Vertical

Climb On.

2011-10-12T17:39:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-11-05T13:31:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-13T13:41:00.000-07:00

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...

2010-05-28T16:23:00.000-07:00

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

2010-04-13T13:39:00.000-07:00

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

2010-03-23T11:39:00.000-07:00

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

2010-03-11T09:27:00.000-08:00

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.

Vertical is featured today...

2010-02-15T08:20:00.000-08:00

Do you see the white dog in the background?

She's wondering if I've lost my mind or just my sense of direction.

VERTICAL IS FEATURED TODAY...

...At the Home Furniture Depot website. I'd link to it, but I'm pretty sure that's where this mind-sucking computer virus came from. Hours of debugging later, I feel like a real troll for even linking to their site in jest. It damn near ate me alive.
I have no idea what Vertical actually did to make it here... but there you go. I guess I need to have words with Ms. Vertical and find out what she's been up to while I've been busy dealing with real life for the last few ~~years~~ weeks.

Vertical and I need to go out for coffee and celebrate her new-found publicity. Maybe she'll give me the GPS coordinates for my gym bag, my climbing shoes and my sanity.

Yep, she's a real dog.

And nope, I didn't photoshop her in

to the top photo.

She does that to herself. Frequently.

My Review of Importika Handpresso Wild Espresso Machine

2010-02-09T10:13:00.001-08:00

Originally submitted at REI

Looking for a buzz that only a freshly brewed shot of espresso can deliver? The Importika Handpresso Wild espresso machine lets you enjoy a premium-quality drink while on the road or at the campsite.

Superior espresso from sea to summit

By Titanium from Fairbanks, AK on 2/9/2010

Gift: Yes
Pros: Easy To Clean, Great Taste, Easy To Use, Light weight, Portable, Quick Brewing
Best Uses: Cycling trips, Kayaking, Morning Coffee, Mountaineering, Backpacking
Describe Yourself: Coffee Aficionado
Primary use: Personal

I've had mine for a year now, and it has journeyed with me from the Kalalau Trail in Hawaii to the summit of Mt. Rainier in that time. By my best calculation, I have brewed more than 1,500 shots of espresso (79,500 individual pump strokes) with this gadget, with not a single glitch. I use Espresso Tiamo ESE pods, exclusively and typically enjoy Lucaffe Esquisite, Brasil Santos and Piccolo & Dolce, by the case. My Handpresso goes where I go. On cycling trips, kayaking adventures, out on to the glaciers of the Alaska Range- it has never failed to produce perfect, consistent espresso, even in bitterly cold temperatures or exceedingly hot, humid climates. I can't vouch for anyone else's experience, but I don't baby my 'presso. It takes a beating quite frequently, and practically lives in my backpack. My vote? Buy one. It doesn't get any better.

סֶלָה‎ (Selāh.)

2010-02-03T11:33:00.000-08:00

Not much to say here, right now.

Climbing a different kind of mountain, today.

It's all here.

Permitted!

2010-01-27T12:40:00.000-08:00

BLM has issued the permit for the White Mountains 100 ultra marathon! Slight change of dates, though. The permit is predicated on a start date of Sunday, March 21st rather than the Saturday date we had originally planned for.

Office dwellers: Here's Your Sign

A mad scramble of organization is about to ensue... if your name is Doug, Dave or Jed and you don't want me hounding you personally for your time, call me...

Glenn Johnson- Guest Post

2010-01-24T23:08:00.000-08:00

In May of 2009, I had the pleasure of spending two weeks climbing, glacier trekking and generally goofing off in the Alaska Range with Glenn Johnson. He hasn't stopped traveling, climbing, exploring and planning... here is an excerpt from his latest adventure!

6,288 feet…

….doesn‘t sound like much in the vertical realm, especially when bumped up against 20,320 feet…the height of Denali and my goal for 2012. I’ll be 50…half a century old…and I can’t think of a better way to celebrate five decades of life on this wonderful place we call Earth.

Little did I realize, back in 2001, that my entry into the new and exciting world of adventure racing would set me on a path to the summit of North America’s highest point, just over a decade later. But here I am, climbing rock, ice and steep, snow covered slopes in a quest to prepare myself for the physical and mental challenge of a lifetime.

Mount Washington, New Hampshire…less than half the height of Colorado’s famed “14’ers”, but still the highest point in the northeastern United States. Three distinct weather systems converge on the mountain to create the home of the “ world’s worst weather”….in 1934, the highest surface wind speed ever, was recorded here at 231mph….rumor has it that’s when the instrumentation tower blew away. The worst conditions on this mountain have been compared to the worst conditions in Antarctica….making it an ideal place to train for loftier endeavors.

They say “third time’s the charm”, and this year that rang true for me, in my attempts at setting foot on top of this relatively small mountain. On 17 January 2010, at approximately 2:30pm, I reached the summit and posed for the obligatory picture, mountaineering axe raised in a salute of victory…but my happiness with our success (my friends Jason and Jared had joined me in this adventure) was tempered by the knowledge that we were only at the halfway point. Not until we were safely back at the trailhead could we call the day a success.

February 2003, just 600 feet from the summit, and my first trip to Mt. Washington…our group of four was hunkered down behind a small rock cairn as winds gusting up to 40mph buffeted us, sending the freshly fallen snow swirling up and around us, enveloping us a in a total whiteout. Two members of our party (eager, young college students from Harvard) insisted on continuing to the top…our designated leader and guide was waffling, torn between getting his clients to their goal and retreating to safety...I was making my case for retreat. After I pointed out the facts….10 foot visibility (barely) and a 500 foot vertical drop, off a nearby headwall, should we miss a crucial change in our direction of travel on the descent from the summit….our group reluctantly turned around and headed down.

Fast forward a year…same month, same mountain….this time we had hiked up to Hermit Lake the day before our summit push, and spent a very, very cold night in shelters that blocked the winds ripping off of the summit and down Tuckerman Ravine…a zero degree bag does little more than keep your body temperature at 96.8 when it’s 15 below, by the way. As we reluctantly roused ourselves from our chilly cocoons, well before sunrise, the resident National Park Service climbing ranger uncharacteristically stepped into our spartan accommodations….we soon found out why, as the weather forecast called for 75mph winds at the summit that day, along with an impressive -75 degree wind chill. He advised that he couldn’t stop us from going up, if we still wished to, but highly recommended against it….in other words, he was saying “please don’t go, because I don’t want to come rescue you”….unlike the previous year, I did not have to talk my companions into spending the day exploring the gullies of Huntington Ravine in sunny, almost windless conditions, while the forecast winds sent huge plumes of spindrift over our heads, from the Alpine Garden plateau a thousand feet above us.

