I first went up onto the Wapta Icefields when I was 12 or so. It was a powerful experience; big terrain, cold, warm huts, good people, all the things I like. I've been back up there a half-dozen times over the years and always enjoyed it. For those who aren't familiar with the Wapta Icefields, it's a huge area of connected glaciers just north of Lake Louise. A mega-classic ski tour crosses the Wapta via four nicely spaced huts; most people spend somewhere between three and five days skiing the roughly 55km trip. This is a fairly relaxed pace, and allows time for forays up various peaks and some nice skiing without a pack. The Wapta is one of the reasons I like living in Canada; it's a wild, remote area with burly peaks and fierce weather. I've seen it go from sunny and pleasant to the proverbial "inside of a ping pong ball" in under an hour. If the weather goes sideways route-finding can involve throwing a colored string on the snow in front of you to see the terrain in addition to the usual compass/GPS work. But on a fine day there is no more scenic and stellar place to be than high on the Wapta.
A couple of years ago Josh, Darryl and I skied the whole traverse from Peyto Lake to West Louise in a day. We choose to use light NNN gear we rented from Gear Up; heavy AT or Telemark gear seemed too slow to really move on. We left the car very early in the morning in late March or so and did the traverse in just under 11 hours. We were pretty tired , but I'd been doing a lot of long days in the mountains that year and felt pretty good on the whole traverse, just idling along without pushing too much. Watching that much great snow and scenery go by was fantastic; peaks just visible in the distance are suddenly off your shoulder, and new vistas are always just over the next roll of snow or pass.
Last week I saw my friend Phil in downtown Cannmore. Phil is a certified "AM," or aerobic monster; ex-Canadian Nordic team, regular winner of psycho trail running races, that kind of guy. He also wants to do more mountain sports action, and a plan was hatched to do the Wapta in a day but try to go a little faster. Phil spends a lot of his winter on nordic skis, and I've been out about ten times this season so I was feeling pretty solid on 'em. In retrospect, ten or so trips out on the skis with my kid on my back does not a nordic season make. Another friend, Graham, also wound up on the trip. He's done the Wapta a few times, and is also an aerobic monster. He was one of Canada's top Nordic guys when younger, but opted out of the racing scene. He now works as a ski tech for the Canadian National Nordic team and skis a lot all winter long in addition just generally giving it. So I had two aerobic monsters lined up; I was sure records were going to fall, the AMs would break trail and I'd cruise along in back swigging Red Bulls and enjoying the scenery. Ignorance is bliss.
We left the car at 9:30 and dealt with the initial cruise down and across Peyto Lake. This is when I realized I was in trouble; the two Aerobic Monsters took off like scalded cats with perfect Nordic technique. I chased 'em with less than perfect technique. We were all using gear from Phil's collection of light back country gear (Phil also runs X-C.com, a nordic demo and race team so he has stacks of good light gear), and the waxless system wasn't gripping too much. No worries, breathe, up the moraine, down onto the glacier, wax the waxless skis (don't argue with the Canadian Team tech about what wax is best for waxless skis, it's blue over purple over fish scales of course) past the Peyto hut, across glacier, over the col, down to Balfour hut. No real stops, going for me pretty hard the whole time while chasing the AMs... A cutting wind from the right blew enough snow to reduce visibility and cause a frosty right cheek but nothing serious. I grooved on the teamwork and blue glaciers and peaks, that's why I do this sort of thing. It was the pace that was killing me!
At Balfour hut we met up with Josh, who I had done the tour with two years earlier and was up on the Wapta training for his ski guide's exam with a bud. Josh had some water sorted for us, thanks! We stopped just long enough to refuel and jury rig some ancient skins to the skis for the climb up to Balfour col. I had a whole box of narrow skins left over from back in the day when I used to tele ski; with some tape they fit perfectly. We'd now been out at it for about five hours, and I was suffering hard on the 2,000 foot climb up to Balfour col. The wind was blowing, and some clouds were moving in. The light went flat enough that the skis glowed against the snow, which was at times about all we could see. But there were remnants of old tracks, and Graham punched it to the top of the col to get a bearing toward the Scott Duncan before the weather totally imploded. I gasped upwards and arrived there a few minutes after Phil and Graham, not so bad considering my leg flexors were screaming and I was upchucking regularly... Luckily the weather relented, and we had a good cruise down to the Scott Duncan hut. By cruise I mean double-poling, kicking, and generally not allowing anything as restful as simply sliding along down the gentle downhill grade...
