An Intro to Seracs, Where the Ice is Milky Blue

Back in college, when snow dumped in Bellingham we would stealthily conceal dining hall trays under our big winter coats and sneaky-like, tip-toe them out. If you haven’t tried it yet, a plastic lunch tray makes a fantastic sled for flying fast down any slope, gradual or steep. The steeper the better of course. Something about that rigid polycarbonate surface made even the lightest wisp of a college coed fly!


Wearing plastic mountaineering boots for the first time had a very similar feeling, though I didn’t quite get that same sledding-induced thrill as I carefully negotiated my way across slippery river rocks and high flowing water. My body isn’t quite so quick to heal after minor impacts with rocks, trees, and other people like it was when I was a gumby-like 19year old.

Our trip out to the Coleman Glacier with Jason Wheeler was also my first trip in crampons, first time wielding an ice ax, and first time scaling a wall on an icy serac. Can’t say I’ve scaled a wall of ice before, serac or otherwise. I would’ve found a way to go around.

I’m a rock climber and a skier. I’ve snowshoed plenty, scrambled a lot. I’m no badass Lynn Hill or Ingrid Backstrom, but I feel comfortable doing most outdoor activities and felt all these experiences would give me a bit of a leg up on learning to ice climb. This day, however, was a serious ego check. And despite Jason’s incredibly patient and thorough instruction, I spent the day re-learning how to use my body despite any experience I may have. Crampons are not nearly as intuitive as I expected – I still don’t get how to tork my ankles when traversing a slope (it’s seriously unnatural). My rock experience didn’t help me grasp moving on ice and I pumped out almost instantly. I am awed by Jason and his brethren of ice, who climb not only smooth, straight, uncomplicated ice, but anything mixed – how does the brain and body compute that into upward motion?



ChitChitTHWOP! Towards the end of the afternoon, despite tired, overgripping arms, I seemed to be consistently finding purchase in the ice with my tools. My saving grace being a bit of upper body strength (I once won an entirely inconsequential pull-up contest, dontcha know). “Perhaps I’m actually getting this,” I thought as I sipped my rum n’tea for a bit of pre-descent warmth. Standing a little straighter, nose-over-toes, stepping a little more confidently, less tension in my arms gripping the ax, I began to feel like maybe this plastic-crampon-ax-mountain-glacier thing really wasn’t all that hard.

The end of the day neared, light softened on the ridge tops and crampons came off as we exited the glacier, hitting the trail back to the easy comfort of a car seat. A day on the ice in crampons seemed to make the hike out in only plastics feel easy. Easy! I continued these confident, new thoughts…”someday I could be good at this. And maybe, I’ll start climbing big water ice! And go to places like Banff! And Canmore! And..” PHWOOOP! An instant later, feet flying above my head, butt very solidly smacking into the dirt, and my ego bruised a little worse, daydreams of Canadian ice melted as fast as a popsicle in a heatwave in hawaii. My friends might have had good advice when they recommended practicing in boots and crampons in my backyard before hitting a glacier. This is not nearly as easy as stealing dining hall trays.

Me, attempting to stem across and find purchase in the ice. Heels down!

The long hike out, just beginning. Thank goodness for dairy milk and pepperoni sticks!

how do i slow thee?

i brought a significant amount of work home this weekend. not that i should be working on the weekends- i try hard to separate work and life- but sometimes sanity demands it and this is gonna be one of those weeks. but despite what i know i need to do...distractions appear aplenty...1. clean dog. 2. eat pumpkin pie with roommate and update on each others weekends events. 3. take down light fixture in bedroom and clean it. 4. shuffle paperwork that needs attention. 5. pause to ruminate on bono's amazing voice. try to be so present with bono's voice that maybe i'll get lucky enough for him to appear in my dreams tonight. 6. clean fingernails from a weekend of attempting to build fires, filling hot tubs, and tossing rocks into a river.... 7. curse computer for its microscopic memory and inability to run 2 programs at once. 8. have an internal debate about dating in ones 20's vs 30's and if it really has gotten any better or if im just trying to make myself feel less like brigit jones. 9. try to figure out how to uncheck whatever button i checked that flags my own blog for objectional content. dont think doughnuts are that sketchy. whoops. 10. wonder how its already after 10 and my work to-do list is still as long...see how easy this is? see.too bad work cant do itself sometimes...

In Search of Frosting

A recent trip to Portland sent me on a quest for cake and frosting and a little voodoo magic.

Goodness. Gracious.

