127 Minutes

I haven't read the book and dont know if I will. The movie might have been enough. Haven't spoken with the man its all based on either, so I have no reference to the film's accuracy. And as for Aron, the real person...?

We all have opinions, and, whether we mean to or not, we all pass judgment. What little information I have of Aron Ralston is from the news I heard at the time that featured bits and pieces of his story. And I remember wondering...why didn't he tell someone where he was going (thats so basic, I learned that in girl scouts - see, judgement!), was this bound to happen because he was cocky, and why didnt he just call his mom back for pete's sake?

I often cant explain in words my passion to be outside; climbing, hiking, skiing, biking, paddling, running. A few of those activities I love above the others, but any one will due when it comes down to it, as long as I can get out there. Groves of whispering aspen, forests of evergreens, mountains, salt water, wide stretching valleys....let me out to see and feel! Out there is where I feel alive and most like me.

But as a single person, I struggle to find consistent partners willing to get up at 4am to hike some snowy something-or-other, who desire to do these activities with passion of their own and want to push themselves to the level I do (not to say I'm any sort of wonder woman - I am not - I struggle equally finding partners who's level of pursuit I can step UP to meet). So, I often gone alone.

Though he pushed limits much farther than I ever will, am I any different from Aron? We are all similar in having a love of adventure, in wanting to accomplish something in our lives, in wanting to experience more of this world - in being unwilling to compromise opportunities even if it means doing them alone.

There has been a lot of chatter about the gruesome parts of this film. The best PR agency probably couldnt pay for publicity as intriguing as people passing out. But those scenes weren't the hardest for me. The hardest were the last ~10 minutes when he made his way out of the canyon. There was such hope, such human-ness. At that moment, my heart began to ache for his parents, for his sister and coworker and friends, for the people who wanted him back. And for him too, that he nearly didn't have the opportunity to see those people again.

Those last minutes were hard because, self-preservingly, I love my life and want to keep living it. But also, so many people I care about are out there too. And already, there have been too many who haven't made it home. Whatever you think of Aron, judgments aside, if nothing else, his story reminds me, that we should take better care. I, as someone who goes out alone, should take better care so that we make it home. Because we need to call our moms back and we have too much to accomplish tomorrow.

Lofty Ideals

What might the outdoor girl's ideal sunday night be made of? Simply combine a glass of Malbec, a crisp apple the size of a softball, the tastiest stinky cheese from De Laurenti, a classic climbing book and an epsom salts bath. After a weekend including the third battle in The War on the Tree I Hate and an eye-opening, awesome first day of skiing - eye opening for the deep, unexpected powder and realization just how much I need to practice beacon work and get these legs ready for the season - I figured I'd indulge in a little recovery.

Yes, I may be loving the relaxation that comes with recovery, but more than that, I'm loving my recharged motivation to get out again stat! The sooner I get after it hard, the sooner I can give myself the earned excuse to have another night like this.

Harness Your Inner Power Bird

Honestly, I cant remember the exact moment when it happened, but it was sometime early in the climbing season. It may have been up at Squamish or out at Vantage, but I know it was with my dear friend and climbing partner, Z. While the exact time and location are fuzzy, what has stayed very clear in my memory was my focus. Keeping my fears feeling as light and inconsequential as possible so as not to let them distract me, I pushed all my energy into breathing steady and deep, trusting my feet and continuing to look up.

There are lots of Power Birds in CoR.

It was while looking up, that I saw it. A wide-winged hawk, soared above me, from thermal to thermal, high above all other features of the land. I imagined myself inside the mind of that hawk; no fear over being so high in up, only love for the view, for the exhilaration from feeling the air moving through its feathers, for the fun of diving and twirling its body to soar fast, slow, high or, (channeling Dr. Suess) low. And calm came over me.

The incredible effort I had been putting forth to suppress fear and lift my confidence seemed like overkill. Climbing higher and higher, visions of my hawk friend filled my brain leaving me smiling, giggling at my own ability to "soar" up the rock, the strength and almost grace of my movements - I felt so peaceful and so powerful! You see, all I had to do was harness my inner Power Bird.

