tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37147107393206162012024-02-20T02:53:21.548-08:00Living the LifeLiving the Life - Def'n: one who is realizing one's dreams, and who is content and happy with the reality of their life, because it is filled with joy, love and the prospect of more great things.HSBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14777671812338203740noreply@blogger.comBlogger19125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3714710739320616201.post-28770444619242975382023-11-02T18:35:00.001-07:002023-11-02T18:44:01.094-07:00It’s time to adventure again…!Nearly five years. That’s how long it’s been since I last traveled by plane, for fun. Bonus: I’m leaving North America. My adventure travel muscles - Advenductors? Adventozoids? Adventurous Maximus? - are sore and stiff, but muscle memory prevails nonetheless. Packing for efficiency and carry-on-only is a long-acquired skill of mine, and it comes back, despite the extra luxury item or two I added to the pile. But everything for my 11-day trip fits in my 33L backpack.<div><br></div><div>My friend Dan contacted me last spring and asked if I wanted to go to Cambodia, with him and our common travel friends, plus his son and grandson. I didn’t ask for an itinerary or even the price. I just said yes. Dan and I have known each other for over 20 years. I met him while working for a small company that was delivering software to his big company. He had a picture of Mount Everest in his office, he told me he had taken it himself. We started talking about adventures and mountains and discovery and exploring. Twenty years later, we’ve traveled to Nepal, Chile (mainland AND Easter Island!), met up in Seattle a few times, and now we’re all connecting in Cambodia (I sadly missed out on a trip to Bhutan because of work one year - never, ever say no to an adventure “because of work” - it’s never worth it). </div><div><br></div><div>Dan has always been an inspiration. He embodies joie de vivre, curiosity, a desire to learn about the world, history, and most importantly, people. Dan makes friends, for life, wherever he goes. He can tell great stories from anywhere around the world. He writes fun songs, leads the way with ease, and smiles. Traveling with Dan never goes wrong. His favorite question? “What chu got there?”, always a fantastic conversation starter. Add to the mix Maggie, our energetic friend who is a world traveler by profession, and who’s always in a good mood, I’m thinking this trip is going to be a hoot! Can’t wait to get reacquainted with Chris and Jack as well. We’re missing Janel and Michael, who couldn’t join us after all, and sending them good thoughts and much strength to face some challenging times back home…</div><div><br></div><div>I’m writing this first entry sitting on a park swing (impeccably designed I might add), in the Incheon suburb of Seoul, Korea. I wasn’t supposed to wake up here this morning, but thanks to a volcanic eruption somewhere in Russia, my flight from Toronto yesterday took an unprecedented (well, for me at least) 17:30 hours to get to Seoul. I’m grateful for the airline points that allowed me to upgrade to Business Class. Even then, 17:30 hours is a long flight. Very long… I missed my reunion with Dan and Maggie, and my connection to Phnom Penh. Sadness. But, silver lining - instead of getting right back on a plane for another 6 hours, I got to take a shower and sleep in a proper bed. Hurray for exceptional Korean organizational skills, a warm and efficient greeting by the ground agents at the airport and at the hotel that welcomed us stranded passengers. </div><div><br></div><div>So this morning, I’m doing what I always do when I travel. I stepped out for a walk. It’s not an area that tourists would ever plan to visit. But it’s a lovely, yet very ordinary residential neighborhood, with big parks, in close proximity to a highway and a commercial area servicing the vicinity of massive Incheon airport (which, by the way, is laid out exactly like Pearson airport in Toronto. Exactly.)</div><div><br></div><div>The air is warm, the breeze stiff, and the clouds heavy. But fresh air, after a total of 19 hours on a plane (YUL -YYZ - ICN), and a night in a rather warm hotel room, feels heavenly. The walk through parks, watching doggies play, joggers jog, and older folks chatting in the morning, reminds me of my old neighborhood in Japan, near Osaka, 30 years ago. Only three differences really convince me I’m not in Japan: the Hangol writing on buildings, Korean being spoken, and cars driving on the right. That’s it. Change those three things to Hiragana/Katakana/Kanji writing, Japanese spoken, and cars driving à la British, and voilà, it would be Japan. Right down to the series of apartment buildings that look exactly like the Danchi I used to live in. I’m sorry, Korean and Japanese friends, if my comparison offends either of you, I understand your sentiments, really I do. But I mean it with affection. Being here has flooded me with happy memories. </div><div><br></div><div>And onward… more flight time this evening, onto Phnom Penh and the happy reunion I’ve been awaiting! </div><div><br></div><div>Everyone back home (Mom, Sunny, family and friends) is doing well, so my heart is light and I am relaxed. A happy camper indeed.</div>HSBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14777671812338203740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3714710739320616201.post-13163175975045232582019-02-28T08:54:00.001-08:002019-03-01T19:19:35.489-08:00Aconcagua: The Long-Awaited Story of Summit Day
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<b><span style="font-size: small;">Aconcagua Summit Day - Feb 9, 2019</span></b></div>
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The wind was howling. The tent was shaking violently, threatening to come unmoored. Barely able to sleep all night, I was wide awake at 4am. I suspected my tent mate Patti wasn’t sleeping either: she had been fidgeting earlier, and turning over in her bulky sleeping bag more than once. The noise outside suddenly changed, and I thought I heard a panel of the tent fly flapping in the wind. Bad news. I said to Patti, “I think the fly is coming undone… we’re going to have to go outside and fix it.” She looked at me, and screamed, “WHAT?!? I CAN’T HEAR A THING YOU SAID!” I realized the noise of the wind drowned out any possibility of normal conversation. Just as I was trying to muster the willpower to get out of my warm and cozy sleeping bag into the bitter cold, I saw the glow of a headlamp outside, and heard more rustling noise on my side of the tent. “Is someone out there?”, I shouted as loud as I could. I heard Peter’s voice, barely audible over the wind, saying he was out there fixing tents. Damn… Guilt and relief, all at once: I didn’t have to go out and fix the tent, but poor Peter, our lead guide, who was sick as a dog, was out there securing everyone’s tents to ensure they wouldn’t fly away.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
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An hour or so later, my alarm went off. Already awake, I wasn’t sure if we would be starting our journey to the summit of Aconcagua, or if the winds were too strong to allow us to proceed safely. But again, Peter’s voice outside our tent told us he “was coming in!”, as the vestibule was unzipped and gusts of wind suddenly blew antarctic-cold air in. Peter plopped down on the ground, delivered a thermos of hot water to Patti and me, and confirmed that we were to get ready as soon as possible: eat breakfast, layer up, make sure to carry water, food, helmet, crampons, more layers. Keep moving, don’t stop, just get ready…</div>
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Our team of ten clients guided expertly by Peter, Dawa and Martín (aka “Picante”) had proven over the previous week that it was not the most efficient at getting ready, and it took over an hour and a half for everyone to come out of their tents, shoulder their packs, and be all set to start climbing. Our guides were getting impatient, some of us were waiting and growing cold, and the sky was already threatening to turn pink with the dawn of a new day. The wind was still howling, but outside of the tents, it seemed a little less daunting. Still, the occasional gust would nearly knock me over, and I saw my teammates also fighting to keep their balance. How… exciting?! Yes, definitely exciting!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Windy Camp Cólera</td></tr>
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We finally got going around 6:30am, slowly walking uphill from Camp Cólera, up towards the old Independencia refuge on our way to the summit of Aconcagua, the tallest summit in all the Americas, the tallest mountain outside of Asia. Standing proud at 6,962 meters, Aconcagua is somewhere between an alpine climb and an extremely challenging walk-up. Significantly higher than Kilimanjaro, it is much more demanding physically and mentally, and is subject to violent winds and weather mood-swings. Yet, compared to glaciated alpine climbs like Denali, or even Rainier (which is only two-thirds of Aconcagua’s height), Aconcagua is not “technical” and does not require the same level of mountaineering skills as those climbs. No need to rope up or cross crevasses, although crampons, ice axes and helmets are required on several sections.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
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Our summit day, originally planned for February 11th, had been moved up to February 9th to take advantage of a weather window which was rapidly closing. The winds were strong on February 9th, but nothing compared to what was expected for the coming days. Our summit attempt would be on the 9th, or not at all. Our planned climbing schedule, which included rest days at Base Camp, Camp 1, and Camp 2, was suddenly shortened. We moved directly to Camp 3 (Cólera) without a rest day at Camp 2, eliminating the “up and down” day of a double-carry between Camp 2 and Camp 3, along with the actual rest day. The implications were two-fold: by accelerating the schedule, we could now be in position to climb to the summit on a day with good weather (February 9th); it also meant that we had two fewer days of acclimatization, and less rest. But those are the variables involved in mountaineering. Some clients (who did summit but had challenges) would later comment that “If only we could have rested more, or acclimatized longer…”, but those wishful thoughts ignored the fact that no one at all was able to summit for several days after February 9th, due to hurricane-force winds and significantly colder temperatures at Camp Cólera (6000m) and above.</div>
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So there we were, our team of ten clients plus three guides, occasionally seeing a few other people above and below us, heading up the mountain by headlamp. We crossed paths, like we had several times before, with Craig, another guide who was with a private client. I knew Craig from my climb of Mount Rainier in 2016, and was really glad to see him again on Aconcagua. I confess that, of the first long section of the day, I have only very hazy memories. I put one foot in front of the other, staring at the trail. I remember repeating one of the mantras I used, borrowing from champion mountain biker Rebecca Rusch: <i>“I can. I will. I won’t be denied.”</i><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The sun beginning to warm us <br>up on the way to the summit</td></tr>
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I occasionally glanced up, long enough to note the beautiful sunrise, gorgeous views, and less angry wind. The temperature was cold, but not overly so. I was comfortable in my layers, and felt great. I don’t remember how many breaks we took, or where. I do remember stopping at the Independencia refuge, a small wooden structure that has apparently been falling apart for a few seasons. It contained the remnants of someone’s primitive camp, and I do remember Craig making a comment about the state of disrepair of the refuge. However, whether he said that there, at that time, or said that later, even in Mendoza after the climb, I could not say! I don’t know whether it was the effects of altitude or lack of sleep, or merely what I call “trail hypnosis”, but I do not remember any distinct feature or event from that first part of the day.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Independencia</td></tr>
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Around Independencia, or shortly after (?), Peter came to see me, and told me one of the clients needed to go back down to Camp Cólera, and that he, Peter, would be the guide accompanying him. He hugged me good luck, told me I could do it, and I knew in that moment that it was up to me to get to the summit anyway. Peter and I had planned and discussed this climb for a year. He had been instrumental in so many different ways in getting me prepared and ready for it. Thinking back, both of us knew that this one year of preparation built on the previous four years during which we became friends and went on several trips and climbs together. On every one of those adventures, I learned more from Peter, acquired greater skills, and built my own confidence through additional solo trips closer to home. When I left for Aconcagua in late January, I felt as ready and confident as I have ever felt on any big trip. Of course, I had visualized Peter and I taking a picture together on the summit. Yet, when he told me that because he was sick, it made sense for him to accompany the client back to camp and give Dawa a chance to reach Aconcagua’s summit for her first time, I felt calm and confident. He had done everything he could do to help me be ready. The rest was up to me.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
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Peter admonished all of us remaining clients that from here on out, there was to be no arguing with the guides: if Dawa or Picante told a client he or she should turn back because they were not “doing well” (too slow, not feeling well, behaving or climbing in a way that indicated an altitude-related health issue…), that client needed to turn around without argument. Dawa and Picante would know how to coordinate between the two of them and accompany clients down appropriately. There was a reason for that speech by Peter. One client had already shown signs of ignoring the guides, and had previously demonstrated his unwillingness to follow the rules… and he was not expected to have the strength to summit…<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
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A few minutes later, Peter and one of our teammates had started down the mountain back to Camp Cólera, while the rest of us proceeded upwards. And… another section of the trail remains absent from my memory, until I vaguely remember being aware of the mention of “the Cueva”, a perfectly-located cave and relatively flat area at the base of the final steep climb to the summit. The whole team was to take a break there, drink some water and eat, before proceeding onto the long last section leading up to the summit.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
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Before arriving at the Cave, I mentioned to Dawa, who was climbing with me, Patti and another one of our teammates, that I needed to use a Wag Bag (aka “go to the bathroom”). She indicated a big rock behind which I could partially hide while she blocked “the entrance”. This was a repeat of my Mount Rainier scenario in 2016, when I had to use a “blue bag” (different terminology but same purpose) on the flanks of Rainier, in the middle of a blizzard. Except that here on Aconcagua, the sun was shining, and other than a need to use the bag, I was not feeling sick or uncomfortable in any way.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
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As always, I experienced some kind of “performance anxiety” tied to having to hurry and use a bag, while there are other climbers around, and I’m on a timeline. So of course, it took forever… The actual duration of this “event” has been debated (!), and no official conclusion was reached (!!). Suffice it to say, by the time Dawa, Patti, the other teammate and I reached the Cave, where the rest of the team and Picante were already taking a break, they were just about ready to get going again. Sigh. Just like getting dropped on a group bike ride at the base of a big climb: when you get to the top, relieved to have made it, everyone else is ready to start down while you hurry to catch your breath…</div>
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Dawa made sure that Patti, the other client and I took a break, re-hydrated and ate before we started up once more. The terrain changed: steeper, with a large patch of snow leading up to a snow gully in the first part of the Canaleta (the ridge that leads to the summit). Climbing the snow gully was not difficult, but required doing crossover steps in crampons, which kept me alert and wide awake. Nearing the top of the gully in front of me, Patti suddenly lost her balance and toppled backward, sliding several meters towards a small patch of rock against which she came to a stop. Trying to grab her foot in a futile move as she slid past me, I fell on my butt, ensconced in the gully with nowhere further to fall. Dawa gave me a hand up, before going to rescue Patti who was in a slightly precarious position. Fortunately unhurt, but a little shaken, Patti regained her feet, and climbed back up with Dawa, to reclaim her spot at the top of the gully. It was not a major fall, but could have been, and luckily, no one was hurt. But… it revealed a chink in Patti’s armour. Strong and extremely determined, Patti had done very well every day of the expedition, and despite a bit of fatigue, had climbed strongly even while carrying a full pack. At the top of the snow gully, however, she looked and sounded a little less confident after her fall. Still determined, she discussed with Dawa how she was feeling, and for the time being, decided to keep going up.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
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By then, the rest of our team had built a good advance on us and we could see them progressing smoothly above us in the Canaleta. Several climbers from other expeditions, including one group from the Mendoza Police Force, and other independent unguided climbers were interspersed between us and Picante’s group. I passed Dawa and Patti, followed by my other teammate, and the two of us soon pulled ahead by several minutes. I heard Patti tell Dawa that she wanted to try for the summit, and knew Dawa needed to decide whether she would turn Patti around, forcing the other teammate and myself to go back down with them, or continue up with all three of us. It was a tough call, no matter what, and I didn’t envy Dawa’s position… Shouting up to Picante, she signaled that we were still continuing up. I heard Picante yell something that sounded to me like, “No… turn around!”. I stopped. I thought, “Oh well, the guides have spoken. This is where my climb ends. It’s been grand, I could have kept going, BUT these are the rules, and I’m not about to go rogue.” I took a selfie, checked the altitude (6,799m), and paused to look around and take some deep breaths. Then… I heard them. I looked up towards Picante and the rest of our team, and heard him distinctly this time, shouting “Keep coming up!”, and saw Picante and our other guys waving me up. I confirmed with hand signals and a few shouts, and they said, “yes, come UP”. I didn’t question it further, and kept climbing, my other teammate not far behind. Dawa was still working with Patti a little further back.</div>
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The Canaleta was sunny, dusty, rocky, cold, dry, not too windy… What I remember most from it was making sure I found good foot placements, to allow my big boots and crampons to rest securely where I stepped. I needed to avoid hesitant, irregular steps. I wanted to keep moving and never stop, knowing that climbing steadily, even if slowly, was key. But every few steps, I found myself stopping, trying to regain a normal breathing rhythm, trying to slow my heart rate. What I don’t remember, is how long those pauses were. They might have been ten seconds, or five minutes. I don’t know and don’t remember. At one point, the climber behind me, who introduced himself as Bubba from Kyrgyzstan and told me he “loves Montreal!”, was the one encouraging me to get going again when my pauses were presumably too long. While I wasn’t hallucinating (I have clear and vivid memories of the sunlight on the rocks and trail in front of me), I did have very weird daydreams in that whole section! Those will remain my own undisclosed memories, if you don’t mind…<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
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Sensing that two climbers were coming down towards me, I looked up to recognize Craig and his client. I congratulated them on their successful summit, and asked Craig if I still had time to reach the summit at my pace, or whether it would be wiser to turn around. It was 4pm. We had not discussed a turn-around time, but I knew we still had 4.30 hours of daylight (to summit and go back down to camp), I felt great, and there were many others around me still heading up. Craig told me I had about another hour of climbing to reach the summit, that I would run into Picante soon, and that all was well. I asked him to check on Dawa and Patti, who had now fallen farther behind. My other teammate was still relatively close to me and climbing at my pace.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVYe9K_-BwY0PDzWVIexU1zttwUXTBnbxcRFzdKxOcq3peihzg0px5C-ZQtwVN6c11goNTqs2ss_JEpJU3EdSz2L93ya8sts97enG1sZ2tE8eoWm4aiY1KFwroUEygKmAaSB9k_a_7li9p/s1600/HSBonSummit.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVYe9K_-BwY0PDzWVIexU1zttwUXTBnbxcRFzdKxOcq3peihzg0px5C-ZQtwVN6c11goNTqs2ss_JEpJU3EdSz2L93ya8sts97enG1sZ2tE8eoWm4aiY1KFwroUEygKmAaSB9k_a_7li9p/s400/HSBonSummit.JPG" width="400" id="id_828_496e_11a5_dd76" style="width: 400px; height: auto;"></a>Reassured that I had time, I kept going up. Nearing the last few meters before the actual summit, the rest of the team, already up there, all shouted their welcome to me. One of them offered a hand, but I waved him off kindly, telling him I needed to finish this on my own. I fought a sob that nearly took my breath away before I stepped on the summit. Once the last step up was taken, I folded in half briefly, fighting off tears that threatened to overwhelm me. Instead, I hugged each of the guys, welcomed Dawa and my teammate who were suddenly right behind me, and got a big hug from Picante, who told me Peter was also sending me “un abrazo”.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
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There was a feeling of urgency, as it was already 5pm, and no one wanted to linger on the summit much longer. Waves of clouds were moving in. Many of our teammates had already been there nearly 30 to 45 minutes waiting for me, Dawa and our teammate. Patti had chosen to go down with Craig and his client, when they came past her earlier. I was sad she was not standing with us on the summit, but thought of her and her husband, and felt like they were right there with me.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNjTkwucxAV684KfeWcaA1181p_u6xLPGrDgamiQYOdMT3_K0jB_UWCOsAdwuNEQXZrwhZB5sfjUZYb3f0uIvoJJpvMfRB8Tf3z3HhCgK6cywfwlvNagMh3lI4H2GAWVBepzFfjxoaeeh9/s1600/DawaHSB.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1202" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNjTkwucxAV684KfeWcaA1181p_u6xLPGrDgamiQYOdMT3_K0jB_UWCOsAdwuNEQXZrwhZB5sfjUZYb3f0uIvoJJpvMfRB8Tf3z3HhCgK6cywfwlvNagMh3lI4H2GAWVBepzFfjxoaeeh9/s320/DawaHSB.JPG" width="240" id="id_8541_97c5_8e6f_48a5" style="width: 240px; height: auto;"></a>We took pictures, including a few of me holding my sign that says I climbed for the “Société Alzheimer de Laval”. It was deeply satisfying, and profoundly meaningful, to reach the summit knowing I had done it for such a personal and important cause. There are 62 people (at last count) who have donated money to my fundraising campaign. I knew every name, and thought of every person, during the climb. And now, standing on the summit, well… it was all about Mom and Dad, and me. All the training last year, all the hard work, all the sacrifices, all the changes in our lives, everything brought on by this blasted disease… I faced it all, and I reached my goal. We spent mere minutes on the summit, but the knowledge that I stood on it, that I succeeded in reaching it, will be with me forever.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1QPVWVge8L0YnJrwzkginhm18ygETnkPUgnAE6-fmHWxOUR_MT6wXZpTPfoZLFa9q-RMn2TkVZoGqdjdJUl803gutNh93M1FpkfRw98P0dJFh0hDQGUaFZbDdxCucm88BQ4nYIlyr1xEg/s1600/WeDidIt.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1QPVWVge8L0YnJrwzkginhm18ygETnkPUgnAE6-fmHWxOUR_MT6wXZpTPfoZLFa9q-RMn2TkVZoGqdjdJUl803gutNh93M1FpkfRw98P0dJFh0hDQGUaFZbDdxCucm88BQ4nYIlyr1xEg/s320/WeDidIt.JPG" width="320" id="id_58aa_451b_9cf0_58df" style="width: 320px; height: auto;"></a></div>
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Pictures taken, crampons removed and packed away, we gulped a bit of water, swallowed a bite or two, and started down. Time was of the essence. Dawa carried my pack down (she had carried it up, combining some of Patti’s and my things to lighten the load, and leaving her own big pack at the Cave). I moved fairly fast (by my standards anyway), with one teammate not too far behind. I could see three of our other guys moving faster ahead of me, increasing the distance, but never out of sight. Looking back, I was shocked to see two teammates (who had been strong and fast to date) and Dawa still far up the ridge, not very far below the summit, and not moving fast. I hoped one of the guys, who had a painful knee, was not having too much trouble. Looking ahead once more, I approached a (literal) fork in the road: the trail split, with one branch going to the left (towards the Cave, I thought), and the other to the right (still down, but not to the Cave?). A man was sitting on a rock where the trail split, and I had seen him chatting with other climbers from the Mendoza Police Force team just minutes before. My tired brain could barely muster broken Spanish by then, but I asked him which trail led to the Cave. With a very worried look in his eyes, the man said, “Helen, is that you?” I suddenly recognized Picante! Reassuring him that I was totally fine and had just not recognized him from a distance, I followed his guidance towards the Cave. But just then, we heard Dawa call out to Picante from above, asking him for help.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
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Picante headed back up the mountain quickly, while I proceeded down to catch up to my teammates who had already reached the Cave. Arriving there without my pack (Dawa was carrying it), I found the one bottle I had left behind, and shared it with the guys. I had left a few items there but had no pack in which to carry them, so one of the guys offered to take them in his own pack. We initially agreed that the five of us clients would continue down to Camp Cólera, and got started. One of them (who had my stuff in his pack, I later remembered), however, chose to stay back, staring up the mountain to where Dawa, Picante, and our other two teammates seemed to be glued to the rock, barely moving… We were all concerned, but it was clear to me that if I stood around and waited, I would only become another liability. I was tired, and increasingly dehydrated. Without my pack and the other items I had just stashed in my teammate’s pack, I had no food, and no water left (see how quickly little decisions become potentially bigger ones, at altitude, and with fatigue?). One of the guys, who had been sick for several days, needed to go down fast. Another one still seemed fit, but showed signs of dehydration too, and was somewhat less experienced than I was. Perhaps all the books I’ve read about mountaineering came into my mind at once, but I just KNEW I should go down, and that waiting would not do anyone any good. Three of us continued down, followed by a fourth teammate, while one chose to stay and wait for Dawa, Picante and the two clients who seemed to be struggling. The teammate who stayed to help was by far the strongest of the clients, and his Marines’ training of “Leave no man behind” no doubt led him to make this decision, which turned out to be the right one for all concerned. So in the end, everyone was where they should have been…</div>
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I continued down with the other two guys (with another one following at a distance behind us - I only realized that later, otherwise, I would have waited to make sure he could catch up to us). The path down was easy to follow, and there was no risk of getting lost on the trail. Nonetheless, the vastness of the mountain, the gradually fading daylight, and the occasionally changing terrain (from dust and rock, to rutty snow and penitentes) kept us alert and moving only as fast as we dared. The guys would probably have moved faster without me, but we all stayed within 30 meters or so from one another, never out of sight or voice range. We took a few short breaks, and I encouraged them to keep moving. We all felt tired and dehydrated, and the only way to find relief was to get to camp. Stopping and resting on the mountain wasn’t going to make us feel better.</div>
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I was still feeling good, but had moments when I actually felt lightheaded, and eventually, dizzy. It felt weird. I’d never experienced that before. I knew it wasn’t “the altitude”, since we were descending rapidly. But I was thirsty, and getting quite hungry. I did not feel like there was any “danger”, I knew we were getting quite close to camp, and that there were people expecting us there. I knew there would be water and plenty of food. So the occasional dizzy spells were more of an “interesting observation” for me (“Hey, look at that… I’m dizzy! Actually lightheaded after this long day! Wow, I guess I worked hard for my summit!”).<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
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We eventually saw a camp in the distance, and one of the guys said, “There’s Camp Cólera! It’s the right camp for sure, I see our people.” I’m still not certain who he meant by “our people”, since we were too far away to see anyone and most of “our people” were still behind us. Then, as we got closer, my teammate sat down on a rock and suddenly announced that “it was the wrong camp!”. He thought we’d somehow shot past Camp Cólera and had gone all the way down to Camp 2. I told my two teammates, “If it IS the wrong camp, I’m going to cry!” but that it seemed odd we could have missed Cólera. Regardless, I insisted, we would still continue to the camp in front of us, and they would give us water and shelter. Ten seconds later, I spotted in the distance a permanent structure that I recognized from Camp Cólera and knew we were at the right place. We continued down, and were soon met by the teammate who had returned with Peter earlier in the day. I told him we needed water, and he directed me to the guides’ tent, where Peter had been melting snow for hours. It was exactly 8pm.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;" id="id_392d_e928_45d9_e4fc"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiud05yZ1Wfc__6SuPfMEdFJffyU5bhDtc0EzPrHX8sRBxyRidJsh_iW7cvjdSysNe3GqoF_TAUOoQ6fTDlZHhFjYJwmapqCo2VuXtB91klKj86QGK7HcwwSzP42mS5VMga4ygyYUDVlGp0/s1600/Colera_structure.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiud05yZ1Wfc__6SuPfMEdFJffyU5bhDtc0EzPrHX8sRBxyRidJsh_iW7cvjdSysNe3GqoF_TAUOoQ6fTDlZHhFjYJwmapqCo2VuXtB91klKj86QGK7HcwwSzP42mS5VMga4ygyYUDVlGp0/s400/Colera_structure.jpg" width="400" id="id_77f4_80a4_ea11_2d79" style="width: 400px; height: auto;"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The permanent structure (white, in middle to the left) that became a useful landmark to aim for.</td></tr>
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My two teammates dove into their respective tents, tired, seeking the warmth and comfort of their sleeping bags. I stopped by Peter, whose first question was whether I had summitted. I said, “yes, but I need water now or else I’m going to pass out”. I wasn’t being dramatic, I really felt like I was a few minutes at most from having to lie down to avoid keeling over. I didn’t feel sick, “just dehydrated”. Peter gave me a cup of warm water which I downed in a couple of gulps, and I immediately felt better. One more cup, and I was able to have a conversation. I told him it looked like a couple of clients had issues higher up, possibly a bum knee slowing them down, and that Dawa and Picante were up there. I updated him on the fact that two other teammates had made it back with me, and that one more was on his way (although I confess I’d lost touch with him…). I seem to remember that Peter told me he was aware that clients were up with Dawa and Picante, and had “hit their limits”. However, that’s hazy in my memory, and in hindsight, I’m not actually sure whether I made that up in my mind or not. Ah… fun times with altitude and fatigue!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
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After that short chat, I made my way to Patti’s and my tent, and was reunited with my friend. We briefly shared our respective adventures after we got separated on the mountain earlier. I sat there, still wearing my warm layers, only changing my socks for dry warm ones. I partially crawled into my sleeping bag, and at some point, Peter brought me hot noodle soup in a cooking pot. It was delicious and totally hit the spot! I felt great, replenished and rehydrated, but tired and ready for bed. I knew I was missing a few things that were still with Dawa and my other teammate who were still not back at camp, so my nighttime routine was a bit off. I ended up staying fully-clothed, with puffy pants and big puffy coat, in my sleeping bag, turning off my headlamp just as the sun was going down. I fell asleep around 9pm.</div>
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Waking up around dawn the next morning, I was mindful I’d left the half-empty pot of soup near my feet, and was careful not to accidentally kick it while turning over. The next thing I knew, it was an hour later, and the pot of soup was gone! Peter had come to collect it to boil water, and I hadn’t even woken up.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
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Getting up felt like a chore. I was wearing too many layers inside my sleeping bag, which counterintuitively was making me colder. I had to start by removing unnecessary layers, and getting dressed properly for our descent from Camp Cólera to Plaza de Mulas that day. The wind was still blowing strong, and getting ready outside the tent, packing bags and preparing to take the tent down was challenging. I wanted to move fast, but couldn’t. We were still at 6000m, and even though we had lost nearly 1000m of altitude since the summit, moving fast was not really an option. Any sudden movement, or “hard effort” (like lifting heavy rocks that were securing our tent, or moving heavy packs around) made me lightheaded. So I moved more slowly than I would have liked, but kept moving.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
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During breakfast and our preparations to leave camp, I learned that Dawa, Picante and the three remaining teammates had arrived in camp by headlamp at nearly 10pm the previous night. One teammate (who recovered quickly and is now 100% fine) had been affected shortly after leaving the summit by HACE (High Altitude Cerebral Edema), a potentially lethal condition if the affected person remains at altitude and without treatment. In this case, my teammate was helped down expertly by Picante and Dawa, and given a shot of dexamethasone, medicine specifically for that purpose. After his arrival in camp, he was given oxygen and monitored all night by Peter. By morning, he had made a strong recovery already, and was in good enough shape to continue down towards Plaza de Mulas, where his recovery continued. The incident brought home to everyone the fact that Aconcagua was a very serious mountain, with an altitude that could easily prove deadly. I am on purpose skipping a few details of what happened to my teammates high up on the mountain, but suffice it to say that thanks to the expertise of all three of our guides, who took action on the mountain and in camp, our teammate was fortunate to escape the mountain with no dire consequences…<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
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Summit day on Aconcagua proved to be challenging, beautiful, eventful, long, memorable… It was a deeply meaningful experience for me - from the very first steps I took that morning, to the very last ones that brought me back to camp that night. It was spiritual in some ways, weird in others, and definitely profound in a way I cannot easily explain. I don’t know whether I will ever reach a higher altitude than the summit of Aconcagua. I don’t have any ambitions to climb taller mountains just for the sake of reaching a higher altitude. But I hope to go back to Aconcagua one day - I definitely would enjoy that. It’s become a special mountain to me, a symbol of my own empowerment, determination and capabilities, and it will always have great significance for me and hold a key place in my heart.</div>
