The Educated Vegetable

2011 Recap

2012-01-02T12:32:00.001-08:00

I kept a thorough training journal for all of 2011. While most of it is completely uninteresting to anyone other than myself, I went through the whole thing this morning and pulled out some the more interesting tidbits.

I didn't have a allot going for me in 2011. Half the year was spent on crutches in an external fixator and the remainder has been spent learning how to walk on my own two feet. I also came into the year with a significant hand injury that was incurred while training to close the COC 2.5 with both hands for Steve Edward's 50th birthday. Stress has been high with school and personal responsibilities dominating my time. Nonetheless I was able to crank out more than a few PRs and learn a ton along the way.

Moving forward, I hope to break into the 5.13 range sport climbing and develop more strength and endurance in my bad leg to facilitate bigger adventures in the woods. I have a feeling my 31st birthday challenge (3/4/12) will center on one of these goals. If I can motivate to write more than once a quarter, I'll keep you all posted.

I recently read a quote that resonated with me regarding the past year. "When you walk in the valleys, you know how big the mountains are."

Happy New Year

Highlights
Bouldered V3 in a fixator
Redpointed Sit start of Anchor Punch 5.12a
Redpointed Chips Ahoy 5.12d
Epiced on Pro Skill 5.12d and never sent
Finally sent Reverse Melee V4
Finally sent Slap Happy V6
Onsighted a number of routes at The Callahans up to 5.11d
Helped build/bolt Hell of Being Crushed Alive (5.13a?) and began to link sections
One minute repeater on BM 2000 crimps + 20 lbs.
One minute repeater on BM 2000 small pockets middle 2 fingers
One minute repeater on BM 2000 staggered pockets back 2 fingers
One arm pull up with each arm (first time)
Crogged a 15 minute mile
Hiked 30 km of the Umpqua River Trail on crutches in a day.
Hiked over half of the Ridgeline trail on crutches
Sunset Bay on crutches
Great Hikes (NOT on crutches)
- Mount Pisgah
- Opal Pool
- Night “jog” on Ridgeline Trail
- Rooster Rock
- Romero/Forbush overnight loop with my little brother
“Ran” 3 miles
A handful of beautiful bike rides in SB county

Note: I did allot of campusing too (obviously), but the only board I have access to is NOT regulation spacing, so all those accomplishments are not deemed official or notable.

Blue Ribbon Day

2011-08-08T10:55:00.000-07:00

Elijah’s friends know not to expect strong positive outbursts.

But last Saturday he was still roaring long after I yelled, “Take!” and came to rest post diving backwards from the chains of Chips Ahoy. Staring down from what can only be described as that “Spiderman” pose (you know the one he uses to lower off buildings and make out with chicks), it was pretty clear that we were both pushing the limits of human psyche. Yes, two dudes alone in the woods were straight up blissing out shirtless in harnesses while tied together with a strong rope.

But …. ahem…. of course there’s an explanation for this.

Chips Ahoy is more than some 12d drilled out sport climb at a crumbling sandstone hell crag. Shit. Elijah will tell you it’s the best route in the world. In his words, “I’m jealous of anyone who’s getting on Chips.” Yes, almost every hold on the route is obviously manufactured, but I have to agree with Elijah. That line of pockets up the steep blank side of the Owl Tor is some of the greatest climbing in the world, and I’m not just saying that because I sent this weekend.

Elijah caressing the fantastic 2 finger pinch

Most sport climbers will tell you that they love the building momentum of good sport routes and the thrill of the fight to hang on as energy is released into the holds. None of the moves on Chips are really that hard. I contend that some of the 12a’s in Santa Maria have harder moves. The thing is, I wouldn’t call many of those moves easy either. The perfectly crafted two and three finger pockets that litter most the route are deceptively draining, and forget about shakes until you get to the jugs near the top. You gotta move on Chips, and if it’s anywhere near your limit, you gotta fight. Everyone likes watching redpoint burns on Chips. The route is brilliant.

Moving fast through the "easy" section

It’s also considered the entry into “hard climbing” at the Tor. Chips is sort of the pre-test piece, and many a strong climber have logged hours trying to tick this one. Somehow however, I limped my crippled ass into the Tor and sent it in 2 days of work this season (7th or 8th burn ever), and yes, this was the first 12d I’ve ever redpointed. I (and especially Elijah) don’t like giving myself too much credit for doing physical things with a mangled left ankle after surviving almost 2 years on crutches. Yet redpointing well beyond my pre-accident limit THIS quickly felt pretty damn good.

So perhaps this explains our “moment” together out in the woods.

And the good times kept on going. The smart chap that he is, Elijah took advantage of our psyche and jumped on Better Than Life (5.13c) and sent it…. again. I say again, because he’s the only person who’s ever sent the route more than once, and he’s now done it 5 times. He looked so good on this recent send that for a moment I thought he might be on a different route. It is fully rad to watch someone cruise 13c.

Elijah also put in a few burns on his new route (the Rubble project), which he’s currently calling Dawson’s Creek. Earlier in the day he finished fixing up a few holds. The steep, bouldery route is currently only 5ish draws long and ends at the chains of Auto Magic. The moves remind me of the steep cobblestone routes of Box Canyon up at Maple. Its nothing like any of the other routes at The Tor, but Elijah looks pretty damn good on it. It’s probably in the low 5.13 range.

One can’t speak about work at The Tor these days without mentioning Tom. I don’t know Tom’s last name, but I won’t be surprised to learn that it’s something like Sledge, Foreman, or Stone. The guy REALLY likes doing work and has recently focused his obsession on The Tor. Anyone who hasn’t been to the Tor in a few months is going to be BLOWN AWAY by the landscaping this guy has done. Its unbelievable and the routes are beginning to benefit. The sit start to Anchor Punch has become the standard, and as soon as Phil adds a hold or two, When The Sea Doesn’t Want You is going to be at least a half dozen moves longer.

Hard to see in the back there, but the landscaping is good

So, like two cattle dogs with an endless reservoir of energy, Elijah and I put in some more work on the new channel that is going to direct this winter’s waterflow just where we want it.

Saturdays work

Then, somehow we managed to NOT die on the drive home. The 166 is especially dangerous after a Blue Ribbon Day.
 

30th Birthday Challenge Report

2011-03-06T10:51:00.000-08:00

I took a round about course to arrive at this year’s challenge. Back in the fall while training for my portion of the Steve Edwards 50th Birthday Group Challenge, I had big plans to crush the #3 COC gripper for my 30th. This idea crashed and burned just weeks after closing the #2 when something significant popped in my left palm. It took weeks until I could open and close the hand without significant pain, and its still nowhere near 100%. So no gripper challenge. Then I concocted a challenge that had nothing to do with my body - a challenge for the mind. I quickly discovered that playing the guitar aggravated the gripper injury in my left hand so that portion was dropped after only a few weeks. The remaining hour/day of reading seemed manageable initially, but right around a month into things the 5.5 courses I’ve been taking this quarter started to overwhelm my challenge efforts. Around the same time, I started to make significant gains crogging down at Amazon trail. I’m a sucker for physical challenges, and a new idea was rising to the surface - could I cover 30km of trail on crutches in a single push?

It seemed possible, but given that I’d never covered that much ground with 2 healthy legs, I knew there would be significant suffering involved in an attempt. Perfect.

With only a month until the big day, and a current maximum effort of 1-2 miles. I wasn’t going to have enough time to properly train for this sort of distance. Over the next 3 weeks I hit the trail every other day or so and increased load progressively in this sort of fashion: 1 mile, 2 mile , 1 mile, 3 mile, 1 mile, 4 mile, etc. alternating loading days with recovery days. Knowing that crogging is not natural at all (especially since the fixator makes one of my legs almost 2 inches longer than the other), I continued to devote much effort to prehab/stabilizer training as well. The weekend before the challenge I managed a personal best of 7 miles of coastal trail in about 3 hours.

So the Gameplan for 30km (18.5 miles):

I found a segment of the Umpqua River Trai l that would satisfy my requirements. I didn’t want to loop or double back at all, because its far harder to motivate on trail you’ve already covered. The segment had two parts: Tioga (16 miles) and (Mott 5 miles). Other than the trailhead dividing the two there were no other access points. 21 miles would be a bit more than 30km, but it was close enough and I sure as shit didn’t wanna underestimate.

No one was interested in coming along, but Matt and Allison offered pickup service. The plan was to have them meet me at the end of the Mott section around dusk when, based on my calculations, I’d be finishing the 21 miles. We all assumed the trails proximity to the highway would mean plenty of cell service, so we could coordinate specifics upon their arrival. I discovered upon arrival that this was not the case. No service - a potential problem. Matt and Allison knew I had no plans of backing down, so I figured worse case scenario, they’d be hanging out in the dark for a few hours.

With no one accompanying me on the trail, I decided to do some video journaling in lieu of photos etc. The result is below.

30th Birthday Challenge from Micah Elconin on Vimeo.

Baggin the Butte

2011-02-07T08:37:00.000-08:00

It seems that body can adjust to almost anything. 5 months ago, just days after becoming part machine I couldn’t imagine putting ANY weight on my left leg. Shit, I couldn’t even lift the thing off the bed it was so damn heavy and painful. About this same time, my father says to me, “I bet you’ll be climbing with that thing on in no time!”

I would have taken that bet.

And I would have lost.

A few weeks back experiments began in the cave at The Crux. Initially my bouldering sessions were almost completely leg free, but this past Saturday found me traversing less than vertical walls and tactfully sending projects in the cave. This would be far more interesting with video of the “harder” bouldering, because some of the problems totally force the use of the bad leg. It almost feels like dry tooling with a foot. After two hours, I’d sent two V3s and flashed a V2. Walking out of the gym I had to laugh comparing the days tick list to this day not too long ago in Red Rocks, NV.

Meanwhile, crogging has been paying dividends as well. Although I’ve yet to break the 15 minute mile, the few days a week spent down at Amazon Trail have undoubtably improved my ability to move around. Feeling confident on Thursday I drove past the running trail and on up to the Baldy Peak trailhead. About 20 minutes later I’d covered the 300 feet of elevation gain over the course of about half a mile. It was hard work, but nowhere near as grim as I expected it to be. After successfully getting off the small peak, it was very clear what needed to happen next.

Baldy Peak

At just over 2000 ft, Spencer’s Butte isn’t much to talk about, or even look at, but as the the highest point in Eugene, it has earned a small reputation amongst locals. The trailhead starts at about 950 ft elevation southwest of the summit. Over the course of just over a mile, the main trail weaves around the south side and delivers hikers up the gently sloping east face of the butte. So yeah, its basically a great afternoon trail run for fairly fit people with two legs. Initially the plan was to take this route to the top, enjoy the summit and back track down the same way, but when I got to the trailhead and saw the scores of people of all ages and sizes headed for the main trail, my attention quickly turned to the West Trail with not a soul in sight. The West trail takes a direct route to the summit and in a half mile it covers the 1000+ ft very quickly, some of which, I’d heard, was 3rd class. This immediately sounded far more appetizing than the alternative.

45 minutes later a dozen or so locals were startled by the sound of aluminum and plastic clanking against the wet stones near the summit. They looked over just in time to see me mantle over the edge from “God only knows where”, pick up a pair of crutches and proceed straight towards the pile of boulders at the true summit.

Spencer's Butte

Hiking up The West Trail alone in a fixator during a wet winter day was probably one of the most fulfilling, motivating and truly adventurous things I’ve ever done. The hiking was steep with numerous 3rd class sections (meaning I’d need the use of one or both hands), and the combination of mud, loose rock and slick stone made for a moderately thrilling experience. Seeing as it was Superbowl Sunday, I brought along some Packers gear to stoke all my new Wisco friends. In the end it made a fitting summit flag. After snapping some photos I headed down via the main trail. The ascent has me so psyched, I barely noticed the countless passer-by’s comments.

And as always the looming question.... What’s next?

Crogging

2011-01-17T22:36:00.000-08:00

I should have known it was only a matter of time until I would figure out a way to turn crutching into an interesting activity. Over the past month I've been experimenting with different "strides" and have had a small amount of success. The fact that the bad leg can handle body weight has helped facilitate things a bit, but the breakthrough came when I separated each crutch's swing forward (something I accidentally stumbled upon quite literally). Last week's time for the mile was 16:56. Today I clocked in at 15:04. Not bad. It would be awesome to get into the single digits.

I also started looking around the internet for more inspiration.

BDC 2011 - Work smarter, not harder

2011-01-01T14:09:00.000-08:00

Finding Bliss via guitar in MT4D circa 2001

Its that time of year once again.

I’ve toiled with numerous ideas for the big 3-0, and have had little success coming up with a fitting challenge. Last year I was talking big and claiming that I’d be running 30k for my 30th. Seems Dr. Proctor might have been right about that being a little too optimistic. Seeing as my leg’s still in a cage, running or even significant walking isn’t realistic even by BDC standards. I’ve considered a number of upper body challenges, but so far all are either uninspiring or injury provoking. The best candidate thus far is a 30 second single digit mono hang (I mentioned injury provoking right). The fact is I don’t really need much more motivation to train, and given the abuse my body’s been taking from life on one leg and continual antibiotics I don’t think there’s much to gain through pushing it any harder than my current full scale training efforts. On that note, I’m starting a new cycle this coming week after my first rest period in half a year. No doubt there’s some lofty goals set for the coming months, but as of yet, none really qualify at the BDC level. More on this in a subsequent post.

Most everyone is familiar with the idea that the biggest gains come about through improving weak links. Sure, most of us rarely put this into practice, but its seems to be true across the board. Looking at my life from a wider perspective there are more than a few areas that qualify as weak links. I’ve always tried to use BDC as a means to jump start my interest or ability in areas that don’t get attention through my normal routine. So this year I’m addressing some long term weaknesses.

First and foremost, I have never been able to convince myself to pay attention to the news. Sure, most of it is shit and none of it is presented objectively, but I do think I have a duty to know whats going on in the world around me, and I’ve failed miserably in this area.

Along similar lines, I don’t read nearly enough books, especially for someone that enjoys writing and the power of language. There’s always been an excuse or some other diversion that keeps me from flipping through pages. Its time to change that.

I often tell people I was a musician in a past life. Throughout my teens and early twenties my passion for hearing, writing and performing music was strong, very strong. Somewhere along the way the fire burnt out. I’d like to see if the flames can be stoked again.

So the challenge this year will be somewhat mundane on paper. However, the consistency component should prove to be fairly taxing especially once things heat up in school this coming quarter. Complaints welcome as are continued suggestions for fitting physical challenges.

Starting 1/1/11 and ending on my 30th birthday 3/4/11 the Challenge is:

-Read news for 30 minutes/day

-Read fiction or nonfiction (school work doesn’t count) for 30 minutes/day.

-Play the guitar for 30 minutes/day

I'll be needing some suggestions for news sources and books. Please comment with your favorites and recommendations.

Happy New Year

Gotta log those minutes no matter what the conditions.

Cody Elconin 9/12/1994 - 11/8/2010

2010-12-12T14:01:00.000-08:00

I’ve often struggled with the concept of faith. Usually it implies some sort of commitment to a higher power, god, or whatever you wanna call it. One puts faith in this energy and enjoys sense of protection from the woes of the world. I have a hard time with deities, saviors, and the traditional concept of God. While I am usually very happy accepting that some folks just see things in their own way and leaving it at that, the faith issue has always nagged me. I hate having to take the stance that I “don’t have faith” - that I’m purely rational and unwilling to accept forces at play beyond my comprehension. It seems so limiting and ignorant.

What I continue to discover is that I do have some amount of faith, but its really a faith in myself. I greet the day with confidence and sleep soundly at night because I know that I can and will accept whatever it is life throws my way. I am willing to suffer. I am willing to change. I don’t ever expect to understand what it is that powers life, but I do believe that there is something common to all creation/experience. We’re rain falling to the soil and growing to grain. We’re dough in the oven slowly baking to bread. We’re the shit and piss that comes out the other end. And soon enough, its raining again. We’re all simply little cogs in the process.

So yes, I’ve spent some time thinking about these things, and stumbled across some great teachers along the way. Recently I lost one of these teachers - my good friend Cody. He was well into his 17th year on the day he passed, and like many of our closest four legged compadres he was the embodiment of the sort of faith that I preach. The faithful dog was willing to be whatever he needed to be moment to moment.

As the quickest, loudest, and ferocious member of the family, he took on the role of house watchman, a task he undertook with enthusiasm day after day. Of course, he was also more than willing to double as the butler in his later years (with the recent budget cuts and all), greeting guests and catering to their needs as best he could. Sure, he was slow warming up to most, but hey, you can’t fault the guy for being selective in dallying out the love he shared with those within his inner circle.

Cody knew how to have a good time no matter the circumstance and accompanied me on many a fine bouldering session or hike up into the foothills. He never complained about my choice of destination or the problems I’d project. While he didn’t like it when the local test pieces would shut him down (I did try to explain to him that climbing barefoot is a sandbag), he often found a suitable route up the stone and we’d meet at the top to enjoy the small summits. He was never impressed by names or grades. For him, climbing was all about movement over stone. He was happy forging his own path.

When Cody was twelve he tore apart his back left leg while pursuing an invader on the property. We chose not to perform surgery on the leg, because of his age. The whole family wondered how much time our good friend had left. When one lives for running, how happy can they be without the use of a leg? Well shame on us for not having more faith in our dear friend. Sure, he put on some weight, and lost a bit of that footloose and free attitude, but Cody accepted his situation and rarely, if ever, lamented his fate. He knew how to suffer.

I wasn’t there to say goodbye that one last time, but I’m told he passed with dignity and little fear. It seems Cody was once again willing to accept whatever it was that was coming over him. In fact in the end, his only concern was our well being. Laying on the floor at the vet, blind and obviously in severe pain, he sought out my father’s hand and patiently licked as he drifted off.

I don’t know much about what happens next, and I don’t really care. Death is a shocking reminder of life’s fleeting nature. We are all incredibly fragile and the ride is damn quick. When thoughts turn to my old friend, they’re greeted with a smile. His memory stokes that inner fire which drives all that I do. He reminds me daily that there are many more mountains to climb and the hour glass is quickly draining. That percussive bark of his echoes in my head, “WOOF!”

I know buddy. I’m going.

Robo Update

2010-10-11T10:35:00.000-07:00

Turns out motivation to blog goes down when one spends the rest of their day studying and at the computer doing work. So, I’ve slacked a little. However, I scrounged up a small amount of energy to jot down a few notes about things.

As the wise Steve Edwards recently noted on his blog, October is the unofficial climbing (along with just about any outdoor sport) month worldwide. The weather hits that “just right” amount that we all know and love. And here I am again, on the couch watching the season pass me by. Sure, I’m the first one to admit that skipping fall and going straight to winter can be extremely productive. 9 months of Isaac Hayes and campus boards did wonders for my phalanges, but I’ll admit its been difficult to stay motivated this time around.

Robo-leg is a pain in the ass. A cast aint got nothing on this thing.

-21 pin sites = HIGH chance of infection and I’ve already had two. At this rate, I’ll be on antibiotics more or less the entire 9 months this thing is attached to me.

-From start to finish a shower takes about one hour. Its epic. I don’t have the energy to describe the process.

-Swelling irritates the pin sites causing pain and higher chance of infection so I only get a limited time upright every day which means my already limited life is even more limited.

-Every freakin person I cross paths with wants to have a stop and chat about “my cool cast thing”. The annoyance of this is exacerbated by the swelling issue.

-Then there’s all the normal stuff that sucks about life on crutches etc.

Also, I get to have a bone graft next week. C’mon, who doesn’t love a nice bone graft to start off the weekend?

School is going into full swing. After an intense 2 week orientation we’re starting the 3rd week of the first quarter on Monday. All the MBA’s take the same 4 courses first quarter and yes, they are fairly basic and mind numbing. Of course the school requires these courses because of folks like me who have never taken a business course before, and I know I’ll be better off because of them. What’s my favorite part about the program? My classmates are awesome. The school did a great job of pulling folks from all walks of life and I’ve enjoyed getting to know everyone. This confirms my hunch that the best part about any MBA program is the network it offers.

More later, or maybe not.

Fixate this!

2010-09-11T12:38:00.000-07:00

So here it is. The Ilizarov.

Let me give you a quick run down on how this thing alters life as I know it.  
-It’s heavy. With the foot plate on it must weigh 7-8 lbs. Pounds that are hanging from the extremity of a limb. I tried a front lever yesterday. It didn’t work out.

-Each of the 21 pin sites need to be cleaned regularly. After all, these are open wounds that go directly into healing bone. For now, this means scrubbing each site with saline daily and then wrapping sensitive or weeping sites with gauze. Then blowdrying the whole thing. The whole process takes a while. Infection is a real possibility. Well, actually, as my doctor says, its a guarantee. In fact, right now I’m halfway through a round of Keflex because of the first of what will be more than a few infections. And the infections hurt. Allot.

-Even with the foot plate removed, its next to impossible to get any normal clothes over the beast. Thats why I’m wearing stupid tearaways in the video. As for going out in public - I’ve chopped the leg off of some old pants and flared the side. Still not sure what I’m doing to my suits yet.

-The Ilizarov is designed to bend the leg back straight. In the video you can see the colored struts in the middle of the leg. Each day I turn these to a prescribed point and little by little the device torques on the bones. Think orthodontist adjustment, but every day.

-There’s a new bone stimulator in the mix now. This one uses ultrasound. So every night I lube myself up and strap the thing on for 20 minutes. Its painless.

-My foot is always cold. I haven’t come up with a good way to keep it covered or warm yet. For now, I’m treating it like cold hands when out cragging. If I can keep my core extra warm, there will hopefully be enough surplus heat to warm the foot.

-At night I bag the whole thing in a pillow case to avoid tearing up sheets and my other leg in bed. It actually works pretty well.

-Everyone asks if it hurts. Laying around etc it feels allot like a cast - more awkward than anything. But with movement, impact, or too much time hanging below my heart at a desk it throbs, stings, rings, etc, but honestly it hurts way less than it looks like it should. The biggest offenders are the pin sites near joints. The knee wire has been driving me nuts. In order to crutch or train I have to bend and straighten the leg a bunch and this wire doesn’t like all the movement.

-One of the worst things about this rig is that with the foot plate on, my left leg is almost 3 inches longer than the right. This is ravaging my hip and back. With out the foot plate I have to hop around on one foot or gently touch my toes to the ground which has the same effect. Core work and simple yoga will hopefully keep things somewhat healthy.