Holy smokes, that was a new feeling on rock!

While I dont remember all the details. I do remember at some point nearly shouting like the dorky goofball that I am, to Z to, "Harness your inner power bird!" Though I hadn't really been looking for it, I'd found my "spirit" animal.

As cheesy as it is, every time I climb now I'm always on the lookout. It might be a hawk again, or a crow or sparrow, or when I'm most lucky, a hummingbird (I superstitiously take these as the greatest of all omens bringing me love and wonderful messages). Whenever that tickle of fear starts in at the back of my brain (always), it never fails that I look up and some power bird is soaring overhead, having come to remind me of my own potential - if I choose to accept it.

Perhaps you have your own power "animal"; maybe its a zippy chipmunk (they're great climbers, esp when chased by Mailes!), a sticky footed beetle, words from a friend who always believes in you, or even a completely inanimate object like, oh, hmmm... like your puffy jacket. Whatever it is, power "animals" have magic to work. Harness your inner power bird, then let her go and watch her fly!

A Case of the Blues

A bit of the blues

Robin's Egg. Glace. Tarn. Cielo. Crystal. Opal. Juniper Berry. Polar. Cloud. Cobalt. Iceberg... 

Last time I was on the Coleman Glacier, almost a year ago to the day, I was confident I'd never come back to do the same activity again. But there I was, having finished a hike that started in the dark of predawn, back at the edge of the glacier to do exactly what I said I wouldn't repeat. Despite my love of the vertical, my primeval self prefers terra firma. I can win most cases with that inner cave-dweller when arguing the safety of climbing rock. Gear, when placed well, will most likely hold if I fall. Climbing ice on the other hand requires an entirely different argument that I dont know how to win yet.

I'm not entirely sure why I thought it would be a better idea the second time around. But there I was. Jason Wheeler had offered to do another Intro to Ice Clinic for us and, before I even had the chance to debate with myself, I'd jumped on board.

Following the Jasons onto the Coleman

Perhaps I jumped because I cant resist any opportunity to get into the mountains. Perhaps because I verge on being a cheap dirtbagger and cant say "no" to free instruction. Perhaps because it gave me another opportunity to learn from one of my favorite instructors and climbing friends (Jason teaches through BC mountaineers and the ACC - I HIGHLY recommend you look him up if you want to learn climbing skills. He is the most patient, fun, thorough, confidence-boosting and tall! instructors; and its obvious he loves to teach). 

Whatever the reason was for saying "yes", it was Saturday morning, I was at the edge of the glacier, fighting a mean head cold after a 4am wake up and a 2.5hr drive in the darkness with only my marginally brewed coffee and a gas station doughnut to get me going. The thought "Why again do I do this"? teased my brain.

Why am I doing an activity I swore off 352 days ago? Why did I wake before the sun, on purpose! while most, including my dog, were still tucked cozy and warm into bed? Why, with a stuffy nose and sore throat, did I knowingly hike through the cold drizzle while carrying a heavy pack? Why was I putting myself in a position where I could fall with serious consequences potentially including stuck crampons and legs that shouldnt bend certain ways or chunks of ice the size of the warm pillow I left behind taken to the face? (I'm so good at the "why's?" - I must've asked a LOT of questions as a kid; sorry Mom and Dad) My cave dweller was winning.

Hiiiiiyah!

But then at the edge of the glacier, the drizzle stopped and the clouds let hints of sky peek through. Sipping hot tea from my thermos, more shared jokes from the Jason's left me smiling while we took a quick break (the "Jason's" being instructor Jason and coworker/friend/instructee Jason). Then with the comforting feel of my harness securely cinched around my waist, crampons were strapped on, we tied in, and moved away from the edge onto the glacier. That's when I remembered why and when the blues started filling my head.

