Dehydration is nothing if not humbling. Being humbled is nothing if not humbling. The day's weather on my 75th ascent of Mount Sentinel this year was nothing if not humbling.
95 degrees and windless, Thursday's outing challenged the dynamic tension between heat and water retention. With every labored breathe I could feel my body's water content evaporating. Like a watermelon in a food dehydrator, my body was tormented as it lamented the loss of its vital liquid.
From the outset of the 75th ascent, I felt invincible: strong, swift, steady and focused. These are the elements that, when experienced in excess, can take a person from self-assuredness straight to hubris. I am unstoppable and unflappable! This jump from self-assuredness to grand control over all is not so much a slippery slope as a concave precipice: it unequivocally ends in a crash.
Life, in its fullness, is quick to remind us of our limits. I failed to adjust my standard pace on account of the heat. 15 minutes in and halfway to the summit my body's water resources were depleted: dehydration had determined that I would be a vessel of its moisture vacuity on this day. So it goes. And so it went.
Unwilling to accept that something like heat could affect my performance, I pushed on, on pace for the standard 30 minute ascent. A few minutes later I was standing on the summit. The heat had vanquished the precious life-sustaining goodness called water. It won handedly. Bad decisions rarely yield good results. This instance was no exception.
Nausea set in. Stomach cramps took hold. A slight twinge in the fore of my head portended of aches to come. As usual, I did not linger on the summit. I headed down at a brisk pace wishing away all of the symptoms that had developed (I also quietly harangued myself for the poor decision making that had gotten me to this point).
The descent, as usual, was also uneventful, save for the sickness that had settled in. To distract myself, I remained focused on the prize: a drinking fountain at the base of the mountain. 30 minutes later, I found myself where I started, sucking down copious amounts of water from the drinking fountain. I counted my blessings, stretched and hopped on my bike for a short ride home.
I had been in this place - dehydration and heat exhaustion - many times before during my ultra-marathon running days. I imbibed 20 ounces of Gatorade and 40+ ounces of water upon getting home. The story does not get any more interesting from this point. In fact, it probably peaked on top of the mountain. I recovered quickly and feel like a million bucks again, etc. etc.
All right. So. At the Mount Sentinel Trailhead, before heading up, I noticed a small index card tacked to general notice board. On it read: "#5000 to the top of mount sentinel, RLS, 05/25/2013". If I am reading this correctly, RLS, whomever that is, completed their 5000th summit of Mount Sentinel this week. That is mind-blowing! We are talking on average 100 summits a year for 50 years or 200 summits a year for 25 years. Unbelievable! This new information, was immediately humbling, reminding me that my goal of 100 summits of Mount Sentinel in 2013 was, in the world of serious hikers and athletes, peanuts. It was a drop in the bucket in the grand scheme of things.
Any delusion of grandeur, of being great or exceptional this day, the 75th ascent, was quickly brought into check by the elements, God's realm, and by human performance, God's other realm. This isn't to say that I really considered myself great, but I did consider the objective unique to me. My goal was based solely on my abilities post-RA. And, it lives a balance that includes family, friends, work and other hobbies. The elements and humans will always challenge that fine line between self-assuredness and hubris.
We ought to do things for our own betterment in the context of a community. Without that grounding, that context, we are simply tinkering with the status quo of self-gratification and are liable to die - both physically and spiritually - from heat exhaustion and competition.
The moral of this post: drink more water, exercise in the heat smartly and never compare yourself to others, especially those that are known to you only by mysterious index cards.
Onward and upward,
Brian
Sunday, July 28, 2013
Monday, July 22, 2013
A year ago today: vin-dit, wampeters and kingfishers
"...vin-dit, a Bokononist word meaning a sudden, very personal shove in the direction of believing that God Almighty knew all about me, after all, that God Almighty had some pretty elaborate plans for me." KV from Cat's Cradle
A year ago today, I had a conversation that changed my life.
The place: Placid Lake (aptly named). The people: Aaron McPeck and Linds Sanders.
A year ago yesterday, I opted to sleep under the stars next to the glowing embers of a dimming campfire. This, over a cozy space in the tent with Aaron and Linds. The decision to sleep outside had everything to do with the yen for open air, a big sky and solitude.
A year ago today, a calm, crisp dawn greeted us, setting the stage for a comfortable, relaxed morning. Eager to get a line in the water and pass the morning throwing some casts, I headed down to the beach area near our campsite to scope out the water. To my surprise, I was not the first to seek the serenity of the morn. Linds had set up shop on the beach with a journal and book. My initial reaction, as it is in all cases when you are seeking solitude of any kind, was something like discouragement: I was not alone.