I’ve got a 6-9 month lease on this thing.

Training Wheels

2010-09-08T13:10:00.000-07:00

Adaptations continue. On Monday the kitchen was conquered. Even on two legs, personal cheffing is fairly laborious. Planning, shopping, prepping, cooking, cleaning... blah blah blah. Making a work week’s worth of simple meals is 4-5 hour affair. Somehow, I was able to crank out the following stuff in enough bulk to cover 2 people’s lunch/dinner needs for the week. Minus the dishes (The other benefactor covered those) I only had to hop around on one leg for 4 hours or so. So basically, it sucked, but after finishing another hefty serving my tummy still thinks I got mad game in the kitchen.

- Chicken Milanese over Roasted Potatoes, Arugula and Cherry Tomato
- Salmon, Summer Vegetable and Chickpea Curry
- Bison, Chorizo, and Kale Chili
- Chard, Bacon and Chevre Frittata

And for those interested in the robo-weighted training schedule:

AM
Pranayama

PM
Monday - Trainers (power hangboard) / Grippers
Tuesday - Campusing (metolious meds) / Core
Wednesday - Pumping Iron (John Brookfield Style) / Grippers
Thursday - Repeaters (power endurance hangboard) / Core
Friday - Bar Work (pull ups/dips etc) / Grippers

On the weekends I’ll be trying to stick to the prescription of sitting around on my ass with the leg up and stuff. The hard training.

The Lucky Ones

2010-08-30T15:39:00.000-07:00

So there’s about 10 lbs of metal that, for lack of a better phrase, is fucking bolted to my lower left leg, foot and ankle. Currently I’m unable to place more than about 2% body weight on that leg due to the significantly painful sensation created by the more than a dozen pins and wires that are now jutting out of the limb at every angle. Somehow these are supposed to absorb the forces generated through use of the leg and transfer them to the frame thats surrounding them, but as of yet they simply inflict pain. Of course, there’s a freshly broken fibula, a still very mangled tibia, and an arthritic ankle down there as well. The point is, my body not only has to get used to lifting, twisting and hauling an extra 10 lbs that have magically appeared on the extremity of a limb, but do so while undergoing an ongoing acupuncture treatment with needles the size of your standard issue wooden pencil.

Don’t get me wrong here. I’m just as tired of blogging about this fucking leg drama as you are of reading about it. Just bare with me. This is going somewhere.

Last Fall when I started hitting it hard at the Shed again, the annoyance of having additional weight on the left leg (the cast) motivated my strapping of the equivalent weight to the right ankle. The plastic cast only weighed a few pounds so I was only adding 2.5 lbs to the right side. Being even down below helped with the coordination necessary for campusing and probably helped keep my lower back happy during the long hours hanging. It may not be obvious to the uninitiated, but even hanging (especially at different lock off points) requires a ton of core strength. The proof: after 6 months of hangboard work I could crank out nearly a 10 second front lever the first time I tried one (and had never done a proper straight leg lever prior).

So yesterday I put in an order for a some 10 lb ankle weights, and once they arrive I’ll be strapping one to my right leg during all subsequent workouts. While this sudden increase in load often turns out bad, I’ve seen and experienced the gains that “pushing it” can produce if one keeps their head screwed on straight and is reasonable about their volume as the body adjusts to the additional strain. The one thing I do have going for me is the solid base created this past year where I logged more hours hanging from my fingers alone than most climbers log in their entire career. 20 additional pounds of training weight means that I’ll be fooling my arms into thinking I weigh about 190. Shit. Even tipping the scales at that number, I’m nowhere near Elijah’s pre pneumonia training weight.

Most training days will suck. They’ll suck bad, but not nearly as bad as trying to make myself dinner afterwards or attempting to sleep with pins sticking out of my leg. And I’m fine with it that way because, really, as many a passer by has reminded - I’m the lucky one. Your average person on the street likes to point out the good fortune I was dealt by landing on my feet instead of my head last year, or that merely shattering a left leg in a climbing accident is far better than dying in a car accident. While they’re technically correct and I agree that things can always be worse, I don’t see things that way at all.

My, and every other sick or injured person’s luck is in their struggle. We’re the lucky ones because in our fight to survive and recover we are granted continuous access to that bittersweet nectar that is challenge. Sure it hurts. It hurts like hell, but just behind the thin vale of pain is something pure and beautiful. Call it love; call it wisdom; or simply call it strength of character, but that energy which powers all that we do gets supercharged by these experiences, and that, my friends, is the greatest gift one may ever receive. So yes, we are the lucky ones.

Bad Coffee is Better than No Coffee

2010-08-26T11:13:00.000-07:00

Those lucky enough to earn major surgery know the deal. Its eerily simple really.

Step one: Enjoy an anxious yet somber drive to hospital. Noone likes surgery, but at this point your body is more confused than anything. No breakfast. No coffee. “Is it even safe to be driving right now?”

Step two: Answer a million questions. For the first of many times this will be requested you'll also get to and sign away almost every basic right. Meanwhile some bitter and often mildly retarded administrative staff member stresses over the laptop you’ve bought along. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realized enduring days of boredom was part of my rehab.”

Step three: Ditch the clothes and accept your fate. Images of cell doors closing arise as you take your last few steps and connect ass to bed. Reality truly sets in with the beginning of an IV and your first taste of your new reality - pain. “No extra charge for that sir.”

Step four: Meet the team. Your surgeon peaks his head in, smiles and asks if you’re ready. Before you’re able to cough up an answer he excuses himself because he’ll be needing a latte since he’s been up since 5am and this will be his 3rd surgery of the day. He is followed by another doctor - the anesthesiologist. This guy is either jolly and adorned with tyedied scrubs or uncomfortably calm and completely devoid of social skills. With a flick of the wrist there’s already some substance entering your blood stream and he utters one of the last phrases you’ll remember, “This will help you relax.”

Step five: Give in. Vision narrows while a team of nurses along with the anesthesiologist wheel you off down the hall through what seems like numerous doorways. When you finally arrive in the OR, almost a dozen people in blue scrubs barely take notice of your entrance as they attend to varied tasks with an urgency that is apparent even in your now severely doped state. And then, before you realize what’s happening an orderly cracks a stupid joke and the world goes dark. “Who wants to put the catheter in today folks?”

Step six: Come back from the dead. In what seems like only a moment, consciousness returns. Like waking up early in the morning after a long night at the bars, your oddly cheerful as there are still numerous narcotics in your system. Sometime in the next hour reality sets in. Intense thrist and a throbbing pain is developing. “Fuck me.”

Step seven: Survive the first night. Forget comfort. It doesn’t exist. The pain meds necessary to take the edge off interacts with anesthesia drugs causing dizziness, nausea and generalized shittiness. Hot becomes cold only to become hot again. Sleep is impossible, but you don’t even have the energy to watch TV. Take the sum of a 2 day hangover, full blown jetlag, your worst day at the office and a car accident. Now square the total. “I’d rather be anywhere else right now.”

Step eight: Adjust to life in a gown. Give up on being modest. Your gear is gonna be on full display. Life begins to feel like a never-ending plain flight where the flight attendants poke you with things and badger with the same questions over and over: “Spell your last name. What’s your birthdate? How’s your pain?” There’s no booze, but, if opiates are your thing, you won’t mind forgoing it. Coffee starts to sound good again, and that first cup of joe soothes the soul about as much as those first hits of morphine. Soon your feeling psyched and start cranking out dips on the walker and typing stupid updates on facebook. “I love you all. My friends are the best!”

Step nine: Return to the real world. Just about the time you’ve adapted to life as an infant the hospital deems you ready for life on your own. After all, you’ve demonstrated the ability to hop to the bathroom and take a shit. That same IV which initiated the adventure is removed and the staff insists that you leave by wheelchair. “Thanks folks. Keep it real!”

Currently I’m in a holding pattern at step eight. Time for another set of dips I guess.

Another Surgery

2010-08-20T10:55:00.000-07:00

From Welcome to Oregon

Stay tuned for a post about the move up to Eugene etc. The leg has suddenly become top priority once again, so I'll start with that.

A quick update on the leg situation:

So surgery is scheduled for Tuesday afternoon. Its gonna be long and involved. They've set aside 5.5 hours for it and told me that I get to stay in the hospital for 3-5 days. The Ilizarov fixator will likely be on for at least 6 months.

Doctor Beaman wants to fixate the leg AND ankle meaning I'll have rings around my foot as well and have no ankle mobility while its on (which means I'll have to start over on that front again come 2011). The reason for this is that the ankle is pretty beat up from the initial accident and the past few months of weight bearing while bent 15 degrees from where its supposed to be.

Here's Beaman's tentative plan:
-Go in and take out all the hardware
-Check to see if the bone is still alive at the main fracture site.
-If it is: Install the fixator and it'll tweak the leg straight over the next few months
-If it's dead: Cut out the dead portion, break the tibia close to the knee, pull it down to fill in the removed bone and then let the new space and the old break heal over the next few months. Think leg lengthening in the upper tibia and fracture mending in the lower tibia
-He may also decide to bone graft in either scenario and he would graft from my hip because cadaver bone is far less reliable than fresh Micah bone.
-Or he may graft a few months in depending on how things go.
-Then I camp out in the hospital so they can monitor for infection and dope the shit out of me.

From Welcome to Oregon

After initial recovery the Ilizarov is designed to handle quite a bit of punishment. I can shower, partial to full weight bear, swim, and do day to day stuff. They were fine with the scooter. The device is stable. The limiting factor is swelling and pain. They said that many people hike with these things on after a few months and that one kid even got on his trampoline. Still, there are plenty of things that can go wrong: Pin site infections, broken pins, broken wires etc. So I will have to feel things out a bit especially since the ankle will immobilized and the foot will be surrounded with metal.

From Welcome to Oregon

In Defense of Rungs

2010-07-29T09:34:00.000-07:00

One spends enough time climbing and it eventually becomes clear that half the things climbers say are total bullshit.
 
I’ve heard all kinds of ludicrous statements come out of people’s mouths over the years.

“You only need chalk once you start using it.”

“Grigris aren’t a safe belay device.”

“Campusing is a dangerous training technique and if done more than once a week will lead to injury.”

The first two don’t even deserve a response. As far as campusing goes however, there IS a little truth to this statement. Many people DO hurt themselves while training on campus boards and fingerboards, but I insist that this is case of operator error rather than faulty technology. Rarely do people approach these training tools with any sort of plan. Most start yarding on holds in an attempt to imitate their buddy who’s been slowly ramping up his workouts over the past 2 decades and their combination of poor form and weak tendons leads to... POP!

Almost one year ago, still severely anemic from blood loss and nursing a chronic shoulder injury, I hopped slowly into the shed on a walker. Since that time I’ve systematically trained my arms/hands at least 3 times/week. Its been torture at times. The tedium of endless repetition, the stiff mornings, the inevitable plateaus along the way - training isn’t easy, and that's fine with me. But guess what’s happening? No. I haven’t ruptured any tendons or torn my shoulders to pieces. I’m getting stronger - far stronger than I’ve ever been.

So for those of you that recently lost the use of your legs, or those that have any interest in climbing harder sometime in the future. Here’s a short list of articles that should help you design a program that works.

My additional advice is not only to warm up VERY slowly (good explanation on the School Room website below), and stretch your fingers and shoulders AFTER each workout, but also train the shit out of your rotator cuff. I still end every workout with 2 sets of 2 different exercises (rotated daily from a group of 6) to complete failure.

Beastmaker
The masters of all things hangboard. The name says it all.

The School Room
Tips from one of the world's epicenters of climbing specific training.

Robot Climbing
Variations on the themes above

Increasing the Calibre
More variations on the same themes

Dungeon Training
Not much training here, but notice the Beastmaker board in the title image and the list on the right. Pretty funny.

Failure Testing

2010-07-21T14:44:00.000-07:00

In a recent email, my buddy Chris Bersbach referred to my recent climbing exploits as “failure testing the hardest work of California’a medical professionals”. I jokingly responded by saying, “Oddly the only thing I've been testing to failure has been my 2 middle fingers and my rope from the numerous whippers it's catching off the crux of Hardboiled”. Well, neither Chris, nor I, nor anyone who’s watched the progress made these past months would have bet on the results of the most current Xray, but let me warm you all up properly for the “big news”.

On Sunday I loaded the Mini with some climbing gear, a small suitcase and a very special twelve pack of Olympia and headed for Bob’s cabin in Tom’s Place. Upon departure I joked that I was planning on returning Tuesday evening, but may have to stay over because Dr. Karch was surely gonna love the way the leg was looking and may want to remove some of the “now unnecessary” hardware. Everyone was psyched. After 11 months we were out of the woods and well on the road to recovery.

I arrived early in the evening to Bob and Nuke relaxing on the porch. The two had spent most of the afternoon celebrating their first big mountain together. They bagged a 12,000 ft plus peak before lunch - Nukes first “real mountain” as Bob put it. After a few warm up brews and some tasty pizza out at Convict Lake we headed home to tackle the twelve pack. After all I was roaming around the cabin cane free and was already climbing better than pre accident. So we drank the shit out of that thing, and then the following day we went and checked out the Warming Wall in Mammoth. The very short approach was the main attraction, but even in the heat, we agreed the crag had more than a few star worthy moderates. Bob noted the same phenomena that many had already noticed - while climbing I almost look healthy. I’ll say it again: The leg’s been feeling great.

Ok, now back to the xray... It didn’t take a physician to see that the bones were bowing severely - maybe 10-15 degrees in right in the middle of the main fracture site. Fuck me. Seems there’s a few explanations for this. The first is that the bones were set that way originally (but they weren’t), the second is that there’s an infection that has resurfaced and eaten away at the bones leading to their fragility, and third that the bones simply never healed and the weight I’ve been applying has slowly bent the partially healed soft bone. So, over the next few days, Dr. Karch will go over some blood test results, get ahold of my Santa Barbara films and confer with his associates to come up with a plan. He wasn’t willing to say much before doing so, but it sounds like the plan will probably be to pop out all the screws (all 17 of them plus the plate), externally fixate the leg and then slowly torque it back straight over the coming months. This is all assuming the bone is still soft and there’s no infection. Otherwise, the situation is different.

I could tell Dr. Karch was frustrated. I knew I was frustrated. He may not have been thinking this, but I sure as hell started to doubt the care I have been receiving in Santa Barbara. Most specifically the call made my the local orthopedic surgeon to start applying full body weight a few months back. Even more worrisome is that the local Doc then told me a check up would be unnecessary for 3 months. Yet somehow, over those 3 months the leg bowed a shit ton. Grrrrrr. Who knows? Of course I wanna blame someone, but maybe thats not fair.

After the appointment I got in the Mini and drove home, all the while trying to get psyched for the coming weeks. After tossing around a few extreme ideas, reality settled in. The plan is no different than its always been. The leg is gonna take a LONG time to get strong again, and maybe a little longer than I expected. Fine. I’ll keep doing what I can along the way. That means continuing to prepare for school this fall, creatively keeping myself financially afloat, and attacking the campus boards with a fury equal to the pain of a double compound fracture.

Video: 1 - 6 bump 7 triple on the bigs

Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is

2010-07-12T19:25:00.000-07:00

I’m lucky to be surrounded by athletes that know how to suffer and know how to break down boundaries. What I’m continuing to learn from them and my own experience is that boundaries are somewhat self imposed. Yes, I’m not gonna lift off the ground and fly tomorrow, or run a 4:00 minute mile next month just because I really really want to, but we all can do quite a bit more than the mainstream tells us.

Between Steve Edwards (one of the fittest almost 50 year old people on the planet and master of suffering for fun), Elijah Ball (the guy who somehow survived a bout with pneumonia that was supposed to kill him and now climbs as hard as ever, and swims better than most people), and Phil Requist (the 40 something CFO who refuses to give up on 15 year projects and is still making progress towards finishing them post shoulder surgery), and numerous others, I’m surrounded by people who don’t really believe in taking the easy route. Yes, turns out this whole success thing is predicated by a shit ton of down and dirty hard work.

I’ve mentioned that Hardboiled 5.13b is at the center of my attention these days. This route has a history of not giving in easily to suitors. She’ll take a dose of effort far beyond any other route I’ve spent time with. So Last week because of the holiday Elijah got Monday of work and we managed the drive to Santa Maria Sat and Mon to project and train on steep terrain. Then, this past weekend we camped out at Silly Rock to facilitate climbing on both Sat and Sun. In the end, things took a turn towards the epic, but no one ever said this was supposed to be easy right?

Saturday I was able to warm up well and get 3 good burns on Hardboiled. I say good, not because of redpoint potential (nowhere close), but because of the progress made on specific goals and a continued positive vibe. After a break to shoot some photos and take a look at some possible work, I took a stroll up Crocodile Hunter 5.12d, resting when necessary to relearn the moves and clip chains. Not a bad day at Mr. Lees.

Down the road past Mr. Lees Elijah and I found a groomed camp site. We set up camp, had a great meal of buffalo trip tip and grilled veggies, killed a six pack and after some interesting bug encounters, headed in separate directions to hit the sack - Elijah to a bivy sack and me to a small tent. Not to long into what seemed like deep sleep I awake to flashes outside. Of course the first half conscious thought through my head was that hicks were stocking our camp. Maybe I was dreaming about the ones from Monday that fired off an armory’s worth of guns across the canyon from the Tor. Soon reason returned with the addition of pitter patter above. No fucking way. Rain in July... here? In fact, a full blown thunder storm came through and kept both of us awake most of the night. Elijah rode things out in the bivy until just before day break and then retreated to the truck where he slept until woken a few hours later because my dumb ass couldn’t get the stove working and I needed coffee in a bad way. After some finagling with a wet lighter, coffee was on along with a carton of eggs and a full packet of bacon.

And then we tried to climb at the Tor. I should back up and point out that although it rained for most of the night, just after sunrise the clouds parted for the most part and let in the July sun that one expects out at Silly Rock. So the possible upside of cool temps that we both fixated our minds on while tossing and turning the prior night was gone with breakfast. But things were much worse than that. Like a proper thunderstorm this one left us with a Sunday humidity of like 75%. We slugged through 4 laps each and called it a day. Not the most fun anyone’s had climbing, but I think our bodies serve to respond well to the additional stress.

The plan is to keep doing this on a regular basis, but it’ll have to start out biweekly cause next Sunday I’ll be driving up to Bob’s cabin in Tom’s Place to hang out, climb, see Dr. Karch, and drink at least one twelver of Oly. Hopefully Elijah doesn’t come to his senses before I return, cause I’m gonna need a belay the following weekend.

If Only Life was a Steep Rock Face

2010-06-23T11:19:00.000-07:00

Life’s rhythm never ceases to entertain. Here I am bound to a cane with every step accompanied by resonating pain and the reminder that I’ve got a long way to go.... and I’m not even sure where I’m going. Of course my back, hips and knees feel like they’ve aged 30 years as well. What was once a fairly open and free moving system now creaks, aches, and twinges with the simplest of movements.  

But when I throw on climbing shoes, tie in on lead and start up a steep route I blow my fucking mind. A few weeks back, Justin and I decided to make a quick trip to Vegas. Of course we arrived during the peak of a massive heat wave. Yes, it was 100 degrees in Red Rocks. The strip was like 115 I think. So after cross crutching up the approach trail and fighting off a puke from our antics the night before I arrive at the Cannibal Crag. I catch my breath and manage to warm up by onsighting Caustic Cock 5.11b (top rope because of bad fall potential) and then put in good burns on Fuck This Sport 5.12b. Two days later we return and I second go redpoint Maneater 5.12a. Then I hobble out of the crag and we drive home.

Back home, the crew is very psyched Mr. Lees. Everyone’s been projecting and to be honest, I’ve felt a little left out. So a few Saturdays ago I jumped on Hardboiled 5.13b to see what all the hype was about. My performance that first day was anything but inspiring. Couldn’t do more than a few moves, and aided past half the clips, but the routes quality was VERY apparent, nonetheless. So last weekend I find myself on Phil Requist’s devil spawn of a route. Which reminds me, Hardboiled isn’t Chips Ahoy at the Tor. Two finger campusing ain’t gonna get you up this thing. Like many have said, this is a full body workout and you gotta use your feet. Nonetheless, second go of the day I manage to bolt to bolt using only the fixed draws. This isn’t usually something to brag about, but when your hardest redpoint to date is 5.12c, and you have to crawl to the bathroom in the morning, cranking out those cruxes and linking those tricky sections feels REALLY fucking good.

Andre pulling hard on The Sea of Love 5.12b

Better still, my effort was only part of an unusually successful day for the team. After months of effort and the nagging pain of his own ankle injury, Elijah harnessed his inner Crankenfrank and one falled Buddhist Palm 5.13d. A feat, I’m told, only Phil has achieved... once. And he earned it. Then Andre ties into The Sea of Love 5.12b and treats us to one hell of an exciting redpoint. Ninja screams, a fantastic freedom swing, and knee buckling clip of the chains earned her the hardest female redpoint in Santa Maria climbing history. This is the shit that makes all the hard days worth the effort. So much fun.

Elijah getting started up Buddhist Palm 5.13d

Now, an update on some past posts.

So to fund the well placed pokes of Erik Smith, I’ve been cooking meals for his family. This blog is supposed to touch on food every once in while. I mean what kind of asshole would think that people give a shit about his selfish climbing pursuits? So I thought I’d share some of the meals that they’ve been enjoying.

Sole Plaki Style; Quinoa Pilaf; Traditional Dandelion Greens
Plaki style is a pretty broad term, but I know it as a mild fish baked in a light tomato, onion and herb sauce. The mint and dill being the most distinct difference from other tomato sauces. I’ve substituted quinoa for the more traditional rice or couscous in the pilaf and the greens are prepared in the simple Greek style - boiled and then drizzled with lemon and olive oil.

Chicken, Lentil and Summer Squash Mulligatawny Stew; Black Mustard Seed Kale
A nice mellow Indian stew spiced with cumin, coriander, bay leaf, ginger, lime and cilantro. I’ve cooked some chicken liver into the stock to give it a real nice earthy flavor and nutritional boost. Black Mustard Seed Kale may be my favorite way to serve this green.

Coriander Mint Beet Cakes; Soubise; Curried Cauliflower Soup
The beet cakes are bound with chickpea flour and are vegan. Serve warm with a dollop of warm soubise on each. The soup has got some heat so swirl in a little yogurt to cool it off if necessary.