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NOTE: this is not my last post about the trip. I will be re-visiting some earlier days of the expedition, sharing about the last two days as we left the mountain, and bringing you a few more anecdotes that occurred during the climb. Stay tuned, and thanks for reading! :)</div>
<br>HSBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14777671812338203740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3714710739320616201.post-87563315980189946572019-02-13T03:00:00.001-08:002019-02-13T03:00:43.927-08:00Aconcagua Post #2<font face="Arial">The sun has been shining bright for two days, the sky is the color of deep azure, with only the occasional puff of clouds floating by. We’re now in Camp 1, at 16,300 ft (or 4,968m approximately), after completing our move from Base Camp yesterday (Monday, Feb 4).</font><div><font face="Arial"><br></font></div><div><font face="Arial">The luxuries of Base Camp - showers, dining tent, cook staff, privies... - are behind us now. We are mountaineers, and our camp life for the next week to ten days will be more primitive. This is not camping by a lake with a bonfire over a long weekend... This is camping on rocky terrain, at altitude, with the guides having to spend hours boiling water and making food for us. Toilets are now “wag bags” that we get to use in a privacy tent. I must say, at least, that it is a room with a view, that privacy tent!</font></div><div><font face="Arial"><br></font></div><div><font face="Arial">Dinner last night was delicious. Patti and I are benefiting from our GF diet, which means more work for Peter, Dawa and Picante. I’m very grateful that Peter took such care to plan a healthy menu. I haven’t had any GI issues to date, and I still have a strong appetite at this altitude. I’m eating as much up here as I do down at sea level. </font></div><div><font face="Arial"><br></font></div><div><font face="Arial">The landscape is superb. Mountains all around, in some areas covered with snow, but mostly scree and rock and sand - a little lunar or Martian, and definitely spectacular. Aconcagua is also famous for its “Penitentes”, naturally-carved snow peaks that can stand as tall as several feet, side by side like “pilgrims” lined up to pray. The color of the earth tends to be reddish to brown, and the dust flies no matter where we step. The climate is dry, and with the sun beaming down harshly, even if the ambient temperatures up here at Camp 1 hover around a maximum of 8-9C, I sometimes seek the cover of the tent to avoid burning. </font></div><div><font face="Arial"><br></font></div><div><font face="Arial">Team Ramrod has become a team, with expected quirks and dysfunctions, but mainly with good collaboration, strengthening friendships, evolving team spirit, and awesome leadership, both by our guides and from some of our team members. At this point, there is no telling whether everyone will be along for the whole trip. The variables - altitude, health, strength, training, weather - are too numerous to know if all of us will summit and finish the expedition. But it would be sad to lose any member of the team. I know I’ve already made lifelong friends in this group, and I wish them all very well. I hate to see any one of us suffering - whether it’s because of blisters or altitude headache or a cold. So keep your fingers crossed that all of us find the success we are looking for on this mountain, whatever our individual motivation may be. </font></div><div><font face="Arial"><br></font></div><div><font face="Arial">That last point is important, as everyone’s motivation is clearly very different. Mine is multi-faceted, with a huge piece being tied to the fundraising campaign I’m conducting for the Société Alzheimer de Laval. But there is more to it than that. This is a way to reclaim myself, my own identity, the person I want to be and that I believe I continue to become. I am with special people here too, and in such an intense environment and context, their presence is immediately impactful and felt. Without going into specific details about any particular individuals, being in their presence generates strong emotions (positive and negative) that require effort on my part to maintain equanimity. More on that farther below.</font></div><div><font face="Arial"><br></font></div><div><font face="Arial">Today (Tuesday, Feb 5) we climbed to Camp 2, to go drop off group and individual gear that we will need higher up. The climb (we are too high and it is too steep to call this a “hike”) took us to a whole new level of beauty. The first part followed the steep valley carved by the fast-flowing mountain stream, and the trail then turned towards the summit of Aconcagua, affording us yet again magnificent views. After about 4:30 hours of climbing, we reached our destination, Camp 2, at just below 18,000 feet. We stashed our stuff, rested for a while, laughing our heads off at silly jokes, and I realized it was my highest altitude in twelve years, since my climb of Chachani in Peru in 2007. I felt well all day, only a little lightheaded in one section on the way up. This was quickly remedied by drinking water with electrolytes and eating some snacks during our rest break. </font></div><div><font face="Arial"><br></font></div><div><font face="Arial">Coming down was easier than the last descent (Camp 1 to Base Camp), and we returned to Camp 1 a few hours ago to wrap up the day. Peter, Dawa and Picante are figuring out menu options and preparing a gourmet dinner. It might be another early night. Tomorrow is a rest day, to allow us to continue our acclimatization process before moving up to Camp 2 the next day. </font></div><div><font face="Arial">——</font></div><div><font face="Arial">Good morning! It’s now Wednesday, February 6, and we are spending the day resting here at Camp 1. The sun is shining HOT and bright, the sky is a deep deep blue, and other than the odd gust of wind, all is calm and quiet. Team Ramrod enjoyed another phenomenal breakfast of French toast, scrambled eggs, tortillas, bacon, and coffee. Patti, Peter and I did a bit of laundry in the very cold creek. I even “washed” my hair - at least I rinsed the dust out of it and it smells peppermint fresh now. Don’t ask how it looks however... ;) </font></div><div><font face="Arial"><br></font></div><div><font face="Arial">There is talk brewing of a bet between one Ramrod member, Sebastian, and lead guide Peter. As this becomes more real, I will reveal more details. It will be one to remember...</font></div><div><font face="Arial"><br></font></div><div><font face="Arial">I mentioned above the notion of “equanimity”. Walking uphill in increasingly thin air at a very slow pace requires mental strength different than what one experiences when exerting oneself in a gym workout or doing other sports. I’m not arguing it’s harder (although it’s certainly not easy), but it requires a different mental approach. It’s not about winning or losing, or beating a competitor. It’s about sheer endurance and maintaining a positive attitude. Sounds easy? Get on an inclined treadmill at the gym, set the pace to ultra slow, shoulder a heavy pack, and walk for 2 hours. Tell me what your mental state is at the end. Walking super-slowly uphill in scree, breathing with every single step in an effort to keep your heart rate under control takes mental strength. I’ve used several tools over the years when hiking and climbing, to fend off boredom, and more importantly, to fight off negative self-talk. My favorite tool is repeating a mantra. There’s something very soothing about the rhythm of a mantra, the mental repetition of a phrase or series of words. A walking meditation like no other...</font></div><div><font face="Arial"><br></font></div><div><font face="Arial">Yesterday, as our uphill pace was slow, I focused on six words that I repeated over and over. I tried this mantra during the trek to Base Camp in previous days, and found it effective. My six words are, “Strength, resilience. Love, compassion. Gratitude, equanimity.” I start with strength on the left foot, resilience on the right, and so on. In-breath on strength, out-breath on resilience. Repeat at infinitum. I focus on the words as I say them in my head. When my mind wants to deviate and go somewhere else - in time, place or context - I acknowledge it, and return to Strength, Resilience, Love, Compassion, Gratitude, Equanimity. Once in a while, I direct those words to specific people in my life. </font></div><div><font face="Arial"><br></font></div><div><font face="Arial">Before you think I’ve gone soft, well, actually, yes... I’ve gone soft, to get much tougher. 2018 was a difficult year on top of two more difficult previous years. In addition to getting through my own “life trials”, I witnessed many loved ones and dear friends go through their own personal hell. I became determined to help them, starting with my parents, to the best of my ability. I came up short many times, failing to provide the assistance I felt I should have. But - I did the absolute best I could, and came out the other side stronger. </font></div><div><font face="Arial"><br></font></div><div><font face="Arial">The physical and mental training for this trip helped me gain a focus that was outside of everything else, enabling me to maintain some external perspective. I know that when I get home, a challenge that awaits me is to find the “next focus” to train for, whether it be job-related, travel-related, sports-related, along with maintaining the same strong focus on family and friends.</font></div><div><font face="Arial"><br></font></div><div><font face="Arial">My mental fortitude so far on this trip has been leaps and bounds better than on any previous challenge. I don’t find it “easy”, it isn’t. I don’t know if my fortitude will last, I can’t predict when it will fail me. But I’m ready to face the challenges, one by one, as they come, step by step. </font></div><div><font face="Arial"><br></font></div><div><font face="Arial">I had a few moments of weakness the other day, not caused by the actual physical hardship of the climb, but because I let my mind wander where I can’t afford to let it go. I’ve had a vision for how this trip and this climb are supposed to unfold, for over a year. This vision was suddenly jeopardized by unexpected circumstances, and I found myself having a strong emotional reaction to that possible setback. It took a day to recover and regain control. I still feel fragile, as the “threat” to my vision is still present (and will remain until the trip is actually over). But I feel a greater ability to deal with that setback if it does become real in the days to come. </font></div><div><font face="Arial"><br></font></div><div><font face="Arial">There are still many other zones where I can’t let my mind venture just yet, as my ability for equanimity is not strong enough yet. </font><span style="font-family: Arial;">But it will come, after this trip...</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial;">And now, as I sit in my well-ventilated tent under the blistering noon-time sun, with my tent mate Patti, I send all my teammates, my parents back home, all my friends and all those following and supporting the Alzheimer cause my best wishes... May you be well. Love you all! </span></div><div><font face="Arial"><br></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><br></font></div>HSBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14777671812338203740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3714710739320616201.post-40758290429143931092019-02-03T11:39:00.001-08:002019-02-03T11:39:10.829-08:00Aconcagua... Post #1<div><font face="Arial">Hi all,</font></div><font face="Arial">I’d meant to write more often and capture the adventure better, but between the acclimatizing process, the physical exertion, not wanting to use up all my battery power, and just plain not having time, this is the first occasion I’ve had to write about the trip.</font><div><font face="Arial"><br></font></div><div><font face="Arial">It’s hard to believe I only left home 10 days ago. It feels like it could be months ago. A lot has happened - a little bad, mostly great - and I am now sitting at Aconcagua Base Camp at 13,800 feet, on a rest day. The sun is shining, the breeze is a bit stiff, and the temperature is cool. But it’s all great for our rest day.</font></div><div><font face="Arial"><br></font></div><div><font face="Arial">Let me recap the trip so far. I flew through Santiago and landed in Mendoza in January 25th, where my good friend Peter picked me up at the airport. I checked into the Park Hyatt Hotel, got to meet Todd Burleson (founder of Alpine Ascents and famous mountaineer), then went to dinner with Peter and his friend Fernando. We walked through Mendoza, a city I found to be charming, with a nice relaxed vibe. Less metropolitan than Buenos Aires, Mendoza is still Argentina’s second largest city </font><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><font face="Arial">with a population of over 2 million.</font></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><font face="Arial"><br></font></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><font face="Arial">Saturday started with a nice breakfast on the terrace with Peter. We got to catch up a bit more, sitting in the quiet tropical weather of Mendoza. He then went to work while I went for a walk, hunting for a Nalgene bottle and a phone charger. I spent the afternoon by the pool, enjoying the heat and sunshine. Peter was able to join me for a while, and we continued chatting and catching up after a year and a half of not having seen each other.</font></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><font face="Arial"><br></font></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><font face="Arial">We connected with two members of Team Ramrod for dinner. That was... interesting... Seeing people’s attitudes when traveling around the world is an eye-opener. Their respect (or lack-thereof) for people from a country different from theirs can sometimes be shocking. Still, it was an enjoyable evening and a learning experience. It made me wonder a bit what the group dynamics would be like, but we would find out the next day, when all of Team Ramrod would come together for the official gear check. </font></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><font face="Arial"><br></font></span></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">On Sunday morning, I went for a nice long walk to Parque San Martín, a beautiful park in Mendoza. It was great to be walking in the early sunshine and warmth, exploring more of this beautiful city. I came back to the hotel for another lovely breakfast on the terrace. I then spent time going through my equipment to get ready for gear check. I had time for a quick plunge in the pool, then several of us met in the lobby in anticipation of our 2:30pm Gear Check. </span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">All 10 clients, plus guides Peter and Dawa, and AAI ops manager Dani met in a large room and started emptying all our duffels and packs, each of us client laying out our gear. Peter then went through the gear list, and each of us showed the item in question. Dawa, Peter and Dani went around the room to verify items and confirm the number of each we should take on the trip. </span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Our group consists of Americans, two Canadians, a Norwegian and a Nicaraguan. Father-and-son Scott and Ryan, my future tentmate and only other female client Patty, pilot Darhl, dry-humour master Jason, wonderful newlyweds Reed and Preben, and laid-back Ben are all my fellow teammates on Team Ramrod. I would come to know them all quickly over the coming days.</span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Gear Check took a few hours, as every item on the long list was inspected. We all then went out for an amazing dinner of Argentine steak, a traditional “asada” at a great restaurant called “La Barra”. Live vines loaded with ripening green grapes made for a beautiful overhead decor. We all began the process of getting to know one another over dinner conversation. Some are more worried about the climb than others, some are better prepared and documented than others. Overall, the mood was jovial and friendly, and some teammates already started emerging as new friends to be made during the trip. </span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Monday morning, I needed to visit the central post office in Mendoza, before our group’s departure for the little town of Los Penitentes. I arranged to be at the post office around 9am when it opens. I then had to take a number and wait 30 minutes to buy two stamps. Worried I’d miss the 9-ish bus departure, I ran all the way back to the hotel. I found our team just beginning to enjoy their breakfast. I had another coffee with them, then we all loaded the bus, and got on our way to Los Penitentes, via Ushpallata where we stopped for a delicious lunch (more asada) at an estancia. The weather was sunny and very warm, and seemed set to remain that way for a while.</span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">We made a stop to drop off our duffel bags at the “mule terminal”. Mules would be carrying our heavy duffels throughout the three-day trek to Base Camp. </span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Arriving at the Hotel Ayelen in Los Penitentes later in the afternoon, we discovered a ghost ski resort. In the summertime, the slopes are bare of snow, and the hotels seem only half-maintained. But our hotel was nice and welcoming, the hot shower functioned very well, and the beds were comfy. I was able to trade steak for salmon for dinner and I admit it was a nice change after all the red meat of previous nights! I got to see Craig Van Hoy who had been my guide on Rainier. Craig is on Aconcagua with a client, following the same climbing schedule as our group. </span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">I got an early night’s sleep. I woke up feeling refreshed and ready to start our day, only to realize it was just 12:30... I spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, wasting previous rest hours.</span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">After a solid breakfast and the last hot shower for a few days, we got on the bus with our gear. We made the short bus trip to the entrance of Aconcagua National Park, where, after taking the obligatory picture, we finally started our hike towards Base Camp. </span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Our first day of hiking proceeded in the hot sun, with no shade and very little in the way of vegetation. The scenery was stark and desert-like. The day brought us to Pampas de Leñas campsite, where we received instructions on how to set up our tents. Wind is a major factor on Aconcagua, and knowing how to secure the tents and prevent them from flying away is critical. </span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Our tent setup was followed by a delicious dinner of steak and corn and grilled vegetables. We made an early evening of it, ready for the next day’s trek. </span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">It’s difficult to describe the stark beauty of the trek towards Base Camp. We followed the Vacas Valley, with its limited greenery and complete absence of trees. We made periodic rest stops, leading to lunch, during which our guides pulled out sandwich making ingredients, bread, coldcuts, avocado, tomato, soda... A nice filling lunch for hungry hikers! </span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Our arrival into our second night campsite at Casa de Piedras gave us our first view of beautiful Aconcagua. Wow. Breathtaking... Impressive... And yes, a bit daunting... </span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Our dinner of asada was once again tasty and entertaining. The “arrieros” (Argentine muleteers and camp staff) were singing and grilling at the same time, adding an extra touch of authenticity to our Argentine adventure.</span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">We got up before dawn for an early breakfast by starlight. We broke down the tents and packed up everything, then walked the first 20 minutes or so to the edge of the river we had to cross. A mule train showed up, and two by two (plus the mule driver), we crossed the river on muleback. </span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">We resumed our walk on the other side, and were treated throughout the day to spectacular views of Aconcagua and Almeghino. Our lunch spot that day was in full view of the mountains... </span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">We arrived at Base Camp Thursday in the late afternoon, pitched our tents, and rested. Aconcagua Base Camp is the first “real Base Camp” I’ve ever stayed at, and it’s definitely cool! We’re late in the season so there aren’t many other expeditions around. But the staff of Aconcagua Mountain Guides (the local outfitter for AAI) is wonderful. The food is delicious. Thanks to Peter, Patty and I are enjoying the kind of food we both eat at home (generally GF for me), and that makes all the difference in the world to stay healthy and feeling good. </span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">The next day (Friday) was a rest day at Base Camp (13,800 feet). Most of us took advantage of the hot showers (for a price!), some got on WiFi, others just napped and rested. But in between all that, two main tasks awaited us. A visit to the BC doctor and a short acclimatization walk in the afternoon. Things went well on both counts. </span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Saturday (yesterday) was our first big day on the mountain. It was a “carry day”, where the team was to carry a load of personal and group gear to Camp 1, at nearly 16,000 feet. Months ago, on the advice of Peter and based on my own previous experience, I chose to pay for porters. That means that I won’t have to carry 50-60lbs of gear on my back. Now, some might judge me for not “truly” climbing the mountain on my own and for “cheating”, but I acknowledge my own limits, and I want to enjoy this trip as much as possible. So I’m very comfortable with my decision to hire a porter. </span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">My teammates for the most part chose to carry their own gear. We headed up towards Camp 1 expecting a climb that could take 6 to 8 hours. It was steep, with mixed rocks and scree most of the way. The last 20 minutes proved the most difficult but we all made it. I felt great, truly.</span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">We took 8:30 hours however. We are not a fast group... Once at Camp 1, we stashed our gear and equipment and headed back down as quickly as possible. It took two hours to reach Base Camp. The whole day, the weather was iffy, with some light snow occasionally, some wind, low clouds, lower temperatures that we had experienced to date.</span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">After our first long hard day, dinner was delicious, and we plunged into our tents last night in need of rest.</span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Today, we have been enjoying the sun and warmth in Base Camp, for our final rest day before we officially move up to Camp 1 tomorrow. It’s been nice to do “nothing” - except charging electronics, doing a bit of laundry, eating, drinking and writing. </span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">I would have posted pictures with this blog but the WiFi connexion at Base Camp is too slow and unreliable so you’ll have to made due with less-than-poetic prose :) </span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">It’s unlikely that I’ll be able to post again for several days. I’ll keep making short Garmin posts, but won’t be able to share much. But... stay tuned...! More to come for sure!</span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Thanks for reading and for following my adventure :)</span></font></div><div><font face="Arial"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></font></div>HSBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14777671812338203740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3714710739320616201.post-41342451777317738682019-01-20T10:13:00.001-08:002019-01-20T10:14:06.906-08:00Aconcagua, here I come...! Aconcagua, j’arrive!<div><i>Le français suit...</i></div><div><br></div>It’s the final countdown! Four days to go before I fly to Mendoza, Argentina, to join my Alpine Ascents International expedition to Aconcagua. I’ve thought of this trip for over a year. I was on the fence often during that year, not knowing whether I should or could go. But I did as much as I could to set things up the right way to enable me to go. And now, I AM going! <div><br></div><div>It’s been a good year but also a difficult one. I’ve been looking forward to regaining a little bit of my “normal”, which includes travel and adventure. At the same time, I found a new me during this past year. A new me who is more resilient, stronger, more compassionate, more determined than ever. </div><div><br></div><div>I can’t wait to be in a foreign land again, to experience the wonderful feeling of being abroad, to join a mountain climbing expedition, to be with other adventurers for a few weeks, and to spend time with a close friend along the way. </div><div><br></div><div>Come along for the adventure, my friends. I’ll keep you all up to date as much as possible, so stay tuned...! </div><div>———</div><div>Le compte à rebours est commencé! Dans quatre jours, je m’envole pour Mendoza, en Argentine, où je me joindrai à l’expédition de Alpine Ascents International pour aller escalader le mont Aconcagua. Il y a plus d’un an que je pense à ce voyage, un an aussi que j’hésite - est-ce que je peux y aller, est-ce que je devrais y aller? J’ai fait tout ce que je devais faire (du moins je crois...) afin de mettre en place ce qu’il fallait, pour que je puisse m’absenter pour près d’un mois. Et maintenant, j’y vais, pour de vrai...</div><div><br></div><div>Ce fut une bonne année, mais une année un peu difficile tout de même. Mon « normal » inclut habituellement des voyages et des aventures à l’étranger, ce qui n’a pas eu lieu depuis un bon bout de temps. Par contre, je me suis « re-découverte » en cette dernière année. Une « nouvelle moi », plus forte, plus résiliente, plus compatissante, plus déterminée que jamais.</div><div><br></div><div>J’ai hâte de me retrouver à l’étranger, d’avoir la sensation si distincte d’être dans un autre pays, de me joindre à une expédition et d’escalader une montagne en compagnie d’un très bon ami et d’un groupe d’amateurs comme moi.</div><div><br></div><div>Venez avec moi, virtuellement! Suivez-moi sur Facebook, je tenterai de vous tenir au courant le plus souvent possible! Merci de m’accompagner...!</div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_3e39_3a09_9ecd_b549" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2AhFlOiZvPCbS7K1quX1R8Ouv9rQema9UoXE5ztJu5qDWifEZS8od5AP954j70chs-j4tBNolfRmL4ooP5w91slBZwhEpEU5hSOfolsOjq6r1p30c3dt88kTvvdiqmUttftOYJsFaJ4Sa/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_fb9f_1a18_b405_6388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNMeEKTRXcty51MyOkHldqJpL1q8ZgMuFlQnx4oh3FthtobpmU2CktVql6e6XwGT75IfX3Onr9CSnFsMZSw9MiTvvYwbMqdDaDIhTbcSpSMTLvLM9YddZNvwC4RSlS_oay4C3Umd0JkJjI/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_f6d8_db6b_4291_109" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggIRWBpdyDTOYJrYNRbTiLEoHqmJCpqw8fdcI9a12l1wqXa9X8R0K4uItp3mUKLBGST5CD-ckK6rzQl-g1po9ijsMm52lCrLUTGk_jQGO8OkENDvZ9D3rfAnReQ8-nllDWm3Nr9hubqCn6/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>HSBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14777671812338203740noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3714710739320616201.post-14901095674643125732017-09-02T12:00:00.000-07:002017-09-07T09:27:49.505-07:00Backpacking in Glacier and Waterton Lakes National Parks - August 2017<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">With 2016 and 2017 proving to be a little more challenging than I would have preferred, the choice of a one-and-only adventure planned for 2017 had to be strategic. Where to go, what to do, when to go... Much went into this very important decision!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">For a number of reasons, I needed to limit risk on this adventure, so no epic bike trip, no mountain climbing, no crevasse-crossing, no exposed summits. Essentially, nothing scary. And considering my lack of fitness at the moment (ahem...), I was looking for something comparatively "easy". Like... a good solid backpacking trip amongst mountains and lakes and forests and wildflowers, and maybe the occasional wildlife sighting. The "Mountains 101" online course I took last winter (produced by the University of Alberta and available on Coursera) introduced me to Glacier National Park, and Waterton Lakes National Park. I got in touch with my favourite guide and friend Peter, and we started planning. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">
After a bit of back and forth via email, trying to figure out a decent itinerary, we settled for a 3- to 4-day thru-hike "from Montana to Canada", starting in Glacier National Park and ending in Waterton, Alberta. The logistics proved a little challenging to organize, surprisingly. But in the end, we were able to plan as much as we needed before departure. The rest would be up to our adventurous spirits, and maybe a little bit of luck.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><b>Saturday, August 19, 2017</b></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Peter picked me up at the airport in Bozeman, Montana, around 9:30pm. It was so great to see him! I was also joyfully reunited with Peter's girlfriend Becca soon after, and even got some puppy love from Sky Dog. Becca and Peter gave me a tour of the garden and the </span><a href="https://bozemanhandyman.com/" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;" target="_blank">Bozeman Handyman</a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">'s workshop, we briefly talked bikes, and then all three of us proceeded to pack gear and food. Becca was off on her own "solar eclipse adventure" the next day, so all three of us were getting ready to travel. We went to sleep at 11:30pm for a two-hour nap, before a very early wake-up call for Peter and me, ready for the 5-hour drive to St. Mary Visitor Center in Glacier National Park.</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><b>Sunday, August 20, 2017</b></i></span><br /><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> We left Bozeman at 2:15am, and Peter drove all night. I'd say the scenery along the drive was beautiful, but there wasn't much to see until sunrise, at which point it really was breathtaking... Once the sun came up, I was able to appreciate just how beautiful and vast Montana is - Big Sky Country indeed. Wow... We got to St. Mary around 8am, tired and eager for some rest, as soon as we could fill the gaps in our plans.</span></span></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1JXQd72pXB2fLF5pySwqpdc6BXbUU-Am4Y3IIYYgwaHbuFSFI0sJWocV22mCx9h8PJovxfyxlqPX5IrdSjQh8DOnCvhUpDM9hkpa7haFhDc4YBbAcQxtlPgRgvDmfOsrNILBrauemea4N/s1600/GNP_WLNP_hikes+in+red.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="598" data-original-width="685" height="346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1JXQd72pXB2fLF5pySwqpdc6BXbUU-Am4Y3IIYYgwaHbuFSFI0sJWocV22mCx9h8PJovxfyxlqPX5IrdSjQh8DOnCvhUpDM9hkpa7haFhDc4YBbAcQxtlPgRgvDmfOsrNILBrauemea4N/s400/GNP_WLNP_hikes+in+red.PNG" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
Our intended itinerary had us starting our hike from The Loop (one of the Going-to-the-Sun Road shuttle stops), spending our first night at the Flattop backcountry campground (BCCG), ideally a second night at Fifty Mountain BCCG, and arriving at Waterton River BCCG, near Goat Haunt (southern end of Upper Waterton Lake), at the end of our third day's walk. However, thanks to the US National Park's somewhat complex reservation system online, we only had our first night at Flattop guaranteed.</span></span></span><br />
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We needed to book two extra nights in Glacier National Park: one campsite for our second night on the trail, and one for this very night after driving all the way from Bozeman. At St. Mary, we got the help of a NP Service employee who helped us figure out the possibilities.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">We couldn't get a night at Fifty, which had no vacancies, but we were able to secure another night at Waterton River BCCG, which meant we would have to walk 17 miles (30km) on our second day. We would get to Waterton River a day early and decide what to do with that extra time.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; font-size: x-small; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtnMux4KzcfudzDG9MD-Bjw3XIIccmrHJ_DJZR3FGln4Ei0oHhqOD4-Ht9RIPQR5r_GZVNzWXPTSiZhqWGslJ3UJBAEAt-0Hqtl_aFXUc8KNsx80ZhyphenhyphenvxPXZfbQUttgwmh8t5ep5VCJKxP/s1600/View+from+Rising+Sun.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtnMux4KzcfudzDG9MD-Bjw3XIIccmrHJ_DJZR3FGln4Ei0oHhqOD4-Ht9RIPQR5r_GZVNzWXPTSiZhqWGslJ3UJBAEAt-0Hqtl_aFXUc8KNsx80ZhyphenhyphenvxPXZfbQUttgwmh8t5ep5VCJKxP/s320/View+from+Rising+Sun.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The view from Rising Sun Campground</i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">We also booked a spot at the Rising Sun Campground (5 miles west of St. Mary on the Going-to-the-Sun Road) for that same Sunday night: one night of luxury car camping! We got there just after 9:30am, very tired. We made camp, and promptly took a 2-hour nap. In the afternoon, we drove to Logan Pass and did the Hidden Lake Trail hike. </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhavgejyRBfnudnnJTQ-mFYh3yZawVAi_FJTq-vOR1DueSidkcT_INZdg1a66foB4I1EMr7JwGvQ461BwjWCrmL61mQlvhyphenhyphenqO05f6f1VbZl_992XqWTglNMZrqtk-pAkJYw_aD7IDmsws9S/s1600/Rising+Sun+CG.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1" data-original-width="1" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhavgejyRBfnudnnJTQ-mFYh3yZawVAi_FJTq-vOR1DueSidkcT_INZdg1a66foB4I1EMr7JwGvQ461BwjWCrmL61mQlvhyphenhyphenqO05f6f1VbZl_992XqWTglNMZrqtk-pAkJYw_aD7IDmsws9S/s1600/Rising+Sun+CG.gif" /></a></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-l3G4nKSbhjvHyUuBvz-cqwEPoS4_sKyscPMcm57HbA_HdDNZnsFBSKwCVAsyRMlSRC2F3GunzhYIzJr4g6cKjXFZ-jl4CdBM-l5q2i0w-Dmk1NcPkYv32bHK9gCfe62dN1ZrPNa-wxVd/s1600/Hidden+Lake+boardwalk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-l3G4nKSbhjvHyUuBvz-cqwEPoS4_sKyscPMcm57HbA_HdDNZnsFBSKwCVAsyRMlSRC2F3GunzhYIzJr4g6cKjXFZ-jl4CdBM-l5q2i0w-Dmk1NcPkYv32bHK9gCfe62dN1ZrPNa-wxVd/s320/Hidden+Lake+boardwalk.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>The Hidden Lake Trail Boardwalk</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">An "accessible hike", with the first mile or so on wooden boardwalks, Hidden Lake is still a gem of a hike, with beautiful rock bands of various colours, a landscape of faraway peaks, blue lakes, tall trees, and with a welcoming committee of ground squirrels, mountain goats and big-horn sheep. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic6CKTX288-Vexl__Rg58McXoBxxku5bBlCSFIx4Vg447nJtOPb8cEVs5rYbgUjhwxOEqX7yuDXeg6mEILo3shZYv7U1w6vVSs5IL6ir1U6gIEznBoS-Inq9g_aoS9cmRZ1IwYuE_zSNQI/s1600/Hidden+Lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic6CKTX288-Vexl__Rg58McXoBxxku5bBlCSFIx4Vg447nJtOPb8cEVs5rYbgUjhwxOEqX7yuDXeg6mEILo3shZYv7U1w6vVSs5IL6ir1U6gIEznBoS-Inq9g_aoS9cmRZ1IwYuE_zSNQI/s400/Hidden+Lake.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>Hidden Lake nestled amongst the mountains</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Overall, it proved to be a nice little 6-mile hike (10km) to wake up our tired legs. Pete tried his luck fishing in Hidden Lake, but his minimalist Tenkara line (a Japanese purist style of fly fishing which I could appreciate for its simplicity) was a little too short to reach the deeper parts of the lake where the fish were hiding. We had plenty of food to eat on that first night, so no worries, other than Pete's disappointment with not catching anything.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><i>Monday, August 21, 2017</i></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">After a leisurely morning and a delicious pancake breakfast, we drove to St. Mary where we planned on leaving Peter's vehicle (Clifford by name) for the week. We watched the solar eclipse from there, using the free glasses handed out by the Park Service. With about 87% coverage at our latitude, we experienced a gradual "darkening" and temperature cool-off. A fascinating and beautiful phenomenon...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">We caught the Going-to-the-Sun Road shuttle to The Loop, had lunch quickly, then officially started hiking to Canada, down the dry, dusty side trail that connected to the main Flattop Trail. As the afternoon wore on, it became a slow, steep climb for me, very hot and dry. I probably suffered from a touch of heat exhaustion... It was only 6 miles (10km) but it felt more challenging. We walked in a burn zone which had resulted from a devastating fire back in 2003. The views of blue skies and distant peaks were beautiful, since there were no trees to block our line of sight. The regrowth looked healthy and lush, but the stark contrast with burned-out tree trunks was a harsh reminder of the power of wildfires.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjY5uXnUeTtfjZ1Gqgu88w1d8rJXQKhR_vzqkrr2PNsDgvOzPFITrbCW8k4TM_U54Cn7jk-23aqXgmH0us_LrO9BWhnE_Im71AgSA2jH6h0J7FahBs2DeRjSSTsrtM_N16cHUCvzuqOhLH/s1600/burn+zone+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjY5uXnUeTtfjZ1Gqgu88w1d8rJXQKhR_vzqkrr2PNsDgvOzPFITrbCW8k4TM_U54Cn7jk-23aqXgmH0us_LrO9BWhnE_Im71AgSA2jH6h0J7FahBs2DeRjSSTsrtM_N16cHUCvzuqOhLH/s640/burn+zone+2.