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| Kingfisher Tower, Fisher Towers: Moab, Utah |
It was so
long ago (12 years) that we set out from our homes, destined to make it in one
long haul from Texas to Utah. Three of
us (Marcus, Ryan, and myself) determined to gracelessly dance with gravity to
the summit of a desert tower, and ultimately to bond as brothers on yet another
half witted, shotgun road trip into our destiny. We’d spend that Thanksgiving weekend fulfilling
yet another of our dreams (or trying), confronting our own demons, and finally
escaping the world around us if only for what seems like a moment in this
life. We’d make it three pitches (600+
feet) before a freak storm shut us down.
It was a memorable journey and one which still plays so vividly in the
reels that play out quietly in my mind on sleepless nights. Of late I’ve faced so many obstacles and
indescribable reckoning. I’ve seen my
life flash before my eyes and I’ve poured myself out and broken barriers like never
before. I’m truly blessed to have
memories such as this one emanating from my soul. Friend’s faces glimmering in the shadows of
so many summits, countless climbs, and memorable adventures. While traversing the last few years of my
life I’ve seen a slow comeback to the place where I belong, among my fellow
climbers, chasing the dreams we share in our vertical empire. Many climbs, such as this particular climb,
become metaphors for so much more in our lives.
In this case it was a failed attempt to summit the Kingfisher via the
Colorado Northeast Ridge (Fisher Towers, Utah)on a cold and blustery November
day. The lessons, like the climb,
resonate so deeply to this day. We were
three against seemingly insurmountable odds.
There was synergy amongst us and together we’d mount our attack. We’d face our fears, struggle through the
pain, laugh in the face of sheer terror, and ultimately lean in and support one
another (literally) as the storm unleashed it’s fury as we sat helplessly on
that mud packed ledge. We’d retreat in
freezing temperatures, and touch back down with utter joy, elated at the
feeling of tera firma below our soles/souls.
Like any epic adventure we’d relish in the memories for years to
come. As climbers, or Conquistadors of
the Useless ( a famous quote from famed climber Lionel Terray) we’d alternately
be haunted by the failure, and yet elated by the everlasting memories from the
journey. Such is the life of one who
chases their passion to all corners of the earth. The metaphors in climbing are never lost on
the souls who chase that dream.
Years have passed and similar adventures,
epics, failures, successes, and blundering quests have also passed through my
life. I’ve lost many fellow conquistadors
in the time that has passed, some lost in their battle with gravity, others in
a myriad of other ways, and yet all tie together in my mind to the world we
pursue, the quests we dream, and the passion we share. All of these lost souls are kings in my
mind. True life warriors who chased
their passion(s) at all costs, some of whom were lost in that pursuit, others
who were lost in natural ways, but all kings, and we are merely left standing
in their shadows as the three of us stood in the shadows of the Kingfisher so
many years ago. I think of them often,
and all of the friends I’ve lost, and I question whether I took the time in the
end to thank them for sharing their journey with me. Death in climbing (or otherwise) sends us
like a bolt of lightning to a place where we take inventory of all we have, and
the inherent risk(s) in our passionate pursuit(s). I look gently back at the last month of my
life and the sudden realization that I’m abruptly faced with, and have to live
with; the ever present realization of my own imminent mortality. For now I’m “stable” (as most would call “okay”)
as I wait for imaging, more diagnosis, second and even third opinions, cardiology
work ups, more appointments, more assessments, etc, etc, etc. And yet I see these journeys, these
adventures, the friends lost as well as those still here, and in spite of all the
ongoing fear and uncertainty, I can’t help but want to pick up the pace and
chase my dreams, slay my demons, and simply LIVE just a little more each
day.
I cherish the times struggling up these
desert towers, the sound of nothing but my breath and crampons crunching the
snow on some alpine peak, or the sound of my breath as I pace myself on another
run. I long to feel the safety of home,
and yet my nomadic soul pushes me out the door yet again. The pain of the past, the pain of loneliness
in the heart, the loss of relationships and the struggles in society; they all
pale in comparison to the light I feel in the quest to live a full life, a good
life, a life worth remembering. I see
their faces, these kings, and I hear their laughter. Knowing…ACTUALLY KNOWING…I am closer to my
end than most, has been a true gift. Nothing
is the same anymore. I value so many of
the little overlooked sensations and experiences that I once didn’t even
notice, or only noticed in passing. I
know as things fall apart in life, I can always find my way back into the
shadows of the kings. I can find solace
in the band of conquistadors milling about in the desert environs, breathing in
perfect cadence up some alpine route…I know I have a home here, and this
weekend I will once again stand before the Kingfisher, bathed in the light and
simultaneously comforted in his shadow.
I will stand at the base of this giant once again, nerves firing, fear
rising, soul shaking, and I will tie into my partner and move
forward..upward..and into that world where it all disappears. I know all these years later that to summit,
to be successful in the laymen’s sense, is nothing compared to actually
standing before such a giant, summoning the love of the Kings, and doing it
anyway. Summit or not…we will climb. Success is in the trying. In facing the inevitable and doing it
anyway. Should I find myself standing on
his shoulders, I shall thank that King for allowing my passage…and in that
moment I will let go of the gravity pulling at my heels in these trying
times. I will face the sun and smile….for
I will have made it another day! Here’s
to the Kings in all our lives. May their
shadows ever cover us in peace.
