The Trials and Tribulations of Change...

Seattle's Beautiful Skyline...

Change is the law of life.  And those who look only to the past or present are certain to miss the future.

- John F. Kennedy

Flying into Seattle for a long weekend seemed a little crazy.  The flight was a little too expensive, I would lose my high altitude edge, and every time I visit Seattle the focus is on food and libations - not exactly the best path to alpine conditioning.  But Seattle does provide me with something that is very hard to put a price tag on - old friends that I do not see nearly enough.

In 1995 I lived north of Seattle in Bellingham, WA.  I worked for the Lummi Tribal School as a special education teacher, and spent many weekends heading south to Seattle and north to Vancouver - two towns I have always loved.  When I moved back East a couple good friends moved west and settled in the Seattle area.  Although it is tough to have good friends move across the continent, there is also a hidden bonus - they now live in a place that I can always visit...

Seattle is now a boom town.  For better or worse.  If you were born here, and liked the way Seattle was twenty-years-ago, you are probably not that happy. If you are a developer or a restaurateur, the excitement and potential is overwhelming.  I am an outsider.  A tourist that comes to visit every five years or so.  And each time I visit I am pretty amazed at the changes I see.  Back in 1995 I thought the density of the traffic was pretty thick and the pace of traffic a little crazy.  Now, the congestion is horrendous and the driving seems like a free for all.  On Wednesday I was almost crushed by two cars that collided and spun out of control and careened into a stop sign I was standing next to.

Way too close...

Housing offers its own challenges as well.  Rents are expensive, and buying a home or condo is becoming out of reach for most Seattleites.  Homes that sold for $23,000 twenty-years-ago in Capital Hill can now fetch over a million.  Needless to say wages have gone up, but not at the blistering pace that the costs of living has.

The friends that I come to visit here in Seattle represent several different perspectives on the change that has happened here.  One friend, Eion, is an up and coming developer that is buying, beautifying, and selling homes here in Seattle for eight years.  He see's a real estate market that is exploding and is working as hard as he can to capitalize on the staggering growth.  

Change is hard work...

Another pair is a middle class couple that have been is Seattle for many years - Ryan grew up on Capital Hill and Amy arrived here in 1996.  They have seen a transformation that has been at times frustrating to watch and be submersed in.  Many of the land marks that they grew to love and rely upon have been swept aside, and the once accessible down town offers new challenges and expense.  

The third party consists of two, young, new comers.  Sid and Augustine.  They are 19 and 20 years of age, have been traveling the country, and are new to the Seattle area.  They are two gutsy, and adventurous, new comers to a city that is not an easy place to navigate with little financial resources.  They have worked their way west from Cambridge, MA to the Mission District of San Fransisco, up to Los Angles, where their car bonked, and then to Seattle by bus.

For Sid and Augustine Seattle is new and grand, and life is a daring adventure.  They have arrived with enthusiasm, a young love, and a new perspective.  They have no expectations, just a day by day journey that has led them to a new place to explore.   They are yet to mourn the loss of a place that once was, because they are just discovering what this new place is.

On their Seattle adventure...

Who are the "bad guys" in this scenario?  The developers?  The builders?  The realtors?  Out-of-staters?  The corporations that recruit over-achievers and pay them high salaries?  Air B & B?  It happens here in Seattle, where I am from in Portland, and in places like San Fransisco, et al.  More often then not the complaints I hear are directed at the people that are somehow involved in the process, not the system itself.  

To me the responsibility to influence policy falls squarely on each citizen, in every community.   I am part of this group and have not been active in the local politics for many years.   There are substantial obstacles that make it easy to abandon participation.  It is difficult to influence the inner politics of a city like Seattle, or Portland Maine, when there are deep pockets that push for development, have an inside track, and have the expertise and singular purpose that it’s citizenship lacks.  But after all is said and done the direction that local government takes depends on who is pushing the hardest. 

One never reaches home, but wherever friendly paths intersect the whole world looks like home for a time.

                  - Hermann Hesse

7/22/15

From Breckinridge we sped north.  Our first stop was Saratoga, WY to visit the Hobo Hot Springs.  We got the low down from one of Michael and Sydney’s friends at the party.  Not only did Saratoga, WY offer up free hot springs, it also had a new brewery that had great food and solid beer.  I was very impressed with everything about this particular hot spring - it’s free, there is a cold river to dip in between soaks, there are public showers, the various pools are made of concrete, and there are no naked mutants waving their junk around.  It was a huge score.

What do you mean the water is hot?