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">We (mainly Peter...) ate our fill of fresh berries: thimbleberries, huckleberries and currants. I'm not sure Peter left any for the bears! Fresh fruit, even tiny berries like those, were tasty and refreshing, even as the temperature was increasing and I was generally losing my appetite with the rising trail. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">We arrived at the Flattop BCCG around 5:30pm. Two other groups were already camped there so we took the last site farthest away from the food preparation area. It was dusty but flat with no rocks, and the tent went up in a couple of minutes. I dove in and was almost immediately asleep, while Peter went to hang the food out of bear reach, and meet our neighbors. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">There were two young German guys, and a young couple from Prague. They were all very nice, and the conversation over dinner was interesting and lively. All of them were carrying large heavy packs filled with canned and jarred food, and big plastic containers, while Peter pulled out little pouches of a most excellent beet and kale risotto he had made (and dehydrated) at home. It was delicious! Since I'd lost my appetite during the hike, I really needed to consume some calories at dinner. I ate very well (gourmet cooking at that!), and felt much better after dinner. We went to bed just around sundown, knowing we'd have a long 17-mile day (30km) the next day. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I was about to fall asleep when I heard something outside our tent. I felt bad but still woke Peter up... I was a little paranoid about bears ("bear-anoid"?), and the darkness, and utter and complete silence all around magnified that paranoia. Peter woke up, we both listened then shooed away whatever was out there. Peter said, "that was the sound of hooves, that's just a deer", and promptly went back to sleep. I took a few more minutes while my heartbeat slowed down after the initial adrenaline rush, but fell asleep soundly as well. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Not long after, we heard the Czech couple (male and female voices) loudly screaming and clapping their hands, to chase away what they obviously thought was a bear. The thing is, they kept doing that again... All... Bloody... Night... We heard the German guys chime in as well. So we had a fitful night of falling asleep briefly, only to be awakened again and again by panicked hand claps and shouts. Half-awake, I kept expecting shrieks of terror signaling some kind of attack, but fortunately, that never came. </span>Eventually, one of the Germans yelled, "Guys! It's a deer, not a bear!", and things stayed quiet for a couple of hours. Our alarms were set for 5am, but we decided to snooze until 6am. We needed more rest before the long day ahead.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><i>Tuesday, August 22, 2017</i></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Up just after 6am, we struck camp quickly, ate breakfast then started up the trail at 7:35, aiming for the Fifty Mountain campsite as our first milestone. We saw signs of bears, but no actual bears, and met only a couple of other hikers. The landscape was stunning, as we gradually made our way up and out of the burn zone and entered a vast meadow filled with beautiful fireweed in bloom: blue skies, pink flowers, green sparse forest... Stunning. We reached Fifty in about 3 hours. The campsite was deserted and we decided to take a break and eat an early lunch, and take advantage of the available facilities. I wasn't very hungry again, but managed to nibble, while Peter devoured lots of food (still a growing boy...?). We got going again, knowing we had another 11 miles to hike to get to Waterton River.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I loved the hike. I realized at some point that I was not thinking about much more than what was immediately around me. I was looking at the trail in front of me, inhaling the fresh mountain air (not smoky that day, luckily), glancing at distant peaks, occasionally chatting with Peter, but not worrying about anything. Not thinking about work or home or "next week" or anything that got in the way of a nice long relaxing walk...</span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8HYIbv0J8KUyyqQzISS9Rm6oZA9nv2BQHF3AjykK1juw92RglKM029MToN2ypGMWDm2CUpwyY8_argyQbWxnYE369-3OObJZUf3iO9qBtuT9lFqhPxtr2uNWbPl4ZxNaefVRq3FMGFD0t/s1600/incas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8HYIbv0J8KUyyqQzISS9Rm6oZA9nv2BQHF3AjykK1juw92RglKM029MToN2ypGMWDm2CUpwyY8_argyQbWxnYE369-3OObJZUf3iO9qBtuT9lFqhPxtr2uNWbPl4ZxNaefVRq3FMGFD0t/s200/incas.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>Were the Incas involved with this?</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">The scenery varied, with a gorgeous high plateau below a tall and very wide wall of colorful striated bands of rock. I threatened to break into song and serenade Peter with "The hilllllllls are aliiiiiiive with the sound of muuuuuuuusic...", but was warned that unless I knew ALL the words and could sing it WELL, I should probably abstain. I abstained. We walked past the ruins of a former ranger shelter (we think), which somehow evoked the masonry skills of the Incas: perfectly cut massive stones that all fit in like pieces of a puzzle.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"> </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVxKZ3pmxHgw_HDlJOmIwkzRgd6G68ydQ0LYv2nw_RFROr_LdSpLEBhyphenhyphenPJnldScW-_W9-a5bZ5OXfYJFqu6F7MIDbG4tbls-W7dBkVezJh8_UEIHsq02uRKhW-lFHlnGDOEXnZtK0u-YDS/s1600/hills+alive.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVxKZ3pmxHgw_HDlJOmIwkzRgd6G68ydQ0LYv2nw_RFROr_LdSpLEBhyphenhyphenPJnldScW-_W9-a5bZ5OXfYJFqu6F7MIDbG4tbls-W7dBkVezJh8_UEIHsq02uRKhW-lFHlnGDOEXnZtK0u-YDS/s640/hills+alive.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">The hills were alive with the sound of birdsong and summer wind...</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Eventually, we started descending toward the valley bottom, which we could glimpse once in a while. We could hear waterfalls intermittently, as we made our way down switchback after switchback, on a trail that was sometimes overgrown and narrow. Berries were abundant on both sides of the trail, leaving me wondering why the bears had missed so many of those spots. We made noise talking or clanging our walking poles periodically, wanting to avoid surprising a bear around a blind corner. But Yogi Bear and Boo-boo stayed out of sight.</span></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></span>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0pdQVmkgyKZ2ZQs76Dqu5FJNs6Cqpew3a27fz268HhVSVhryRSyp4aBKfvlkQiU0smKW0ClEJFqISP1gjn0DnLx4Sg-bZHYVtWaCFeIKBAsn38ooX3y1VPLSfduuZIg-WW3hFKV1DHAcD/s1600/waterfall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0pdQVmkgyKZ2ZQs76Dqu5FJNs6Cqpew3a27fz268HhVSVhryRSyp4aBKfvlkQiU0smKW0ClEJFqISP1gjn0DnLx4Sg-bZHYVtWaCFeIKBAsn38ooX3y1VPLSfduuZIg-WW3hFKV1DHAcD/s320/waterfall.jpg" width="240" /></span></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">After a few hot miles, with our feet starting to ache under the weight of our packs, we reached a great resting spot by the cascading river. The perfect place to soak our hot feet in cold flowing water... Ahhhhhh, did that ever feel great! After several minutes, we also refilled our bottles, put our shoes back on, and got moving again.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">The forest was lush, and we were walking down. I felt sorry for the few hikers we met who were headed uphill towards Fifty, under the increasingly hot sun. Thank goodness we were heading north!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Several miles later, we reached the trail junction to Stoney Indian, once more by the river. We took another long rest, both of us experiencing the pain of hot sore feet. It is amazing what a cold foot soak can do to relieve that pain, cool down core body temperature, and generally invigorate tired hikers. Peter was still scarfing down food, while I could barely eat anything. But I could drink lots and lots of cold fresh (filtered) water from a clear mountain stream. That water tasted of pure goodness...</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Our break was longer than usual, but with 3 miles left to go, we didn't really care. We eventually got going again, and I took the lead for a while, with a second wind that I suspected wouldn't last very long. The forest trail was beautiful and we saw a few more hikers. My feet were getting more painful, but we knew we were close. We soon got to Goat Haunt, about half a mile from our destination at the Waterton River campsite. While Peter chatted briefly with a ranger who was checking permits, I was starting to fade quickly. My feet were on fire, and I wasn't sure how much longer I would last standing on them. We started walking again and hit a short patch of paved pathway. Both of us yelled at the same time! That rough, bumpy, rocky, hot pavement was the worst! My right foot felt like it was on fire, and very suddenly, I felt a huge blister materialize under the ball of my foot. Urghhhhh... thank goodness we were almost at camp but I didn't want a blister to wreck the rest of my week.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRKt90EM7f2VBxicuuHhyF69nDo9662sPYI_xKf6UqRqjO8tuHcoRtOpdr5XyuiEZFiKDSpTgHD4huxNhlBiIMyN6WtNwsHyqzj4y1oZTqpZsG_UORvoSmCt8RAxzvGvXfxyC8sCyVdBeo/s1600/horse+ford.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRKt90EM7f2VBxicuuHhyF69nDo9662sPYI_xKf6UqRqjO8tuHcoRtOpdr5XyuiEZFiKDSpTgHD4huxNhlBiIMyN6WtNwsHyqzj4y1oZTqpZsG_UORvoSmCt8RAxzvGvXfxyC8sCyVdBeo/s320/horse+ford.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>We could have forded the river right here...</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">We got to the Horse Ford. I took one look at the river, and too tired to bend down and remove my shoes, I said "let's keep walking along the trail, the ranger said it wasn't much farther". The ranger had also said the food preparation area for the campsite was just on the other side of the Horse Ford, but at that precise moment, that fact failed to register in my tired and heat-addled brain. So we kept walking, with Peter gaining a second wind, and me wilting completely. Feeling faintly nauseous and with feet melting, I plodded on, getting increasingly annoyed at every blade of grass that got in my way, and every insect and occasional mosquito that buzzed around me. What was "not much farther" turned into over half a mile, and I had a blowtorch setting my feet on fire with every step.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">We reached a suspension bridge that spanned the river upstream from the Horse Ford. Peter went across, telling me it was wobbly and to be mindful of that. By then, I didn't know if I was going to throw up or not, and all I could think about was getting to camp. I crossed, barely noticing or caring that the bridge wobbled. We did eventually reach camp, arriving at the food preparation area, and noting that if we'd crossed the Horse Ford, we would have arrived at least 15 minutes earlier, with fresh and cooled-off feet. Oh well, blame the lack of information processing on a tired and hot brain. Also on the fact that the ranger could have been a bit clearer in his explanation...</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Looking at my watch, I observed that we arrived in camp *exactly* ten hours to the minute after setting out from Flattop in the morning. Not bad! We had estimated that it could take as much as 12 hours, depending on the terrain and the slow pace I might keep. But at 10 hours, both of us were at our feet's limit, and we were very glad to have reached camp.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">To continue the tradition of all my trips with Peter, my stomach finally gave in to the nausea that had plagued it for a while, and I dry heaved for a few minutes. (Peter probably thinks I go through life nauseous every day, but that's only because every trip I've been on with him, he's had to witness some form of upset-stomach event. I swear, it really doesn't happen that often.). The stomach cramps subsided and I immediately felt better, ready to keep walk-- ...nah... I did feel better, but no more walking for the day!</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">We pitched the tent, inflated our sleeping pads, crawled into our shelter, and woke up 1.5 hours later, hungry and somewhat rested, feet less sore (but still blistered).</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Peter made a fantastic chicken vegetable ramen soup, and while I was hungry enough to eat a decent amount, I still wasn't starving. I ended up walking 17 miles on about 500-600 calories that day, and was barely able to refill the tank at the end of the day. But I still felt much much better, and just happy to have had such an amazingly beautiful, breathtaking day in the backcountry. Each section of the trail presented us with varied landscapes, from flowery meadows to wide open valleys far below us, to colourful rocky walls above us. The sun shone all day, and the multiple creek and river crossings allowed us to rest and soak our weary feet every time we needed it.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">We chatted over dinner with a wonderful family from northern Michigan: the parents (Ken and Wendy) and their three college-age children. All were interesting, worldly, well-traveled, and nice company to share a meal with.
Back into the tent as the sun set, I fell asleep quickly, hoping no one would shout at imaginary bears during the night.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><i>Wednesday, August 23, 2017</i></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">With nowhere to go fast that day, we slept in and took advantage of the nice morning to rest until 8:30. After breakfast, I went back and rested a bit more, trying to take care of the nasty blister under my foot that was making it a bit awkward to walk long distances in my shoes. My flip flops, fortunately, were more comfortable, so hanging out around camp was easy. Peter went scouting for a good fishing spot, and came back after a while to pick up a few more items, having identified where he wanted to go try his luck. He took off and we agreed to meet back at camp later in the afternoon. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I rinsed some clothes in the river, had lunch by myself, then forded the river and walked over to Goat Haunt. By fording the river, it took 8 minutes, in flip flops, to get to Goat Haunt... all I could think of was, why hadn't we forded the river the night before, instead of walking an extra unpleasant half mile. I spent the afternoon lying on the boat dock at Goat Haunt, soaking in the sun, resting and admiring the view. Just plain chilling...<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; font-size: x-small; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC2eA8toS_hoHxXV-szZRZrb_i1OK7bcSfYmaVYqP9PtHKZt_r9cHSEotlsGHWaNLYJbwsABe2wYkLsK4HTNI_vxEVX5c1bVWeFMcvQgJzT54Bu5n1a37hW6gWlusYburT67SoYqDuopki/s1600/hanging+on+the+dock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC2eA8toS_hoHxXV-szZRZrb_i1OK7bcSfYmaVYqP9PtHKZt_r9cHSEotlsGHWaNLYJbwsABe2wYkLsK4HTNI_vxEVX5c1bVWeFMcvQgJzT54Bu5n1a37hW6gWlusYburT67SoYqDuopki/s320/hanging+on+the+dock.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Sitting on the dock of the bay, total relaxation...</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">The 2pm ferry from Waterton came in, disgorged a bunch of tourists who were only allowed to walk near the ranger station for 15 minutes (since they hadn't officially been admitted into the US), and then returned to Canada. I checked the schedule, as we were planning on taking the ferry the next day.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Around 4pm, I returned to the campsite, met two new neighbors, then heard Peter whistling up the path. He strolled into camp like Little Opie on the Andy Griffith Show, carrying his fishing pole, and two whitefish for dinner! Success! </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSgyWoXC0VwaJyQIOVnAKh0Dcjx7weisENlskp6uqmev6Ze6RueLwydnAU00uUK4YLmMQEqQ52pK81r1flUwE6EerMwzKT6GmBKczfj78yLL6-rlyBAmLxfb046Dk3zqLXmGmNDYSdEZ9r/s1600/fish+for+dinner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSgyWoXC0VwaJyQIOVnAKh0Dcjx7weisENlskp6uqmev6Ze6RueLwydnAU00uUK4YLmMQEqQ52pK81r1flUwE6EerMwzKT6GmBKczfj78yLL6-rlyBAmLxfb046Dk3zqLXmGmNDYSdEZ9r/s200/fish+for+dinner.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>Fixin' dinner</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">A disparate group of five hikers arrived with a "guide" who looked too young and inexperienced to be a guide, then a couple of other backpackers also showed up. Our quiet little camp was suddenly crowded! After my delicious dinner of couscous and whitefish, I retired a bit earlier than the others. The conversation wasn't that interesting and I preferred the quiet of our tent. Peter joined me a little while later and we chatted for a few minutes before quickly falling asleep.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><i>Thursday, August 24, 2017</i></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">We woke up Thursday to leaden skies... We started breakfast in dry conditions but soon, a light rain started, a harbinger of worse things to come. Wrapping up breakfast quickly, we packed away food stuff and dove into the tent just as the skies opened up. Our plans to hike to Lake Janet were tossed out. Neither of us felt like getting soaked for the sake of a short walk and marginal views. The rain was heavy, and as we lay dry inside the tent, we started discussing our plans to get the ferry at Goat Haunt, to cross to Waterton, Alberta. Our choices were 11:25am, 2:25pm or 5:30pm. With not much to do on either side of the crossing save getting wet, we hesitated and eventually, I fell asleep. Peter woke me at 10:50am with, "It stopped raining! Come on, we're packing up and catching the 11:25!" </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Wait... WHAT...?!? I got up and packed my bag as Pete started dismantling the tent around me. We had to rush, but I knew from the day before that if we left camp by 11:10, we could make that ferry. We threw stuff into backpacks willy-nilly, and then, wearing flip flops, hurried for the last time across the river. We hustled down the short trail, and reached Goat Haunt with several minutes to spare, along with the tourists who were starting to board the ferry back to Canada. Introducing ourselves to the crew, we told them we were on a one-way cruise to Canada, and they instructed us on where to meet the Canadian Customs Officer who would officially let us into the country. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">The nine-mile cruise on Upper Waterton Lake, even with cloudy skies, was magnificent. The majestic views of near and distant peaks, the sight of a bald eagle perched up a tree, the stunning rock formations, and great narration by one of the crew, were a respite from the trail, giving our feet a rest and offering a complete change of pace. Seeing the "border" between the US and Canada, a narrow band of deforested land as far as the eye can see, with no one defending either side, was thought-provoking. Nature doesn't care, the wildlife doesn't care, even those who mind the trail and clean up that deforested space every year, a mixed crew of Americans and Canadians working together, don't care. The border is a line drawn by men, not by any necessity of Nature. And so, we sailed past this line in the forest, and cruised into Canada.</span></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"> </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigYq7knaHT6GmYrssQvCOPkwShCojY8qS7ENLj6_vqvMJXp-34dKguhWpktbcd7Y2mpdAPg_oUddc8U2nxupJY5G94STfc2aktpNiiugepLDV5FZEAInemFTkyvAv6ewuPLeETS3dVWg4o/s1600/border+strip.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigYq7knaHT6GmYrssQvCOPkwShCojY8qS7ENLj6_vqvMJXp-34dKguhWpktbcd7Y2mpdAPg_oUddc8U2nxupJY5G94STfc2aktpNiiugepLDV5FZEAInemFTkyvAv6ewuPLeETS3dVWg4o/s320/border+strip.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>The border</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">In the distance, the stunning Prince of Wales Hotel, one of the old CP hotels perched alone on a hill, served as a beacon to mark our arrival to Waterton. The little - very little - town welcomed our boat, and we were met upon disembarking by Customs Agent Lamoureux, who took our names and passport numbers, then welcomed us into Canada. No muss, no fuss... </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">This tiny town with a swelling population of a couple of thousand tourists, maybe, on busy summer weekends, felt like a noisy metropolis, after a mere few days in the backcountry. Too much noise, too many people... back to "civilization"... sigh...</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Hungry, and with no set agenda for the rest of the day except for setting up camp, we stopped at Zum's Eatery for lunch. We then headed to the Town Campsite, a sprawling, nearly treeless expanse of car campsites, RV setups, and the odd tent. It took us a while to find our lot, and then, in gale-force winds, we pitched the tent. Under Pete's guidance, we set it up so it couldn't possibly fly away. Bomb-proof, it was...</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">We took the afternoon off - really, we had nothing much to do! We walked around town, scouted a few places out, checked the schedule for our shuttle to Montana two days later and for the Crypt Lake hike the next day, and even for movies that night. We walked over to the waterfalls and then hiked up to the Prince of Wales Hotel, but somehow managed to not go inside. I suppose it would have been nice to see it and admire the old architecture and classic design. Yet, I didn't really feel compelled to further break the illusion of being "outside" the whole week. I was quite happy with staying in a tent one extra night, and didn't want the contrast of the richness of a railroad-era monument to break the magic spell.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTMLE9KLu-BgpC6Ixz8O-7inRCm1BS4sKGOBKSv2sS6Ei1BEZsPf7X6yzzP5mniGk2RLOTU4ha-ttZ_YoRDCcJQZYr03Xuayw9KEfCnI6xVfVnTMsOwZJMgzSHdIuvD6djT0Ka2r4PICOy/s1600/prince+of+wales+hotel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTMLE9KLu-BgpC6Ixz8O-7inRCm1BS4sKGOBKSv2sS6Ei1BEZsPf7X6yzzP5mniGk2RLOTU4ha-ttZ_YoRDCcJQZYr03Xuayw9KEfCnI6xVfVnTMsOwZJMgzSHdIuvD6djT0Ka2r4PICOy/s400/prince+of+wales+hotel.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The Prince of Wales Hotel, built in 1927</i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">We walked back into town, and dined at Trapper's, a full-on Canadiana experience. The smoked trout, I must say, was divine... We chatted away over dinner, and left afterwards wondering what else this town might have to offer for "an evening out". We'd seen an old-style movie theater, with a showing of "Dunkirk" at 7pm, and "Atomic Blonde" at 9pm. We were just in time for Atomic Blonde, and, almost on a lark, decided, "oh, why not...!". The theater was classic, dating back to 1935, with old (uncomfortable, as they turned out) upholstered seats, and a small screen, but it was perfect for an evening out in Waterton! Atomic Blonde offered the right mix of action and entertainment - nothing Oscar-worthy, but fun enough to fill our evening. We walked back to our campsite under a sky filled with stars, me nursing The Blister, and Peter and I discussing the Cold War and the Berlin Wall coming down in 1989.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">One last night in my comfy, airy tent...</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><i>Friday, August 25, 2017</i></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">We got up early, on a cool, sunny and clear morning. We packed up camp for the last time, kept only a light daypack for the hike to Crypt Lake, and dropped off our gear at our hotel for that night. We found a good breakfast spot at the Larkspur Cafe, then headed to the ferry for the hike to Crypt Lake. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">The hike was all uphill, and beautiful, even offering a couple of "challenges" along the way, in the form of a metal ladder leading into a narrow natural tunnel, and an exposed section secured with a steel cable (you didn't think I went completely without any thrills whatsoever on this whole trip, did you?). The reward after all that work was a breathtaking, awe-inducing view, and an afternoon spent on the rocky beach of Crypt Lake.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"> <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLWWrmappq2kl3T3lqeF8EwdTQimoAt5mtJh-sXMNVkdDDGLc5YhVeg-5fvb4XXBwwkcWS-E8WKPfikqxwA5rXByLeSbaVW7pRaYkaplbPBbPciNOCzA8ii16FWB2Dx7R2RrZ26QUZlpsL/s1600/tunnel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLWWrmappq2kl3T3lqeF8EwdTQimoAt5mtJh-sXMNVkdDDGLc5YhVeg-5fvb4XXBwwkcWS-E8WKPfikqxwA5rXByLeSbaVW7pRaYkaplbPBbPciNOCzA8ii16FWB2Dx7R2RrZ26QUZlpsL/s200/tunnel.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">The tunnel</span></i></td></tr>
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<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Despite the crowds, it was still peaceful and lovely and the kind of place you never want to leave... We stayed put, opting out of walking around the lake (I was still trying to protect my foot from aggravating The Blister). Leaning back against flat rocks, we rested, snacked, chatted with a few folks around us, listened to a group of students out having fun for the day, and just took another break from everyday life. Deep breaths of mountain-fresh air were rejuvenating, and I was sad when the time came to head down, with the goal of catching the 5:30pm ferry. If we made good time, we might catch the 4:00, but that was unlikely. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPxsw_p8oUuosgYgzbfowTykTNflC9554NGZdpuvdlg0GnTaFbnsWvRkv6otnVjgXubwjZr0rJg25DXTsuFh6enMT5lA5yd-05xLeLlddrvqv73Yf3y4Tb2SzOZW35gmVO5yJ9vJfePHJz/s1600/crypt+lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPxsw_p8oUuosgYgzbfowTykTNflC9554NGZdpuvdlg0GnTaFbnsWvRkv6otnVjgXubwjZr0rJg25DXTsuFh6enMT5lA5yd-05xLeLlddrvqv73Yf3y4Tb2SzOZW35gmVO5yJ9vJfePHJz/s640/crypt+lake.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>Crypt Lake</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Walking down, we reversed the exposed section with the steel cable, the tunnel and the ladder. Then just a long series of switchbacks downhill. Pete ate berries, of course. We got down to the dock several minutes past 4pm, and realized we'd have to be patient until the 5:30 ferry, as there was not much shade to sit in. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">A few more people arrived, and eventually, a boisterous group of students from the University of Lethbridge came down, led quietly by their professor and more loudly by one of their own. This guy reminded me of Dave Grohl, of the Foo Fighters, and seemed to have the same kind of easy, happy, laughing, mischievous energy. He coaxed many of his friends - along with Peter - into jumping in the lake for a refreshing swim. I stuck to soaking my feet, while Pete took a dive off the dock. We had plenty of time to dry off while waiting for the ferry, thinking it wasn't coming until 5:30. However, the ferry people must have calculated that it would be best to send another boat sooner, because at 4:50, we boarded the Miss Waterton back to town. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">We checked in at our hotel, since the Town Campsite was booked solid for the weekend. The Waterton Glacier Suites was under renovation in the lobby area, but the rooms were fine (thank goodness...). Taking advantage of the first available hot shower of the week, we cleaned up, after days of wearing the same hiking clothes and pretending not to notice how stinky we'd become... Refreshed, we grabbed a few slices of pizza and a beer at 49°N, then tried to decide how else to spend an evening in Waterton. We walked around town - again! - revisiting the shoreline around the campground, and walking down, then up, Main Street - again! We stopped for ice cream, and headed in soon after. We turned on the TV, and, lulled by the mindless noise, soon fell asleep. I had the big bed, while Pete settled for the couch. Pretty sure both of us would have traded that in for the tent, but all the city slickers from Lethbridge and Calgary had invaded for the weekend...</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><i>Saturday, August 26, 2017</i></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Too much town (and down) time... We both knew it. Waking up at the hotel after a decent night's sleep was good. The second hot shower in a span of 12 hours was luxurious, but I would have happily traded that in for another week of trail and dirty hiking clothes, given the choice.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">On the way to grab breakfast again at Larkspur, Peter found a cell phone on the ground. He was able to find contact information for the owner, and we delivered the phone to its young owner and her relieved mom on the way back to our hotel. With lots of time to kill, we watched some more mindless TV (some old movie on the Family Channel), and both fell asleep briefly. Too. Much. Time. In. Town...</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">We rechecked our shuttle schedule at Tamarack Outfitters. That was part of the problem. The shuttle back to Montana was no longer operating the way it had in previous years, and now depended on a Canadian operation out of Tamarack, and an American operator (Suntours) to pick us up on the US side of the border. The shuttle didn't leave Waterton until 2:30pm, bringing us to St. Mary (and Peter's red truck Clifford) at a projected time of about 4pm, ready for the 5 hour drive back to Bozeman. If it had been up to us, we would have left in the morning...</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEyCEefb0_tSLmANxqDoFVOwwlpc10pj3CYk5TqnqZaRXRehUwDd-uun212jHvCHUk74_BnrvFzd_nvw4jqH7yJJFutOicLifvp76stpTNeE30XPaRoNWWB8s4kZXUtEeO_QEyn63VkQhI/s1600/waterton+from+bears+hump.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEyCEefb0_tSLmANxqDoFVOwwlpc10pj3CYk5TqnqZaRXRehUwDd-uun212jHvCHUk74_BnrvFzd_nvw4jqH7yJJFutOicLifvp76stpTNeE30XPaRoNWWB8s4kZXUtEeO_QEyn63VkQhI/s400/waterton+from+bears+hump.jpg" width="300" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>Waterton, Upper Waterton Lake and <br />Montana, from Bear's Hump</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">With several more hours to fill, we walked to the Bear's Hump trailhead, and joined the throngs of tourists making the hike uphill to get the best possible view of the town, the lake, and far into Montana. The expected "hour to 1:15" hike took us 45 minutes, though it was all uphill and I couldn't quite keep up with Pete for the second half. I reached him about a minute after he made the top, and joined the dozens of people scattered on the wide rocky expanse to rest and admire the gorgeous view. We hiked a little further up, escaping the crowds one last time and gaining an even better view.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Calculating it would take us 30 minutes to go down and head into town, we hiked back down the trail, and grabbed one last lunch in town, at the Taco Bar, conveniently located across our one and only movie theater. A nice lunch outside, watching the world go by, marked the end of our time in Waterton. We headed to Tamarack, changed into marginally cleaner clothes for the long drive back to Bozeman, and boarded the Canadian shuttle, driven by a nice and quirky young man who had moved to Waterton after falling in love with the mountains and the lakes. He dropped us off on the Canadian side of the border.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"> </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimT6snHEM0Sh-fMvQE1VdwhfLusJ0vFECJd8Ared4BJa0dXVBzlpw7Gm_QMm6q_IGCF6KP0I64M4dObIEVKgriwEvAiIYol_svL2ZE2LQIClP6BAWywpAVibYBU9UlHMzRxY8u7ZplMrJw/s1600/back+to+the+usa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimT6snHEM0Sh-fMvQE1VdwhfLusJ0vFECJd8Ared4BJa0dXVBzlpw7Gm_QMm6q_IGCF6KP0I64M4dObIEVKgriwEvAiIYol_svL2ZE2LQIClP6BAWywpAVibYBU9UlHMzRxY8u7ZplMrJw/s320/back+to+the+usa.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>To the right, Alberta. <br />To the left, Montana.</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">We walked several meters to the actual border marker, once more stared at the never-ending rip through the forest dividing north and south, then walked to the US side. A friendly agent met us there, checked our passports, and after chatting for a minute or so, indicated where we would likely find our US shuttle.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Charles and his wife Sue, from the Browning, Montana, Blackfeet Reservation, met us with a friendly smile, and chatted with us all the way back to St. Mary. Pete knew the community well, and the conversation was interesting. Tough living, no doubt about it, but these folks seemed to have made better of their circumstances than some of their peers... </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Back to St. Mary just before 4pm, we hopped into Clifford the Trusty Red Truck and hit the road. We stopped once for gas, and that was it. Just straight down the road, through mountains and prairies, and beautiful country. Near Helena, we entered a very smoky section, due to the wildfires in the west. The smoke was thick, the visibility reduced, and the sky the colour of dulled candlelight at dusk... On the other side, the air cleared up somewhat, but the sun was setting bright red, in murky skies and hazy air.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"> </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnJ6z3AwjfvIVCVciL7uInWO_nwjTkD0N_bURT7tDSnP8z0LiRceErhu3Qc5pqgm6NA21LA8jEF2tsIoUJE4l56Nc4-msNnrrHQj3I8qNzK4ZnLY70EuU0LmFyKeYbJl7HR5tlfnXW5CuT/s1600/smokey+sunset+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnJ6z3AwjfvIVCVciL7uInWO_nwjTkD0N_bURT7tDSnP8z0LiRceErhu3Qc5pqgm6NA21LA8jEF2tsIoUJE4l56Nc4-msNnrrHQj3I8qNzK4ZnLY70EuU0LmFyKeYbJl7HR5tlfnXW5CuT/s320/smokey+sunset+2.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>Smoky Sunset</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">We arrived in Bozeman at 9pm sharp. Sky Dog was waiting for Peter with a fast-wagging tail and a happy whine. I was treated to lots of licks on my salty legs! Becca arrived home shortly after. Over a salad of freshly-picked kale, we looked at Peter's pictures and shared our week with Becca. "Wow, it's already over...", was all I could think. Where did the time go? How was it that this week I had been anticipating for so long had already come and gone?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><i>Sunday, August 27, 2017</i></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I was up at 5:30am, and Peter dropped me off at Bozeman airport for my 6:30am flight (the joy of small airports!). It's always hard saying goodbye to Pete, as it inevitably marks the end of a great adventure and a wonderful trip. Spending a week backpacking and camping with a friend you only see once a year or so makes for an intense week, and going my own way afterwards is always difficult. But - it's also always with discussions of potential future trips and other destinations, and promises of soon making real plans for next year. I only wish I had planned this trip for two weeks. I wasn't ready to come home yet...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Returning to reality after the trip has not been easy! My work travel schedule in the days following my return was severely disrupted by flight delays, causing me to miss meetings, and I felt like I was traveling incessantly without getting anywhere, all the while getting exhausted with fruitless wake-up calls at ungodly hours. Reports of worsening wildfires in Montana and specifically inside Glacier National Park, and soon after Waterton Lakes National Park, sadden me greatly. They are part of a natural renewal process, but spending a week in the area was enough for me to develop a certain kinship with the people and the Parks. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Like many wonderful places I've traveled to in the past, "I can't wait to go back". But... with so many other amazing places still to discover, where to next...?</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"> </span></span><br />
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</span>HSBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14777671812338203740noreply@blogger.com0Glacier National Park, Montana, USA48.7596128 -113.7870225000000323.2375783 -155.09561650000003 74.2816473 -72.478428500000035tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3714710739320616201.post-74652418808531111552016-06-25T06:06:00.001-07:002018-02-10T17:05:50.790-08:00Mount Rainier 2016<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<b><span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 17.0pt;">Here and Now<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica";">Athletic endeavours – whether in a competitive setting
or completed as a personal challenge – are often used as metaphors for life. To
strive; to go beyond one’s perceived capabilities; to vie for some kind of victory;
to improve over time through learning, training and hard work; that’s not just
how we win at sports, it’s how most of us choose to live life. For me, no other
sport epitomizes that metaphor better than mountaineering.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Climbing a mountain is magic. It’s purity at its
purest. Clean air, vibrant colours, the whitest white and the bluest blue.
