One of our goals, as we travel, is to find reasons to fall in love with the places we visit. We’ve flirted with a few places along the way, but in each case ultimately decided “It’snotyou…it’sme, butwecanstillbefriends, right?” Late in the day on Easter Sunday we found ourselves at an overlook on the top of John’s Mountain in northwest Georgia, about 30 minutes outside Chattanooga. Along with a group of high school kids, we looked out across a lush valley. As the sun dropped behind a distant ridge, one of the girls in the group said, “When I think that the same amazing God that gave us all this (motioning to the valley, ridges, and sunset) decided that I needed to be in the world also…it just blows me away!” A profound, if unexpected observation from a young lady we assumed was part of a group just looking for a place to party.
Not far from that lookout, we spent one of our best nights of our trip. Except for a deranged whippoorwill, we camped in peaceful solitude along a small creek, deep in the Georgia woods.
A good portion of the next day was occupied hiking the ridges, valleys, and waterfalls of Cloudland Canyon State Park. The views and the workout were much appreciated.
After a fair amount of discussion, we decided our next stop would be at a state park east of Chattanooga. While we much preferred free camping, its convenient location would allow us better opportunities to get acquainted with this intriguing southern belle. On the way, we made a slight detour to Chickamauga battlefield. The exhibits and movie offered excellent insights into this important and costly civil war battle. I’m always amazed that if not for a bad decision here, miscommunication there, lack of information generally – any one of these civil war battles – even the war itself might have had a very different outcome.
We spent the next few days getting to know Chattanooga and the surrounding area. This corner of our country has much to recommend it. Enterprise park has highly entertaining mountain bike trails, lovely picnic areas, as well as dedicated hiking and equestrian trails. The downtown area offers a beautiful Riverwalk along the Tennessee River. Wednesday afternoon we enjoyed food and beverages at one of the local microbrews with Cathy and Bob. Also retired, we’d met this delightful couple from Orlando at the campground. Later that evening we joined a group of paddlers as they made their weekly pilgrimage out to an island in the middle of the river. As we enjoyed a beer and got to know the colorful and welcoming members of this group, one thing was clear. Every single person was passionate about his or her love of this active, vibrant, outdoorsy community.
Coolidge Park and the Tennessee River from the pedestrian bridge
Biking on the Riverfront trail
College rowing team practicing on the Tennessee River below the pedestrian bridge.Downtown ChattanoogaOur newest friendsSharon and some of our ‘Nooga paddling friends
Well played Tennessee, well played. And to all you Tennesseans who made our stay such a pleasure “Thank you!” We’ve fallen in love with your little corner of the world. And as all the paddlers were eager to point out…we barely scratched the surface. We will definitely be back.
The first leg of our Friends and Family Tour in retirement was to Florida for Karen’s 80th birthday. My dream was to stop along the way in Arlen, Texas to meet Hank, Peggy, and Bobby Hill. Maybe chat with Hank about propane and propane accessories. Then move on to the great state of Alabama, to Greenbow, Alabama to meet Forrest Gump. My ultra running hero…………turns out they are all fictional characters. Thanks reality for crushing my dreams. So now what? Well, we still had a birthday party to go to. While I am definitely not a big fan of driving long distances, the math was pretty straightforward, 2,400 miles in six days meant four hundred miles per day. So Friday we said farewell to a houseful of our Flagstaff friends. Sunday we said farewell to our church family and pointed the 4Runner east.
A long day one took us southeast of Amarillo down a deserted road.
1st restful night in our 4Runner luxury “RV”
Prior to this trip my only experience with Texas was an Interstate across the panhandle. We actually rather liked Texas. Although a current Texas resident and friend of Sharon’s thought they might not embrace my suggestion for a new state motto. “Texas – doesn’t suck as much as I thought!” And with the exception of the puzzling Dallas/Fort Worth roadway system, we found plenty to like in Texas.
Our hearts were set on using our narrow window of free time to explore Louisiana, so we ended our 2nd long day of driving at Chicot state park. Unlike anything we’d ever seen.
We were the only campers in a very, very soggy state park. Cue the banjo music? Nah. It was lovely!
Paddling through the cypress swamp was otherworldly. We were treated to an amazing variety of both new and familiar birds. Sharing the swamp with alligators was by far the coolest…and spookiest part of our day. It’s easy to ascribe feelings and personality to other animals. Alligators are soul less, stone cold killers. While we were watching one swim by up ahead, an unseen gator about five feet to my right did a massive “I don’t want you here” splash/thrash. I just recently managed to unclench my butt cheeks!
Cuddly little gator chillaxin
We spent an interesting few days roaming around one small corner of Louisiana, sampling the swamps and tasty sausage known as boudin (thanks for the suggestion Steve and Michelle).
Another night of free camping on a levee along the banks of the Atchafalaya river.Enjoying adult beverages in our custom retirement cups…thanks Glenn.
It still hasn’t sunk in that we are retired. In spite of several pleasant travel days across the south, and several pleasant days with family here in Florida, it still feels like we’re on a vacation. A vacation, that like all other vacations that have come before, must inevitably come to an end. But not today. Today we celebrate the completion of Karen’s 80th trip around the sun. We’ll think about tomorrow, and any other tomorrows…tomorrow.
I’ve already made it pretty clear that we love living in Flagstaff. Draw a six hour travel circle around Flagstaff. Within that circle you will find several “trip of a lifetime” National Parks, the red rocks of Sedona, the San Juan mountains of SW Colorado, world class mountain biking, rivers to float, mountains to climb, and trails to explore. If you stretch the six hours a wee bit, you also get the Pacific Ocean. Right here at home we have our own mountain, running and mountain bike trails, and a community crazy in love with those activities. We love Flagstaff!
Throughout history though, inquiring minds have yearned to discover what lies “beyond”. As much as we enjoy all there is to enjoy in our own little six hour circle, we also yearn to discover what lies “beyond”. We’ve already done lots of exploring in our first half-century (plus) of trips around the sun. Turns out there are still quite a few blank spots on the map. I’ll be honest though, my bias toward mountains and canyons leads to somewhat negative preconceived notions of what lies “beyond” in many of those blank spots.
So here’s the challenge. Sharon and I have determined that we would not let our preconceived notion of places determine where we go – or more importantly – how we see the places we go. Clearly, lots of people live in and love parts of the country (and world) that we might never consider either living in or loving. We have decided that as we travel, we want to try to find what it is about a place that people love. We want to find the things that would make us fall in love with some place we’ve never been. We’d like to meet the people, eat the food, experience the way of life, find the little pockets of beauty wherever they exist, and fall in love with a place. We’d like your help. We’d love it if you’d reach out to us in some way and let us know what you love about your little corner of paradise and why you love it.
I’ll be writing about what we find in our upcoming travels. Sign up below if you’d like email notifications when new posts are added. And thanks in advance for your help.
Because of Sharon’s work at the hospital, and the need to put in vacation requests well in advance, every fall we’ve had to plan our vacation schedule for the following year. Every year we comb through our list of possible adventures, and then pare it down to the bare minimum. Typically we realize we need about 87 vacation days. Sadly, neither of us has such a generous employer. So after many years of scrimping, saving and working hard, our adventures will no longer be limited by the number of our vacation days. In early April we will begin seizing the carp full time!
Early on we decided that the “van life” lifestyle would suit us perfectly. We’ve spent years researching the different options. And now, as retirement looms, we still haven’t pulled the trigger. While Sharon and I agree on the basic concept, we may have a slight difference of opinion when it comes to the execution.
For example, given our love of wild places, this seems like the perfect vehicle to the more rational members of our family. Others, however, insist on calling this “ugly!” and refuse all attempts at reason.
Much discussion has centered on desirable interior features – usually heavily influenced by anti-husband sites like Pinterest.
Then, there’s the reality of what we can realistically afford…
…and the type of camping we actually prefer.