Also, I weighed myself last week, and yes, as suspected, I’ve gotten lighter. During my time on crutches I fluctuated between 175 and 180. Last week the scale read 167. How? Home cooked plant based meals, more aerobic exercise and yoga on top of the usual. And 1-5-8 wasn’t a fluke. Here’s video of me repeating the movement on my weak side the following Thursday.

Points of Health

2010-06-10T16:40:00.001-07:00

I wanna take a moment to give a huge plug.

For those in need of a Naturopath or Acupuncturist in the Santa Barbara area, I wholeheartedly recommend Erik Smith who practices through his business Points of Health. I’ve worked with, and been a patient of, numerous health practitioners in the Santa Barbara area, and I’ve had some great experiences, but no one, absolutely no one, holds a candle to Erik.

His even tempo, no nonsense yet highly intuitive approach to all things health is a refreshing reminder that one can marriage authentic with innovative. He’s well informed about other modalities, and unlike other doctors, healers, and therapists I’ve encountered, he’s very aware of when and how his techniques and knowledge base are best utilized. This, in and of itself is a rare quality in a health practitioner, and one that is often under appreciated. Above and beyond this, he is highly trained and immensely experienced. What more do you want?

I showed up in his office about a month ago and explained where I was at in the healing process. After a short exchange we came up with a plan of action that best fit with my goals, my approach to achieving them, and the work that others were already doing. My sessions with him would focus on speeding recovery from the beating that I’m putting my body through on a daily basis. So off we went.

And here’s the best part, the part that really sets him apart from all the other specialists I’ve seen - he keeps me in the loop. More specifically, every appointment he actively gears his treatment to my current mood, set of complaints, anatomy, and physiological response. He WANTS me to write him emails and tell him exactly how I respond to each treatment, and utilizing his seemingly endless bag of tricks, adjusts his approach thus effectively tracking the ever shifting “sweet spot” that is quality treatment.

It’s clear that Erik loves his work and this shines through very brightly. When I improve he smiles like a kid on Christmas morning. When things aren’t working as well, or I throw him a curve ball, I can almost see the gears start spinning in his head as he enthusiastically problem solves. I know the guy is a busier than ever. He’s often tripled booked and oh yeah, he’s a new father, but when Erik’s in the room he’s focused, very focused.

And I’m not the only one who thinks so. Both my parents, my youngest brother, and close friends have all been patients of his, and they all rave about his approach. “He’s so nice!” “I can’t believe how good I feel!” “I thought he was gonna make me change my diet, but I am picky as all hell about food so instead he did something else that I could handle!” Erik is attentive and flexible enough to hone in on just what it is patients are looking for and then crafts his treatments and recommendations to best suit their constitution, attitude and motivation. You really can’t ask for more than that.

Check out Points of Health on the web at www.pointsofhealth.org

Pinch Me... I Must be Dreaming

2010-06-10T10:15:00.000-07:00

All athletes, artists, and scientists have experienced “break through” moments. After months, years, decades of focused effort towards an accomplishment of some goal, the dam gives way and the river explodes through the flood gates. While part of me believes that the journey is its own reward, everyone enjoys this fleeting moment of success, and there doesn’t seem to be much rhyme or reason to when we’re touched by the muse. In fact the only common thread I’ve noticed in my personal breakthroughs is that they almost always occur when I least expect them, and last Thursday night is the perfect example.

After a long day of rehab, acupuncture, work and errands, I dragged my ass down to The Shed for what I could only assume would be a shitty campus board session. Thursdays have been my “big move, big rung” night, which although far more forgiving on my fingers seems to require more energy than the more fingery workouts I do earlier in the week. My goal was to make it through a list of combinations I’d done in the past. It was essentially going to be a maintenance night.

After completing a few warm up sets I was feeling a little better and decided to try 1-4-7 a few times just for shits and giggles. The rest of my workout was already planned out and most of the sets were long easy and sort of boring. I might as well give my long term (read: like since I learned to campus back at the 911 Castle in 1999) project a try right? Yes, after all these years I’ve never done what many call the entry level movement to real campus board work.

And what do you know? I hike it leading with my good arm - like I had to double check to make sure I was on the right rung. Rad. “Ok, lets try this with the bad arm, just for fun to see how far away I am”. Again, a hike to 7. “WTF?” Of course Phil, the boys, and I are psyched. “Might as well try 1-5-7.” First go leading with my good hand I pull to 7 and notice my hand gliding past it even though I’ve already eased off the gas, yet I still hit 7.5. “Um....” Next try I slap 8. 1-5-8. Out of fucking nowhere. And I was literally a millimeter away from it on my bad side. For those that don’t campus much let me try and shed some light on how utterly ridiculous this improvement is. It ain’t much different than having a personal best of 5:30 in the mile and then getting up one morning and almost breaking 4:00. Unheard of. This shit doesn’t happen very often.  
So what happened? Although part of me still believes that I was dreaming there are a few factors that must have been involved. First off, the previous week on the board I did a weighted workout (10 lbs). It didn’t feel so bad during the session, but my elbows definitely felt it the following day. Secondly, I had a light session on Tuesday, because I tweaked my finger. And third, (I should get on a scale to confirm), I must be lighter. For some reason, my appetite has been really light the past few weeks and I’ve been training like a madman, so I can only assume this is the case.

Now, if I can only get this damn leg to start working for me....

Video: Rich Simpson demonstrates 1-5-8.5 on small rungs.

Neverending Winter

2010-05-18T12:48:00.000-07:00

As the weather heats up on the Central Coast, many have headed outdoors to pursue their activity of choice. While I have managed a few quick outings into roadside wilderness, the bulk of my day is still spent in dark dusty places logging numerous hours of training. I feel oddly British training inside for hours on end, keeping motivation up with coffee and tea, and eating whatever I can get my hands on to recover. Then again, I also feel a bit like a caged tiger, pacing, or I should say limping, laps around a small confined territory. Like the caged cat, I’m on a hair trigger - ready to pounce on any opportunity to escape, but like a Brit, I’m trying to channel this anxiety. Ideally I’ll end up with enough of the condensed product to not only support morale during the daily tedium and pain of training, but also to store as I plan for future years. Hopefully this stuff will serve as a secret weapon of sorts to catalyze that ever so difficult first step out the door on subsequent adventures and challenges.

It really is a case of “be careful what you ask for...”. Shed and Castle affiliates have often joked about how awesome a jail sentence could be - just you and your body stuck in a room with just enough food to survive and absolutely no responsibilities to fracture attention. “We’d get so fit.” While I’ve undoubtedly eaten better than a prisoner, and enjoyed all sorts of other luxuries reserved for the innocent, this has been an interesting look into what’s possible when all of one’s training is confined to a single room with only basic equipment. The situation is even more interesting, because not more than a year ago I got in a knock down drag out argument with, yes you guessed it, Elijah over my complete lack of interest in training indoors. This was of course at a time when I was contributing to a major lull in activity at The Shed by continually getting paid to cook for people on the road and then funding short trips in between with my earnings (sorry, my bad). I kept telling him how I had too many injuries to train at the Shed and how I was convinced it couldn’t help my climbing anymore. His response was to simply doubt my masculinity. Well, take it all in dude. It’s not often that Micah’s gonna tell you how right you were. Yes, training power IS necessary AND far more fun than I remember.

I reminded myself of all this on Saturday. Most of the weekend was spent cooking for a client, so I was unable to join the gang in Santa Maria. Thus my only option was a quick trip to The Shed during an afternoon break. After traversing the base of the wall a few times I was sort of at a loss for how to climb any up problems without begging the gods for another hospital visit. My solution was not only “mom approved”, but highly inspiring as well. The UK is undoubtably home to many of the smallest yet brutally set woodies in the world. A closet is more than enough space for these maniacs to build a wall that will make 8a’s feel like warm ups and The Shed wall is frickin massive compared to those things.

Enter the British Standard.

It’s simple, and as mentioned above, well tested. Routes can only be one panel long (which means they end just above head high). Only wood chips and tracking feet are allowed. Obviously foot holds are the preferred handholds in this scenario, because your buddies will be giving you shit for pulling on jugs when the routes are only 3-4 moves long. Stack this with your caffeinated beverage of choice, mind the jessery, and you’re on your way to hiking Hubble.

Video Note: This wall is on the big side by British Standard, but the use of space is very respectable.

Chairmen of the board from beastmaker.co.uk on Vimeo.

“You need to lower your expectations.”

2010-05-11T15:00:00.000-07:00

Yeah. That’s what Dr. Proctor said last week. Now, before you get all up in arms about how much of an asshole he is (because he’s not), understand that this comment was in response to my mentioning that I may have plans to run 30 miles for my 30th birthday. Of course, I only brought this up to drive home the point that I’m not just looking to walk. I’m looking to run, climb, jump, karate kick a tree stump and all the rest. Big talk from a guy that still doesn’t leave the house with at least one crutch, but while I have been called fragile by more than a few, I don’t plan on adding unmotivated or permanently disabled to the list. Furthermore, I wonder if Dr. Proctor, who like Dr. Karch is a US Ski and Snowboard Team Physician, may have been utilizing some reverse psychology. Surely he’s got some idea how serious a lad like myself is about recovery. Could it be that his professional opinion really is that I simply need more wood on the fire - that “the little chef that could” pampering I may be used to has run its course and that now its time for some good old fashioned competitive drive? Well, whatever the case, I’d like to take this opportunity to publicly thank you Dr. Proctor. You’ve given me something to shoot for. Guess who’s still got plans to be running a year from now and guess who’s gonna get a rad signed photo of someone doing it?

Some recent accomplishments:
2 TR redpoints of Slough of Despair 5.12a in one day
Balancing on the bad leg for more than a few seconds
Multiple mile+ hikes on my feet
Dolphin kicking a single 25 on one breath.

And if all fails - I’ll just buy a singlet and move into the shed to pursue something truly worthwhile.

Awakening

2010-04-21T14:02:00.000-07:00

I’ll never forget more than a few prominent moments in my life. That first awkward kiss; winning the county math superbowl in 4th grade; grabbing my ankles while backbending in yoga; and that time I was diving in Bali and was convinced that the blurry object in the distance was a massive shark, fully panicked, and then discovered its true identity: a large arching rock.

And now, 2 finger campusing. Elijah, Phil and others who walked the halls of the Castle during the days of old have proclaimed the virtues of this almost forgotten art form. Granted it is only one step, albeit an important one, on the way towards enlightenment. For as long as I can remember I‘ve heard tales of glory and defeat. Some have achieved greatness through their commitment to the truth while others have walked away, their faith lost after years of devotion. The path to mono campusing is long and hard, but it truly is the only path worth walking. The way I understand it as follows:

In the beginning, God created mono campusing. God looked down on this creation and seeing the purity in it proclaimed “This is good. This is very good.” For a short while the universe was beautiful, joyous and strong. Mono campusing shined alone as the pinnacle of God’s creations. Man and animal alike reveled in unbounded ecstasy. But slowly over the course of many millenia the fire that is mono campusing has slowly dwindled as man’s craving for truth has been replaced with greed, envy and sloth. Now only a few modern day saints have committed themselves to developing the fortitude necessary to practice this holy of all holys. While us soiled mortals may never reach this level of enlightenment, the sages believe that campusing of any sort can help us begin the process of discovering our true nature and honoring our creator. As our souls are unearthed, those that can withstand the inner turmoil of spiritual cleansing and hold back the demons that will undoubtedly tempt them may begin to travel the rungs with less and less fingers. With 3 fingers propelling the body towards the heavens one often receives their first visions of the potential power that is housed in the tendons, but its not until the index finger (the seat of the ego) is dropped and the hand falls into balance that one may taste of our true nature. The old texts say that this first taste, while often accompanied by chakra openings, visions of the Mother Mary and levels of stoke only matched by The Planet C, is only a small fraction of what mono campusing has to offer.

I always believed this to be some sort of fairytale or myth, but now I understand. Last week I brought two fingers to wood, pulled down, and with a small leap of faith, blasted open my soul yet a little bit further. In those few short moments I know I witnessed something beyond time and space. 2 finger campusing has given me hope. Life will never be the same again. The old tales are not myth. They are truth.

"I know what you're going through"

2010-04-09T11:58:00.000-07:00

Civilian training diaries are usually pretty boring blog posts. A diary excerpt from Jack Lalanne, Bruce Lee, or Wolfgang Gullich would be absolutely riveting, but alas, I’m not quite up to their standard. So I try not to post much about the specifics of my training.

However, people love a good comeback story. I still can't walk very far without crutches and I feel beat to shit right now. This might be why:

Note: Tue was very similar in volume except that I was on the fingerboard at the shed instead of Vertical Heaven. Wed entailed 8 hours on 2 feet cooking for a client which didn’t help the swelling situation very much.

Thursday

Home, 11am
stationary bike - 40 minutes
core stabilizers - one set to failure all 4 planes
yoga - 15 minutes
ice - 20 minutes

Alta Orthopedics, 1pm
stationary bike - 10 minutes
calf extensions - 3 sets
theraband inward/outward - 2 sets each
wobbly plane thing - 2 sets spinning each direction
box step ups onto half exercise ball - 3 sets
dorsal flexion - 4 sets to complete failure
resisted negative squats (think toe hook and knee raise) - 2 sets to complete failure
incline treadmill walking with perfect stride - 10 minutes
hell massage - 10 minutes
ice - 15 minutes

Vertical Heaven, 7:30 pm
push ups - 3 sets
assorted stretching and warming - 10 minutes
routes - 5 laps 5.9 - 5.11
front levers - 3 sets
face down T to Y shoulder prehab - 2 sets
modified lateral raise shoulder prehab - 2 sets
stretching - 10 minutes

Home, 11pm
ice - 15 minutes
bone stimulator - 30 minutes

Turkey Update

2010-04-08T10:54:00.000-07:00

I just noticed these videos posted on Facebook. Seems North Face decided Turkey was worth the investment. Freedom is a Battle 8b was FA'd while I was at JoSiTo. They didn't shoot the moves very well in the video, but you get a good idea of how nice the area is. Makes me think about my undone projects over there....

FREE RANGE TURKEY_dispatch #2 from camp4 collective on Vimeo.

Nice Moves H

2010-04-05T13:06:00.000-07:00

It’s official. This fall I’ll begin work on an MBA at University of Oregon’s Lundquist College of Business. UO looks to be a great fit for your’s truly. Eugene is a great place to live. The average local seems to be casual with an artistic bend and well connected to the natural landscape. There’s a well grounded local food culture with farmers and artisans producing everything imaginable. And lets not forget the numerous opportunities for adventure. Smith Rock, arguably one of the most prominent climbing areas in the country, is a few hours away. Also, I figure Tracktown USA is the perfect place for one to learn how to walk. My guess is The “University of Nike” has a more than a few runners and therapists in stock. Yeah, it rains in the winter. It rains allot in the winter, and even though some of my closet friends are folks that fled the pacific northwest because of this, I’m game to keep a shell close by for 6 months out of the year.

After all “anytime’s good for climbing” - something I believe was demonstrated this weekend at Mr. Lee’s. The ladies were out in numbers on Saturday. Andre AND Bridget graced us oafs with their presence. Oh, and what’s that red tornado tearing around in the back seat? Oh yeah, Bosco tagged along as well, psyched to train frisbee fetch on the uneven terrain at the crag all day long. True to form, the girls started the day hustling everyone into thinking they might be in over their heads. Andre might as well have been leading Shores of Hell 5.11b when she danced up it last go of the day and Bridget on her 2nd day back climbing since my accident (so more or less off the couch) did all the moves on the same route after getting her confidence back on one of the 5.10’s in the canyon below the main crag. I spent my day projecting Shores of Hell with the ladies and even after four goes was only able to one fall it on top rope. Given the fact that my leg is so weak I wouldn’t even consider climbing up the approach slab to the sun deck or the base of Hardboiled (meaning unable to hike 4th class), I’m fairly pleased with this performance. On gently overhanging rock, a passer by might think I’m merely an intermediate climber. As soon as the angle changes much in either direction, I quickly become useless and my cover is blown. As for the boys projecting the hard routes - nothing much to report. In my mind there’s a tie for best moment of the day. It’s either when I greased off a “wet pocket” only to discover that I’d unknowingly vaporized a small black caterpillar with my atomic pocket pulling power (all that remained was green liquid and scattered black hairs) or Andre’s quote, “Hey, why hasn’t anyone bolted the rock over here? It’s just a shitty as all the rest of it. Oh wait, they have.” Classic.

A TR Tough Guy's Last Meal

2010-04-02T09:59:00.001-07:00

Yesterday Bridget and I made the journey down to Vertical Heaven in Ventura to embrace our inner top rope tough guy (credit goes to Andy for this term). I for one shredded high in the tough guy ratings. I mean when you have to dismount crutches to get on the wall thats high on the scale right? In the end we both performed well considering. Even though its been almost a year since she last put on shoes, Bridget climbed in her usual intuitive style cranking out moves far harder than she probably realizes. I managed to flash a few 5.10’s on TR and came one move from sending a 5.11. All in all I’m pretty inspired. As for the rippers at VH - well they just seemed confused as is usually the case. Take for example the pair that spent well over an hour pho multi pitching around the entire gym. It seems that at least one of the two was still learning how it all worked. I say this because I had to remind him that he wasn’t tied into the rope when he set off to follow the first “pitch”. Vertical Heaven never disappoints.

Union Ale, the new pub and restaurant in the old Couche building next to Reds, did however let both of us down. We’d eaten there a few times just after their grand opening. Seems things have slipped a little since then. We ordered a salad and two burgers. I also ordered a side of collard greens for myself (Bridget wasn’t feeling the collards). Seems simple enough right? First the salad comes out. As soon as its set down I noticed more than a few yellow pieces of lettuce - like old lettuce that the cooks didn’t pick through. Thanks bros. So we removed all of the offending pieces and piled them on a separate plate. The burgers arrive about 10 minutes later, brought out by the manager himself. He sets them down and offers his apologies. Seems they decided to put collards on Bridget’s burger (they left mine plain) and melt the cheese into them. “Do you mind? I brought another side of collards on the side. I hope thats ok.” he says. Bridget points out that she didn’t ask for any collards anywhere near her plate so yes she minded and could they remove them, melt some cheese on another bun and bring it out. He says sure, grabs the plate and disappears. Curious about the greens I take a bite. Two complaints. My collard greens were not only cold, but they weren’t collards, they were spinach. Um... interesting. Almost another 10 minutes later the manager arrives with Bridget’s burger. “Sorry. They decided to remake the whole thing.” Not really necessary, but thanks for letting my lady wait while the already cold food gets colder. I thank him for “taking care of us” and hand him the plate with the old lettuce on it. “You might want to show this to the kitchen and make sure they are checking the lettuce.” He thanks me and walks off only to return and inform us that he’s just gone through all the greens in the kitchen and that all the rest were fine. He also explained to me that the yellow greens are supposed to be that color. I just about lost it. “Dude, not to be a total pain in the ass, but I work as a chef, and trust me when I tell you that those yellow greens are yellow because they’re old, not because they’re supposed to be yellow. That’s arugula and that’s red leaf lettuce. Neither of those are yellow. Trust me.” He apologizes for making shit up and walks off. Meanwhile Bridget is halfway through her burger that she’s been waiting for since her climbing shoes came off. I look over and watch as she pulls a whole red chili pepper out of her mouth. Hmmm. That’s not supposed to be there. There ARE marinated onions on Union Ale’s burgers, so I suppose the chili was in their marinade and accidentally ended up on my girlfriends burger and that it was not put there as some sort of “fuck you” from the kitchen staff. Either way, we were both finished with the place. We left immediately.

Union Ale is yet another, now all too common, Santa Barbara establishment which believes that fancy decor, cute waitresses (that aren’t really waitresses because customers have to stand in line to order from the bar), and a downtown location justifies the price paid for a meal. Those that promote this sort of lazy, entitled, and ignorant from of business are helping to create “The Brave New Santa Barbara”, a town where glitz and glamour are valued high above any amount of depth, talent, or creativity. I will not eat or drink a single thing at Union Ale ever again and I suggest you do the same. If all goes well, they’ll crash and burn in a year just like their predecessors.

The Pimp Limp

2010-03-30T12:30:00.000-07:00

That’s what the high school kids are calling it anyways. Proctor took a quick look at the newest xrays and gave me the green light to experiment with full body weight on the broken leg.

With the aid of a walking cast, I can take maybe 10 steps before the pain is too much to bear (and I’d like to think that I’ve developed a decent pain tolerance). However, with one crutch acting as a less stylish cane, Mr. Elconin pimp limped his ass all over the Santa Barbara High school campus on Friday. Motivated by this small accomplishment I drove home and jumped on the exercise bike in the basement/wine cellar at the new Elconin compound. Over the past month I’ve ramped things up on the bike. In walking cast, I’ve approached 10 mile rides more than once, but on Friday I traded cast for shoe and had to back off sort of allot. I think I cranked out 1.75 miles in 30 minutes, a time I could have easily smoked on crutches, but it sure felt good to get the ankle moving.

Now if my poor little (actually its now almost as big as the right thanks to massive swelling) leg thought Friday was a shock, it was in for quite a surprise over the weekend. Remember the clients I was working with just before my dance with death? Well, they called last month and wanted me back, even if the butler and maid had to pick up the slack while I hobbled around on crutches. So Saturday and Sunday were on the calender as two full workdays on my feet. However, Saturday is first and foremost a training day. The other rippers had plans to dominate Mr. Lee’s, so I woke up early and made my way down to the Shed around 7am. Of course, I get there and the whole building is locked and the one key in my possession doesn’t open the main door. I call Phil and he offers to come let me in on his way to Santa Maria at 8:20. Hmmm, over an hour stuck in the parking lot. Fuck it. I take shit all time for the length of my warm up (Does a lion warm up....?) which takes nearly an hour, so I just got busy with my gimpy self in the parking lot. Push ups, core work, yoga, prehab - all without a walking cast. By the end of this active loitering I was feeling pretty confident on my leg. In fact when Phil arrived I walked about 30 meters over to meet him with only the aid of one crutch. He didn’t seem to give a shit. This combined with Elijah’s constant shit talking and over 7 months of pent up cranking urges inspired the workout that followed. Bring the “new cruelty”.