From the Scot Duncan hut we had a short section of uphill (no reason to slow down any for that though), chase the AMs some more, then finally some serious downhill to Sherbrook lake. The skiing was pretty industrial on a sun-baked breakable crust, but the light gear worked surprisingly well. You can ski just fine on really light gear if you tele and don't mind falling down occasionally. Then it was a pinball-style careen down the creek and onto the obnoxiously flat lake. I sorta thought we might start just cruising as we were no longer in danger of the weather shutting us down and we were relatively close the car, but no, the AMs kicked it up a gear and I chased. Right on the nose of eight hours after leaving the car we were back at Phil's truck. I was crushed physically but stoked on the trip--even though I spent a lot of the time gasping it's still a fine memory of a huge amount of terrain in such a short period of time. I would NEVER have moved that well without Phil and Graham setting the pace out front. It was nice to see they were also at least tired--and even talking about taking a rest day. Just to put things in perspective, Phil did a race and then skied an additional 30 or so K the day before we did the Wapta, and Graham ran up Lady Mac (about 1,000M) and back down. There is "fit" and then there is Fit.
There's a rumour that the Wapta has been skated in under seven hours at night; that would be a cool way to do it. We still had full winter conditions with some light trailbreaking and generally fluffy snow, but maybe if I train a ton for the next month and the AMs are up for it...
I did learn a few things on this trip that I'm looking forward to applying in the future. First, super light gear is the way to go. When I was a kid that's what I skied on, and it always worked just fine. We passed several parties slogging with AT gear, the difference between a light NNN or equivalent setup and that is night and day for really moving. Maybe super-light AT race gear would also work, but that gear isn't double-cambered and doesn't kick as well in general. Second, I'm never using waxless skis again, they don't glide or stick as well. I've tried three different brands, the waxless idea is nice but it just isn't as good as wax and skis for the steep bits. I think we could have cut 20 minutes or more off our time with waxable skis. I'm going looking for the ultimate light backcountry setup. It's temping to use full classic race gear, but the descents would be pretty tough on that with the breakable crust. You could do it, but I'd worry about breaking the skis--or myself. Second, we did not have ideal conditions but still sent the trip in eight hours. What's possible in 24? The possibilities are cool! I can see a reincarnation of an old sport somewhere here. Right now most people are either using super light gear on the tracks, or relatively heavy AT gear. There's a slot in there for moving well over big distances in the backcountry, perhaps much as those who did the original big Rockies ski traverses used. Light is still right.
Thanks to Phil and Graham for a wicked day of it! And I'm going to train some more...
Phil put his version of the trip up here, cool to read it from another perspective.
March 11 note: I wrote the above while still in some sort of aerobic deficit; I maybe should have mentioned that the Wapta is a pretty serious place in general. I live in the Rockies and the power of the Wapta is well-known around here, but for people not from this area the serious nature of travel on the Wapta is maybe not so obvious from my post. The traverse involves a tremendous amount of travel through tricky glacial terrain (think big holes under the snow--walking on the Wapta in the summer can be frightening when those holes are visible!). We choose a day with a good forecast, and we were fully prepared to retreat quickly if the weather wasn't reasonable. We still carried enough gear (shovels, down jackets, food) that if we were benighted by bad weather or something as simple as a twisted ankle we would have been OK if not exactly comfortable. There have been several deaths and a LOT of stressful epics over the years on the Wapta, it's a full-on place that my post above didn't really do justice to. The only place in the world I've ever frostbitten anything was on the Wapta, and the only time I've ever fallen over while standing still (sober ) due to complete disorientation was in a Wapta whiteout. A GPS, map, compass and some common sense are critical items, as is the knowledge to use them.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Fearless Planet Shows
It's my week to spray about stuff I've done I guess... I've had a bunch of emails (well, mostly from people like my parents) asking where they can get DVDs of the Fearless Planet shows I did last fall for the Discovery Channel. They're finally for sale here. The show has run all over the world--except Canada. I guess we can't handle it or something? But now we can at least get the DVDs here, which is somehting. It's odd to do media with Asia one night and then have to say to a Canadian reporter, "Sorry, you can't see the show in Canada unless you have some sort of super satellite system..." I actually didn't see all the shows myself until last week!
The shows aren't perfect, but after actually watching them all I'm pretty happy with them. When I do my own shows I have a lot of control over everything from cameramen to locations (mostly I do my shows to have some fun in a cool place), but for a big series like this I was "just" the talent. I learned more about production and myself doing these shows than I have in years, it was intense. There's always a story behind every TV show; what you see on the screen is just the end product of a lot of tough decisions and bartering between the production company, the channel, the writers, the editors, producers, etc. Everybody I worked with on those shows from Impossible Pictures to the geologists to the heli pilots was a solid professional I'd happily work with again, and you can't always say that. The other night Peter Hausseler, the geologist I worked with in Alaska, was through town and we hooked up to go speed skating on the Calgary Oval. He's a dedicated speed skater who competes internationally in addition to being a bad-ass geologist; I'd never been on speed skates before. I was sore, but that's the sort of person involved in the show, and I'm proud to have worked him and everyone else.
And I'm continuing to climb and ski, it feels like the start of the season after so much time down with injuries, yeah! I hope everyone is getting out lots.
