On Fighting Fire

Inevitably we get older and life begins to take on new meaning. The winds of change take effect a little at a time but as we age, I believe that we reflect on our lives and begin to see what we have become and where we have gone. I have friends that have spent time reflecting on their lives and in doing so have realized they have not been "living" the way that they had always said they would. Some of those friends have quit jobs and hit the road. Some have gone back to school. Others have picked up an instrument that they always wanted to play. Since my little wreck with gravity, I picked up the guitar and began learning. There has always been music in me, in one form or another, I have always tapped my feet, hummed a song, or as my wife would tell you, tapped my fingers constantly to the beat of my own song. I have always loved writing and I have always loved music. Not just listening to music, but listening to the beats, rhythms, and score's of life. Life is music. So I decided to learn. In doing so, I made a commitment to myself - I wouldn't quit and I would put my heart into playing the way that I have into all other endeavors I have set into motion. I'll let you know how it goes. So far? Slow but fun.

Moving to Durango was a life changing event for all of us. We put it all out there and walked precariously out onto the proverbial limb of life. Here we are, almost 3 years later. When we got here, I decided I would fulfil another dream, that was, becoming a firefighter. Wildland and Structural. I have always seen this profession as one of the most noble a man could pursue. For me, it was/is another adrenaline fueled adventure that not only fills my need for constant stimulation, but it allows me to fulfil another need that I have, and that is to help others. While guiding in years past, I realized that emergency medicine was something that I was good at. I could handle it, I thrived under pressure, and I was calm in situations that were dangerous and chaotic. So I volunteered (and get paid for pulling shifts) for the Upper Pine Fire Protection District. Went through my rookie training and finished with flying colors. I realized a lot while going through training. I can't even begin to tell you the amount of info that goes into training a firefighter/EMT. You really learn to respect and fear fire. Towards the end of our rookie class, we were fortunate enough to have the opportunity to train in a flashover trainer. Click the link below for a Youtube video of our actual training. I am the guy filming. All of the training was (and always will be - we never stop training) intense. You really have no idea how hard and dangerous it all is until you go through such training.

So recently someone pointed out that firefighting was "dangerous". With my current state of inability and suffering, I really had the time to stop and think about that. Here I am crippled up for the next year and I still go to trainings and look forward to the day when my radio goes off and I can hop in my truck, drive the mile to the station, and jump in the engine and respond. Just driving down the road in a fully outfitted engine is a danger in itself. MANY firefighters lose their lives yearly to accidents while responding. Then there is the time you spend on scene, standing right up against a burning structure or even worse, having to go in and pull someone out. Or responding to an auto accident where you have to crawl into an unstable vehicle, possibly ready to burn, to get to the victim(s). Yeah, its dangerous, but so is everything else we do. My take is that I have that constant music in my head, I live life pretty close to the edge, and I like to help people. So why not fulfil two lifelong dreams while I still have my health. Music brings me peace as does walking away from helping someone who is having a really bad day. I believe we all want to help others, that is human nature right? I think we all do help others, we just choose to do it in different ways.

My first call out of rookie class is one that I will NEVER forget. When doubt enters my head, and I wonder if the risks are worth it, all I need is that memory to put me back on track. All the time (aside from working full time) to train and respond is unquestionably worth it. So my radio went off after work one night, "Upper Pine Fire and Rescue district 3 (that's my district) Please stand by for a medical page".....I grabbed my radio, threw on my boots and headed for my truck..the call went on to say that a disabled woman needed a lift assist - had fallen out of her wheel chair. I was heading out of our subdivision when the location came out..it was the neighborhood next to us. Keep in mind that we live in the mountains..not in town. So instead of grabbing the engine I just drove over and figured I was going to help a little old lady back to her chair. As I pulled up another volunteer (Mike) was in a pond up to his waist holding a female up out of the water. I jumped out and ran over, her leg was stuck in a culvert running under her driveway. Mike had her head just above water. We got her back onto dry land and shortly after the ambulance arrived. Once we had her hooked up to the monitor we realized her heart rate was DANGEROUSLY low. She had stopped shaking. She was hypodermic. She was paralyzed from the mid-chest area down (due to a car accident in which her husband was killed). So as we warmed her and talked to her, she just couldn't get full sentences out. She was in trouble. We threw her in the bus (aka- ambulance) and off she went.

Turns out she (Chris) was trying to get some sticks out of their pond and took her chair a little to close and in she went. She had been in there almost 20 minutes before her 89 year old mother had stuck her head out the front door and realized something was wrong. She ran (as fast as a walker can go with an 89 year old engine pushing it) to the phone and out came our page. So Chris spent the night in the hospital and that was that. Then during our graduation ceremony (from our rookie class) up pulls a van and who should exit???? Chris! She spoke at the end of the ceremony about how "2 young men pulled her out of the water" and how " she could never have gotten out on her own and how tired she had become trying to hold her head up with her only working limbs- her arms". I kept looking away and at the floor, anything to distract me and keep the tears from falling. She looked us straight in the eye and said "I thank you from the bottom of my heart". That was it for me. I will never forget her or that call. I had made the right choice. All the pain, time, and heartache was (and always will be) worth it. We didn't "save" her...we did what we, or anyone else who might have been there, would have done. We helped someone who was having a really bad day.

So those are two of the little things in my life that I have taken on in my mid years. I don't know if I will ever be REALLY GOOD at either, but like everything else I do, I will never give up and I will always do my best.

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** Here is a link to the video I took in the flashover trainer. Watch the flames as the air and the smoke (ie: fuel) become so hat that they ignite.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UytLUK0mdZY

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Oh- and the picture above was taken in Ridgeway Colorado. It isn't one of our engines..ours are actually new.

Life Emerging

How often have you wondered about the past? Past friends, relationships, etc. If you are like the average person you likely find yourself reminiscing from time to time. When doing so I had often wondered about the friends who were (unbeknownst to them) so critical in the outcome of so many different facets of my life. We are all shaped by our past, whether we like to admit it or not. We grow up, grow apart, and move on. It seems rare that any of us make the minuscule effort needed to maintain contact with those who we share our youth. I too am guilty of such. However, there hasn't been many years in my life where I don't think back on those youthful memories and wonder what happened to those people. Did they find happiness? Did they have kids and get the opportunity to experience what life is REALLY about? Did they get to watch their kids grow and relive their childhood? Did they struggle through hard times like I did? Did they "keep it in the family" by marrying one of "our" little circle? Did they stay in touch with one another? Did they even survive this long? All these questions have seeped into my mind occasionally. It is usually just a fleeting moment where I am reminded of someone. Sometimes I can be walking down the street and something just triggers that memory. For most, it all remains just that, a memory. We are taught not to "live in the past" yet we all seem to hold those memories close to our hearts. They come flooding back to me in times when I seem to be at a low point. Granted, I am fortunate that this doesn't happen often. I have had a pretty damn good life. I do keep stock of my life and what it has amounted too. I try not to end up on auto pilot and forget my roots. I have always tried to keep memories alive. They have made me who I am, yet my life is just as busy as the next guy's and I don't have all day to sit and think about those people in my past.