Nature which cannot be tamed, but which accepts, perhaps reluctantly, the
presence of humans. The mountain is in charge, we are but guests on its flanks,
and we had better know how to behave. The scale and grandiosity of our
surroundings are both intimidating and intoxicating, inducing wild adrenaline
surges, and just as powerfully soothing and relaxing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo credit: Danny Edmonson</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">I had the privilege of climbing a mountain for the
first time in the early 2000’s, and fell in love with a sport that I had only
read about (obsessively, I might add) for a few years prior. I wasn’t able to
get to the mountains often after that, but two years ago, I decided, on a whim,
to sign up again for a climb of Mount Rainier (14,410 ft), in the state of Washington.
Back in 2005, I’d had to pull out of the climb at the very last minute due to a
back injury, and it had always been in the back of my mind that I would, one
day, finally get to Mount Rainier. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Not My First Rodeo<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">I went to Mount Rainier in 2014, and reached my high
point about 2,000 vertical feet from the summit. I had not prepared well. For
weeks leading up to it, I was in denial, in a weird way, that I had signed up
to climb a difficult mountain. I started feeling unwell with gastro-intestinal
issues at the top of the aptly-named Disappointment Cleaver, and turned around,
mentally unprepared to push through discomfort and fear of the unknown. When I
came home, the first question everyone asked was, “Did you summit?”. Not “how
was your climb?”, not “did you have a good time?”. The only thing that seemed
to matter was whether I had reached the top. I hadn’t, and felt compelled, like
all mountaineers who are inevitably asked the same question, to justify why I
had not summited. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">I came back from that first attempt somehow more
determined to go back and try again. It wasn’t something I debated for long, I
knew I had to go back and do it again, with better preparation and a more
determined outlook. The guide who had assisted me down from my high point at
the top of the Cleaver also played a role in this. Peter Ramos and I chatted
for a couple of hours while descending by ourselves, and he did a great job
selling me on the idea that I should go climbing in the Tetons (Wyoming) that
same summer with him. I did just that, in August 2014, and reached the summits
of Middle and South Tetons (most people have only heard of Grand Teton), which
both required a significant physical effort on my part, and an even greater
conquest of my fear of heights and general lack of athleticism for such
endeavours. Bottom line is, I did it. I succeeded. And I started believing that
I should keep climbing mountains, because… it feels amazing. I’m not great at
it, but I love the experience of being in the mountains. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">I went back to Mount Rainier last year. I had trained
better, had a much improved mental approach to the climb, and didn’t suffer
from pre-climb jitters since I knew what to expect. I reached the top of
Disappointment Cleaver, was sick to my stomach repeatedly, kept pushing on
despite having no energy, and got within about 1,000 vertical feet of the
summit before, once more, turning around and making my way back down the
mountain, disappointed, angry, and knowing that for the second time, I’d have
to explain why I didn’t make it all the way to the top. The weather was
perfect, the temperature almost too warm, the group strong, the guides
fantastic. So what was wrong with me that I couldn’t reach an altitude (14,410
feet) that I had often exceeded on previous climbs, like Kilimanjaro and
Chachani, both over 19,000 feet high?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">The Mountain beckoned again in 2016. There was no
doubt I was going to try once more. I figured with good training, and a better
approach to nutrition, I would once and for all avoid the gastro-intestinal
problems that had plagued me the previous two years. This time, I also requested
that Peter be on the climb as one of the guides for our group. My friendship
with Peter had evolved since we had first met on Rainier in 2014, and I knew
that having him there would be a huge asset. Through the trips we’ve done
together, he’s come to know me very well, and knows what buttons to push to keep
me going forward and upward. I signed up for the June 2016 climb back in August
2015, and it became my main goal for the first half of this year. Another goal
was a difficult and demanding backcountry ski trip with Peter, which was
supposed to take place in February. Peter and I had gone backcountry skiing in Wyoming
last year, and it was another sport I decided to pursue. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Never Sell the Bear’s Skin Until You’ve Killed the Bear”</span></i></b><b><span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 14.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica";">(</span><span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica";">French for “Don’t Count Your Chickens Before They Hatch”)<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">I trained pretty diligently on the bike and in the gym
through November, December and January, encouraged and motivated by my cycling
coach Ed Veal, and many friends, starting with Mike Mandel and the Morning
Glory crew at Gears Indoor Cycling Studio here in Toronto. Then, life took a
bit of a turn for the unexpected. At the end of January, I had a very sudden,
and potentially life-changing health issue that threw everything into question.
Fortunately, no underlying issues were found, and I received a 100% clean bill of health. But due
to the nature of what happened, I lost my driver’s license for 6+ months. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">I decided to walk everywhere, and to avoid taxis and
transit as much as possible. I knew if I gave in to “oh, I’ll call a cab just
this once”, I would end up doing it all the time. I have wonderful friends who
offered to drive me places, and I took them up on their offers when it made
sense, but I always went grocery shopping and ran errands on foot, with my big
backpack. I walked everywhere in the city, and even got up at 4:30am to walk 30
minutes to Gears, in order to do a 1:30 hour-workout on the bike. I gave in to
temptation a few times and accepted a ride home afterwards. The point is, I
walked, a lot, and most often, I carried a pack weighing anywhere from 15
pounds to 40 pounds. If that’s not a fundamental part of mountain climbing
training, I don’t know what is.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">I did lose the flexibility to drive out of town to go
skiing whenever I wanted. I had planned on driving to ski-country north of
Toronto, bringing my ice axe and crampons, and practicing walking with
crampons, self-arrest techniques, and other mountaineering “stuff”, thinking it
would help me build a foundation prior to heading back to Mount Rainier. That
didn’t happen, and that’s unfortunate. More significantly, I had to cancel my
February backcountry ski trip with Peter – it was too soon after the health
issue, and it was recommended that I ease back into things. I was beyond sad
about that, but I turned lemons into lemonade by joining my other good ski
friends on a less demanding but fun ski trip in late March.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Back to Mount Rainier<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Peter was confirmed as one of the four guides for our
Mount Rainier climb. That was exciting. While I’ve only known Peter for two
years, experiences on mountains and in the backcountry are intense, and lead to
people getting to know each other well. Peter understood my motivations for going
back, and was eager to get me to the summit of Rainier this time. He has my
trust, and I knew I had the best possible coach and cheerleader in my corner to
help me reach my goal safely. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Our expedition this year was once more composed of
eight clients and four guides (the usual make-up of the 3-day Mount Rainier
Muir Climb with Alpine Ascents International). The eight members of the
expedition all met on the day before the climb for Gear Check, which Peter
conducted. Gear Check consists in a thorough review of every piece of equipment
that each climber will be packing or wearing on the climb. It is a crucial part
of any expedition. Bring too much, and you will be carrying an excessively
heavy pack, putting yourself at risk of accident or injury, not to mention
undue fatigue and an inability to keep pace. Bring the wrong things, or forget
something essential, and you become a liability to yourself and to the group.
Peter ran an efficient Gear Check session, all eight clients packed their bags
with the right stuff, and we all went our separate ways, to rest up before
meeting the next morning for our 6am departure from Seattle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Peter and lead guide Craig Van Hoy joined us for the
drive to Mount Rainier National Park. As we reached the Paradise parking lot
(5,400 feet), fresh snow dusted the surrounding trees, and the parking lot was
covered in thick slush. What a contrast with last year, when it was summer and
the mountain meadows were exploding with fireworks of wild flowers! This year,
the climb promised to be much colder and snowier.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Sitting in the comfort of the Paradise Inn lobby, we
went through introductions with all eight clients and three of our guides.
Clients included Pamela and Andy (Seattle), Andrew (Hawaii - yeah, I know…!),
Danny (Nashville), Charlie (NorCal), Chris (Chicago), Susan (Michigan), and
myself. All are lovely people (I’m not just saying that), and the group seemed
to gel quickly. Everyone was fit, motivated, a little nervous, and eager to be
part of a great team. The vibe was fun and positive.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Our lead guide, Craig, is a renowned and incredibly
well-accomplished mountaineer with climbs of Everest and Kanchengjunga, and countless
other notable ascents. He held, for years, the speed record for Rainier (5hr 22
min from Paradise to the summit back to Paradise – which is crazy fast!). It
would be his 424th climb of Mount Rainier. That’s not a typo. Four hundred and
twenty-four successful climbs of Rainier if he reached the summit with us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Our other guides were Peter (who is also qualified as
an Expedition Nurse), Dylan Cembalski, and Devin Bishop (who was waiting for us
at Camp Muir). Devin was my lead guide last year, and I looked forward to
seeing him again. I was once more impressed by the quality of the Alpine
Ascents International guides. Highly experienced, focused on safety, and
capable of gauging and dealing with eight strangers who – for the most part –
have never climbed a mountain before. I was, on paper, more experienced than several
in the group. But attempting one mountain climb a year makes me a beginner at
best. Add to that the fact that I failed to reach the summit two years in a
row, and I can honestly claim that I have zero ego when it comes to mountain
climbing. I know nothing and am willing to soak up everything the guides can
teach me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">We started up the Muir Snowfield in fresh snow that
was sometimes ankle-deep. The climb to Camp Muir is a long slog. It takes roughly
5.5 hours of climbing (including a total of about 30-40 minutes of breaks), and
feels like climbing up a long ski slope. A beautiful, never-ending ski slope.
We gained 5,000 vertical feet in those 5.5 hours. We carried packs that weighed
somewhere between 35 to 40 pounds, and this part of the climb gives the guides
an opportunity to gauge who is strong, who is struggling, who can walk
confidently with their packs, who sounds and looks like they will or won’t make
it. As Craig reminded us at the bottom, there was no point worrying about two
things: the weather, since we couldn’t do anything about it; and our fitness,
since it was too late to do anything about it. Training was over. It was time
to show up.</span><br>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Marmot!!!<br>Photo credit: Danny Edmonson</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">The Snowfield was devoid of tourists (unlike last
year), and it felt wilder and more remote than in my previous two experiences.
And I loved it. You have to love the process to enjoy mountain climbing. You
have to find satisfaction in the long slog, the pain of tiring legs, the forced
breathing, the weight of the pack on your back. The guides taught us the rest step
(which I have often practiced, since first learning it many years ago). It
allows the climber to leverage skeletal strength (think “strong femurs”),
instead of relying on fast-tiring muscles (shaky quads and cramping calves
after a while) to balance and support weight. Then it’s all about rhythm, and
efficiency. An efficient rest step is like an efficient pedal stroke and good
cadence for cyclists: it makes the difference between smooth progress, versus
fast-building fatigue from which recovery is difficult. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Photo credit: Danny Edmonson</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Peter was innovating by carrying an umbrella on the
climb. Yes, an umbrella. Predictably, everyone poked fun at the mountain guide
carrying an umbrella up Mount Rainier when he first deployed it at the bottom.
But as the sun initially beat down on us, Peter stayed cool. And then when the
clouds moved in, the temperature dropped, and the snow started falling, Peter was
shielded from the precipitation. “Look who’s laughing now”, he was gracious
enough <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i> to say. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: 12.8px;">Photo credit: Danny Edmonson</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">We reached Camp Muir uneventfully, but in worsening
weather, by late afternoon. The usual routine – one I was very familiar with –
started, with clients settling into the Gombu Hut, unfurling sleeping bags and
making themselves at home in cramped quarters. I claimed the same spot I had
last year, out of the way and tucked in a corner, where no one would have to
step over me to move around. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">After reuniting with guide Devin, and enjoying his
excellent dinner of chicken burritos (I was familiar with the menu!), we all
settled in for the night, with most of us asleep by 9pm. My own innovation this
year: I wore earplugs and a BreatheRight nose strip, and they served me well. I
enjoyed ten blissful, nearly-uninterrupted hours of comfortable sleep. This was
a first for me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">I woke up rested and happy. The skies were mostly
clear, and the day dawned a bit cold, but beautiful. More food, with scrambled
eggs, bacon, and blueberry pancakes. And heaps of French press coffee.
Five-star gourmet cooking, at 10,000 feet. Way to go, Alpine Ascents!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Photo credit: Danny Edmonson</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">As usual, Day 2 breakfast was followed by Snow School.
There are many ways to walk on snow. Our guides taught us the safest and most
efficient ways of doing so, especially while wearing crampons. Then followed
the always-comical yet deadly-serious session on self-arrest techniques. All
eight of us clients were newbies – yes, some of us had done this before, but
practicing self-arrest 2 hours a year does not make an expert, or a trustworthy
climber. So Peter’s advice was more to the point: “Your technique doesn’t have
to be perfect. But if you slip and fall, FIGHT TO STOP! You’re fighting for
your life! I want to see you fight!”. Many of my teammates were more adept than
I was, but ultimately, all of us were fighters, and all of us would trust each
other, and our guides, as rope mates. Good footwork was primordial – don’t
trip, don’t slip, don’t fall. But if you do, fight, fight, fight…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Up at High Camp<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Photo credit: Danny Edmonson</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">High Camp, on the Ingraham Flats, is one of my
favourite places in the whole wide world, bar none. I remember my first time
there two years ago. I felt intimidated, almost scared. It was too much — too
wide, too expansive, too eerie, too daunting, too surrounded-by-dangerous-crevasses,
too exposed… Then I fell in love with all those things. High Camp is where I’ve
listened to the most complete silence, felt the stillest air, seen the most
beautiful sunrises, stared up at The Mountain, and witnessed the rise of the
most breathtaking moon and stars. If you’ve been there and think I’m
exaggerating, just close your eyes, and picture it again… Feel it once more. I
love it there. <o:p></o:p></span><br>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">My rope & tent mate, Danny<br>Photo credit: Danny Edmonson</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">This year, as we reached High Camp, the clouds were
swirling around us, giving the whole Flats a mystical appearance and creating
an almost menacing atmosphere. A deep breath was all it took to feel at peace instantly.
Danny and I claimed our tent. We had roped up together with Peter to come up
from Camp Muir, and we made a good team. I enjoyed Danny’s calm demeanour, his
intelligent conversation, and positive disposition. In a team of eight
excellent people, everyone would have made a good tent mate, but I was happy to
share a tent with him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">After Devin’s excellent cooking the night and morning
before, it was Peter’s turn to make our late afternoon dinner of chicken and
rice stew. I made a point of eating just enough, but not too much. I felt that eating
too much (you need a lot of calories for a 12-hour climbing day) had
contributed to my issues the previous two years. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">We settled into our tent to sleep at 6pm. Craig had
promised to wake us up no earlier than 1am, depending on the weather. Danny and
I chatted for a while. Intense situations, where people feel a degree of
vulnerability, somehow encourage them to share. We eventually quieted down, and
tried to sleep. My heart was hammering a bit: a mild case of nerves… Would I
make it this time, or was I doomed to repeat the same pattern from the last two
years? I wanted to keep believing that this year would be different, but lying
in the tent, at 11,000 feet, with the wind rising and pelting the tent with
blowing snow, my confidence started to ebb. I dreaded wind. Perhaps I’ve read
too many books about mountain climbs where high winds were a factor… I didn’t
mind cold: I could deal with that. But strong wind high up on the mountain were
something I feared.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">I started listening to the wind gusts picking up
intensity, and the sound of precipitation hitting the tent, and gradually
convinced myself that the climb would be called off due to the worsening
weather. And I felt relieved. I wouldn’t have to go up, and the fact that I
wouldn’t summit would not, for once, be due to my weakness. The mind is
finicky, and it wants to play dumb tricks like that. Paradoxically, I knew I
was ready to tackle the climb if Craig gave us the go-ahead. Dozing off and
waking up periodically, I didn’t get much sleep, and at 1am, in between wind
gusts, I heard someone talking. Expecting Craig to come around to wake us up, I
was surprised when nothing happened. I concluded that the climb was off, and
promptly fell into a deep sleep. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">At 2am, Craig’s voice woke us up, telling us it was
time to go climb a mountain! I’m not sure what emotion won at that moment:
relief that we <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">would</i> climb, or dread
that I would have to go up after all. I struggled to wake up completely, got
dressed in the confines of my sleeping bag, contorted myself to put on my
boots, and finally poked my head out of the tent, expecting vicious weather.
The skies were clear, and the Big Dipper twinkled above the summit of Mount
Rainier. The wind gusts that sounded so fierce from within the tent were fairly
mild after all, and the “precipitation” I had heard against the tent was
nothing but a bit of ground-level blowing snow. We would get to climb. Doubt
left me, and only the joy and excitement of the challenge ahead were allowed
in. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">After breakfast (I stuck to an all-liquid breakfast of
warm energy drink to load up on calories without filling my stomach), we
hurried to finish getting ready, putting on crampons, and verifying our
harnesses were correctly buckled. We tied into our rope, with me directly
behind Peter this time, and Danny bringing up the rear. We would have three
ropes of three — 3 guides each leading a rope, with 2 clients each. Devin,
Susan and Charlie were staying at High Camp; mountaineering is a series of
tough decisions, and Susan and Charlie decided they preferred to stay at High
Camp. They had everyone’s respect for making that difficult call.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Disappointment Cleaver<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">I knew the half-hour walk to the base of
Disappointment Cleaver would not be physically demanding, though it required
concentration as we walked beneath a menacing ice fall on our left, and above wide
crevasses on our right. Yes, this is the real deal big-mountain stuff you see
in movies.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Photo credit: Danny Edmonson</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">I had to pause briefly and put on mitts soon after
leaving camp. My hands were numb already with just my gloves on, and I started
thinking that if I waited for the break at the top of the Cleaver to add a
layer, it would be much too late. Visions of frostbitten blackened fingers had
me putting on my mitts quickly, trying to get blood flowing into my digits again.
Sensation gradually returned to my fingers, with a case of (almost) “</span><a href="http://www.climbing.com/skills/ask-the-climbing-docs-the-screaming-barfies/"><span style="font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">screaming barfies</span></a><span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">”
that would be repeated a few times during the day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">We were walking eastbound (roughly), and before we
reached the base of the Cleaver, the sky was beginning to take on orange and
pink hues, producing a spectacular display of alpenglow on the glaciers of
Mount Rainier. No time to stop and smell the proverbial flowers, or take many
pictures, but time enough to take a deep breath, feel grounded, offer a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">namaste</i> to the Universe, and revel in
being in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">the here and the now</i>. <o:p></o:p></span><br>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinFA3kmeo5oJIEc0f1eBZhNCQRs006KN7eo2jANQIJ6JOjSSy1e1ozMegx9AoaLpmPP-J42mUAEUsL_ir11Uvlr8Mrzs9L2svki1pjDHXy-49s80XYfTvTUE96WgkcLEjYCLUoZaLMJXRO/s1600/Photo+Jun+17%252C+6+01+10+AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinFA3kmeo5oJIEc0f1eBZhNCQRs006KN7eo2jANQIJ6JOjSSy1e1ozMegx9AoaLpmPP-J42mUAEUsL_ir11Uvlr8Mrzs9L2svki1pjDHXy-49s80XYfTvTUE96WgkcLEjYCLUoZaLMJXRO/s640/Photo+Jun+17%252C+6+01+10+AM.jpg" width="640" id="id_d210_6564_156b_3dab" style="width: 640px; height: auto;"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Photo credit: Danny Edmonson</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">The Cleaver, this year, was mostly covered in snow,
which made the climb in crampons much easier than it was a year ago on dry
rocks. In fact, except for two or three irregular steps that challenged my
short legs, the ascent of the Cleaver went better than in the previous two
years, and I arrived at the break feeling strong and confident. That is, if I
chose to ignore the beginnings of rumblings in my gut… <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">I followed the typical break routine: take off your
pack and set it down, put on a “big puffy” (warmest down jacket), get water and
food out, sit on your pack, eat and drink. Breaks are usually between 5-10
minutes every 1-1:15 hours. Efficiency is key to maximize rest and recovery in
such a short time. My hands got cold as soon as I took off my mitts and my
dexterity was not the best. Peter immediately stepped up to help make sure I
was ok. I was – but felt a little less than 100%… I swallowed a few gulps of my
energy drink – which, predictably, had turned fairly thick in the cold. It went
down, but, I knew I was starting down the path of previous years, with stomach
and gut growing unsettled. Damn…</span><br>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3n5zA80g42w7AR2BbrfqEcJl6rP3dxov1tBRNzk65WSJedpKd1vBOznxxu7jXwJlZXasp7B_FzPzzuYwx0BevP4Wj9f4oHKhbhQJkkSVKxI7nzKrNCmn_Yz_d_U052OVdQ-8e2D9TEDP_/s1600/Photo+Jun+17%252C+5+13+39+AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3n5zA80g42w7AR2BbrfqEcJl6rP3dxov1tBRNzk65WSJedpKd1vBOznxxu7jXwJlZXasp7B_FzPzzuYwx0BevP4Wj9f4oHKhbhQJkkSVKxI7nzKrNCmn_Yz_d_U052OVdQ-8e2D9TEDP_/s400/Photo+Jun+17%252C+5+13+39+AM.jpg" width="400" id="id_e8bb_26cf_ddb2_7c4c" style="width: 400px; height: auto;"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Photo credit: Danny Edmonson</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Above the Cleaver<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Break over, we got going again. The temperature had
dropped quickly as we gained altitude, and we kept our big puffy jackets on.
That is unusual: rarely do climbers on Rainier need to keep their big puffy on
while walking uphill. The heat generated by the exertion is usually sufficient
to rewarm the body. But it was cold! With windchill, it was somewhere between -15C
and -20C. My legs were fine, covered only by merino wool long underwear and
hiking pants, but my core needed 3 layers plus the big puffy to stay warm,
without even breaking a sweat. It felt like a cold ski day back home. I
realized that the wind was not as bad as I had feared, and I was relieved to
note that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Less than 5 minutes after we started walking, I yelled
to Peter to “hold up!”. He turned, said, “what’s up?”, as I bent over, tried to
catch my breath, before retching the little bit of fuel I had ingested during
break. I heard Peter say, “oh no, Helen… not again…”. I was pissed off: not
again, indeed… What was it about Rainier and reaching the top of the Cleaver
that seemed to always make me sick? I changed my nutrition, I was in better
shape, so… I guess I have to acknowledge that altitude does affect me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">With no time to acclimatize for a 3-day climb on
Rainier, we count on our bodies not “noticing” we are submitting them to a
dramatic and sudden altitude gain, since we go up and down so quickly. Perhaps
my body just doesn’t appreciate that. But thinking about it made no difference,
I was still throwing up. I did feel better immediately afterward, and found I had
no reason to stop or turn around. But I knew from experience that not being
able to keep food down would eventually leave me depleted and lacking the
energy to keep going, unless I did something differently this year. I
determined that at the next break, I would force food down, or… do something
else…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Holy Crap<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">If you’re squeamish and/or don’t like coarse language,
you might want to skip this section. I’m about to share too much information.
I’ve thought about not sharing this part, but if it can help any reader prepare
for a climb, or better yet, make you laugh along the way, well… why not? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">By the time I reached the second break, I puked again.
There wasn’t much to bring up, fortunately, so it wasn’t that exhausting an
ordeal. I knew I would be sick again, and would keep being sick, unless I did
one other thing: take care of #2. Now, try to picture the scene. Nine climbers
perched on the side of a steep snowy slope, tied together in groups of three,
each person sitting on their pack, all within an area about the size of a small
living room. It’s windy, blustery, -15C or so, and I tell Peter, “I have to use
a blue bag.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Oh, yeah… I forgot to mention that on Mount Rainier,
you can’t just take a dump on the snow and leave it there, or bury it. You have
to do it in a bag designed for that purpose, and carry it with you afterwards
(you get rid of it at Camp Muir on the way down). The bags are blue, hence
“using a blue bag” is the polite euphemism for taking a shit. Peter had
half-expected it (we had discussed this scenario before – like I said, we know
each other pretty well by now), and his response was something along the line
of, “well then, get it done”. Roped up, with a harness around my waist and leg
loops around my thighs, wrapped in a puffy down jacket covering three more
layers, and on the bottom, pants, long johns and underwear, just “getting
ready” is a significant challenge. Add to that: cold stiff fingers struggling
to unbutton pants, eight other people in very close proximity doing their best
to ignore me, and being perched on a narrow snow platform that Peter had kicked
flat for me, and you’ll start to understand what a complex production this was.
Peter provided a shield to hide me from all my new best friends (we were way
beyond just “teammates” at this point), and I took care of business. I will
leave additional details out, but you get the picture. I will add that in the
entirety of the climb, this is the only time where I thought, however briefly,
“What the fuck am I doing here?!?”. The thought made me chuckle, and I knew
things would be all right if I found it within me to laugh at the situation. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">This break took a bit longer than it should have, but
– predictably – I felt exponentially better after. The other two ropes, led by
Craig and Dylan, had started up already, and Peter, Danny and I needed to
hustle. The wind was picking up a bit, blowing more snow and dropping the
temperature further. Peter looked me in the eye, must have seen I was feeling
better, and said, “All right. To the fucking summit!”. I echoed him, with my
own “To the fucking summit!!!”. Off we went, upward and onward. Danny, a
physician by profession, took all this in stride (thank you, Danny, you have my
undying gratitude…), and the three of us tackled the last hour of the climb.
That’s when I knew, for a fact, that I would make the summit.<o:p></o:p></span><br>
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<b><span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 14.0pt;">An Anti-Climactic Climax<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">During that last hour of climbing straight up, the
blue skies disappeared completely, replaced by blowing snow, and eventually
snow falling sideways, pushed by a constant wind. Visibility was reduced
greatly. I heard Peter say, “Helen, we’re here, this is the summit!”. I looked
up, saw my friends on the other two ropes to my left as they were waiting to
high-five us, and I was almost stunned to realize that we were, indeed, at the
crater! Mount Rainier being a volcano, the whole crater rim represents the
summit. There were some big rocks visible, marking the change in terrain from
the upward slope to where the crater began. Other than those rocks, there was
no visible cues that we had reached the top. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">We were in a white-out, and there were no views from
the summit. But we had reached it. I felt elated, and relieved – finally, I had
done it. Danny, Peter and I hugged and congratulated each other. We took three
quick selfies, with Peter’s beard completely covered in icicles being the best
witness to the deteriorating weather conditions. <o:p></o:p></span><br>
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<b><span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Here and Now<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Peter got a call on the radio from Craig, urging us to
start down right away, with no delay. The weather was getting worse, conditions
were serious, and our safety was dependent on us being all together. Nine
climbers are safer than six and three climbing separately. Turning around and
starting down without even stopping for a sip of water or bite of food, we knew
this was no time for distraction, and we needed to make up about 5 minutes, the
approximate distance between us and our friends. “Descending rapidly”, on a
rope, in crampons, under pressure, is easier said than done. The more you
hurry, the more likely you are to trip, catch a crampon on a gaiter or pant-leg,
step on the rope, drop your ice axe, or do myriad things that beginner climbers
are likely to do when the pressure is cranked up. Add to that the fact that
climbers, after summiting, often let their guard down during the descent, due
to fatigue and depletion, and the risk is great of making a mistake. We were
walking in “pea soup” – very low visibility, with little ability to discern
more than the tracks in front of us and the little red flags on wands bordering
the trail at intervals, through our foggy sunglasses. Peter took the lead. Normally
he would have let Danny descend first, so that Peter could be our anchor
uphill, at the back, but due to the limited visibility and Danny’s and my
inexperience navigating safely under these conditions, it was safer for Peter
to be on the front. That meant that Danny and I could not afford to slow down,
stumble, and especially, fall. We did not. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">I adopted a mantra on the way down, to prevent myself
from getting distracted, or “hypnotized” by the whiteness all around me: “Here
and Now”. Right here, right now, is what counts. Yes, we summited, but it
doesn’t count if we don’t make it back to the parking lot at the bottom safely.
So – right here, right now, is all that matters. This step. The next step. And
the next. Nothing else. Lift foot, put foot down safely, quickly, repeat with
other foot. Watch the rope, don’t trip. Plant ice axe. Maintain balance. No
hesitation allowed. Efficient. Solid. HERE. NOW. Total mindfulness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPNnkUhoJRN6-x9AgCa5S9u34eaw6Kz-8SDI-hLpSW3bU3eMAbEt95NzR9H9znRvU61f98ds_t-aRMX47M4aWll1lMVr_pi9ikjhyphenhyphen2X5ZiEiuVVk7PAVzsKaZhyVS4FnklRy5uBXbB_Bs4/s1600/2016-06-15-Muir+-+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPNnkUhoJRN6-x9AgCa5S9u34eaw6Kz-8SDI-hLpSW3bU3eMAbEt95NzR9H9znRvU61f98ds_t-aRMX47M4aWll1lMVr_pi9ikjhyphenhyphen2X5ZiEiuVVk7PAVzsKaZhyVS4FnklRy5uBXbB_Bs4/s640/2016-06-15-Muir+-+5.jpg" width="640" id="id_6316_bb6a_1903_8906" style="width: 640px; height: auto;"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Photo credit: Devin Bishop</span></td></tr>
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(he might disagree), which means Danny and I kept pace. We did quickly catch up
to our friends, and the pace relaxed a bit as we settled into the rhythm that
Dylan established up front. We felt safer in numbers, even though the weather
was still bad. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">We reached the top of the Cleaver again, and took a
very quick standing break. Just time enough for a sip of water and a quick bite
(pretty much my only calories since throwing up during the ascent) before
continuing down. We were confident, not worried and not scared, but keenly
aware that we still had important work to do to get down safely. There was no
time for jokes or levity or chit chat. Our guides were checking that we felt
ok, were not cold or otherwise impeded from making a safe and speedy descent.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">We started down again, through the increasingly snowy
Cleaver. Despite the definite challenge and danger posed by the weather and
fast-accumulating snow, I found the descent of the Cleaver easier this year, compared
to descending on dry rocks last year. Perhaps growing up as a Canadian kid
playing in the snow finally started to pay off. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">As we safely reached the bottom of the Cleaver and
started the traverse (westbound this time) with the jumbled ice fall on our
right and the gaping maw of the crevasse on our left, we couldn’t see any of
that scenery. We just knew that we were in a danger zone, where stopping was
not an option, in case a serac (gigantic block of ice) in the ice fall
collapsed. Peter was right on the tail of the last climber from the previous
rope when, all of a sudden, we heard the unmistakable sound of “something
coming down” – avalanche, or serac collapse – on our right. With the snow
falling and the wind, it was difficult to determine how far this was, and
visibility was too low to see anything. We all froze. I dropped to my knees,
expecting Peter to tell us to go into self-arrest mode (no idea why I thought
that…), but instead, after a few seconds, Peter yelled “move fast!!!” and
picked up the pace very quickly. At 11,500 feet, moving fast is relative. I got
to my feet, and rushed forward, not even noticing whether Danny was tugging on
the rope behind me or not. I took about five quick steps (there was no real running
in crampons, carrying a 20-pound bag, at 11,500 feet…), and then the noise died
down, and… nothing happened, other than my heart rate spiking violently.
Apparently, a serac had collapsed on itself, with no consequence. Phew. This
all happened much more quickly than it took me to write the above or for you to
read it, and so it probably comes across as much more dramatic than it was.