With so many competing interests, so many choices, my absolute hatred of vehicle buying, some uncertainty in the stock market, time demands of work, etc., here we are a month away from retirement sans “adventure van.” What do to? A few years ago we took a road trip to southern Utah in the 4Runner with a sleeping platform in back that I’d built as an experiment. It worked well enough that we’ve made use of several times since. Given the nature of our first road trip visiting lots of family and friends, we decided that with a few minor modifications, our trip will be with “Bumpy” – Oliver’s name for our trusty 2008 Toyota.
This might also be a good time to mention once again how fortunate I am to be married to an amazing woman. Someone who actually prefers to sleep under the stars or in a tent in remote locations. Someone who views sleeping in the back of a 4Runner not as “roughing it”, but as rather luxurious! Yeah – I scored big time!
Camping on the north rim the night before a Rim to Rim hike. Not having a frosty tent to break down in the morning made for a quick and easy start.
Toyota camping in southern Utah in late November. Normally we’d opt for our tent, but for the purposes of scientific research, we spent a long weekend sleeping inside. Pretty comfy and cozy!
With the platform, there is quite a bit of storage underneath. As always, inquiring minds want to know…would it be possible to remove the rear seat to add some storage? Eight bolts later the answer is – yes! Quite easily in fact. Thank you Mr. Toyota. That bit of extra space will come in quite handy.
Back seat and all attendant hardware completely gone.
Dramatic increase in storage space without the seats. The piece of wood on top is hinged and flips forward to provide me with additional length.
With the platform above the wheel wells, we have a comfortably wide mattress to sleep on.
We’re expecting that this trip will yield a treasure trove of information to help us decide which vehicle will best suit us long term. We may decide Bumpy is all we need. It may lead us to expedite our search for a van. Either way we’re looking forward to the adventure. So one more month. Time to give our elder Bumpy a little shop love to take care of some oily incontinence and other age related issues. Time to dial in our gear list and packing plan. Then – time to begin seizing the carp – full time.
Duane and Jennie were friends of my aunt and uncle, and they were really cool adults. For starters, they didn’t treat me like a kid, even though I was in 6th or 7th grade. Every morning Duane would leave the little enclave of cottages clustered on the shores of a central Wisconsin lake and head out for a bike ride…and then roll back in several hours later! I was in awe! Then one day he invited me and my nerdy Schwinn Collegiate to join him for a 20 or 30 mile ride. I had no idea such a thing was even possible. Yet, with his help I did it several times! That same summer Duane taught me the basics of sailing his little AMF Minifish sailboat, and even better, gave me permission to take it out any time. Duane was just sharing things he loved with some kid he saw one or two weeks each summer while I visited my aunt and uncle at their cottage. He had no way of knowing what an impact he would have on my life.
Looking back on it now, I can see a direct link from those early days sailing around Fish Lake to my lifelong love affair with sailing, and all water related travel. It took a while, but I’ve owned and enjoyed three different sailboats, plus a number of other water craft. Additionally, a lifetime of cycling…commuting, racing, triathlons, mt biking, touring – including a two month bike tour up the east coast of the U.S. and into the maritime provinces of Canada all can be traced back to those first rides with Duane.
My first sailboat…a Renken 18. My sailing mentor Luther Spaude ready for another outing on Lake Michigan. Hard to say which one of us enjoyed it more.
My 2nd boat – much better suited to sailing on Lake Michigan. Alas – not quite as well suited to life in Arizona.
Arizona may not be an ideal sailing location, but offers lots of opportunities to mess about in boats. The transition from sail to human power was a natural one.
Father’s Day float with Aaron on the San Juan River.
My trusty Schwinn Collegiate. It had no idea it was not a Tour de France racer/long distance tourer.
The perfect way to travel 2,500 miles across 11 states and provinces.
Taking a break from the rigors of the road. Recent photos definitely show the toll gravity takes. All my hair has migrated south, as well as significant amounts of flesh.
North Rim ride
This all came up in a conversation recently. Sharon and I were talking about people who have touched our lives, the possible impact we’ve had on other people, and the realization that it is not always possible to know when, or how, something we say or do may have an impact on someone. Duane’s example certainly highlighted for me the importance of looking for opportunities to “pay forward” some of what others had done for me.
Dan has climbed Rainier more times than I can count, and twice I accompanied him. In 2013 Dan and I made plans to lead a group of good friends – noobs all – to the top of Rainer, and then a year later to Mt. Baker. It is always enjoyable spending time in the mountains with Sharon (of course), Cailie, Rob, Steve, Andrew and Dan. It was huge amounts of fun practicing self-arrest on the slopes of Snowbowl after hours, practicing basic crampon, ice-axe and rope management skills. We spent a great day learning crevasse self-rescue skills while hanging from the top deck of our house. Best of all was seeing this group of friends master new skills, and eventually, succeed in reaching the summit of my favorite mountain, and later, Mt Baker. Paying it forward and seeing the results was more satisfying than getting to the top myself.
Camp Crevasse…Cailie practicing crevasse self-rescue from the deck of the Treehouse.
It is important to remain calm and relaxed during a rescue.
Crevasse rescue practice near our camp on Emmons glacier.
Steve and Cailie. Food break and blister prevention on Rainier summit day.
Chicks with Picks. Sharon and Cailie showing off their Flagstaff “Sea Level Sucks” t-shirts on the summit of Rainier.
Summit day on Mt Baker.
Steve, Dan, Sharon and Cailie enjoy another Pacific Northwest volcano summit.
Unlike many women, Sharon and Cailie apparently only have one T-shirt in their wardrobe. Or else they feel very strongly that Sea Level does indeed suck!
This winter, the whole concept of “paying it forward” really hit home in a different way. While there wasn’t a great deal of training or instruction involved, my folks did get me on skis at the tender age of four – or thereabouts. I like to say that I can hardly remember a time when I didn’t know how to ski. I will forever be grateful for that experience. In turn, Sharon and I made sure all three boys were out “shredding the gnar” at the same age. We had huge amounts of fun tackling the massive 150′ vert at Little Switzerland in southern Wisconsin and many other hills over the years. Our daughter-in-law Vanessa was likewise introduced to skiing at a young age. So it follows that our grandson, at 3 1/2 is already enjoying his 3rd – yes, you read that right – his 3rd winter on skis and totally enjoys shredding the gnar! He’s also embraced his parents and grandparents love for all things outdoors.
Aaron hitting the slopes at the tender age of six or seven months.
Vanessa mastering the basics…walking with skis.
“I just felt like run-ning!”
Oliver helping crew dad’s Silverton ultra
We definitely tried to share our love for the outdoors with our children, and it is fascinating and fun to see that same passion already taking root in Oliver. Pay it forward indeed.
Oliver shredding the gnar!
Today’s takeaway: When you’re thinking about seizing the carp – think about the folks who helped you get to where you’re at, and think about paying it forward to others as well! Its kind of fun! And you never know how you’ll impact others – or the memories you’ll create.
It’s been said that you can’t live in the past. I politely disagree. A long time ago someone told me “You are who you are because of where you were then.” It was a clever way of saying that we are products of the people we’ve met, the places we’ve been, and our experiences. Even though it is now in the past, the friendships we developed, the people we met, the things we saw and experienced had a lasting impact on us. Nepal changed us. That part of our past lives on in the present.
In the previous posts, I’ve tried to provide some insights into what made Nepal special. Hopefully, a few favorite photos will engender a sense of awe and wonder for this part of our world. This first gallery contains pictures taken near the end of our trip during our climb of Imja Tse. Located in the shadow of Everest’s neighbor Lhotse, the views from on top left me speechless.
Island Peak (Imja Tse)
Ama Dablam at dawn.
Photo Credit: Joel Schenk
Glacier trail on Island Peak
Photo Credit: Joel Schenk
Lapka Sherpa minding the fixed ropes.