The shows aren't perfect, but after actually watching them all I'm pretty happy with them. When I do my own shows I have a lot of control over everything from cameramen to locations (mostly I do my shows to have some fun in a cool place), but for a big series like this I was "just" the talent. I learned more about production and myself doing these shows than I have in years, it was intense. There's always a story behind every TV show; what you see on the screen is just the end product of a lot of tough decisions and bartering between the production company, the channel, the writers, the editors, producers, etc. Everybody I worked with on those shows from Impossible Pictures to the geologists to the heli pilots was a solid professional I'd happily work with again, and you can't always say that. The other night Peter Hausseler, the geologist I worked with in Alaska, was through town and we hooked up to go speed skating on the Calgary Oval. He's a dedicated speed skater who competes internationally in addition to being a bad-ass geologist; I'd never been on speed skates before. I was sore, but that's the sort of person involved in the show, and I'm proud to have worked him and everyone else.
And I'm continuing to climb and ski, it feels like the start of the season after so much time down with injuries, yeah! I hope everyone is getting out lots.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Cross-Country Paragliding Clinics in March, April and July
The schedule is coming together for a bit of a spring tour on the West coast. I've been teaching cross-country paragliding clinics for about ten years, it's a lot of fun and I always leave the courses excited to fly. I think I've become a far better pilot through these clinics; if you want to really understand something just try teaching it.
The clinics are two-day events, with a "get fired up to fly" show on the night of the first day. Each day starts with about two hours of discussion, then we go fly, then debrief in the evening. Just about anyone with the minimum of a basic PG license will get a lot out of the clinics. I help each participant develop a better "mental model" in his or her head for flying XC. The ideal mental model gives the longest possible flight on a given day with the least amount of unplanned risk. I start each clinic with a general overview of how the sky works, and how to stay in it, and then move to narrower and narrower topics until we're finally talking about how to modulate glider pressure on glide with the bar . I know these clinics work from the emails I receive from past participants--even years later. And I know they work because I'm a better pilot after every clinic too. Each clinic is planned around the people in the clinic; if one group wants more information on flight planning and one wants more on competing then I'll shift the focus around as desired.
I often get asked, "So when are you doing XC clinics? And how come I don't know about them?"
Here's the answer, hope to see a few people there! Please contact the schools directly to book a place in the clinics, I don't do the bookings. Do feel free to email me with any questions about course content or whatever, thanks.
April 5th-8th: two sessions with Jeff Greenbaum through Airtime. Clinics to be held toward Fresno. Contact info:
April 12-14: One session with Seattle's top school, Seattle Paragliding. Contact Info:
End of July: XC Clinic with Muller Windsports, Contact Info.
Fly safe enough,
WG
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
An interesting read on risk
Check it out.
I don't completely agree with the author's take on why young men (and I think he dismisses the risk taking of young women far too quickly) engage in risky behaviour, but I enjoyed his perspective. Thanks to Rob Crowley on the PG Forum for the link.
I don't completely agree with the author's take on why young men (and I think he dismisses the risk taking of young women far too quickly) engage in risky behaviour, but I enjoyed his perspective. Thanks to Rob Crowley on the PG Forum for the link.
Monday, March 03, 2008
Ice Mines Wins at Vancouver Festival
Last year Andreas Spak, Daniel Karlsson and a crew of characters went and climbed underground ice in Sweden. It was an insane trip for many reasons but also totally rewarding. We made a few cuts of the film for various TV programs (NBC, Discovery, Rush HD), but I was most happy with the film festival cut--that's the one we made for our friends in the outdoor world. I just received an email from the Vancouver Mountain Film Festival, that film fest cut for "Best Canadian Mountaineering Film," yeah! Nice to see the hard work from Dave Brown, Ben Pritchard, Christian Pondella, Emerge Media (editing, graphics and general Gadd-wrangling as usual) and other friends recognized, especially here in Canada. So nice work team underground!
For those who haven't seen the film, we basically found the largest concentration of insane ice I've ever seen anywhere. Unfortunately, it's underground, dangerous to access/climb and in Sweden. But the future of ice climbing in a warming world is for sure dark!
WG
For those who haven't seen the film, we basically found the largest concentration of insane ice I've ever seen anywhere. Unfortunately, it's underground, dangerous to access/climb and in Sweden. But the future of ice climbing in a warming world is for sure dark!
WG
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Climbing, Performance
After a long absence due to various injuries, I finally got out climbing on Sunday. We wanted to keep it simple, so we hiked from my house up Cougar Creek to the mixed area there. That's one of the things I feel I've done right in life (lots wrong too)--to live someplace where I can walk to winter and summer climbing. It's not "stellar," but it is climbing, and there's something satisfying about putting my boots on in my house and then walking to climbing. No big deal maybe, but I feel pretty lucky about that.