After limping to the chalk bag and doing a few laps of ladders to nine on the campus board, it became very clear to me that climbing on the wall was totally fine. I decided that if I could get a pair of climbing shoes on, I’d do a lap on the jug route, mantle the wall and “walk off” the back side. Soon, the shoes were on and I was sitting under the wall wondering how the divets on the foot board were gonna feel. Only one way to find out right? Unbelievably, climbing on the wall felt sort of good - much better than walking in fact. Hanging at the top of the wall I decided that I’d skip the mantle and down climb the same route. Again, no big deal. Huh. Motivated and psyched to a level rarely enjoyed by the human species, I managed to traverse the wall in both directions as well. Sorry Mom.

At least I spent the rest of the weekend actually making some money. Cooking required more than the usual buckets of energy. By the end of both days, I felt more like I’d run a marathon than prepared lunch and dinner for two. This crash course in bipedal locomotion, although not for the faint of heart, got me going in the right direction without too much delay. This week I’ll continue to step it up. Official P.T. starts today and the rest of the week will be filled with progressively longer walks around the neighborhood, more stationary bike work, some toproping and if all goes well, a trip to Mr. Lee’s this weekend..... for photos of course Mom.

First Day Climbing

2010-03-22T10:15:00.000-07:00

Well... not really, but compared to my current average day of coffee shop internet sessions and substitute teaching the first day of the season at Mr. Lee’s was a full blown adventure. Breaking trail by crutch through spring’s tall grass and negotiating mud and slick river rock took much more energy than one might expect. I’ve gotten pretty damn good on two poles and a leg, but as soon as I take the party off the groomed streets of the city and into the woods I feel more or less useless. Lets put it this way: It took me about 20 minutes to get into Mr. Lees. For those not in the know, Mr. Lees isn’t more than 400 meters from the car. Yes, I wasn’t moving very fast. Justin and Elijah were kind enough to fix a few lines for me and I managed to to snap a few decent shots. By the end of the day I’d hiked at most a 1/2 mile and ascended 60 meters or so. Back at the car, I could have sworn I’d just spent the day projecting Crocodile Hunter 5.12d with Shamoo and the Pinotphile. To add to this suspicion, as soon as the engine started, my body, unable to hold itself up straight, collapsed into the window. As soon as we hit the highway, I was asleep. Ladies and Gentlemen: Santa Maria is open for the season.

Oregon in 48 hours

2010-03-17T12:04:00.000-07:00

Portland State was a mixed bag. The school advertises that its the largest in Oregon, but look at the fine print and you’ll discover that more than 2/3’s of their students are part time. Its a massive commuter school that is trying hard to compete with the other research universities in Oregon. From what I can gather they’re only sort of accomplishing this.

After negotiating a grim parking situation I arrived at the small business office housed just outside of downtown Portland. The admissions coordinator whom I had set a meeting with was out sick, so they set up a meeting with two other individuals, who made very clear that they were scrambling to cover for their sick colleague. The plan was simple. They didn’t really have one. We talked and I offered up my concerns about the large disparity in cost now that UO had offered a scholarship. The team quickly responded to this with an offer of a Graduate Assistantship position (They pay my whole tuition and I do 10 hours/week of remedial administrative work - i.e. sit at a desk and study). Not a bad deal.

The rest of the day was pretty straight forward. I crashed an accounting class that was actually fairly impressed. The professor was obviously making an effort to moisten the dry playing field that is corporate accounting. After class we set off on a quick tour of the nearby campus buildings including the brand new Rec center which was decked out with all the essentials and a 30 ft climbing wall that I’m told was designed after Smith Rock. You know, jugs everywhere - just like Smith. I was also treated to lunch at one of the many food stalls that litter Portland’s streets. For five or six bucks one can get a big old plate of just about any ethnic creation imaginable. That’s something to brag about. In the end, Portland State’s real appeal is Portland. Even the school clings to this as their main marketing theme. For some, the thrill and excitement of the city is enough to reel them in.

My plan was to get out of Portland Tuesday evening, but before leaving checked out the theatre I discovered across the street from Clyde Common. The Living Room is one of those new hip spots that sports a full bar and restaurant in the front of the house. Patrons can catch a pre, post or mid film meal at a reasonable price. I arrived during happy hour so was able to enjoy more than one local brew before plopping my crippled ass down on a comfy couch where I mowed into a plate of cured meats and a massive salad, while a hard to find showing of the The North Face lit up the screen. It’s been about 40 years since someone made a decent feature film about climbing, but The North Face might have ended the slump, and yes, I was just as surprised as you are. But think of it this way: It’s in German. It’s about the Eiger. Its a true story. And the ending doesn’t suck. Now, this is no Eiger Sanction (training scenes yes, but no George or Oly so ....?), but the story has some similar twists.

In the few days they had to plan, UO slapped together a full day of class visits, meetings and touring. Also, I had the pleasure of meeting another fine gentlemen who was checking out the program named Sergio. We hit it off right away. Born in Mexico, he’s spent the last few years working for GE as an accountant. With a history of knee problems his love for soccer has been transformed into a cycling addiction. I enjoyed hearing about his adventures riding across most of Europe. After three meetings, two classes, lunch and a short tour of campus an offer to meet up with a number of students and faculty at the local watering hole was one that the two of us weren’t gonna turn down.

Not too surprisingly, the four hours spent drinking at the pub were some of the most productive hours of the day. Yes, the beer was tasty, but the numerous people I was able to chat with gave a great feel for what UO and its business program are all about. We also got some great beta for dinner. Sergio and I were quick to jump on the suggestion to eat at Papa’s Soul Kitchen. Jerk chicken and collard greens? Sold. Of course good food motivated a few more stops, and not too long after midnight both of us were slowing down after a long day on our feet (or foot). As I was organizing all the shit from the day, and idea popped into my head. I did want to spend Thursday exploring the Oregon coast and taking the long way back to Portland. “Why not drive to the coast tonight so I can have the whole day to check things out?” It was only two hours away and I had some leftover coffee.

I arrived at the coast around 3 am and the coffee’s effects were fading fast. Of course it was also dark, and I had no idea where I was, or what the supposed towns up ahead were like. So one can’t really fault me for pulling off the road, parking behind a large bush and attempting to catch some shut eye till the morning. Even if I found one, I sure as shit wasn’t gonna pay $50 for a few hours in a motel.

Well... not five minutes after relaxing into the back seat, I awoke to headlights in my face. Yep. Cops. They hassled me for more than a short while with all the usual late night cop questions. Along the way I learned that I was more or less shredding. Although the previous 100 miles of road were completely remote, not a half mile up the road a small coastal town actually existed. So my park and camp was not much different than pulling off the 154 just outside of Los Olivos. Whoops. I spent the next 45 minutes searching the nearby area for a campground, eventually found it and passed out immediately.

At dawn I awoke, very cold and not exactly energized by the nights sleep.
When I tell me people in Santa Barbara that I’m planning on moving to Oregon, they usually respond with some concern about the “terrible weather” that haunts the Pacific Northwest. Sure, it rains... allot, but after a quarter lifetime’s worth of 72 and clear skies, I’d like to get a taste for real weather. Thursday morning, the Oregon coast did not disappoint. For the entirety of the 250 some odd miles of the 101 I covered on my way back to Portland, I was treated to a showing of at least part of the coast’s potential. Rain, wind and more wind followed by more rain. In fact, during one attempted photo shoot my crutches were literally blown away and I had to hop after them. Hey, at least I wasn’t fighting the crowds at all the good viewpoints.

Back at Portland airport I made an interesting discovery. After crutching my luggage from the rental car return to the check in counter, and being called “a real pain in the ass” by the slightly bitter security check women. I sat down for a pint of beer and a sandwich. My bill: $7.75. At an airport. Fantastic. Turns out this establishment has made a good business out of charging legitimate prices for drinks and food. Next time I’ll arrive the prescribed two hours early.

Will Crutch for Scholarships

2010-03-09T10:10:00.000-08:00

The morning of March 5th I awoke to a hangover of birthday proportions. Yes, although there was no official drinking challenge this year, I still managed to knock back a substantial amount. Bottles of wine at Julianne were followed by numerous tequila shots with The Boss, otherwise known as Blake, at the Blue Agave. The best part: I was scheduled to teach “we don’t give a fuck” low level english at SBHS - not my favorite class. Anyways, after surviving the 6 hours of classroom warfare I got home and flipped open my computer only to find a slightly belated birthday present in my mailbox.

“Dear Micah, I am delighted to admit you to the Oregon MBA and its Innovation/Entrepreneurship track for this fall. In recognition of your outstanding qualifications moreover, I would like to offer you a $9,000 scholarship for the first year....”

So now I find myself somewhere in Portland plopped on a modern couch sipping a cappuccino with almond croissant crumbs all over my laptop keys. Actually, the crumbs are quickly disappearing into my mouth as I’m typing with one hand at the moment. Anyways, Portland State sent an acceptance letter a few weeks prior as well and both schools would prefer to hear back from me sometime soon, so I decided to a jump on a plane and haul my ass around western Oregon for a few days to check out the scene.

I got in around eight last night and after what seemed like a short adventure race at the airport, found my way to a shitty little motel near the university. Had I been in Santa Barbara after nine on a Monday, the rest of the evening would’ve been spent watching 24 and drinking Modelos by myself, but in a real city, like Portland, I had options.

A short drive got me to the heart of the Cultural District just down the street from the famous Powell Books. Crutching down the streets on the look out for a place to warm my belly and hands (note to self: bring gloves for cold weather crutching because 40 degree aluminum numbs out the hands quick), I noticed a place called Clyde Common was packed, so I gave it a go.

Roasted quail, blood sausage, tasty little green salad, and a gin and house made tonic later and the cold didn’t seem so bad. Scanning the restaurant I couldn’t help but laugh to myself as tattooed hipsters all wearing different tones of grey sipped rosé and neon orange cocktails. I kept waiting for someone to ride their fixy through the restaurant, but soon discovered that the adjacent lobby had a half dozen propped against the furniture. I chatted with a few people, paid my tax free bill and headed home to get some rest.

In about an hour I’ve got a meeting set with the admissions staff at Portland State. They’ve got quite a task ahead of themselves if they expect to convince me that their school’s price tag which is more than twice that of Oregon (before scholarship) is worthwhile.

Harvesting O2

2010-03-04T11:57:00.000-08:00

I wasn’t expecting much this morning when I sat up in bed and had a go at 29 breaths in 29 minutes, but managed to surprise myself nonetheless. With a PR of about half of my challenge just days before, its pretty clear that I found some greater level of motivation. My game plan was simple: Keep going until I complete the damn thing or wake up on my back dizzy and disoriented.

Breath retention does involve a number of physical components, but I’m learning more and more that when really pushing one’s limits (or at least when it feels that way) the mind becomes the main limiter to performance. Holding your breath, especially over a long period of time, isn’t comfortable. Our body does many things to “encourage” us to take in regular and ample amounts of O2. From physical reflexes to powerful thought patterns, the old brain is quick to remind us that it likes to be fed. Unlike traditional apnea, where one retains a single breath for a very long time, my pranayama style challenge was more about finding away to maintain homeostasis under severe, but not complete oxygen restriction. That one lungful of air that I was allowed every minute needed to quench the thirst. These breathes, while very, very nice when they came around each minute often felt like a tease. I, like you, am addicted to air, so “once it touches your lips” it takes some will power to not gulp down quite a bit more. Don’t believe me? Give it a try. I found by the second half of the challenge that air started to taste almost sweet, much like that first hit of water (or... ahem.... beer) after a long run.

As things started to get grim around breath 12 or 13, my body broke out into a cold sweat, which I think was useful in chilling my external limbs a bit more thus producing a pho dive reflex symptom (a plus). As the air started to taste sweet I focused my attention onto not only taking in maximum breaths, but consciously absorbing the O2 from those breathes for the entirety of the retention. Its’s anyone’s guess whether one can actually ask their lungs to absorb O2 more efficiently, but I know for a fact that the visualization made it feel like that was happening. The end result was a greater sense of calm, a perfect internal focus point, and a sense of empowerment that greatly increased my ability to perform when things felt grim.

Like allot of endurance tests I’ve been through, the last 15-20% felt much easier than the previous chunk of exertion. I wonder if one breath/minute is sustainable indefinitely? I don’t plan on finding out any time soon. Hopefully next year’s challenge will take place somewhere other than my bedroom.

Honing the Anchor Punch

2010-02-24T11:47:00.000-08:00

The upside of any injury is adaptation, unless of course you’re really into depression and apathy, but we’ll stick with the former for now. As I mentioned in a prior post, I’ve been sweating out my cabin fever at the nucleus of Santa Barbara County’s climbing universe (well, for those in the know at least), The Shed. Like any half witted climber I’ve accepted the loss of my legs as an ascent vehicle and focused my lust on upper body strength. Normally, this probably wouldn’t have been that big of a deal, because all the best climbing focused strength training is done without feet anyways. However, with my beat to shit shoulders and propensity for training induced injury, I was more than a little hesitant when I began what’s turned into a 6 month power focused training cycle.

However, and if you’re anywhere near wood give it a knock for me, the results have been pretty damn inspiring. Admittedly, I more or less learned to climb in this sort of training environment. While this may have not been the most productive use of my time as a beginner, it did teach me allot about what works and what doesn’t in the gym. Training at your limit is all about “slow and steady”. Methodical and calculated progression leads to success and anything else leads to injury. Period.

Six months ago, my shoulders felt so unstable that the thought of doing pull ups, let alone campusing, was frightening. Yes, I could climb, and climb sort of hard, but my arms and shoulders were a big liability.

Skip ahead to last night and things seem dramatically different. One of my long term “maybe I can do that someday” goals has always been to hang the shallow monos on the Yaniro Powerboard. I've seen Phil "Austrian Finger" Requist dominate those little divets of joy but I never thought I'd get there. Well, last night I didn’t just hang them, I did a short set (two 3 second hangs with a 10 second rest between) on them with my middle finger and then a while later, my ring finger. Massive gains in pocket strength? Check. Then I walked over to the pull up bar and cranked out one arm triples on each arm with only one pinky pad taking weight off. So, one arms, something else I’ve never been able to do (and sort of gave up on because of the shoulders)? Probably sometime very soon - Check.

The latter of these two is sort of mind bending because I’m told that there’s a SLAP lesion in my left shoulder (a tear in the labrum at one of the bicep attachments). On the subject of my shoulders, they aren’t any less fucked up and hurt/restrict/annoy all the time, but I’ve been able to adapt my techniques and strengthen healthy tissue enough to support fairly intense stress, or so it seems. My guess is that a surgery is still very necessary, but for the time being, the engine may be able to handle quite a bit of RPMs and Mr. Glass (one of the many affectionate nick names Elijah has gifted me) is enjoying the shit out of it.

The Little Leg that Could

2010-02-19T17:05:00.000-08:00

Thursday, I celebrated 6 months on crutches with yet another doctors appointment. After going through the now all too familiar procedure of check in, snap photos, and lie in examination room for undetermined amount of time, Dr. Proctor arrived. The xrays were mounted on the slide screen, and to both of our surprise, the bones looked... better. Now, don’t get too excited, there are still obvious fractures all over the place. However, the pitch black rivers and lakes carved out between bone fragments are much less pronounced than six weeks ago. The combination of a bone stimulator (finally arrived after over two months of insurance/medical office bullshit), combined with a solid dose of self prescribed physical therapy is unquestionably creating dramatic results. Lets put it this way: There was more visible growth in the past month than in all of the first five months combined.

In fact, things looked so good that Proctor ended our short appointment with the suggestion to start putting some weight on the leg. The addition of weight to the almost forgotten bones and connective tissue of my lower left leg should truly supercharge the recovery process. Of course, this also means that there is now a strong possibility that a rodding procedure (popping the screws, drilling out the entire tibia shaft and stuffing it with a titanium rod) will be unnecessary. Needless to say I’m psyched.

Initially recovery was all about saving my foot. Over the past 3 months the goal has been to stimulate growth in the leg bones. Now begins phase three of recovery - learning to walk. But in the meantime, I’ve got some celebrating to do, and there’s a special twelve pack of Oly that I’m gonna need some help with. Bob? Bridget? Elijah?

When the Sea Doesn't Want You

2010-01-28T09:35:00.000-08:00

My birthday is quickly approaching and we all know what that means. Last year I let shoulder problems de-rail what could have been the perfect challenge - redpointing an Aussie grade 28 (5.13a). Creative use of 28 yes, but given the fact that I was working in Australia during my entire birthday month, this performance based challenge seemed the perfect follow up to the more “traditional” challenge I conquered in honor of my 27th.

Now in 2010 with yet another birthday on the horizon, I once again have a few, ahem... issues, that seem to be restricting my ability to train and perform. Even with a growing list of physical ailments, I’ve come up with a challenge that should be sort of interesting.

Over the course of 29 minutes, take no more than 29 breathes.

Ever since the accident I’ve returned to a regular pranayama (breath control) practice. Breath work is not only safe for the the fragile, but also is a highly effective centering practice. A far cry from the emptiness of deeper states discoverable through more esoteric forms of meditation, yet more essential than the flow state encountered in asana (pose) practice, pranayama pays huge dividends to the body and mind. Back in my “yogi” days, I regularly woke up well before dawn and did a solid 30 minutes of breathwork prior to 2 hours of asana. I love this shit. Like asana and other body based practices, the idea is to sort of trick trick mind into entering near meditative states through the refinement of awareness on simplistic physiologic activity. Over time one gains more control over these subtle processes and normal “limits” can be transcended. These “powers” are described at length in yogic texts, and many are debatable at best. However, there is documented evidence of yoga masters of the 20th century performing feats such as stopping their own hearts for minutes at a time. As the practice gets more intense, the body learns how to maintain a sense of homeostasis even in the most compromising of situations.

Like I said, assuming one doesn’t have any glaring heart problems and does this practice on dry land, pranayama is very safe. Of course, as soon as breath retention is taken to the water, it becomes the most dangerous sport on the planet. Freediving, simply put, is awesome. Did you know that the current static apnea (breath hold lying still in water without supplemental oxygen) record is over 11 minutes? Anyone doubting the pure unadulterated bad-ass nature of this sport, should take the opportunity to rent The Big Blue. Aside from being an interesting look into the world of free diving, obsession, and love, it may be one of the greatest films ever made. In fact, I still have a borrowed copy in stock. Champagne, pasta and a movie anyone?

Below:
-The Big Blue Trailer
-William Trubridge shows whats possible with nothing more than a single breath

Try Something New - Finish What You've Started

2009-12-29T10:07:00.000-08:00

As interested as I am in human potential, especially in the realm of all things physical, I’ve never been impressed by the practice of setting new year’s resolutions. First off, like most holidays, its continued practice is almost entirely due to its ability to perpetuate consumerism. Secondly, and more depressing, is the way that New Years has become a sign post of sorts for people to make commitments to change which they intend, almost from the get go, on breaking. How many times have I heard “I’m gonna go get another gym membership. I’ll probably only last one month.” It seems that something is flawed in this practice and I’d like to suggest a slightly different approach.

I’ve never understood why our calendar year starts just after the beginning of winter (in the northern hemisphere that is), a season which marks the end of most life cycles. Bears retreat into hibernation, surviving on fat reserves they’ve spent the rest of the year developing. After gifting us their sweet fruit, trees drop leaves and hold tight to the ground while the daylight quickly disappears into darkness. Winter is a time of survival. Life hunkers down, relying on its deepest reserves of vitality, and simply waits it out.

So how can we adapt the idea of new year’s resolutions to better fit into the cycles of the planet? Given that January 1st happens to be during time of year where survival is most difficult might we consider turning our focus to the preservation of this past years projects? Its not as if last year was a total waste right? Don’t get me wrong here. It was a shit storm by all accounts, especially for me and my loved ones, but over the course of 365 days all of us created success in our own way. It seems silly to turn quality attention away from these things and put all that we have into something new. Its cold and wet and the holidays have sapped our emotional energy. Credit cards are maxed and the swine flu is out to get everyone. While the waves are big, the water is frigid and, worst of all, taxes are coming. Hold on tight to that which you’ve already committed to. On New Years forget about starting, but rather remind yourself of all the things you’d like to finish. Look in the mirror and instead of seeing the ways that you’ve failed, acknowledge the dreams, projects and accomplishments of this last year and vow to not drop the ball. Its the end of the race. Don’t give up now.

I’ve got two major projects on my plate, both catalyzed by my little tumble over the summer. Long time readers of this blog know that I injured my shoulder just before flying off to Europe in the summer of 2008. Well, that injury never got better. In fact, its felt like a lead weight for a long time now. The SLAP lesion will require surgery and an extended recovery period (I’m told up to 3 months in a sling - then rehab), something that would normally scare the shit out of me. Like most athletes I fear life on the couch. The thought of not being able to get out there, train, compete, fail and then eventually succeed is terrifying. While those numbers seemed daunting a year ago, these days, 3 months sounds like a long weekend. Shit, I’ve been on crutches for more than 4 months and I’ve got at least a few more to go. If I ever walk again, shoulder surgery is gonna be a piece of cake. So the goal on this front is two fold. Find the will to get through this whole leg issue, and then when I get the green light, commit to yet another “vacation” and repair the shoulder.

The second project is the more interesting one. Life on the couch is one of movies, books, and whole lot of contemplation. Since my return from Europe, I’ve known, in some walk-in closet of my mind, that a big change is necessary in my professional life. Cooking for the rich and famous has been great, but simply put, Micah needs to step it up a bit. However, the same road block is there every time I seek out other options. I need more skills, knowledge and experience. So a few months ago I started looking into graduate programs. There were some missteps initially, but in move that is very out of character, I’ve decided to apply to a number of MBA programs. (Cut in audio clip of a record stopping here). I figure the best way to improve any system is to strengthen the weakest link. The skills I serve to learn in an MBA program seem the best suited for this sort of action in my life. Applications are due around Feb 1 and I’ve got tons of work to do. So, the goal here is to finish this process off by submitting superb applications and finding my way into a quality program this fall.

If all goes well I’ll be pretty psyched come 2011. My body will finally be healthy enough to support my thirst for adventure and I’ll have plenty to keep my mind busy with as I wrap up the first semester of school. Sounds nice. I think I’ll get out there and make it happen.

Bosco says "Be like me. Work hard and finish what you've started. Its been the key to my success."

Train much?