Happiness is frosted dough

South bound

Leavin on a midnight train to georgia...or a morning train to portland.

Air is My Cushion

(aaron and the giant fishhook,
what can we catch in that cave?)

I'm not a fan of heights. They often terrify me. Which is the exact reason why I decided to start rock climbing. "What a silly fear," I thought. "Why dont I self-propel myself to high, exposed places where, without proper gear and skills, I could fall and most likely die!"


So here I am, 6-ish years down the road, having given hours, $$, skin on my hands and knees, etc. to conquer this fear. I do, actually, love climbing purely for the feel of the rock and the route and of my body as I finds my way up these routes. And, for the payoff of unbelievable views at the top. But, I haven't gotten over the fear yet, not entirely.

(my legs look oddly tiny...must
be my mega climbing guns! ha!)

But, I did win a mini-battle on Sunday, out at Index after 10 months off. Toxic Shock out at Index. We warmed up on Great Northern Slab - a comfy 5.6. I got to follow the whole way thanks to my super duper climbing partner, Aaron and was feeling confident. It was a beautiful fall day, I had the best company, and it felt so good to be back out there. Leaving the crowds of the slab behind, we hiked up to Toxic Shock, a great 5.9 crack. Aaron gave the lead to me and after some good encouragement, I decided to give it a go.

(just before the fall,
happy heads have helmets!)

I have never fallen on lead. I avoid it, hold on for dear life, over-grip, scream, swear, and grunt, anything to avoid falling. 


But Sunday was different. I fought, pushed my wimpy, out-of-shape arms to the max, and fell. Twice. On gear! And it held!!! I even hooked my foot in the rope and flipped upside down on fall 2. (thanks, helmet!). I've got a bit of rope burn and scrapes and if i sit to one side, the big bruise on my right buttcheek hurts. But, I fell! And I was fine! (Thanks, especially, to my great climbing partner for the belay). And, I actually want to go do it again.
So, take that, Fear!


Lets go do it again!

crickets make a good back up band

3:32 in the a.m.

the full moon illuminates SR20 so well i hardly need brights. and the stars are magnified out here in the middle of nowhere doing their part to light the world. the rolling hills that run alongside the highway gleam at their tops, just a bit.

its late. very, very late by my standards. and my coffee from the jear jammer truck stop is getting cold. but i'm feeling like it could keep driving for hours! the key to this craziness???

heart

blaring. loud. but i sing louder. take that ann and nancy.

a quick stop for a full-moon photo opp and i realize the crickets are singing to heart at the top of their lungs too. 

i love feeling at one with nature. 

dreaming from dungeonous depths of a ferry boat

The rule makers at the Washington State Ferries clearly haven't met Maile. If they had, perhaps they wouldn't have such stingy rules when it comes to furry buddies on ferry boats. Alas, Maile's sparkling personality couldn't sway andthe cool breeze from the "dog area" on the car deck.

I suppose its really wasn't that bad.Though we shared a space with their "spill kit"(?yikes?) and their mop bucket, we did have front row views from our corner, fantastic port holes for M to peek out of (thanks for the pic, Jen), and the intrigued stares from fellow passengers thinking I was a nutzo talking to myself, when really I was simply talking to my dog (much less crazy). I was feeling quite special in my corner.

I was digging my hands into the pockets of my down vest with my shaking, terrified dog on my lap(she's not a fan of ferry boats any more than they are of her), and then....

...Then! I saw it. The most beautiful, perfect boat (disclaimer: i dont really know it was perfect. my boat expertise is minimal - my only recent experience on a sail boat was sliding back and forth from one side to the other as the "weight girl" during a beer can race in the bay area a few years ago which left me drenched. for all i know the perfect boat could've had a hole in the bottom and was flying to shore to escape sinking. it sure looked perfect). Two wooden masts, four billowing sails, leaning just-so with the wind and FLYING through the saltwater.

I couldn't see the people on board, but I can only imagine the smiles plastered on their faces from the thrill of speed, the gorgeous blue sky day, and clear, open water dotted with beautiful islands to explore. My overactive imagination put me on that boat, in white boat shoes with a red striped shirt and one of those gilligan's island hats, of course, simultaneously pulling rigging and sipping great wine and good PBR while laughing at the side-splitting conversation and jokes of my fellow sun-tanned boaters. Since this is my little dream, lets make the men shirtless too. Why not? :)

I settled into my seat next to the spill kit with my little day dream and added one more thing to my long list of things to do, eventually. Anyone want to take up sailing lessons with me?