So here I was, seven years after my first visit, standing at the top of the “world’s smallest, most dangerous mountain”…marveling at the relative ease at which we had attained our goal. The entire climb had been unseasonably warm and graced with bluebird skies…even the ever present winds had been relatively benign. But as we sipped water and snacked in preparation for our descent, the skies began to cloud over, obscuring Old Sol….twenty minutes later we picked our way down the summit cone in visibility that had dropped to a hundred feet, while winds gusting to 30mph made us walk like drunken sailors as we moved from cairn to cairn.

After we were across the Alpine Garden safely, and in the lee of the huge rock formation known as Lion’s Head, we picked our way down to tree line as the visibility improved….below, in the trees, we had one more challenge….a near vertical descent down 20 feet of icy, snowy boulders. A challenge which we safely negotiated, followed by a round of congratulations on traveling to, and returning from, the summit.

While the mountain allowed us an easy trip to its top, it gave us a gentle pat on the behind as we descended….a reminder that it could be as equally malevolent, as it was benevolent.

________________________________

Alaska Range, Big Arapiles

Alaska Range, col near Italy's Boot

Alaska Range, Hobbit's Footstool

Alaska Range- Playin' with da Boys

(L to R: Chetan, Ti, Bill- and....Glenn)

The Story Behind the Picture

2010-01-18T08:56:00.000-08:00

The Trolls... from Big Arapiles, Pika Glacier, Alaska Range

Today, an essay of mine was published on Indie Ink. The essence of the journey that led me to stand here in the Alaska Range and take this photograph is captured in a few words over there, if you happen to stop by.

Waiting Game

2010-01-13T13:21:00.000-08:00

The comment period has ended and now it's just a matter of sitting on my hands and waiting to hear that BLM has issued the permit for the White Mountains 100. Ed, Ann and I sat down last week and started roughing in a draft of the safety plan for the race, which led to a flurry of phone calls and some interesting conversations with a local fire chief about any potential rescue options available to racers/volunteers- should emergent need arise.

Nobody likes to think about worst case scenario, but that's the part of this race I signed up for: contingency management. With MAST service from Ft. Wainwright being discontinued, backcountry rescue options in the Interior of Alaska are ground-based for the foreseeable future. Alaska State Troopers are not medics and are not equipped to transport patients, yet that corner of the White Mountains would fall to their purview- with road ambulance support provided by Steese Volunteer Fire Department, once the patient arrives at the road.

That leaves me with the conundrum: how to safely transport a patient 20+ miles from any given location in the race to the trailhead. Steese Fire Department has a fleet of snow machines and a rescue sled capable of safely and efficiently transporting a patient in off-road environments; however, this equipment is strictly paid for by fire service district members and is for use within that district. The only way to secure the assistance of this department, their staff and their medical equipment/rescue transport for an off-road rescue outside the fire service area, is to pay for it.

Where the rubber meets the road: as a volunteer, I will be all over that course for three to four days. I'd like to think I'm not susceptible to spinal injury or severe medical emergency, but that is just idiocy. My personal solution? I did what I do for all of my serious backcountry endeavors: insured my event participation through TravelEx. Medical evacuation/rescue, medical expenses, AD&D... all covered. I don't expect the White Mountains 100 organization to foot the bill for a rescue- after all, just insuring the basic operation of the race is daunting enough.

To me, securing individual insurance coverage just seems like the responsible thing to do. That way, if something goes badly- I don't have stop and tabulate the cost of a backcountry rescue that would otherwise be billed directly to me. Hopefully, the whole event will be smooth sailing... but I'm not in the mood for playing Russian Roulette with my family's finances.

____________________________________________

Where do you stand on this? Should each participant take responsibility for their own involvement in this event?

Banff Mountain Film Festival World Tour

2010-01-11T09:53:00.000-08:00

COMING TO FAIRBANKS

February 7, 2010

Davis Concert Hall (UAF)

Sunday, 6:00 PM

Tickets are on sale now at the Wood Center

and at Beaver Sports...

$10 Advance, $12 at the door

Check out the Intro on You Tube

For complete information on World Tour for North America locations,

click HERE.

For information on the 2009/10 World Tour Films,

click HERE.

Open Season

2010-01-07T16:12:00.000-08:00

...for kayaking at the Hamme Pool on Monday nights! It was fairly quiet this past Monday, and with the exception of the fact that my daughter kept stealing my boat- a good time was had by all.

The Down-Low:

When: Every Monday unless otherwise posted, from 7:00 PM - 9:00 PM from January 4th - May 10th

Where: Hamme Pool

Why: Because it's open water that isn't the lower Chena by the power plant

Cost: $3.75

**Packrafters welcome! (Ed, that's you!)

Solstice

2010-01-04T13:14:00.000-08:00

Winter Solstice, Alaska Style

Lake Angeles Trail in Winter

2009-12-23T17:21:00.000-08:00

Stream crossing, Lake Angeles Trail

Soft crunch of wet snow underfoot, the scent of ancient cedar and fir trees through the mist; finding precarious footing on icy stream crossings- up and up and up the trail I went. Lake Angeles seemed a simple objective, even after a recent storm brought fresh snow by the truckload. Seven miles came and went too quickly, I couldn’t stop gulping insane quantities of the heavily humidified air.

Standing on Lake Angeles, looking up toward Klahane Ridge

The turnaround point made itself clearly evident- without an ice axe and crampons, and with the pressing late afternoon dusk settling in- and back to civilization, begrudgingly trudging.

System Fail

2009-12-16T12:17:00.000-08:00

I got all psyched up yesterday and posted about my big plans for an epic workout, replete with some freshly-imported pomegranate juice. What the heck does that have to do with ANYTHING? (I’m asking myself that, today).