2009-12-01T11:45:00.000-08:00

Training is so fucking awesome. For those that find me a bit long winded, honestly, just stop here. That’s really all I have to say.

Last week I watched an HBO Real Sports segment about Ashrita Furman, the man who holds the world record for, yep, the most world records. At the time the show was recorded he had almost 100 world records under his belt! Unbelievable. I knew there had to be a catch, and there was,... sort of.

Ashrita records include things like “longest walk with a quart of milk balanced on the head”, “longest distance traveled somersaulting”, “most apples sliced in half by a samurai sword in one minute”, “fastest mile while carrying another person”, and lets not forget “longest continuos juggle while pogo-sticking”. The rad part is, he does all these ridiculous things REALLY well. For example, that walk with a quart of milk on his head was 80 miles. The somersaulting went on for 12. This guy is totally nuts right? Yeah, of course he is, but he’s also totally stoked.

Turns out Ashrita is really into transcendental meditation. In high school he met a fairly prominent teacher who introduced him to the practice and he quickly took to it and devoted himself in more ways than one. From his site.

My teacher's philosophy of self-transcendence, of overcoming your limits and making daily progress spiritually, creatively and physically using the power of meditation, really thrilled me. However, I was a bit unsure about the physical part in my case due to my lifelong commitment to nerdiness!

That all changed literally overnight several years later in 1978, when my teacher encouraged me to participate in a 24-hour bicycle race sponsored by Pepsi Cola in New York City. Sri Chinmoy knew what he was doing. I had an epiphany that night on my bicycle while riding around the course in Central Park. I realized firsthand that if you can connect with your inner source and be receptive to a higher Grace, you can accomplish anything.

Ashrita spends his days running a vitamin shop in New York and all of his free time training for ridiculous records and he loves it and honestly, I love this guy. He’s commited to challenging himself in whatever ways he can, and is so fucking unabashedly “himself” during all of it. He likes hula hooping. So he hula hoops. Or maybe he’s feeling the somersault thing, so he gets into that for a while.

I’m convinced. Challenge is one of the keys to happiness. Talk to anyone who’s attempted a birthday challenge and I think they’ll agree. Of course these things doesn’t have to be physical. Take the example of the business tycoon who keeps coming out of retirement. He can have/do whatever he wants, but nothing gets him off like work used to. This guy gets so bored and depressed without the constant struggle to make a shitload of money, that he goes back to work! My 15 year old dog is his happiest just before dinner every night. He stands up, smiles, barks, jumps, trots and sticks his ass in the air and stutter steps like he’s ready to play. He’s psyched! This old beat up dog is so driven by that goal that he’ll do anything to get fed, and during the process he’s very, very much alive.

Which leads me back to training. Elijah and I are both laid up for a while. Well, actually he’s an asshole and gets to start walking soon, but whatever the case its been almost 4 months for me and 2 months for him since we last “went for a jog”. Of course we both have responsibilities. He’s got a job and I’ve got... uh... stuff that I do, but I know for a fact that both of us are the most psyched when we’re at The Shed (top secrect training facility powered by soul - the Marvin Gay and Barry White type, but there’s been allot of Cameo playing lately... and Wutang when Elija’s in charge) training.

We’ve lucked out you see. If climbing hard is one’s thing (and that’s our thing), loosing the ability to walk for a period of time is sort of useful. Fingerboard workouts and campusing are the preferred methods for developing power and neither of these tools require or encourage the use of feet. We’d be more hard pressed with broken fingers.

Phil cranks out one of my current projects almost 2 decades ago at the old video shop

So during this time of restricted mobility I’ve spent more time hanging from the Yaniro powerboard than I once thought was humanly possible. Last week I logged nearly 6 hours on this most beautiful of finger boards. Elijah is currently completing almost 500 campus moves a week! Towards the end of a 200 move day he looks over at me and says,

“Dude, if I’m not cranking by the time I can walk again, I might quit climbing.”

I know the feeling. Yes, all this insanity IS in the name of climbing which we all agree is a worthwhile activity. I’ll be pretty surprised if we don’t come out of this climbing hard, because from what I can see we’re both as strong, or stronger, than ever. The odd part is, aside from those last few moves of a murderous workout, we’re totally stoked on our short term training goals that revolve around the “toys” we play with at The Shed. These are things that many people would lump into the Ashrita Furman category, and I totally agree. Attempting to hang my body weight from some small man made hold is a pretty weird goal to have. However, I can only speak for myself, but I have a feeling Elija (and Phil) would agree, when I say that my campus board project is just as good as any “real” climbing project.

Like I said - training is fucking awesome.

Next Question

2009-11-18T18:32:00.000-08:00

3 months, 92 days, 1/4 year, almost 1% of my time spent on the planet thus far.... What ever way you slice it, I think its safe to say that its been more than short while since I walked on my own two feet. That fateful day when I managed to slip at the wrong time and land in the wrong place drastically changed the direction, or lack there of (your choice), my life was heading. I’ve already responded to one of the most popular questions posed to me by friends and strangers, but there’s another more annoying, sometimes almost arrogant, question that I suddenly feel compelled to respond to.

“So, what have you learned from all this?”

I may have a bit of a “granola” bend to my personality, but shit like this is what makes me wish I could completely disassociate myself from any past that involved yoga, vegetarianism, pot smoking, or hot tubs. I don’t believe that everything happens for a reason, that the all-mighty “.....” (fill in the blank with your favorite name) presents us with challenges to make us stronger, or that this was inevitable due to some arrangement of stars on the night I was born. That’s all a bunch of nonsense. However, I do believe that we can create a reason for anything that happens as a way to help ourselves get stronger, or that there are natural forces (like gravity) and the dark tangled mess of our deeper psyche that can both catch up to us at the same time and the same place, and that there may be more affecting our development than simply our genetics and our experiences. See the difference? You can’t just throw out modern science because you had a really cool acid trip or a chakra light up in yoga class. I’ve had that acid trip, and trust me, I’ve seen it all in yoga class! It’s rad, but we can’t just perma-bliss and forget about the basics, or we’ll all end up like “that guy” at the farmer’s market.

But I digress. What kills me about this question is that half the time I’m asked, the inquirer asks it from some place of spiritual elitism, which is, by the way, my favorite part of the trendy yoga studio crowd (Note: I’m perfectly willing to admit that I’m quite possibly projecting my own spiritual elitism onto them, and that my own less than perfect experience with the “healing arts” has marred me somewhere deep in my unconscious thus making this entire rant an immature and ego inflating sack of shit). What they really mean is “You silly little man with petty pursuits unlike my lofty ones drenched in upper tier morality you couldn’t possibly understand: What have you got to say for yourself now?” Well, to all those people I’d like to respond with a simple: How about you go fuck yourself with a healing crystal.

For those that truly are interested in the past 3 months of my life, the ones that ask this of me because of our shared past, mutual interest in the unknown or simply because they didn’t know what else to say, I do have an answer that doesn’t involve any orifice of your body or a healing crystal. By the way, sorry you had to read all that other stuff above. I really do appreciate your concern and respect your intellect. I’m just sort of lose cannon these days and it isn’t fair for me to let a few idiots tarnish our relationship. I hope you understand.

A quick list of what I’ve learned in no particular order:

Boredom is a very dangerous thing. Stay busy
I can always love more than I do
There’s this really cool coffee shop in Mammoth sort of close to the hospital. I can’t remember the name, but....
Caffeine is necessary
Pot doesn’t increase creativity, it dulls the shit out of it.
The body is way more fragile that I once thought. We break, and sometimes it doesn’t get better on its own - especially cartilage. Avoid tearing cartilage. I’m still undecided about bones. I’ll have to get back to you about that
While 11 pads stacked at the base of a 12 ft problem is excessive, one miniature pad beneath a 20 footer isn’t enough.
Ski towns always have good orthopods in stock.
I like walking... allot.
Tragedy’s don’t cure “asshole-ism”
My dog is more intuitive than most people
I do have a sweet tooth after all.
Reading is, and will always be, a worthwhile activity.
A change of scenery is often the perfect solution
While generally not a fan of opiates, when pain is off the charts, I highly recommend Diladid (sp?). This shit works.
I need a job.
I really need a job.
Very cliché, but I truly know even less than I thought I did.

Service with a Smile

2009-11-10T14:50:00.000-08:00

Its getting a little trendy to blog about the healthcare system, but I’m gonna go ahead and add my two sense on the subject. Actually, my current gripe has nothing to do with insurance companies or socialized healthcare. I’ve got a bone to pick with the medical field, mainly doctors to be honest.

I get the impression that some of these guys (and gals) have no interest in people whatsoever. This seems a little ridiculous don’t you think? I mean, this is a profession where one’s basic job function is to help out their fellow human being. I know there’s glamour and a high pay check that comes along with the cool, oddly stylish, white coat, but it blows my mind that so many seemingly antisocial heartless bastards devote their lives to a job like this. Maybe its a similar to the phenomena in politics. Only the most egotistical of people have any interest in controlling the rights/destiny of the masses (yes, I’ll agree that there are many politicians that honestly are the altruistic seekers of “the right” that they present themselves as).

Take for example my experience yesterday morning with an orthopedic surgeon in the Santa Barbara area, whose name I won’t slander, but will say rhymes with “I’m-the-man”. After waiting for almost an hour - which I’ve come to accept as part of the routine with doctors, because I do honestly understand how busy they are - the Doc arrives with fresh x-rays in hand.

“All right. Get that boot off!” He barks with his back turned to me.

“Lets here some good news!” I say with a smile, trying to keep things light and friendly.

“Hmm... Yeah.... Not very good.”

“No change huh?”

“Yeah. I don’t like this.” He approaches and almost jumps out of his coat upon noticing the irritation from a mild fungal infection (much like athlete’s foot) thats developed around the wound which he created during a debreidment surgery almost 2 months ago. “You gotta clean this up. You know like...uh... take a shower.”

“I’d love to, but the wound center hasn’t given me the green light yet, so I’ve done the best I can scrubbing around the bandages with a wash cloth and applying anti fungal ointment when the dressing is changed. They aren’t very worried about it out at the center. Seems it should go away pretty quickly as soon as the wound heals and I can expose the site to air and water on a daily basis.”

“Yeah man you gotta get in the shower. Maybe try using some soap and get rid of this dirty compression sock..... When was this dressing last changed?”

“24 hours ago.”

“On a Sunday? That’s not possible The wound center’s not open a Sunday.” he counters, almost trying to catch me in a lie.

“Uh yeah I know. The home nurse that I’ve been using for more than 2 months did it like he has been every other day. Remember when you talked to him last month?”

He walks away and continues to lecture me about the basics of personal hygiene while he washes his hands and puts on a pair of gloves. He then sits down and leans his head into one hand in that distressed thinker sort of position and begins to shake his head. From this position he proceeds to explain his plan of action, which seems in line with what Dr. Karch has recommended, so I don’t ask too many questions, not that he seems interested in answering any of them unless they revolve around whether or not I should be smoking or if soap and water is an effective skin cleaning agent (side note: In my first meeting with the good doctor he spent 10 of our 15 minutes together badgering me about the small marijuana habit I admitted to previous to the injury. I also told him that since the accident I’ve abstained because I understand that smoking is not conducive to the healing process. However, he still felt it necessary to point out that he was pretty sure that I developed an infection because of the depressed state my immune system was obviously in due to my one hit a day habit.).

After a quick explanation of where my treatment is going and barking a few orders at his assistant, whom I feel very sorry for because he seems like a nice guy, the Doc comes over and starts moving my foot around.

“Ankle mobility’s good. Pull back on your foot.” So I proceed to pull back as best I can and move the foot a total of a half centimeter.

“That’s it?” He says with an obvious look of surprise on his face.

“Well, I haven’t been using it. Remember 6 weeks ago when I asked you about that and you said it was too fragile to work with? Uh... I did what you said and left it alone.”

“No, no, no. You gotta be moving that thing.” He sighs like a disappointed father.

“Ok..?”

“Yep, so uh, move that thing around and get it cleaned up and we’ll see you in four weeks.” And with that he’s gone. So I reapply the dressing that he’s removed and then hop to the opposite side of the room to retrieve my cast. Does this scenario seem a little fucked to anyone else?

The subtleties of this exchange may not come across very well for a number of reasons. First of all, I’m not the most talented writer in the world. Secondly, and I think this is the important part, “bed side manner” is in fact a subtle thing. This doctor gave me the exact same report that another, oddly compassionate doctor gave just weeks earlier, yet I came away from this appointment with a very different taste in my mouth. For all I know, Dr. “I’m-the-man” is a great father, lover and all the rest, but dude ain’t bringing that loving feeling with him to work, and I for one find this more than a little irritating. Maybe he’s had a bad day. Its totally possible that he just got out of a stressful surgery or his wife just left him. The thing is all of his patients including me have had more than a few bad days recently, and many of us (I’d like to include myself in this group) show up and are courteous human beings. We stick to the basics like looking people in the eye and respecting their individual experience. Maybe we even ask about their day or try to lighten the mood with a joke or two. Its not that difficult, yet many doctors seem to forget about these most basic human needs when they don the white coat.

As is often the case I’m quick to point out the negative, glossing over all the positive interactions I’ve had with M.D.’s. Anyone who’s been reading this blog knows well how much respect I have for Dr. Michael Karch up in Mammoth lakes. This is a guy who’s delivered straight up some of the worst news of my life, yet I walked out of the appointment oddly comforted by his words. How many doctors bring a hopeful tear to your eye while they describe how they may need to hack off your left foot? Then there’s Dr. Stephen Hosea, the infectious disease expert in Santa Barbara. He was very clear during our appointments that there wasn’t much to talk about and that he needed to see me more out of procedure than anything else, but since I’d taken the time to stop by, he spent a good half hour encouraging me and offering advice with regards to my current condition.

And today, out of nowhere, a doctor went out of his way to help me out, well, just because. In hopes that I’ll be able to make a little money while debilitated, I’m going back to substitute teaching. One of the many hoops the county requires me to jump through is a routine TB test. So I head off to the Med Center and get poked by a nurse. On my way out I ask if I should worry about the test site rubbing against my crutches. Unsure, the nurse queries the head doctor. He’s, of course, busy, but takes one look at me and says,

“Well, it shouldn’t be a problem, but you know, those crutches aren’t set up right.”

So he leads me into an exam room. While he sizes me up and and resets the simple mechanism that I’ve managed to somehow screw up, he has the courtesy to to ask about my injury and crack a few jokes. Shit, he even looked me in the eye. On his way out I asked his name to which he replies

“Bill Meller. Good luck to you. Have a nice day.”

“Thanks Bill!” And with that I left, sort of looking forward to returning a few days later.

The best part about all this is I’m paying extra to see Dr. “I’m-the-man”. He’s decided that insurance companies don’t pay him enough, so he isn’t a provider. I don’t know nearly enough about the intricacies of the insurance company/doctor relationship to fairly say this, but really, I’m not surprised. My interactions so far have shown me that he could give a shit about my situation. What does “I’m-the-man” care if I have to go into bankruptcy to see him in the future? He gets paid either way right? Taking a slight pay cut to make my and many other patients (aren’t like 50% of people one accident away from bankruptcy?) financial situation a bit simpler is a ridiculous concept. He’s a doctor. He’s the man.

No News is Good News

2009-10-27T12:40:00.000-07:00

Last Thursday me and the parental units drove up to Mammoth Lakes for a Friday morning appointment with Dr. Karch. I won’t lie. Although gorgeous even from the back seat of a moving vehicle, driving through the Eastside during the height of fall felt like a mild form of torture. Sitting around the house in Santa Barbara, its fairly easy to forget about climbing on rock. Fingerboards are almost as interesting as the mediocre stone that we’ve been blessed with on the central coast. However the mild temps, clear skies, and acres and acres of world class boulders that dominate the landscape of Bishop create another story altogether. Damn greasy foothold.... AH!! I could be climbing right now!

I’m allowed a moment or two of weakness I think. I enjoyed the agony for a short while, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Dr. Karch had positive things to say during our appointment. The new x-rays showed absolutely no change in the bones of my leg. Now, this wasn’t the best possible news. Ideally there’d be some knitting apparent at this point in the recovery. However, in this case, no news WAS good news. Turns out Karch was encouraged by the fact that the screws hadn’t moved or simply fallen out of place. Like nails coming loose from rotting wood, this would indicate bone death, something that’s undeniably bad. His feeling, and one that my logical mind has to agree with, is that if the bones aren’t dying they’re probably growing. It’s one or the other right? This lack of death combined with apparent lack of infection led my new favorite doctor to one of the better conclusions I’ve heard in a while.

“I can confidently say that I don’t expect to be cutting your foot off anymore.” Of course nothing’s for sure, but when a doctor, someone who gets paid to be conservative ad absurdum says that they don’t expect outcome ‘x’ that’s a pretty strong statement bordering very close on certainty. So as tears flowed down Mom’s face Dr. Karch explained the road ahead.

The Docs are going to want to see some bone growth soon. If in 3 weeks there’s still no apparent change, then they’ll prescribe a bone stimulator (basically a device that sends a mild electrical current through the area). This would hopefully solve the problem. If after a month of “stimulation” the bones continue to be stubborn, a bone graft from my hip is the next option. We’ll talk more about that if we go down that road.

For now I’ll continue to wait and focus on using as much of my body as I can in hopes that it will jump start the healing process. On that note, I should mention that I cannot do any physical therapy with my left leg. The bones are far too fragile for any amount of weight bearing at any angle. Instead, Dr. Karch suggested that I continue to strengthen my right leg. His reasoning is two fold. First of all, there’s no reason to let it’s fitness go to shit. After all its much easier to maintain than to rehabilitate. Secondly - this is the rad part - working one limb of the body seems to increase nerve activity in the opposite limb. Dr. Karch’s suggestion: Try riding a bike with one leg. Now he was clear that this wasn’t his professional prescription (that’s not very conservative now is it?), but rather something he might have personally tried while recovering from a skiing accident where he ripped his quadricep completely off the knee. “Its way harder than you think!” he says. He also encouraged me to keep working my upper body as much as possible (within reason of course - very important to be conservative). Ok Doc. Upper body training it is. No problem. Over and out.

Another Man Down

2009-10-18T16:40:00.000-07:00

We’ve entered yet another stage in the on going healing process - the waiting game. With no sign of infection in my blood and the debridement wound healing nicely I’ve been taken off of antibiotics, lost my little pal the Wound-VAC and graduated from hyperbaric oxygen therapy. So currently, and for first time in a while, there are no tubes hanging from my body and I’m allowed to wear whatever I want. If infection steers clear and bones start to knit the possibility of a highly functional outcome becomes very very high, but it will be at least another month before anyone considers putting any money down. And although there’s a small part of me that wants to hole up in the dark, bite my nails and fear for the worst (of course normally there’d be an empty bottle of wine or two close by, but in this example we’ll forgo it for the sake of healing), life feels oddly normal.

Last day in the chamber

Last weekend Bridget and I drove up to Santa Maria (yes, I’m driving) to visit our buddy Justin Willet at his winery. Winemakers are usually pretty busy, but during harvest in the early fall things get very exciting. For the past 2 months Justin and everyone else in the winemaking world have been working overtime to get ripe grapes off the vine and begin the vinification process. Fantasies that many have about the winemakers life are a far cry from the laborious work of harvest. There’s no cheese plate or skirt clad barefoot women in sight. No, in September and October the winery is filled with allot of sweat, tired eyes, sore muscles and more than a few empty cups of coffee. We caught Justin at the tail end of the season. He was noticeably exhausted, something I’ve never witnessed from the man I consider an expert in burning the candle on both ends. On the day of our visit he had a “light” 12 hours of work to do, so there was plenty of time to show us around.

Welcome to Tyler Winery

Punch downs!

Side note: I won't be shaving until I walk again

Chardonay fermenting away

Towards the end of the day my phone rang and the caller ID lit up “Elijah”. We had exchanged texts earlier in the day. Ever the assholes, we spent the morning taunting and assaulting each other’s manhood. He was off bouldering so I assumed the current phone call was a last ditch effort to lovingly rub dirt in my face.

“What’s up dude?”

“Oh, not much.”

“So how’s climbing?”

“Yeah, about that.... I think I broke my ankle falling off the top of Gangsta Hippie.”

This is when I start laughing, not because I don’t believe him, rather the shear irony of the situation is far greater than any amount of concern I have for my friend. I could already see us hopping around town on crutches together - the perfect couple. Better still, Elijah’s sitting up there at the bottom of a boulder, his ankle mangled and his first instinct is to call me, not for help, but just to chat.

“You’re fucking kidding me? Are you at the hospital right now.”

“No. I’m sitting at the bottom of the problem. I just snapped my foot back into place. It sorta hurts. I almost puked.”

“Are you alone?”

“Uh kinda. But Kristy and some other people are around here somewhere. There supposedly gonna get me out of here, but I haven’t seen them for a while. I might just start walking to the car myself.”

“You sure you’re ok?”

“I’m fine. Ahghh” He moans and there’s a pause. “Its starting to swell allot. I just got tired of waiting around so I figured I’d call you. Oh. I think I hear them coming. I’m gonna try to get up and start moving down the hill.”

“Uh. Ok. Call me later and let me know what’s up.”

A few years back I fell off Gangsta Hippie and slammed my head spotting a landing.

I found out later that Elijah didn’t break his ankle, but rather massively ruptured the ankle ligaments, along the way tearing out some muscle and a piece of bone. We’re told this sort of injury ruins a runner’s career, something Elijah is anything but. However, the injury is a notch or two up from your standard ankle sprain and Elijah’s traded in his climbing shoes for a pair of crutches.

Reed looking stylish back in the "good old days"

Hawk looking even more stylish

Oddly, this is actually the fourth major climbing injury a member of the Castle crew has incurred this summer/fall. Reed Bartlett took a fall recently, and from the looks of things may have chipped some bone or torn ligaments. Another veteran climber with a string of bad luck. He’s got a pair of crutches too. Of course, how could we continue without mentioning the man they call “Hawk!”, who broke his arm falling from no more than a few feet off the ground while climbing on top rope at the Owl Tor. No one’s ever claimed that climbing is without risk, but this is getting a bit ridiculous.

I can't walk, but I can campus

on really small rungs no less

Progression

2009-10-07T11:01:00.000-07:00

I’d like to go on record for moment and officially answer the following question:

“Micah, after everything that’s happened do you think you’ll ever go climbing again?”

