I’ve spent a lot of time gazing into my navel and pondering the meaning of adventure in the last couple of years – perhaps as I get old and soft and gray I wonder more. Perhaps my eyes are gradually opening to the world and the various ways we approach life.

As for sheer unmitigated adventure, I’m sure we can all agree that little can compare to Ernest Shackleton’s 1914 mind-blowing epic journey to Antarctica. One of the most abso-fucking-lute badass adventures of all time. Reading the amazing story in Alfred Lansing’s book Endurance: Shackleton’s Incredible Voyage, a read that you should not miss, left me slack jawed, with shivers on back of my neck, and realizing that I – and everybody I know, including the most badass climbers – are all complete and total wussies.

But few things in this world exist in black and white, and I believe adventure exists on a spectrum.

To a child, for example, the entire world holds potential for adventure. Everything is new – the ultimate beginner’s mind. Who guides that potential, and how?

My friend Jason Albert knows adventure from a variety of angles. He was my first steady climbing partner, some 15 years ago, and, as I alluded to in my article in Alpinist 28, the very fact that he put up with “Sketchy Kelly” shows he had a tremendous sense of adventure, though I’m grateful that he drew the line and refrained from his fully justified fantasies of putting an ice axe through my head (“Hey Kelly, look over there, it looks crazy burly but I’ll bet you can climb it!” Thwack!). He’s an active and experienced outdoor athlete, and nowadays his biggest adventures come as a stay-at-home dad.

In a recent Cleanest Line piece, “Backyard World,” about guiding his young boys through adventures close to home, Jason puts it powerfully and eloquently: “My adventures now are at once more complex, subtle, and wrapped in penetrating challenge. The challenge is to make close-to-home adventure the real deal.” He also wrote an excellent article, The Big Red Island, about a year spent living in Madagascar villages (his wife does ring-tailed lemur research) with their then two-and-a-half year-old son.

Anyway, here’s to adventure in its various forms, from cradle to grave. Click on Jason’s terrific narrated “Backyard World” slideshow, embedded below (if it works; if not, click here for the original site; embedding this taxed my tech skills beyond previously known levels – also, I don’t know how to make the “play/pause” buttons appear, but just click on the image to start playing, and click again to pause). It’s only two minutes long, and worth every second. That’s what she said.

Enjoy.

Vodpod videos no longer available.

The North Face could learn something from the rapper Jay-Z.

Back in 2004 someone calling himself Danger Mouse made an unauthorized mash-up album, combining lyrics and beats from Jay-Z’s The Black Album with background samples from The Beatles’ White Album. Recording industry giant EMI, who controls The Beatles’ work, flipped. I remember an interview with some corporate lawyer guy blathering about abominations, wanton disregard, the fullest extent of the law and capricious blahblah freakin’ blah. Then they interviewed Jay-Z, who – well, I’ll get to his reaction.

Anyway, a St. Louis teenager, Jimmy Winkelmann, recently started a small clothing company as a joke. He called it The South Butt, with the tagline, “Never Stop Relaxing” – playing off The North Face and their tagline, “Never Stop Exploring.” He’s got a funny little disclaimer on his website, ending with “If you are unable to discern the difference between a face and a butt, we encourage you to buy North Face products.”

Cute, worth at least a chuckle, harmless. The kid hasn’t done any damage, hurt our collective resources, endangered others, etc. But has he, somehow, damaged TNF’s image? I doubt it. TNF seems to be doing a fine job of that on their own.

The seven billion dollar company, owned by the mega VF Corporation, is suing the kid in court. C’mon, guys. Seriously?

Unlike the music example above, it’s not even clear that young “ignorance of the law is no excuse” Jimmy infringed on TNF’s rights – he has an original name, and a different, albeit somewhat similar (as if no such similarities exist elsewhere in the business world), logo. Besides, satire and parody are protected forms of free speech.

Not surprisingly, the tiny South Butt’s business has exploded since TNF unleashed the dogs.

“It’s pretty much just amazing, but it’s all thanks to The North Face, I mean, them suing me – well, first threatening me was, like, a huge gift, and then when they actually tried to take me to court it was, like, the best Christmas present ever, huhuh,” that dastardly Winkelmann kid said in a classic TV interview – check it out.