After an hour-ish of soaking we hit the road and drove to Lander, WY. Lander is just east of the Wind River Range (one of the most amazing places I have ever been) and is the home base for the National Outdoor Leadership School (NOLS).  I had always imagined that if I could have planned my twenties out a little better I could have landed myself a job at NOLS when I was young and unbroken.  I could have gone into teaching after I was older and broken.  Luckily for me the path I did land on has been pretty awesome as well.  

Lander is also home to a company called Lander’s Llamas.  It is my hope to someday take a course on how to manage llamas and then organize a two week climbing expedition into the Wind River Range with the llamas doing the heavy lifting. Apparently each llama can carry 60 pounds, eat as they go, and are great watch dogs - they freak out when anyone or anything approaches camp.  That can be especially helpful if the visitor is a grizzly bear.   Get a group of ten people and twenty llamas and the Wind River Range would be a pretty sweet place to tromp around. 

Free camping in Lander is pretty sweet...

I would imagine that some people might find Lander a little too sleepy.  I am not one of those people.  To me Lander does a great job of keeping it’s western feel and independence while being a very welcoming place.  Lander has an up and coming restaurant scene.  We checked out two different spots and they were both pretty awesome.  Another welcoming aspect that the town has to offer is City Park.  A small, but versatile park that has tennis and basketball courts, two baseball fields, a soccer field, lots of picnicking areas along the river, and free camping and public restrooms.  My guess is that my home town (Portland, Maine) would never offer up its park (Deering Oaks) to the public for any sort of camping.  Which is a shame.  

Po Po Agie falls includes a rock slide drop in.... 

Lander is surrounded by incredible outdoor terrain.  Not only is the Wind River Range next door, but Sinks Canyon State Park is only minutes from it’s downtown.  The Winds run roughly north - west to south - east for100 miles and follows the Continental Divide. Gannett Peak, at 13,804 feet is the highest peak in Wyoming.  One of its most famous sections is the Cirque de Towers which is a collection of several dramatic, granite peaks that form a circle around it’s plush, boulder strewn meadows.  Sinks Canyon is a section of the Wind River Range.  The canyon is the middle fork of the Po Po Agie River. There is a section of the river that flows into an underground limestone cavern at “The Sinks” only to emerge 1/4 mile down the canyon in a pool named, “The Rise”.  

For the three of us Lander was a new place to explore.  Hikes lead to beautiful water falls and hunger led to outdoor burger joints with locally made beer.  City Park, where we camped, was filled with locals that picnicked by the river during the afternoon, and people that were camping in Lander by night so they could explore the town and the surrounding area by day.  Everyone we met was friendly and courteous.  It was a place that friendly people seemed to intersect…

This spot is just a 45 minute hike up into Sinks Canyon State Park...

  

The kind of place you don't want to leave...

  

Pedal Hard, Ride High....

Health is the greatest gift, contentment the greatest wealth, faithfulness the best relationship.

                                                                                                  

                                                               -Buddha

7/18/15

This week is also a birthday week for my buddy Michael and I.  We celebrated Michael’s birthday last night with a surprise party here in Salida after riding the Monarch Crest Trail.  There was all kinds of great folks, lots of local produce, meats and cheeses, and Sydney’s parents, who did an incredible job of hosting the party, have an amazing location for any outdoor event.   I was also very impressed at how incredible the ride was.  I was sucking wind pretty hard on the climb in and the biggest problem is that I really can’t blame acclimation at this point.  So my excuse is that it was my third mountain bike ride in the past year and the other two had happened earlier that same week.  Overall I was pretty happy with how I held up considering.

It was not that the climbs were the hardest I had ever done, nor was the single track the best I had ever ridden.  But when the climbs, the views, and the vast amount of incredible single track are combined together on one thirty mile ride I am pretty positive that the Monarch Crest Trail was the best ride I had ever done.  Several of the downhill sections were miles long and they offered the perfect mix of technical challenge and sustained flow.  At times I was giggling and couldn't stop swearing - I guess that’s what I do when I am really happy…

This morning Michael was up at 4:30 AM getting ready for his race.  It’s the Breckinridge 100 Challenge.  The course includes 13,719 feet of climbing over 100 miles.  For most racers it takes around 10 hours of continues riding to complete the course.  It seems to be a special kind of suffering that involves a great deal of self loathing or self love, not sure which.  Hanging with Michael and one of his buddies last night and hearing them discuss other similar races they have done, how they prepare for such races, and the self deprecating humor that surrounds an event like this one is inspiring.  

Tomorrow Michael, Sydney, and I are continuing our road trip to Lander, WY to camp, hike, and relax.  After a few days in Lander we are off to Billings, MT for my birthday to see the John Butler Trio!

The Best down hill ride ever....