I ask you all this, “Does one never eat again after contracting ameobic dysentery? Does one never date again after a relationship gone awry? Do we walk outside and pray that a meteor won’t slam into our face? Does the sun rise in the east and set in the west?”

I don’t imagine it comes as a big surprise to anyone who reads this blog, but I still feel compelled to say (please excuse the necessary expletives), “Fuck yeah, I plan on climbing again!” Granted, I don’t imagine highball bouldering is gonna be the first thing on the agenda, but as soon as the docs give the green light, or more realistically, sometime before, I’ll be tying in and and pulling down.

In fact ever since I left the hospital in Mammoth I’ve been training. That first workout in the desert, the one full bar dip performed on a walker, catalyzed subsequent sessions. First in my parents home, on the pull up bar thats been there since I started climbing in high school and now back at the shed, training has been on the agenda.

Obviously options are fairly limited. I spend most of my time on the hang board and campus rungs. While fairly monotonous, I’m excited about the possibility of gaining some upper body and finger power, something I’ve lost quite a bit of over the past year. After 6 months of this I’ll either be cranking one arms with a beer in the other hand or making an appointment with an orthopod to have both shoulders repaired (for those that don’t know, my shoulders have been anything but healthy for a while now).

Motivation wanes from time to time, but luckily there’s resources available to those of us in need. Big Ups new video Progression is high on the rad scale. Then again, my opinion is a little twisted. Watching a climbing video right now is not much different than showing a prisoner pornography. Whatever the case check out the trailer.

Sunday Funday

2009-09-25T10:12:00.000-07:00

Sunday is special - not because of football or church, or drink specials at some stupid club. Garage sales and open houses don’t deserve any special recognition , although the latter is sort of involved I guess. After a long week of appointments, oxygen dives and couch conquering, Sunday is a breath of fresh air. A day for adventures.

This all started because my families home, my post leg explosion residence, is on the market, and every Sunday there’s an open house (you see the involvment now). I experimented with hanging out during the 3 hours of social madness. It could work out nicely right? Lounging, soaking up a little social contact, and maybe even inspiring enough sympathy to throw some prospective buyer over the edge clenching a sell for my folks. However, after a few open houses it became clear that I was anything but useful. Actually my horror story is more of a distraction, and to be honest I’d rather not talk to most of these people. So Bridget came up with an idea. On Sundays we’d venture into the great wide world of Santa Barbara and do “normal” things - the kind of things that your average lazy (or is it busy?) American would consider an adventure.

3920 Pueblo Ave Santa Barbara CA

My dilapidated state adds just enough spice to these otherwise mundane outings. The Coral Casino, Breakwater and the SB Zoo, are all somewhat exciting when tackled by walker or wheelchair. The change of scenery is wonderful, the shredding index is high, and one of us usually gets a decent workout. When the walker’s in play, I quickly work up a sweat and when pushing a full grown man in a wheelchair even Bridget’s Bolivia toned legs start to burn. Last Sunday was especially interesting.

The plan was to grab the dogs and head out to Lake Los Carneros in Goleta. Neither of us had been there in years, but seemed to remember a nice paved path and an easily accessible lake. It would be perfect. Bridget could push the wheelchair and the dogs would have plenty to keep them busy. It’d be fun.

I should mention - our wheelchair isn’t the nicest one on the market. In fact this piece of shit is more like a Tyco My First Wheelchair thats sold at Toys R Us or something. The whole thing’s made of plastic and the wheels are about the size of bicycle training wheels. So not only does it require a driver, but because of those ingeniously designed wheels, every crack, bump and pebble can potentially flip the passenger right out of the chair. But that wouldn’t matter today. This was a well paved path. There was no concern about the Tyco chair. Piece of cake.

Things started off well enough. Bridget managed to find the parking lot and even though the “Dogs must be kept on leash” signs were fairly obvious, the small number of cars in the lot signaled we’d probably be able to get away with letting the them run free. Like I was gonna try and walk Bosco while sitting in a wheel chair with a broken leg. It would be safer to strap me into an F14 after a few cocktails.

Anyways, we started off down the well paved path, throwing balls and frisbees for the canines and enjoying the sun on our faces. About halfway around the lake it became clear that the only way down to the water was via some dirt paths. No doubt the dogs wanted at the lake, and both of us were committed to getting them there. The paths did look questionable, but Bridget was sure she could navigate her way down without dumping her precious cargo, that being me.

After numerous “close calls” the journey ended about 50 meters from waters edge. Loose sand swallowed the training wheels preventing any forward movement for chair and passenger. No big deal. Bridget and the dogs continued on while I maintained base camp. Needless to say, Bella and Bosco had a blast chasing frisbees, balls and ducks. Bosco was especially tenacious covering himself in a thick layer of swamp sludge. Of course Bella, always the lady, kept things tidy by only dipping her feet in.

Retreat from the lake proved more difficult than expected. The chair was dug in deep and simple push wasn’t going to be enough. While I attempted to take weight off my hopping on one foot, Bridget yanked on the thing from the front. Each cycle of this created a few inches of forward movement, but the chair refused to generate any amount of momentum. Eventually, after dozens of hops and yanks we hit hard ground and Bridget returned to the driver’s seat, pushing chair and Micah up the the fairly steep hill back to flat ground.

After completing this trip to the lake we were all ready for the car. However, instead of backtracking down paved path we’d already traveled, a decision was made to continue the loop even though the section just ahead of us was clearly unpaved. It’s probably just this little bit right? They paved the whole other side. Why wouldn’t they pave the rest of it? Seemed logical enough at the time. Well, turns out this wasn’t the case. Further down the trail conditions worsened. Groomed dirt quickly turned to mountainous dirt. We were optimistic, but the path was obviously out to get us.

Lady luck did grant us one gift though - a bobcat sighting. Yeah. We’re wheeling down the dirt path and a full grown bobcat comes trotting out the bushes. Super cool. Bosco had no idea how to react. He sort of looked at us and then frantically paced back and forth. The bobcat just moseyed on its way.

Shortly after our feline sighting the path unleashed its full fury. The steep almost mountainous section in front of us was impassable by chair. Our only option was a three point crab walk, so I dismounted and began an awkward scramble down the dusty hill to the wooden bridge at its base. The bridge crossing, while simple, led to yet another complicated hill. Luckily Bridget looked around and realized that were very close to the car. Her plan was to get back to the vehicle, stow the dogs and return with the walker which would hopefully facilitate an escape.

Upon her return, I began working up the last “pitch” or the day. Hoping with a walker on uneven ground is precarious to say the least. Almost every placement lacks all four points of contact, so each step is a bit of a gamble. It creaked and moaned as my bodies weight layed into it at odd angles, the hard plastic warping a little more with each hop. I was making good time, and it still must have taken close to forever to get my ass up that damn hill, but eventually I made it.

So everyone survived what had become a full value adventure. Bridget helped me into the car. I couldn’t wait to get some lunch. A nice sandwich and huge glass of cold water sounded good. What would I get... turkey and swiss... curried chicken salad.... maybe some sort of melt.....? The options danced through my head as I relaxed back into the seat propping my good foot up on the dash and.... Oh shit. The foot slid right off leaving a fresh smearing of, yes, dog shit. Somehow during the final climb I’d managed to hit a land mine and neither of us had noticed. The next 20 minutes were spent cleaning A.C vents and birkenstocks,. A perfect ending to an afternoon gone a rye at no extra charge.

Recipe RX

2009-09-22T20:15:00.001-07:00

My chef buddy just launched what looks to be a very useful site. Recipe RX is a database of recipes that creates menus based on the users health needs and tastes. I just signed up and gave it a whirl and was very pleased with the large list of interesting recipes provided tailor fit just the way I like it.

It only takes a few minutes to set things up nicely. Give it a try!

reciperx.com

Operation Ellameleg

2009-09-20T20:27:00.000-07:00

Armed and ready for battle

In one of the many emails I’ve received since the accident, my good friend Alison, writes “When you do it, you do it well Elconin”. Allot of people take falls and break their legs right? I somehow manage to not only shatter both the tibia and fibia, but compound them creating a 5 inch wound. Adding insult to injury, I also tear open more than one blood vessel, completely shred a large strand of nerves and roll around in the dirt moaning and bleeding out.

So what might normally be a “simple” recovery has turned into a multifaceted full fledged war over the rights of one lower left leg. Lucky for me 21st century medicine has stood up and offered its full support to this campaign.

Easy Access

The PICC line installed in my right arm is more or less an easy access input/output jack to a main vein. So now blood draws and the administering of meds are not only pain free, but can be done on the couch at my house without the assistance of a nurse.

And everyone's all excited about their new Iphone....

Then there’s the wound-vac. Not more than a few years old these machines create negative pressure at the site of a wound, thus speeding drainage and increasing blood flow - two things that dramatically speed recovery. It’s my understanding that wounds heal up to 3x faster with one of these puppies strapped onto them, and better yet the system is a sterile environment, so the risk of further infection is very very low.

The newest addition to this quiver, namely a hyperbaric oxygen chamber, may be the most interesting and effective tool in the arsenal. Here’s the idea - by putting the body in a pressurized environment of pure oxygen surplus gas is pushed into the system. In and of itself, oxygen is extremely useful because it invigorates white blood cells while also being toxic to many bacteria. So that’s one point for our team and one less for there’s. The addition of pressure (2 atmospheres in my case) forces blood, and thus the gas, into areas where blood flow is normally somewhat restricted like the bones of the lower legs. So this therapy not only helps fight infection, but should help get the requisite blood to my tibia and fibia enabling the healing process to begin.

If you wanna take a dive in the O2, you best be wearing the right threads

So 5 days a week I make a trip out to the Wound Care Center in Goleta Valley Cottage Hospital for a 2 hour “dive” as they like to call it. Pressurized oxygen is a bit of a fire hazard (especially for the guy bathing in it) so the center is very particular about what they allow in the chamber. Basically other than the water bottle, piss bottle, pillows and sheets that they provide, nothing else is allowed in there except my body. I’m not even allowed to wear my own clothes. Everyday I arrive in a new set of scrubs whereupon a nurse checks to make sure I’m not wearing underwear.

After taking vitals and removing the brace they slide me into a glass tube, close it up tight and start pumping the chamber full of oxygen. As pressure builds I’ve got to clear my ears in just the same fashion as diving until we settle in at depth. And then, I just hang out and breathe. This would be a fairly relaxing experience except for the fact that oxygen is toxic at high levels - like the ones created in a tube filled with the pressurized gas. Turns out about 1 in 10,000 dives result in a seizure. With those odds, I’d be an idiot to bet on it, but its hard not to wonder if or when I might “get lucky” and find myself convulsing in a sealed off tube, pissing myself and possibly re-breaking my leg (remember I’m not wearing a brace while I’m in there). The one saving grace is that the hospital does have a television and dvd player with sound pumped into the chamber so there’s at least some distraction from the mind games. Even still, these 2 hour dives feel more like a never ending plane flight than a relaxing nap on the beach.

And it all seems to be working. The last blood draw indicates that there is little to no infection left in my system. Granted, the real test will come when the antibiotics are finished. The decisive moments come then when my body has to fair this on its own. Will an infection resurface (meaning that its too deep in the bones to fight or its on the metal)? But yes, for now things look good. We’re winning this battle, but there’s a far bigger war brewing.

What Lies Ahead

2009-09-12T14:45:00.001-07:00

I just got back from doctors appointment in Mammoth. Yeah, the whole gang drove up there on Thursday for a Friday morning appointment with Doctor Michael Karch. And yes, we subsequently drove back to SB on Friday. Not really the most fun I’ve ever had on the Eastside, but oddly, Bridget, Mom, Dad and I had a pretty good time on our quicky of a road trip.

I don’t drive hundreds of miles through the dessert for just any doctors appointment. It takes a special doctor to motivate this sort of commute. I already knew that Dr. Karch was good at what he does. Afterall he did take a mangled leg, one that even he thought may need an immediate amputation, and put it back together so well that he sees a very full recovery in my future. But there’s more....

Scanning the waiting room prior to the appointment, one couldn’t help but notice the myriad of signed photos hanging from walls depicting skiers, snowboarders, kayakers, surfers and base jumpers. Alongside all of this there’s also a tattered racing number with a small certificate signifying that Michael Karch was a finisher of the Badwater Ultra Marathon. For those of you that don’t know already, Badwater may be the most grueling foot race on the planet. Starting at the low point of Death Valley runners travel 135 miles to the Mount Whitney Portal, along the way gaining around 8500 ft of altitude. I’m starting to think that Dr. Karch might understand the mind and body of an athlete. So I did a little research and found this article. For those of you too lazy to read the whole thing, skip ahead and read the last 2 paragraphs...... To paraphrase - Michael Karch isn’t fucking around.

Dr. Karch was pretty happy with how the leg looked. The wound from the most recent surgery is already healing up well. The wound-vac is a fascinating piece of machinery. By creating negative pressure in the area (like a continuos hickey inside a big hole in my leg) it fights off infection and promotes blood flow to area. The wound literally heals from the inside out in a clean protected environment. Once the internal tissue proves to be thriving and on its way to a nice recovery, I’ll be seeing the plastic surgeon. Another quick surgery will take a skin graft and cover the wound, essentially closing it off from any outside contaminants.

We then turned to the future. This is a waiting game by any standard. There’s two large hurdles standing between me and a jog in the park.

First off, the bones need to actually grow back together. Not only did I break the tibia and fibia into over 10 pieces, but trauma also sheared the outer sheath off of the bones. This outer sheath (sorry can’t remember the name) is responsible for most of bones blood supply. The bone marrow is the other place where bone gets nutrients. So for now its hard to know how, or if, the bones will be able to mend themselves. Even in a perfect situation one can’t see any regrowth for at least 6 weeks after a break, and given the severity of this situation an additional 6 weeks wouldn’t be much of a surprise. So I’ve got another 2 months of “wait and see” on this front. If the bones are unable to grow, Karch will go in there and drill out the middle of each bone to place rods down the middle. This not only creates additional support, but the drilling action pushes marrow to the surface reinvigorating it which will hopefully stimulate healing. I’d still have a “full” recovery with this method. We didn’t talk about if that doesn’t work, but I think it might be sort of a dead end at that point, meaning we ditch my lower leg and I start shopping for prosthetics.

The second hurdle is infection. Remember, I compounded both bones out the side of the leg. The break actually created a 5 inch incision. Karch joked that I did most of the work for him. Of course I didn’t just rip myself open, I did so out in the woods in the dirt, so a whole lot of crap got into the leg from the get go. Karch gave me 40-70% chance of infection when I left Mammoth, and as “expected” I developed one pretty quickly. From the look of things, the infection was only in the soft tissue, but metal is a magnet for bacteria and I’ve got 17 screws and a plate in there. The 6 weeks of high powered i.v. antibiotics should be enough to kill off any and everything that blood is getting to, but herein lies the problem. There’s no blood supply to the screws and plates now in my leg. If any bacteria found its way to the hardware, my bones are sitting ducks for infection. The fact that the antibiotic treatment is working (signs of infection are slowly receding) is good. This seems to mean that either my bones have some blood supply which is allowing the antibiotics into the area, or even if they don’t, there isn’t any bacteria in there. Whatever the case, the real test comes later - in 4 weeks when I stop taking antibiotics. Once again we wait and see. If I develop an infection at this point, this is a signal that there’s infection deep within the bones or on the hardware. Not good. There’s a few pretty intense options at this point - multiple surgeries to remove and replace hardware and things of this nature. None of these lead to wonderful places. Again the end of this road could be amputation.

Now, all of these bad endings are truly a long ways off and by no means the foreseen outcome. We simply went down each road so that everyone in attendance could get a better idea of what’s actually going on inside my leg and what all these doctors are working with. Karch said one thing towards the end of this sobering conversation that I found very thought provoking.

“I’ve found that almost across the board, when it comes time to amputate a limb, the patient is actually relieved by the prognosis.”

The point here is that IF I go down that road, the path itself will be so long and frustrating (we’re talking a dozen surgeries and possibly years of drama) that the loss of the leg will be welcomed. Think of it this way. I’d come out of that surgery walking, probably running. THAT sounds like fun.

I won’t lie. I left the appointment pretty upset and more than a little scared, but lying here just 24 hours later, I appreciate the knowledge I now have. Its good to know what might be out there. Optimism is more powerful when its educated. Like the climbing I’ve enjoyed over the past decade, I know the risks I’m accepting. However, a faith in the equipment, and more importantly my own strength, grace and fortitude guides me in a positive direction - a direction that almost always keep me out of harms way. This process is not unlike climbing a mountain and I have every intention of continuing to put one foot in front of the other. Every week that passes is mileage ticked and the ever inspiring views bring with them additional motivation to somehow - no matter what - make it to the top.

Gratitude

2009-09-09T19:49:00.000-07:00

Progress has been slow on the writing front. Energy levels have been very low. Two additional hospitalizations, emergency surgery to remove a collection of questionable tissue, and daily high powered I.V. antibiotics haven’t helped things out much either. I should say they’ve all been necessary and very good for long term recovery. Its just that I’ve been overwhelmed and oddly busy for a guy who’s job is to sit on his ass save a few meals and trips to the bathroom. I was relieved to learn that I’ve been moderately anemic since the accident. At least that partly explains why even the shortest of walks feel like a monumental effort. With some blood building supplements in hand, I’m looking forward to more physical energy and an improved emotional state. So, there still is a chance that I’ll finish an account of my fall off The Thimble of the High Sierra and the events surrounding it. Also, with any luck, I'll get ahold of more photos from the past few weeks and start snapping more of my own. I know how boring all these words can get.....

This is by far the worst injury I’ve ever incurred. From the moment I hit the ground and felt the first surge of pain, there’s been more than a few people who’s love and efforts have not only brightened my day, but literally saved my life and limb. I can’t help myself. They need to be mentioned, if even on this blog.

Bob Banks saved my life on August 18th. Had he not been at the Dreamers with me that day, I would have bled to death underneath the boulder I fell from. Without his ability to focus and ward off the panic I know he felt in those initial moments I wouldn’t have gotten to professional care nearly as quickly, something that also would have led to undesirable results. You need to understand that this guy dragged my crying, panicked bloody body through the dirt and somehow got me in his car and to a hospital very very quickly. He didn’t rely on anyone other than himself. No 911 calls. He just reacted and got things done, something I will never let him live down. You’re a hero Bob. Plain and simple.

Dr. Michael Karch took one look at my mangled leg and decided he was going to fix me up right and that’s exactly what he did. As another doctor put it, this was anything but ankle break 101. With very little planning, he somehow managed to to take 11 or more bone fragments and screw them back together along with all the other muscle and connective tissue. Over the course of a 4+ hour surgery Dr. Karch took a leg that some would have simply cut off and put it back in the ball game, giving me every benefit of the doubt. He could have told me that I’d never walk again, but instead he believes that I’ll be climbing next year, and I believe him.

I’m blessed to have two loving parents. Even with a massive work load and financial madness swirling in their future, they’ve taken me like only they could. Feeding me, cleaning me, encouraging me.... I knew I was loved, but wow! Dad’s spent hours on the phone fighting insurance battles while Mom’s prepared nourishing food night after night. I’m 28. They didn’t sign up for this shit. What they and I often forget is that there’s plenty of parents out there that wouldn’t stop everything for their crazy son who finally managed to mangle himself climbing rocks. I have and continue to be blessed by their never ending support.

My little brother Jesse also lives at home and even with a 30 hour work week and a full time college schedule he’s acted as my on call nurse on more than one occasion - late night medicine deliveries, numerous errands during the day, glass after glass of water. There isn’t a moment he hasn’t been ready to do whatever I need and he does so calmly and without hesitation. The kid would perform surgery if I asked him to I think. He’s also granted access to my old pull up bar (which is now his pull up bar because he took over my room when I moved out). So he quietly steps around the mess while I’m resting in between the embarrassingly meager sets. Thanks dude. Hanging out with you on a daily basis has been one of the best parts of this mess.

And then there’s Bridget..... Along with my parents and younger brother she’s assumed a caretaker role, spending nearly every waking moment tending to her 170 lb infant of a boyfriend in any number of ways. However, she’s also taken the brunt of the emotional baggage that comes along with this sort of injury. This has been anything but easy, and she’s been there during the darkest moments allowing me to dump a whole lot of tears, negativity and worry in her direction. Simply put, she’s been my crying post, a job no one enjoys. What was once a fun active exciting relationship has changed dramatically and she’s stuck around and tried to make the best of it. I’ll owe her more than a few dinners after this is all said and done. I love you sweetheart.

And the list goes on. My ever encouraging and devoted close circle of friends are irreplaceable. Their advice, open ears and humor help keep me pointed in the right direction, something that is very hard to do at times. Out of town visitors, thoughtful gifts, numerous phone calls - every effort, no matter how small feels so large on my end. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I promise I’ll keep doing my best to get through this. Sometime in the future I’ll be healthy and we’ll all celebrate things properly.

At what cost?

2009-09-01T11:07:00.000-07:00

As if I don’t feel bad enough with an infected shattered leg attached to my body, there’s another kink in the line that’s driving me nuts.

Properly treating this injury creates so much goddamn trash that I’m starting to wonder if my leg is worth the debt I’m developing with mother earth. Literally, we fill an entire mid size trash bag with dirty gauze, wraps, gloves, plastic wrappers, tubes, bags, wipes, bottles, and needle free syringes. It’s disgusting. Almost as disgusting as the fowl smell that’s developing in the sweaty ass removable cast that I wear all day long. We’ve sprayed it down a couple of times, but the power of Micah stench is slowly winning the war.

But I digress. I understand the need for sanitation in matters such as health and medical treatment, but there’s got to be a better way. I know that one time use items make for almost 100% certainty in terms of cleanliness, but one has to believe that certain items might be created in some reusable fashion where their sanitized and properly stored for later use. Maybe this drops the certainty level by a percentage point, but that almost seems worth it.

I get to thinking. I make one bag of trash a day. How much shit does one hospital throw in a landfill everyday? How the hell do they off load all of it? It’s sort of mind boggling in that very depressing sort of way.

Whoops!

2009-08-29T10:46:00.000-07:00

It’s been a while since I’ve posted and I’m pretty sure everyone’s already heard why, but just in case you’ve been left out of the loop, I had a little accident. Well, maybe that’s a bit understated.

The quick version of all this is I took a bad fall bouldering 11 days ago and have been in and out of hospitals ever since. Had I been bouldering alone (something I do ALL the time), you’d have seen my name in the obituaries last week.