Hum. No, not really. It felt pretty dramatic in the moment. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Back to High Camp and On To Camp
Muir<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">I was familiar enough with the route that despite the
lack of visibility, I had a decent sense of our approach to High Camp. We
turned left towards camp, and all of a sudden, there were a dozen more people
walking on the Flats. They looked like apparitions coming out of nowhere and moving
slowly and randomly through the blizzard. I didn’t know who they were and where
they had come from (descended from above, or climbing up from below?). I
realized they were also descending, ahead of us, and must have been the
climbers from another expedition (they were). They had gotten disoriented
looking for the trail in the very poor visibility. Unlike us, they were not
stopping at High Camp, and were headed down to Camp Muir, another hour away.
Our guide Dylan helped them find their way, while directing our group to our
tents. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Normally, arriving back at High Camp during the
descent offers a brief occasion to celebrate summit success, take a quick
break, down some beverages and food, before repacking all remaining gear
(sleeping bags, sleeping pads, and extra stuff left behind during the push to
the summit). Then, after everyone’s had a half-hour, 45 minute-break or so,
everyone goes back down to Camp Muir together, still roped up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">This time, there was no time to celebrate, or even
take a break. Danny and I jumped in our tent, struggling with a jumble of packs
and boots and sleeping bags and sleeping pads, which resulted in bulky,
poorly-packed bags; trying to swallow a bit of water and food; and hoping to
rest for a few minutes, while our guides were pressing us to hurry, since
weather conditions were still worsening. Peter even had to hurry down leading
another rope, and Craig, Danny and I were the last ones to leave High Camp. I
silently said good-bye to this beautiful place, even though on this trip, we
hadn’t been blessed with all the magnificent views it had to offer. I don’t
know if I’ll make my way back up to High Camp in the future, but it will always
remain special to me. I wish my teammates this year could have had the kind of
experience I had there in the past two years. There’s reason enough to climb
Rainier again, if only to experience High Camp in completely different
conditions.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Upon leaving High Camp, Craig, who has been on Rainier
well over 500 times and summited 424 times, needed a few minutes to find the
little red-flagged wands by the side of the trail in the white-out. I knew,
roped up behind him, that he wasn’t turning left and then right just for the
fun of it. I also knew he would quickly and safely find the trail, which, of
course, he did. I can’t emphasize enough how phenomenally capable and competent
our guides all were. Safety – ours, and their own – comes first, well above any
summit ambitions. Craig is a consummate professional, a calm leader, and I
thoroughly enjoyed his presence and leadership on this trip. We had a chance to
share stories about our respective trips to Bolivia and Cuba, and it was
fascinating to hear him describe his experiences climbing all over the world.
So, I’m glad I got to share a rope with Craig Van Hoy, however briefly. It was
an honour.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Safely arrived at Muir, where it was still snowing,
but much warmer, I was busy changing out of my big puffy into a lighter jacket,
when I heard Devin come out of the WeatherPORT dining tent, asking “where’s
Helen?”. I turned, said, I’m here. He walked straight over to me and gave me a big
hug! Devin was the leader on our expedition last year, and he remembered my
efforts to keep going even after getting sick multiple times. He had given me
huge respect for that, and was genuinely pleased to know I had finally summited.
I was really happy to have that moment with him. Guides take great pleasure in
seeing their clients succeed – whether success is a summit, or the joy of
having climbed higher than ever before – and to have them share that joy with
us is part of what I love about expeditions and climbing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Inside the WeatherPORT, where I had time to drink and
eat a little, I finally gave Peter the huge hug he deserved for helping me get
to the top and back down safely. I know he is very happy for me. And he’s no
doubt happy he won’t have to go back to help me try that one again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 14.0pt;">The Slog Down<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Unroped, unharnessed and uncramponed, we shouldered
our heavier packs and started the downhill slog through heavy and slippery
ankle-deep snow on the Muir Snowfield. In the past two years, I’ve usually come
down that part fairly quickly, at the front of the group, having had a couple
hours’ rest at High Camp while the rest of my teammates were still busy
reaching the summit. Well, this time, I’d had no rest, and had consumed minimal
calories in the last 10 hours, and quickly got dropped by the group. Devin and
Craig were the “sweeps” at the back, so there was no risk of being alone or
getting lost, but every time I caught up to the group, I got distanced again.
My feet were wet and sore and starting to blister, and my legs were getting
tired, there was no denying it. It was uneventful, but it was long. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">I tried to enjoy every step, and remind myself that I
should cherish these last few steps on Mount Rainier. But basically, I just
wanted to be at the bottom. I eventually saw the parking lot, and the Alpine
Ascents van and trailer, and just about everyone else. Relieved to finally be
able to stop walking after 30,000 steps in twelve hours, I got to clean up a
bit and change into clean clothes, before sitting down in the van, heading to
dinner. The climb was done, it was successful, everyone was safely down and had
enjoyed themselves, and six of eight clients had summited. We had earned the
right to say we had climbed in “challenging conditions” (some might want to say
“epic” – oh hell, why not?), and the face-splitting grins all around spoke
volumes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“It’s All Over But the Crying…”<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">You and eleven of your closest dearest newest bestest
friends go mountain climbing for three short days in epic conditions (yes, I
said it, epic), and it’s impossible for intense bonds not to form. We all
developed deep respect for one another. All other clients who summited were
there for the first time, and didn’t have much, if any, mountain climbing
experience. Immense kudos to them all for reaching the summit, in style, on
their first try, in these conditions. Two clients who made a wise, educated,
and mature decision to stay at High Camp, equally deserve kudos for having the
courage and wisdom to make that call. Coincidentally, they are amongst the most
experienced in the group – no doubt they had a good measure of their
capabilities at that point. And I… well, I was the one who finally summited
after two failed attempts; the one who persevered through feeling sick and
having to shit in a bag on the side of a snowy blowy mountain, the one who
needed the most help from her guide. But I made it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 14.0pt;">The Thank-Yous<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">At the risk of sounding like a boring Oscar winner
with a boring speech, I will still endeavour to thank and acknowledge many
people who played a part in this. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Peter – we met on Rainier two years ago, he’s seen me
at my weakest and most vulnerable, and also at my most daring and determined.
He has encouraged me and pushed me (and pulled me) on Rainer, and in the
Tetons, on rock and on skis. There is more to these outdoor adventures for me
than simply showing up for a few days a year and having fun. I didn’t grow up
doing these sports. Every moment on a mountain is a new challenge for me, and
goodness knows it has taken me well into my advanced age to find in me the
belief and confidence to do it. Quite often, that belief is voiced by Peter
before I can recognize it in myself. He has helped me, and continues to help
me, discover abilities and an amount of “daring” that I didn’t suspect I had.
And, in addition to all that, I have a ton of fun on these trips with him. We
will be planning more trips together. And if you’re looking for a great guide
to take you rock or mountain climbing, skiing, and generally “adventuring”,
I’ll gladly put you in touch with Peter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Danny – my rope mate and tent mate. We met during Gear
Check the day before the climb, and then spent two of the next three days tied
by a rope, and sharing very limited confined space. A gentle soul, and a very
caring and generous person. It was an honour and a joy to share this experience
with him. Oh, and he’s also a heck of a great photographer who made magic with
an iPhone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Craig, Devin and Dylan – on my three trips to Rainier,
I have been impressed with the team of guides from Alpine Ascents
International. Every single time. And yet, this time, there seemed to be extra
magic in the air (ok, maybe because I finally summited…). But this team of four
guides (Craig, Devin, Dylan and Peter) had fun working together, were relaxed
and made us feel relaxed, inspired calm confidence with all the clients. Their
professionalism under the more difficult weather conditions was exemplary, and
their ability to bring out the best in every one of us clients, when we could
have so easily faltered, is to be commanded. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Chris, Charlie, Andrew, Pamela and Andy, Susan – you
guys rock! I so enjoyed getting to know you all. And what a delight to see so
many of you reach the summit, and enjoy the climb and expedition experience.
I’m so glad I got to climb with you and I genuinely hope to have the pleasure
again in the future.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">And the support crew…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Mom & Dad didn’t try to talk me out of going on
this climb, even after “the January event”. I’m grateful for that, and thankful
for their genuine pride and overwhelming love, as they sent their
congratulations as soon as I told them we had made it to the top. I’m sorry to
scare you by going on adventures like that, but I appreciate that you worried
silently this time :) You love me beyond description, and I too in return.
Thank you for all the opportunities you have given me, and for the love of
travel you instilled in me way back when. It has defined me more than anything
else. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">My friend Pearl. She is My Person. ‘Nuf said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Ed, who has been coaching me on the bike for a while
now. I’m not as consistent and diligent as I should be with training, and we
both know that. But Ed’s “in my head” a lot, pushing me and urging me on, and I
heard his voice on the mountain too. In his own life, he doesn’t give up, and
he has accomplished many things that others would have denied him. I’ve learned
from him that I should believe I can, that nothing will stop me if decide I
want it badly enough. He lives like that, and yes, it’s inspiring, and I’ve
drawn a lot from that over the last three years, more than I can express. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Mike, a close friend who is always there for me and
provided lots of support, especially this past winter. Mike was there, along
with Scott, Ron, Joao, Michael and others, at the time of “the January event”.
Mike’s willingness to immediately care and help, and his continued
encouragement and friendship have made him one of my dearest friends.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">So many other friends - Dan and Paddie, Michael and
Janel, Maggie, who just before the climb got to wish me good luck live and in
person, after not seeing them for so long! They were instrumental to me falling
in love with mountains. Karen, who loves to discuss and analyze process with
me, and who will no doubt be happy (?) to explore the whole thing in more detail
with me. Josée, who has an ability to remind me that it’s ok to keep pushing
the boundaries. Jeff, who drove me many places this winter, and always made
sure I had everything I needed – most importantly, a ski trip to go on even
when I had to cancel the other trip. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">…And everyone else who provided encouragement in
person, by text, via Facebook…. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">I make all this sound as if I’d just climbed Everest
or conquered a new continent or won an Oscar. Of course not. Thousands of
people summit Mount Rainier every year. And all of you reading this have a long
list of accomplishments equally worthy of kudos, and thank-yous to people who
helped you along the way. But Here and Now, I wanted to express my gratitude to
all of you who have played a role in getting me to this point in my life, where
I conquered not a mountain, but my self-doubts, my fears, my laziness. The
mountain is just a metaphor. Upward and onward, and back down safely – it’s the
only way to go, and I couldn’t do it without you. Thank you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #353535; font-family: "helvetica"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">I’ll leave you with this quote that Craig Van Hoy read
us over dinner, after our climb. It says it best.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br></div>
<h1 style="background: white; line-height: 15.75pt; margin-bottom: 11.25pt; margin-left: 42.5pt; margin-right: 70.85pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">“You
cannot stay on the summit forever; you have to come down again. So why bother
in the first place? Just this: What is above knows what is below, but what is
below does not know what is above. One climbs, one sees. One descends, one sees
no longer, but one has seen. There is an art of conducting oneself in the lower
regions by the memory of what one saw higher up. When one can no longer see,
one can at least still know.”</span></h1>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.5pt; margin-right: 70.85pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 10.5pt;">
<span style="background: white;">―<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span><span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3020747.Ren_Daumal">René Daumal</a></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><br>
<br>
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HSBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14777671812338203740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3714710739320616201.post-13475713084080170442015-07-12T13:23:00.001-07:002015-07-12T14:01:16.510-07:00Mount Rainier 2015<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I left it all out there. That’s all I can say. I tried, I pushed through, I dug as deep as I could, and I still came up short. It’s frustrating, and it leaves a bittersweet taste in my mouth. But for now, that’s all I’ve got. It’ll be fine, it’s not the end of the world, and I’ll get to try again next year. I’m ok with that, but I wish I didn’t have to answer the inevitable question, “Did you summit?” Because, “no, I didn’t”, for the second year in a row, is an aggravating answer.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Last year, I had to
admit that I had not trained sufficiently, and in the end, I had to turn around at the top of Mount
Rainier’s Disappointment Cleaver, at about 12,000 feet of altitude, 2,400
vertical feet and still many hours from the summit. Nonetheless, I had a
wonderful time, an amazing experience, met some great people, and used all that
to set things up better for another attempt this year. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I felt ready this
time. I trained hard, I felt positive about the climb, I was looking forward to
it, I visualized it, I updated some of my gear, I packed smarter. I strained a
calf muscle a mere two weeks before the climb while training at the gym; I did
everything I could to treat that injury and give myself the best chance
possible. It worked; the calf was pain-free at the start of the climb. I – was
– ready.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2kQnHZcTPRsqYJIykFnk-pz-1mgT0jNFXHnlXjhOIUWlgTjteSzZkk2Vu70gLmbnYMqt1XHGsL5uWa08rIOvoDwOM5STGKkD6tmtwWUe3CMniLEevhiYnf1O1vo8As99bE_yNNXeMbHlr/s1600/20150629_114222.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2kQnHZcTPRsqYJIykFnk-pz-1mgT0jNFXHnlXjhOIUWlgTjteSzZkk2Vu70gLmbnYMqt1XHGsL5uWa08rIOvoDwOM5STGKkD6tmtwWUe3CMniLEevhiYnf1O1vo8As99bE_yNNXeMbHlr/s320/20150629_114222.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">With Rachel sightseeing in Vancouver</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I flew to Vancouver a
few days before the climb, and visited my friend Rachel, who moved there last
December. We had a lovely time together, and I discovered what might have just
become my favourite Canadian city. I took the train to Seattle a couple of days
later, enjoying the journey through the Cascades and the Pacific North West.
Upon arriving in Seattle, I immediately caught the ferry to Bainbridge Island,
where I visited with my friends Dan and Paddie. As always, our time together
was special, and I greatly cherish their friendship. My love of hiking and
trekking and mountains, and of Nepal, Kilimanjaro, Machu Picchu, all really
started with that memorable trip to Nepal that Dan organized back in 2002.
Thirteen years later, I’m on my second attempt on Mount Rainier, right in Dan’s
backyard. I blame Dan for all that, but it’s with a big grin on my face, and
especially, a big “Thank you!”.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL1ltADC_aD6spPvSLzfe4bkkpDVThLspwpXzF32UtmsQ86KL_00WvymNlN24v5pTLUmirG3L6KOXUOaIF-OKNldzmeycP2I3gWYRQ269WogNA2bGMBfdvVRY8G7qfqePLf5sjf-vigJbz/s1600/IMG_0017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL1ltADC_aD6spPvSLzfe4bkkpDVThLspwpXzF32UtmsQ86KL_00WvymNlN24v5pTLUmirG3L6KOXUOaIF-OKNldzmeycP2I3gWYRQ269WogNA2bGMBfdvVRY8G7qfqePLf5sjf-vigJbz/s320/IMG_0017.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">With Dan on Bainbridge Island</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On Wednesday, I took
the ferry back to Seattle, and attended the mandatory Gear Check at Alpine
Ascents International. Familiar with the routine, I had most of my equipment,
clothing and other gear ready. At the end of gear check, managed very effectively
by guide Eric Salazar, I was confident that I had all that I would need, and
only what I would need. The weight of my pack was well within the range I had trained
with for the last several months. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Gear Check was also the
first time we met our fellow climbers. This time, it would be me, plus seven
guys. Being the only woman in a group of guys can sometimes be intimidating,
especially in an athletic endeavour where I fear being the slower, weaker
female pseudo-athlete. But, after a few climbs with (mostly) men, and
especially, after three years of cycling with the boys of the Morning Glory
Cycling Club, I should know better: I have never been made to feel like the
weakest link by the guys. Just the opposite, I always get a lot of support and
encouragement from them. All that to say, at Gear Check, when I met my fellow
climbers, I wasn’t intimidated, and appreciated immediately how friendly
everyone was. Right away, we were a team, and we followed Gear Check with a
group dinner during which we shared our excitement and trepidations about the
challenge ahead.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At 6am the next
morning, all of us were back at Alpine Ascents, ready to head out to Ashford to
meet the rest of our guides, and then on to Mount Rainier. Guide Eric Salazar
(“Salz”) was to meet us in Ashford, as was lead guide Devin Bishop. Our other
two guides, Stephen Williams and Pasang Lhamu Sherpa, drove with us from
Seattle.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A quick word about our
guides: this was my third climb with Alpine Ascents International (AAI) since
2004. I have been impressed with every guide I have had the pleasure of
climbing with, and have learned valuable things from every one of them. They
are great company, excellent cooks, and demonstrate an unrelenting work ethic,
commitment to customer service, and above all else, an absolutely unwavering
focus on safety. Mount Rainier is no joke, even the “easy” 3-day Muir route.
Their attention to detail and uncompromising attitude towards safety, 24 x 7,
are two qualities that cannot be undervalued.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was very excited to
have Pasang as one of our guides this year. A young Nepali woman from the
Khumbu area, she is a smart, talented and hard working athlete, who has
completed successful climbs of both Mount Everest and K2 (Pakistan). K2 is
known as the most difficult and dangerous mountain in the world (“the savage mountain”),
and Pasang climbed it in 2014 as part of the first all-female climbing team to
reach its summit. It turns out, she’s not only an exceptional climber, she is
also a great person, friendly and always smiling, and willing to share her
skills and knowledge with the rest of us.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXwi6usRVR5rMPcVjl_RCsAnRTYrvqBTBwegyh8aNXKxl9ecLHdjoF9xarZtRV0JrK4ftbqpK3fyyd2s3kifsAjTSO7-jv7cuZ4XMn7a5JoemCvMZuRTg4K6-M0vQ6ydxLtLvCpFe9udZo/s1600/IMG_4102.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXwi6usRVR5rMPcVjl_RCsAnRTYrvqBTBwegyh8aNXKxl9ecLHdjoF9xarZtRV0JrK4ftbqpK3fyyd2s3kifsAjTSO7-jv7cuZ4XMn7a5JoemCvMZuRTg4K6-M0vQ6ydxLtLvCpFe9udZo/s320/IMG_4102.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pasang Lhamu Sherpa: a bright star </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">in her</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> country of Nepal and in the mountaineering world</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lead guide Devin is
the kind of guy who takes no prisoners: direct, clear and uncompromising, he
made a point of trying to instil the fear of God (in this case, of the god of
big bad mountains) in us prior to our summit bid. The thing is, if any of the
clients leave for the summit with less than a 100% commitment to climbing
safely, that person will put the rest of the group at risk, and that’s
unacceptable. Devin made sure we were tackling the challenge with our eyes wide
open.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Salz provided good
cheer throughout the expedition. Salz packs a tremendous amount of strength and
a very high power-to-weight ratio on his comparatively smaller frame. His
cheerful personality, quick smile, funny stories, frequent banter with Devin,
and tasty burritos made him fun to have on the expedition. His experience and
skills made him a great asset to our team.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Stephen, the “strong,
quiet type”, seemed to observe carefully everything going on around him. Quick
with a smile, he would end up being my personal guide later on in the climb.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeBNpOIX1NO_cSfwIu8bNg6ixgzql1zXoW4YUnwIzAW9SSMCc7tPYjcuusTo-piSWHKnMryAO_zCIQmglDiRN_tSncebzFRDXOInPm39HHlwKndqEEMoUUGuBDKmzn2bogphp7cu-eVzkv/s1600/IMG_0062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeBNpOIX1NO_cSfwIu8bNg6ixgzql1zXoW4YUnwIzAW9SSMCc7tPYjcuusTo-piSWHKnMryAO_zCIQmglDiRN_tSncebzFRDXOInPm39HHlwKndqEEMoUUGuBDKmzn2bogphp7cu-eVzkv/s200/IMG_0062.JPG" width="150" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Stephen, who accompanied </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">me on the way down to camp</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The start of the
climb, from the Paradise parking lot on the south side of the mountain, was
drastically different than last year. With no snow at lower elevations this
year, we started walking on paved hiking trails, in bright sunshine and 80F
temperatures, surrounded by tourists and day-hikers ogling us as we carried our
full packs and walked as a tight group of 12 people. Soon, as we made our way
up through beautiful fields of wildflowers, we approached Pebble Creek, and
changed into our climbing boots before heading onto the Muir Snowfield. Up into
the corn snow we went, getting used to the slightly steeper terrain and practicing
our “rest step” to get into the rhythm of a steady pace, with all members of
the team climbing in unison. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjia23Xq2KfzhutF_hE62_CgEz3iDNPb49AuhZl2sUURduQMSJl6hx6M55JhtoPOm8JL0lsnbA4ivDCvKCpm-_zy9TvoPf7uNWnaltp79IIRzWTh6f6g22uww9xnki-qFj-T0mfxCx7vL9K/s1600/IMG_0026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjia23Xq2KfzhutF_hE62_CgEz3iDNPb49AuhZl2sUURduQMSJl6hx6M55JhtoPOm8JL0lsnbA4ivDCvKCpm-_zy9TvoPf7uNWnaltp79IIRzWTh6f6g22uww9xnki-qFj-T0mfxCx7vL9K/s200/IMG_0026.JPG" width="200" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Hiking up through the meadows</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A couple of our team
members were suffering. Jason, a “strapping young lad” who looked fit as a
fiddle, was hurting badly. He had cramps in his quads and his calves, all at
once. Legs seizing up, he struggled to stay with the group and eventually
lagged behind with one of the guides accompanying him. Fortunately, there would
be an easy solution to Jason’s problem: he loosened his boots, got the blood to
flow back into his legs better, and by the next morning, he was back to his
normal self. What a relief… <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjF9dCAjdsZ_y543GmBtHrnL-rsbTh0rd0WQc_3qqVEkEQBEkQVGvc80EeYcofN5nDUMoiLhIMZlGa4jNC4xqStbvnqdn3T_tvW6zvi4XfpK5aZaLBw13_DsQzrY7qjUIWfulLMTwH2izN/s1600/IMG_0124.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjF9dCAjdsZ_y543GmBtHrnL-rsbTh0rd0WQc_3qqVEkEQBEkQVGvc80EeYcofN5nDUMoiLhIMZlGa4jNC4xqStbvnqdn3T_tvW6zvi4XfpK5aZaLBw13_DsQzrY7qjUIWfulLMTwH2izN/s200/IMG_0124.JPG" width="200" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Jason grabbing some water at our</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"> first break at Pebble Creek, on Day 1</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Young Mason, one half
of the father-son duo from Orlando, FL, suffered the entire first day from an
upset stomach, most likely the result of our Tex-Mex meal the night before,
maybe compounded by the normal anxiety that comes with a first experience in
the mountains. At 17, Mason is an exceptionally bright young man, headed to college
in the fall, and he and his Dad Mel were having one last father-son adventure
before Mason goes off to school. Needless to say, we were all cheering for
Mason, and his perseverance getting to Camp Muir after a tough 5-hour hike
impressed all of us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQGnHjM28n_1195c09cMEgj22ew0dMRAXgC6mTVXVwMJkvo79T-LJNqTbXS6vnnNlTwTohb-AQJLExTYOtexArR1wqTh7ToDFk9AcXWWuPvXfJyKK2smwx5xssi3o-2bxzhyThpNz8XFH_/s1600/IMG_0150.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="137" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQGnHjM28n_1195c09cMEgj22ew0dMRAXgC6mTVXVwMJkvo79T-LJNqTbXS6vnnNlTwTohb-AQJLExTYOtexArR1wqTh7ToDFk9AcXWWuPvXfJyKK2smwx5xssi3o-2bxzhyThpNz8XFH_/s640/IMG_0150.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Panorama shot at Camp Muir, at sunset</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After we unpacked our
gear in Alpine Ascents’ “Gombu” hut – a small wooden structure with sleeping
platforms to accommodate eight people and their gear – we had a very tasty meal
of hearty burritos (mercifully, without beans…) in Alpine Ascents’ “weather
port” tent a couple of hundred yards away from the Gombu. Our first up-close
look at the upper part of the mountain revealed a rockier mountain than last
year, with a thinner mantle of snow, but still resplendent in the glow of the
setting sun against the kind of cloudless and clear sky that one only sees at
altitude.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span>
<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT44ALugaSFSc71wtSiF-w0E6MfYtMUM5whrP5vFRlWJ7w7_0Zz95r5BvgRJlPZHQNfdd6l0vwiwy1PFl0BNiztPoId38NJYN3zyWTCL17-0xsmDRmlrYzkXusHLpIscicLhbNK0VMMTKV/s1600/IMG_0046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT44ALugaSFSc71wtSiF-w0E6MfYtMUM5whrP5vFRlWJ7w7_0Zz95r5BvgRJlPZHQNfdd6l0vwiwy1PFl0BNiztPoId38NJYN3zyWTCL17-0xsmDRmlrYzkXusHLpIscicLhbNK0VMMTKV/s400/IMG_0046.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Peace and quiet at sunset</span><br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOr7ogIMqBNxnTQFcRoDEX6Kv-2dQxt1GPBev0DhLWAIMsRweKJ4DKDChmG1vg30Zbc1oXnA8OxV123Oh5rPBKl4HCohthW4U_GT6C6_1rxqZceFX1Ta-Nky6c3g8oUESsTmScrzbCHYBS/s1600/IMG_4069.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOr7ogIMqBNxnTQFcRoDEX6Kv-2dQxt1GPBev0DhLWAIMsRweKJ4DKDChmG1vg30Zbc1oXnA8OxV123Oh5rPBKl4HCohthW4U_GT6C6_1rxqZceFX1Ta-Nky6c3g8oUESsTmScrzbCHYBS/s320/IMG_4069.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Sunset on Mount Adams, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">with a glimpse of Mount Hood in the distance</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As the sun set, it
alternately bathed in orange and purple shades the flanks of Mount Adams,
before shifting its attention to Mount Hood in the far distance of Oregon, then
briefly illuminated the broken sides of Mount St. Helens, before once more
returning its alpenglow to Mount Adams. I stood there, in the quiet of the
early evening, chatting with my fellow climber Ron. We were shooting the
breeze, talking about life, admiring the scene, and both felt the calm of the
mountain as we contemplated the next day’s hard work.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After a somewhat
restless night – eight people lying side-by-side in two rows of four, in a hut
much too hot and noisy for any deep sleep to be possible – we started our day
at 5am, getting up, using the facilities, packing our heavy bags once again,
and taking a moment or two to breathe in the fresh air of a mountain morning as
the sun slowly swapped places with the moon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Our 6am breakfast in
the weather port tent was an impressive affair: crisp bacon, scrambled eggs,
and amazingly delicious blueberry pancakes, with a healthy serving of piping
hot French press coffee, all prepared expertly by Stephen, Devin, and Pasang,
while Salz (who had served us burritos the night before) got to enjoy breakfast
with us. All of us clients were feeling great – other than poor Mason, who had
had a bit of a rough night and was still recovering. The rest of our group,
Leo, Jason, Cameron, Brad, Ron, Mel, and myself, were all feeling chipper and
energized despite the lack of deep sleep. The sun was shining bright in a sky that
was an amazing shade of deep blue in the rarefied atmosphere.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC4WttQt6JYyfd-E4uCmrth5oh9gz1oWuGRg5OJYxDIG489kB-4WbyYdxcfw0FN7IEfMiScHgMFG8z7RkKaOyxeHAU_GglnA-hjV_boKsEq1KdTXQXPCbCcbfXhMmHXHX-I9yw994pdTr_/s1600/IMG_0153.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC4WttQt6JYyfd-E4uCmrth5oh9gz1oWuGRg5OJYxDIG489kB-4WbyYdxcfw0FN7IEfMiScHgMFG8z7RkKaOyxeHAU_GglnA-hjV_boKsEq1KdTXQXPCbCcbfXhMmHXHX-I9yw994pdTr_/s320/IMG_0153.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Pasang demonstrating her pancake-flipping skills!</span><br />
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At 7:30am, snow school
opened for business. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Devin started the lessons with teaching us a number of
techniques for walking efficiently on steep snow, with crampons. Walking uphill
for hours with feet pointing straight is not advisable: calf muscles will seize
or cramp, quads will eventually fail, hips will grow weak, and the mind will
want to quit. Mountaineers use various steps – the duck step, the “one foot
straight, one foot pointing out” (half duck step…?), and the most effective to
make steady sustainable progress, the crossover step. With crampons on, all
these require practice. Up on the flanks of Rainier, snagging a crampon or
stumbling is not safe. Down here, at Camp Muir, on the placid expanse of snow
just outside the weather port, we got to practice, stumble a bit if we must, got
a feel for what it is like to snag a crampon, and learned to go up as
efficiently as possible. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhevv4NxPm7wuUzanjd9zBvgrbilVuqhz5-K975vr49HVL3cpIxIWHau6Z9AaaK_gW8UC6TgwWdZjUqs_ko07BsN7t2xv-yC8S5DHuqOg5EEI5fEiK0snHNg2_sM7AFAvsqatG1XunXFWWX/s1600/IMG_0128.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhevv4NxPm7wuUzanjd9zBvgrbilVuqhz5-K975vr49HVL3cpIxIWHau6Z9AaaK_gW8UC6TgwWdZjUqs_ko07BsN7t2xv-yC8S5DHuqOg5EEI5fEiK0snHNg2_sM7AFAvsqatG1XunXFWWX/s320/IMG_0128.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Devin talking about snow-walking techniques</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Going down is straightforward. I mean, literally, it
is straight forward: feet pointing down straight, with all twelve crampons planted
firmly on the surface. On a moderate slope, no problem. On steep ground, it can
be intimidating, and uncomfortable for the ankles. So we practiced that as
well. Then we learned how to carry and use our ice axe, and practiced a few
self-arrests, by throwing ourselves on the ground and holding and planting the
ice axe in a specific way. Since the snow was soft, there was little
opportunity to truly slide and self-arrest. But the snow on our climb higher up
would likely also be soft, so the risk of slipping down an icy slope was low to
non-existent (not much surface ice when the temperatures did not go below
freezing). Nonetheless, falling was still a bad idea. Self-arrest is a last
resort: the first rule is, don’t fall…<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLiLY68TYJgMMzNbtUo-bKtJRCuGdxjuHVVOAN-nlahivGjVZNzImBqmpmtmTTa51xXwopBZImir0pHn4CJGltgJzGrBOdpYhKxz8xKKqUY-0dpvAdMT8QwM8RNpk3ITBdc_ajXqY1XhKI/s1600/IMG_0038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLiLY68TYJgMMzNbtUo-bKtJRCuGdxjuHVVOAN-nlahivGjVZNzImBqmpmtmTTa51xXwopBZImir0pHn4CJGltgJzGrBOdpYhKxz8xKKqUY-0dpvAdMT8QwM8RNpk3ITBdc_ajXqY1XhKI/s320/IMG_0038.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Wrapping up snow school - time to head up!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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</tbody></table>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After putting on our
harness and clipping into our respective ropes – four ropes of one guide and
two clients each – we left Camp Muir around 10:30am, in the direction of
Cathedral Gap and Alpine Ascents’ High Camp on the Ingraham Flats. The climb
went through a relatively gentle slope on a snow track, in an area of rock fall
(“don’t stop here and move fast!”), followed by a steeper slope, where we got
acquainted with the joy of climbing on rocks with crampons. Generally not fun,
but safer than having all clients remove crampons, then put them back on, in
areas potentially subject to rock fall in the middle of the day.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj25YMgY1Ft344gOFoPTgEuaUJV5QJ2AFuTDbMCz4IGUMXO0kuZwKMzjwwMfjov0wD1SKboPFcXg3zyrcTlirieFA1xrub6OZKoTtsU7lP1QSQH1dS-86gqFm5yowe_KkfTYhOFItym34f0/s1600/IMG_4050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj25YMgY1Ft344gOFoPTgEuaUJV5QJ2AFuTDbMCz4IGUMXO0kuZwKMzjwwMfjov0wD1SKboPFcXg3zyrcTlirieFA1xrub6OZKoTtsU7lP1QSQH1dS-86gqFm5yowe_KkfTYhOFItym34f0/s200/IMG_4050.JPG" width="200" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Happiness is being on a mountain!</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6nsMfaBg4rBYR3K5CdC111X7ahf5r_LdNHR-UxrnIqu9ce08KpHN2wE9nSJDitegIjidKf4OKoRIVvaFz5e1siRC8L3oO-FPqnqub-dCjB5IyRnvADxbIOrMoE2egc6NPln-bp75bQ2uz/s1600/IMG_0027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6nsMfaBg4rBYR3K5CdC111X7ahf5r_LdNHR-UxrnIqu9ce08KpHN2wE9nSJDitegIjidKf4OKoRIVvaFz5e1siRC8L3oO-FPqnqub-dCjB5IyRnvADxbIOrMoE2egc6NPln-bp75bQ2uz/s320/IMG_0027.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Less snow, more rock, this year</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After just 1:15 hours
of climbing, we arrived at High Camp at approximately 11,200 feet: one of my
favourite places on the planet… A cluster of seven tents pitched close to one
another, on a wide expansive flat glacier perfectly located above a rocky peak
called “Little Tahoma”, and with a perfect view of Mount Baker and Canada in
the distant north, and the rest of Washington State to the east. Far above
camp, the jumble of the broken ice falls and gaping crevasses provides an
incredibly dramatic backdrop and a stark reminder of the seriousness of Mount
Rainier. </span><br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjT8D26vsjLTQt4D8hmNHO2W6JmgBIMMjFtIhDYXdODYeegNAR84lXziESubsiZiAp0pFLUUeKJa6A73_hEtszr-_sYVAfhKwRB6klHyvYj_5cKB2AGmUFPoIOztI8DTwE0-PAoxQEhr8q/s1600/IMG_0063.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjT8D26vsjLTQt4D8hmNHO2W6JmgBIMMjFtIhDYXdODYeegNAR84lXziESubsiZiAp0pFLUUeKJa6A73_hEtszr-_sYVAfhKwRB6klHyvYj_5cKB2AGmUFPoIOztI8DTwE0-PAoxQEhr8q/s320/IMG_0063.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">It is awesome and mesmerizing...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At roughly half the altitude of Mount Everest, Mount Rainier (14,411
feet) is still a big mountain, in every way possible: terrain, weather, and
objective danger. It also offers superlative views and breathtaking scenery. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So
impressive is the setting at High Camp that it is a full-body experience: the
air was still as we reached camp, there was no wind. The silence, unless broken
by our voices and noises, was nearly deafening; the occasional sound of distant
rock fall was shocking and intrusive. The contrast of the heat from the sun
radiating off the snow, with the delicious coolness of the ambient air, was
just enough to keep us from feeling uncomfortably warm.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoRAuld7pDWuTFVSK3R4hI7ZnpAM4D5p42vsm6yVLOOgzdIAPBtNHUtyeVUeck2eE-tUd0eZRZh2vgAQiZ43vjttodlCoaPS0XlQ1BTRP05DBOeKE2UyshXyA_ZXFct3AS4vM4DQK4yU_i/s1600/IMG_0162.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoRAuld7pDWuTFVSK3R4hI7ZnpAM4D5p42vsm6yVLOOgzdIAPBtNHUtyeVUeck2eE-tUd0eZRZh2vgAQiZ43vjttodlCoaPS0XlQ1BTRP05DBOeKE2UyshXyA_ZXFct3AS4vM4DQK4yU_i/s320/IMG_0162.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Little Tahoma, from High Camp</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We settled into our
tents (I shared one with Leo, a Peruvian software engineer who has lived and
worked in Silicon Valley for 30 years, and who has climbed a few big mountains
along the way), and tried to rest. We had been instructed on what and how to
pack for our summit push. After a late lunch of hearty chicken soup (Stephen’s
recipe this time), our job was to finish packing our summit bag (food, water,
layers), and then, rest. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hard to sleep. </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After all, it was 5pm, the sun was
still high in the sky, and the mind was wandering. I knew what the first part
of the climb was like – I did it just a year ago. I was calm and confident, but
still, sleep did not come easily. I listened to an audiobook, and periodically
dozed off, before waking up and trying to find the last sentence of the book
that I remembered hearing before dozing off. </span><br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtBAQQT5pE4CcRaKZLws79mnEWWTuhMsJOWPrM88JU-RFqI-16YJ6chHCotco2XlBqv9dxhYhXWNRAheKmbeBUoflUkjCKZr9dAEkk3fXVcChnwV7z575jMgVgl6iMjJJz00f-9mWkTPuO/s1600/IMG_4085.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtBAQQT5pE4CcRaKZLws79mnEWWTuhMsJOWPrM88JU-RFqI-16YJ6chHCotco2XlBqv9dxhYhXWNRAheKmbeBUoflUkjCKZr9dAEkk3fXVcChnwV7z575jMgVgl6iMjJJz00f-9mWkTPuO/s320/IMG_4085.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Resting in the tent. Getting close to "go" time.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thus we spent a few
hours of rest, before our 9:45pm wake-up call by the guides. One more meal
before heading up to the summit. “Breakfast” at 10:15pm consisted of instant
oatmeal with a dab of peanut butter melted into it, and a bit of coffee. I
finished packing my bag, checking and rechecking everything. I paid one last
visit to the snow fort (my name for the snow wall that served as a privacy
screen for the most scenic high-altitude squatting spot). Then it was time to
secure the harness, make sure the avalanche beacon was on, put on crampons, and
tie into a rope. Once more, I tied into Devin’s rope, with Jason in the middle
between Devin and me. Mel and Mason having stayed in camp, we only had three
ropes of climbers.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We started up from
High Camp at 11:15pm. Due to the abnormally warm weather up on Mount Rainier,
maximizing our time climbing in the dark ensured we would benefit from the
firmest snow conditions for the longest time possible. As soon as the sun would
start hitting the snow in the morning, the snow would soften, become more
difficult to walk on, and more importantly, the risk of rock fall would
increase significantly. Besides, walking in the coolness of the night (the
temperature was well above freezing) was more comfortable for us than walking
in the hot sun. We aimed to reach the summit rim by 6am (and the actual summit
before 7am). Devin was clear that if we didn’t reach the rim by 6am, we would
turn around no matter where we were on the mountain, for safety’s sake.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Within 10 minutes of
leaving camp, our rope, which was first in the procession, reached a “ladder
bridge” across a crevasse. A regular ladder laid horizontally across a
crevasse, with a wooden plank on which to walk, spanned a gap of about 5 feet.