   

Fictional Parellel

Imagination and fiction make up more than three quarters of our real life.

                                               - Simone Weil

7/12/15

Friday I spent the night just below the summit of Long’s Peak.  The back country camp site, called Boulderfield, is at 12,760 feet above sea level and is six miles from the trail head which starts at 9,406 feet.  The hike in went well.  I was still feeling a little beaten from my Grand Lake hike earlier in the week, but was able to cover the six miles in just over three hours hours with a loaded pack.  Each of the seven tents sites offered nothing more then a small area of flat ground surrounded by a three foot wall constructed of boulders of varying sizes.  The weather can get pretty sketchy, pretty quickly and the boulders around the tent provide not only a wind block, but anchors to secure one’s tent.    

There was a slow but steady trickle of people either heading up to a place called the Keyhole (the launch point to the summit), or coming down from it.  I spoke with three different parties and all of them chose to turn back from the summit.  One party was stymied by low visibility and the other two parties did not have the proper gear - crampons and an ice tool. 

The night was cold and my sleeping bag was not really built for the below 40 temps.  I slept, but I am pretty sure that I was just in a hyperthermic stupor rather then a deep sleep.  In the morning while the marmot’s took turns investigating my bear canister, I almost got up and gave the summit a shot.  But instead I rolled over and tried to get a little more sleep now that the sun was on my tent and it was beginning warm up… 

Once I returned to Boulder I stopped into my favorite coffee shop - the Laughing Goat.  I had to fulfill one of my guilty pleasures - watching an AMC show called Hell on Wheels and drinking an Americano.  The series is a pseudo-western about the building of the transcontinental railway and all of the drama that ensued.   It is raw in its presentation and a bit dramatic (kind of like my writing) and I really enjoy it.  As of late one of the things that I have noticed about the series is that the main character and I are living parallel lives.  Crazy I know…  

Every time I score a small victory in some aspect of my life, Cullen Bohannan scores a small victory in his mini- series life as well.  Every time I get my ass kicked, Cullen gets his ass kicked.  Every time he learns a life lesson, I do as well.  Cullen and I share a life, his fictional, mine… almost real…  

I guess the attraction and connection is not just the universal struggle that all of the characters in this show face, but how each of them, particularly the protagonist, handles their hardship.  Cullen, unlike most of the characters, owns his mistakes and keeps his word.  He doesn’t judge others, he just monitors his own actions.  He does not really try to win anyone’s approval, he just does what he thinks is right, and hopes for the best.  While the plot thickens and other characters lose their way, his tenacity kicks in, and he seems to just grow more grounded.  

Thankfully life provides me with a fictional hero when I am too far west to access the real ones I have back East…

Long's Peak

Mountain 1. Paul 0.

High Altitude Surreal...

The root of suffering is attachment…

- The Buddha

7/8/15

Since I am attached to my thumb, hip, ankle, lower back, and ego…  I am suffering. The hike I departed on Monday turned out to be shorter, and more painful than planned.  The original goal was to go from the East Inlet of Grand Lake to Route 7 (somewhere around 30 + miles).  My back country permit was for three nights: Slick rock, Thunder Lake, and Aspen Knoll.  To best explain how my hike went, check out the trip notes I took on the evening of 7/7/15:

Stark and wild...

• Drove to East Inlet Trail Head off Grand Lake in RMNP - 9,000 ft. Raining
• Hiked 5 miles to Slick Rock Campsite. 10,250 feet.  Raining.
• Set up tent. Raining.  Began raining hard at 7:00 PM.  Rained throughout the night.
• Woke up at 5:00 AM. Raining.
• Broke camp @ 6:30. Raining.
• Hiked two miles to trails end. Not raining!
• Broke off from Fourth Lake.
• Followed caribou path (?) to Boulder Grande Pass (?) and ascended 1,000 feet.  Two miles.  
• Took compass reading.  Too far east.  Raining.  Distant thunder.
• Traversed 1 mile west through boulder field (not Boulder Grand Pass).  Raining.  Distant thunder.
• Followed several different caribou paths.  Found stream / waterfall.  Traversed through water fall.  Completely soaked.  Raining.  Distant thunder.  Very slippery "trail" conditions.
• Found top of pass. 12,061 ft.  Lake of Many Winds in sight. Raining, hail, high winds, thunder, lightning.  Could see lightning strikes nearby.
• Retreat.  Exhausted.  12,061 ft.
• Traversed through water fall.  Completely soaked.  Raining, hail, high winds, thunder, lightning. 
• Found guided group of six under tarp waiting out the storm.  Gathered information on a direct path to main trail out.  11,000 ft (?). Raining.  Distant thunder.
• Slipped.  Grabbed sapling.  Sapling’s roots pulled. Down hill pole-vaulted fifteen feet.  Slid another twenty feet off trail over slab onto switchback below.  Cursed.  Let go of sapling. 10,750 ft (?). Raining.  Distant thunder.
• Descended down to main trail.  10,250 ft. Two miles.  Not raining.
• Went back to Slick Rock Camp Site. Two miles.  Site taken.  
• Hiked five miles to East Inlet Trail Head off Grand Lake in RMNP - 9,000 ft. Raining.  
• Ate dinner.  drank beer. Slept in van on main drag of Grand Lake.