Photo Credit: Joel Schenk
Dan Boss and Finjo on the summit ridge.
The people, the villages, the temples, stupas, mani walls, prayer flags all offered a visual feast. Ultimately though, as lovers of high places, we had come for the mountains – and they most certainly did not disappoint.
Sunrise over Nuptse from Kala Patthar with Everest on the left. Unbelievably dramatic.
Photo Credit: Andrew Overheiser.
Renjo Pass across Gokyo Lake
Photo Credit: Andrew Overheiser
Goyko and Everest from Renjo Pass
Photo Credit: Andrew Overheiser
Moon over Cholatse
Photo Credit: Sharon Moore
Himalayan dusk.
Photo Credit: Sharon Moore
Cholatse cairns
Mountain stupa
Pumori prayer flags
Pumori wildlife
Ama Dablam.
Ama Dablam means “Mother’s necklace”; the long ridges on each side are seen as the arms of a mother (ama) protecting her child, and the hanging glacier is thought of as the dablam, the traditional double-pendant worn by Sherpa women.
Feel free reach out with any questions you might have about visiting Nepal. I/we would love to share any insights or info we have.
After planning and anticipating for close to a year, having traveled from various places in the U.S. to San Francisco in order to fly half-way around the world, having survived both the traffic in Kathmandu and the flight into Lukla…we were more than ready to finally begin hiking.
The Great Diapers and Depends Nepal Expedition outside of Namche, with – yes – Everest in the background. Dave, Joel, Dan, Cailie, Finjo, Andrew, Rob, Allison, Sharon, Nima
The Route
Given that our group was composed of people who love mountains and high places, we specifically chose a three week trip that would take us throughout the rugged area south and west of Mt Everest. All trekkers to the Everest region of Nepal start by flying into Lukla, and after two days of walking, arrive in Namche. The most popular trip from this historic village appeared to be the out and back trip to Everest Base Camp (EBC). Our trip would avoid that main trail and take us off significantly the beaten path. As we completed our meandering clockwise journey around the region, we would cross over two high passes – Renjo Pass (17,585′) and Chola Pass (17,782′). We would take a side trip north to Everest base camp, with a chance to climb Kala Patthar (18,192). Finally we would take another side trip to attempt to climb a mountain tucked into the shadow of Everest known as Island Peak (aka Imja Tse – 20,305′). In all, we would spend close to two week above 14,000′.
Everest High Passes and Peaks route
Trekking…in general
There are several options available for anyone interested in trekking in the Himalaya. A few folks found their way to Lukla by themselves. Hiking with backpacks, they either camped or made their own arrangements each night to stay in one of the many tea houses. As an alternative, Philip and Michele hired a guide and porter through Mountain Monarch to help with logistics, but followed their own itinerary. Others went with western guide companies. They had porters carry their gear, but generally had western guides and food. To a large degree, it seemed that while they passed through the region they remained separate from the local scene. Our choice was to go with a package deal from Mountain Monarch. We had a full complement of guides and porters. With the exception of base camp at Imja Tse, we ate and slept in tea houses along the way. We also followed a defined agenda, with our path, distances, rest days, etc for the most part predetermined. While we totally enjoyed our trip as it unfolded, it also would have been nice to travel using our famous “no plan” plan. If we were to do it again, we would probably follow the example of Philip and Michele. There was definitely value in having local knowledge and expertise, especially just getting through the airport to Lukla. They enjoyed a bit more freedom in deciding when and where they wanted to go.
Lodging
Trekking has become big business in the Khumbu Himal. In many villages, it appears that almost the entire economy is given over to accommodating trekkers. We were part of that. We took all our meals, and spent most nights in tea houses. In general, tea houses all have a common room, heated by a yak dung stove, where folks could hang out and where meals are served. Sleeping areas are unheated double rooms with simple platforms topped with a foam pad. Typically there is a single bathroom – dubbed the squatter – that is shared by all. While they all had similar features, that is not to say they were all the same. Some were a bit more …’polished’ than others. Some had lights, some had none. Some had carpet in the bedrooms, some had dirt floors covered with a bit of astro turf. Given the remote nature of our trip and the cold weather, even the most rustic tea house offered a relatively comfortable place to call home at the end of each day.
A new tea house being built. Most of the buildings are made with dry fit stones hand chiseled to fit. Really quite amazing.
Caile and Rob chillin’ in a typical common room. Note the yak dung stove. I doubt that Scentsy will ever offer “dried yak dung” Candles.
The common rooms offered a fascinating cross section of world travelers. Very, very few from the U.S. however.
Sharon hanging in one of the more posh tea house bedrooms. I believe this was in Phakding, only a day from Lukla.
On the trail for three weeks, a rare warm day became laundry day.
We loved the name of this tea house.
The view from our bedroom window in Namche. Just a 20,000′ peak across the way.
Drying laundry and yak dung patties…just like back home. Above tree line, yak dung is currently the main source of heat (and fuel for cooking!)
Pretty cool having lunch at a tea house in the shadow of Everest
A typical “squatter”. Once you learn how to drive one, they are actually quite nice.
Every morning we were awakened by a knock on the door and the words “Washie, washie!” and two bowls of hot water. Luxury!
Food
The food was…a bit of a challenge for us. Locals typically ate a vegetable and rice dish known as dal bhat and seemed quite content. Several times our guides turned up their noses at offers to share our western food choices. Dal bhat was fine, and we all tried it at our first group meal. Personally I would have had a hard time eating that twice a day for three weeks. The tea houses tried hard to tailor their menus to the tastes of an international population of trekkers. Given the difficulty of getting supplies to this remote region, and the unfamiliar nature of many foreign food preferences, they were actually remarkably successful. Having said that, there were also some spectacular failures. The “spaghetti” with “home made noodles” was instantly renamed “tapeworms in blood” both for the looks and taste. Since wasting food in a poor country was almost unforgivably thoughtless, and after trying several optimistically named menu items, we all learned to stick to simple, safe fare such as hard fried eggs, and various potato dishes. We recognized that our difficulty with the food had more to do with our taste and expectations than what was offered. Having said that, we all struggled to get enough calories to fuel our hike and keep us warm in the constant cold. We also agreed that the word ‘explosive’ should never, under any circumstances, ever apply to certain bodily functions. We all agreed based on experience. Enough said. We laugh about it now, but at the time it was a real challenge.
A typical “safe” meal – french fries and a fried egg.
The daily game of chance…menu roulette.
Most tea houses had a few snacks for sale…all carried from Lukla on some porter’s back.
Fried eggs with hash browns…OK. Chapati bread with jelly…safe. Steamed momos…explosive consequences!
Occasionally popcorn would magically appear – a welcome treat. The red water was euphemistically described as “tomato soup”. Once again chapati and peanut butter to the rescue.
The Trail
I believe Joel and Allison calculated after the fact, that we traveled some 160 miles during our three week trek. The trail varied from finely laid stone paths to ‘barely-there-path-wannabe’ pathways. We varied in elevation from 8,500′ a day out of Lukla to almost 18,000′ crossing over the passes. We walked in shorts for a day or two, and endured horizontal snow and well below freezing temps. We passed through humble villages and bustling trekker hot spots. We visited monasteries and met young monks texting on smartphones shortly after chanting words from ancient texts. We were treated to stunning mountain vistas while walking in the footsteps of generations of Tibetan traders and the earliest mountaineers. It was all exactly what we hoped for in a trip to Nepal.
The trail leaving Lukla honors a famous, female, Nepali Everest climber.
At times the trail ran right through a village. Always interesting.
Farming by hand…with an extremely rare satellite dish.
There are no roads in the Khumbu Himal. Everything (food, buildings supplies, trade goods) gets moved by human or animal power on the trails we all share. Obviously these guys get the right of way.
In addition to porters, yaks and mules sometimes carry cargo.
Steep trail at almost 17,000′ – heart, lungs and legs all get a good workout.