Even if TNF/VF’s high-powered law team succeeds, or they bury the kid in legal fees, why? Why turn a moderately challenging situation into a PR nightmare? The longer this continues, the more they make themselves look greedy, humorless, and out-of-touch, even bully-like. For a company with a great athlete team, a great history, and who donates to many good causes, I think they’re screwing-up on this one.

Surely they’ve got sharper minds on board than this, no? Maybe they could adopt a sense of humor and figure out a way to have some fun with it. Who knows, maybe some overzealous exec who’s never gotten off his, ahem, South Butt, is getting chewed-out right now for being too uptight and they’ll change course tomorrow and drop the case.

The kid in TNF's crosshairs.

Better yet, they could turn it into something positive. Come out with a statement that sounds like a real person (don’t let anyone who wears a suit and tie write it) who’s coming to the realization that they’ve gotten a little off track and overreacted – we’ve all been there – and make amends, call off the Hounds of Hell, and donate what you’d spend in legal fees to some great cause. Heck, do it with the kid on-camera in a loving embrace with his parents (“Oh thank you, thank you, for not taking my parents’ home away from us!”), maybe some pretty flowers and some puppy dogs frolicking (just don’t mix-up the cages and accidentally unleash the Hounds).

Or simply be cool about it. Take a hint from Jay-Z, who appears to be wearing a TNF Snorkel Jacket in some of his older videos. When asked what he thought about Danger Mouse’s mash-ups of his raps with songs from the Beatles, his response was very un-EMI, un-TNF like. He replied, “I think it’s fly.”

Wharton’s win at the Ouray Ice Comp got me thinking about things I already knew. After some cragging with him and Brian McMahon – Josh and Brian did the awesome first ascent of The Flame, and then a new route on Shipton Spire a few days later, in Pakistan in 2002 – Brian and I got to talking. “Josh has always been bolder than me and he’s always been a good technical climber,” Brian said, “But he’s gotten so much stronger and better it’s amazing.” We’d just watched Josh cruise 5.13s in Eldo; we’d both been on the other end of the rope with Josh on huge alpine climbs; and about 10 days later Josh won the Ouray Ice Comp. Absolutely awesome, and Josh, also a terrific human being, has earned every bit of it. Brian’s words could have been my own, and I nodded my head and smiled. Josh not only climbs a ton, but has really upped his game from training his ass off. Training works.

Josh campusing at a lunch stop on the drive to Askole, on our 2004 Pakistan trip.

Through pushing yourself, you make what feels hard now seem easy later – both in fitness and in technical climbing. Gains happen both physically and psychologically. For trying to be a complete climber, I’m talking about going long when you’re building up to mountain-day fitness (I mention a bit about my different phases or times of emphasis in my initial training post) – when, after awhile, eight, then twelve, then fifteen hour days feel reasonable. And then doing them consecutively, which would wreck you previously, suddenly feels reasonable. Talking going hard with intensity of training sessions, pushing yourself through lung-busting and muscle-searing intervals. I’m also talking about pushing on more difficult climbs.

The latter has long been my weakness. We tend to focus on the things we already do well. It’s hard to step out of that comfort zone, swallow your pride and push into realms where you feel like a total rookie. For me, that means harder technical rock climbs. And, for sure, what’s hard for me is cake for some of my friends. But that’s OK, we all have our limitations, and good climbing and training partners help and support you while you improve. I’m lucky to have such good friends.

And the time demands can be rough – I don’t get paid to climb, and my work deadlines pile up, sometimes slip, I hit most and beg for forgiveness on others. But climbing is a big priority for me. It keeps me sane and I love it. Even more than margaritas – but a good Corralejo Blanco marg sure tastes fine after a hard day of training. I digress…

Scotty D, my longest-running climbing partner, sending his 5.13 project in Lyons a couple summers ago.

Anyway, yeah, I’m decent at running up 5.easy fast, and I tend to move OK in the mountains. But by finally forcing my sorry ass to climb harder as part of my training, not only does it open-up more climbs to me by expanding my skill, but suddenly my perceptions of 5.easy shift. Just like with the fitness training – you make what feels hard now seem easy later.