  

  Although I was soaked and beaten, the beauty of the area
  far exceeds the discomfort obtained.

I definitely got my ass kicked… But!  I did hike around 18 miles in 24 hours between 9,000 and 12,000 feet in REALLY shitty weather...

7/8/15

Every morning I am in any town I do a coffee for free wi fi trade.  I buy a small coffee, get the wifi password from the establishment, go back in the van and make breakfast and coffee while dubbing around on the internet. It seems like a great deal for everyone involved.

After I left Grand Lake I went strait to the Back Country Permit office of RMNP to tell them I would not be showing up at Aspen Knoll for the night and made reservations to Boulderfield Campsite (13,281 ft) on the side of Long’s Peak (14,259 ft).  I would have two days to recover and explore Long’s Peak…  

The sun did peak through at times and the high alpine flora was everywhere... 

Forward Momentum...

A World War One Memorial I stumbled upon in Kansas City, Kansas.

7/3/15
It’s lonely on the road.  Anyone that spends a bunch of time traveling around by themselves in a van and says any different is not to be trusted - one could say that anyone that travels around by themselves in a van is not to be trusted, but I digress.  There are, of course, sporadic people (and critters) along the way.  There was the friendly, semi-automatic riffle toting, drunk that welcomed me 15 miles down Forestry Road 82 E in Roosevelt National Forest during a hale storm two nights ago.  Then there was the old Dead Heads I met in a parking lot in Kansas City that loved the George W. presidency, but called themselves hippies three nights ago.  Last night I was fortunate enough to be pulled into a gnome induced, RV patio-world of the National Park Campsite hosts that felt bad for me.  They figured that if they stuffed me full of red hot dogs I wouldn't look so lonely.  And how could I not mention the bear that I met this morning at 3:30 AM as he tore the side window out of my van?  

There have been a few friends that I have reconnected with this past week.  I was lucky enough to see my old friend Bryon in Burlington the first night of my trip.  He and I schlepped tourists around in kayaks for a summer many years ago and generally see eye to eye on politics and beyond.  Back when he was in Portland he parked his van in our driveway on and off throughout the summer and is an old hat at being a proficient dirt bag.  He ogled my van, he too has van envy, while I used his tools and harvested all kinds of good ideas about how to both mount my bike inside the van and how to properly use a hacksaw.  

When I reached Boulder I was fortunate enough to connect with a member of the Benson Street Crew - the street I grew up on in Lewiston, Maine.  Tom was my next door neighbor that taught me how to play chess.  He is a little less then ten years older then me, so my guess is that his mom probably forced him to spend some time with me back then, or he was just desperate to play.  I also remember that Tom was kind enough to never have beaten me up like most of the other older kids in the neighborhood did, so I am eternally grateful. 

To top it all off Tom grew up seeing a shit load of Grateful Dead shows, lives in an awesome town, has a really cool partner (Anne), and continues to be a pretty prolific climber.   So Tom turned out ok in my book.  I am very proud of him.  I am also pretty sure that all of these positive life choices that he has made were influenced by me all those years ago.  I was very influential when I was seven.

Once the guy with the gun left I was left with a pretty sweet spot...

I wish that the only benefit that I get from my trips was more time to ride, hike, and climb.  I really do wish my time away was that one dimensional.  But it is not.  As I hike, ride, blog, and try to get myself into shape to perform some more exciting endeavors I am also, and more importantly, immersed in time and isolation.  Time and isolation that I rarely get when I am home.  And it is this time and isolation that forces me to look at where I have been, where I am at in the moment, and where I am going.  It is not really that comfortable to be honest.  

Chasm Lake Under Long's Peak

At home there is only forward movement.  Noticing how I move through life, and how I effect those around me, does not seem to exist to the same extent.  Being on the road slows everything down as if to go backwards.  A chance to view the things that I broke, and shine a light on the people and the moments in my life that are really important.  I know that I cannot fix or change the past, but I can attempt to make sense of my role in it.  And that, right now, is enough...