at this late stage of prep.

"I have a blessing for you..." My sweet friend had carried a wish back with her from Nepal, a trip she took last fall before I was lucky enough to meet her. My blessing, carried so far, is so simple and beautiful; a few pieces of rice wrapped in paper and carefully closed with bright colorful thread. To be honest, I dont know if there is meaning to the colors of thread or the way its wrapped. I dont know if the paper holds special significance. I'm not even sure, really if there is actually rice in there since I cant quite feel it through all the paper.

I could, however, read the words of the prayer written by Lama Geshe from Pangpoche:

"Give up all intention to harm others from your heart
And do your best to benefit them all
If each and everyone feels the universal responsibility to do so, 
We will all enjoy the feast of peace."


Hmm. I also knew the love that carried the blessing from my friend's hands to mine, and that carefully watched my blessing be placed in a special spot in my pack. From one climber to another were passed the hopes for safe travel, for success, and most of all, for an amazing experience to mark a significant moment in life. Sara's small gesture was a nugget of strength that helped me climb to over 14,400' this past Friday. (little did she know, those 10 months ago in Nepal, that this little package would be so important to an then-unknown girl on a glacier, high in the sky - i love unexpected connections like this.)

Two days later, as I made my way with my team and our amazing guides, from Paradise to Muir, we passed a number of groups enjoying the bluebird day and the views the mountain had to share. One family made a big deal of moving to the side - "look, climbers!!" I almost felt like a celebrity *blush, blush* - a little pride glowing at my hope to summit. As we passed, the father asked, "how far will you go?" "To the top!" one of my teammates replied. "Well, then I'll toast your trip with a glass of wine tonight," the father replied. And just like that, another blessing was passed our way.

To many folks who see the mountain on a daily basis (or whenever it chooses to show itself), it is simply a backdrop, a local icon, something they will only look at but never set foot on. And on the flipside, Mt Rainier, to many climbers is not a colossus. But this volcano that I've lived in site of nearly all my life was a challenge unlike any other I'd previously taken. And one I'd only been offered 4 weeks prior - and I was intimidated. I like my life. I didnt want it cut short by some hungry crevasse or a resident, fire-breathing dragon, who perhaps goes by the name Wade Olsen.

Over the course of the 2 days prior to our summit, I was gifted other pieces of goodness to pack away and carry with me by unknowing givers; the camaraderie of my team, the most perfectly golden pancakes cooked up by our guides with hot cinnamon-y coffee to chase them down, duct tape stuck to sensitive spots on my feet, shared snickers bars (which, folks, let me tell ya, they mean a LOT at 10,000'), and conversations with other climbers at various stages of their own climbs. Little things that could be taken with a grain of salt (or rice) but all added up to little wishes of goodness for the climb that helped ease my nerves.

After we successfully summited on a most beautiful day, we encountered other day-trippers near Paradise who asked how far we went? did we succeed? and then responded to our replies with congratulations, cheers and in one case, applause even.

What generosity. And kindness. From everyone - strangers, old friends, new friends. Like the encouraging words of Sara's blessing, the days of the climb were a few brief moments where we feasted on peace. And they served as a reminder why it is I do this sort of thing. Why I choose to climb steep rock, travel trails through forest, and in this case, summit a tall volcano. It seems, outside the regular, rat-race day-to-day, the best in people shines through. And I just cant help it but I'm a glutton for the goodness I find in the people I'm lucky enough to meet along the way.

Back in the Day...

The day of March 13th, to be exact, I'd just arrived in the sunny city of sin to gamble. I wasnt putting my hard earned green backs on the line but was betting a bit of skill and pride on some beautiful, red sandstone. Anxiousness reigned - would I come out ahead, break even, or find myself in a deficit?

It was my first visit to Red Rock Canyon, and as we drove down Charlestown Blvd towards the park, I felt anticipation amp up as my jaw hit the floor. How was it that I'd traveled to Vegas a number of times before but never knew this incredible place was only a short drive from the strip? (guess i should've laid off the tom collins's...)

My good friend, patient climbing partner, and coworker - and the reason I was even there - Herr Folk had prepped me on what to expect from the rock and after an early flight and hearty breakfast, we were pulling into Calico Canyon. Wind that tried to barrel us over and nearly took limbs off by forcefully slamming car doors couldnt stop me! I wanted to get on that rock!  Letting Herr Folk take first lead, I watched as he climbed higher, and higher, and higher...Oye. Couldnt we have started on something a little, ahem... shorter? A few pitches in, including one gentle lead by yours truly and I really felt like the cobwebs might be shaking off.