Anyhow, it was just nice to be out crunching through the snow with an armed pack on my back. SS and I have climbed together for years, and generally have if not fun at least some sort of rewarding experience when we go out. Actually, I can't think of one outing that wasn't fun. At the crag it was surprisingly cold--we were all excited about the supposed above-freezing temps, but it was windy and definitely tip-of-nose cold at the crag. The last time I'd climbed at this crag I'd been in really good shape; now I'm in decent all-around shape but not very good climbing shape. Scot led; I wanted to see how my collarbone and other injuries would do under load on a top-rope. He had a bit of a battle due to the cold. I definitely think we adapt to the cold; we were both laughing about how cold it felt and how "numb" we were. By the 10th trip or so of the winter I can deal with cold temps easily, but those first couple of trips are rough, and this was my first time out in the cold since Ouray, which wasn't cold...
I followed the pitch and was so awkward at first, moving like a dog on a skating rink. Then it started to flow a bit as I relaxed. I have a hard time rolling my shoulder from extended to locked off, but other than that it wasn't too bad. I got pumped stupid on a route I'd hiked on the on-sight last time, but the layers of cotton wool in my mind were almost gone by the top of the pitch, and I started to forget the nerves and just move (except when my shoulder creaked, that little bone is still moving around a bit). I was still cold and awkward, but there was a glimmer of climbing and not just scrabbling.
The sun finally came out, and suddenly we were moving more fluidly, warm, comfortable and just enjoying the day. That's what's so cool about climbing--it can go from absolutely brutal to sheer fun in moments, as well as the other way. We didn't climb all that much, but it sure was fun to be outside swinging and hooking tools, feeling the mountains, and doing what I really love to do. Yeah! May everyone get outside!
Performance:
I've been thinking a lot about what performance means, and come to the conclusion that a "good performance" in most outdoor sports means two things: First, a feeling you are doing the sport well for you. To put it another way, the act of doing the sport feels relatively inhibition free. You just do it. When you start and finish a section or an entire route and then suddenly remember that there's something else in life than what you're doing at the moment. This is internal. Second, there's the external measuring stick of time, grades, distance, what I call the "numeric" side of performance. When these two things are both "successful" then you're operating at a high performance level for you. If you do your local run in the evening and it feels really smooth and like you haven't had to try that hard but your time is two minutes faster then you've nailed it. If you go for a run and fight for every hill and your time is two minutes slower then you've had a low-performance day.
The final part of performance for me is then measuring my "numeric" performance with others. This is where it gets weird. If you're climbing 5.10 and then hike a 5.11 that's been giving you grief then you're a rock star in your own athletic world, and you've had a great performance. Drink a beer! But compared to Sonnie Trotter, well, you suck. Or do you? I suspect that if Sonnie were to have a battle on a 13a he would feel like he hadn't performed that well (or he'd laugh about it then send a 14a, he's Sonnie). Or maybe if a climber of Sonnie's caliber battled on an "easy" 14a redpoint he would be performing at a level that was incredibly high for most of the world, but might not be satisfying from a sheer performance perspective for him. But if he sends the hardest crack in the world his feelings about his performance might not be all that different from buddy who sent the 11a... There have been a few times where I've done something at the edge of the numeric envelope at the time. I had to try really hard, but when I did it I felt like it wasn't so hard. I had a good performance.
I think that we all mostly know when we've had a great performance, and when we haven't. I saw a great performance in Ouray when Will Mayo dropped one tool in the comp and then kept climbing for move after move. The crowd knew that it was a great performance. Same with Rich Marshall (I think Rich performed about the best of anyone in the comp--he doesn't have the power of the Euros, but he was performing very well). We've all been in the gym when some young kid or old punter does something that's clearly very cool--you can feel the psyche of a great performance, even if it's a V4 used as an easy warm up by the bad-asses.
It's something to think about--I often hear climbers (including me) bitch themselves out when they can't do a "lowly plastic V4! Damn, I suck!" No, they don't have the skills, or they aren't performing well at all. The more useful mental trick is to think, "Yep, my performance sucked. Why?" I've also seen climbers have magnificent performances and then deride the fact it took them so long or whatever. This strikes me as self-defeating and just wrong. They are letting an exterior numeric system define their performance, instead of looking at their own performance honestly. I think that, for me, the goal is to perform the best I can at whatever I'm doing. On good days when I'm well-trained that may be pretty high against the sport's numeric standards. But I actually performed pretty well in Cougar Creek by redpointing an m8 I'd onsighted easily... I'm not arguing for accepting lower standards, but for a realism in accepting and analyzing personal performance. If you're a world-class athlete like Sonnie, then focusing on your best personal performance may mean a new numeric standard. If you're a 5.9 climber who sends a multi-pitch 5.10 with no falls then that's every bit as cool as Sonnie's efforts, right on. If you're a 5.9 climber who falls off a 5.8 'cause you forgot to look at your feet then your performance sucked... Bottom line, if you want to get better or something then you've got to set higher performance standards and go after them. But I feel like I need to focus on the quality of my performance first, and the improvements will come as I get better at performing... There's the psychological idea of "dissonance," where your view of how the world should be doesn't meet what you're actually experiencing. If you really analyze and honestly figure out where your own performance is and was then there's less dissonance, and perhaps more chance to actually perform well in the long run. No one has a "right" to perform at a certain level, we get to a high level by developing our performances incrementally and with honest introspection. Starting to write like a new-age wanker so enough of that, we all need to shut up and perform. And recognize when we do, and do more of whatever led to that performance state...