My history has served me well. I think I turned out alright. There have been lots of hard times and even more good ones. I DO think of old friends and always wished I had a way of finding them. The moment usually passes as quickly as it comes. Usually life brings me back to reality, be it the kids, work , etc, etc. I have always had another escape: that is climbing. Nothing sets you free (at least for me) like being hundreds of feet above the ground with only a 9.4 mm nylon rope and some hardware keeping you from becoming gravity's bastard. You feel the blood run through your veins, your senses are on fire. You can feel every grain of dirt under your skin, and your heartbeat is downright audible.

When that "high" is suddenly taken from you in one fell swipe (or fall), your mind just can't seem to process what has happened. You end up in a "funk". You long for that feeling, yet you know nothing can replace it. I have sat for almost 3 months now, wondering what I can do to find that lift again. That happy feeling. The truth is, nothing will ever replace 15 years of climbing and the memories it has given me. The strength, both inward and outward, that I have been given. The confidence. But I was recently given one hell of a boost. Within a week I was contacted (or I contacted) some old friends. Friends who shaped my life and helped to make me who I am today. These are the friends we never forget and always wonder about. Suddenly in my time of despair, they began to emerge from a world so far, yet still so close. I can't explain the timing nor would I try, but it couldn't have happened at a better time. These aren't just regular old friends. These are TRUE friends who have taken a part in a rescue of a fallen soul. Friends who used to make me laugh (Rob-the dude is still smiling), who stood by my side no matter what (Chas, Mick, Misty) who I looked up to (Kai, Bill, Brad-this dude can still throw down) and ones who engulfed a heart so young (Heather, Malania) and those who were always a foundation for me to rely on (Joe, Iman twins).

It's crazy that these particular people would fall into my life shortly after a fall that devastated my world. Nothing could ever replace (nor will it until I return to that life) the life I had 3 months ago, but then again, nothing could ever replace these people. There is not one amongst them who I have not wondered about over the last 20 years. I hope that the evolving cyber reunion will turn into friendships that will last as long as the void (20+ years) as well as the opportunity for some of them to benefit in some small way...like I have. One of the greatest joys of this emergence of friends, is seeing their smiling faces and knowing that they are happy. Knowing they have found their own "higher ground". I am grateful to all of them for so many reasons. It wasn't just wasted youth that we shared. Obviously there was more. But I guess you had to be there.

Autumn is here

A little something I wrote a while back:

Never Meant To Be Here

However we dicide to live our lives, that is how it is supposed to be. However we decide to conquer our fears, that is the way we deal and move forward. We don't always end up where we want to be, but we end up where we are supposed to be. We fight and we struggle through this life, and we try like hell to shape this life into what we imagine it should be. We try to live a just life, a life filled with happiness and joy. We try not to hurt others and we try not to fall on our face. However that my turn out for us, we continually strive for better. We continually search for those things in life that give us joy.
Most of society passes through this life on auto pilot. I refuse to live my life in "the zone". To hell with "The Zone". Life is too short. We only get one shot. Find what it is that inspires you and do WHATEVER it takes to experience that "thing" as often as possible. So often we are grounded by life's little normalitites. Is it worth it? To live an ordinary life? To meet the status quo? To hell with that. Live life like you were never meant to be here. To hell with what you are "supposed" to do. Do what is in your heart. Have the courage to follow your dreams and never stray from what it is that those dreams lead you to.
When you encounter adversity and challenge, remember that it is the essence of your being, and the human spirit, that allows you to push beyond the limitations that society places on you. Don't ever settle for "good enough". Push your heart and your soul to the limits that you imagine. This life is very short. Don't let anyone shape your existence. Fight for what you believe in and never settle for second best. Live life like you were never meant to be here, then and only then, will you have lived a full life.

It's Been A While

It's been a while since I've posted anything. I have been battling the demons of my injury. The slow trickling realization that I may be changed forever. The surreal epiphany that my life may have been changed in my fall from grace. I still maintain my upbeat spirit and my unwavering will to fight. I won't quit and I won't back down. I have just been taking things one day at a time. The stitches are out, the dead skin has fallen away and the swelling is just about as far gone as it will ever be. But still I am left with a grotesque reminder of that day. The day it all changed. I'll get back to the "look" of my foot.

I carry on with a heart filled with hope and the fight that I have possessed my entire life. I have spent hours, even days, wondering what I will be like in a year. I am constantly told that "you will never be the same" and I constantly find that little smirk arising when I am told such things. How could anyone just accept that. Just quit. Just throw in the towel. I try and find inspiration where I can. My therapist (Eric) gives me new hope every time I see him. He won't let me accept any negativity. When I say "someone told me so and so" he just says, "yeah but that isn't you". He pushes me beyond what I perceive as my limit. I cheek crawl (that is a sweet phrase if only you can picture it) up the table as he manipulates my foot and pushes it to its limit(s). When I walked in to PhysicalTherapy (PT) I wondered why the table were so damn long....now I know. They are that way so that you don't cheek shuffle right off the back of the thing. Eric is a source of positive energy in my little world of struggle.

I had another HUGE pick me up this week. A friend I have known since sixth grade contacted me via that little Facespace thingy. Her name is Chas and we go WAY THE HELL back. Not only were we in sixth grade together, but high school as well. We were never super close but there was an incident in sixth grade where I had just moved to California and some pricks were getting their pick on. So Chas was pretty popular (all the way through high school too) and she stepped in and gave those jack asses a few words. I remember it like it was yesterday. Anyhow, her husband (Kai) and I were a bit closer as friends go. Ran with the same circle, etc. I have wondered for YEARS what ever happened to those guys. My son is named after Kai (in a round about sort of way) so he/they were never far from my thoughts. So she found me and we chatted online last night and I just laughed at some of the memories that came flooding back. The proverbial damn, that blocks out a lot of our past, came crashing down and the flood of memories was AMAZING. I laughed out loud, several times. The irony is/was that I was having a tough day. My pain was out of control (again) and I still refuse to take pain killers, so her little pick me up COULD NOT have come at a better time. For about an hour, I didn't think of anything but good times and good friends. Thanks Chas.

So today I get home and grab this little laptop and decide it is time to chime in on the ol' blog. I plug in my headphones, open up Itunes and just hit play for some random tunes. What comes on????? Staind's 'It's Been A While'. Sometimes I get a little spooked by little things. This happened to be one of them. If you haven't heard the tune...well you are an idiot, just kidding. Here I was thinking about the past, life, my future, my pain and on pops this little diddy. Not to be a cheese puff (that's pronounced poof in some states) but I'll put the lyrics below. So much of that song rings true right now. My relation to the song jumps all over but the part where it says "It's been a while since I could hold my head up high" and then "It's been a while since I could stand on my own two feet again"....wow. That is just plain creepy. Then a lot of it I can relate to the little odyssey that this whole thing has taken my wife and kids on...like.."and it's been a while since I said I'm sorry". I just can't help but feel like I not only hurt myself but I put an incredible strain on the people that typically lean on me and that I support.

Okay- about my swollen foot. My son walks in today as I am firing up this little machine of joy to write on this little blog, and he says to me "dad- your foot just stays swollen". I tell him "kid it looks about as good as it ever will". Then he says one of those little things that only another parent could understand. One of those little Innocent things that he couldn't possibly understand the magnitude of its meaning to me.. he says "dad at least you might be able to walk again and maybe climb....well I think you'd climb again even if you couldn't walk ever again". The kid gets it !!!