As it happened - as it was supposed to happen, Bokonon would say - I noticed Linds scanning the edge of the water eagerly in the direction opposite of me. She was rapt. My curiosity was piqued. I dispensed with my fishing plans and walked over to where Linds was seated to see what there was to see. She greeted me with a smile that quickly affirmed my decision. We exchanged morning niceties and got down to business: what's out there? what was she watching so intently?
A kingfisher, as it turns out. A kingfisher! She went on to tell me about their call, how they hunt and where they live. I heard the call first. We waited. Then, with the precision of a Blue Angel, the bird launched from its perch some 100-150 yards away and flew the tangent, diving, diving, diving. It penetrated the water as if there were nothing but a superficial border between two geo-political realms. Water and sky, where one begins and the other ends is of no matter to the kingfisher, on one side of the line lives prey and on the other no prey. There was a momentary pause, the ripples dissipating, before the country-less bird emerged victorious, fish in beak. It returned to its perch, quarry in possession, and resumed its call.
As captivating as the scene was, Linds and I were lost in conversation. Highlights, of course. Family. Friends. Hiking. Running. Kayaking. Religion. Bucket list birds: kingfisher and the pileated woodpecker. Health. Even the kingfisher couldn't put on a show spectacular enough to draw our attention away from each other. The conversation came easily and joyfully. It was life-giving. We heard each other say things that we felt, but had never expressed before. We laughed, we smiled, we sighed.
A year ago today, Linds and I began a forever conversation.
Onward and upward,
Brian
P.S. In other news, 22 days into July, I am sitting at 26,500 vertical feet for the month and feeling like a million bucks! Last week, I got up Mount Helena 3 times and Mount Sentinel twice. I love Mount Helena. That is a nice mountain.
Sunday, July 14, 2013
Pikes Peak or Bust (in pictures)
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| "Nothing great was ever achieved without enthusiasm. The way of life is wonderful: it is by abandonment." - Ralph Waldo Emerson, from "Circles" |
A week ago today, Linds and I returned from something of a pilgrimage to Colorado Springs. Truth-to-tell, the trip was a trip, a vacation, a break from routine. I say "something like a pilgrimage" because the 'trip' included two days on Pikes Peak, one of the richest chapters of this short life.
The trip in pictures...
Chapter 1 - Christmas in July (kind of):
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| The week included a lot of cooking (and eating!) with the my nephew Caleb and niece Ashlyn. |
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| Not our kids! Hanging out at the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo with the kiddos (Wallabies in background). |
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| Another zoo shot with Mom and Ashlyn. |
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| Stare down. |
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| A couple of kissing fools under the 'kissing camels' in Garden of the Gods during a circumnavigation of the park. |
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| Self-portrait at the trail head for Pikes Peak (~6,200 feet). |
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| A reading companion at Barr Camp, our camp for the night. |
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| Classic Barr Camp shot (2013)! It was a treat to show Linds this chapter of my life (when I was a caretaker at Barr).
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| Early morning snack break on the trail (~12,500 feet) |
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| Headed to 'the cirque' (~13,000 feet) |
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| On the summit of Pikes Peak (14,115 feet) |
And that's it. Life is good. In addition to spending some quality time with my brother, sister-in-law, niece, nephew, mom and dad, Linds and had the pleasure of visiting briefly with my friend Jason and his wife Tiffany and gormandizing with Cody, Beth, Simon and Greta Lillstrom. It was a jam-packed, fireworksless 4th of July, but gosh, it was preciously what it was: life lived.
Onward and upward,
Brian
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
Life is a freaking miracle
"And how should we behave during the Apocalypse? We should be unusually kind to one another, certainly. But we should also stop being so serious. Jokes help a lot. And get a dog, if you don't already have one." Kurt Vonnegut (closing of a speech written by KV, delivered two weeks after KV's death by his son)
From my second floor perch over NE 40th St. in the University District of Seattle, the following is apparent:
- I miss Linds
- It is raining, it has always been raining and it will always be raining
- Related: people walk faster in the rain (in spite of Mythbusters work on the subject)
- Ben and Jerry's 'Cookie Dough' ice cream is freaking delicious
- I ate too much Pho (a lot) and too many cream puffs (2) today
- It is still raining
- I am thankful for shelter and warmth
- I am grateful for the ability to breath, laugh and feel a sense of longing for what is true (and real)
- Kurt Vonnegut Jr. and I are kindred spirits
- Life is a freaking miracle
Life is a freaking miracle. Three weeks ago, I took a blood test specific to RA that tests for a variety of markers that are known indicators of active inflammation. The test, Vectra DA, takes those 12 markers and pumps out a single score that provides a snapshot of a person's RA activity. Last spring, I tested a 46, the low-end severe inflammation. A year later? 13. Thirteen! A score that puts me within the normal range. Dr. English shared that this one-year quantum leap was the single greatest improvement she has seen in her time ordering the test. Unbelievable! How does that happen!? This Vectra DA test marks 6-months flare-up free with consistently normal labs.