My late friend Micah Dash made an impression on me after his trip to Trango Tower (often called, incorrectly, “Nameless Tower”), next door to Great Trango Tower, in Pakistan. He, Nick Martino, and Renan Ozturk blazed up the 3,000 feet of hard technical rock climbing in a mind-blowing 12 hours, but retreated on the easier ice and mixed ground leading to the summit. Though bad weather had moved in, Micah, refreshingly, dismissed the obvious excuse when we talked and told me that they simply weren’t comfortable enough on the icy stuff to motor up it. I was amazed, given how they smoked the rock. It reminded me of a couple of things:

1. We all have our areas of expertise and our areas of weakness.

2. Our weaknesses are what hold us back.

3. It takes a strong person to address those weaknesses.

And so it inspired me when Micah returned from that trip and worked on improving his ice and mixed climbing – he wanted to be an alpinist, not just the excellent rock climber that he already was. He didn’t just talk about it, he made it happen – no excuses.

*****

Below is my poorly detailed training log for the last 10 days or so. This would be a cruise for some people, harder for others – it’s important to individualize your training. Right now I’m working on high intensity fitness and skill development (“What skills do you have, Napolean…”) while keeping an eye on how I feel so as to avoid injury. Maybe some of this will give some ideas for your own training. I’m happy to explain my notations and abbreviations, and anything else.

12/31/09            climbed that ice/mixed thing out at Rock of Ages with Mark Kelly. Exc little outing (about 6 hrs CTC), good to remember how to do the sketchy stuff

1/1/10                  trail run/pwr hike with pack into Eldo the back way (i’m a cheap bastard…) — maybe 45 min? go to Rincon wall to meet Josh and Brian. Just a little climbing, but some hard – TR work on Evictor (12+ R – I excel at top-roping R-rated routes….). damn, doesn’t take much of that to work me.

1/2                        easy day. Dry Tool system board/bouldering, 5′ w-u on board, then 2:30″ on with :30″ rest x 4, w/ 7.5, 12.5, 7.5, 0 # added. Also did 10′ finger board workout – great time efficient stuff from Metolius – modified (made easier) advanced one.

1/3                        ski tour in Park w/ Jenna, ~3.5 hrs RT. Great day.

1/4                        intervals on Gem Lake Trail (steep run), to some specific landmarks I have (for first 2 intervals). Snow/ice made footwork tricky. 5:18 on (run hard as can), 2:40 off(rest). 5:36 on, 2:30 off. 5′ on, 2′ off. Then 3x:30″ on, 15″ off. HARD. Then easy/short dry-tool bouldering at gym on way home.

1/5                        climb at Rincon Wall, cold, but got on hard stuff (incl TR work on Evictor again…suddenly seeming maybe possible eventually…). Ended up being good day. With Brian & Kierra, Tommy & Becca, and Jenna.

1/6                        much needed rest. Getting back into training hard and trying to climb harder tires me out. Intensity is everything.

1/7                        ski tour in park, 1 hr, good aerobic pace. Then to Rod’s Gym (our local garage gym; Rod Willard’s old place — props to John & Patti Bicknell for keeping it Rod’s Gym), did good warm-up with weights and body wt exercises, then high intensity circuit:

3 rounds (no rest between exercises or rounds, going as hard as possible) of:

1. (clean barbell from floor into:) 10 Front Squats, 10 Lunges (5 ea leg, alternating), 10 Push-Press; w/ 60-70# BB (not sure how much our bar weighs; I’m about 142#)

2. Turkish Get-Ups, 40# DB, 3 each arm

3. Air-Dyne sprint 1.5 km (not calibrated, but takes like a minute or so? RPMs >90; if dip below, then penalty sprint to >95)

12:38 (shit, I think; forgot to record my time) — Freakin’ hard by the end. work up to 4 or 5 rounds = brutal.

Then to rock gym, about 6 pitches up to 11+ (mostly easier; tired). good day.