So wrong, little grasshopper.

A day later, in Mesculito Canyon, nerves nearly got the better of me as I barely pulled a 5.7 trad pitch. It took quite a bit of cursing (i know, i know... i thought i was angelic too. apparently, i'm more like a sailor), a few roughly grunted "watch me's!" and some terrified "taking" at the most gigantic ledge-like rests, I topped out. Honestly, it was brutal. I was hot, tired, sniffly from a cold. And I was really, really scared. I began to wonder if this climbing schiznit was really for me. Maybe I'm not built for this? Maybe, I should stay the ever-enthusiastic follower, happy to belay her leader wherever they want to go - as long as I can safely stick with pulling gear, not placing it? Maybe I'm not ready to play with the big boys and girls who are willing to take risk? Maybe, I never will be. Ugh. There was no "maybe" about hating that feeling.

Oh, March. How long ago you are! (thankfully)

Another day, the opportunity to climb with some SLC friends who let me be middle on a couple of longer climbs in Mesculito gave me a new sense of nervous confidence. And I was mercilessly teased for being a sandbagger, and for not being able to heckle (still working on that.). Sandbagger? Me?!  I had the strength in arms and feet, a bit of balance and finesse to keep up, but the head? No sandbagging here boys, that part of me was still back in primary school of climbing.

My last full day, I was lucky enough to participate in a clinic at the Rendezvous. (I'm incredibly lucky to work a company that not only supports my hobbies personally, but occasionally sends me out on mini-adventures to do them as part of my job.). I'd been sent to the Red Rock Rendezvous to help out Senor Folk and had been granted a precious afternoon with one of our athletes, Sarah Hueniken. She's an incredibly kind and kickass guide from Canmore and was teaching a clinic on anchors and gear placement for women. I got to mock-lead, then rappel down with her as she examined my gear. The verdict? It was all solid, all fall-worthy. A few small recommendations, but overall, her take: gear is good, confidence? well, honey, that's what needs the work.

I left, having had an incredible experience, surrounded by amazing people who also happen to be inspiring climbers. I pushed my limits and was scared out of my gourd! And I realized, though it may have taken a fellow female climber to point it out, that I actually can bring it to the table, if I only have the guts to believe in myself.

So I took that 2cents to heart, and I'm starting to ues it. And I'm seeing just how much more I can throw down. The year of climbing. So far, so good.


PS - still havent figured out the quote biz.... so, 1. Herr Folk nearly getting blown over, 2. Giving me the "what the heck, scared sister?" stare down in Mesculito Canyon, 3. A good game for determining the leader played out by Jesse and Shingo, 4. Sarah sharing her superwoman knowledge with us

De-Seattle-izing the Approach

I'm trying hard to relearn my take on dealing with situations; learning to cut to the chase rather than passive aggressively beating around the bush in classic Seattle style. I'm a born Seattleite after all, so this is a bit of a challenge.  But with that in mind, here's the deal... Most people who climb with me know the routine. We get to the rock. I'm psyched!!! I'm feeling strong. I can do this!! And I'm gonna love it.

And then.

I hit an arete, a windy, airy exposure like the one in that photo, or a run out. And. I. Freeze. Scared shitless to day-ruining degrees. I could give you my classic line - I started climbing to get over a fear of heights...blah blah blah. But lets cut the BS - its been 7 years. Its finally time to quit with the passive aggressiveness (or whatever you want to all it) and step up.

Turns out, I climb quite well. Having been a swimmer for a long time, I have "those" shoulders and arms and I'm happy on rock when I can use them. I love the feeling of getting a sequence, of dancing on rock. I especially love climbing when I have a top rope coming down to me. The love of leading has been harder to nurture. Its really more of a love-hate relationship. I love to climb, hate the thought of falling. Just ask my dear climbing partner Zanetka who recently laughed after I shot her the "are you effing kidding me?" look when I was asked to just Fall. And it was during falling practice, so I knew I was going to have to let go at some point. See, the problem is I dont trust myself or, maybe better confessed, dont have the confidence to trust myself.

So, in similar fashion to a day 7 years ago when I decided a fear of heights was dumb and I'd better get over it by getting high up, I've decided this silly lack of confidence is gonna have to go, too. The time has come to get over it. So here I am in the middle of my self appointed Year of Climbing. Time to step it up, cut out the passive aggressive bullshit and make it happen. I'll keep you posted. So far so good - I've got some catching up to do on this end, but already, as of July 1 when I hit the post button, I'm on my way. And I must admit, the love is growing. Happy climbing.