Trail to the pass
Next time: A picture speaks a thousand words. I’ll be posting some of the most dramatic pictures from our time in Nepal. Sign up below for email notification.
As we all pondered and prepared for our trip to Nepal, our main focus was on…well, the mountains. We were going to be spending three weeks wandering around in the shadow of Himalayan peaks. What we didn’t know, and hadn’t anticipated, was how much we would come to admire and appreciate the Nepalese people in general, and our guides and porters specifically.
Dawa Finjo Sherpa met us at the airport. For the next month this young man was our guide, mentor, nurse-maid, and friend. Although he was young, he had a wealth of experience in the mountains both as a climber and as a guide. He made all the arrangements for us at the various tea houses as we trekked through the countryside. He sized up our abilities and planned our route and side trips accordingly. As we all, one by one, fell prey to various lung and intestinal maladies, he reached into his bag of western and traditional remedies to nurse us back to health. Gradually as we got to know him, we were able to coax out some amazing stories. One of my favorites was about his successful Everest climb just six months prior. He had been paired with the egotistical and incompetent leader of an Albanian national team of climbers. This ‘climber’ was more than willing to let the Sherpa guides break trail, fix ropes, haul all the gear, food, oxygen, set up the tents, etc. so that he could ‘climb’ the mountain. Despite his lack of talent, this individual insisted that he be the first to reach the summit. Finjo just nodded and smiled – and dialed back his oxygen flow. As he slowed down, the rest of the team caught up and they reached the top together. Well played Finjo – well played. Now seven years later, Finjo still makes sure to wish the “Queen Mom” (Sharon) a happy birthday every year when the date rolls around. We couldn’t have asked for a better trip leader.
Finjo and Bhakta discussing strategy…or girls.
Our assistant guide Bhakta. He was my Nepal language tutor as well.
Ummm….Bhakta?
Finjo displaying yet another talent – constructing the Pillar of Pilsner.
Our trip through the Himalayas would have been very different without the porters. We were each allowed a 35 lb duffel bag with extra clothes, sleeping bag, personal gear, etc. This was in addition to our day pack. Each porter would carry TWO of these gear duffels, plus their own gear, plus a portion of the community gear. And, we found out later, no matter how far we traveled or how high we climbed on any given day, it was a point of honor for them to arrive at our destination before the clients. One thing we noticed almost immediately was there was a definite “servant – master” dynamic evident. This made us all extremely uncomfortable, especially when we saw other trekkers totally buy into that and treat their guides and porters with disrespect. In spite of all their hard work, the porters often were required to sleep outside. Our accommodations were definitely rustic, but still a far cry better than what the porters were given. Throughout the trip we tried to communicate how much we appreciated what they were doing for us, but given the language barrier it was hard to gauge our success. We regularly bought snacks and drinks for the crew, and at the very end during our farewell dinner, we made sure they were seated in the tea house so that we could serve them food and drinks. We never were able to find out what they earned for all their hard work, but we know that the tips they received from us were greater than the average annual income for a Nepali. As we were thanking them for all they did for us, they were thanking us for the privilege of schlepping our gear all over the Himalaya. The money they earn is generally used to support a large portion of their extended families. They definitely earned our admiration and respect.
One of our small, but mighty porters!
The guys taking a break at the top of a pass.
That’s 80+ pounds over an 18,000′ pass. Amazing!
These guys built the most amazing rock sculptures.
Porters along the trail
Photo: Joel Schenk
A few of our porters enjoying our farewell party.
One of our porters in particular, Santos, had a heartbreaking story. Throughout the trip, Santos was always upbeat, always had a smile, and even though we had a significant language barrier, liked to joke around with us. We found out after we’d parted ways and were back in Kathmandu that just days before our group arrived, his infant son had died. He apparently had contracted an illness that would have responded to the most basic of antibiotics. Since there were no antibiotics available in his village, his son died. Any one of us would have been immobilized with grief, or filled with anger at the unfairness…yet he did nothing to indicate he had just suffered this tremendous loss. It also saddened us to realize that regardless of his feelings, he could not pass up this financial opportunity. His work ethic and attitude, coming on the heels of that personal tragedy, left us all absolutely dumbfounded – and in awe.
Just a few days out of Lukla we stopped to spend the night in the village of Thame at about 14,000′. All afternoon, Cailie had been feeling a bit out of sorts. During the night she developed HAPE (high altitude pulmonary edema). HAPE is a life threatening condition where fluid collects in the lungs. The only treatment is to descend to lower altitude so that the fluid can reabsorb into the body. Fortunately, one of the pieces of gear that our porters carried was something called a Gamow bag (good job Mountain Monarch). All night long the porters took turns keeping the bag inflated, which made Cailie’s body think it was several thousand feet lower than our 14,000′. To be fair, it probably helped that they all had a massive crush on Cailie – but still…
A Gamow bag in action
The night in the Gamow bag improved Cailie’s condition. Still, the decision was made for Cailie and Rob to return to lower elevation for a bit, with the hopes of joining us later on the trek. So after a tearful goodbye, an assistant guide and porter walked Cailie and Rob back toward Lukla. We found out later that during the next night, Cailie’s symptoms returned. Fearing for her safety, they took turns carrying Cailie on their backs 3,000 vertical feet down a steep, rocky trail from Namche Bazaar to a lower elevation. Thanks to their efforts, Cailie and Rob made it safely back to Kathmandu and a full recovery. Once again we were in total awe and very grateful!
While most of our interactions were with the members of our group, we did meet some interesting people along the way. And while we came for the mountains, much of what we remember most fondly were the people we met along the way.
Proud grandma – not so happy child.
Chokhi and Mom at Tashi Delek tea house in Namche.
Chokhi – the undisputed queen of the Tashi Delek.
Joel and Dan’s Excellent Adventure!
Intense badminton match in Kathmandu
“Namaste!”
Next Post: The Place…Lots of photos and videos –the Himalayas were everything we hoped they’d be – and more.
The names and stories may be unfamiliar to many, but during my formative years they were the stuff of dreams. The mystery of Mallory and Irving lost on Everest, and Norgay and Hillary on the summit. Pete Schoening’s amazing ‘miracle belay’ during an avalanche high on K2 saving five other climbers from being swept off the mountain. Willi Unsoeld famously cutting off his own frostbitten and dead toes (and keeping them in a jar to show visitors). Jim Wickwire spending the night 450 feet below the summit of K2 – and surviving – after becoming the 1st American to summit! Just the names of the mountains evoke images of mystical and magical places. Chomolungma. Dhaulagiri. Nanga Parbat. Ama Dablam. Nanda Devi. Shishapangma. The Himalaya always seemed irresistably beautiful and appealing, forbidding and unattainable all at the same time.
In 2011, longtime friend and climbing partner Dan threw out the idea of spending a month in Nepal…in the Himalaya! He didn’t really expect any response, and rightly so! A month away from work? No way! Airfare to fly half way around the world? Commercial guides? I don’t think so. The Himalaya was…unattainable. Regular folks like us don’t take trips like that. But then one by one, the perceived obstacles disappeared. Turns out regular folks really can take a trip like this. By the time we boarded our flight in San Francisco in November 2012, our merry little band numbered eight. Sharon and I, Andrew, Cailie, Rob – friends from Flagstaff, Joel and Allison, and Dan Boss – our fearless leader.
Thank you Singapore Airlines for making twenty total hours in the air, if not enjoyable, at least tolerable. When we finally stepped out of the relative calm of Tribhuvan airport terminal into the chaos of Kathmandu, culture shock reached out and smacked us in the face. When absolutely everything you consider ‘normal’ goes away and the ground is figuratively shifting beneath your feet, it is hard to get your bearings.