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Staind - It's Been A While

It's been a while

Since I could hold my head up high

and it's been a while

Since I first saw you

It's been a while

since i could stand on my own two feet again

and it's been a while

since i could call you

But everything I can't remember as fucked up as it may seem

the consequences that I've rendered

I've stretched myself beyond my means

It's been a while

since i could say that i wasn't addicted and

It's been a while

Since I could say I love myself as well and

It's been a while

Since I've gone and fucked things up just like i always do

It's been a while

But all that shit seems to disappear when I'm with you

But everything I can't remember as fucked up as it may seem

the consequences that I've rendered

I've gone and fucked things up again

Why must i feel this way?

just make this go away

just one more peaceful day

Its been awhile

Since I could look at myself straight

and it's been awhile

since i said I'm sorry

It's been awhile

Since I've seen the way the candles light your face

It's been awhile

But I can still remember just the way you taste

But everything I can't remember as fucked up as it may seem

I know it's me i cannot blame this on my father

he did the best he could for me

It's been a while

Since I could hold my head up high

and it's been a while since i said I'm sorry

That Place

BACK BY POPULAR DEMAND:

This is an approximation, and only an approximation. I cannot be held accountable for its validity or accuracy due to the fact that I am about as doped up as a human can get without landing yourself straight in the rehab. To the best of my knowledge, this time frame is accurate as to the time of my accident to the time under the knife. The first cut. This timeline is important to me because it makes me realize that maybe I wasn't being such a panzy. Maybe I was right to feel sorry for myself for that brief second whilst I was screaming from someone to just go ahead and take my foot off. So here it is:

Alternative time units:

16 days, 7 hours, 5 minutes and 0 seconds can be converted to one of these units:
1,407,900 seconds
23,465 minutes
391 hours (rounded down)
2 weeks (rounded down)

I can tell you this- if you ever get hurt and have to wait out the surgery that will assuredly start you on the road to recovery, be strong and expect the worst. The worst gut wrenching pain you can imagine. It will come. Rest assured that between the time of injury and the time of surgery, there is a gray area. A zone of incomprehensible suffering that no human should endure. This "zone" is a place that I hope I never spend another second, much less 1,207,900 seconds. You find yourself contemplating everything....and I mean EVERYTHING. From the color of the butterfly that gracefully sits on the windowsill above your head. The little creature slowly flutters its wings and you swear you can feel the breeze emanating from its little world. The window that lets in that cool mountain breeze that you long to feel again. My little window to the other side consists of that breeze as well as the soft subtle sound of the river flowing behind our house. Soothing? Maybe? Torturous? At times. All the while you have to stay strong and keep your game face on. You know it isn't over. The games have just begun.

On the day of my surgery I was ready to go. I am not sure I could have taken another day of "recovery" while knowing that every day gone by would be another day that my bones had healed in a way that was not right. I knew my fall was bad and I had come to terms with the reality that I may never be the same, but I was ready to get on with whatever hand I would be dealt. Just give me that hand and let me work with it. Those last few days before surgery were INSANE. The pain was out of control. I had weaned myself off of the pain meds because the doctor said it would be best to not let my body build a tolerance to those little pills of joy. I am glad she gave me that advice. I would soon find out that the pre-surgery pain was just a precursor of greater things to come. Once I was there and in the pre op area, my anesthesiologist came in. The guy looked young enough to be my son. Turns out he is 31. He explained the benefits of the "Pain Block" as opposed to general anesthesia. I was sold. My exact words "hook a brutha up". Boy did he ever. After putting a little wonder juice into my IV, the proceeded to put this pain block in through the back of my leg. Just behind the knee. The very last memory that I had was of him hooking up the "little box" and setting the dial. It made my foot jump and twitch all over the place. That wasn't exactly the best note to go out on. It was a little weird seeing you foot flop around like fish out of water. Gasping for life....flopping..then slowly succumbing to reality. That would be the point where he found the right setting on his "box" for my nerve. That was all she wrote for three hours.

I had asked Dr. Furry if she would mind taking a couple of photos for my blog. She thought it would be okay so she held to her word and gave my camera to a couple of the OR nurses. As you can see, they did a great job of taking photos. This is one of my favorites. Right here on the left. If you have made it this far then you obviously have a strong stomach. This is half of my heel bone. When they told me I broke it "in half", they weren't kidding. The piece she is holding here was apparently still attached by a little piece. They had to pull it out to get in there and pull everything back together. They also had to pull my heel back DOWN into its anatomically correct position. Then they put it all back in there, added the plate and screws, sewed me back up and bhada bing...bhada boom. I am back on the road to recovery.

The one thing that I wasn't prepared for was the moment when that pain block wore off. All through the night they keep coming in to check on you. Give you meds (orally) and take vitals. The little subtle question that they kept asking was "how is your pain now"? Ha! It was awesome - I didn't even feel like I had a leg. They persisted. Knowing what was coming. Anticipating . Watching me ever so keenly...waiting. Then - at seven in the morning on Saturday it happened, the pain block wore off. I am not ashamed to admit it, I screamed. Holy Mary mother of God. What had they done. I actually had to sit up and see if they were doing surgery right then. I would have been happy to let them take my foot at that point. As long as it would end the pain. They kept trying the "oral" meds even when I was telling them (orally) that they weren't doing squat. My whole body convulsed in pain. I have NEVER felt something so intense. I thought I had seen the worst of it.

I believe (especially now) that our minds internalize certain things and are able to withstand some tremendous amounts of agony. I think my mind just went into self preservation mode. I withdrew into a place within myself that was safe. I place I had never been. This was a place of comfort, of selflessness, of reasoning. I knew that this was coming, or at least I thought I knew. I somehow feel that I know what it is like to be truly on "THE EDGE" of what your body can take. It makes me think of all the books of adventure and survival I have read. You just shut down and your mind takes over. It takes your soul to its little safe haven and leaves just enough for your body to progress. Ever so slightly, you come back. Sounds are intense, smells, light, you just feel.....awakened. It would be absurd to say it was a refreshing experience, but I can tell you that it is one I will never forget. My "limits" have been redefined and subsequently my boundaries have been pushed further than I ever thought possible. The doctors and hospital staff were amazing. They knew what was coming, and they did everything to lessen the punch. They fixed me as best they could. I walk (well in a few months anyway) away with some sweet blingage in my foot and a whole new respect for the human mind. I am grateful for the people who are able to help when things like this happen. What could you possibly say that would equate even the slightest gratitude that you feel? Most of all, I am grateful for the wife who has stood by me through all this. Was torn from her sleep by my moans and screams. Who was there to look me in the eye and say "it's gonna be okay". Seems I owe her a little vacation.

Finally, I am home after an extra day in the hospital. The pain is there, but I have been to that place. I have been there and I know that the pain won't win. I will win. I don't have it as bad as some. In fact - there are those that see this as a pretty minor injury. I do walk away with a healthy respect for those who have been to that place. Whos minds have taken over and taken them to a place of comfort during the most horrendous moments of pain and suffering. It is a brotherhood that I hope you never join. Should you find yourself there - just go with it. You have to endure and you will make it through. Now that I am fixed up.....let the healing begin. There are climbs waiting.

