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.

4 minutes 40 seconds in our little world

Seeing the "Light"

I was a bad kid. Still am. I never listened to my

parents, or any other authority figure for that matter. I typically do things "my" way instead of the "normal" way. When everyone else would go right...I'd go left. If people would go up...yup !!! I'd go down. Guess I never really was a follower. However subtle it may be, I think we all like to go our own way. I think that we all imagine we can buck the system and do things our way. What person doesn't see themselves as the epitome of the loner, rebel, bad ass, we all have looked up to at some point in our lives? Okay, maybe not "looked up to", but we have all imagined ourselves as this no non-sense, thrill seeking, wife beater wearing, tattoo havin', beer guzzlin', brawling, no shit takin', bad ass mo fo'. You know the one! The guy in the wife beater (or whatever you call those things) t-shirt, overly protuberant biceps, and the leathery, tan skin that all the ladies dig. Yeah ! That guy.

I tried to be him. Well, inadvertently anyway. I was never really "tough", but man I could take a good ass whoopin' better than most men twice my size. I like to call it my insatiable desire to win. I guess the one thing that I got out of that was that I am not very good at quitting. Beat me up, beat me down, take my stuff, do whatever....I won't quit. I sure hope that this is one trait that my kids pick up. Well, I just hope they don't have to go through the crap that I did. I hope they have the wherewithal to realize that beating your head into a wall (so to speak) is pretty darn counter productive. Lets just hope they can be tough without having to be a super hero...in a wife beater.

I still let the bad mo fo' out every now and then. Mostly after a few golden kool-aids. These days I try not to pick fights or talk too much smack. Instead, I grow wings and think I can fly, think I can climb things I shouldn't, and generally my man bag tends to drop a little and I think I am pretty invincible. I throw what little caution that I do have to the wind and I even end up a mad streaker on occasion. I am a lot more mellow these days. I am still a bad ass though, at least in my own little mind. I guess I have finally seen the light......at least I drink light now!

Scratchin' the boobs

Today I had one of those moments that all parents dread. My daughter was pretty hot after hiking up to our favorite bouldering area. She was pretty pink in the face when we finally got there. It was a really warm day here in Durango. I think it might have reached ninety degrees. Yeah, that's hot here in Durango. So we got there and we all laid around for a good half hour before we even put on our shoes. Kealey was noticeably hot and drained. So....she says "daddy can I take my shirt off?" WOW !!! How do you tell a little 6 year old girl that it isn't kosher for little girls to climb with their shirts off? I just told her exactly that. So she one ups me and says "well Kai does it." Her mom explains to her that little girls shouldn't climb without their tops because that have boobies. So she says "boys have boobies too." Yup, she had us on this one. Then she goes on to make sure we know that there is no one else around but us. So we decide that it is probably more harmful for her to leave her shirt on.

Then the she starts to climb. She tops out on "her" little boulder problem and proceeds to stand on the top an beat her chest. She flexed a little and bowed her chest out. That was pretty funny. Then on the next climb, she proceeds to top out and say to me "daddy, I'm glad I didn't scratch up my boobs." Needless to say, I was utterly speechless. I will not forget that statement for the rest of my days. Sometimes being a parent is just priceless. You just can't explain to your "non-parent" friends, the joy and laughter your kids can bring you. They can make you forget all your worries and anxieties in a heartbeat. I know that they can break your heart just as fast, but I am too busy laughing and enjoying my kids to worry about that.