WG
PS--and sorry to use Sonnie as an example, for some reason he just came into my mind as I writing this. I like his attitude, he is almost always psyched on climbing, both his and others. Hope you're performing well and having fun Sonnie!
Anyhow, it was just nice to be out crunching through the snow with an armed pack on my back. SS and I have climbed together for years, and generally have if not fun at least some sort of rewarding experience when we go out. Actually, I can't think of one outing that wasn't fun. At the crag it was surprisingly cold--we were all excited about the supposed above-freezing temps, but it was windy and definitely tip-of-nose cold at the crag. The last time I'd climbed at this crag I'd been in really good shape; now I'm in decent all-around shape but not very good climbing shape. Scot led; I wanted to see how my collarbone and other injuries would do under load on a top-rope. He had a bit of a battle due to the cold. I definitely think we adapt to the cold; we were both laughing about how cold it felt and how "numb" we were. By the 10th trip or so of the winter I can deal with cold temps easily, but those first couple of trips are rough, and this was my first time out in the cold since Ouray, which wasn't cold...
I followed the pitch and was so awkward at first, moving like a dog on a skating rink. Then it started to flow a bit as I relaxed. I have a hard time rolling my shoulder from extended to locked off, but other than that it wasn't too bad. I got pumped stupid on a route I'd hiked on the on-sight last time, but the layers of cotton wool in my mind were almost gone by the top of the pitch, and I started to forget the nerves and just move (except when my shoulder creaked, that little bone is still moving around a bit). I was still cold and awkward, but there was a glimmer of climbing and not just scrabbling.
The sun finally came out, and suddenly we were moving more fluidly, warm, comfortable and just enjoying the day. That's what's so cool about climbing--it can go from absolutely brutal to sheer fun in moments, as well as the other way. We didn't climb all that much, but it sure was fun to be outside swinging and hooking tools, feeling the mountains, and doing what I really love to do. Yeah! May everyone get outside!
Performance:
I've been thinking a lot about what performance means, and come to the conclusion that a "good performance" in most outdoor sports means two things: First, a feeling you are doing the sport well for you. To put it another way, the act of doing the sport feels relatively inhibition free. You just do it. When you start and finish a section or an entire route and then suddenly remember that there's something else in life than what you're doing at the moment. This is internal. Second, there's the external measuring stick of time, grades, distance, what I call the "numeric" side of performance. When these two things are both "successful" then you're operating at a high performance level for you. If you do your local run in the evening and it feels really smooth and like you haven't had to try that hard but your time is two minutes faster then you've nailed it. If you go for a run and fight for every hill and your time is two minutes slower then you've had a low-performance day.
The final part of performance for me is then measuring my "numeric" performance with others. This is where it gets weird. If you're climbing 5.10 and then hike a 5.11 that's been giving you grief then you're a rock star in your own athletic world, and you've had a great performance. Drink a beer! But compared to Sonnie Trotter, well, you suck. Or do you? I suspect that if Sonnie were to have a battle on a 13a he would feel like he hadn't performed that well (or he'd laugh about it then send a 14a, he's Sonnie). Or maybe if a climber of Sonnie's caliber battled on an "easy" 14a redpoint he would be performing at a level that was incredibly high for most of the world, but might not be satisfying from a sheer performance perspective for him. But if he sends the hardest crack in the world his feelings about his performance might not be all that different from buddy who sent the 11a... There have been a few times where I've done something at the edge of the numeric envelope at the time. I had to try really hard, but when I did it I felt like it wasn't so hard. I had a good performance.
I think that we all mostly know when we've had a great performance, and when we haven't. I saw a great performance in Ouray when Will Mayo dropped one tool in the comp and then kept climbing for move after move. The crowd knew that it was a great performance. Same with Rich Marshall (I think Rich performed about the best of anyone in the comp--he doesn't have the power of the Euros, but he was performing very well). We've all been in the gym when some young kid or old punter does something that's clearly very cool--you can feel the psyche of a great performance, even if it's a V4 used as an easy warm up by the bad-asses.