PS: I have no clue why there is a surgical latex glove on my foot. Surgeons just wanna have fun I would presume! Oh - and chics dig scars !!!

The Simple Things

The term "Doing Time" conjures up images of an inmate locked in solitary confinement. It brings about a sense of loneliness and utter insanity. While I enjoy "me" time just as much as the next guy, and while a solo wilderness journey is a tale in itself, my time on the couch since this injury has been about as close to solitary confinement as I ever wish to get. I got bored enough to count the boards on the ceiling (37 in case you are wondering) as well as the knots (lost count and got too frustrated to carry on) and watched some pretty drab movies. I do love to read, but I thoroughly enjoy taking my reading outside, under a tree, on a rock, or just about anywhere. However, no matter what I "enjoy" a little variety makes a subtle difference yet enhances any experience or activity. Laying here on this couch (thank God it is a futon) for the last 11 days has made me as close to a raving lunatic as anything in this lifetime is sure to. I think we have all seen movies that depict the lone prisoner locked in his cell and asked our selves, could we handle that? Well without an ounce of doubt, my answer is a resounding HELL NO. I would knock my own damn teeth out and uses them as tools to chisel my way out. I would cut this plate and screws from my foot and fashion it into some sort of crude instrument to burrow my way back into sanity. One bloody pebble at a time.

Okay, now that its settled (the fact that I could not be a prisoner) lets move on. Today was a day that I will not soon forget. I went outside..got in a car and went to town. I got to roll the window down and smell fresh air. I walked on a sidewalk, and felt the sun on my face. My hair tingled and not from the narcotics pulsing through my veins...it was wind. Pure, glorious, fresh, clean, mountain wind. I saw clouds and went up to the lake. I sat under an Aspen tree and felt green grass between my toes. I smelt dirt. I saw the sun glisten on the rippled water. Best of all? I sat in a lawn chair and watched my little girl ride her bike. In all this down time (25 days) I have done so little. Anytime out of the house was at my desk or at the doctors office. Something so simple brought such bliss. She just giggled. A sound that most of us take for granted on any given day. Not this day. Her little legs propelled her like a rocket. I swear I could hear every link in her chain as it would grind around the sprockets. The look of determination as she would glance over to make sure I was watching.

I know that I may someday get back to "normal"...no I WILL get my life back, but I will never look at the simple things with the same eyes that I had before. Seems when you get knocked down and "locked up" the way I have, you really begin to miss such little simplicities. I may miss a beat here and there in my recovery, but I truly hope I don't miss a beat when it comes to the appreciation we should all have for simple things that just pass us by. Like a shooting start on a full moon night, it all feels so amplified now. Maybe this has been good for me. Maybe this is the silver lining. Maybe this is just the beginning of new realizations and missed sensations.

A friend indeed

This is George. I met George at a little nondescript crag in Texas about 10 years ago. We have since to climb together, however, I have always hoped that we would find time to share a rope again. George and I have stayed in touch through the years. An email here....an email there. Usually short and sweet, something along the lines of "hey I'm doing fine, alive and climbing". The short time that we shared was of the substance that defines the essence of being a climber. George was alone, just bouldering around. If my memory serves me, other than us, he was the only other one there. He had walked from Mineral Wells (the town) to the crag. Maybe he hitchhiked. We climbed for the day and got to know each other. We offered him a ride back to his hotel and as it turned out he ended up over at our apartment. We were fond of George and his funny accent. He was so full of wonder and surreal climbing stories. There was a bond there that only need be explained if you do not climb.
So George read my blog the other day and replied with one of the most gut wrenching, heart felt, emails I have ever received. I am attaching both of his emails below. Not to gloat or prance around because I have cool friends, but because it is a classic example of the dignity and respect that one person can have for another. The bond that holds together a friendship over oceans, mountains, and many miles. The kindness in ones words can do more for ones spirit than can the most potent of pills prescribed for the reason of relief. Relief is what I felt when I read George's letters. Once again, a friend comes along and lifts you up when you have been beat down to what feels like the point of no return.
I hope that someday George can make it out this way or we can make it out his way. Either way, I know that we will remain friends with an unbreakable bond....right up until the end. Thanks George your heartfelt grace will not be forgotten.
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Well Jim, My memory of 30th Aug 1990 is that I was damn well gonna put that new route up before it got dark. yeh, sure, I'd need to sort the ropes out that I'd cleaned the line with but it wouldn't take me long. I sorted them and proceeded to abseil off the top of the crag. How was I to know that when I grabbed both ends and stuffed them into the belay device, in my haste I'd actually dropped one end. When I began the very rapid seventy foot descent to the hard, hard ground then I understood my mistake! I remember lying there looking at a darkening sky and beginning to see stars appearing out there in the cosmos. They seemed welcoming and awe inspiring to me because they told me I was still a living sentient being. I didn't know if I would remain so at that point but at least I could look at the Universe for a bit longer before I went. As it happens the only place I went was hospital. The paramedic asked me if I'd been unconscious. "No" I said. Then my climbing partner Tim, calmly told them I'd been unconscious for ten full minutes! Oh, right... And yes, it was painful, and yes I wished I'd been more careful but I was pushing hard that year and I always knew it could happen. I spent a lot of time in that hospital bed thinking about life the Universe and everything just like you. I thought about climbing and what I was doing and I thought about whether it was really worth dying for. I only ever came up with one answer. Of course it damn well was! I realised in that bed that I was actually comfortable with the risk I was taking on a weekly basis and that, yes, I actually was comfortable with the idea of dying for climbing. Something I hadn't realised before because I was too busy climbing to think about it.And yes, just like with you, they said, " you won't do that again". The surgeon who put my limbs back together said "you'll never climb again with that arm". Just like you I looked him right in the eye and said " Yes I bloody well will mate!" Well, it took a while and lot of physiotherapy but I did get that arm straight again. The one they said I never would, and I did get to climb again. In one year I was back to where I'd been and I was climbing harder if anything. I had just taken all those months of hard work and recuperation as an occupational hazard and focused on my goal of climbing like I'd always done. Why? Well because climbing is me. It defines me and always has. And so it is with you. Nine months later I was standing at the bottom of that potential new route. The Scottish climbing community had been gracious enough to leave the line alone for me. I stepped onto it and immediately felt like I was back where I should be. A short while later 'Nearly an Angel' E3 5c existed. Now, the guide book just says "George MacIntyre broke an arm and a leg on this climb". They don't know the half of it!! Now, that text makes me smile in my old age. Hey, what am I trying to say to you Jim? Just that I'm there with you and I know what it is to go through it all. I commiserate with you and celebrate with you also because you understand the value of climbing despite it's risks. You get from it what it's meant to give and for that you are blessed. I salute you. Ignore everything the physio's tell you, get better and, hell, lets go climbing!! Regards to your family. (the ones we put through hell while we're doing our thing).