Dan had made arrangements through Mountain Monarch. Anyone interested in trekking in Nepal has plenty of options. Many western companies feature highly paid western guides who contract with local companies to do all the leg work. It is possible, through these same companies, to have a somewhat sanitized trip – staying in tents and having western food throughout the trip. We opted to go directly with a local company and have a slightly more ‘immersive’ experience staying at the local tea houses. I’ll say right up front, we couldn’t have been happier with Mountain Monarch.
Our agenda had us spending two days in Kathmandu, and then flying to Lukla on our third day to start our trek. We spent our time seeing the sites, enjoying the food (momos), touring both buddhist and hindu sites, and prepping for three weeks on the trail.
Having survived the trip from the airport, we relaxed in our little oasis from the chaos of Kathmandu.
Small 125cc cycles were the vehicle of choice for the masses. They of course share the road with buses, cars, trucks, tractors, wagons pulled by animals, and hordes of pedestrians.
The sights and sounds and smells of the tourist district – masses of people. vehicles, vendors convoluted streets – all combined to overwhelm the senses.
Creativity abounds
Near the Hindu temple, relatives were cremated on open fires to secure their place in paradise.
Alison making new friends
At Yangling we were introduced to the heavenly delights known as momos, meat or vegetable filled dumplings, deep fried or steamed and served with a curry dipping sauce. OH MY! We’re all smiling for a reason.
Outside the tourist district it quickly became apparent that Toto wasn’t in Kansas anymore
Kathmandu was overwhelming, and choatic, and fascinating. Often we just found ourselves laughing as we tried to process the different things we were seeing. After two days, we were ready for the butt clenching ride through town back to the airport to begin the ‘real’ trip.
The flight to Lukla was everything everyone says it is. We caught our first views of the Himalaya. We survived the flight, met up with our porters and began our trek, but more on that in the next post.
I will confess to being envious of my “manly” friends when they talk about their metal working, welding, car engine rebuilding exploits. “I sewed some stuff” doesn’t have quite the same cachet. In 1830 Barthelemy Thimonnier, a French tailor, invented a machine that used a hooked needle and one thread, creating a chain stitch. It wasn’t quite recognizable as a sewing machine, but it worked well enough that Thimonnier planned to use it in his factory to make uniforms for the French army. French tailors caught wind of this turn of events. Fearing they would lose their jobs, they rioted and burned down his factory – with Thimonnier inside. Given the full-contact, life and death consequences, clearly sewing is not an activity for sissies. In fact, given its history, might one might even consider it an “extreme sport?”
Back in the late 70’s I was beginning to explore outdoor activities that often required specialized gear. Since I had very little money, I decided to join with those brave men and women before me who risked life and limb to sew garments. My first effort was a pair of down booties from Altra Kits from Boulder, CO. Next, I moved on to some really basic nylon shell jackets and pants. You have to remember this was in the era of wool – when the 60/40 nylon/cotton ‘mountain’ parka was cutting edge. During a winter trip in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area, I had the chance to show off some of my handiwork. It was probably Dan-Boss Backer who said, “Wow! That kicks ass!” Hmmm. Kicks ass…Kicks Butt…KB! Thus was born KB Gear, and now many years later, with tongue firmly in cheek – KB Extreme Gear!
My first project – still in use 39 years later.
The basic straight stitch I learned on those first projects is just about the only stitch I know – or really have needed. With that basic knowledge, I’ve managed to churn out a variety of gear – some of it actually useful and usable. Gaitors, windpants, windshells, waterproof overmitts, sleeping bags, ultralight tarps, backpacks, kilts and so on. Over the years, I’ve come up with some of my own designs, but for the most part I follow patterns. Some patterns were specifically designed for outdoor use. Others have been adapted or modified from patterns meant for other activities. One of the most important lessons I’ve learned over the years is the value of a well designed pattern. So, in an effort to encourage you to learn this most dangerous skill, I’d like to offer handful of my favorite patterns and provide some resources.
Green Pepper Hood. Overall I’m not a real fan of Green Pepper patterns. While they have a huge variety of outdoor related patterns, the ones I’ve used are overly complicated, and seem to focus a bit more on how something looks than in how it functions. The one exception is this hood. It is well designed, relatively easy to sew, and VERY functional. With a strip of velcro around the bottom, and on the collar of a jacket, you can add a great hood to any jacket.
I am a huge fan of Controlled Exposure. They only have a few offerings. Unlike some of the Green Pepper patterns, whoever came up with these clearly spent time outside. They understood the kinds of features that make gear not just “good” but “great!”
CE55 Mountain Pant
CE55 Mountain Pant.
CE65 Fleece or Stretch Pant
The CE55 Mountain Pant design is brilliant. The Bib straps wrap around and attach in the front of the pants, allowing one to easily drop trou when one must. Full zips allow easy on/off as well as good ventilation. The pattern is easy to customize to add features and to ensure a perfect fit. For years, these have been my go to shell pants for climbing and skiing. I actually prefer these bibs to a pair from Arteryx! The CE65 stretch pants are my 2nd favorite CE pattern. Super easy to make. Both Sharon and I have pairs made of heavy weight, Polarguard Powershield fabric. Super warm, windproof and highly water resistant.
Folks in Norway have a saying “There’s no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothes.” I doubt they are the first, or only people with that opinion. The weather is just as pleasant in nearby Finland, and Shelby offers a wonderful variety of products and patterns designed to help folks cope.
KB Gear Abisko #1
Its a safety issue. In case of trouble, this jacket could be seen by the International Space Station
I came across Shelby while surfing many years ago, and was intrigued by their designs – especially for their “Abisko” jacket. Getting this pattern shipped from Finland was more expensive than the pattern itself, but well worth it. This jacket pattern is by far my favorite. There are probably a few dozen of these floating around among family and friends. It is incredibly well designed, and without too much effort will produce an excellent jacket. One of my favorite features is the ease with which you can customize the pattern to fit any size or purpose. I have one made of lightweight material designed specifically for running. I have two jackets made from the brilliant “Eye Pollution Yellow” material for visibility when motorcycling. One is fitted for moderate temps, one is extra large to layer over bulky cold weather riding gear. I’m currently working on one with a fleece liner and Gore-tex outer shell to be used as an all around winter jacket. Some have integrated hoods, some make use of the Green Pepper hood.
I’m pretty sure Arcteryx is not worried about KB Extreme Gear eating into their market share. I’m never going to compete with the kind of gear they produce – but that’s really not the point. There is a tremendous amount of satisfaction spending time outside, using gear designed, made, repaired, or modified with your own hands…at a fraction of the cost. With the materials and knowledge available on the internet, it is amazing what you can do once you set your mind to it…and this extends beyond sewing/modifying/repairing your own gear. There is also something satisfying – and healthy – about tuning your own skis, making your own “freezer bag” backpacking meals, coming up with your own adventures and planning your own trips, etc. But I digress. I hope you enjoyed this little walk down the KB memory lane.
Resources
https://ripstopbytheroll.com (Although I just recently found this site, these guys are seriously good. They are now my favorite site for fabric and I refer them to anyone interested. They have lots of high tech, hard to find outdoor material at some seriously good prices. I definitely suggest checking them out.)
I’m lucky to be alive. Not because I survived some deadly disease or natural disaster. I’m lucky to be alive because I thought my friends were going to kill me and leave my carcass for bears to scavenge. I thought this because that’s exactly what I would have done.
Months before these morbid thoughts, I’d stumbled across a “map” of northern Wisconsin and da U.P. (the upper peninsula of Michigan). Whilst perusing the map, two things immediately struck me. #1 – there appeared to be a large road-less area along the shore of the vast inland sea known as Lake Superior that virtually demanded to be explored. #2 – there also was a thin blue line through the middle of that road-less area, marking a stream flowing north into Superior, ready to lead the way. The almost complete lack of detail on the map, somehow did not strike me as relevant to my dreams of exploration. This minor omission will became important later.