Looking straight across to where I was going, as opposed to straight <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">down</i> into the abyss, made the crossing
easy. A few minutes later, another ladder, with the same scenario: with
confident steps, the ladder bridge was crossed in a just a few seconds. We
continued to the base of Disappointment Cleaver, a long and fairly steep rocky
ridge that marks the beginning of the difficult part of the climb. Devin got a
call on the radio that one rope (Stephen’s, with Cameron and Leo) was heading
back to camp, after Leo realized he was not comfortable crossing the ladder
bridges, and decided to turn back. Everyone faces their own internal challenges
on mountain climbs – some struggle on the lower slopes, some on the upper
elevations, some struggle to conquer a specific fear, and others manage to pull
it all together… <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The rest of us climbed
to “the Nose”, a part of the Cleaver where we could take an unexpected break in
safety, while waiting for Stephen and Cameron to come back and rejoin us.
Fortunately, they did not have a great distance to cover, and within 15-20
minutes, were with us again. The ascent of the Cleaver resumed in earnest. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After<span lang="EN-US"> the first hour (about 5 minutes from taking a break at the top of the
Cleaver), I started feeling… not-quite-right. The rest of this account may
contain “too much information”, but if anyone asks me “what happened?”, well,
this is it…<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I felt a sudden and strong need to have a bowel
movement – something absolutely impossible at that moment, as I was roped up,
following a steady pace, and was wearing a harness and backpack, all while
climbing a rocky hill on crampons. I tried to ignore the pressing need, but soon
felt my stomach becoming upset. This was a familiar sequence of events – I went
through the same thing last year… Except this time, a few minutes later (just
before our scheduled break), after a quick warning to Devin and Jason, I
stopped to throw up on the side of the track. The relief was instant and I
predictably felt much better. With our next break just a few minutes away, I
got going again, and reached the top of Disappointment Cleaver, feeling
somewhat decent. I now had about 10 minutes to put on an extra layer, drink
some water and eat some food while sitting on my pack, before we got going
again. I was able to drink, and had a few bites, but admittedly did not have
much of an appetite.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US">Last year, at the same spot, I decided to turn around,
knowing I didn't have it in me to make all the way after I’d felt the same kind
of “digestive distress”. This year, however, I pushed through and kept going. </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For the next hour or so, the terrain was
intermittently easier, and at other times harder. We were off the rocks and
onto a narrow snow track, with a few ladder bridges and fixed ropes along the
way. It was still dark and hard to get a view of the “big picture”, but it was
still magnificent and awe-inspiring. Not scary. It required focus and
attention, but there was no fear involved.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I felt fine on the steady, "easier" (less
steep) terrain, and I could manage to maintain the right pace (12-15 vertical
feet per minute). When I came to the occasional obstacle, like a big step to
take, or a more difficult short section, my heart rate would spike, and I
struggled to recover after. I could feel my insides acting up again. Once more,
about another hour into this part of the climb and just before our second break
(about 2:15-2:30am by then), I threw up. There wasn't much to bring up at that
point, and while I felt "better" after, I also felt quite depleted.
But I kept going to the break.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sitting on my pack trying to recover and drink some
water, I chatted with Devin and Stephen. We all agreed that I should go on a
different rope alone with Stephen, which would allow Devin, Jason and Cameron
(who would trade ropes with me) to keep going at their pace, and me to go at a
slightly slower pace (slowing or stopping when roped with others is a no-no -
you've GOT to keep pace... there is no "getting dropped"). So I roped
up alone with Stephen, took a longer break and watched all my companions head
up towards the summit, now only about 2:15 hours away. I decided I could still
go forward and told Stephen I wanted to keep going up. However, at this last
break, I could barely get water down. I tried eating a gel, and could hardly
ingest any of it. So, I started up at 13,000 feet, with zero calories in me...
at that point, the outcome was obvious, but I was still determined to keep
trying.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We went up for about 15 minutes. We were now on the
approach to the summit rim: a long series of switchbacks, but with the end in
sight. The summit was another hour after that. Fifteen minutes after getting
started again, I was dry-heaving, bringing up absolutely nothing, but wracked
with stomach spasms. I finally caught my breath, and told Stephen, "Ok,
this is it... this is now becoming stupid, it's time to call it and head
down". <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I felt pretty frustrated and upset, but I also knew I
had pushed myself to the maximum and I had – literally - left it all out
there... Stephen said, "If you keep going another 150 vertical feet up,
you'll exceed the height of Grand Teton... do you want to try that?" It
was too tempting, so I said, "oh, why not. Let's give it another
try". <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was actually thinking, if I can make it those 150 feet,
maybe I can keep going up another 150 feet after that, and go all the way to the
summit while aiming for these short goals over and over again. I walked 30
steps, and once again, got really violently wracked with dry-heaves. There was
nothing left, but it still took a few minutes to catch my breath again. And
then that was it. There was no fighting it anymore. It was time to head down.
With one last, forlorn look uphill, I turned around and took the first step
back towards camp. I was at about 13,640 feet, roughly 800 feet short of the
summit, and approximately 1,640 feet higher than last year’s high point. Close,
but no summit.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mountain climbing is not all about going uphill; it is
mainly about coming back down safely after going up. Because I was so depleted,
I (and Stephen) knew I had to be extra-careful going downhill to avoid stumbling
or tripping. I also knew we needed to descend fast, to avoid staying on the
mountain long after the sun started warming up the snow. It was still dark, but
a faint line of colour was starting to tinge the horizon in the east.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Despite my lack of energy, I made it a point of pride
to not slip or hesitate, and maintain a strong confident and steady pace all
the way down, and it worked. Stephen never had to tell me to accelerate. The
sun was coming up, and the scenery in front of me unfolded in spectacular
glory, with shark-fin shaped seracs perched high above deep crevasses, and the
rising sun shining through thin gaps between edifices of snow and ice in the
distance. Breath-taking.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0XTHl40DtfyClurkGF6_bizAinAlIxGru7XYlHEpUuE06vnuN-FkUApJNBI2aVKhoV8ZqgsBOVAPiEdlTICHlxMPcJDDA_qq6t9bn1ZFNyhi29QU5_rEbIV7FBorwlzkqlvl99IHEAB3E/s1600/IMG_0061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0XTHl40DtfyClurkGF6_bizAinAlIxGru7XYlHEpUuE06vnuN-FkUApJNBI2aVKhoV8ZqgsBOVAPiEdlTICHlxMPcJDDA_qq6t9bn1ZFNyhi29QU5_rEbIV7FBorwlzkqlvl99IHEAB3E/s320/IMG_0061.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">The sun rising as we make our way down </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9TaKd3vDedOHb6qjUClQUAWIOagmdyejs5MINGkKKnqJpRvuLGJ5cuva9XsZtNfy2x9prHXPETnOmeoyx5JuW3ij1GwRJAxP5ca3l9g8-8Fzmk15F2Kz64lANhh2JYpypr2x1ibEam4_R/s1600/IMG_0067.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9TaKd3vDedOHb6qjUClQUAWIOagmdyejs5MINGkKKnqJpRvuLGJ5cuva9XsZtNfy2x9prHXPETnOmeoyx5JuW3ij1GwRJAxP5ca3l9g8-8Fzmk15F2Kz64lANhh2JYpypr2x1ibEam4_R/s320/IMG_0067.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">The sun rising as we descent Disappointment Cleaver</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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</tbody></table>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As we progressed, the temperature started rising as
well, and I felt increasingly more dehydrated. We stopped again at the top of
Disappointment Cleaver where it was safe and I was able to drink. The physical
effort descending was far less, and my stomach calmed down. I was thirsty and
able to keep water down, but I was not hungry in the least and therefore was
still not absorbing any calories.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Stephen and I got back to High Camp (12,000ft) by
7:15am or so, and Salz was waiting for me with a litre of hot water, which I gulped
down as quickly as I could to settle my stomach once and for all. I visited the
snow fort, and that helped too... After another hour, I was finally able to eat
some bites of apple and half an orange I had saved. The sweet juicy orange tasted
like heaven.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I got to rest for about an hour, catching up with Leo,
Mel, Mason and Salz, and then re-packed all my gear. The rest of our summit
party came back to camp around 8:45. There were heart-felt congratulations all around - accompanied by guides Pasang and Devin, climbers Jason, Ron, Brad, and Cameron reached the summit in style! </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We left High Camp at 9:30am. The way down to Camp Muir at 10,000 feet included some rocky sections but went well, and I was descending pretty fast with Pasang and
Cameron. After another quick break at Camp Muir, we started walking down
unroped in loose corn snow, from 10,000 foot, with our goal the parking lot at
5,000 foot. Lucky for us, we were able to slide on our butts several times (the
English name for that is borrowed from the French, “glissade”), saving us from
having to walk every step of the way. Plus – it was lot of fun, playing in the
snow like kids!<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ron, Pasang and I reached the parking lot first, about
10 minutes ahead of the next group - I was obviously feeling fine again by
then. I think I felt the need to prove to myself that I was not weak and was
not going to keep anyone waiting. Throughout the entire climb, up and down, my
legs were strong and never got sore. In the last couple of hours going
downhill, only my feet and toes were hurting from going downhill for so long,
but that seemed to afflict everyone, and it was completely normal. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was nice to clean up a bit and change into clothes
we had left behind for that purpose, and drive back to Ashford in an
air-conditioned van. Leaving the parking lot and throughout most of the drive,
I kept looking back at the top half of Mount Rainier, wishing the scenario had
been different this time.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That's it... I’m happy, ecstatic, I loved it, it was amazing, and I can’t wait to be on the mountain again. I’m pissed off, disappointed, upset, annoyed, and even a little embarrassed. The only thing I know for a fact: I'm going back next year. Not just because I do want to reach the summit, but because it is such an incredible life-affirming feeling, to be on that mountain... Next year, next year… In the meantime, back to training.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyzM7DBEYVmxk40sYYG-5heBLOdRQQMOA_W5Txcc2xmrEvIt3gDY9mBDPoyz_zdU2PKV0N6wqtj0Pz734iMDtOm48RIkGSNfMQfFrixO4g-HheMAYUAs5uDOOFQ7ZiirWt9QtHwFIzRm8-/s1600/IMG_0080.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyzM7DBEYVmxk40sYYG-5heBLOdRQQMOA_W5Txcc2xmrEvIt3gDY9mBDPoyz_zdU2PKV0N6wqtj0Pz734iMDtOm48RIkGSNfMQfFrixO4g-HheMAYUAs5uDOOFQ7ZiirWt9QtHwFIzRm8-/s320/IMG_0080.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Walking out... </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">-------------------------------------</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So... why do I think this happened again?</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I loved every minute of it – well, except for the actual
few minutes spent throwing up... I am disappointed that I didn't summit -
again. It is frustrating. I have been, since 2002, at much higher altitudes
many times, and have rarely felt the kind of “digestive distress” that has
afflicted me on Rainier twice. In hindsight, I’ve had minor issues (one quick
bout of nausea, but then completely fine) reaching 18,000 feet in Nepal, on the
summit bid of Kilimanjaro, also around 18,000 feet, and on Middle Teton last
summer at 12,000 feet (the theory below applies to that event as well). But
crossing high passes in Peru, Bolivia, in the 14-15,000 foot range, no issues…
So what’s the difference? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The “good news” with repeating a "scientific experiment" – or, in this case, a climb under comparable circumstances – is that a pattern
might emerge that can be used to identify and prove or disprove a theory. I
think I’ve identified a set of factors that I can now find ways to address. I’ll
head back to Mount Rainier next year, and will hope to have found the right
approach beforehand! <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyDvYy07u_h92ZPcsDzV3WSKkvkcoqVkA80xDENuMhJ1kOdxFhigAPlIeBmV4P_Vy1GLUH3bz1ha3j3-OLrd20vlx1mN4EJYSpjbEE0paMScUFPK48Z0L9yXYj9j8AnmhyJ9EQpmOUsjvx/s1600/IMG_4086.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyDvYy07u_h92ZPcsDzV3WSKkvkcoqVkA80xDENuMhJ1kOdxFhigAPlIeBmV4P_Vy1GLUH3bz1ha3j3-OLrd20vlx1mN4EJYSpjbEE0paMScUFPK48Z0L9yXYj9j8AnmhyJ9EQpmOUsjvx/s200/IMG_4086.JPG" width="150" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">A tent with a view: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Little Tahoma<span style="line-height: 16pt;"> </span></span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 16pt;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For those reading this who are still interested in
what I’ve identified so far, here it is: having a meal (even just a simple one)
just before starting a very hard effort, with a climbing harness and backpack
cinched very tightly around my waste (something that is required), means my
digestive system has to work very hard, while the rest of my body is also
working very hard to climb. Blood flow to the stomach (“splanchnic
circulation”) is in conflict with the need for blood to flow to my muscles to
propel me uphill. The effort to climb is intense and sustained, with little if
any chance of recovery. My heart rate during the climb was high but sustainable
(well within my training range), but occasional spikes became harder and harder
to recover from. </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The tightness of the harness and backpack around the waste is
not something I trained with as much – the backpack, yes, but not in
combination with the harness, and the avalanche beacon (slightly bigger than a deck of cards) which sat squarely
on my stomach. I can’t help but think that this surely impacted my ability to
digest while working hard, and probably contributed to gut distress and stomach
pain once the “cycle” started. Fitness is obviously a factor here. If I were
not always on the edge of red-lining (most of the guys around me didn't seem to
be), maybe this would not be a problem. I was fitter this year compared to last
year, by a lot - and I think this is what enabled me to keep pushing hard,
where last year I turned around earlier. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Altitude is only a secondary factor: the decrease in
oxygen does mean that I'm breathing harder and faster at effort on the mountain
than at sea level. Eventually, between the elevated heart rate and rapid
respiration, and the digestive system struggling to get enough blood flow and
oxygen itself, I end up with a “general system failure” where eventually, the
digestive system can't cope anymore. I’m not a doctor, and I have just started
researching this, but I believe my theory matches the signs and symptoms.</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The question is, can I train my digestive system to
cope with this kind of stress, OR is the answer in approaching nutrition and
caloric intake differently on the night of the summit bid? What kind of
additional interval training do I need to do to increase my fitness and avoid
being so close to the red-line for so long? I have a year to figure it out and
test approaches. </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgam5CBh1cOcrSJgGVdZI2ytoAoAgVCbhnqem-emjJpGL9pUZ9KHAJG2xbD_oCXuSueRQKslgBpJ3Ejol-jqogv0B06Ihl2L1O-8ZVdScpPTbTA-6SOLWf4DgbAuSPpe0BwveXdVdjqmboe/s1600/IMG_3920.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgam5CBh1cOcrSJgGVdZI2ytoAoAgVCbhnqem-emjJpGL9pUZ9KHAJG2xbD_oCXuSueRQKslgBpJ3Ejol-jqogv0B06Ihl2L1O-8ZVdScpPTbTA-6SOLWf4DgbAuSPpe0BwveXdVdjqmboe/s400/IMG_3920.JPG" width="300" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Magical Vancouver sunset</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Magical Vancouver sunrise :)</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0swSdDp-xxGL_ABGJJWXorS3Ck_zR9eZcFpJ5XdUMADTiDGjBKmsJGK7W5WV9xjcOG7AJSphx-ebto24l5LdTZAjUnAZ9GwCa-qmTujl5gj33_032mo1NyVssm2xlsjZ5PgxHcfiPHdSx/s1600/IMG_0111.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0swSdDp-xxGL_ABGJJWXorS3Ck_zR9eZcFpJ5XdUMADTiDGjBKmsJGK7W5WV9xjcOG7AJSphx-ebto24l5LdTZAjUnAZ9GwCa-qmTujl5gj33_032mo1NyVssm2xlsjZ5PgxHcfiPHdSx/s640/IMG_0111.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Panorama shot on the Bainbridge Island ferry</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrQ2eBhyphenhyphenLtG2I1rsvyfVzqERo9cd1b4AvtDpr_K3GTCyV-toVAbCgR-HM2eFsV8dZhIPrfk6bIOE_NI_RuMmAlmWW8wXlRvEKOSJOQXTMOTIOV2P4R7V9h_dXSzwkJ7_7yFSqgyJk06kd8/s1600/IMG_4014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrQ2eBhyphenhyphenLtG2I1rsvyfVzqERo9cd1b4AvtDpr_K3GTCyV-toVAbCgR-HM2eFsV8dZhIPrfk6bIOE_NI_RuMmAlmWW8wXlRvEKOSJOQXTMOTIOV2P4R7V9h_dXSzwkJ7_7yFSqgyJk06kd8/s320/IMG_4014.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">On the ferry to Bainbridge, with Mount Rainier in the distance</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Sunny and warm...</span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1UEgqGVfR_qqAZ5Kdft5TzGPjRvnKDoTnmVKlqo53u4mMNrvSrjtFqUmB2Hqeg4A4QiQCYHk1zdJl8XKXZGuct3rveBTmCI_iRWQBwpXJCTftYLne7Cbigg3-RCBiWlgiNqn2uKOfWCmY/s1600/IMG_4062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1UEgqGVfR_qqAZ5Kdft5TzGPjRvnKDoTnmVKlqo53u4mMNrvSrjtFqUmB2Hqeg4A4QiQCYHk1zdJl8XKXZGuct3rveBTmCI_iRWQBwpXJCTftYLne7Cbigg3-RCBiWlgiNqn2uKOfWCmY/s320/IMG_4062.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<o:p></o:p>HSBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14777671812338203740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3714710739320616201.post-52594274225475597782015-06-24T20:36:00.001-07:002015-06-24T21:00:05.246-07:00Mountains and Curveballs<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Ten years ago, I had plans to climb Mount Rainier (14,410 ft), near Seattle, via a fairly challenging route, and after a year of training very hard and getting into the best shape of my life, I was ready. Then, a week before my flight to Seattle, I injured my back badly, and had to cancel the trip at the very last minute. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Fast forward to 2014. I signed up for a slightly easier expedition to Rainier. Then I promptly stuck my head in the sand and, out of a puzzling mix of fear of doing, and fear of failing, did not train adequately or prepare very well. I went to Rainier, had a genuinely wonderful and amazing time, but I did not reach the summit. I knew I would have to go back.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And here we are, June 24, 2015. I fly out to the West Coast on Saturday, and after a few days hanging out with friends, will be heading to Rainier for a 3-day climb via the Muir route, from Thursday to Saturday. I trained for this. I got up at 4:45am most mornings this winter to get on my bike and train indoors with my friends at Real Deal Performance / Gears. I skinned up mountains in the Tetons during a week of backcountry skiing in March, in the company of my friend Peter who is a wise mountain guide and wiser human being. I added track cycling to the mix and outdoor riding in the spring, and joined a regular gym in April to round out my workouts with more structured resistance training and weight-bearing cardio workouts. I spent hours with a 45 lb-pack on an inclined treadmill, and then doing hill repeats at our local (small) ski hills. I switched to more hiking and less riding lately, in part to reduce the risk of an untimely crash on the bike. I'm not quite in the best shape of my life - I'm not disciplined enough yet, but I haven't been too much of a slouch either. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A week ago (2 weeks before the climb), while working out at the gym, I felt and heard a pop in my right calf, and all of a sudden, I couldn't put any weight on my right foot. Not my knee, not my bones, not my Achilles. But sharp, acute pain, and no weight-bearing ability. Ummm. Not good. Rest, ice, compression, elevation, anti-inflammatory, and 24 hours later, there was improvement. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Forty-eight hours later, I got to see my favourite healthcare professional, osteopath Katharine Liberatore, who quickly assessed the situation, provided treatment and relief, words of encouragement and an immediate referral to see her colleague for laser treatments. The next day, I was back to see Katharine and her colleague. Things were improving significantly already. It seemed that I had strained my gastrocnemius muscle - luckily, probably not torn, based on the rapid improvement. However, with less than two weeks before a major physical challenge which- ironically - demands more of your calf muscles than about any other activity I can think of (except maybe rock and ice climbing), I was still limping badly and felt pain walking on anything other than flat ground. I'll remind you that Mount Rainier is definitely not flat. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The very good personal trainer I work with at the gym (Giovanni) adjusted my workouts, which became entirely upper-body and core-focused over the past week, while my cardio work dropped down to slow-paced walks on a flat treadmill. To think, just 10 days ago, I did hill repeats for 4 hours at Blue Mountain while carrying 50 lbs. Two days ago, I did 30 minutes on the stationary bike with no resistance. But at least the leg didn't hurt doing that. And the leg hurts even less today than it did yesterday. The treatments are working and well worth it. The "human care" received from Katharine and her colleague is helping too. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Needless to say, though, that despite the relatively minor nature of the injury and rapid improvements I've seen so far, the timing sucks. And with a week to go before the climb starts, the mental aspect became even more significant. Last Tuesday when I got hurt, the thought immediately crossed my mind that the climb might be <i>kaput</i>. But I didn't dwell on that <i>too</i> too much and stayed positive. My buddy Jason and I traded texts and had a good chat - turns out, he knows a lot about being an injured athlete and was very understanding. Until Monday, I was focused mainly on the physical and logistical reality of it (painful leg plus the stress of getting to appointments on time, going to work late as a result, or rushing back to the office in time for meetings...), and successfully pushed off negative thoughts.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Monday night, after my 30 painless minutes on the stationary bike, instead of feeling increasingly positive, the realization that I only had one more week to heal started creeping in. Yesterday, the incremental physical improvements felt less noticeable while doubts and fears started becoming stronger. What if I can't keep up? What if it hurts so badly that I can't keep going? What if that "pop" sensation and sudden sharp pain happen again, mid-climb?!? Trying not to let my mind go there - not too badly at least - I enjoyed my gym workout and finished listening to my third audiobook in 4 days (can you spell "escape"?). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I got to chat with my cycling coach Ed Veal this morning. We hadn't talked in a while, and I had noticed that over the past week, I had gotten no sympathy from Ed regarding the injury. Just facts: "you can still work your upper body even if your calf hurts". No sympathy perhaps, but simple direction and a reality check. If it were soooo bad that I couldn't remain active at all, I would have had a bigger problem - like 10 years ago... Instead, I kept working out - differently and less intensely, but I did it. And it wasn't any harder to show up at the gym, meet up with Giovanni and get some work done, than it had been in previous weeks. I took that as a good sign, a sign that I was physically ok, and mentally dealing fairly well with the situation.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've worked with Ed now for the better part of the last 2 years, and we've gotten to know each other well. I often joke that he spends a lot of time in my head, whenever I'm training on the bike, or going around the track lap after lap, or doing hill repeats on two feet with a pack on my back. His voice in my head can be amusingly annoying at times - one of his qualities, everyone will agree, is that Ed is stubborn and doesn't give up. His voice in my head... Well, it's relentless and harsher than the real Ed and it rarely let's me take a break. And when I do take a break, the voice sounds sooo disappointed... </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The thing is though, when I talked to "live Ed" this morning, I knew he would have the right words for me, and he did. He offered good advice and shared wisdom that made me think he'd climbed Rainier a few times himself. It wasn't a long chat, but it was enough to make me feel positive and restore the balance I had almost managed to maintain on my own, but not quite.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don't know if I'll reach Rainier's summit the morning of July 4th - if I do, they're going to celebrate with fireworks across the entire USA! If I don't summit (again...), that's ok. Not great, but ok, and I'll try yet again some day. But I'm not ready to raise the white flag just yet. The leg is feeling better and better, and I'll be giving it my best shot. There will be pain - it's a mountain climb, of course there's pain involved, whether on two wheels or two feet... </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Other friends have helped me along over the last several months, sometimes providing very concrete and direct help, and other times just by showing up to ride bikes at 5:30am. And then there's my mountain guide friend Peter who has, over 3 expeditions together in the past year, driven me to work harder and challenge myself well beyond what I think I'm capable of. Friends like Jason, who understands without me having to spell it out in details. We go back a long way... And friends like Karen, who understands physical pain and hardship and how to smile through it all. And Pearl, who was there 10 years ago when I had to cancel Rainier. She immediately grasped what it meant when I told her I'd hurt my leg. And my loving Mom and Dad, who are almost successful at almost hiding their worry, as I once more become more adventurous than I ever was allowed to be as a kid... </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Yogi Berra said of baseball that the game "is 90% mental, and the other half is physical." At first glance, the math doesn't add up, but the man was right. </span>HSBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14777671812338203740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3714710739320616201.post-89727911016082962452013-12-18T10:27:00.004-08:002013-12-18T10:27:59.225-08:00New Beginnings...<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened." - Dr. Seuss</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I read that this morning on Facebook (thank you to a distant friend who just happened to post that...), and thought, wow, this captures this week (and month, and year, and more...) so perfectly well for me. Despite the very mixed and difficult emotions of the moment, I am choosing to smile.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After 17 years of working in the corporate world of enterprise software, I have decided to take a "career break". I'm not sure whether to call it a "sabbatical", or a "lifestyle break", or a "new chapter". But you get the idea. My last day of work is in two days. After the holidays, come January, I will not be going into the office every day, and will not be overseeing, planning and implementing software projects anymore. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Instead, I will be focusing on sports, fitness, healthy living, traveling, renovating my oh-so-tired-looking condo, writing, volunteering, and working with some friends on some small fun projects which could - maybe - turn into something bigger down the road. You shouldn't be surprised to hear that *cycling* will be a big part of 2014 for me, as will other passions that I've put on the backburner for a few years, for lack of time. I've already started something that will keep me busy in coming weeks and months: <a href="http://cyclingwomencan.com/" target="_blank">CyclingWomenCan.com</a> - bookmark it and visit often :)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After a few months (I'll say somewhere between 6 to 8 to 10...), I'll have a plan in place for "next steps" - how to drive my career post-break, perhaps in an entirely new direction. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm very excited about this. It was not, and is not, an easy decision to make. After all, the last 17 years have been intense, busy, challenging, and have given me innumerable opportunities to work with amazingly smart people, in a variety of environments, with great clients, and in a few exciting locales (ok - not all locales have been that exciting...).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Choosing to step away from my company right now, where I leave some great friends, people I have worked with very closely for 12 of the last 17 years, is one of the most difficult decisions I've ever made. But a big part of me has known for a while that I needed to do this, to step out of the comfort zone, and challenge myself in new ways. It became too easy for me to be complacent, and stay in this career path, because of the feeling of security it procured me. But after a while, I realized "security" was keeping me from exploring other things that I won't be able to do when I'm "retired", read: "older". I think life is worth living right now, and I don't want to put things on hold until I have time "later". It isn't just about taking time off to go do "fun stuff". There are more personal ways in which I will be challenging myself, and I know that if I face these challenges successfully over the next several months, I will be a better person for it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I never regret anything. Ever. I see everything from my past as either a success, a learning opportunity, or just plain life experience. I don't always master all my emotions the way I would like, but regret is one emotion I refuse to allow myself. It's a complete waste of energy and brain cells, and sucks the life out of you and those around you. So - regardless of what happens over the next few months, and the next few years afterwards, I will not regret this decision. I know that much.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A friend (who herself took a year off to travel the world in 2012) recently sent me a link to the following "Ted Talk" by Stefan Stagmeister, <a href="http://www.ted.com/talks/stefan_sagmeister_the_power_of_time_off.html" target="_blank">"The Power of Time Off"</a>. Worth watching.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Those of you reading this who have been part of my professional endeavours over the last 17 years, I could gush silly for several more paragraphs, but I will limit it to a very sincere, "Thank you", and I look forward to our paths crossing again soon. </span>HSBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14777671812338203740noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3714710739320616201.post-20145742670454901442013-10-26T13:22:00.001-07:002013-10-26T13:22:33.471-07:00Fall DivaCamp: Another Beautiful, and Yet Completely Different Experience...<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><b>What is TotalCyclist DivaCamp?</b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">TotalCyclist DivaCamp™ is described as the only cycling camp specifically for women, where participants of all skill levels have the opportunity to learn new skills, gain confidence on and off the bike, make new friends, and have fun. It’s a relatively modest description, if you ask me, because DivaCamp is so much more than that... It is also a much more powerful - and empowering - experience: four days of beautiful rides in Virginia’s hilly and colorful Jefferson National Forest, enhanced by wonderful meals and good wine, valuable interactive presentations, relaxing yoga, all in a beautiful, rustic setting... Add to that the presence and guidance of truly great coaches, the positive energy of a group of confident professional women all there to learn and enjoy themselves, and the excellent support of Liv/giant as a wonderful sponsor for a women’s cycling event. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I suppose one could compare it to various “team building” exercises based on physical and mental challenges that take participants beyond their comfort level. The unifying effect of the bike and all things cycling, at DivaCamp, is what makes it such a truly passionate event. Participants share a love of cycling - regardless of their skills, fitness, experience, fascination (or not...) with the sport of cycling, desire (or not) to race and compete. Every day, the campers get on the bike, and go for a ride together. Every day, they come back from that ride light-hearted, smiling, confident, happy, and looking forward to the next ride. You can’t beat that feeling...</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>Why Do I Keep Going Back?</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibo-NM8rGBdgE4GDX1cTu9FflvPg0re8Jvp_QLEHxE_CFv-sh1dK2XnINhLsaLM0OfffGLqYea4TwPFIWyul3UaKS3_iltKoh3qz0aJdcV2dklC3XL8WgYFoZdcYq8wSXp6lJlgEfncvDI/s1600/IMG_1293.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibo-NM8rGBdgE4GDX1cTu9FflvPg0re8Jvp_QLEHxE_CFv-sh1dK2XnINhLsaLM0OfffGLqYea4TwPFIWyul3UaKS3_iltKoh3qz0aJdcV2dklC3XL8WgYFoZdcYq8wSXp6lJlgEfncvDI/s320/IMG_1293.jpg" width="240" /></a><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I just came back from my fifth DivaCamp - my third Fall DivaCamp. Some friends have asked me why I keep going back: surely the novelty has worn off, and the challenges are not what they were... right? True. The novelty has indeed worn off, and (this year) the challenges were not what they were last year. You might think that’s bad. I certainly don’t. That warm fuzzy familiar feeling, of being amongst friends, in a lovely charming environment, in a beautiful natural setting, literally submerged in positive energy for four days, is unbeatable. At a time of year where the days are short, cold and often rainy back home, four days of nothing but pure positivism are priceless for me. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">With every return to DivaCamp, I am more relaxed, and more excited about it. I know precisely what to expect, down to the heart-warming sight of twenty-some bikes hanging from their back wheels over the long porch at Wilderness Adventures at Eagle Landing, the invisible (and non-threatening) barking bloodhound up the hill and around the curve, the occasional crab apples on the road, and the feeling of excitement when each new car with a bike rack and a license plate from a wide range of US states (or Ontario...) pulls into the parking lot.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">One might argue that I am now too much inside of my comfort zone - and not forced out of it enough. I expected that might be the case this year. It was a “risk” I was glad to take. I figured, “just enjoying myself”, without the same level of challenge as in previous years, would be just fine... As it turns out, I was both right, and wrong, in that assessment. I got a lot more out of it than “just enjoying myself”.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Driving down from Toronto with my friend Ria, we spent 7 hours chattering non-stop, until, that is, we focused on a deep and poignant audiobook for the last 3 hours or so. The chat, and the book, bonded us even more. Ria and I don’t see each other often outside of camp. We have fairly different lives, she an artist with a family outside of the city, me the urban career girl, yet, we are a perfect example of the bonds and friendships that DivaCamp fosters. We have a different interest in cycling. Hers may be a bit more casual than mine, yet she loves riding and the feeling of freedom it gives her. I’m a passionate (read: obsessive) fan of the sport of cycling, and have become an increasingly serious cyclist in the past year. Yet, at camp, we are all equally engrossed in the joy of riding and the sharing of cycling adventures. How, and why? It’s hard to explain. But it’s easy to experience...</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I had zero stress going to camp this year. I was very excited, but it was pure joy, and no butterflies tried to invade my stomach. The familiarity of the experience was lovely.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>What’s in a Year? 40 lbs and 4000+km</b></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAltN3GWih6cOLXkXZBV3P_1eAegUVVpx3mJf7SQKQSXwPfn758fUj86t0OZUEsD2habZKeR2OLMelp5t686YEmFTzLPGvpEYjx5oz-IeTIZPs3P6x6ZaqjOKcQ23xUfh1FxXyoU720RzS/s1600/IMG_0074.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAltN3GWih6cOLXkXZBV3P_1eAegUVVpx3mJf7SQKQSXwPfn758fUj86t0OZUEsD2habZKeR2OLMelp5t686YEmFTzLPGvpEYjx5oz-IeTIZPs3P6x6ZaqjOKcQ23xUfh1FxXyoU720RzS/s320/IMG_0074.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo courtesy of Barb Greene</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">My cycling ability (fitness, skills, experience) have grown exponentially since my last camp a year ago and I knew my experience this fall would be very different, although I could not comprehend ahead of time just how different it would be. I went back, this time, mainly because I wanted to compare what it would be like to ride the hilly terrain with better fitness and more experience. Since last DivaCamp a year ago, I’ve dropped 40 pounds, got fit, and I’ve ridden over 4,200km (2,600 miles) outdoors on my bike (in addition to countless indoor miles). </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">What prompted that transformation was, in great part, the desire to enjoy camp even more next time, without struggling as much from a fitness perspective, and being able to focus on skills and on improving as a rider. The process of becoming a cyclist started at my first DivaCamp in Spring 2011. It has been a journey, and the pace of that journey accelerated significantly starting at Fall DivaCamp last year.