I very nearly had to pour some vodka-laced POM Wonderful in my cry-hole when I came home from work last night to find that the sole source of heat in our little home had decided to substitute an “EE 2” message for actual warmth. The ambient temperature at floor level was about 28 degrees. For those of you (blessedly) unfamiliar with monitors… I will let you remain happy and blissfully content with your:

a) oil burning boilers

b) wood fired boilers

c) electric heat

d) coal furnace

e) wood stove

f) elves-making-fire-with-solvent-and-matchsticks

g) island home in Maui... or Australia...

Because right now, I’ve got a Toyo L73 you can just plain have for free. And a dog, too. Actually, scratch that. She is Jeff’s dog, and in his world, she is a person. Said PERSON clawed the front door open yesterday morning while ~~her sleeping companion~~ Jeff was resting. The -10 degree temperatures that consequently invaded the house caused the monitor to go into hyper-drive before deciding that enough is enough.

So… I arrive home from work to a very cold house. And kitchen trash spread from the entry way to the living room, lovingly, even… as if a PERSON named Ivory had thought she had a free pass (being in a refrigerated environment and all) and decided to redecorate with the trappings of dinners-of-yore.

The workout quickly deteriorated into rapid finger poking at monitor buttons, a choreographed dance around the trash-strewn floor, and raising the room temperature with the heat emanating from my sizzling cranium. That’s gotta be good for the metabolism, right?

What's wrong with this picture? Set for 75 degrees? Are you kidding me? I'd burn through an entire year's supply of heating oil in two months if I set the thing that high. Ever.

You can see why I can't ACTUALLY give her away.

But you can kinda tell from the look on their faces that they suspect I might consider it from time to time.

White Mountains 100

2009-12-11T10:31:00.000-08:00

Ed Plumb has organized a backcountry 100 mile race through the White Mountains north of Fairbanks to take place in March, 2010.

The Fairbanks Daily News Miner has an extensive arcticle on the proposed course and the ongoing permitting process through BLM.

The White Mountains 100 is the first ultra race of its kind in the Interior of Alaska. 50 participants have already signed up to ski/bike/foot race this incredible loop and the waiting list is growing... so what's the hold up? Well, at this point, the Bureau of Land Management is conflicted, bewildered and befuzzled as to how to deal with the "public" who might also want to use the trail system during that time frame. At this point, the cumulative footprint of racers, volunteers and checkpoint staff is about 65 people.

Just to put it in perspective... on any given day on the Chilkoot Trail (a national historic trail crossing between the US and Canada) there are permits issued to 50 people.per.day. That's right, folks. It is possible to actually coexist with Boy Scout Troops, doctors, dentists, an errant globe trekker or 30 and SHARE space, including public use cabins. It can be done. I know, because I did it.

One possibility raised, due to the concern for those who might feel displaced by the racers utilizing the trails and cabin resources, was that perhaps the race organizers should haul in wall tents (ala Arctic Ovens).

Hmmmm. Okay. Stellar monument to "we actually don't give a crap about environment impact or footprint". The thought of multiple trail runs with multiple snow machines to haul in wall tents in order to set them up next to the public use cabins is... ludicrous. Honestly, aren't the racers public users, too? Last I checked, 34 of the 50 racers are from Fairbanks. So.... they are local. They are athletic. They are outdoors-people of the finest caliber. They are fast and light on their feet- and they will cover this course in well under 60 hours. They aren't looking to camp out in a cabin and use the outhouse multiple times. In fact.... oh... me oh my... they might use the "facilities" a whole lot less than the average potato chip munching, beer drinking snowmachiner who drives all they way out there to spend the night(s).

Just sayin. My take on it is this: Ed and the gang are experienced Alaskan ultra-racers with a proven track record of safety in the backcountry and an environmental conscience. Let 'em race. Let this group have an equal opportunity to enjoy the playground that is the White Mountains in winter... with all the slush, overflow, open water, 7,000 ft of vertical climbing, extreme temperatures and unpredictable snow conditions.

I'm putting my money where my mouth is. I've dropped my name in the hat to volunteer to staff a checkpoint, transport gear/racers to and from the start/finish, help do a gear drop prior to the race, clean up afterwards and offer race support as a medic. Hey, I'm the public, too. I just arrive on scene with a med kit, backpack and skis instead of blazing around the tundra with a two-cycle engine screaming and gas/oil fumes rolicking in my wake.

BLM has a comment period open to the public right now. Click here to email them with your take on the situation. Or, if you are the pen-and-paper type, write 'em a letter. Just make sure to do it before 01/07/10.

BLM Eastern Interior Field Office

1150 University Avenue

Fairbanks, AK 99709

Attn: Collin Cogley

Use it up.

2009-12-01T11:22:00.000-08:00

Somewhere between the 147th and 163rd floor, as credited by the blinking digital readout of the stair-master, it occurred to me that I was holding back. Keeping energy in reserve. Showing inordinate amounts of restraint. A stiff cardio workout is no time to be ladylike, nor is it necessary to be dainty. I was sweating like a farm worker, heart rate was in the high end of mouth-breathing-necessity…. But something was missing. My mind was wandering to lists of things undone, mundane and ordinary things, and my music might as well have been Gregorian chanting.

Survival dictates rationing energy when necessary, but the gym is an uncomfortably hot 72 degrees in that corner. Ruling out ambient weather conditions left me with the solid facts: strength and endurance have increased. If my mind is wandering, I’m not working hard enough. Holding energy in reserve for what? Cooking dinner? Wrangling homework with a 4th Grader? (Hmmm… that one has merit.)

“Do, or do not. There is no ‘try’.” Thank you, Yoda.

Mouth-Breathing or Yelling? I can't tell...

Sunrise at -30

2009-11-20T10:44:00.000-08:00

Pink and yellow horizon blending to soft blue and a deeper, darker blue as the trees wait, motionless and silent, frost hanging from their branches. The mountains are backlit and step from the edge of the world like purple cardboard cut-outs, surreal and vivid all at once.

The air is heavy, weighted with the scent of burnt coffee beans from a nearby café. They roast their own batches- sometimes for the better, sometimes not.

I lace cold fingers around a small pottery mug; kiln fired in Kauai, it’s delicate shape carefully crafted by a Buddhist monk in a place where snow doesn’t happen.

Recipe for Fun

2009-11-16T09:51:00.000-08:00

Take four chronologically-challenged youngsters, add one kid and three dogs. Mix in two snow machines, temperatures below zero and fresh powder snow. Add sleds and helmets and goggles. And ice the whole mess with kayaks and paddling gear!