Somehow I was able to convince two of my friends that this was an adventure worth pursuing. I also, somehow, managed to convince my parents to entrust me with the family car. Even more amazing, I managed to convince three sets of parents that I knew what I was doing and that nothing bad could possibly happen to three sixteen year old boys wandering around a northern forest. I mean, really, what could possibly go wrong? Well, gentle reader, I am about to tell you. When we plunged into the forest along the creek that was to serve as our guide, several things became immediately apparent.
Our rather vague two dimensional map did not accurately depict the severely three dimensional landscape. Countless gullies, valleys, nay…canyons flowed into our little creek at right angles. We spent as much time climbing up and down the steeply sloping landscape as we did moving north.
The green on the map meant to signify vegetation did not come close to conveying the impenetrable nature of the jungle. (Think pith helmeted explorers wielding machetes). We actually had a machete – and used it.
“Beyond here be dragons.” This was really not the fault of the map. But one might have thought that a map maker with a single shred of human decency would have made mention of the massive clouds of miniature dragons (aka mosquitos, no-see-ums, deer flies, horse flies, etc) inhabiting that jungle. My knowledge of Dante might be a bit rusty, but I seem to recall the seventh level of hell closely resembling our bug infested little patch of forest.
Where my “map” really failed to provide accurate information was in the matter of distance. To be fair, it didn’t claim to offer distances, or any kind of legend at all. Still, somehow I imagined this sporty little jaunt in the woods would cover oh…eight (ish) miles…sort of more or less.
Typical northern forest…
After enduring 9-10 hours of slogging through heat, hills, humidity, jungle, and hellacious flying tormentors, we figured we must be close the Superior shoreline and sweet, sweet, blessed relief. Suddenly we saw a break in the forest canopy! “This must be it!” we thought and took off running. Instead of the Lake – we broke into a clearing under a power line! “Well, this is not right! There should be a lake here!” But no – it was just a big, ugly, buzzing power line. Having completely failed to show any other land feature that we had passed all day, our map actually did show the power line – about 1/3rd of the way to the lake! Had my friends truly been pith helmeted explorers, they might have said with impeccable British accents. “Bit of bad luck that! Not to worry. Let’s have a spot of tea and carry on!” In fact, it was at this point that I began to fear for my life. The steaming piles of bear crap scattered everywhere would have given my former friends a legitimate alibi if I had turned up missing at the end of our trip.
The power line did appear to cross roads at some indeterminate distance in either direction. At random, we chose to go right. “At least,” I said cheerfully, “under the power line it will be easier walking than fighting through the jungle.” A reasonable assumption – but wrong! The clever people who built the power line decided not to ruin good forest land, but instead routed the power line through a swamp…a bear infested swamp. So we slogged through the muck and over and around piles and piles of berry filled bear scat. We took some small comfort in the knowledge (OK – irrational hope) that thus fortified, the bears wouldn’t be ravenous. As evening began to fall, and as we began thinking about finding a dry place to camp….we saw it! We stood there – the three of us – jaws hanging agape – dumbfounded. There before us – was a road!
I would have thought my companions would be happy to have found an easy means of egress. Instead (whiners) they fixated on the fact that we had spent the ENTIRE DAY, hiking through the most brutal, unforgiving terrain the U.P. had to offer – all within one half mile of a perfectly serviceable road. For the 2nd time that day, my death seemed imminent. Well EXCUSE ME! Seems to me that even a map clearly not meant to provide any useful information would show some random features – like – oh, I don’t know – a ROAD!! I’d love to have heard the discussion that led to leaving it off. “So boss, ya figure we should put dis here ROAD on da map?” “Nah! No sense cluttering up a map with all kindsa useless stuff. That’ll just confuse folks. Besides, this here green is such a pretty color – let’s just leave it, eh?”
In the end, we walked in the dark the eight miles back to our car, and then took that same road all the way to Lake Superior. We camped at a lovely little park near the shore – in a torrential thunderstorm – and woke to find that raccoons had eaten all our food. Also, the rain unleashed a plague of flies of truly biblical proportions. ( You did ask, “What could go wrong?) We did spend one more day on the shore of Lake Superior – camped next to all the cottages that also failed to appear on our map. Eventually, my friends decided they’d had enough fun.
The Lake Superior shoreline …that existed only in our imagination
The learning curve is cruel. There were some obvious lessons learned on this little misadventure. No – the lesson was not that I needed a better class of friends, less willing to quit at the first little hardship. Seriously, this trip taught me the value of good quality maps. You might even say (as Sharon does) that I have something of a map fetish. And let’s not even get started on my bromance with Google Earth. Sharon and our boys have heard this cautionary tale – ad nauseum. Within reason, I want to know where I am and where I’m going. Call me crazy, but something about staring death (in the form of two muddy, tired sixteen year olds) in the face…well, let’s call it a safety issue. Happy hiking (BTW: I have a map you can borrow).
Washington has long exerted a kind of magnetic pull on us. Whether it was from our previous home in Wisconsin, or since we moved to Arizona – we’ve both been to the state a number of times to sample the hiking/climbing smorgasbord. So when good friends Cailie and Rob moved to Enumclaw for work, it was a no-brainer that the Diapers/Depends gang would descend on their new hometown. All the usual suspects arrived in July 2014 and set out for our first objective – Mt Baker. That climb will be the subject of it’s own post at some later date.
Following that successful climb, Sharon and I had made plans to head farther north, into Canada, to spend a week sea kayak/camping. While we were both pretty comfortable in boats, neither of us had taken our kayaks beyond sheltered inland waters, so we were eager to expand our horizons a bit. Having said that, I was a bit nervous about the prospect of colder northern waters, the possibility of significant tidal currents, ocean swells – all things that would be new to us. After doing a fair amount of research, we decided that the Seychelt Inlet would be a good intro to ocean travel. So a few days after saying farewell to our climbing partners, we traded our ice axes for paddles.
Packing at the launch site, just outside Seychelt, BC
Super calm paddling up the inlet. Beautiful.
The wind picked up ever so slightly as the day wore on.
Nice sheltered campsite, just off the beach.
Getting an early start back to the car on day two.
Seychelt Inlet was lovely. The weather was perfect. We found a beautiful spot to camp and shared the beach with a few other travelers. It was all very nice…and ultimately…sort of boring. While Seychelt was technically “the ocean”, it was a very sheltered inlet, almost like a large lake. As we relaxed during the afternoon and evening we talked about our plans to spend several more days exploring the inlet. We both came to the conclusion no matter where we went, it would all be pretty much the same. Time for plan “B”. We decided to head back to the car in the morning, and make our way across Vancouver Island to the very remote village of Bamfield. All that was required was a ferry ride, a drive all the way across Vancouver Island, which included an 80 kilometer, four hour drive over unmarked, unpaved logging roads to get to our starting point.
Somewhat surprisingly, we reached out destination without any problem. Next morning we made our way to the visitor center, and came away with a parking pass and tons of excellent local info. The woman at the visitor center was a seasoned kayaker and freely shared her knowledge. Our plan was to head across a three mile wide channel to the Deer Group of islands. Diana Island was to be our first stop. After that, we would let our comfort level and weather determine the rest of our agenda.
The harbor at Bamfield.
Getting ready to launch.
Our first big open water crossing – three miles to Diana Island.
East coast of Vancouver Island
A great view
Clearly we weren’t the first people to camp on Diana Island – although at this time – we were the only ones.
