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.