Geo.
ps. Awesome blog!!
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Jim, I'm glad you are uplifted by my words and I'm glad you cried. When I read of your fateful happening and your thoughts on it all, it was like reading a bit of my own past. We connect mostly through the ether you and I but we have a strong connection in our understanding of one of the most beautiful feelings in the world - that of just cutting loose, trusting your instincts and not being afraid to take that risk. And yes, you should shed some tears. I know I did. I cried when I realised I was comfortable with the potential price of death for something I loved. I cried when I thought about what my obsession was putting those I held most dear through. I could tell myself that when I was on rock I was in control. I'm not sure I always was but those loved ones sure as hell were not in control of the fear they felt for me each time I picked up that sack full of climbing kit. It's a selfish sport at that end of things. A climber needs to be inwardly honest about that but you just have to be who and what you are. there is no other choice in life unless you want to live a lie. You have to learn to feel the hunger and the guilt in equal measure and be ok with it. It's a toughie but it's a climbers lot. Those who truly love you will understand and accept. The photo? A frivolous moment on a crag just above Zermatt in the Swiss Alps, just around four weeks ago as it happens. I don't feel so fit right now but I do appreciate the compliment. Just stay positive, stay focused, look around you and be happy to be in this life. It's a hell of a great place to be. In a couple of weeks I'm on my way to Tuolumne meadows with my wife Anna, to do some climbing and hiking. I'll think of you for sure!

take good care.
Geo.

Pain Gauge

How do you gauge pain? Scale of 1-10? High to low? The doctors always seem to ask me to rate my pain and when I tell them it F*&$ing hurts worse than trying to squeeze a 10 pound kidney stone from my whowho....they say "on a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being the worst". Why would you have to ask me that after I answered so eloquently? How about it hurts so bad that I would rather you take a large carpenters hammer ( the kind with the knurled head) and smack me right between the eyes? Hows that. Does that make you understand? Not usually. Then the white coats may ask you "what is the quality of your pain? Does it radiate, pulse, burn?" Are you freaking kidding me. It feels like someone is sticking my leg in a meat grinder and hand cranking it. Nope, not putting it on "grind" and getting it over with fast - nooooo that would be to easy. Nice and slow. Radiate? You are joking right. I feel the pain down to the core of my soul when it happens. I bet the guy next to me feels it when my pain "radiates".

My advice to you is- don't ever, ever, ever, flippin', ever break your calcaneus. Land on your head, your back, your sack, or your face, but just don't break this bone. The "quality" of pain is exponential. I can't even describe it. Oh yeah, and they don't tell you that as the MASSIVE swelling goes down the level, quality, and frequency of the pain is amplified. Yup - I am glad the swelling is going down. This means they can cut on me and give me my Go Go Gadget heal next week. That means I can start the healing process and start ticking off the days on the calendar until I climb once again. But !!!!!! With the decrease in swelling comes the unmentioned fact that all those vessals and nerves that have been cut off due to the grotesque swelling are now infused with blood. The kicker is that you are told to spend AS MUCH time as possible with your foot elevated above your heart. This helps by keeping the blood from the limb as much as possible. So, you have spent most of the day with your leg elevated..then you gotta take a whiz....oooohh no. You know what's coming. You put your foot down, reach for your crutches and all of a sudden it feels like someone has taken a bastard file ( yes that's a real tool) to your tibula, fibula and every bone and muscle in the immediate vicinity. At work, they all stop what they are doing and watch as I stand. I think they find it entertaining, hunched over on the crutches, turning pale, and having a major episode of Sudden Onset Tourette's Syndrom. And boy can I let the epithet's emanate. It kind of makes me laugh as I lay here on my back in a much lower class of pain.

So then, how do you gauge your wellness? "Oh I feel good today." "My back doesn't ache this afternoon." For me it is "wow my flippin' pain subsided for the last 30 seconds, should I make a run for the pisser?" My pain doesn't really come and go...it just keeps on coming. I eat pain for breakfast with my Cheerios. How bout a nice warm glass of excruciating, radiating, thumping, piercing, rotten ass pain? Now that is what I am talking about. All this pain leaving my body is making way for the pain that I will receive next week after my surgery. So is it bad when Lortab and Oxycodone can't even take the edge off? I have found the sliver lining, and the reason for this. I am going to be immune to pain after about 6 months of this. Yeahhhhhhh I am going to be one tough SOB. My pain gauge is going to be amped up, remodeled, and set for "you can't touch this". I measure my pain quality by how close I get to passing out. This has got to be good for all that future Alpine Climbing. Look out world the new and improved Jim will be here soon. New metal heel and all.

I will keep looking for the answers to life's funny little questions. I will keep my eyes and my mind open. My gaze will always be tilted up...looking for answers and scoping the rock for the day I can feel it under my skin once again. I am grateful to all the friends I have and especially to the amazing family that won't let me get down about this. With them, the pain is only a nuisance and nothing more. The pain will not define who I am, it will only test my will and strength, and I shall win.

D-Day

Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1)
D-day : /ˈdiˌdeɪ/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[dee-dey] Pronunciation
–noun
1.
Military. the day, usually unspecified, set for the beginning of a planned attack.

The mention of "D-Day" conjures up images of soldiers launching into battle. Transported to the battlefield and sent into the unknown. A constant barrage of dangers all around them. Never knowing which way to run, never knowing what to do but charge forward. Faced with an enemy in a far superior position, they march forward and do what is necessary to achieve their goals. Sacrifices are made, pain is dealt, and suffering is inevitable. Loss is inevitable, gain uncertain...but either way, things must be done. The battle must be waged.
My own personal D-Day will be next Friday the 15th. I went to the Orthopedic Surgeon yesterday. The news was not good. Not quite dire, but not good. Lots of uncertainty. No guarantees. My battlefield will be a myriad of events with no positive outcome assured. Now I know what lies ahead. The weapons of this war will be only those possessed within. My heart and my soul. The plates and screws: weapons of the surgeon. Tools of the trade. The pain is assured and the battle will be long. I present as though I am unafraid. Time is all that I have, my heart and soul are strong. My enemy has the upper hand at this point, but I will not give in. I will press on, move forward, and take ground as I go. My fellow soldiers will be there with me. My wife and kids will fight with me, they are brave (if not braver) than I. I may come out of this forever changed. To some, the change may be obvious....less flexibility, a limp, etc. The real change will be what is inside. I will gain brawn, both inner and outer. I will not falter and I will not run away. The plan is in place, the soldiers are here with me, my choices are limited, but I cannot show fear. This is where I am and I would not have this strength if it were not for those I have by my side. We will win, we will fight.
I don't know how good my outcome will be. The cards are stacked against me. They say that this will probably be the first of many surgeries. The Doc even told me that the "worst case" scenario could be me losing my foot. Stunned cannot describe how that felt. I guess with the lack of "meat" in the ankle, recovery is slow and hard. Infection is a REAL possibility. The pain hasn't subsided, but only multiplied. My kids are scared but I assure them that it is all going to be okay. I WILL gain from this. Experience, wisdom, and even strength. To say I am not a little scared, would be a concealment of the truth. But I can't say it. I can't show it. One moment of weakness can lead to absolute regression. Everyone has been totally positive and encouraging. I care not for sympathy. If you pray, pray for me, if you meditate, do so with me in your thoughts. If you believe in the power of positive thoughts, please send some my way. I don't ask for much, but I need the positive energy flowing my way.
Thanks for all of the positive thoughts and vibes - without my friends, I have no army for this war.