After years of weighing the pros and cons of kayaking Ester Dome (that sentence in itself is just WRONG), Matt and Jeff hatched a plot that included some pretty wild first descents off the top of the Dome. In their kayaks.

It's a small world, after all...

2009-11-12T15:48:00.000-08:00

The Baroness has spoken : officially, I have engaged in kick-assery.

LOVE it.

Rockin' the Ice

2009-10-26T10:26:00.000-07:00

'Tis the season for ice climbing in the Canadian Rockies! Julia Niles and Rockies Ice Specialists are ringing in yet another year of flash pumps, fat ice and epic sending in Canmore.

There's fun for everyone...

Grim Litmus Test

2009-10-13T12:25:00.000-07:00

You know you’re a hardcore kayaker when you’re day-trippin’ on the whitewater in Alaska, in October. That would be my husband's forte, not mine.

Over the weekend, he and his friend Matt ran Willow Creek at about 600 cfs. A shade bulkier than the run (er, bump and grind) we made earlier this summer. Okay, okay. About three times the water volume.

Luckily, he was wearing a dry suit this time. He got sucked over by a cross current and dumped, in spite of his best bracing (his brace displaces more water than Noah’s freakin’ ark). So… my boy swam whitewater. And when that failed, he rolled his way out of the current. That’s right! The rocks, rapids and waves made swimming impossible. So with his feet and lower legs getting bashed against the rocks and with the river pushing him relentlessly toward the next rapids, he executed multiple body rolls toward the river bank(while holding on to his Werner paddle).

The fun did not end there… Matt caught up to his boat downriver after the second try, but the walls of the canyon were too steep for Jeff to just walk down the bank. He had to swim the canyon. Yeah… not once, but twice. Jump into the water, paddle and all, and let the river push him downstream to a take-out.

Okay, I don’t need a scientific test to tell me that if I were in his cute little water shoes I would NOT be jumping into whitewater, in a canyon, under any circumstances. This may be a sign that I exercised prudent judgment in NOT going on this trip.

He was grinning from ear to ear when he relayed the account of the recent epic. Calm, rational and pragmatic to the end, his commentary could be summed up by his last sentence, “I just did what I had to do. It was no big deal.”

Synergy

2009-10-08T18:35:00.000-07:00

Kauai, March 2009 Backpacking the Kalalau Trail

The sum of all the parts is greater than the whole… or the hole… if you’ve ever tried to get something back into its original box.

I’m a loner by default. Not by design. I actually enjoy human companionship, intelligent conversation, Scrabble® games by candlelight, sharing my toys and ideas with others. It’s a recent discovery, though. For most of my life, my favorite saying could be condensed into

IH8PPL …and no… I didn’t use it as my license plate. It was already taken.

I can count my close friends on the fingers of one hand; by close I mean people that I would trust to regulate the morphine drip if I were having toenails surgically removed. Because those same friends are independent, capable, strong-minded and busy… I don’t see them as often as I’d like (and yes, that includes my husband, Jeff).

He’s made a lot of concessions over the years, accommodating, supporting, encouraging and believing in me. He maintains a twinkle in his eyes when I start to say things like, “This trip won’t cost too much; we already have most of the gear we would need…”

(That’s code for “we’ll be paying for this trip for five long years”.)

The decision to climb the volcanoes of Mexico wasn’t one of those kind of things, though. It was born of the desire to continue building toward Aconcagua, the decision to challenge myself with back to back climbs at altitudes above 17,000 feet. And the determination to dedicate the journey and the climb to a woman who continues to inspire me with her tenacious hold on life and sanity, in spite of everything.

I found myself not wanting to undertake this journey alone. Wanting to share the view with a friend and relive the journey from end to end with someone who knows the whole story. He wants to join me. There is a mountain of work between my hero and his standing beside me on the top of a glaciated peak. That will be a story for him to tell, someday.

I want to climb with Jeff. We hike together, camp together, kayak together (when I can keep up), and have shared some incredible experiences. I have harbored a hope that we would enjoy this sport together, as well, but had no desire to pressure him to join me. He is looking at mountaineering boots right now… weighing their technical merit, gauging their warmth vs. weight ratios and analyzing every aspect.

I’m excited and a little scared. There’s a lot at stake, actually. I can travel alone, I can climb alone, I can disappear for weeks on end for lengthy expeditions. But I will not do it. I don’t want to resign him to a life of staying behind to keep the household running so that I can touch the sky. The very first time I planned a climbing trip to the Alaska Range, I wrote him a letter… attempted to express all of these things and more. And I promised to evaluate the cost of my climbing on our relationship- and make changes accordingly.

Now I’m planning another climbing trip…with him. I am the luckiest woman in the world.

Change in Breathing

2009-09-24T11:11:00.000-07:00

Mt. Hayes, up close and personal

Each breath felt like it cost a nickel or maybe I just had a lung full of pocket change, and that was just the first mile of the run. My quads and glutes were shrieking, “God, woman, you just thrashed us twenty four hours ago and now you want-to-whattttt???”

It’s not like I woke up this morning and wanted to hurt. It just sort of happens. It’s the penalty phase for slacking. The first week back into quasi-serious training, and I am whining like a reality show contestant.

The cure? Hair of the dog. More training, longer runs and heavier weights. Gut check discovery of the month? I’ve gotten soft. Right down to the lack of callous on my dainty little paws and that precious little extra something around my middle. Niiiiiiiiiiiiiice.

Life is one massive triage, and gushing, spurting kid problems have to be addressed- sometimes to the detriment of a workout. Horror.

Breathe in, breathe out. Third mile coming to a close, and things were starting to limber up. That’s when a motor bike came screaming down Summit drive and crossed onto the bike path, without stopping. I was half a mile away, and self-righteously shaking my head. The rider crested the hill and I went back to the business of slogging- until I arrived at the top of the hill. The sun had come out, the sky had cleared and the Alaska Range was in full view. Alpenglow lit the flanks of Mt. Hayes in the distance and it stopped me cold. Fresh snow on the jagged edges, rounding ice fall into soft-looking couloirs.

The evil motorist was quietly leaning on the seat of bike… taking photos of the panoramic splendor. I felt small, considering my instant-aggression-just-add-running shoes approach. We shared the view, silently.

“Good day to have a camera handy…” I ventured.