I owe my life and limbs to a number of people. Bob Banks is one of these people and he’s written an account of the recent events weaving together an epic experience with classic wit and soul. READ THIS! It’ll be the best 10 minutes of your day. I promise.

Micah and Bob go Bouldering, by Bob Banks

I’ve already begun writing my own short story of sorts but I can’t guarantee it’ll be done anytime soon. Unfortunately I’ve already experienced a few set backs, which are sapping the energy required to write more than a few paragraphs at a time. Unexplainable night sweats are robbing me of sleep and I’ve already returned to the hospital due to a developing infection in my leg. Upon hearing about the infection Bob immediately expressed regret in posting his story, but I don’t agree. Bob’s written what might be called the first chapter of what is sure to be a long and arduous process and he’s done so beautifully.

So now, I’m back home again waiting for a nurse to stop by. Today I’m learning how to self administer I.V. antibiotics, something I’ll be doing for the next 6 weeks. The possibility of a bone infection with all that metal in my leg is no laughing matter and the Docs are hitting this with everything they’ve got. This treatment will surely wreak havoc on my liver, kidneys an entire digestive tract, but in doing so will hopefully save my left leg.

More to come.

Lama Legs

2009-08-13T08:49:00.000-07:00

Can you feel a change in the force? Do you sense the presence of something special? Your intuition that someone important has arrived is spot on. Bridget has returned from the mountains of Bolivia, bringing with her stories of lamas, bowel movements, 17,000 ft alpine peaks, medicine men and a whopping 18 units of college credit for her struggles and research.

After a good nights sleep in a warm house and her first warm shower in 6 weeks she and her altitude trained body joined me for a barefoot run on the beach. I’ve spent the past month attempting to develop my abilities as a runner in hopes that the leg powered sport will distract me, if only a bit, from all the shoulder intensive sports that I love. Oddly, for the first time ever, I’m enjoying myself during quick outings on the beach. Years of barefoot walking/hiking/yoga seemed to have served me well, as my joints are accepting the mild punishment that running brings. Of course running on the beach is not without peril. During our workout I managed to step on a bee mid stride. Of course my foot swelled almost immediately. Sandbagged. We were only half way done. However, Bridget reminded me that adrenaline is the treatment for allergic reactions. So we returned to a quick pace. Interestingly enough, The symptoms of the sting were gone in under a minute and I forgot about the incident within the hour. Science!

In another interesting turn of events I received a phone call from my would be clients on Padaro lane a few days ago. Turns out they will be offering me a job afterall. The chef originally hired for the position is so good at what he does that he’ll be taking over their main residence in New York. He’ll need some time off when they return to Santa Barbara so I’ve been called in to support. So of the 5 chefs auditioned I guess I came in second, not a bad place on the medal stand. Feeling motivated by this mild success I invited some friends over for dinner, or I should say experiments. We all were very happy with the results.

Surf and Turf

-Grilled Coffee and Black Pepper crusted New York Steak

-Shrimp in Paprika Butter, Thyme, and Garlic

Flame Kissed Broccoli and Oyster Mushrooms

Warm Radicchio Salad with Caramelized Onions

Unemployment is Hard on Soft Tissue

2009-08-05T09:33:00.000-07:00

Its a well known fact that I posses an uncanny ability to injure myself. After receiving the results of my left shoulder MRI, I can now officially add yet another soft tissue injury to the resume. Dr. Proctor tells me that the labrum in my left shoulder is definitely torn to some degree. The MRI also indicates possible damage to the insertion point for one of the two bicep tendons. Neither of these injuries will heal on their own (or at least thats what I’m being told) so surgery is the recommended treatment. However, Dr. Proctor also believes that neither of these conditions should worsen much if I’m judicious with my shoulder use and is totally comfortable with me limping forward on my own. He’ll happily cut me up any time in the future with no hesitation, additional office visits or charges. After all, the best way to see what’s wrong is to get in there with some scopes and see for yourself.

So I’ll hold off. I’m not ready to spend thousands of dollars to possibly be “on the bench” for 6 months (assuming the tendon needs repair). I believe I can manage for at least a little while longer. Afterall I’m more or less functionable right? Truth be told I’ve had torn cartilage in at least my right knee since 2004 and although its limited my ability to torque on the joint I’m still able to do most “normal” activities. Maybe some day when life is more predictable I’ll settle down and get these “issues” taken care of”. For now, I’ll continue to roll the die and hope for the best.

I mean, cmon, I’ve got projects at the Tor right? How could I slow down now? Last weekend I reached a new high point on No Skill 5.12c, about as high as one can get without ticking the damn thing. I fell with the anchors in my face and rope in my hand. There just wasn’t enough gas in the tank to get the damn rope through the cold shuts. So I got on Chips Ahoy 5.12d. Even though a little voice in my head was telling me to stop while I was ahead a slightly stronger voice chimed in, “If your project feels hard, just get on something harder.” And... I tweaked my finger clipping off the two finger pocket down low. I don’t think its major, but I probably won’t be cranking for a few weeks. I need a job ASAP.

Oh to be young... 13 year old Kevin Ott locks off at his waist on Auto Magic 5.12a

Working up a Sweat

2009-07-27T09:39:00.000-07:00

In an effort to maintain some amount of sport climbing fitness I’ve spent the last few weeks exploring “lesser” crags in Santa Barbara. I’ve tried to keep an open mind about all this. Anything steep and/or longer than the wall at the shed is fair game right now. Don’t get me wrong. I haven’t entertained the idea that I might “rediscover” some ultra classic area. I’m not the first climber in the area with an interest in fitness and enough free time and motivation to seek it out. Still, I’ve had some mild success.

Justin "enjoys" the hike out

Tiger striped from manzanita attacks

"Can we go do some more laps tomorrow?"

The crux of training in Santa Barbara is endurance. There just aren’t any long routes here that require any amount of fitness (ie. The Black Wall doesn’t count). So Justin and I swallowed our pride and made a trip to Colds Springs Dome. 20 years ago this was the place to be, so I figured it had to be half decent. Aside from the hike, the climbing is actually ok, albeit limited and chossy. Back to the hike though. I’m not sure why, but for some reason the 30 minute approach felt horrendous. It’s steep, loose, and there’s charred manzanita everywhere waiting to snag anything that comes close. Not to mention the whole thing is in the sun making a summer trip to the dome even worse. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Maybe, maybe when the weather cools off, and only if the White Cougar himself tags along and gets on Predators Keep the Balance with me.

Cranking Wu Tang style

Closer to the beach, Elija and I are slowly falling in love (maybe an overstatement) with the Splash Zone. Aside from the drive through rush hour traffic on weekday afternoons, the approach doesn’t exist and the temps are great. We’ve yet to rip any holds off and neither of us are presenting symptoms of an infection. It’s steep, isolated and bolted..... What’s NOT to love? We had another run in with the cops on Thursday. Driving past on the road they could have heard a battle roar (SiUT!!!) or just caught our movement out of the corner of their eye. The amazing part is they didn’t boot us. I guess until someone complains its all good for us to climb all over defaced state property. Or is it? Who owns railway bridges anyway?

Kitchen Trials

2009-07-24T09:59:00.000-07:00

As mentioned in the previous post, I’ve been auditioning for a private chef position. After a fairly rigorous interview process I was asked to come in and cook for a few days. The principles are pasta fanatics, so I got to work honing my fresh pasta techniques.

Below are the menus I’ve served over the course of my trial period. I’d say 80% of this stuff was requested, so this felt more like a challenge than a showcase. The response was very good. So we’ll see....

Tuesday Lunch

Cobb Salad

Beet Borscht

Quinoa Pilaf

-raisons, capers, and pine nuts

Pan Roasted Cauliflower

Tuesday Dinner

Spinach Salad with Mushrooms, Peppers, Onions

Cream of Celery Root Soup

-crumbled sausage

New York Steak

-whiskey cream

Grilled Onions

Roasted Mushrooms

Blueberry Gelato

Wednesday Lunch

Platter Salad

-tomato, avocado, cucumber, mozzarella, olive, caper

Gazpacho

Artichoke two ways

-grilled

-braised

Panini

-salami, swiss, arugula, mustard

-grilled veggie, goat cheese, mozzarella,

Wednesday Dinner

Ceasar Salad

Wild Mushroom Soup

Pasta with Pesto

Braised Yellowtail

-Caponata

Asparagus in Citrus butter

White Peach Crumble

-whipped cream

Summer Days in Santa Barbara

2009-07-17T12:38:00.000-07:00

I’m slowly becoming a local out on Padaro Lane. Since returning from Utah, I’ve spent a good many days soaking up the sun at Loon Point and taking the occasional barefoot jog down the beach. Oddly, for the first time in a decade I’m enjoying running and it has yet to aggravate any of the prior injuries.

A few days back I interviewed for a private chef position with the owners of the mega property across the street from the beach parking lot. Yeah, that one. The one that’s been under construction since the beginning of time. I audition early next week. If the “educated” approach to cuisine is up their alley then I’ll be working there 10-15 days a month, an the ideal amount of work right now.

Of course in my current state of full blown climbing addiction I can’t leave an area without exploring at least some of its cragging potential. Turns out Padaro’s got something special in this area as well. The Splash Zone, an area shrouded in mystery is a glue up located “somewhere” near Padaro lane. I’d hiked in a few times curious about the climbing and access issues, but never put on shoes, let alone rope up. Shit, I’m from Santa Barbara. I’m not used to dirty needles and abundant graffiti. This place makes the Tor seem like The Four Seasons.

Somehow I got Elija motivated for an evening session. He must have believed me when I said that some of the routes looked borderline futuristic. He’s a sucker for futuristic stuff. I’ve never met a climber that enjoys getting humbled more than the boy scout from the pacific northwest who came back from the dead last year. Well turns out I was right. Yes, there are some really hard routes there. Together we did a combined three moves on one of the testpieces. Along the way we also sent a few of the moderates, all fantastic once you get over the fear of a hold blowing off at any moment. It’s hard to know how solid the work is here, especially since this place was built over a decade ago. We had a blast. No joke, this might be some of the better sport climbing in Santa Barbara. On the way back to car, Elija looks back at me, “Dude, there’s a car coming and your walking in the middle of the street!” He was right. In my post cranking haze I had wandered off into the road. I look back over my shoulder and, yep you guessed it, a cop. Perfect. Of course the guy pulls up. C’mon, two dirty guys with packs walking down the middle of a private drive. We were sorting of asking for it. I explained to the officer, that yes, I am an idiot and I understood that people aren’t supposed to walk in the middle of the road. I also assured him that we were walking back to our vehicle avoiding any explanation for our abundance of gear. The splash zone is legit.

On that note, I just might have enough time for a run before getting home to work on some fresh pasta.

"We should continue with style"

2009-07-12T09:25:00.000-07:00

The last year has been a rocky one. In and out of the country; on and off the injured list; and little if any idea as to what my future holds. I may not be old quite yet, but it feels like I’m getting older. Who am I kidding? 28 is anything but old in a world where 30 is the new 20, but its hard not to notice some differences between my current body/mind and that of my younger selves. Getting older and moving past ones physical prime is hard, but for those of us, who’s lives have come to revolve around the sports they love, the reality that our bodies getting tired is anything but blissful, or is it?

The realization that “I’m getting older” eventually metabolizes into “I’m gonna die someday”. The awareness, and more importantly, acceptance that the ride undoubtably will end is a potent motivational force. Equal parts stimulant and depressant, a relationship with the inevitable end is not an easy pill to swallow. Yet philosophers, warriors, sages, and scientists the globe over have found themselves empowered by this esoteric wisdom since the beginnings of documented history.

The turbulence encountered this past year has left me neck deep in life’s barf bag more than once, but driving home from Utah, tired, achey, and hungry the horizon was wide and my curiosity stronger than ever.

Salt Lake City continues to amaze me. We spent three days in town exploring more of the fantastic rock, food and, ... ahem... shredding that this town offers. Again the Romney Edwards team opened their doors wide giving us not just a place to sleep, but the requisite coffee and beer to properly fuel our endeavors.

Liquid Oxygen 5.12a

Steve awaits the Litmus Test 5.11c

...and cruises it

Our first day on stone was spent at the Division Wall in American Fork. I’d been here last trip and really enjoyed it. Once again the mild early summer conditions were made Division the perfect place to run a few laps and work the kinks out we’d generated over the past few days of driving. Enjoying a fine meal after a day at the crags talk inevitable turned to the days of old. We shared stories of Santa Barbara fixtures; Arvind, Perlin, Ratso, and The Pukester. And eventually, long after the sun had set and the third pitcher lost its chill, talk turned to cinema classics. It wasn’t long before we discovered that niether Justin or I had ever seen The Eiger Sanction. I’d heard talk of the Eastwood film, but never taken the time to sit down and educate myself. Well, thank god for mentors. We drove straight home, cracked open ice cold Oly’s and over the next two hours got our minds blown straight out of our skulls. The Eiger Sanction is the best movie I’ve ever seen. Period.

"It's hot and I need more coffee!"

Romney cruising one of the better routes at Hellgate

The following day Steve introduced us to two more of the immense Canyons just minutes out of town. High up in Little Cottonwood we did some “adventure” sport climbing at 9000 ft on anything but bomber dolomite limestone. Hellgate may not be the best crag I’ve ever been to, but the three long moderate routes I got on were much more fun than their loose rock and polished edges might imply from the ground. Kind of a one star wednesday crag if you know what I mean, but hell, this place would be cherished if it were on the central coast.

I had the pleasure of witnessing Romney give it 200% on this route. Sharma's got nothing on her battle roar.

Sending The Pile Left 5.12b

The afternoon was spent at The Pile in Big Cottonwood Canyon. I’ve climbed on very little quartzite, and I starting to wonder why. Bullet hard, great features and an almost glowing amber color give, quartzite is vastly different than Santa Barbara “mud”stone. The Pile may be small but the fun climbing, streamside location and cool temps would get me back next trip in a heartbeat.

Justin gets the fire started while I sort through the "supplies"

Some kid crushing Maple choss

Maple Canyon

On Monday morning Justin and I packed the truck, bid farewell to our hosts and drove south towards the cobblestones of Maple Canyon. We snagged the last campsite and spent two days exploring the world famous choss, along the way realizing that we may need to train our endurance a bit more in the future. Many of the routes in Maple are real long and real steep, and there’s good holds most of the way. Not the most interesting climbing on the planet, but really fun and physical to say the least. After a week on the road, 4 climbing days on four different types of stone, we drove home just in time for a Saturday session at the Tor.

Division Wall

-Remote Control 5.11a - onsight. good warm up. confusing up high

-Division 5.11d - Rad route, but got incredibly pumped trying to find the holds on the crux, sort of the norm at Division Wall.

-Liquid Oxygen 5.12a - redpoint. Basically a rad long boulder problem. Fantastic!

-Litmus Test 5.11c - onsight. Easy climbing to a roof. One of the better roofs I’ve been on. Nice exposure.

Hellgate

-5.10c - onsight

-5.10d - onsight

The Pile

-The Pile Right 5.11d - redpoint 2nd go. Pumpy as all hell with long moves off great holds.

-The Pile Left 5.12b -redpoint 2nd go. The crux is a clip off of a sloper. Rad.

Maple Canyon

-The Minister 5.11b - onsight.

-49 5.12a - one fall. Climbed forever, then got mega pumped only to realize there was another 40 ft to the chains. The theme continues below

-Lunchables 5.12b - one fall.

-Spray 5.10a - flash

-Skeet Shoot 5.10d - flash

-Point Blank 5.12b- not enough power endurance to send this short steep route.

-Pasties and a G String 5.11d - redpoint. Nice name, cool crux.

-Watermelon Sugar 5.11c - cool route.

It's a Fever Blister!

2009-07-05T08:44:00.000-07:00

Salt Lake City is almost 1000 miles from Santa Barbara, a bit much for one day in the car. However, Las Vegas is conveniently located almost exactly half way between the two, making it the perfect layover for our haul out to northern Utah. But lets be honest, it doesn’t take many excuses to motivate a stop off in Sin City.

So next thing I know, I’m on the pool deck drinking beers in the sun with Mr Justin Willet, my partner in crime for the next 10 days and, bless his heart, a seasoned Vegas veteran. Vegas is a super magnet for rippers and the time spent finishing a bucket of beers by the pool is more than plenty to scope some of the world’s best. Ultra Vnecks, tapout tshirts, more cheap cigars than any area should contain, and, my personal favorite, the dad telling his pre-pubescent sons that “there’s titties all over the place in there!”, pointing straight towards the casino floor. Where do these people come from? Oh yeah. America. The same country I live in. Yikes.

It sometimes baffling how many connections Justin has in the food and wine world. I can’t say I was too surprised at his suggestion for dinner at Bouchon, where he, of course, knows the sommelier well, and we’d be taken care of properly. Who am I to turn down Thomas Keller’s food accompanied by top notch wine? Shell fish on ice, fantastic salads, pate, duck confit; the list goes on. This french bistro style cuisine hit the magical note where simplicity and top notch ingredients meet the soft touch of a wise chef’s hands. After a three hour experience a shot of espresso sent us on our way into the dark night and bright lights.

Now, Justin’s not just a well connected winemaker, he’s also a single guy with needs so I followed into his bar of choice, ready to drink at least few more beers and support his cause. It wasn’t long before a group of young women moved their center of mass in our direction.

“Are you mad about something?” he asks as one glances our way, hiding behind a thin screen of cockiness. In minutes she’s on the couch next to him enamored. Soon the whole flock is curious. As conversation turns to home we discover our new friends our all from Louisiana as they learn we’re California boys. And wouldn't you know,

“Did you vote for Obama?” one asks.

“Uh, yeah.”

“I hate black people! Why would you vote for a black man?” This is where I turn to Justin and both our jaws drop. Actually, I should stop here to say that by this point in the evening, we’d already learned that all these girls were college graduates. In fact this their trip was in honor of one of their recent graduations.

“Well, he’s uh, sort of rad. Who was I supposed to be vote for instead?”

“He’s a Muslim. He’s not even from this country!”

“I’m pretty sure he was born in Hawaii.” We’re in utter shock by this point. This may be one of the most simultaneously entertaining and depressing conversations I’ve ever had. We can’t help but egg them on, and they continue to attack more than one other minority. It’s amazing that there’s enough people out there as ignorant as these girls that somehow they were comfortable telling us (more or less complete strangers mind you) exactly how they felt. Las Vegas is crazy, but I’m starting to think Louisiana must be utterly insane.

We woke feeling anything but marvelous. The few hours of sleep we were able to log was not nearly enough recovery to properly metabolize the surplus alcohol put into our systems. In perfect Vegas style we moped to the car and drove off down the strip, the dessert heat a constant reminder of how bad we actually felt. 400 miles of highway and multiple liters of Gatorade later we found ourselves lost in Salt Lake City trying to find Steve’s house. Somehow in my haze I had forgotten how to get there even though it had been only a month since my last visit.

The Long Road Home

2009-06-26T15:22:00.000-07:00

I'm in a bind. As the craving for adventure abroad grows with every taste of the road, the connections with those closest to me have only intensified. Lately I'm more inspired by the small circles of friends and loved ones that call Santa Barbara their home. I doubt this is a unique circumstance. Traveling undeniably intensifies our passions and interests, and of course, distance makes the heart grow fonder. Sitting in Peet's Coffee, my place of employment almost a decade ago, staring off towards the hills I wonder what else is out there and how my sails will catch the breeze.

The road out of Whistler was exciting to say the least. In fact, Mom you may want to skip to the next paragraph and continue from there. Bridget and I were on separate flights home and I managed to misinterpret the schedules on my calender just before going to bed on our last evening. So we walked out the door at 9 am needing to be at the airport for an international flight departing at 12:30 pm. However we still had a 2.5 hour drive ahead of us, and well, you can do the math. The drive ahead quickly turned into one of the most terrifying excursions I've yet to enjoy behind the wheel of a 4 wheel vehicle. I got in the car with a mild hangover accentuated by a severe lack of sleep. Speeding down an already dangerous mountain highway would have been bad enough in this state, but heavy rain, wind, and a solid helping of fog teamed up with the ongoing construction along highway 99 and my need to make good time to create a near perfect storm. All I wanted was to be asleep in an airplane seat, even a bus seat; I'd choose just about any other mode of transportation as long as I wasn't in control of the vessel. Grim.

In the end we both barely made our respective flights and along with the usual travel nonsense we made it home to sunny Santa Barbara. I'll be here for about a week organizing my things and looking into work opportunities before heading out on the road again. It seems I've finally gotten someone other than Bridget to bite on the climbing trip idea. Justin and I will spend the first week or so of July traveling through Nevada and Utah with cranking at the top of the agenda. More details to come.

photo: I have no idea what this creature is, but this little guy couldn't get enough of the camera. He leaves in Cheakamus. Bridget named him Stitch.

Big Brown Beavers

2009-06-23T13:53:00.000-07:00

At a certain point on every vacation (work related or not) I hit a low point. More of a reality check than anything else, the impermanence of my current bliss like state stares me in the face. This will be over very soon and there's responsibilities waiting for you at home young Micah. The need to find a place to live, a way to fund my experiences, and a greater sense of purpose, maybe a goal or two.

Over the last few days I've grappled with these concerns, or maybe their better described as chores. As I've said, the resurfacing of realities vice grip on my life is traditionally a negative experience but there's two ways to respond to change/loss. The normal way where we get really depressed and fight till we lose, or something a little more productive. Enjoy the time we DO have for all its worth and revel at the possibilities the changing future brings. Yes, we've all read this in pop spirituality novels, but the actually living it thing is really hard (at least for me). However, I may be maturing after all, because the past few days have been anything but dreary. Aside from some quick outbursts of self loathing (smiley face), I've been super psyched. "Ommm" says the granola crunching yogi sitting the floor.

HIgh above the deck in style

We've both hit the wall a little physically. We're sleeping in embarrassingly late, and even the coffee's slow to get us moving once we get out of bed. So, we've hit up some of the more popular tourist attractions, which are almost always perfect for rest days, because they rarely involve doing much at all.