Judgement - Part 2

The previous post (on judgement) made me think of another analogy. One which I have been witness to recently. One for which we have all been through and one which we have all been warned about (by those with more experience than us) but continued bumbling on with utter disregard. We have marched along with our blinders on, straight into the chaos that we were warned about. I like to think of it as Experiential Education. Until you "experience" it, you just don't quite get it.
Think about this analogy for a minute. When you meet someone who just sweeps you off your feet. You are blind to the truth and swept away in an avalanche of emotions and hormones. I remember that. It may have been a long time ago, but I remember. Our parents would warn us and tell us to be careful. "It is just lust". "It will wear off in time and then what?" Truth be told, they were usually right. Falling in lust is a lot like being swept away by an avalanche. I haven't been in any big avalanches (real ones) but I have been in a small one. It was enough to get my attention and enough to make this comparison.
Like a new found relationship, crossing a potential avalanche slap can be both exhilarating and downright dangerous. Most people (at least those that want to live) that travel in the back country during the winter get some sort of formal training on avalanche conditions. After that they take things slowly. They build on their skills during an informal apprenticeship. They listen to others, travel with more experienced people, and learn from the stories and mistakes of others. They do their homework. They listen to those more experienced, they watch conditions, they study the history of a given area. It would behoove most people to take a similar progression to handling relationships. You don't just dive headlong into a situation that can take control of you in an instant and have lasting ramifications.
When you travel in avalanche terrain you take things slowly. You listen, look, and feel. You turn on your senses and you never rush. You use your JUDGEMENT to move forward. You take your training and you slowly go forward. You listen to your surroundings, both the physical world and your instincts. They can tell you a lot about what you are going through. You never go in blind and you never go in alone. You pull all of your resources together. You have the tools, the know how (because you have been through this before) and you have people there who are looking out for you. That is one of the most critical aspects: you have friends who are looking out for you, and you listen to them and they listen to you. Should you get caught in a slide, they are there to dig you out as fast as they can.
In a new relationship people don't often approach it with the same awareness that you would an avalanche. I am not sure why. In my opinion, you can get more messed up in a hurried and failed relationship than you can in most dangerous outdoor pursuits. Its said that "love is blind" but it can also be stupid. When you are young and you rush head on into these things, you neglect to see the severity of what you are doing. You don't see the consequences of your actions and you don't see the danger (no matter how slight) you may be putting yourself in. You have people around you who are usually more experienced telling you that you need to slow down, back off, and take a look around you. Acknowledge the danger signs and make decisions based on facts.
We have all had one of these disastrous relationships where we rush right in and then the newness wears off and it feels like the relationship slides right out from under you. Hopefully, at this point, you haven't alienated all of your friends and family. Hopefully they are still there to dig you out of the mess you have gotten yourself into. Like the avalanche, blind lust can leave you reeling. It can leave you damaged in ways that aren't always apparent immediately. The damage can be deeper than the eye can see and can take years to surface. You have to learn to take a step back and slowly build your experiences so that you have the judgement to make such critical decisions. When you refuse to listen, and you get caught in the slide, it is not always JUST YOU who gets hurt. Ignorance is bliss...but it can also lead to unnecessary risks and pain that can take years to heal. Much like an avalanche prone slope, a rushed relationship has all the ingredients for disaster. Knowing how to recognize this is a matter of good judgement. Acquiring that judgement is a matter of time....so take your time.

Update: Still growing and turning colors

08/03/08 - 6:32pm.....

Hindsight gets Lasik

Hindsight is supposed to be 20/20 right? So what if you are a stuborn jackass like me? Can you get Lasik surgery so that your hindsight is truly 20/20? I found myself thinking about his as I sat in the ER (once again) for my shattered heel. One of the nurses made the comment " I bet you don't do that again!". Well, as a matter of fact, the chances are great that I WILL do it again. Maybe I won't get hurt next time, or maybe I will, but I will surely be in another situation like the one that caused this injury. No matter how eloquently I tried to explain to her that I wasn't going to quit climbing because of this, she just insisted that I should see the "fruits of my labor now". Fruits of my labor !!!! What could she possibly mean? The fruits of my labor are the memories that I have from all the climbing. The good times I have shared with friends and the laughs we have shared. The fact that climbing has kept me in shape (both physically and mentally) would more likely be the fruits of my labor. A broken bone though?! That isn't fruit from any type of labor. That is a part of the game we play. It is the risk I take everytime I tie in to a rope or go out bouldering. I know this, my wife knows this, and my other climbing partners know this. That doesn't mean that we stop doing what we love. As any climber will tell you, you are more likely to be hurt walking down the street than you are climbing. Maybe with some hindsight lasik I can better predict the future. My vision will be perfect for seeing those winning lottery numbers before they are drawn. Maybe I could avoid all the pain and suffering that life had to offer. Nah- that would be too easy.

The inherent risks involved with climbing (or any other outdoor pursuit) are a fact that we cannot change. That is why they are "inherent". People have differing levels of acceptable risk. What I am willing to do - others may not be. The quntfiable risks that I take are something that I determine on my time. I don't push people into climbing. Even those new to climbing (hopfully) understand that there are risks that we cannot TOTALLY eliminate. So if you live your life scared and in a safety bubble, don't come climbing. You do your best to manage risks in everyday life. You don't get into your car and ignore the rules. If you did, you would surely end up dead. Fortunately there aren't steadfast rules in climbing. That is one of the reasons that most of us are drawn to it. We make our own rules (for the most part). You know the risks, you asses them, you do your best to minimize them, and you learn to process them in your mind and know when you are at your limit. That is, in a nutshell, what keeps me coming back.

I may spend a year or more recovering from this injury. The break (according to yesterdays ER visit) is "heinous". Those were the exact words of the ER doc when he reviewed my CT scans and x-rays. I loved the guy. No BS. He pulled no punches and he gave me the ABSOLUTE worst case scenario. He told me that he wanted to lay it all out there for me so that there were no surprises. He said that he wouldn't sugar coat anything, and he didn't. He told me that I could walk with a limp for the rest of my life, I could be facing multiple surgeries, and I could walk with a "VERY STRANGE" gait due to the damage. Basically I could be one of those guys that drags his foot behind him, with the toes never quite leaving the ground. Did he get my attention? Yup. Did the nurse have a point in assuming that I would "learn" from this and not do it again? She thinks so. Will I crawl in some hole and curl up in the fetal position-sucking my thumb and crying myself to sleep? NOPE.

There are people out there who have to overcome far worse injuries than I have. Mine could have been way worse, but I don't regret that day of climbing. It was a beautiful day in the mountains, overcast, with a slight cool breeze. My family was there, as well as Cody and Marcus. A group of people whom I love to share my time with were all there. It was the first climb of the day and as I went up I heard the sound of my daughter laughing and enjoying being outside. My son was picking out "his" climb. My wife was lacing up her shoes. Cody and Marcus were chatting and laughing. It was a great day to be alive and living in the mountains. While I was doing this, there were wars being waged, people fighting cancer, and somewhere out there someone was taking their last breath. I try and keep the attitude that "things could have been worse", and they certainly could have been. I look back now, a few days later, and I wouldn't have changed a thing. My problems are miniscule compared to most peoples. Some people live a jaded life, but I choose to live life on my terms. I will take the good with the bad. I appreciate the time that I have here and I won't "slow down" anytime soon. I feel sorry for those who stroll through this life afraid to take risks. I pitty those people. We all began to die the day we were born. To live life "afraid" is a complete mystery to me. We are all destined to die...so get out there and live. I don't regret what happened, or even feel sorry for myself....I consider myself one of the luckiest people alive...and that has nothing to do with this accident.