“Yeah, I rode down here just to photograph it. The sun, the mountains- pretty wild, huh?” he wasn’t evil, just in a hurry to capture a rare glimpse of autumn’s fiery glow before winter doused the vista in blanket of slush.

I continued on my run, my opinionated self laced a little less tightly.

Looking Up

2009-09-15T13:25:00.000-07:00

Crater Rim of Pico de Orizaba

After months of research and agonizing over not BEING in the mountains, I’ve finally settled on the next proximal objective: Chitlalcotepetl (El Pico de Orizaba- 18,850’) and Iztaccihuatl ("Izta" 17,343’) third and seventh highest peaks in North America. These two volcanoes are glaciated peaks rising impressively above the central plateau in the heart of Mexico.

The plan is to climb the peaks back-to-back in November, 2010 over the course of eight or nine days. The agonizing part is waiting that long. As much I wanted to drop everything and go this fall, it isn’t going to happen.

It seems strange to be looking outside Alaska for climbing opportunities- especially since I live here. At this juncture, though, it's critical to climb at altitude above 14,000 feet and make sure this sea-level girl can get her mountain lungs dialed in. Sometimes it's hard to vocalize an objective that is more than a year out; I much prefer little discussion and lots of follow-through. As I build toward the larger goals, it's good to have input- and support.

So, here goes...

September Sun

2009-09-08T14:01:00.000-07:00

A Stroll Down Memory Lane

Beautiful Granite Slab, Begging to be Climbed

Roxy, enjoying the view

Birch Solo

In the 'Recliner', Tiny Toes

View from the crack

Silhouette

What's On Your Wall?

2009-09-02T13:26:00.000-07:00

It’s been six years and when I stand up too quickly, it feels like yesterday. Cantering a gorgeous, spirited Quarab through fields flecked with fallen leaves, marveling at the sound and scent of saddle leather.

He was an eight year old gelding, a Quarter/Arabian blend named Cinnamon Twist and his owner was pretty sure he hadn’t been saddled for more than two years. Observing him from the fence rail of his corral, I watched him boss around even the oldest, bossiest mare. He had attitude in spades. My friend, Deb, had asked me to take a look and see what I could do with him. I had a history of gentling finicky Appaloosas and had never met a horse I didn’t like.

We started slow and easy, with small talk and handfuls of alfalfa grass and progressed to easing a halter over suspicious ears, and leading him in wide circles within the confines of the round pen. His gait was a beauty. Clean, long lines and a powerful stride that simply ate up the ground… Within just a couple of weeks, he was accepting a saddle and seemed to be recalling everything he had ever learned about tolerating humans (the apple slices probably didn’t hurt my cause).

Fast forward to the lovely autumn day… that I will always remember as the FALL of 2003…

Cinnamon Twist and I had spent 45 minutes working through paces in the round pen, and he was behaving beautifully. Cue my light bulb moment… I decided that it was time to take him out in the open fields. Deb saddled her horse and led the way down miles of quiet trails, opening to grassy fields. CT quietly took his place behind the lead horse and responded quickly to leg, voice and rein commands. I was thrilled. Overjoyed to be riding, really riding, again- as opposed to slogging through training commands between fence posts.

It happened so fast that at first I wasn’t even certain which end was up. Out of nowhere, a dog musher and team came streaking through the field, from the woods. The dogs caught the scent of the horses and went into full cry, running straight toward us. CT actually lost his mind, right on the spot. He bucked. He sun-fished. He reared. He post-holed. He managed to do several at once. And took the bit in his teeth… and ran. Long after the dogs had vanished, barking and howling, back into the woods… CT was a ball of exploding venom. Time seemed to stand still, and then, so did he. Abruptly. From a dead run to a complete stop-and-buck. My “Velcro” came loose and over his head I went. With one foot still secured in the stirrup, I sailed past his head and heard the melon-pop of my cranium cracking the ground. And then he was dragging me. By one foot. In an ever-tightening circle. Determined to be rid of the alien source of his suffering, he jerked and reared and cut me loose with such force that I’m pretty sure my leg bounced off my shoulder. I didn’t have time to contemplate, because he wasn’t done. The next thing I remember, grinding, searing, crushing pain coursed through my entire lower body. CT had come back around and actually stomped my ass. Crushed my sacroiliac joint and fractured my pelvis, too. Instinct drove to me to curl up in a fetal position, but the only thing I could move was my arms. I covered my neck and head and lay still. Silent. Black waves dancing in front of my eyes. He was circling back. Bloodshot eyes, ears pinned back, he was hell-bent on finishing the job.

I closed my eyes. I just didn’t have what it took to watch myself getting killed. I heard a rush of hooves, an angry voice, the crack of leather and bodies colliding. Deb had run her horse straight into CT, knocking him off balance, and driving him away from where I lay. I heard him fade into the field, running like he was possessed. And all went black and quiet.

When I opened my eyes, I was alone in the field. Nothing but sun and sky and grass and dirt, tilting, topsy-turvy and out of order. I wasn’t moving, and yet the whole world was rushing by. I couldn’t move my legs. Eventually, the medics came and with them a rush of backboard, straps, chocks and a gurney… I had worked as a medic, but never had need to call an ambulance. It was novel, being the one with the blood pressure monitor automatically inflating on my arm, the pulse oximeter beeping, the IV drip, drip, dripping. I kept wanting to laugh. But no sound came out.

Acronyms bounced me through the corridors of the ER: xrays, MRI, CT scans… the verdict came in on wings of muscle relaxants and pain killers. Pelvic fracture 2mm from my spine… “disrupted” (crushed) SI joint, internal bleeding, concussion… and worst of all, hospital-grade coffee. Not that I was allowed to have any. The great surgery debate was raging: one of the doctors wanted to operate immediately to pin the whole mess back together. Another argued that I was “stabilizing” and wanted to wait until some of the swelling subsided. Hours came and went in a drug-induced haze, occasionally illuminated by nauseating pain. The kind that tells you that you’re still alive. The moment that I recognized pain in my legs, I cried with relief. The swelling and the fracture so near the spinal cord had caused temporary paralysis, it seemed.