The Peak to Peak gondola which connects Whistler and Blackcomb is the longest (and highest I think) unsupported suspension gondola in the world. A day pass gets one a ride up to the top of Whistler mountain across to Blackcomb and back down. I was psyched on checking out some of the alpine trails on the top of the peaks, but wouldn't you know, all the trails were closed to pedestrian traffic for some unexplainable reason. So I changed plans and started drinking instead. This turned out to be a which was a good idea, because even gondolas are enough to bring on a bout of motion sickness, and a beer or four seems to help calm the belly. Last year we saw four different black bears on our trip up here, but this year we'd only spotted one, that is until Bridget went to work from her bird's eye view high above the forrest floor. With her face plastered against the window she spotted three more bringing us closer to breaking last year's record.

The black dot is a bear
I wish I had a better telephoto lens

The River of Golden Dreams was our plan yesterday. Yes, that's the name on the map. Turns out alot, like alot alot of couples rent canoes and paddle the 11km down the mellow stream that connects Alta Lake to Green Lake. The best part is most of them arrive at the pullout point wet, angry and on the verge of a divorce. Can you imagine? "Paddle hard honey!" "I am!" "No you're not. Paddle women, work those arms!" "What? I have flabby arms?" "No, you're beautiful just paddle. Oh shit watch out for that tree!" Turns out the ROGD is a little more than a friendly stream. Don't get me wrong, it's not class 3 rapids or even class 2 for that matter, but there's some fast moving water and bushes sharp enough to take an eye out. Bridget had her eye on the bottom the whole time. "I know there's some rings in there. I'm gonna find one." After 2.5 hours of paddling both of our shoulders were kind of hammered, but I didn't feel like I aggravated my injury much at all, which is rad, considering that paddling is what has always bugged it the most. Oh and I almost forgot, we had a beaver sighting, or I should say a super beaver sighting! Here we are in the groove taking the corners like champs when all of a sudden this big brown thing comes sprinting out of the bushes, takes one hop and takes off diving in about 15 ft from river bank in perfect stream line only to vanish into the depths. Turns out beavers are big AND agile. This thing was at least the size of cattle dog, and it moved like one too. So cool.

Of course we've found time to climb as well. Rogues Gallery is Cheakamus Canyon's smaller step brother. Just a few km up the road it houses 30-40 routes all of varying nature. We had the place to ourselves and the theme of super good rock continued. I managed to slice my hand open slipping off a smear midway through the day. That's what I get for climbing on jugs right? Tore a full blown flapper in the middle of my palm. Bridget's climbing is coming to together. She still doesn't like steep stuff, but she's cruising everything she gets on that's under vertical and doing it in style. It's super fun to watch her crank.

Tick List

-Bout Du Monde 5.10a - onsight. Kind of cool exposed climbing until the sandbag crux at the top.

-Ancient Heart 5.11c - onsight. bouldery.

-Yellow Beard 5.12a - 2 fall. The name comes from the yellow lichen that's covering a a huge flake, same flake the tore my hand open. Arhh! Old Yellow Beard got me, but I'll get him next time! Great technical AND pumpy route. I took a big whipper on this one, but my new 9.4 rope was a super soft catch.

-Sanctuary 5.11d - full flail. Another really steep route. I can't believe how weak and heavy I feel on this angle. My biceps have been sore for three days from my one burn. Maybe I should be climbing at the Shed.

Blueberries and and Beer

2009-06-20T11:56:00.000-07:00

The fun continues up in the far north. We arrived almost a week ago to clear skies and warm weather, odd even this time of year in the Sea to Sky Corridor. The past few days clouds have rolled in bringing scattered showers and more traditional weather patterns. However, we've still managed to get outside and play. In fact, every day of the trip has been a bit of an adventure.

The small holds of the Nordic Wall left my fingers feeling tired and weak so the following day we set out to explore Cheakamus Lake. The seemingly short drive down the highway took us past the "soon to be completed" athletes village for the winter Olympics. From the looks of things, there's still some work to be done. Frames were barely in place on what I assume will be a massive complex. Unlike some other construction projects, I don't think a tardy finish will be acceptable.

In case you get lost?

Mushrooms are rad

A long dirt road stocked with plenty of pot holes got us to the trailhead of this popular tourist attraction. The hike is mellow and flat for the most part and 3km of walking gets one to the edge of the massive lake. Most of the trail is through forest with huge trees lining the path. The ground is so soft. Even in the stillness of the woods our footsteps are barely audible. We enjoyed a cat nap lakeside and returned refreshed. Long walks are something that I used to avoid like the plague, but more recently the combination of active rest and opportunity for mild adventure brings me a good deal of pleasure.

Thinking happy thoughts

The following day we drove back to Cheakamus Canyon to utilize the rain friendly crags it houses. The Main Event and Circus are both great in the rain because the severely overhanging Big Show (which houses Canada's hardest sport route), looms above. The crag was a bit crowded, but we met some cool people AND Benny the Dog. While his owner was projecting above he slept at the base of the cliff, that is until I opened a bar of chocolate. At the first crackle of wrapper his head poked up and he came right for me licking my face and trying to climb into my lap. Benny didn't get any chocolate, but I did treat him to a butt scratch he won't soon forget. Later in the afternoon the sun came out and we ventured back to the Forgotten Wall and got on some more routes. In the end I climbed 8 routes, a long day for me, so we came home and made burgers, good burgers. Shortly after dinner I gave into exhaustion on the couch and slept there until Bridget scrapped me up and dragged my lazy ass to bed.

This is why I get out of bed in the morning

Climbing up to the tyrolean

Bridget yanks through the end of the traverse

The forecasts are predicting heavy rains in the near future so we tried to get another climbing day in yesterday. Both of us felt sub par from the previous day, so we tried to find an area that would offer a good share of adventure so we could get a full day without climbing too much. After a few mishaps (as is always the case) we decided to head off towards Pemberton to climb at the Suicide Bluffs. This ended up being one of the raddest days we've shared and the perfect combination of activities. The approach is a full experience in itself. We waded across a flooded jeep road and walked another 10 minutes down the river where we located the steel cable used for a tyrolean traverse across to other side. Once on the other side a 15 minute hike past wild blueberry bushes got us to the crag. Along the way we spotted a family of ducks floating down some fairly serious rapids and a large deer foraging for some treats. The crag itself is dark granite about 30 meters high and it's right smack on the river. After warming up on a world class 5.9 the rain started to come down hard so we packed up and began our escape. On our way out I noticed that one of the overhanging faces was staying dry in the downpour. Bridget offered a belay so I got on yet another world class climb. Afterburner is easily one of the best routes I've ever been on. By time we got back to the car we, and all of our gear, were soaked, but we were smiling ear to ear.

Soaking wet Micah, bone dry rock

Happy girlfriend

Last year when we were up in these parts we found a pizza restaurant in Pemberton that was awesome so we revisited our little spot and once again enjoyed some well earned pizza and local brew. Driving into town I asked Bridget, "Would you rather live in Squamish, Whistler or Pemberton?" They all have a very different character. In the end I think I'd choose Pemberton. Although the most remote, it's got the best weather (dryer and warmer), there's a strong hippie natural foods movement, and the people up there all seem especially interesting. We got some beta on some lakes north of town that are very swimable this time of year so maybe we'll check those out in our remaining days.

Tick List

The Main Event/Circus

-Mirror Image 5.8 - redpoint.

-Savage Beagle 5.10a - onsight. Bridget flashed on TR right after!

-The Neutered Bovine 5.11c - onsight. Very technical.

-Face the Music 5.12a - one burn.

Forgotten Wall

-The Voodoo that you Do 5.10b- onsight

-Got Pull? 5.12a - onsight. Felt soft.

-The Reacharound 5.12b - one burn.

-Rug Munchers 5.11d- - one burn. One of the better routes on the wall for sure. Wish had more juice left for the onsight.

Suicide Bluffs

-April Showers 5.9- onsight. Marvelous moderate climbing. Many easy boulder problems along the way. Stemming crux at the top. Climbed it twice. Second time in pouring rain to clean the draws

-Afterburner 5.12a - two burns. Genius! Long moves between positive holds on a clean wall. The crux is a full dyno if you're any shorter than me. I would go back in a heartbeat. just to get on this route again.

Revisions

2009-06-19T11:31:00.000-07:00

I was reading over some of my recent posts and to be honest, I was bored silly. This blog used to have varied and interesting content, but over the past months I've allowed myself to slip much too far into the climbing blog paradigm. Posts have turned into glorified tick lists with excuses to bolster failures and drama to highlight success. I mean seriously, who wants to read about some jack ass trying to onsight 5.12a's? How many thousands of climbers are out there doing this right now? My accomplishments on rock will never be newsworthy and they're barely blog worthy, so what I am doing on here? I like using the blog as an on going tick list but this component of it, although useful to myself has got to be the lamest stuff for others to read. Like Sonnie Trotter I'll use the excuse that I've been out there having so much fun, I have little energy left to devote to creative and entertaining writing. It's easiar to just create wordy, really wordy, tick lists. My apologies.

This blog is supposed to be about living an healthy engaging and fun filled life, I'll try to bring things back to center. Goal: Use "I" as little as possible in subsequent posts.

Getting laid off aint so bad aye

2009-06-16T10:53:00.000-07:00

I love Canada, in the summer that is. I've yet to experience the cold season up here in the north, and I have a feeling sub zero temps and blizzards might freeze my enthusiasm in its tracks. Whatever the case, this is beautiful country and there's something subtle yet profoundly different about Canadians. Put simply, they're just nicer than we are. Gentle, unassuming, polite, and often times extremely helpful. Again, maybe this is just a summer phenomena. After a cold wet winter, the sun likely brings out the best in everyone.

More specifically I love British Columbia. After two trips through Victoria, a few short excursions in Vancouver and my growing experiences in the Whistler/Squamish region, I'm starting to feel at home in the Pacific north northwest. Driving the 120 km up the Sea to Sky Highway from Vancouver to Whistler I'm overwhelmed with excitement. The calm bays reach up through roaring rivers hidden by a dense forests that slowly give way to snow capped peaks. Every hue of green and blue is represented. The world feels bigger yet more intimate, and I haven't even gotten out of the car yet.

Not the master bedroom

Living room

We arrived at our accommodation late Friday afternoon. Actually, let me change that. We arrived at our residence late Friday afternoon. Part of my severance package was access to my clients property in Whistler. The top story penthouse of the Four Season's Residence in Whistler is cozy to say the least. Let's put it this way. There's a full kitchen with every appliance one might need including an espresso machine, 3 bedrooms, 4 baths and a view to boot. I assumed the first bedroom I walked into was the master, given that it housed a massive bed, jacuzzi tub and steam shower, but turns out the master was the next room down the hall. This is the end. I'm officially spoiled beyond repair.

On Saturday we drove south to Cheakamus Canyon, the main sport crag in the area. We warmed up on a 2 pitch 5.9 with some great exposure and a stellar view on top. Then we moved on to the Forgotten Wall which is a very convenient 30 second walk from the car. This wall boasts two dozen routes mainly in the 5.11/5.12 range. The rock is hard to read with many of the holds at odd angles. However, I really enjoyed the varied movement created by the odd angles, sort of a nice change from the "pull down" climbing at Red Rocks.

Tick List

-Charlotte's Web 5.9 2 pitches - onsight. Slabstastic first pitch with friction moves all over the place. Wished I would have brought the camera (and lunch) up this one with us. The summit of this rock is perfect. Halfway up the second pitch a raven landed in a tree and started barking at Bridget. Then it dive bombed right next to her.

-Low Impact 5.10b - onsight.

-Creepy Crawlers 5.11a- onsight. Really awkward in a good way.

-The Incredible Journey 5.12a - 2 falls. What a journey it was. 14 bolts and 3 different cruxes (a fall at two of them) took me nearly a half hour to finish. Someone should draw a big wall topo of this route. Crux 1: pull HARD on a finger lock to a pocket. Crux 2: slap up slopey arete and then mantle onto nothing and clip somehow (I did it in the beached whale position); Crux 3: long moves between two small crimps.

Bridget was feeling under the weather on Sunday feeling especially motivated I left the house in search of a fairly serious hike. After talking with the extremely helpful guy at the local gear shop (side note: Another rad thing about Canada is that the gear shops are actually useful as opposed to the retail hell that we enjoy in SB), I committed myself to the Rainbow Lake Trail. 8km and 800 meters of elevation gain take one from the car up to a sub alpine lake. Of course then you have to hike back down and the 16km took me about 4 hours of active hiking. The first 2/3rds of the hike is steady climbing up well groomed trail but as the trees start to thin the snow banks get bigger and soon I was kicking through thigh deep snow with only some tree markers to keep me on track. Rainbow Lake is gorgeous. On the way down I shoe skied down some of the snow banks. I got back to the car around 5pm wet from the knees down and totally spent. This hike actually makes me want to do more alpine exploring.

2 km into the trail

Many river crossings

4km in, the trees begin to thin

6 km in more than a little snow

Rainbow Lake

Hopefully the one cliff bar I brought with will get me back to the car

The days are long up here, something else I love about the summers up north. The sun rises at 4:30 and sets around 10:00. The surplus daylight makes my body hungry for activity. We climb for 5 hours and it feels like nothing. I find myself sitting on the couch at 7pm wishing I was hiking or swimming, but I've settled for cooking. Normally after climbing the last thing I want to do is cook, but with access to a great kitchen we've been cooking up a storm, and it's been delicious. Last night: Blueberry, goat cheese and rosemary stuffed chicken breast; balsamic portabella; asparagus in pan sauce; mashed potatoes.... and more than a few Tanqueray Tonics.

A kid in a candy shop

Tasty creations

Classic Talus

Yesterday we checked out the Nordic Wall. The rock is volcanic and is highly featured. Situated high above the highway in dense forest there's something really "cozy" about this place. We found some cool jug hauls to warm up on and then I went to work on some harder stuff at the main wall. I've never been to Smith, but I felt like I was climbing there. Dead vertical rock with small edges and pockets. The two routes I got on felt hard. I'm terrible on thin crimps especially when its consistent. However I love climbing on this angle and had a blast getting totally dominated by the stone. Bridget's comment after my last burn, "You crossed over on that small pocket and let out a roar that I was sure would bring the mountain lions right towards us. Sounded like some sort of mating call or something."

Tick List

-The Cat Came Back 5.9 - onsight.

-Fintastic 5.10a - onsight. A long boulder problem. Somehow really fun. I think I heel hooked every foot hold.

-Quicksilver 5.11c - 2 burns no redpoint. Yeah I got on this TWICE. The first go I got murdered. I was so pissed that I decided to rest and send. Second go I blew it, missing a crucial sidepull. Consistent flowing climbing. I almost got on it again.

-Minutes from Home 5.12a - few falls. Similar climbing to Quicksilver but less consistent. The bouldery top is thin and roartastic

That's it?

2009-06-11T12:18:00.000-07:00

So, I'm uh... back in Santa Barbara. Lyle and Ali have had yet another change in plans so I'm done working for a while. Before driving all of my stuff home I got two ok days in at Red Rocks. Bouldered at Kraft Mountain on Sunday. Ehh. Found a few ok problems, but I wasn't really blown away by most of it. The Pearl V4 totally shut me down. Looks like it might be 3 star worthy as the guide suggests, but since I couldn't do the first move, I'll never know. The following day Alison and I checked out Jane's Wall. A sort of long approach gets you to a pretty rad wall. I warmed up and then tried to onsight a few of the 5.12's, only to come up a little short on both of them. All the routes on this wall are sort of relentless and fantastic. Definitely a not to miss for the 5.12 climber. During our hike out I was startled by what sounded like an eagle taking off above. I looked up only to realize that we had startled 4 massive owls. I've never seen owls in groups like this. The nest was the size of a large bath tub. Super cool.

A few weeks back Bridget bought a ticket to come visit in B.C. (which is where I was supposed to be before the change in plans), and since I'm currently unemployed and she's got a lull in school I figured I'd buy one and we could take advantage of the time off. So we leave tomorrow. Should be pretty cool up there this time of year.

Me and my Mazda

2009-06-08T11:19:00.000-07:00

I've never liked driving long distances. Sitting in a car for more than a few hours at a time feels like some cruel and unusual punishment, and I usually shy away from road trips because of this. However, in my old age I've come to realize that hours on end in a car speeding down the highway is a necessary evil. A drive from Scottsdale to Salt Lake City would be my longest solo expedition to date, and coupled with the trip from Vegas and a full weekend of driving I'm starting to reach my limit.

Mini horse at sunset north of Flagstaff

Ten years ago I bought my first climbing video, Rampage, a bouldering flick starring, you guessed it, Chris Sharma. Early on in the film they climb at Priests Draw, a limestone area just outside of Flagstaff. The Draw is predominately roof climbing, something I'm terrible at, but my boyhood fascination motivated a stop. After a nice warm up circuit on the Triangle Boulder, a "normal" boulder situated right next to the road, I hiked up the Draw. The area is much more aesthetically pleasing than the shots I remembered from Rampage. Lots of grass and trees etc, not just the dirt you see in the video. I spent the rest of the afternoon getting humbled by roof problems. Climb on roofs I feel like I weigh 250 pounds, and usually get totally disoriented. However, many of the problems were good fun, and I'd love to spend more time here to get better at this sort of stuff.

Tick List

Triangle Boulder - half dozen V0-V3 vertical problems

Bat Cave V3 - projected this entry level roof problem for about an hour until I finally sent. En route I climbed some easier no names at the same cave.

After a burrito, beer and large coffee I set off North trying to make as much progress as possible. By the time I got to Page, the sun had set and my motivation was gone. I grabbed a motel and got some sleep. I woke early the following morning and made a beeline for SLC. Five more hours of driving got me there and I arrived not too worse for wear. I was psyched to spend some time in Salt Lake with the ultimate tour guide, none other than the world famous Steve Edwards. I'm pretty sure everyone that reads this blog knows Steve better than I do, but for those that don't Steve is old enough to be my father yet he still trains, plays and works like he's a college student. A whirling vortex of motivation, hanging out with Steve is a guaranteed good time, and hell, he offered me a room, all the coffee I could drink and was psyched to climb.

American Fork Canyon

Upon arrival Steve, Beata (his canine daughter) and I went on a quick hike up one of the many canyons just minutes from their home. I knew that there was allot of rock near Salt Lake City, but it was becoming clear that "allot" was a severe understatement. There's rock everywhere! We returned to the house met up with Lisa (Steve's wife, who's rad I might add) and they took me to one of the better Indian restaurants I've ever eaten at outside of India. You know its good when the server wouldn't talk to Lisa even though she was a regular and they opened our beers for us at the table. Like a Mexican restaurant where everything's in Spanish and the water tastes questionable, an Indian restaurant where the servers are so Indian that they are afraid to talk to a guest's wife and they open the beer as proof of its quality and freshness is almost a sure thing. With our bellies full we returned home to Manhattans and an impromptu showing of some top notch British climbing films. Ell, Committed (one and two), and of course Echo Wall. These films make me want to move to the Island, climb "piss your pants" scary routes and drink Murphy's the rest of my life. The British are so civilized about their utterly insane climbing habits. So good.

Ms. Beata plays hard to get while Steve belays

On Wednesday we met up with Trent; who's fresh back from cranking Spain for a few months, and yes he agrees with everyone else, Spain is fantastic! We took advantage of the cool weather and cranked out a number of laps at The Division Wall in American Fork. I'm told that this is a somewhat famous crag, but given that its heyday was back when I was in grade school, I had yet to hear much about it. Whatever the case, the wall looks sort of junky, but the routes are great and there's like a two dozen 5.11/5.12's. Situated right next to the river and rising out of the forest floor the slightly overhung limestone is good fun, but honestly the surroundings are so nice that I would have been content just having a picnic. We climbed until dark (which is after 9pm in Utah right now) and with little eating options at that hour Steve took me to the local pub where we shared the biggest half order of nachos I've ever seen. Yeah, we SHARED the half order. More than one pint of local brew followed as we stuck around long enough to close the pub.

Me on Struggling Man 5.12a

Tick List

Remote Control 5.11a - flash. Great Warm up

Route just left of 39 5.11b - flash.

39 5.11b - flash.

Struggling Man 5.12a - shut down by crux. 5.11 moves to a bouldery crux. Good route.

Isotomer Moner 5.12a/b - would have loved to have sent this route. Long, elegant and varied.

"This is fantastic!"

Thursday morning Steve and I hiked up to the G-spot a quartzite area that houses his new traverse project. Now, I know Steve has the ability to get extra psyched about projects of questionable quality, but I can attest to the fact that his new project is not only hard, but super good. The rock is of the highest quality and the view up on the side of the canyon is awe inspiring.

Tick List

High Traverse V4 - 2nd go. Steve's warm up for his grand traverse below.

Lisa spent most of the week slaving, but had some time and motivation this afternoon so we headed back to the house to pick her up. Short on time Steve let me sample his companies new meal replacement shake, Shakeology. Unlike many products of this nature the Shakeology powder is fully stocked with top notch ingredients and somehow tastes great. There's little "green taste" or chalky texture. I'm giving this one my seal of approval.

We piled into the car and headed off to Echo Wall up near Park City. Steve didn't say much about this wall other than that Beata loves it because of all the groundhogs that live near by. That's good enough for me. Echo Wall is a conglomerate crag with some long and sustained routes. Most of the rock I saw looked really good (yes, its better than Mr. Lees). I only got on two routes, but they were both long, sustained and very good. Then again we always love the routes that we climb well, and given that I ticked my hardest onsight to date, my opinion might be null on this one.

Tick List

Something Must Break 5.11a/b - onsight. Super long and good.

Stop That Terrain 5.12a/b - onsight. Hardest yet. Rad. Even better than the warm up.

Friday morning the plan was to check out the bouldering in Little Cottonwood Canyon, but the weather wasn't having it. As soon as we walked out the door the clouds moved in and dumped. Needing to be back in Vegas by Saturday morning, I decided to head off and try my luck bouldering in Saint George on the way back. Moe's Valley is the highest praised area in town, but my dinky rental car couldn't handle the 4 wheel drive recommended road, so I checkout The Gap. A 20 minute hike down into the basin gets one to a small cluster of varnished black and tan sandstone. Both guides I have only note 15-20 problems, but I'm sure there's more in this canyon. Short on light I set to work on the ones in the guide. I ended up sending almost every problem in the area. This feat along with some other people's experiences in the area leads me to think the grades are soft, like really soft. I'm downgrading them all. However, some of the problems are world class. Well worth a stop if you're in the area.

Saint George Sunset

Tick List

Dozen or so V1-V4. No names. Lots of flashes. Great boulders.