As was often the case, our departure time didn’t coincide with a helpful tide
After the sheltered waters of the Seychelt inlet, the more open waters out of Bamfield were a bit more intimidating. Fortunately, the line of islands that make up the Deer group offered protection from the open Pacific, so we only had to deal with minor swell and some wind chop in our trip to Diane Island. Thanks to the information we’d received, we found a fantastic camp site and made ourselves at home. Then came the “adventure” (cue foreboding music)! It was still early in the day and Sharon decided she wanted to paddle completely around the island. Normally I would up for that kind of adventure. However, since the west side of the island was exposed to Pacific swells that may not have seen land since passing Japan, a “spirited” discussion ensued on the wisdom of such a trip. Eventually we did set out and very quickly met the aforementioned burly Pacific swells. As we went farther, the swells were topped with some sporty wind chop as well. With her slightly more stable kayak, Sharon had not a care in the world. My empty kayak was larger and was sitting a bit higher in the water. We hadn’t had enough time to get properly acquainted so it felt quite unstable to me. Additionally, I was pondering the fatal consequences of a swim in the 50 degree water off a rugged, rocky shore getting hammered by those burly waves. I can’t recall ever being quite so intensely focused – or as terrified. It was what I like to call a real “sphincter tightener” moment. It came as a huge relief (to me) when we finally rounded the corner back into the lee of the island and I was able to unclench my butt. As we completed the loop, we had an excellent – and timely – conversation about not scaring the crap out of Dave, and about different perceptions and tolerance of risk.
After our night on Diane Island, we headed north and spent two more nights and three days exploring the islands and islets in this little corner of Barkley Sound. Nothing quite as dramatic as the trip around Diane, but absolutely fascinating. We wove around small rock outcroppings, paddled through a sea arch, observed masses of starfish clustered in the intertidal zone on rock faces, passed into and out of impenetrable walls of fog and paddled under blue bird skies. Generally we just had a great adventure exploring the area.
We both very much enjoyed paddling around the rugged islands in this group.
The amount of sea life visible in the intertidal zone on the rocks was amazing. We heard some years later, something caused a massive die off of marine life in this area. Very sad.
Camp #2
Our little bay – filled with water!
As always, our bay disappeared just about the time we needed to leave.
We passed this arch on the way north. Later on our way back south, with the tide coming in we were able to surf through the opening.
A view of camp at the Ross Islets. Notice the wall of fog in the background.
Another view from our camp on Ross Islet.
Low tide. At the far left, Andrew and Katya’s kayaks are visible.
McGyver would have been proud!
Back to Bamfield – another adventure winding to a close.
Our last night was spent on a lovely little beach on Ross Islet. At low tide, a bit of dry ground emerged that allowed us to walk across to another islet to meet our neighbors. We spent some pleasant time visiting with Katya and Andrew from Seattle. From our conversation it was clear they were experienced paddlers. We exchanged contact information and only later did we find out that among his many, many talents Andrew has built a number of strip built and skin on frame kayaks. Katya is a professional photographer and videographer. Many of her images and videos are amazing. As so often happens on our trips, we enjoy and seek solitude, yet many of the memorable moments involve the fascinating people we meet.
We passed a pleasant evening on our tiny island. Somehow we managed to leave our poles on shore after a lunch stop earlier in the day, so we had to seriously McGyver our tent in order to have some shelter. After that small chore and dinner were taken care of, I recall spending a fair amount of time just staring out across the water – at the small mountains on the mainland – at the other islands – at the clouds and fog that appeared, then disappeared – at the animal life that made an appearance from time to time. The entire experience was just so – pleasant and satisfying. As always happens, we talked of plans and ideas for other similar trips – here and elsewhere. Although as Frost noted, “Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back.” As wonderful as this area was, the western coast of Canada is so rich with opportunities for kayak trips, in reality I doubt if we would ever come back. After an uneventful crossing the following morning, this trip joined so many others – going from adventure to memory. But what a fine memory to have.
2001 marked an exciting new chapter in our lives when a job change brought us to Flagstaff. Not only did a move to the southwest open up more opportunities for adventure, it introduced us to a whole new circle of active friends. Since this and the previous post are all about some of the people who have been part of our adventures, here’s a little background on just a few of our old and new companions.
“We are not relations, sir.” -Forrest Gump.
“Dan Boss” and I went to high school together. Since our college days we’ve been roaming the world together on countless adventures. Phil “Yard Sale” is also a regular companion, from our earliest frozen Boundary Water trips to the present.
Joel and Alison. Joel and I also attended high school together. These two are a real “power” couple. Alison has high pointed every state …yes, that also means Denali. 0% body fat Joel gets asked if has calf implants. Huh? We’ve combined forces for some amazing adventures…Wind River range, Nepal, Rainier, Grand Canyon, etc.
Dan Boss somehow managed to pull together a trekking trip to Nepal in 2012. That was a perfect opprtunity to blend old friends, and create new friendships with Cailie “The Gnome Princess“, husband “Handsome Rob“, Andrew and Allison (who remained behind with the young ‘uns.)
Work brought us together with Karen “I never met an adventure I didn’t like“(left) and Jeannette (our newly ‘adopted’ daughter). In the middle is Heather, good friend of Cailie (and now ours as well) .
Heather, Sander and Jeannette. Sander (from the Netherlands) was six weeks into a southwest bike tour when we gave him a ride from Kayenta to Flagstaff. He joined us for a trip into the Canyon. Given the company, he thought he had died and gone to heaven
“FloJo” and “White Stallion” on the JMT. We met Michelle shortly after moving to Flag. We were thrilled several years later when these two wonderful people tied the knot.
Co-workers K-Bart and Allison. Yes, Allison really is that cheerful. If she wasn’t so nice it probably would be annoying.
Co-worker Glenn moved here from Maine less than a year ago. In that short time she apparently knows everybody and seems to have explored everywhere. Strong work!
Going through photos for this post, it is amazing to us how many different trips we’ve taken, and how many different people have combined to make those trips so enjoyable. It has also been interesting and fun to see how often we’ve reshuffled the friends deck and come up with different combinations of friends on different trips. Sharon and I love spending time together, and we are incredibly compatible when it comes to likes/dislikes/capability/etc. Adding another person/people to the mix always has the potential to the change the dynamic in uncomfortable ways. Looking back at the trips through the years, these folks have always added to our enjoyment.
Wind River Range with Joel and Alison
Yes…it was as cold as it looks.
Not their first rodeo. Snow shoe banquet in Bryce
Joel, Alison, Sharon, Phil, Ethan and Dan Boss in the Chicago Basin, Colorado.
Bagging one of the 14’ers in the basin.
Our first get acquainted trip with the some of the future Nepal trekkers. Aaron, Sharon, Kevin, Andrew, Rob, Cailie
South Canyon panorama.
Our little oasis in the organized chaos that is Kathmandu
Our little group…calm in the midst of the storm
Typical trail day…and the reason we all went vegetarian for three weeks.
Tea house common room. People from all over the world gather for meals and some warmth by the yak dung stove before heading off to the rustic, dormitory style rooms.
Another normal day the trail. Cholatse on the right.
The Diapers and Depends gang closer to home in the Superstition Mountains.
Sharon, Karen B and friend on New Year’s morning – undisclosed location in Sedona.
Sweet, sweet escape from the Orb of Death along the Escalante Route. Dan, Rob, Andrew, Sharon, Karen and Cailie
Diapers and Depends expedition on the Tanner Trail.
Dinner at 10,000′ feet on Rainier. Five star dining with a view
“Sea Level Sucks” – Life is good at 14,410
We love freeze dried gruel, but make an exception once in a while.
Base camp on Mt Baker
Baker summit. Steve, Dan, Sharon and Cailie
Baker in the background. Dan and Steve on their way to an attempt on Mt. Shuksan
Family and Friends at our annual pilgrimage to the Imogene Pass Run.
Karen, Heather and Jeannette ready for some Canyon fun.
Real Canyon fun on Phantom Creek.
Butt dams are always fun.
Jeannette and Andrew at Hance Rapid.
Jeannette enjoying some Jack’s Canyon limestone during a great day with Kevin and Karen
Andrew paddling upstream from Lee’s Ferry towards Waterhole’s Canyon.
Flojo, Stallion, Razor, Kilt Lifter and Yard Sale heading out on the John Muir Trail.
Oh what a day….