If this isn't nice, I don't know what is.
Onward and upward,
Brian
Thursday, June 20, 2013
Just engaged!
"In these bodies we will live, in these bodies we will die, where you invest your love, you invest your life." Mumford and Sons
June 9th, 2013 ~6:45AM: On bended knee, soundtracked by the otherworldly falsetto of Jonsi of Sigur Ros on the summit of Stuart Peak with a Montana sapphire ring from Studio Pandora in hand, I asked Linds Sanders to be my life partner.
The plan to propose to Linds on the summit of Stuart Peak was conceived of early on in our dating relationship. In October of 2012, after two months of dating, it was clear to me that Linds was "the one". Whether or not I was her "one" early on, I suppose, is now moot. I got her! I really mean this in a joking sense. We were - and still are - positively smitten with each other. On a routine hike up Mount Sentinel in October, I looked out and up the Rattlesnake valley towards Stuart Peak. A domed peak of about 8,000 feet, Stuart Peak is the most striking feature of the Rattlesnake Wilderness as seen from Missoula. What's more, Stuart Peak is Linds' favorite mountain and the destination of one of our first dates. An easy choice.
No less than a mountaintop proposal would do, as a symbol of what we had quickly become for each other: a vantage point from which to see the rest of the world. Immediately, my Dad's event planning instincts kicked in: as a rule, Christiansons do nothing half-assed. More than a mountaintop proposal I greatly desired to contrive a scene that normally does not exist on top of semi-remote mountains. I wanted to create an unforgettable, somewhat improbable, scenario that simultaneously demonstrated my commitment to Linds through action: I would carry a table and chairs up the mountain to create the most beautiful dining we might experience.
So the proposal plan was hatched.
By the end of April, marriage had become part of everyday conversation for Linds and I. It was inevitable. It was just a matter of when…the element of surprise remained in my favor. Linds and I, true to our busy selves, scheduled out our summer hikes in early May. I was quick to put a Stuart Peak hike - under the guise of revisiting the mountain in the new year together for the first time - on the calendar for early June.
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| En route to camp on the shoulder of Stuart Peak. |
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| Sunrise over the east ridge of Stuart Peak. Linds in the foreground. |
The soft glow of dawn greeted us at 4:45 the following morning. Calm, clear and high 40s, the day was, by mountain standards, perfect. We prepared hot drinks, packed for the summit hike and set off around 5:30AM. The sun welcomed us within minutes over the east ridge of Stuart Peak just as we gained the south ridge of the mountain. We took several pictures along the way as the sun threatened to swallow us in its splendid light.
Roughly one-hundred feet below the summit, I paused, turned to Linds and asked her to look at her watch, wait five minutes, then follow me to the summit. Somewhat befuddled, but welcoming the rest, she obliged. I took off for the summit!
Summit reached, I scrambled - struggled really - to unload the contents of my pack: a fold-up table, two camp chairs, iPod speakers/iPod, sparkling grape juice, champagne flutes and, of course, the ring. So flustered by anticipation was I, setting everything up without breaking anything became my primary objective. The scene was utterly thrilling: endless mountain ranges as far as the eye dare view, sun ensconcing the summit and surrounding peaks and the love of my life five minutes away. Hurriedly, I set up the table, tablecloth, chairs and music. I cued up 'Untitled #4' from Sigur Ros' Untitled album and maxed out the volume, coating the landscape with a layer of post-rock transcendence.
The scene was set.
A sense of peace came over me as I seated myself in front of the table setting. Ring in hand, it was done. The planning that began nine months prior had come to fruition. I watched as Lind's came over the horizon line and neared my seated position. She dropped her pack and sat next to me. I don't recall what I said exactly or how she responded. After a minute or two of sitting, I sat up, raised to one knee, turned to Linds and asked her to marry me. Tears of joy were released. For both of us the wait was over. After a couple of moments of tears, she responded "yes, of course I will".
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| Toasting to the engagement on top of Stuart Peak. |
After spending about an hour and a half on the summit, we packed up and headed down to explore the lakes before returning to camp and returning to our friends, families and communities to share the news!
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| Jumping for joy on the summit of Stuart Peak! |
Onward and upward,
Brian
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
Circles
"Our life is an apprenticeship to the truth, that around every circle another can be drawn; that there is no end in nature, but every end is a beginning; that there is always another dawn risen on mid-noon, and under every deep a lower deep opens." Ralph Waldo Emerson (from 'Circles')
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| Daniel Mast - 05.21.2013 (Photo I took of Dan in 2005) |
The mountain: Monday afternoon I received a call from my climbing friend Phil with an offer that I could not refuse: he would cover the cost of climbing Denali, if I could swing the trip in 2014. Already cleared for leave from work and mentally prepped for climbing Denali in 2014, the final, unavoidable hurdle was money. With a career in the not-for-profit world, money is something that I never expect to have in abundance. Of course, I said "yes" to Phil's offer. I won't embarrass Phil here, nor will I exhaust the reader with endless exhortation of Phil's gracious gift - that would be poor form - but I will say this: I am forever indebted to Phil for his friendship and financial support to make this shared dream come true.