The next 20 weeks are mercifully blurred in my memory. I had started a new job only three months prior to the accident and had only a few days of paid leave available. Taking time off without pay would jeopardize my health insurance. I returned to work, in a wheelchair, unable to stand or walk. I refused surgery, on the grounds that the recovery time would require even more time away from work and the four college classes I was taking at night. Yep, I had signed up for a full semester of classes and was a month into the school year… in a wheelchair… in Alaska… with a three year old child to care for.

I quickly found that most things presumed to be “handicap accessible” are, in fact, a joke. Ever tried carrying school books, wheeling your chair through un-shoveled, snowy parking lots- up an icy ramp- only to try to figure out how to open a door that swings OUT?? Yeah… that was almost as fun as trying to wheel my chair through cubicle-world where I was working as a file clerk in a government office, supporting a staff of twelve case workers whose sole purpose in life was to generate paper files and throw them randomly on the floor. For me to pick up. And sort. From a wheelchair. Some of them even thought it was funny.

Somehow, I powered through. Sleeping in a recliner, at a 45 degree angle, was the only way to take the pressure off the screaming nerve endings in crushed sciatic nerve #1. After twelve weeks with the beast I had come to know as “The Chair”, I progressed to a walker. Ah, shuffle and slide. The goodness of standing erect again, sort of. Mercifully, I continued to heal. The doctor shrugged when I suggested that I wanted to pursue alternative medicine in lieu of the painkiller cocktail he had prescribed. The thought of medicating my life away seemed appealing, but a rather short term solution to a long term problem. I enrolled in physical therapy. Ground my teeth through massage therapy to restore circulation… felt like it was destroying my sanity, really. Went back for a six month check up… and the doctor x-rayed and hemmed and hawed and said, “Well, you’ll never carry a backpack again. Your structure just won’t take that kind of abuse. You might want to look at cycling on a recumbent bike or maybe power walking. And no more bench pressing, squatting, leg presses or running. Actually, no more sports at all. If you fall, even once, you risk a fracture that could result in permanent paralysis.”

I listened. I think I even heard and remembered the words. I inscribed them on my mind’s wall. And I shuffled to the gym. With my cane. Peddled a recumbent bike, put myself through physical therapy, and waited for the interminable winter to end. When winter ended, I put on a pack and hiked the Gold Mint Trail in Hatcher Pass. Past the mountain hut, past the tarn and the boulder field and sat at the top of the water fall… the source of Archangel Creek… and looked down the valley. For five days, I climbed and hiked and explored. Cautiously at first, then with abandon. There was pain- dull and insistent and constant, with occasional pangs like glass shards on cement. There was a sense of peace unlike anything I had ever experienced.

As to the doctor’s words? Next to their inscription on the wall (mostly brick) in my head, I’ve scratched some dates. My first 10k race. Hiking the Chilkoot Trail in Southeast Alaska. 100k bike races. Several of them. Hiking the Kalalau Trail in Kauai. Climbing in the Alaska Range on the Pika Glacier. Summiting Mt. Rainier.

It has been six years, and when I stand up too quickly it feels like yesterday.

Denali Discussion

2009-08-24T16:09:00.000-07:00

Flying in to the Pika Glacier, Alaska Range, May 2009

I keep telling myself to table the discussion indefinitely. I don’t have the funding, the sponsorship or the capital to pursue Denali at this point. Originally, it wasn’t even my idea… I was contracted to train a client who was pursuing the goal of climbing Denali in 2010. When medical issues made it readily apparent that she would be unable to do so, I tried to readjust my goals accordingly. But the Great One is sort of stuck in my head.

Geared up... Little Switzerland, Alaska Range, May 2009

The Trolls, view from the summit of Big Arapiles, Pika Glacier

It was a stretch to convince my family that I need to take off into the Alaska Range for two weeks this past May, I have a feeling that pushing for a three week expedition next summer is going fall as flat as a bad soufflé.

Heading toward summit plateau, Big Arapiles

Why Denali? I felt less self conscious about the idea of climbing the West Buttress autobahn when I was fulfilling a contract with a client. It’s a trade route, no doubt about it. Difficult, tyrannical weather-heavily crevassed below 14,000 feet- and covered in aspiring climbers from all over the world. It’s also a definitive landmark that has lurked in my backyard for the last 33 years. Am I just suffering mountain-withdrawal? Reaching for the nearest of the seven summits for some reassurance that I will climb again, soon? If I can’t honestly answer as to why the faint strains of Denali’s siren song are echoing in my head… am I nuts?

Yes, she can ski that kind of terrain... that's Julia Niles,

girl guide extraordinaire, ski-mountaineer, ice climber...

A few thoughts:

· I like to plan things WAYYYY in advance. Months good, years better.
· Denali is a “pre-requisite peak” for many of the more technical climbs I’d like to do.
· Expedition experience of such duration is hard to come by, and would be hard-earned.
· As much as I would like to climb Aconcagua first, I want to climb via the Polish route which requires a lot of ice climbing experience and high altitude technical climbing skills. That will take some time.
· Physically, I could be ready to climb Denali by May 2010. I have the basic gear, the basic skills, and the gnawing drive to DO IT.
· It would be nice to build on the work I’ve done this year and continue to develop the mountaineering skills in a high altitude environment.

A few hang-ups:

· Family support (that is asking a lot)
· Financial ability (that is really the crux of the whole thing)
· 130 hours of leave (could be possible)

And a deep, nagging need to take on the challenge...

So you think you want to climb Mt. Rainier?

2009-08-03T09:58:00.000-07:00

After all, the NFL commissioner did it- so it can’t be THAT difficult, right? Hmmm. Okay, well, you’ll get over that soon enough. Let me guess, you’ve been training hard for a year now, right? Climbing stairs (trails, step mills, stair masters) with a heavy pack… walking instead of driving… and you’ve dropped a deposit on the guided trip of your choice (mostly based on the days you were able to take off from work).

First of all, climbing up and down flights of stairs with a heavy pack on is just another way to destroy the remainder of the connective tissue in your knees, hips and ankles. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Here’s some food for thought: mountains aren’t climbed straight up and down like a staircase. If they were, anybody (including you) could put on a pack and just walk up and down. Think back to the 12 Day Mountaineering Course you participated in recently; roped glacier travel, walking/climbing in crampons, self-arrest, self-belay… what’s that? You didn’t take a mountaineering course? Huh?

Do not advance to “Go”, do not even think of peak bagging until you have some idea of what you are getting into. I know, the Muir route is billed as an “easy, walk-up route” and it’s only a three day climb… any ole person could do that, right? Hmmm.