It's something to think about--I often hear climbers (including me) bitch themselves out when they can't do a "lowly plastic V4! Damn, I suck!" No, they don't have the skills, or they aren't performing well at all. The more useful mental trick is to think, "Yep, my performance sucked. Why?" I've also seen climbers have magnificent performances and then deride the fact it took them so long or whatever. This strikes me as self-defeating and just wrong. They are letting an exterior numeric system define their performance, instead of looking at their own performance honestly. I think that, for me, the goal is to perform the best I can at whatever I'm doing. On good days when I'm well-trained that may be pretty high against the sport's numeric standards. But I actually performed pretty well in Cougar Creek by redpointing an m8 I'd onsighted easily... I'm not arguing for accepting lower standards, but for a realism in accepting and analyzing personal performance. If you're a world-class athlete like Sonnie, then focusing on your best personal performance may mean a new numeric standard. If you're a 5.9 climber who sends a multi-pitch 5.10 with no falls then that's every bit as cool as Sonnie's efforts, right on. If you're a 5.9 climber who falls off a 5.8 'cause you forgot to look at your feet then your performance sucked... Bottom line, if you want to get better or something then you've got to set higher performance standards and go after them. But I feel like I need to focus on the quality of my performance first, and the improvements will come as I get better at performing... There's the psychological idea of "dissonance," where your view of how the world should be doesn't meet what you're actually experiencing. If you really analyze and honestly figure out where your own performance is and was then there's less dissonance, and perhaps more chance to actually perform well in the long run. No one has a "right" to perform at a certain level, we get to a high level by developing our performances incrementally and with honest introspection. Starting to write like a new-age wanker so enough of that, we all need to shut up and perform. And recognize when we do, and do more of whatever led to that performance state...
WG
PS--and sorry to use Sonnie as an example, for some reason he just came into my mind as I writing this. I like his attitude, he is almost always psyched on climbing, both his and others. Hope you're performing well and having fun Sonnie!
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Lying Airlines
I thought this article on CNN was pretty funny, as I had a "weather" delay for a Jan 17th flight out of Montrose, Colorado. I received a phone call at 8:00 the night before telling me my scheduled early morning flight was canceled due to "weather." The sky was clear, lots of stars, not too cold. While the United agent was on the phone looking for alternates for me I pulled the weather for Montrose: Mostly clear overnight, sunny in the morning. OK, maybe high winds aloft? Nope, all good there. Ah, freezing rain? No. I told the agent that and she insisted it was a weather delay. OK, maybe United has some sort of super-secret weather forecasting info. While the nice agent tried to rebook me and my family I kept surfing the web--there was absolutely no weather event within 1,000 miles that would preclude even a paraglider flight--no fog, no snow, no freezing rain, no thunderstorms, nada. I believe that the small planes that fly Montrose-Denver and back do just that and perhaps other short local trips; weather elsewhere in the flight system (like Chicago) doesn't seem likely to have been the problem. I was due to meet five other people and drive three hours in a van after my flight, so I wasn't happy when the agent told me I was now going to arrive six hours later--arriving in Mexico city past midnight for a scheduled van that left six hours earlier isn't a great plan with a family. I kept working with the friendly agent, who finally allowed that United could book me on other carriers "if available." I read her the weather forecasts with some laughter and we talked about flying, her husband was a pilot and she got where I was coming from. Eventually we were booked on another airline.
I woke up at 6:00 a.m to crystal clear starry skies. At the airport I asked a few people what was going on, and a maintenance sorta guy said, "Oh, the runway lights are having problems, but we can't say that 'cause then the airport has to pay for diverted flights and the airlines have to deal with their passengers." Hmmm.... I asked a baggage guy what was up and got the same answer. At the United counter (still had to deal with the tickets for 45 minutes) I got, "Weather" until I repeated the stories I had just heard. She then said, "Yeah, it's the runway lights, but we can't say that or we have to pay for hotels and stuff. We hope the part shows up soon." So the real deal was that the lights at the airport weren't working, which meant they couldn't fly the plane in late at night or early in the morning.
And the airlines wonder why people hate 'em? When you get flat-out lied to repeatedly it sorta makes you less than trusting, know what I mean? If United had said, "The runway lights are broken and we can't fly your plane here in the dark, so we've got to schedule you on a different flight" I would have been a little annoyed, but OK, United doesn't fix the runway lights, fair enough. But to get a lame excuse about weather just makes United look like not only liars but idiots--it's pretty bold to invoke bad weather when the sky is clear, a sort of Jedi mind trick, "No, really the weather is bad, that is not the sun..." Right.
I woke up at 6:00 a.m to crystal clear starry skies. At the airport I asked a few people what was going on, and a maintenance sorta guy said, "Oh, the runway lights are having problems, but we can't say that 'cause then the airport has to pay for diverted flights and the airlines have to deal with their passengers." Hmmm.... I asked a baggage guy what was up and got the same answer. At the United counter (still had to deal with the tickets for 45 minutes) I got, "Weather" until I repeated the stories I had just heard. She then said, "Yeah, it's the runway lights, but we can't say that or we have to pay for hotels and stuff. We hope the part shows up soon." So the real deal was that the lights at the airport weren't working, which meant they couldn't fly the plane in late at night or early in the morning.