Judgement - Or the lack there of.

Judgement: the ability to base current decisions on past experiences in order to come out with a wise outcome.

This is one of my favorite sayings. It rings so true in so many ways. How can we have the judgement to get us through certain situations unless we have some past experience to base our decisions on? As we were toddlers, bobbling around in our youth, we were told that we shouldn't stick our fingers in the light socket. For me, that didn't quite register until I had the audacity to test the theory myself. I waited patiently for the right moment. Watching my surroundings and the authority figures. When the moment was right, I was determined to prove my parents wrong. Determined to prove that I was special and had what it took to buck the system. I was unafraid. I was confident in myself and the skills that I had acquired in my YEARS of living ( I think I was about 8 or 9 at the time). I was a seasoned vet who didn't need PARENTS to tell me how to live. So one day, when they weren't looking, I decided to give the ol' light socket a little friendly poke....nothing. I knew they were just trying to dictate my life. I couldn't quite get my finger in the socket. I pushed harder. Nothing. I remember trying to pinch my skin into some sort of preformed little wedge. That didn't work either. So then I looked on my dad's tool bench. There it was looking right at me all the while. The tool I would need to prove that my parents didn't know crap and that I was truly stronger and wiser than they gave me credit for. It was a little white screwdriver. It had a little clip ( the kind you find on a pen to hook on your pocket) and a little metal magnet at the other end.
This was it. I stepped out of our front door after collecting my little lightning rod. We lived in Hawaii at the time so I just threw on my flip flops and stepped out. There I was...just me, the socket, and the rod. No one was going to TELL me that something was beyond my capacity. I was old and wise. I walked right up to the socket that was right outside the door. Looked the socket straight in its slanted little eye......and in went the driver. That's all I remember. My next memory was running through the yard crying with one flip flop on. It must have knocked me down because my rear end was sore for days. I went into our backyard and climbed my favorite tree. It was my little escape. My little fort where I would often retreat to in times of crisis. My pulse was racing, my mind was foggy, and my fingers were numb. I think I may have even pissed myself just a little bit. I had done it though. It was a small step in my little life, but a huge leap in my path to becoming a man. At least that is what I liked to think. It shocked the holy buh-jesus out of me. I saw spots for days. I was too scared to tell my parents. Besides, I was a man now, making my own decisions. I had the judgement all right.....I never did that again. I have the base of knowledge now to know that that is stupid. You stick your finger in a light socket.....that crap hurts. Go ahead- don't take my word for it. You can't build your own base of knowledge by just listening to my story. You have to get out there and experience it for yourself. I think that if you talked to my parents, they would tell you that this story is just about the way I have lived my entire life. I learn from experience, not by someone TELLING me how things are and should be. It's worked thus far.

Pain

Here is the "after action" shot. Sitting in the ER and feeling like crap. The shot below is LITERALLY seconds before I fell. My 6 year old daughter was playing with our little point and shoot camera and took this. You can't really see much of the climb. In fact, not much but the top. This was taken from a little ways back. The ground is about twice my height below me. OUCH !!

Today sucks. The swelling is out of control. We called the Doc about 1am and they ran us through a few quick checks. Things I learned in EMT class. Basics. Check for a pulse in the extremity, CSM, etc, etc. All I could tell them is that I have never seen any of my appendages swell this bad. Well, I wish I could say that wasn't true (wink wink) but the swelling in my foot is truly out of control. All they could tell me was that I am doing everything right. Right?! It looks like my foot is a big blob of a club that is slowly sucking my toes into its core. Useless?! I can't even move my ankle a centimeter. I bet I can climb some mean cracks right about now. No feeling in the foot. Just jam it..hammer it in..and stand on it. No pain.

Speaking of pain, I was just telling my friend Sharon that the knucklehead that coined the phrase " pain is weakness leaving the body" must have neglected to run his spelling/grammer check. What he meant to say is that "pain is pain leaving the body to make way for greater pain".

Gravity Sucks !!!

Warning !!! This posting contains graphic nature and a scratch and sniff photo to the left. Mmmm hmmm....try it...I dare you! It was also written in a Lortab induced stuper. Nothing is more graphic than the obscenities that were emitted from my mouth as I hit the ground yesterday. I was about 15 feet up on a highball boulder problem when gravity grabbed me by my business and gave me a good yank.

Highball !!! The name itself should have given rise to a "heightened" sense of caution, but being the bumbling romantic that I can often be, I saw it as a "challenge"..... a dance with the devil in the pale moonlight. I am prone to such "highball" problems. I tend to walk away from them with a sense of satisfaction and a heightened sense of "being". It is a humbling feeling to know that failure could result in serious bodily injury.

Every now and then, as I fight gravity, gravity wins. This time- gravity kicked my ass. But you know what?! I won't quit. I spent my high school years kick boxing. What did I learn? Was I some bad ass kung fu expert? A brawling, spittin', tactician of an ancient art? Nope - I learned to get my ass kicked. I was pretty good at that. No; I was damn good at that. Obviously I still am. Here I am lying on the couch facing the inevitable. I am looking at surgery and dealing with the most profound pain that my body has ever dealt with. Seriously !!! The pain is UNREAL. The CT scan and Xrays from the ER show that I OBLITERATED my heel. As my typical style would dictate, I didn't just go down, I went down in style. I didn't just fall, I tried to auger my darn foot into the earth. Guess I should have been a farmer. Could have been a professional post hole digger.

I could just throw my hands in the air and scream out loud, but why? I don't need sympathy. I don't thrive on that. That's not how I roll. I just gotta roll with the punches, pick myself up, dust myself off, and get on with livin'. I am thankful to those of you who were there and CARRIED me out. Then drove like a rodeo clown on some serious downers to Mercy Medical Center. I know we will be laughing about this down the road, but for now, I have a fight ahead of me. I am ready though. Don't feel sorry for me, don't send me cards or flowers. Just have a good laugh and drink one for me. Here's to all of you who have tried to make it as a human auger. Don't ever give up and don't let anything fog your focus. Carry on and live the dream. When you feel like you are down and out, and there is no way out...just grab the bird by the gullet and shake things up a bit.

The Gift

I awake to the sound of the river slowly flowing through the canyon below. The current carries with it life. Life flowing, reaching for a distant ocean. I roll over and pull the mummy bag over my head. Hoping for a moments more sleep. My hope fades as my climbing partners awake and slowly, methodically, begin the morning rituals that mark the beginning of another day spent pulling on stone. My body aches and my muscles burn. Slowly I sit up. The crisp morning air saturates my lungs as I yawn. The morning sun isn't yet high enough to lend me its heat. I smile at the new day. I embrace its freshness and acknowledge its gift. I am alive. I have been given another day. A gift that will only last a day, but a day that will live eternally in my soul.