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Upon returning from DivaCamp last October, I decided to hire a coach in Toronto (I needed the local presence), and, after training indoor through the winter, I started the outdoor season in April a new person, and a new cyclist. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I had the incredible opportunity this year to climb some of the world’s most famous climbs in Italy and France, and challenged myself on longer routes than I had ever done before. There was no doubt in my mind that I was ready for DivaCamp, in a way I had never even considered before. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">From a cycling perspective, my goals for this camp were two-fold: I was hoping to join the “fast” group, and I was expecting to beat my own time up Potts Mountain, perhaps even climbing it in less than 1 hour. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Both of these goals were accomplished easily (52 minutes up Potts), and yes, it gave me a good deal of satisfaction. Not because I was faster than my friends - no, this is not a race or a competitive environment. But because I improved, and it felt awesome. Certain hills that were difficult last year suddenly were very easy this year. That feeling - of having improved, of the proof of success, of the pure joy of riding a bike - left me giddy. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I’ve known throughout this year, working with my coach Ed Veal in Toronto, that I was improving. I usually ride with people who are much stronger than me, which helps me improve (nothing like getting dropped to make you want not to get dropped...). Nonetheless, being able to compare exactly one year to the date, on precisely the same roads, was fun and rewarding.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>A New Experience</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1v2VhJgl_d513FsodJR4SSPur5qRM0fyfe-PzvQ2x61Mvf6YJP3iDP0HPcKe26_VR8lGowZoxX4EAABv9BsMCDJHQO5qtuQhjlzjx1bj4kRNPLyJYOu_JkgtjGfhwVccqRhnM268ocUud/s1600/IMG_1297.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1v2VhJgl_d513FsodJR4SSPur5qRM0fyfe-PzvQ2x61Mvf6YJP3iDP0HPcKe26_VR8lGowZoxX4EAABv9BsMCDJHQO5qtuQhjlzjx1bj4kRNPLyJYOu_JkgtjGfhwVccqRhnM268ocUud/s320/IMG_1297.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Despite the lovely familiarity and happy results for me, this camp still managed to surprise me in an unexpected and truly wonderful way. At every camp, I have enjoyed the shared feeling of challenge and accomplishment, the support provided by my fellow campers, and the knowledge that we all genuinely cheer for one another. And at every camp, I’ve known that I wouldn’t have achieved as much if not for that encouragement and support from my friends.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">This time was different. I knew I was strong enough to accomplish my cycling goals, before getting to camp. So that meant I didn’t technically “need” the same level of support and encouragement from all the other campers. That’s not a bad thing. What that meant is that I had a lot more “space”, in my own head and (...yes...) in my heart, to focus on the joy of my friends’ efforts and achievements. This camp wasn’t all about me, for once. It was much more about everyone around me. My improved ability gave me the freedom to rejoice in my fellow campers’ own sense of pride and accomplishment, since I didn’t have to worry so much about whether I could do the rides myself. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I’ve heard all our coaches (past and present) - Chad, Terry, Tom, Melinda, Alison, Kelly, Marianne, and so many other great cyclists who have joined us previously - talk about “giving back”, and experiencing this great feeling watching us women develop into cyclists at DivaCamp. Being one of those who was busy working on becoming a cyclist, I don’t think I was getting what they were referring to. There was some measure of difficulty, or anxiety, or self-centred focus, that got in the way. As much encouragement as I offered my friends in the past, I needed their encouragement just as much. I “took” as much, if not more, as I “gave”. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">This time, I hope I gave more. I did “receive” - a lot, in fact - from everyone present, without exception. Close “old” friends and new friends both provided me with renewed inspiration, and a truly indescribable joy at seeing their accomplishments. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Barb: I’ve watched Barb get her Master’s degree in Sports Psychology while holding down a full time job, going through some personal challenges, and building a new practice, all the while feeling bad because she couldn’t train on the bike as much as she wanted (remember Chad’s presentation on trying to balance the cycling, professional and personal aspects of our lives?). What I saw at this camp was a woman who has grown tremendously as a professional in the past year; who delivered a great, interactive, and very timely presentation to us all; and who came out of camp more determined than ever to incorporate training back into her life, as other aspects of it are finally calming down and leaving her more time to focus on herself. Yes, that’s inspiring to me.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Leslie: we met at camp two years ago, and shared our struggles up Potts! Leslie came to camp this time beating herself up the first couple of days for not having trained enough, and for being less fit than last year (or so she claimed...), and (I think) with a touch of fear that she would struggle up Potts. And what did she do? She KILLED IT! And it was awesome to watch her reach the top the way she did, strong and smiling. I was so happy to see that!</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Sonya: we were roomies at Spring camp in 2012, and I knew Sonya was also busy transforming herself in the same timeframe that I was working on my cycling. She not only looked healthy and wonderful, but that new-found confidence transformed her as a cyclist. No longer afraid, she rode well in the group, and flew up the mountain. It was so cool to see that. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Lark: while I finally graduated to the faster group, Lark was part of that group right away at her first camp! I loved riding with her and seeing her learn more and more with every ride. When Debbie, Jen, Lark and I rode in a rotating paceline on the last day, we were flying! And it was glorious... :)</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Ria: another transformed rider... Uncomfortable riding in a group a year ago, Ria looked solid, comfortable, fast, and predictable (that’s a compliment, for a cyclist) in that paceline. She was just so much more relaxed on the bike!</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Christine (Brown): what can I say... STRONG!!! Super determined... She will fly up that mountain next year. Watch out...!</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Chris (Fahs): I’m so going to lose my Strava segments, next year, aren’t I...? I’m accepting the challenge. :) </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Marilyn: I kept thinking, “poor Marilyn is joining us the morning of Potts Mountain, without the benefit of the first two days of training”. Then she made me chase her down the road for about 5 miles... And I watched her muscle her way up a mountain. She’s got this...</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Jayne: I probably saw more of Jayne during the Potts climb than most other campers (just based on how/when we started). She switchbacked her way to the top for the last 1/2 mile, unwilling to put a foot down until the summit. Totally focused, totally determined.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Debbie: we’ve shared a few camps, and a few rides this year back home. She has had such an impact on my riding. The first ride we did together in June, where I was able to stay with her for the full 60 miles, and we finished strong with an average speed of over 18mph, was one of the best days I’ve had on the bike all summer. And then we did a full century (my first) together - which I wouldn’t have finished without her help... That kind of thing is true inspiration for me.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Lilli: we’ve also shared a few camps, and I’m always impressed by Lilli’s competitive spirit. Knowing she runs and races gives me the confidence to try racing... next year... :)</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Denise: her calm and poise translate into pure strength on the bike; she’s powerful, and a great wheel to follow. Great to share another camp with Denise.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Chrys: pulling double-duty as a camper and yoga master means having to give even more to her fellow campers, and Chrys did that with a smile, helping us all feel better after our rides, and bringing a whole different dimension to our shared experience. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Sherry: she truly deserved that Badass award! She drew blood, got patched up and kept riding without complaining, fought her way up the mountain, and joined us on the summit. I loved hearing about her training, and loved seeing that determination.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUPsTCjDyGxXp6nYJt84FnU5WaMrDGCB_dbPS52lcrWCPLesVEAzBO2TUKzr2HYD9abaC0Cb7tudPms8QkpnCp7VX94Bv7T9q-imSnbhoks44vkb_MKjXHB29j5V2GW-hnVktBOgCB6dOG/s1600/1376599_382104808586087_992522000_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUPsTCjDyGxXp6nYJt84FnU5WaMrDGCB_dbPS52lcrWCPLesVEAzBO2TUKzr2HYD9abaC0Cb7tudPms8QkpnCp7VX94Bv7T9q-imSnbhoks44vkb_MKjXHB29j5V2GW-hnVktBOgCB6dOG/s640/1376599_382104808586087_992522000_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Everyone present added amazing energy, such that all of us, as a whole, were much more than the sum of our parts. Riding in a group is faster than riding alone, we all know that. But *being* that group is much more than being the sum of all of us as individuals, on and off the bike.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I cannot end this without talking about our coaches. With six DivaCamps completed to date, Chad and his team keep getting it right - and improving things with every camp. The improvements are not just based on the logistics and overall service.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjgYASPGX97jq7jzGJSeDHhmltPFIWhUTVgE6tSPi4BatzXjzPii2h-nRnOmYWBztLZ7FwrWRc9B96Lk75M_0PmwavanjrYLE3VnRZb2qwwAgCEEJRM5LmQLan2YxC2H6p0izGe-O2BOYW/s1600/IMG_1300.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjgYASPGX97jq7jzGJSeDHhmltPFIWhUTVgE6tSPi4BatzXjzPii2h-nRnOmYWBztLZ7FwrWRc9B96Lk75M_0PmwavanjrYLE3VnRZb2qwwAgCEEJRM5LmQLan2YxC2H6p0izGe-O2BOYW/s320/IMG_1300.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by Sonya Ewing</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">With Tom and Terry (whom I have referred to in the past as my "Zen Master on Two Wheels") having been at nearly every camp, Chad, Tom and Terry now have the planning and process down to a science: whom to send up the road first and for how long, where to reconnect, who needs more or less of this kind or that kind of coaching, and so on. But “despite” their competitive cycling backgrounds, they understand how to relate to less experienced cyclists, and female cyclists at that... No, we are NOT the same as a bunch of guys who want to sprint to the Stop sign, and want to make each other suffer. Yes, we do occasionally want to sprint to the finish, or reach the end of the road ahead of our friends, and some of us do care about our time on the climb. But DivaCamp is not about that, and Chad, Tom, Terry, and all other coaches who have been there have figured out how to teach, coach, encourage, motivate, and draw the best out of all of us, regardless of our goals. Jen and Teresa, of Liv/giant, were the strong, female, cyclist role-models, teaching basic bike mechanics and leading rides, helping to debunk the misconception that cycling is a man’s sport. Cycling is for all of us, and DivaCamp elevates cycling to an experience that goes well beyond the bike.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Thank you all for the inspiration, the motivation, the fun, the energy, and the great memories. Until next time. It seems I’m already committed to going back next year :) Breathe... Pedal... Believe...</span></div>
HSBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14777671812338203740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3714710739320616201.post-56880339732087959222013-07-02T15:22:00.003-07:002013-07-02T15:31:32.094-07:00Ted King, cyclist and good guy<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was just asked, via Twitter DM: "Quick question, Why is Ted King so awesome. Everyman, hard worker, anti-doping? Trying to grasp the essence."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's no secret that I'm a big Ted King fan. So it seems fitting that, on this seminal day that marks Ted's career and life in a big way, I should attempt to answer that complex question from, if nothing else, my own humble point of view as a fan. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My American cycling friends first made me aware of Ted about 3 years ago, but at that time, he was just a name, just another young American cyclist in the bunch. He seemed friendly enough, making guest appearances on my friends' pictures on Facebook and replying to various fan tweets along the way.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I started following Ted on Twitter, came across some Bicyling Magazine columns he'd written, became a regular reader of his blog. And lo and behold, a theme emerged. Here was one of the most positive, energetic, engaging, accessible and likable figures amongst pro-cyclists. Not to say there aren't other charismatic, "nice guys" in the peloton, but it seemed that Ted had put together a great package.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My friend's Twitter message asked, "everyman, hard worker, anti-doping?" Yes. Absolutely. And definitely. Starting with the latter, I am a staunch believer that Ted is clean. Period. No need to discuss that one any further. Read <a href="http://bicycling.com/blogs/kingme/2013/01/25/the-best-kept-secret/" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">this article</span></a> to understand my willingness to believe him. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hard worker? He shares his training rides (usually long, challenging and often solo rides) on Strava, always with a comment that makes us all believe it was an "awesome ride" regardless of whether he might have suffered like a dog. He's come up with concepts like the "200-on-100", and the "200-NOT-on-100", which, in a nutshell, boil down to 200 mile-rides (320km) in one day, for charity and, well, just for the fun of it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He works hard as a domestique, often riding tempo on the front of the peloton for hours on end, to bring teammate and superstar Peter Sagan to contest for the sprint (which Peter often wins). He rarely if ever expresses anything that sounds even remotely negative, doesn't complain, and just gets the job done. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ted is a prolific and pretty talented writer (and photographer, for that matter) - check out <a href="http://iamtedking.com/"><span style="color: blue;">IAmTedKing.com</span></a>, his column in Bicycling Magazine, as well as other blogs, such as the one on the RoadID website. He is a pretty savvy marketer, having started his own merchandising brand, "I Am NOT Ted King", and raising funds for his favorite charity through the sale of IANTK clothing, cycling apparel, and accessories. Ted's favorite charity is the <a href="http://www.krempelscenter.org/" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">Krempels Center</span></a>, a "nonprofit organization dedicated to improving the lives of people living with brain injury from trauma, tumor or stroke"</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> in Portsmouth, New Hampshire. There is a 100% probability that I never would have heard of Krempels if it weren't for Ted, and even greater odds that the majority of cycling fans who have contributed money to Krempels in the past couple of years would never have done so, if not for Ted. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Why Krempels? Because, as Ted has shared with the world, <a href="http://www.iamtedking.com/2013/03/ten-years/" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">his father suffered a debilitating stroke ten years ago</span></a>, leaving him with a permanent brain injury. Mr. King has benefited from the care of the Krempels Center over the years, and Ted has seen fit to "give back" by organizing the Krempels King of the Road Challenge to raise funds, and by contributing money from the sale of IANTK merchandise to the Krempels Center. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, you see, I think Ted is a good guy, a really good guy. And he works hard, usually with a smile on his face. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You might be thinking, "Ok, but what makes him SPECIAL?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He's tremendously <i>engaging</i>, and related to that, he's a brilliant brand manager. I don't mean just his "IANTK" brand of merchandise. That, in many ways, is the easy part of managing a brand. I'm referring to the management of HIMSELF as his own brand. He was one of the first pro-cyclists to use Twitter to engage with fans and supporters; he leverages Facebook, Strava and Instagram in a similar way. He promotes his team and sponsors. He seems to get on well with everyone. (Does he ever fake it? Probably, sometimes - like all of us...) He willingly spends time with fans - chatting, taking pictures, having real conversations. He always comes across as very sincere and genuine, and, I know from my own experience, and that of many friends who have reported similar encounters with Ted, his fans walk away feeling like Ted is their friend. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here's an example of "engaging with Ted": after learning he had moved from Lucca to Girona this year, I was curious about the reasons behind his move. I messaged him, asking if he'd be willing to write something about it. He responded that it was a great idea, and wrote a <a href="http://www.iamtedking.com/2013/02/heck-why-not" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">blog </span></a>about it. Perhaps I gave him the idea, perhaps he'd already written the blog when I asked. It doesn't matter. The fact that he took the time to interact with me ("just a fan") is unique. Multiply that by several hundreds (thousands?) of interactions with his fans during the season, and it's easy to understand why he has become such a crowd favorite. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He's a college graduate (economics major) and he happens to be pretty smart. He's a family guy, close to his parents and brother. He shares a lot about himself, and yet, there are clearly some topics that remain private (as they should). He chooses not to swear on social media (I'm sure it's a conscious decision, part of his "brand management"), and is very consistent in the values he expresses - again, that "genuine" thing that makes him "one of us", but the one whom we can all live vicariously through, as he gets paid to ride his bike in phenomenal locations around the world. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oh, and he loves maple syrup... His fans have latched on to this - lots of tweeting to <a href="https://twitter.com/iamtedking" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">@iamtedking</span></a> about maple syrup... Yep, I gave him a small bottle of (Canada Grade A) maple syrup in Montreal last year, and I know lots of other fans have given him syrup as well. Why? Heck, why not... Maple syrup is pretty awesome stuff.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today, July 2, 2013, Ted is facing one of the most challenging days in his professional life. He made his Team Cannondale's selection for the Tour de France this year. His first Tour de France, the realization of a dream, at age 30. He worked hard for it. Everyone saw how he got leaner, fitter, and pulled like a work horse in races like the AMGEN Tour of California. His fans, friends and fellow cyclists cheered when he announced he made the TDF team. Then - catastrophe on Stage 1: a crash, resulting in a separated shoulder. Ted wasn't about to give up on the Tour, and he started and finished Stages 2, 3 and 4, carrying on with severe pain, but in the hope that with each passing day, the pain would diminish, the legs would remain good, and he would soon be pulling for Peter Sagan again.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today, Stage 4, the Team Time Trial, saw him riding his road bike, as the TT bike was too painful. He took the start, quickly got dropped by his team (presumably not a surprise for any of them, or him), and finished the stage as an Individual TT. Controversy emerged when the Tour organization declared he finished outside of the time delay ("HD" for "hors délai") by a mere 7 seconds, while Ted's own SRM device showed him WITHIN the time limit. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Considering the crash of stage 1 was the result of the Tour organization's mis-management of the Orica-GreenEdge team bus fiasco, Ted's supporters erupted loudly on Twitter, demanding that the Tour reinstate him. The outpouring of support by fans, the media and a few other Tour riders, unprompted by Ted himself, is truly a testament to the following he has built, and the fact that he is truly well-liked in the peloton. Here is a <a href="http://bicycling.com/blogs/boulderreport/2013/07/02/the-cruelest-cut/?cm_mmc=Twitter-_-Bicycling-_-Content-Blog-_-cruelest-cut" style="background-color: white;" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">very good article on today's situation</span></a> and <a href="http://velonews.competitor.com/2013/07/tour-de-france/editorial-kings-7-second-elimination-from-tour-sends-wrong-message_293232" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">another one</span></a>, keeping in mind more will likely be written in coming days... </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don't know if I've answered "why Ted King is so awesome". I've yet to meet anyone who spoke ill of him, or said they didn't like him. Perhaps he's just one of those people that everybody likes. Maybe that's it. He's just so darn likable. He will be greatly missed in the rest of this year's Tour de France, if indeed the Tour organization fails to reinstate him. As much as it will be Ted's loss, his team's and sponsors' loss, and his fans' loss, it will most certainly be the Tour's loss. </span>HSBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14777671812338203740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3714710739320616201.post-74503818331002468452013-06-02T07:36:00.001-07:002013-06-02T07:36:44.958-07:00A little something about "inspiration"…<br />
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I don't know if I've just become more aware of it in the last year or two, or whether it is a fairly new "thing", but the word "inspiration" seems to be thrown about a lot more these days. "This is so inspiring!", we say, watching YouTube videos or TV shows, where someone does something unexpected or "above and beyond" to help fellow human beings, or animals, or the planet, or themselves… "Wow! I'm so inspired by what you/he/she did!" My question to you all is, "inspired to do what…?"</div>
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How often do we use the word "inspiration" a little loosely, calling inspirational anyone who does something we might not have done ourselves? And the question is, are we truly *inspired* by that, or do we merely *admire* what that person did?</div>
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There's a big difference. "Admiration" is fine, and is just that: respect (presumably) for, and recognition of, someone else's accomplishment. "Inspiration" should lead to action. If you claim to be "inspired" by someone or something, then use that inspiration to put a plan in place, and do something positive to benefit others, or even just yourself. You don't have to save the world. You don't have to be a hero. But if you claim to be inspired, DO SOMETHING with that inspiration. Otherwise, recognize that your "inspiration", is, in fact, only "admiration". </div>
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I'm not chastising anyone here. I am, however, speaking of my own experience. I have said many times in the past how "inspired" I was by this, that, and the other. Perhaps even by *you*. What I probably meant (but failed to recognize) was that I admired what you (or this, that and the other) did. However, if my admiration did not lead me to take action, it didn't qualify as inspiration.</div>
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Since taking stock and coming to grip with that difference, I've made a very conscious effort to distinguish between the two, and make a commitment to action when I felt truly inspired. I don't use the word "inspiring" freely anymore. I will congratulate you very genuinely on your accomplishment, and will be very proud of you. If it leads me to action, I will very gladly give you credit for "inspiring" me. </div>
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I've recently lost a lot of weight, got in great shape, and am on a great path - healthy (physically, mentally), happy, and at peace with myself and the world. I also have goals that I want to meet, dreams that I'm working on realizing, and ambitions that I work hard towards. A great deal of inspiration was needed to make all this happen. I was fortunate to recognize true inspiration in the people around me. Sometimes, it was their own action that inspired me, their sacrifice, challenges they overcame (sought or unexpected), or just their word that woke something in me. Other times, my inspiration was of my own choosing. </div>
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Most recently, I learned of an old friend from my childhood, with whom I had not been in touch in over 20 years, who passed away after a very painful 3-year battle against cancer. I'm told she loved life, loved her husband and three children, and fought valiantly until the very end. The day after learning of her passing, I was faced with a self-chosen challenge to climb a mountain on my bike. It was difficult yet very rewarding to take on that challenge. At some point in the climb, the initial enthusiasm started giving way to fatigue and a bit of impatience (the inner child in me was whining, "are we theeeeerrreee yet….?"). That's when inspiration kicked in. My friend fought for her life for three years. All I had to do was pedal a bike up a hill for another hour or so. I was the only one pushing the pedals, but I could hear her voice encouraging me with every pedal stroke. Her fighting spirit and love of life inspired me to keep going. She never gave up. I wasn't about to. I made it to the top.</div>
HSBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14777671812338203740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3714710739320616201.post-39233976492789905052013-03-09T10:10:00.002-08:002013-03-09T11:35:30.316-08:00Well, hello there Springtime!<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It took the arrival of Daylight Savings Time and a first glimpse of spring to make me realize how long it's been since I've written anything. Looking back at the last four months, so much has happened - both good and bad - that it seems necessary to capture some thoughts on paper (or on the computer, as it goes).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Back in October, I attended </span><a href="http://hsbworldtraveler.blogspot.ca/2012/10/totalcyclist-diva-camp-again.html" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">TotalCyclist's Diva Camp, in Virginia</span></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">. This was my fourth Diva Camp, in the company of great friends. Fresh air, fantastic roads, awesome friends, beautiful scenery, and hardly any online time made for a great break from everyday life. On the last day of camp, one of the coaches suggested we post our cycling goals publicly, on the group's Facebook page. I realized I didn't really have any goals, other than "I really should be more active this winter than I was last winter...". The thought of establishing goals stuck with me, and became very real in the next few days.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I soon decided to train - really train - over the winter, and leverage that training to help me lose weight. I'll keep this part of the story short, but it's been amazing. I found the people, framework and support I needed to train successfully, made many new friends in the process, expanded my cycling network significantly, and dropped 30 pounds (so far), since November 1st. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwrWQ_GlIYmp_i6t0TK8EZZYy84_jv6pRyl-FsuiyLn6cqfIiRCP24rTzSjcrtCKfV6Nqu_Jp_ovf5xwcKCM-Fm3WqnNHF6NhA2aybkbLThkaTB7iwvIWPaSYhFCoAqDHXcDt0euFYRUu3/s1600/BD5BqWlCMAEYucq.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: left;"><img border="2" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwrWQ_GlIYmp_i6t0TK8EZZYy84_jv6pRyl-FsuiyLn6cqfIiRCP24rTzSjcrtCKfV6Nqu_Jp_ovf5xwcKCM-Fm3WqnNHF6NhA2aybkbLThkaTB7iwvIWPaSYhFCoAqDHXcDt0euFYRUu3/s320/BD5BqWlCMAEYucq.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have to give a special shout-out to Ed Veal, of </span><a href="http://www.realdealracing.ca/" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">Real Deal Performance</span></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">, and the </span><a href="http://www.mgridetoronto.com/" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">Morning Glory Cycling Club</span></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">, of Toronto, for having made my winter fantastic, and for being a big part of what is announcing itself as an amazing outdoor cycling season this year. I now have major riding goals for this season: two Gran Fondos (including the </span><a href="http://www.canfondo.com/SteveBauerCanFondo/Home.html" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">Steve Bauer CanFondo</span></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">), Centurion C50, and a big cycling trip abroad (more on that later). Training has become a part of my everyday life - I'm not always as disciplined as I should be, and sometimes I still struggle with the motivation to get on the bike/trainer, but the occasional "personal bests" sessions I've had keep boosting me up. And we all know that "more results" only come with "more training". So there...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Losing weight is a transformational experience on so many levels. The obvious, physical level, of course... feeling, and being, healthier, with a lower resting heart rate, blood pressure that makes the doctor smile, and (a result of riding the bike so much), firm, shapely (shapel<i>ier</i>, at least...) quads, hamstrings and calves. My bad back is less bad, my posture is better. More importantly, I feel awesome.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The less obvious, psychological effects of weight loss, are equally awesome. The compliments from family and friends who notice the change; having to buy new clothes every week (expensive but fun...); the boost that comes from doing something that used to be physically hard and realizing that it now feels easy; and the endorphins that come from regular exercise and increased wellness - those are all things that have made the last four months truly special and rewarding for me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Training and being healthier also helped me on a very different level over the winter. On December 13, I got a phone call from my Dad to tell me Mom had been taken to the hospital by ambulance. We would shortly find out that she needed emergency surgery that very night, and that she should be fine, but would have a long recovery ahead of her. I immediately flew to Montreal to be with my parents, and over the next two weeks (and in pretty severe winter weather), Dad and I traveled to the hospital twice a day to take care of Mom. Mom returned home just after Christmas, and is now continuing her recovery. Life is not the same as "before", and probably won't be again. But - we're all very grateful to still be together, and are focused on making the best of the days ahead and the nice weather to come, so Mom and Dad can go back to being more active again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Our annual holiday plans to travel south and spend Christmas in Mexico were obviously thwarted, and all three of us missed the sun, sand and beach time. But that became very secondary in the grand scheme of things.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A mere few days after arriving in Montreal, I received another dreadful phone call, from a close friend in Toronto this time. One of our friends had died, very suddenly and unexpectedly, of a heart attack. His wife - another close friend - and two daughters were left devastated, just days before Christmas, to deal with such a terrible loss. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I wasn't able to leave Mom's side to attend my friend's funeral. To this day, his death seems unreal to me, and when I visit his family, I keep expecting him to walk in the room, like always...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So December was tough. I didn't have my bike in Montreal, and knew right away I needed to exercise every day to stay sane. I found a </span><a href="http://www.atlasgym.ca/" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;" target="_blank">great gym near home</a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">, and squeezed in one to two hours every morning to go work out and expend some pent up energy. It's surprising how quickly the adrenaline and endorphins generated can lift one's spirits, even when dealing with very difficult and sad situations. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I came back to Toronto in January, and was able to start skiing and snowshoeing every Saturday. My new "bike legs" work wonders on skis, and I've enjoyed skiing hard and fast this season, with no soreness and no fatigue. We'll soon see how long my new fitness and strength last in Vail, CO, compared to our short Ontario hills!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;">In the last three weeks, not only have there been a flurry of cycling races in Europe to watch and follow, but there have been a few local events to attend as well. A fundraiser for the </span><a href="http://www.toronto2015.org/lang/en/the-games/venue-plan/milton-velodrome.html" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">Milton Velodrome</span></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"> (being built for the PanAm and ParaPan Am Games of 2015) organized by the Morning Glory Cycling Club was a great success and was attended by many of Canadian cycling's best.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The Toronto Bike Show, just this past weekend, also whet my appetite and allowed me to connect with great people and friends who share my enthusiasm (ok... obsession...) with cycling. I spent periods of time at Steve's and Josée's CanFondo booth and convinced a few folks to come ride with us in September; I also spent some time with my Real Deal Racing / Real Deal Performance friends Ed and Mike. Want to have fun and feel good about life? Spend time with positive and enthusiastic people. Emotions are contagious. I came home from the Bike Show totally pumped. No pun intended. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">2013 looks like it will be a travel year for work as well as for fun, and that is (for the most part) a great thing. Too much travel does make me a bit cranky after a while, but "just enough travel" puts a huge smile on my face. So far this year, I've mixed it up with some trips to the snowy and cold Midwest, New York City, and even the UK, where I found something unexpected: sunshine in London.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And now - already well into the month of March, I've traveled for work several times (for the most part - that's a great thing); I'm still riding indoors but will soon be outdoors; I'm heading to Vail in a couple of weeks to cap off the ski season; I've got a bike trip to Europe scheduled for May; a Gran Fondo in Banff in August; and Steve Bauer's CanFondo and the Centurion C50 both in September. Throw in there a few local bike races to go watch and help out at, a couple of bigger races to travel to, and another trip or two that will get scheduled at the last minute, and it will be another fun-filled, incredibly busy summer. The bike is ready, my new-found legs are ready, and I am psyched. <a href="http://www.lifeisgood.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">Life is good</span></a></span><span style="color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.lifeisgood.com/" target="_blank">®</a></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">*</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">. Big time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">* I'm a fan of the "Life is Good" brand but this isn't a "plug" (I don't get anything for mentioning them, believe me... In fact, if they saw this, they might ask me to remove the picture). But visit their page, and odds are you'll find at least one thing to make you smile :)</span></div>
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HSBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14777671812338203740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3714710739320616201.post-80609433634658653592012-10-23T19:44:00.001-07:002012-10-23T19:44:41.960-07:00TotalCyclist Diva Camp again!<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I felt like I was flying down the hill. Shouting "on
your left!" at the top of my lungs as I passed one friend after another, I
took long sweeping curves at full speed, topping out at a decent speed before I
ran out of hill to descend. I'd done that before - going downhill fairly fast
on my bike. But I'd never enjoyed it as much as I did on this sunny Friday
afternoon in Virginia. Blame Diva Camp. Again.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It always starts the same way: campers trickle into camp,
are greeted warmly by Chad and his team, register, collect a goody bag filled
with great sponsors' schwag, get acquainted with one another in an atmosphere
of nervous, positive energy. Those who have been to Diva Camp before know the
drill: settle in, unpack, meet and greet your roommates, figure out where the
electrical outlets are so all the toys can get charged every night, and...