Providing you did have the wisdom and foresight to prepare for climbing by taking a mountaineering course, you should have some basic tools in your toolbox. Dust them off, and follow me to the next topic: The Gear List. Of course you can rent most if not all of the required gear from the guiding outfit. But should you? Only if you want to take a chance on boots that may not fit properly and might even take chunks of your heels as a souvenir, a pack that mysteriously sways from side to side in spite of every effort to control it, and the chance that your trip may not have the outcome you desire (missing heel chunks can do that to an expedition). Consider this: you wouldn’t take off on a marathon in used running shoes that you have never tried before. Or maybe you would. In that case, you are NOT OKAY and should immediately seek professional help. I realize that plastic mountaineering boots don’t require a break-in period, blah, blah, blah… but the LINERS of these boots are in direct contact with your feet (and were in direct contact with the feet of the 18 climbers who preceded you) and it is possible that the liners are worn down just a bit, maybe even lost some of their cushioning, and they might even smell like someone else’s sweaty feet. Just saying. As for your backpack… in a world where companies like Osprey make custom heat moldable hip belts (male/female specific, too) and size them to fit your torso length perfectly… why on earth would you take a chance on loading a pack with 65 pounds of junk and finding out halfway through the first day of the climb that it is wearing a hole in your iliac crest? I promise you, it is not a super cool discovery. Climbing harness? That seems easy enough. You really only need it for this trip (or so you think) and the guiding outfit seems confident that their trusty Alpine Bod will serve you just fine. Ladies, ladies. Come on! When is the last time you put one of those one and wore it all day long for several days? Do yourself a favor and buy an Arcteryx A300. The gear loops are removable (hmmmm… novel concept, considering that you will be wearing the pack OVER the climbing harness and the gear loops would otherwise provide for a dynamic shift in where the pack rests).

By now, you’re wondering if you can afford to do this trip on the shoestring budget you had planned. Anything is possible, but a few good pieces of your own gear could make all the difference between summiting and tapping out halfway through the trip. There are a few items you can safely rent from your guiding outfit: sleeping bag, closed cell foam pad, ice axe, possibly crampons (depends on which boots you bought, but we’ll get to that in a minute), avalanche transceiver, over-mitts, climbing hardware (belay device, ascender, ice screw). Beyond that, you pretty much want to dial in your own clothing system well in advance. This goes back to the rant about renting boots… wouldn’t you want to make sure that the layers you have chosen to protect you at 14,000 ft. actually will work well together AND you can work around them to relieve yourself while roped up to a team and in a climbing harness? Not feeling confident? Better practice. A lot.

Oh, the joys… that is a topic that seldom gets full coverage (no pun totally intended). However, it is a critical issue- especially for female climbers. There are no statistics readily available as to how many women lose out on a summit bid because they are dehydrated as a result of decreasing their fluid intake on the approach. Yes, it is awkward to deal with Nature’s call under these circumstances. But making a choice to NOT DRINK fluids in order to avoid having to pee is a recipe for failure. Guaranteed. And that doesn’t just apply to female climbers…

Now that this article has turned into a list of “Do’s and Don’ts” let’s hit the basics, starting with a good training program. If you are a well-conditioned athlete who regularly cross trains between 15-25 hours a week, add in some multi-day hikes over rough terrain, with significant elevation gain, that are more than 30 miles in total length. Put on a 65 pound pack and hike up and down hills, ravines, gulches, river crossings, ridgelines, cliff faces and marsh bogs for 8-10 hours at time. Set up your tent. Sleep with your tent on an incline with no less than three hummocks, rocks and holes under your sleeping pad. If there is no wind blowing, have your tent partner slap you with a dirty sock, randomly, as soon as you doze off. Then wake up and do it all over again, increasing your mileage and hiking hours by half. Still feel like a well-conditioned athlete? Congratulations. You’ll survive the latter half of the trip just fine.

Starting to wonder if I’m exaggerating? Try it. Or not. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. If the above training hike completely decimates you for a week, or you are unable to plan/complete a wilderness hike, stop and consider whether or not you are going to enjoy winter camping at altitude after aggressively climbing for 8-10 hours a day (or more). The wind blows, it often rains even on the glacier, and sleep can be elusive- especially if the guides snore. (They have learned to sleep under these conditions, which means that you are likely to be wide awake, with your tent lashed to theirs, on a ledge of snow chipped out of the side of the glacier, with the wind howling and the sound of their peaceful sleep resonating in your ears). Be sure to include ear plugs in your personal gear.

This is by no means a comprehensive gear checklist, overview of climbing conditions or even sound advice. It is simply a collection of random thoughts on preparing to climb. If I were to pinpoint the crux of any trip, it would be the living room floor. The most important stage of your trip is your personal gear check. If you haven’t comprehensively constructed a gear pile that it nearly equal to your climbing objective, well… there’s going to be plenty of time to wish you had. Try out each piece of gear. Test it. Wear it. Climb in the sleeping bag (preferably while in a tent, on a multi-day hike).

Knees giving you trouble? It’s unconventional, but I recommend training for your climb by cycling. A lot. Long distance grinders with loads of hills will build the same quad, hamstring and calf muscles that you will come to rely on when climbing. Cycle for hours at a stretch, learning to hydrate, refuel, pace yourself, breathe, and eventually do it all with minimal effort. Then fill your panniers with heavy, bulky items and ride for hours with greater wind resistance and more weight to push uphill. Believe me, you will thank yourself later for this bit of ingenious torture. Right about the time that you summit with a big smile on your face, instead of crying like the NFL commissioner did. Contrary to the bit of folk wisdom I hear bantered about from time to time, you don’t have to be a marathon runner to climb big mountains. Having the strength and endurance comparable to a marathon runner is enviable, but there are no absolutes. I had a guy tell me once that if I couldn’t sustain an 8 minute mile pace for 26 miles that I couldn’t climb a mountain. Huh. That’s one person’s theory… and I still don’t run unless a bear is chasing me.

When it’s all said and done, be honest with yourself about where you stand. What is your conditioning level? If you honestly don’t know how to gauge it, find a qualified, certified personal trainer and ask them to help you figure it out. We have our ways....