1/8                         quick ski tour with Tommy at Hidden Valley – about 45 min uphill, exc little workout, solid pace (with him, of course…)

1/9                        Quarry Wall in Golden with Paul Gagner – moderate uphill approach. Then 7 pitches, 5 @ 5.11 or more. Good stuff for short day. OS attempt @ 11+/12- crack, one leader fall. Fell once on each of 2 5.12 TRs. Close.

1/10                        feeling total body fatigue and specific upper body fatigue. But will rest Mon for big-ish climbing day Tues, so did hill running intervals. 7 x 2′ on/hard, 1′ off/easy

1/11                         great day of rest. Climbing tomorrow.

Flowers. Beautiful flowers. So many times I thought of those and what they meant, what they represented, while reading Jens Holsten’s article The Heart of the Day, in the latest issue of Alpinist magazine. Holsten, a young (20-something) alpinist from Washington’s Cascades, takes us through his incredible trip to Alaska with Max Hasson, while also giving us background on his devotion to living in the dirt and making it happen, and a beautiful glimpse into his love for his dying mother.

Damn, Alpinist does a terrific job. I’m a fan of climbing writing and climbing stories that extend well beyond the “and then I put the yellow TCU here and…” bullshit, or the thinly veiled thumping of one’s own chest, and the omnipresent hyperbole. We’ve got TV for that shit. Endless this-will-make-you-cool gear reviews, fashion shots, and pop-culture celebrity covers don’t do it for me, either. We’ve got the paradoxically named Outside magazine for that.

I think that what Alpinist, and all good climbing writing, does so well is to unwrap the deeper threads that draw us together, things shared throughout life despite the different shades within our obscure craft. It’s timeless, but that doesn’t make it old. Sure, we all know “it’s about the experience,” right, right, blah, blah – but when it comes to communicating that through storytelling, it’s damn difficult to do well, and extraordinarily rare to do extremely well. Too often, I think, we fall into the traps of clichés and predictability, miss the line between overly stoic and mawkish, and give in to summary-statement endings (my personal pet peeve) that ruin the article. Side rant: I think that sentences containing “and then I realized that it was…” (so much for “show, don’t tell,” eh?) or “in the end, it wasn’t about the climbing,” and their various devil spawn, should be now and forever banned from the printed page. Not that I’m in any position to criticize, granted.

To drift a little more, there must be something intrinsic to commitment that lends itself to great storytelling, which might explain why, unfortunately, virtually zero good literature exists about sport climbing/bouldering/cragging – not trying to rip on those crafts, fun as they are, utterly mind-blowing athletically at the high end, and much as I enjoy them. It seems it should create some good lit, though – unless I’m just missing it (along with the longtime climbing historians and literature buffs, and the book festival jurors) – surely similar attributes and drive exist among the dedicated. Hell, people live in their cars, make huge sacrifices, get maniacally obsessed with a little chunk of obscure stone, all in order to clip bolts and do boulder problems. Why the lack of great writing? Surely they’re not all illiterate. Hell, brain-damaged alpinists manage to write historically great mountain literature. And baseball – baseball! It doesn’t get any more boring than that – has great literature. One of the best sports books I’ve read is Levels of the Game, by John McPhee. It’s about a tennis match. I hate tennis. Loved the book.

Anyway, I don’t know why the dearth of quality, memorable, lasting sport climbing or bouldering writing, but I think we’re poorer for it. Unless it’s just me missing the boat – fire off your thoughts and theories, I’d love to hear ‘em. I have, however, to prove my point that cragging and great writing shouldn’t be mutually exclusive, heard wonderful things about Jerry Moffatt’s (co-written with Niall Grimes) recent award-winning book Revelations, perhaps one of the first ever great books about short-form rock climbing – but that’s just it, it sounds like it’s not actually so much about climbing, any more than, for examples from Alpinist 29 (I haven’t read every article yet), Jeff Benowitz’s article is about a busted leg (he’s one helluva storyteller and writer, for those unfamiliar with him), Majka Burhardt’s about just ice climbing, or Andrew Querner’s about another perfect-body-posed photo essay.