These pictures by no means an exhaustive list of either friends or the good times we’ve had with them. Sharon and count ourselves incredibly blessed to have not just “acqaintances” but so many true friends. Here’s a big shout out and thank you to all the folks who enrich our lives. Every mutual fund advert comes with the warning that past performance does not guarantee future returns. When it comes to friends I’m going to disagree. I would say past performance is a pretty good indicator of what will happen. I am looking forward to more good times with old and hopefully, lots of new friends.
I went x-c skiing yesterday…and it sucked! I realize a lot of folks are thinking, “Well – duh! Of course it sucked!” For many, their entire experience of x-c skiing is as a bad idea they somehow got talked into that involved lots of flailing and falling and going nowhere rather slowly. The thing is, I grew up x-c skiing and for many, many years it was my “thing” – it was my passion. In my hometown in northern Wisconsin, x-c skiing was the equivalent of trail running here in Flagstaff. And just like the annual migration of Flagstaff runners to the Imogene Pass Run, thousands of people from up nort’ traveled to test themselves in the American Birkebeiner and various other ski races. I looked forward to the long, long Wisconsin winters and loved skiing.
Since moving to Flagstaff in 2001, x-c skiing has become less of a “thing”. For many years we lived east of town and I didn’t feel like driving all the way out to the Nordic Center. Over the years we’ve had some sporadic snow years. Too often my free time didn’t coincide with good snow, etc., etc., etc. Bottom line is that in Flagstaff, there are more opportunities for outdoor activity than time in which to do them all. I think I skied once or twice in our first winter here. Since then, my faithful gear has been in storage, waiting for me to notice it.
So in a recent fit of nostalgia for the “good old days” I bought some new boots, and some slightly newer, used skate skis and headed out to the Nordic center. Apparently x-c skiing is NOT just like riding a bike. As I clipped into the skis I imagined myself gliding effortlessly along the trails, muscles rippling under colorful lycra. The reality was not quite what I imagined. The skis didn’t stay underneath my body the way they were supposed to. (note to self – probably just need better gear). Almost immediately my shin muscles started cramping from my awkward skiing motions. Any muscles present were not rippling. Quivering would be more accurate. And not under colorful lycra, but under an insulating layer of flesh. In spite of being in pretty good running shape, my heart was attempting to jack hammer an escape path through my chest. My arms felt like Bobby Hill “The kids at school all call me T-Rex cuz’ my arms won’t support my body weight.“
I hadn’t bothered to wax the newer skis. “It will be fine” I thought. Rookie mistake. It wasn’t. I ended up having to skate down some of the hills. This was NOT the Jesse Diggans, Olympic finish I had envisioned. As I struggled along, I had lots of time for negative thoughts. How did I ever think this was fun? How sad is this? I thought I was in shape. I used to ski the 55k Birkie, now I’m gassed after a couple of miles! Why did I waste money on new gear? This is embarrassing! I’m glad no one is around to see me and offer to help me find my walker, or my way back to the nursing home. I spent $10 on this stupid pass – how long do I have to do this to justify that expense?
Then it happened. It wasn’t quite a ray of sunshine from heaven or angels singing a chorus, but it happened. I hit a stretch of better snow. My legs stopped cramping. The jack hammer in my chest slowed down ever so slightly. And I felt it. Arms and legs started working in a slightly more coordinated fashion. Skate, pole, glide. There it is! Downhill, tuck, step around a sharp turn – nailed it! And then came a slight uphill and the moment was gone! But I had felt it. Somewhere inside that softer, older body there still lurked a skier. And in that moment, I fell in love with skiing again.
So today, I’ll dig out my old ski wax and give the newer skis some love. Maye I’ll check with Google to see if wax technology has changed in the last 20 years. Next time I go to the gym, maybe I’ll pay just a little attention to my T-Rex arms. Who knows, maybe there’s still another Birkie in this body. But first, baby steps…let’s see about skiing for a whole hour, then we can talk – and dream.
I love the lyrics to the song “Glorious” by Mamuse. So even though I’ve used them before at the beginning of a different post, I’m going to share them again.
I’ve got good friends to the left of me And good friends to my right Got the open sky above me And the earth beneath my feet Got a feeling in my heart That’s singin’ All in life is sweet – Oh what a day!
If you’ve read the ‘welcome’ page, you know that the genesis for this blog was a moving experience I had as a young man in the mountains. More precisely, it was the realization that the experience was somewhat diminished by not having anyone with whom to share it. To say that has changed would perhaps rank as the most colossal understatement of the ages. The quantity and quality of friends who have shared adventures since then almost defies description. In fact, as I gathered photos for this post, I realized there are so many friends, and so many adventures – they realistically won’t fit in one post. This, then, will be just the first in a series of photo essays to celebrate those whom I am privileged to call friend – and just a few of the adventures we’ve shared.
Boundary Waters (early 80’s)…I met the Backer boys in high school. We forged bonds of friendship doing what any self-respecting mountaineer wannabe living in the Midwest would do – we camped in the middle of winter – in northern Minnesota – in weather cold enough to freeze solid a bottle of Peppermint Schnapps. Thus was born the concept of “stupid fun.”
Neatly organized pack…Check! Broken ski pole splint…Check! Wool knickers…Check! Practically ready for a trip to Everest.
Aftermath of a Warren face plant. BTW…skis were my idea. Everyone else wanted snow shoes. Thanks guys!
Mike, Dave, Dan, Phil, Warren…successful south to north crossing of the Boundary Waters Canoe Area!
1985 Mt Robson… By the time we set our sights on Robson, Dan and Warren had already climbed Rainier as teenagers (what were their parents thinking?). I had lived close to lots of mountains in Alaska. We had several BWCA trips under our belts. Yep – we were ready for the big time.
It’s all fun and games until one of those beasts jumps on your back!
Warren, Dave, Tim and Dan sporting the latest in climbing gear and clothing.
Mt Robson from our climb to the top of Mt. Resplendant. Unsuccessful summit attempt on Robson, but super successful climbing adventure.
Studly Noob climbers. We didn’t even know what we didn’t know – and we still had fun.
The journey – and the views along the way – are just as important as the destination.
A New Life (1985)…Two weeks after Robson I said “I do” to an amazing new chapter in life with my best friend and adventure partner. One of our first (and still favorite) adventures was a seven week long, 2,500 mile bike ride up the east coast and into the maritime provinces of Canada.
The bike trip was a microcosm of marriage…lots of figuring things out.
For those who know me now, there was a time when MY hair was longer than Sharon’s.
Lots of miles and smiles that summer.
One of our less successful dinner experiments – a true gastronomic nightmare!
Somehow this captures what life would be like living in the inner city of Milwaukee, working, raising three boys, you know…life!
Boundary Waters…Again (2002)…Life in Milwaukee was fun, challenging and filled with lots of good times with many, many dear friends. We watched our children grow from infants to teens and were fully immersed in that world. A new century seemed like a good time for a fresh start though. In 2001 we moved to a mountain town in northern AZ and were suddenly confronted with a whole new world – a world filled with new friends and opportunities for new adventures. Interesting that I kicked off this new chapter in early 2002 with an old adventure with old friends.
Can’t remember exactly, but I think that was a brochure for a beach front time share.
Seems like Dan keeps popping up in all these posts involving snow and puffy jackets.
Yep…still snows in the Boundary Waters.
The gear had improved considerably in 20 years. Much more comfortable than I remember.
Warren, Tim, Phil, Dave and Dan Boss after another successful trip.
Collectively, the four trips presented here amount to less than three months out of the 57 years I’ve spent on the planet so far. Only seven people are pictured in these photos. Seven people out of the hundreds, perhaps thousands of people I’ve met in the course of my life. A tiny fraction. And yet, when I look at these pictures, the flood gates open, the memories come pouring out and fill my heart. They make me smile and laugh. They make me grateful. And they inspire me. They inspire me to call, or text, or email a friend – to talk, to reminisce – and to plan another adventure!