As we all rise and prepare our gear, I find myself noticing the little things. The sound of the logs popping on the fire. The swallows swishing and darting about. The clanging of gear. The subtle crunch of the morning frost as it gives way under my steps. Not much is said. We know what we need to do. We have been here before. Each person seems to operate in unison. Little need for words. While one stokes the fire and starts coffee, another gets water, while yet another begins the task of sorting gear. We are all smiling.....enjoying the moments we have. Unsure of how long each of us may have. No one verbalizes that thought but as climbers we know that any day could be our last. We do not have a morbid fascination with life or death. We are all just keenly aware of the existence of both. We know that without one, we cannot experience the other. We are grateful for the gift of life. We intend to use it in a way that gives us the utmost sense of satisfaction.

In what feels like total peace we eat our breakfast and sit in wonder at the world around us. Still not a word has been uttered. We are where we belong. We are what we are and what we choose to be. We are the quintessential team. We communicate without words. We shoulder our packs and head down the trail. As we pass each tower, our gaze is pulled upwards in what feels like reverse gravity. We can't help but look up, our eyes strain as we methodically look for a line up a seemingly blank face. Our boots trod along and our pace slowly increases. Driven by desire we march on until finally we reach the base of the climb. We drop our packs and our eyes meet. All of us....and through the sweat and panting...there are only smiles. No need for words. We are what we are.

Only a Climber knows the feeling

I often hear other climbers say that they are "addicted" to climbing. I have have always kind of wondered what it is like to be a bonafide addict. Like the crack head puffing on the glass dragon. Slowly inhaling the toxic smoke into their lungs. With each beat of their heart, their blood courses through their veins. Loaded with the substance that their body craves. Their mind seeks this substance much like a shark stalks his prey. Silently they acknowledge that there is a need. Slowly they hunt. Seeking the substance that their mind is telling them that they need. The addict swims amongst his peers, all the while seeking. Hunting the one thing that will ease their mind and settle the jitters in their body. Silently they stalk and take the steps to acquire their "fix". Like a shark, the addict is crafty, stealthy, driven, and utterly unswayed from their intended target. Once a shark has tasted blood, there is no other substance that can replace the hunger they feel.

I have never been addicted to crack, weed, alcohol, porn, sex, or anything else for that matter. I thank my dad and the inheritance of his "mellow genes" for that one. I don't know what it is like to NEED something. To physically crave something. Except for climbing! I have tried to find a better way to describe my need for climbing. I just can't explain it to those who don't climb. A fellow climber/addict, however, knows all too well the feeling that I have. Like an addict, my palms get sweaty when I imagine my hands covered in a white powder as I indulge in the crack. One hand jam on top of the other. Each jam sets free a feeling of euphoria that I can't find on the ground. Each movement forward...upward...eases the jitters that I feel inside. Slowly, ever so slowly, I reach a state of awareness that you just can't find without "our" drug. My hair tingles, my breathing becomes amplified. I feel the irregularities under my fingers. The sharp edges threatening to pierce my skin like a needle to the arm. My toes curl in my shoes, searching, feeling, seeking out the most subtle of edges to stand on. My level of awareness has peaked. There isn't a drug on the face of the earth that can give me this sense of peace that I am feeling. As I near the top, I am already thinking of my next fix. As I plug the last few cams, I am in nirvana. Another successful ascent.

I am a junkie. An addicted. Addicted to more than just the aforementioned feelings. I am addicted to the lifestyle. I am addicted to the friendships I have formed throughout the years. The friends whose smiling faces I will see one day when I close my eyes for the last time. These are my fellow junkies. They are the brethren with whom I share this ride. We have shared countless bonfires, many beers, and even more memories. These memories can't be labeled or be affixed with a price tag. Like the the urban junkie, we do what we have to in order to get our fix. We rearrange schedules, delay meetings, skip out on work, make excuses, and basically do what is necessary to duplicate that feeling. For many of us, this will be a journey that will last a lifetime. I won't quit. I don't want to quit. I hope to pass my addiction to my kids, and their kids, and their kids. Like the shark, I will eternally swim the ocean of life....looking for my next fix. To you my friends and fellow addicts, I thank you for taking this ride with me. I see your faces in my minds' eye. I remember the good times and the bad. The trials and tribulations. We have left our blood on the rock. We have shed blood, sweat and tears. We have shared some crack. For your commitment to the cause - I salute you. I wish you the best. I hope you can get down to Durango someday and create more memories. If our roads shall not cross again, I hope you will continue your journey. And don't get help. You don't have a "problem". You have a solution that some search their whole lives for. You know what I am talking about. You are a Climber. Climbing isn't a drug to you...it is a way of life.

Only a climber knows the feeling.......

Sub-Alpine Start

If you climb, you have heard the term (and probably experienced) Alpine Start. For you non-climbers, an Alpine Start is where we get up before the sun comes up in order to get a head start on other groups, to ensure you are on a summit prior to daily storms moving in, or just because you are a complete freak and like getting up before the average human. Yes, I am partial to alpine starts. While climbing in Canada and on Mt. Rainier it was often a necessity. Now don't get me wrong, when you are out on a day climb on some back country ice you had better get up early before the sun makes the ice all the more dangerous. When avalanches are a concern you need to get your rear out of the tent and moving before the sun softens the slabs and the chorus of avalanches starts. Unless you dance to the beat of the avalanche drummer, you need to get up and get moving.

This weekend we took Friday and Monday off. We intended to pack it so full of climbing that we wouldn't' be able to lift our Corona's at the end of the day. Yeah, well at least we thought the plan was good. Instead, we drank so many Corona's (each night) that we could barely get out of bed the next morning and the prospect of the long hike(s) in changed our motivation from 100% to about.... well non existent. The last few nights have entailed a couple of bonfires, a lot of beer, a couple of hilarious stories around the fire, and Doug dancing on a pallet and burning his leg hairs off. But all weekend long (thus far) our plan to get that early morning start, has kind of been...well.. lost. Being the optimists that we are (that would be Cody and I) we decided that we didn't ruin our day. No - we have just created a new catch phrase. A new strategy. It's called the "Sub-Alpine Start". No need to get up early. We are in the middle of our monsoon season here in Durango. Most people (ie: those who don't stay up too late) would think that starting early would be the logical step. Not us! Nooo ! We start late. Sleeping in (which is not normal for our family) give you more energy. Then, when most people are running from the daily storms, we roll in and take over the crag (climbing area for you non-climbers). Everyone is running from the lightning and rain. Not us...nooooo... we are hard core. REAL climbers. We pity those poor souls who are afraid of a little lightning and rain. We are real men (and women). Mountain folk. Lightning is just a small hazard that we face and overcome. We eat lightning for breakfast and piss fire all day. Ok, not really. We got started late all weekend. I blame it on Cody (pictured above). He held me down and forced me to drink Corona's every night this weekend. I think he may have even duct taped a beer bong to my noggen. The evidence lies in the lack of any hair running a loop around my head approximately 4 inches wide. Plus the lack of hair in said region. Hold on I gotta go run and grab another. Then he MADE me sleep in. No really - he forced me. I think he slipped something in my beer. Yup, it's all his fault. But !!! We have coined a new phrase and we may have started a trend that could catch on. Probably not - but wishful thinking. Tomorrow we are getting up early though. For sure !!! We are heading out to Sailing Hawks for a little bouldering. We will (FORE SURE) get an early start tomorrow....... so the next time your buddies try to get you out of bed early...just tell them that you are more apt to the Sub-Alpine starts. Don't be an over achiever.