This is one of those life moments - like true love or companionship - where a set of seemingly unrelated variables reveal themselves as truly related and, in fact, are not variables at all. Suddenly, a sense of order and purpose becomes clear and the series of events threatens to substantiate claims of a 'master plan', 'fate' or God. A series of fortunate events. Phil and I came along at this moment in time to meet, enjoy a sense of kinship and fulfill a shared dream: Denali. Giddiness upwells within me at the mere thought!
The valley: Tuesday afternoon, moments after getting off the phone with Phil discussing registration for the Denali trip, Jackie, a friend from photography school called, notifying me that Dan Mast, a friend and classmate of ours from school, died that morning as a result of a fall he took at a construction site. The news was shocking. Inexplicable and awful and tragic and without rationale, I simply cannot imagine the hurt and pain felt by his wife, kids, family and closest friends. Survived by an expecting wife and two little ones, Dan left behind not only an incredible family unit, but a gaping hole in the hearts of all who had the pleasure of knowing him.
Coming from the perspective of an endurance athlete, what struck me most about Dan was his high pain tolerance and uncanny knack for understatement, which gave one the impression that Dan would, without question, live forever (and I hope now, more than ever, that heaven might be real and that statement is true - heaven exists for people like Dan). Dan was seemingly unflappable in spirit. Often, he carried on his face a mischievous grin alerting his friends of an imminent slap on the back or practical joke. On the other side of the coin, Dan was uncompromisingly gentle in spirit and a firm man of integrity. Dan possessed an unbridled zest for life that I have seen in few others.
I would be remiss if I didn't mention Dan's passion made profession: photography. He had the rare gift of capturing a person's true spirit on film by drawing out their subtle personality traits. Half grins, forced smiles and even wrinkles were no match for Dan's charisma. Native American lore and the bastardization of Native American myths regarding photography may have had some merit with Dan: he may have been stealing our souls all along. At minimum, hearts, that much is for certain. Dan stole the hearts of kith and kin and will be sorely missed.
Here's to Dan and the joy that he conferred upon those who had the pleasure of knowing him. Rest in peace, Dan. Thoughts and prayers go out to Dan's family and friends.
Onward and upward,
Brian
Sunday, May 19, 2013
Doing the Right Thing
"Do nothing in haste, look well to each step, and from the beginning think what may be the end." - Edward Whymper, 'Scrambles Amongst the Alps'
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Linds and I on top of a wet Mount Sentinel for the 55th
summit of the mountain in 2013.
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The last two week have been dominated by extreme indecision: to climb Mount McKinley in 2014 or not. The question is more nuanced than a single, simple yes or no (hence the indecision).
Yes, I do want to climb Mount McKinley.
Yes, I am willing (and my employer is amenable) to take 3-4 weeks off of work in 2014.
Yes, I understand the risks.
No, I do not have the money!
Truthfully, it is the money that has kept me on the fence and noncommittal. Total cost of the expedition (with guide service, gear and transportation) comes in at around $9,500. At this stage, my registration has been accepted for a 2014 Mount McKinley expedition with RMI, but the very real and wholly impossible to ignore fact remains: I don't have the money!
The reality is, and I went into the mountains to seek clarity this weekend, it simply isn't in the cards in 2014. With a mad desire to marry the woman of my dreams within the next year or so and the wish to do McKinley the right way, I am going to have to postpone at least a year.
The biggest draw of McKinley 2014 was to climb with a Phil Goss, something of a climbing soulmate. I met Phil on Mount Rainier back in September. With a shared childlike wonder and astonishment for all things beautiful, Phil and I found ourselves the first two climbers out-of-doors every morning while on the mountain (around 6AM), writing poems and taking photos, respectively. We became fast friends. On Rainier, we spoke of doing McKinley together in 2014 with Rainier Mountaineering, Inc. He is staying steady the course and registered for the climb this last week. I will be there every step of the way rooting him on in spirit!
All is not lost. Phil and are now looking at climbing Granite Peak, Montana's high point, in August. It will be a splendid reunion. Although Mount McKinley isn't in my immediate, it is in Phil's and I couldn't be more happy for him. Mount McKinley 2015? Yes, please. In the meantime, I will be slowly procuring the requisite gear to get up the mountain. First purchase? Made this weekend: a McKinley size, 105 liter expedition pack.
Onward and upward!
Brian
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