And the airlines wonder why people hate 'em? When you get flat-out lied to repeatedly it sorta makes you less than trusting, know what I mean? If United had said, "The runway lights are broken and we can't fly your plane here in the dark, so we've got to schedule you on a different flight" I would have been a little annoyed, but OK, United doesn't fix the runway lights, fair enough. But to get a lame excuse about weather just makes United look like not only liars but idiots--it's pretty bold to invoke bad weather when the sky is clear, a sort of Jedi mind trick, "No, really the weather is bad, that is not the sun..." Right.
Competitive Yoga
Everybody makes New Year's resolutions. Given the number of minor but still debilitating injuries I've gone through in the last year my most "major" resolution was to try and do some form of stretching at least 150 days this year. That works out to about every other day, so it seemed like an achievable goal. I did Yoga about 50 percent of the days in November and December (modified due to a torn oblique), it was feeling good, but I wanted to feel "looser" and perhaps also prevent some of the soft (and not so soft) tissue injuries I've been having. I blame these injuries directly on getting older--I'm as motivated and fired up as ever, but my body just doesn't do as well with rapid sport switches and sudden random movements as it used to. I'd really noticed that my comfortable range of motion was decreasing; it stands to reason that a better range of motion in my muscles, and putting my body into weird positions more regularly, might result in fewer injuries or at least a more comfortable feeling.
I'm wired as tightly as an ostrich; I've always done some form of irregular and often injury-causing stretching over the years, but the reality is that my range of motion was still decreasing. Yoga helps fight my natural stiffness when I do it regularly, but Yoga can also be really damaging. Yoga instructors usually have no clue how to deal with competitive athletes or the male ego in their students. When I walk into a class and flop the mat down I'm just NOT there to get in touch with my inner chillness, I'm in there to bust a cap on my stiff ass, know what I mean? The problem with this attitude is that it results in "competitive yoga," which results in injuries. Touch my toes? Yeah, so I can't do that normally but the flabby-assed punter on the next mat is touching his head to his knee so I'll just try harder... Oops, that was the sound of hamstring ripping... Eventually I figured out that Yoga wasn't competitive, but I watch guys in classes do exactly what I've just described a lot. Yoga instructors should start their classes by saying, "If you're an athlete the next hour needs a mental adjustment. It's not like the weight room, where the goal is to lift the heaviest weight you can and try as hard as you can. If you use that approach today you WILL be injured, perhaps seriously. There are people in this room who can do what you will likely never be able to do unless you also practice Yoga regularly for years. So just work gently with your range of motion or you will be injured. A stretch should feel good, like yawning, not like a jack is forcing your body into a new position. Forcing your body in Yoga will only result in injuries, which will make you stiffer, not more flexible. Regular gentle practice will help you gain flexibility and strength through a range of motion, which may make you a better athlete. Going hard at Yoga once a week will only result in INJURY. So mellow out, do NOT push into pain, just practice regularly with a relaxed and smooth attitude and you might not get hurt. Guys, this means YOU. Clear?" Most Yoga instructors seem to think their students don't try hard enough, and will urge "Push into the position, relax into it, push a little farther" and similar rhetoric that any decent athlete will respond to with effort to the point of injury... It only took me three years and a lot of injuries to figure the above out, maybe you learned the lesson faster. I've done fits and bursts of Yoga for the last three years, it's still helped once I mellowed out a bit, but I don't think I'm seeing good gains because I wasn't regular about it. So 150 days of Yoga this year or bust!
It's day 42 of the year and I've hit the mat 22 days despite four weeks of travel of chaotic travel (travel is always chaotic, but add in an eight-month old, some competitions and some foreign countries and it's total chaos). I've done yoga in the business lounge of several airports, in the hallways of hotels early in the morning, and on a nasty tile floor in Mexico. I have a basic routine that takes 25 minutes at a bare minimum, and 45 if I work with it a bit. The first five minutes involve no "stretching," just moving through my range of motion and generating heat. That's another beef I have with most Yoga classes--you walk in from a -10 day and immediately start stretching while totally cold. Super-bendy young female yoga instructors just don't realize that for a lot of male athletes sitting cross-legged on the floor for five minutes IS a serious stretch, or that "gently bending forward and placing your hands toward the floor while contracting your inner Bunny" is a MAJOR stretch. I don't need to contemplate my navel in a painful position for five minutes at the beginning of a Yoga class, I need to get the blood moving... Yoga classes where I live are scheduled for people with regular schedules, which I don't have, so it's important that I do it on my own most of the time. I don't have to think much with my routine, just relax, feel the poses and the motions and do it. The results are slow but definitely there even after only a few months--I can touch my toes easily when I'm warmed up, and my messed up left hip has opened about an inch. I feel looser while climbing, and even just walking down the street. If you're under 30 and female that's probably less than impressive, but for a 40-year old high-mileage male athlete I'm digging it. I find my yoga days are also a little better mentally too, which is a bonus...