relax! Easily done, by breathing in the fresh, clean air of the country, and
listening to the full silence for a few minutes... </span></span><a href="http://youtu.be/unf4Zu_j2NY" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" target="_blank">See just how peaceful it was...</a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Lunch and introductions follow. It's Day 1, there are many
new names and faces to remember, and the anticipation of what's coming over the
next four days is palpable. New campers are nervous - I'm sure their thoughts
all converge towards "Am I going to be too slow? Will I be the one that
everyone else is waiting for, or afraid to ride close to? Am I going to
remember who the coaches are and what their names are? Am I going to fit into
this?" Funny, how being at camp as an adult isn't that different from
being at camp as a kid!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The first ride is, predictably, all over the map. Everyone
is eager, everyone has too much pent up energy or too much fatigue, or forgot
to go through their normal pre-ride routine and is suddenly ill-prepared. Throw
in a hill - even a gentle one - right at the start, and campers on bikes look
like a bunch of first graders on the very first day of school, finally allowed
outside at recess. It's messy, and the teachers spend all their time corralling
their wayward horde. Similarly, on Day 1, our coaches work hard, making sure
campers stay together, go in the right direction, and stay safe. And have fun.
That goes without saying. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">As an experienced camper, I still made a rookie mistake. My
pre-ride routine got all messed up, and I forgot my inhaler. I
pushed to climb the hills, and ended up in that state of stomach distress and
lungs-like-bellows that hopefully can be resolved with a quick puff of asthma
meds. Thanks, Leslie, for carrying your inhaler and saving my ride! And thanks
C</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">had for knowing that when I say, "I'm not ok right now, I need to
stop", it means just that, and that I'll keep going in a few minutes. One
puff later and with new, open lungs, I found my legs, and had a wonderful ride.</span><br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHlyUFjOnyrcq4QODdFL-yRNEcqvKCnPU3G1pthnbsdghtuDES90Z74NmeBIwVDFIGVLao12DP5KQRMZFfuueomf9vSUJn1PilIOWBc0sHgJZ9aUO1I63HCe19S5l1DePfXMgYNMU3D6LL/s1600/66219_10151261847665792_1442681634_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHlyUFjOnyrcq4QODdFL-yRNEcqvKCnPU3G1pthnbsdghtuDES90Z74NmeBIwVDFIGVLao12DP5KQRMZFfuueomf9vSUJn1PilIOWBc0sHgJZ9aUO1I63HCe19S5l1DePfXMgYNMU3D6LL/s320/66219_10151261847665792_1442681634_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Photo by Mark Merrill, TotalCyclist Diva Camp 2012</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: center;">The roads in that part of Virginia are lovely - carving the colorful autumn forests and hugging the hilly landscape in sweeping curves, well paved and clean (with no apples this year!) and devoid of traffic. Compared to my mostly-urban rides, it's heaven to step outside and already be in the country.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Thursday evening, we were treated to Mark's excellent
"Bike Mechanics 101" session. This was my fourth time attending it,
and I learn something new every time. It also re-confirms things I’ve learned,
and increases my confidence that what I've been doing on my own is correct.
Never hurts to watch a pro change a flat tire! </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Friday morning dawned clear and warm enough for short-sleeve
riding (for this northern girl, at least). Post-breakfast, our friend and
fellow camper Barb discussed with us the mental aspect of sports, cycling, and
performance in general. Having a sport psychologist amongst us was a treat -
helping us to focus on the things that would get us to the top and maintaining
positive self-talk was invaluable for the coming days.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Our skills session in the morning focused on descending - a
skill that, after my less-than-impressive descent off Potts Mountain last year,
I was eager to learn more about. While I've gotten better at descending this
season, I wanted to learn the
dos-and-don’ts, and gain confidence in a supported environment.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The "descent clinic" set up by Chad and all our
coaches was fantastic. Close to camp, and leveraging the gentle slope of the
quiet road, it allowed us campers to apply the theory right away, and start
practicing our turns while going downhill. The first few practice runs were
slow and a bit hesitant for some, but by the end, campers were "lettin'er
rip" down the hill. Most importantly - the predominant noise was laughter.
And the cowbell. Always have a cowbell when there are cyclists around. Thanks to
Carol, our fellow camper and ever-present cheerleader, for shaking that
cowbell!</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlrCIHZutnGQ9Tu8W7vsb42eB96ASM4oRK_Gl-xkmWwCEyTu9vx6GJh0c_A4meheJUVFni06kkyy9ah8HZM_aW_HHQpZ112VRcOUbSrl6nkymmk8PDtRjIYYYpZGHvOQec4y5mR3YKolVa/s1600/560598_10151258949705792_1095412135_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlrCIHZutnGQ9Tu8W7vsb42eB96ASM4oRK_Gl-xkmWwCEyTu9vx6GJh0c_A4meheJUVFni06kkyy9ah8HZM_aW_HHQpZ112VRcOUbSrl6nkymmk8PDtRjIYYYpZGHvOQec4y5mR3YKolVa/s200/560598_10151258949705792_1095412135_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Photo by Mark Merrill, TotalCyclist Diva Camp 2012</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Slaloming around the miniature road cones was fun<span style="font-size: small;">.</span> And I
even started enjoying going UP the hill every time. I didn't just feel free
going downhill, but even going up that gentle hill, I felt fast! Must have been
all that relaxation finally kicking in... </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Our afternoon ride was well designed, allowing campers to
experience the more challenging climb into New Castle, and to put into
practice our newly-acquired descending skills. The morning's slalom exercises
worked<span style="font-size: small;">.</span> Even in a matter of a few hours, I was able to apply my new skills and
descend comfortably, while having a blast! If you're
wondering what that weird "whoooooo-HOOOOO!" sound was, as we went
by, it was just me enjoying myself. It's this uncontrollable reaction I have
when skiing or riding downhill fast - I can't help it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Our ride was followed by a yoga/stretching session out in
the beautiful sunshine, then another great meal, some more relaxation time, and
an early night. Beauty rest is important for Divas, especially before the Queen
Stage.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Saturday morning was mostly clear, but definitely colder.
Out came the arm warmers, knee warmers, leg warmers, long-fingered gloves, toe
covers and embrocation. The plan was for all Divas to climb Potts Mountain that
day. To give us all the best odds possible, Chad and his team had come up with
three options: (1) drive to the base of Potts and save all the energy for the
actual effort of the climb; (2) do the short, direct ride to Potts, to get some
warm-up miles into the legs (my preferred option); and (3) for the stronger cyclists among us, ride some extra miles to Potts. As a result, all three groups would tackle the climb at
slightly different times, ensuring we would all be reaching the summit within a
reasonable window so we could celebrate together. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The plan worked! Every camper
reached the summit of Potts Mountain on her own terms - some faster than
others, but without exception, everyone got up the mountain under her own
power. As it was last year, the celebration at the summit was emotional, and
the celebratory picture was as rewarding for the coaches as it was for the
campers. I wrote at length about the climb last year (<a href="http://blog.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hsb/10/1318805842/tpod.html" target="_blank">read about Diva Camp 2011</a>), so all
I will say for now is, it wasn't any easier physically the second time around,
but mentally, it was. Glances off the side of the mountain gave me a good gauge
of how high off the valley floor I was, and I was constantly encouraged to see that
I was gaining altitude. I recognized the last curve before the summit, and knew
that the last half mile should be relished, even though it's painful... Barbara
won this year's "Badass Award" after climbing Potts on a hybrid bike
with flat pedals. Need I say more? WOW!</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIkiUOSU2mAsbaxZMF3_O6PKU3-N2bKDEoLEKNK8w6imFOnUC8d4sl31niLmL6CPHUlzpDypJHM_WtFWNb4mqNSug_Pb-rZBAUxZVUpgNenaItsfxnbSOFwovgFN3-TjMfnaya5bO-hDb_/s1600/579369_10151260288000792_849170400_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIkiUOSU2mAsbaxZMF3_O6PKU3-N2bKDEoLEKNK8w6imFOnUC8d4sl31niLmL6CPHUlzpDypJHM_WtFWNb4mqNSug_Pb-rZBAUxZVUpgNenaItsfxnbSOFwovgFN3-TjMfnaya5bO-hDb_/s640/579369_10151260288000792_849170400_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Photo by TotalCyclist Diva Camp 2012</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">What about the descent, you ask? Last year, I nearly wore
out my brakes, and felt panicked the whole way down. Coach Gordon, I felt, was
only with me so he could mark the spot where I went over the edge. In contrast,
this year, I left the summit second, passed the one friend who had gone first,
and was then only passed by two people (including coach Terry). I didn't set
any speed records, not even a PB speed, but I had fun! I thoroughly enjoyed
that descent, and felt in control, of both the bike and of my emotions, the
whole way down. I know that if I got to practice on it more often, I would
truly fly down that hill! Which, I guess, means that (1) I'll have to go back
to Potts Mountain, and (2) I'd better enjoy doing hill repeats up Potts<span style="font-size: small;">...</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The return ride to Wilderness Adventure was one of the most
fun rides I've had all season. I was amazed that I still had any legs left<span style="font-size: small;">.</span> It was smooth sailing all the way to camp, and I even felt
that I could have gone a few extra miles. I was sad that the day's riding was
over.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Applying other newly<span style="font-size: small;">-</span>learned skills, we spent a bit of time pract<span style="font-size: small;">icing <span style="font-size: small;">how to <span style="font-size: small;">take care of a flat tire. <span style="font-size: small;">Removing our front w<span style="font-size: small;">heel, we def<span style="font-size: small;">lated<span style="font-size: small;"> our perfectly good tube, <span style="font-size: small;">removed it, replaced it (with itself, since it was still good), and went th<span style="font-size: small;">rough the exerci<span style="font-size: small;">se of re-seeding the tire and infla<span style="font-size: small;">ting the tube once more. Great practice<span style="font-size: small;">, under the watchful eyes of our coac<span style="font-size: small;">h<span style="font-size: small;">es, and without any of the stress of being stranded by the roadside.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Wilderness Adventure at Eagle Landing being an outdoor
education center, there are all kinds of activities designed to challenge
campers. Last year, we did the zip line, and this year, we did the "ropes
course", which is to say, we walked across a very wobbly bridge (safely
protected by a harness and rope & pulley system) while our friends cheered
on. Not <span style="font-size: small;">m</span>y proudest moment (I wobbled sign<span style="font-size: small;">ificantly)</span>, but loads of fun!<span style="font-size: small;"> Dolores earned the <span style="font-size: small;">top prize based on speed AND style - unanimous decision.</span></span> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The last evening's celebrations went by too fast. The
celebrations were, in all honesty, on the tame side - tired as we were, and
aware that we had one last ride to look forward to the very next morning, we took it easy.
Dinner, football (go Alabama!), and the friendly, warm chitchat of Diva Camp
made for a great evening. Plans for a cornhole tournament, camp fire and movie
fell by the wayside - we were just too tired<span style="font-size: small;">...</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Sunday was once again sunny and crisp, and we covered as
many body parts as we could before heading out for our last ride. Forty-five
minutes out, then back, along our favorite roads. Contrary to last year's
"Sunday ride", when I had nothing left – nothing at all – I felt very
strong on Sunday, and had a blast! Our pace line was fun, the conversation was
good, and the riding was smooth. On the way back, seeing a short descent
followed by a punchy climb, I accelerated on the descent with the hope that my
momentum would get me to the top of the hill. Pushing a big gear, I passed
everybody, got to the top, and sat up, expecting everyone to come swarming
behind me. Nothing, no one... I started pedaling again, slowly. But then, it
was just too much fun, I had to push. After a couple of minutes, coach Melinda
caught up to me, and we started our own little two-women pace line. <span style="font-size: small;">Ah, the joy...!</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">We eventually waited at the church<span style="font-size: small;"> corner</span> to reunite with
our group, and crossed the road to climb the last short hill. At the top,
Melinda told me to wait before going down to camp. Melinda and Terry
had decided I should go down the hill on Terry's wheel, with Melinda behind me.
It took me a few seconds (and some wasted meters...) to grasp the concept of
getting RIGHT on Terry's wheel at speed, but soon I was traveling 32mph a
mere few inches behind him. We reached camp too soon – I wanted to keep
going, and was on the verge of yelling "faster!!!" as I was getting
the hang of this. Too bad the hill wasn't longer or steeper... </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Sunday afternoon at camp is always a sad event for me. We
had a nice lunch, and shared one last story about the rides we'd done, but
too soon, it was time to say good-bye. Ever seen 20 women and 4 men hugging
good-bye emotionally? Yes, the men get emotional too... Admit it, boys, you
don't like saying good-bye any more than we do.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">As we embarked on the trip home, in directions as far and
varied as Atlanta, <span style="font-size: small;">Charlotte, R<span style="font-size: small;">aleigh, Reading, </span></span>Toronto and Alaska, I know that all of us relived the
great moments of the last four days. For each of us, the cycling experience was
different – for some, it was in the challenge of riding in a pace line for the
first time<span style="font-size: small;">;</span> for others, it was facing the toughest climb they'd ever attempted;
and for me, it was in discovering the pure joy of descending without fear. But
for all of us, the Diva Camp experience was also in the friendships we made,
the lasting confidence we gained, and the inevitable sense of empowerment that
comes from challenging oneself and succeeding at pushing the boundaries of one’s
comfort zone.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Thank you all, my fellow Diva Campers, and thank you, my friends from TotalCyclist, Chad,
Terry, Melinda, Tom, Alison, Mark, Marianne and Hannah, for your flawless
logistics, great organization, and relentless positive energy and coaching.
Can't wait to be a little kid at camp again...</span></span></div>
HSBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14777671812338203740noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3714710739320616201.post-60129227366329967132012-06-17T07:31:00.002-07:002012-06-17T07:31:56.524-07:00Riding with the Big Boys<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After several months of following the exploits of the only professional Canadian cycling team, Team SpiderTech p/b C10, very closely, I decided to do more than cheer for them and tweet about them, and elected to join their VIP Club.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">That led to an invitation to participate in </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Team SpiderTech's "Ride with the Pros" VIP / Sponsor day. It was held yesterday, May 5th, and it was a fantastic event. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Out of 70 or so guests, I was the ONLY WOMAN. All other women (less than 10 total) were connected to the event, including Josée Larocque, co-founder of the team with Steve Bauer (Silver medal for Canada at LA Olympics in '84, yellow jersey at TDF etc.). The event was pretty spectacular, as it is (1) an appreciation day for sponsors, and (2) an opportunity for Bauer & company to network and try to find more sponsorship money. It was therefore a gathering of a group of successful businessmen (some of the business elite of Toronto), who also share my appreciation of cycling and of what Steve, Josée and their acolytes are building.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The riding was nice and hilly (short, punchy hills - a fair number of them...), and as expected, too fast for me. But the pros were just that, and catered well to everyone in the crowd. I got to ride and chat at length with Guillaume Boivin (currently ranked 4th on European circuit), Zach Bell (Canada's hope for gold in London on the track), Frank Parisien (funny guy!), Pat McCarty (KOM at ATOC last year), Martin Gilbert ("the other Gilbert"), Will Routley, who recently finished 10th in the GC at Tour of Turkey, and a couple more. Lucas Euser wasn't there as he was already in California, training for ATOC. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Oh - and for about 3km leading to the feed zone, I rode with a little group of five, which included Josée, Steve Bauer and Guillaume Boivin. I have to say that sitting on Steve's and Guillaume's wheels for a few kilometres was a helluva thrill for this cycling fan!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Josée and I, plus one or two others, rode at the back, and The Boys dropped us like a ton of bricks. After the feed zone, the group split, with Steve and the majority going for another 50km, while our group of about 30 (including Will Routley) came back to the event venue. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">One of the guests, who was ill suited to hill climbing, abandoned on the last hill, and got in the car. I managed to climb all the hills - albeit at my slow, steady pace, and didn't embarrass myself too badly.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The post-ride BBQ was pleasant - though a few more women would have made it a bit more.... "comfortable". But it was loads of fun, and I certainly hope to be able to do this again next year. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In the mean time - Go Spiders! :)</span>HSBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14777671812338203740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3714710739320616201.post-15174278167285013052012-06-17T07:23:00.000-07:002012-06-17T07:23:06.199-07:00Ah yes... Family!For Fathers' Day, I surprised my Mom & Dad with a visit to Laval for the weekend. We saw each other when they visited me for Mothers' Day in Toronto last month, so it hadn't been "that" long since we'd spent time together. But for the loving parents of this only child, any time away is <i>too long.</i><br />
Since I don't visit my hometown often (my parents visit me more often), I don't get to see my relatives much. So it's always a treat for me to be able to visit with my aunt and uncle, and cousins and their children.<br />
Yesterday, we drove the 60km through horrendous traffic (it took 1.5 hrs...) to go from Laval to the South Shore of Montreal, and hang out pool-side at my cousin's place. It had been two years since we'd all been together, my parents, aunt and uncle, two cousins, one cousin's wife and two daughters. And nearly as long since we'd talked on the phone or via email or Facebook.<br />
And yet... As always when we get together, we just pick up where we left off. It's easy, comfortable, comforting, warm, laugh-out-loud belly-laugh funny, energizing, emotional, and oh-so-good, to be with them all. Since I don't see them all often, perhaps our occasional visits are always good because they're so filled with happy anticipation, simplicity and connection. And yet, I think that part of the reason we reunite so easily is that, we're family. I have lots of relatives I'm not close to and haven't seen in decades, but this little group, I feel close to, and always will.<br />
And they told me yesterday, "you know, you're not alone! We're here for you...". That made me feel all warm and fuzzy. It was nice to hear and be reminded.<br />
Love you all, my little family...<br />
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<i><br /></i>HSBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14777671812338203740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3714710739320616201.post-57882024892791427602011-12-10T10:45:00.001-08:002012-10-14T10:33:27.342-07:00When your life mirrors reality TV, take action...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm so not a fan of reality TV. Not a single show. And yet, every once in a while, I feel compelled to watch "documentary-type" reality shows, like "Hoarding" - a bit like watching a train wreck, it's hard to avert your eyes... <br /><br />I recently stumbled upon a "Hoarding" episode ("stumbled", as in, there was nothing else to watch, I was channel surfing, and stopped on TLC for a few minutes). I was watching the show, feeling at once sorry for the poor people whose lives are ruined by their hoarding disorder, and disgusted at their self-inflicted insalubrious living conditions.<br /><br />Simultaneously, I took a look around at my own living quarters. Whoa... Piles of "stuff" everywhere, books collecting dust, clothes on the floor, dirty dishes in the sink, and even shopping bags on the floor still filled with whatever recent purchases I'd made. Wait a minute. The only difference between that, and the people on TV, is that I'm just lazy. I'm not afraid of throwing stuff out, but I often just "can't be bothered". Well, laziness isn't exactly something to brag about. So consider this a confession.<br /><br />My friends and parents willingly excuse me by saying, "you don't have time! You're always traveling or working hard all week, it's understandable that you don't want to spend your weekends cleaning!"<br /><br />But - enough is enough. I can't stand this anymore! So - today is "purge day". Sort, throw away/give away/put away, and clean. <br /><br />We'll see how long I last before I sit back down on the couch in front of the TV, or get distracted and stop making progress. Nonetheless, one thing's for sure: I don't ever want to be featured on that show!<br /><br />So, off to clean up I go. </span>HSBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14777671812338203740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3714710739320616201.post-91915633460760147022011-12-05T19:13:00.001-08:002012-10-23T15:42:39.296-07:00Is it possible to overdose on adventure?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Twenty-eleven started out like any other normal year for me: lots of work in perspective at a fast-growing, culturally-intense, highly successful Canadian software company; weekly or at least bi-weekly business trips to New York City and other destinations of varying degrees of excitement; and a few personal trips ranging from weekends to week-long adventures. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As it turns out, 2011 surpassed even 2007 (my previous record travel year) for the number of trips I took. I have one more planned to wrap up the year: the annual Christmas vacation south, with Mom & Dad. Oh - and yes, at least one more business trips, perhaps two, between now and the end of the year.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So - before I forget - where did I go this year?</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir67yCL_YnJrVyD5DxURBBfcTUo29zugpyMUpSHYbS_pDn-ZnvJkc18BR9TYScP1YoQOeHEgZWGp1yQSaamX6qpHeQ-u-5x9KhRVaGqN4uw-2G12j_aAvTj89hMHe1PnLIlUA6tCYYbI0q/s1600/DSCF0202.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir67yCL_YnJrVyD5DxURBBfcTUo29zugpyMUpSHYbS_pDn-ZnvJkc18BR9TYScP1YoQOeHEgZWGp1yQSaamX6qpHeQ-u-5x9KhRVaGqN4uw-2G12j_aAvTj89hMHe1PnLIlUA6tCYYbI0q/s200/DSCF0202.JPG" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKlYqIyoFyI3bGsEo1INxyaWB7LC-e7K_UM3fcrfC88Z32y7CyEwrftbWd5Ieci95pwJTgxZlnONK2p6w-cUMGkldirUtljjIPkdMm-RhbL4Wo3Tz3h0AolDUBK9Y-ITBokmu2M3uC1FPV/s1600/DSCF0460.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKlYqIyoFyI3bGsEo1INxyaWB7LC-e7K_UM3fcrfC88Z32y7CyEwrftbWd5Ieci95pwJTgxZlnONK2p6w-cUMGkldirUtljjIPkdMm-RhbL4Wo3Tz3h0AolDUBK9Y-ITBokmu2M3uC1FPV/s200/DSCF0460.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">February: business trip to Zurich, which included one day of skiing in Davos</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">April: ski week in Vail, Co</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">April: Spring Diva Camp, cycling camp with TotalCyclist, in Beaufort, SC</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">May: 4 days in Southern California, with the Divas, for the Amgen Tour of California</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">June: 24-hour trip to Philadelphia, for the TD Bank Philadelphia International Cycling Championship</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">June: day trip to... Milton, On (40Km from Toronto), for the Canadian Road Cycling Championships - ok, not a major trip, but still a fun adventure</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">July: 4-day weekend with Mom & Dad in Vail, Co</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">July: business trip to London, which included a weekend in Paris coinciding with the final stage of the Tour de France</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">September: Labor Day weekend visiting friends in Chapel Hill, NC</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">September: long weekend in Quebec City and Montreal, for the Grand Prix Cyclistes World Tour races (and a visit home to Mom & Dad)</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">October: Fall Diva Camp, cycling camp with TotalCyclist, in Jefferson National Forest, Virginia </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://blog.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hsb/10/1318805842/tpod.html" target="_blank">Read about Fall Diva Camp in Virginia - it was fantastic!</a></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">November: one week trip to visit friends in Tokyo, Kyoto, and Mie-Ken, Japan</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">December: weekend trip to Austin, Tx, to celebrate my friends' 25th anniversary</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">December: week-long trip to Cancun with Mom & Dad for Christmas</span></li>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-6xB4HxC0aZ3kvhmvXVSwI2D-sbeTcws3g2Q75M41BUKv2AMC3_se7HjZtlJSjvl42nipbJAmh6VUBhjPVuWG9z8Z5qG6p0hObnocvxINU7v_TgPxRU6wBHatQoWwBtFrFM8BekLhGEuv/s1600/DSCF0334.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-6xB4HxC0aZ3kvhmvXVSwI2D-sbeTcws3g2Q75M41BUKv2AMC3_se7HjZtlJSjvl42nipbJAmh6VUBhjPVuWG9z8Z5qG6p0hObnocvxINU7v_TgPxRU6wBHatQoWwBtFrFM8BekLhGEuv/s320/DSCF0334.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Plus weekly or bi-weekly trips to New York City, and occasionally to Madison, Wi, to visit clients and make sure we're progressing as planned on large, business-critical, software implementations at financial services and insurance companies.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I will finish the year with nearly 110 flights, Super-Elite status with Air Canada confirmed for 2012. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was a great year. Fantastic, in fact. Almost every adventure involved a great set of friends, different almost on every trip. I got to explore new ground, undertake new challenges, meet new people, try new foods, and laugh! I laughed at myself a few times, but mainly, I had the kind of year where I could laugh with pure joy and delight at the wonderful experience that is my life. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you're thinking, "alright, enough already, stop rubbing it in", I apologize. I don't mean in the least to be rubbing it in. If anything, this is my acknowledgement of the following things:</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhts3N6__1X8_XB-VaVsWhjy0NtAII3Bc8w4ljAcdNkgQCti3MoRmznfk2HohneVK2NJc5ZXX4e9SCMvrsbqMynG18p99N5BeTQwujBijBUXBJ2Qe61KkGnn9zhXzh6sHiVhT_yxziJMB6/s1600/DSCF0275.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhts3N6__1X8_XB-VaVsWhjy0NtAII3Bc8w4ljAcdNkgQCti3MoRmznfk2HohneVK2NJc5ZXX4e9SCMvrsbqMynG18p99N5BeTQwujBijBUXBJ2Qe61KkGnn9zhXzh6sHiVhT_yxziJMB6/s200/DSCF0275.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am bloody lucky</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2011 was unique</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am tired!</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The best adventures and trips were the ones shared with friends - the other ones should have been shared with friends</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I still feel bad about not being able to visit a friend in Geneva - I just couldn't fit it all in</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Adrenaline and endorphins are addictive; traveling is an adrenaline rush for me, and releases a whole bunch of endorphins; traveling less will lead to withdrawal symptoms</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Picking fewer destinations for 2012 is already proving difficult</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I hope friends will come visit me in 2012!</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Friendships extend beyond borders, time, cultures, work and family obligations; every once in a while, it's important to renew the bonds, get together and share some smiles</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Did I mention that I know I'm bloody lucky?</span></li>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So here's to 2011, and planning for new adventures in 2012. Within another month or so, I should have fairly well-defined plans. I'll be happy to share them :-)</span></div>
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HSBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14777671812338203740noreply@blogger.com0