Rule of thumb, if you are a guy- you probably have overestimated your fitness level and capability by at least 1/3. If you are a woman, you have most likely underestimated by ½. If you don’t know who you are, I can’t help you. It’s all good. That’s why starting your planning process, training program and gear accumulation well in advance of any given trip is highly advisable. When in doubt, do your own research. There is an enormous amount of information available about every piece of gear, incredible beta on every imaginable climbing route, and reviews of every major guide service. Don’t be shy.

Want more information on gear or particulars on training for a climb? Leave a comment or go to my profile and click on the email link.

Climbing Mt. Rainier

2009-04-24T13:38:00.000-07:00

The climbing season has begun! Shortly after our two week stint in the Alaska Range in May, a client and I are heading to Mt. Rainier to climb via the Emmons Glacier route in July. The trip came together suddenly and smoothly, and the experience gained on this glaciated, volcanic peak will definitely lend itself to boosting confidence for the Denali trip next summer.

We'll be joining Alpine Ascents for this adventure, and look forward to using the skills developed on the mountaineering course with Alaska Mountaineering School.

Okay, enough of trying to remain calm and stoic- I am absolutely thrilled at the opportunity to climb Rainier. It is a beautiful, classic mountain that has haunted me ever since I first laid eyes on it. Climbing with Alpine Ascents will offer solid skill-building and continuation of the mountaineering apprenticeship I've begun.

Limbering Up

2009-04-06T12:22:00.000-07:00

Due to injuries incurred as a result of horseback riding accident in 2003, including a fractured pelvis and disrupted sacro-iliac joint (okay, crushed joint), it is possible that I am the least flexible person in the State of Alaska.

It occurs to me from time to time, as I work through a set of squats or increase the weight on the deadlift that if I want to improve my performance and climbing capability, I had better pay strict attention to improving the range of motion in my hip joint.

In the spirit of cooperation, my daughter Des offered to join me for an Ashtanga Vinyasa Yoga class last week. In all fairness to her, she is the one with experience doing yoga. As we stretched out our mats for the class, she gracefully moved into tree pose and looked perfectly at home. I silently wondered if my efforts were going to embarrass her to death. Luckily, the instructor was superb- and I flowed almost effortlessly through sun salutations and found that down-dog is indeed a relaxing place to just breathe.

As I prepare to head to San Francisco in three weeks, I am looking forward to doing some indoor climbing at Touchstone: Mission Cliffs and strengthening my practice by attending Hatha and Ashtanga classes. Counting down the days: 38 days until we hit the mountains...

The Gear Loft

2009-04-03T18:10:00.000-07:00

Climbing harnesses, helmet, ice axe, carabiners, base layers, boots, climbing shoes, sleeping bag, sleeping pads, Nalgene bottles, expedition pack, socks... I've got gear piled in heaps, awaiting the final sorting and stacking. We're six weeks out from flying into the glacier, and I am starting to get excited. All of the preparation, all of the training, all of the logistics add up to hundreds of man-hours; the trip itself should be simple compared to the planning.

Between now and then, I have a ten day business trip to San Francisco and Seattle- as well as mountains of paperwork to finalize. We're turning the corner on spring, though. The days are longer and warmer, and as I count them down: 41 days remaining until we leave for Talkeetna.

Having just returned from a hiking/backpacking/trekking adventure on the island of Kauai, I am feeling rejuvenated and ready for the next challenge.

It will be epic, and it is the opportunity of a lifetime. Follow along, as TITANIUM heads to the mountains... the journey has begun.

Denali: The Mountain

2009-02-02T12:05:00.000-08:00

Humble Beginnings

2008-12-11T11:58:00.000-08:00

Growing up in Alaska, I had the opportunity to appreciate the great outdoors in an up-close and personal kind of way, regularly. As a child, I experienced a life best described as “off the beaten path”, acquiring skills and learning things that can’t be found in a book.

Often, while admiring the brilliant play of colors in a winter sunset over Mt. Hayes and Mt. Deborah, I imagined what it would be like to climb. It was imagination grounded in the ice crystals formed by exhaling at -40, the dreams of a child who grew up in the shadow of the mountains.

As a young adult, I ventured far into the mountains for weeks to hunt Dall sheep and returned leaner in body, but full in spirit. I learned to set down the rifle and pick up the camera, capturing forever the moments that the next generation may never witness. There are few sights more profound than observing nature at its most sensitive- baby “ram-lets” cavorting down steep slopes, their mothers placidly grazing. Then there were the sightings: majestic, mature rams resting in groups of 10 or 12- overlooking valleys hewn by a thousand storms. Watching them ascend, effortlessly, the terrain that it took me hours to solve- I knew that some part of me would remain in the mountains, awaiting a reunion.

Time and circumstances brought a weight of obligation, a career and education and served to cement the need for altitude. At every opportunity, I would cinch down my pack straps, make the requisite stops for Mountain House, fuel canisters and moleskin- then head out into any available territory. Little by little, my partner and I ventured farther and higher into the mountains, scrambling past glaciers and discovering a world apart.

A childhood dream was growing wings… but there was a critical item missing: technical experience. Nagging at the back of my mind every time I climbed alone was the knowledge that I was pushing the envelope and practically mailing an invitation for disaster. It was a known- unknown: mountaineering school was needed.

A TITANIUM business client had expressed a goal of climbing Denali, and I structured a multi-faceted training program to build the necessary strength, endurance and conditioning to meet the client’s goals. I found myself approaching the training with renewed excitement- not just for my client, but also for myself. As a personal trainer, it is always prudent to maintain a client’s interests and goals as a separate entity. I wrestled with finding the right balance and was satisfied that I could provide the training and logistics needed- and support the client’s success from a distance. As I researched the project, it seemed that the next logical step needed for the client to attain the long-term goal of ascending the highest summit in North America would be instruction from expert mountaineering guides on every aspect of climbing.

I turned to Alaska Mountaineering School immediately; for experience, location, proximity, safety and quality instruction- AMS was unparalleled. As I prepared and relayed the information for my client, the response was instantaneous: my client asked me to join her at the 12-Day Mountaineering Class. Having spent years researching and studying aspects of climbing, a practical course in mountaineering was the solution to my conundrum.

My client and I submitted our applications to the School, and were accepted; that’s when the hard work began. And that’s where we are at right now… putting one foot in front of the other, engaged in this process and looking forward to all that we will learn along the way.