Climb On.

It's been awfully quiet over here for almost a year now. I doubled down, went back to school for the climbing technique infrastructure I felt was lacking and finally have the next objective on the books:

North Ridge, Mt. Baker   July 2012

These guys have some gorgeous shots of the route, just in case you're curious...

Over here. Doing this.

Photo courtesy of PJ Soden | Northern Zazu. All rights reserved.

So it's winter. And I'm firmly wedged between climbing trips, hangin' out, getting schooled by my youngster. Life is good.

Also, I'm writing about it over here, mostly.

Dreaming of Glaciers

Harding Icefield Trail, July 2010

I haven't fallen off the edge of the world, though this summer has found me in a canoe and kayak more often than in the mountains. I'm counting down the days until this summer's climbing trip, where I'll be heading to the Pacific Northwest to trek the 44 mile roundtrip approach to Mt. Olympus and (with some good weather luck) climb that peak in early August.

Meanwhile, come visit me over at Element 22 for stories from the canoe trails and much more...

Looking up...

You'll just have to offer a guess as to which one it is. I'm not tellin' (yet, anyway) but I am gonna climb this summer, after all. Did I mention I am so psyched I almost tripped over my own feet just now?

Spring Training

Is about slogging

Slumming and slushing

Through the unpleasant stuff

It’s about going to the gym

Because you’re too tired.

It’s about reworking priorities

Until the gears mesh

And you take the first bike ride

Of the season

Because it’s too cold and windy

To stay indoors

For one

single minute longer.

White Mountains 100: Race Complete

The White Mountains 100 concluded almost 24 hours ahead of deadline, with a strong finish by all but one contender. Stories and photos and laughs to follow... time for sleep and gear scrubbing, first.

Part I: The Beast and I

Carhartts. Those ubiquitous, ϋber-durable outerwear old-reliable from the archives of my years spent running a chainsaw, splitting cords of firewood, pumping and hauling water at -40 and generally surviving winters in an outlying area of Alaska made an appearance over the weekend.

I wrangled back and forth, trying to determine the best gear for my supportive role as the lead medic for the winter ultra marathon. Traveling by snow machine, covering the entire 100 mile course, doubling back as needed, and hauling a sled with more than 100 pounds of gear, with temperatures ranging from the mid-thirties to minus 23 F at night, in the valleys, I needed a jack-of-all-trades layering system.

Something that could stand up to aggressive snow machine riding, maneuvering the machine and sled over terrain, digging both out of various predicaments and also… survive being thrashed by black spruce branches in the event of me losing an argument with the machine Herself. Inevitable, really. The machine assigned to me is a thing of beauty: especially for someone who ISN’T pulling a trailer, grunting along at 12 miles an hour over knar moguls and side-hilling overflow and the occasional creek crossing. To be fair, it’s not Her fault. She is a short-chassis Polaris 600 with a carb that’s tuned for racing. In plain English: her throttle is either Stop or GO.

And she puts the GO in Good. On a straight-away, she would be a strong contender in a race of her own. Wait. She was. This girl ran the Iron Dog, in her day. Needless to say, she resented the stop-and-start, slow-mo riding style required for this particular application.

How does this pertain to Carhartts? Well… when our second disagreement resulted in me being unceremoniously tossed into a stand of black spruce, with Her Majesty riding my left quad like it was her kingdom, I was glad I chose the heavy gauge black outerwear as my first line of defense. Three layers of heavy fabric and my cell phone stopped a black spruce stob from puncturing my chest cavity. The studs on the machine track left a nice tattoo of purple bruises on my leg, but again- no ripping or shredding. Sorry, Mountain Hardwear, but for a proper snow machine accident: these burly overalls have no equal.

First rule of emergency response is keep yourself safe. If the medic needs a medic… well, yeah. So… the gear did its job. The Beast and I came to an agreement of sorts: I would refrain from putting two-cycle oil in her coolant tank (again) and she would only do a half-ass job of kicking mine. It seemed to work.

We covered 75 miles on Sunday, stopping to make contact with racers and checkpoint staff and get a feel for where medical services might be most needed, come nightfall.

To be continued...

White Mountains 100 Ultra Marathon: Countdown

As of today, there are ten days remaining prior to the start of the White Mountains 100 ultra-marathon. Ed, Ann and I are in a flat out race to finalize the myriad of details that comprise an inaugural race of this kind. For my part, I’m building spreadsheets and calculating and recalculating first aid and emergency medical supplies needed, determining where and when our resources may be needed most and structuring how to most efficiently administer them.

Last night, the volunteer racecourse staff met as a group for the first time. As I looked around the room, I felt a sigh of relief escaping. Strong, capable, experienced, thoughtful folks filled the room with their energy, laughter, intelligence and dedication. This race is going to be Good. The unspoken theme of last night’s meeting was the strength of purpose, the common interest we all hold dear: protecting the fragile mountain environment, limiting our impact and footprint, leaving the checkpoint cabins and the trails in better condition than when we arrived. This is also Good.

Our Bureau of Land Management representative has been a creative force in bringing all sides of this equation together, at the same table, for the betterment of each person who has volunteered their time to structure the race, as well as those who will compete.

We are a little more than a week out. To say that it feels comprehensively overwhelming from this side would be an understatement. And yet… the excitement, the energy and the sheer joy of watching this race be born are reflected in each face.

I’ll be covering this course a couple times over as a trail medic, roving EMS support, Jill-of-all-trades. I’ll also be carrying a camera and documenting this journey as we go; there is nothing quite as intriguing as the very first run of a winter, off-road, ultra-marathon in the mountains of Interior Alaska.

All racers and volunteers will be under one roof for a safety briefing on Saturday, March 20th. For me, that will be the official start of the race- and the end will be when the last bag of trash has been hauled out, the last wall tent deconstructed and the last piece of gear returned (probably some time on Wednesday the 24th). The race itself is a 60 hour epic that begins Sunday, March 21st at 8:00 AM and ends on Tuesday, March 23rd at 20:00 hrs.

Whether or not you know any of the competitors, volunteers or race organizers- and regardless of whether or not winter outdoor craziness is your thing, please join us in thought and spirit as we start something new. If you are so inclined, you can follow along at the race website for updates on racers' times and locations along the route.

For a slideshow of the mountains and the trail where this race will be held, check out the race website. And as always, check back here from time to time...

Alaska Range, Pika Glacier, Hobbit's Footstool- May 2009

I've got my blogging feet up for a bit,

but trust me... I ain't sitting still.