Anyway, I love the issue and Holsten’s article, with the glimpses of his journey through his early years, striving, dreaming, then reaching a goal you’ve dreamed of for so long that it feels like it isn’t even you, but layered with the complexity of losing his dying mother far too early, her struggle, his youth and dreams, and the compassion of a terrific climbing partner, Max Hasson. But, fair warning: If you need to know the move-by-move and pitch-by-pitch description, complete with ratings and machismo in describing one of the best trips of the year by American climbers, you’ll be disappointed. Not me. It has what I consider a trademark characteristic of good writing in that not only must you continue reading, but it’s not over when you finish the final word. The best writing keeps me thinking for hours, days, or even longer after I finish. It evokes lasting feelings and often makes me think of things beyond the story. Like flowers. How flowers change, adapt, shift form, wilt and die, bloom again and come alive, and show us simple beauty much like the beauty of life.

Remember when you were a little kid and stuck your hand in the cookie jar when nobody was looking, or climbed towering trees at recess, or onto the roof of the school? Even if you risked getting in trouble (some overweight gym teacher yelling up from the kickball court gave a perverse joy, did it not?), or even if the cookie – or the climbing – wasn’t that good, it was still fun. There’s something to not just following the tape that makes chasing the here today, gone tomorrow, fun – even if it’s not always fun.

Approaching the smear, by the Rock of Ages crag, Moraine Park, RMNP.

Maybe that’s part of what I love about ice and mixed climbing. Being cold isn’t fun, being scared is kind of fun but not really though maybe it is, and the screaming barfies are pure hell. Scoring a rare gem, though? Love it. I also love what I call The Chase – finding what’s formed where, the endless theories (usually wrong) about what’s “in” based on weather patterns and rumors, the wondering if the info you got from someone else is right or if they’re keeping something from you. It’s like our own silly little version of those conspiracy-spy-chase movies.

In a weird way, it’s especially rewarding around here, where we don’t have the ice that they have in Cody, Montana, Canada, or the Northeast. Hooking my way up the typical hacked-out Colorado ice is OK, I guess, but it’s kind of like going to the gym, just in a cooler environment.

To find the good stuff, taking the tools for a walk is part of the deal. Sometimes it pays off even on classics, as I recently wrote about on Dougald MacDonald’s excellent new Colorado outdoor adventure website (which, of course, I think he should call ‘Rado MoJo – ya know, brah, I’m just putting the rad in Colorado…).

Anyway, for years I’d heard rumors of an ice and mixed climb that forms once in a blue moon out by Rock of Ages, one of the best rock climbing crags around.

Once in a blue moon...me on the route. photo: Mark Kelly

New Year’s Eve was, in fact, a blue moon, and so my good friend and former Coop-lord Mark Kelly (he owned the land on which I squatted in the Chicken Coop for three years – a 7×11-foot shack) and I figured we should take the tools for a walk. On nothing more than a hunch, I’d done a trail-run recon a few days prior, and through the swirling snow saw this mystery smear from the trail. I’d spaced my binoculars, so couldn’t see if it was any good, and was tied up for the next couple of days. Come the 31^st, I had no idea if it’d still be in, but Mark and I headed out.

The last time I’d been to Rock of Ages, ironically, was in November, as the fall disappeared and winter rolled-in right before our eyes, a blowing snowstorm from the head of the valley about to engulf Josh Thompson and I as I started up The Wasp, a hard-for-me rock route that I’d worked on a few times and wanted to send. It was literally my last opportunity, nearly to the minute, before the seasons changed. We hiked out happy, the wind chasing us toward the trailhead like a door slamming shut behind us.

Mark Kelly topping out in the suddenly-cold-and-blustery.

Now Mark and I hoped for something entirely different, for a frozen smear to hang in there just a little longer under the wilting sun. From the trail it didn’t look good. Sunny and warm. Still, you never know until you go, and so Mark and I lumbered up the snow-covered booby-trapped talus field to the base of the smear, left of the rock routes in a groove and corner system, and we started up. Winter suddenly rolled in again, we shivered our balls off, half the meager ice fell off upon touching it, the other half fractured, protection proved challenging, the climbing was OK but not great, super technical and hard to rate, I got scared, but we didn’t see another soul and we climbed it and we were happy. The smiles stayed on our faces all the way back to the car. Kind of like scoring a morsel from the cookie jar.