How many words can describe the different shades of white and blue that color a glacier? Changing light yields different hues, unveiling a multitude of features and textures to this living, moving beast of snow and ice.  Horizon. Mist. Snow cone! Mediterranean. Seagull. Azure....

I could tell you all the details of the day...Relearning how to use crampons in vertical ice (challenging). The strain in my arms until I figured those feet out (burning). Feeling incredible strength and power of my body when moving up vertical, slightly overhanging ice (wonder woman, hiiiiyah!). The excitement of seeing a friend try a completely new sport. The lingo and tricks I learned; "ooeys", "dinner plates", the necessity of nutter-butters...These little nuggets of goodness are, well, good.

Our fearless teacher helping us off down the seracs

But what I remember most is finding that thing I sought at the edge of the glacier; that thing that keeps me coming back. Its the camaraderie and fun shared between me and my companions. The satisfaction of knowing I can meet a challenge head on and the feeling of success in my body, mind, and heart at the end of the day (whatever "success" is; the top, the attempt, the new knowledge). The incredible beauty that my eyes beg to absorb from every direction, that no camera will ever do justice to, that only my mind can remember as it should be.

We all have our own reasons for getting out there. Next time I will remember mine and wont hesitate to debate the cave dweller who says "no." The arguments of potential pain, failure, discomfort, fear lose completely, and every time, to the arguments that say "yes."

Oh, and the number of words to describe the blue and white? Endless....

A Lovely Love Affair

I know, I know; I said love. Its a mushy, squishy, sometimes lovely, and sometimes uncomfortable, cringe-inducing word. 

Dont worry. I wont make you blush. I'm simply in the deepest love with my climbing shoes.

Admittedly, I'm a gear junky. For example, most folks may have one, maybe two puffys for the spectrum of their adventures. But when you work in this industry and for a great company that features new colors of your favorite puffy every fall (this year in berry!!) and a new girlie version of the best uber-cozy, ideal-on-rainier puffy well, its hard not to suddenly up the count in your closet to (please dont judge) six. I often cave to the "shiny-and-new" but gear comes and goes so quickly in this highly competitive industry that its hard to get attached to any one thing before its lost its luster.

Until now.

At the start, I was unsure of this relationship. I had my eye on an entirely different shoe but the great folks at Second Ascent didn't have it in my size. The helpful sales guy didn't give up playing matchmaker and steered me towards Scarpa's Thunder. They fit well, but I was a bit turned off by the cumbersome laces vs. speedy velcro that I sought and the dull grey, last-season color.

Love, In The Color Gray

Edging, friction, solid precision, and a snug fit that didnt allow the shoe to slide around my foot in crack and on tiny features of technical routes but with enough comfort for long days.... all qualities of a perfect shoe that I didn't think existed. Though I wasn't sure if they were aggressive enough, the Thunders seemed to have quite a bit of what I wanted. And, its hard to find a shoe that even fits my foot; wide toe-box, narrow heel, short achilles, and sensitive big-toe joint. These fit and they were on sale. Hesitant but hoping for the best, I took them home with me.

A few days later I found myself at the climbing gym for break-in session #1 with the Thunders. At first a little nervous, worry melted away after the first climb and a lightning bolt of love shot through my heart. 

A month of fairly consistent climbing and they've ever-so-slightly molded to my feet for longer-wearing comfort without losing the snug fit for feeling small features. On Straight Shooter, it was easy to toe into the small crack with good purchase. Secure, solid smearing of rough sandstone a few days later, I felt confident on my feet despite my road-trip hangover. And much to the annoyance of my climbing party, I could not quit shouting "I love my shoes!" How can a girl do otherwise when her heart is soaring?

Though they're a moderate shoe - probably not aggressive enough for 5.11+ climbing - I have a better ability to feel with my feet and more confidence in my footwork than I've had in quite a while. They've ticked off every one of the "requirements" from my list. 

We're a match made in heaven, my Thunders and me. And even now, after enough use that they're starting to violate the 3-foot rule, I'm still in love.