A half hour every other day of Yoga is achievable, we'll see what the results are at the end of the year. Because for me results count more than anything, the rest is just justification and excuses for non-performance. To quote Fugazi, "Function is the key." I want to function better.
I'm wired as tightly as an ostrich; I've always done some form of irregular and often injury-causing stretching over the years, but the reality is that my range of motion was still decreasing. Yoga helps fight my natural stiffness when I do it regularly, but Yoga can also be really damaging. Yoga instructors usually have no clue how to deal with competitive athletes or the male ego in their students. When I walk into a class and flop the mat down I'm just NOT there to get in touch with my inner chillness, I'm in there to bust a cap on my stiff ass, know what I mean? The problem with this attitude is that it results in "competitive yoga," which results in injuries. Touch my toes? Yeah, so I can't do that normally but the flabby-assed punter on the next mat is touching his head to his knee so I'll just try harder... Oops, that was the sound of hamstring ripping... Eventually I figured out that Yoga wasn't competitive, but I watch guys in classes do exactly what I've just described a lot. Yoga instructors should start their classes by saying, "If you're an athlete the next hour needs a mental adjustment. It's not like the weight room, where the goal is to lift the heaviest weight you can and try as hard as you can. If you use that approach today you WILL be injured, perhaps seriously. There are people in this room who can do what you will likely never be able to do unless you also practice Yoga regularly for years. So just work gently with your range of motion or you will be injured. A stretch should feel good, like yawning, not like a jack is forcing your body into a new position. Forcing your body in Yoga will only result in injuries, which will make you stiffer, not more flexible. Regular gentle practice will help you gain flexibility and strength through a range of motion, which may make you a better athlete. Going hard at Yoga once a week will only result in INJURY. So mellow out, do NOT push into pain, just practice regularly with a relaxed and smooth attitude and you might not get hurt. Guys, this means YOU. Clear?" Most Yoga instructors seem to think their students don't try hard enough, and will urge "Push into the position, relax into it, push a little farther" and similar rhetoric that any decent athlete will respond to with effort to the point of injury... It only took me three years and a lot of injuries to figure the above out, maybe you learned the lesson faster. I've done fits and bursts of Yoga for the last three years, it's still helped once I mellowed out a bit, but I don't think I'm seeing good gains because I wasn't regular about it. So 150 days of Yoga this year or bust!
It's day 42 of the year and I've hit the mat 22 days despite four weeks of travel of chaotic travel (travel is always chaotic, but add in an eight-month old, some competitions and some foreign countries and it's total chaos). I've done yoga in the business lounge of several airports, in the hallways of hotels early in the morning, and on a nasty tile floor in Mexico. I have a basic routine that takes 25 minutes at a bare minimum, and 45 if I work with it a bit. The first five minutes involve no "stretching," just moving through my range of motion and generating heat. That's another beef I have with most Yoga classes--you walk in from a -10 day and immediately start stretching while totally cold. Super-bendy young female yoga instructors just don't realize that for a lot of male athletes sitting cross-legged on the floor for five minutes IS a serious stretch, or that "gently bending forward and placing your hands toward the floor while contracting your inner Bunny" is a MAJOR stretch. I don't need to contemplate my navel in a painful position for five minutes at the beginning of a Yoga class, I need to get the blood moving... Yoga classes where I live are scheduled for people with regular schedules, which I don't have, so it's important that I do it on my own most of the time. I don't have to think much with my routine, just relax, feel the poses and the motions and do it. The results are slow but definitely there even after only a few months--I can touch my toes easily when I'm warmed up, and my messed up left hip has opened about an inch. I feel looser while climbing, and even just walking down the street. If you're under 30 and female that's probably less than impressive, but for a 40-year old high-mileage male athlete I'm digging it. I find my yoga days are also a little better mentally too, which is a bonus...
A half hour every other day of Yoga is achievable, we'll see what the results are at the end of the year. Because for me results count more than anything, the rest is just justification and excuses for non-performance. To quote Fugazi, "Function is the key." I want to function better.
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Travel, comps, good old gear
To those of you who have been giving me alternate loads of grief and writing inspiration, thanks. It's been a mad four weeks:
Ouray Ice Festival:
As always, incredibly fun, the social event of the year. Didn't compete due to a ripped stomach muscle, which was hard not to do, sure looked fun. Congrats to Jeff and Ines and everyone who pulled to the limit!
Monarca and Pre-Worlds Paragliding comps in Mex:
Tons of fun, 40+ hours of flying. I somehow managed to break the tip off my clavicle before the comps even started, but flew anyhow, a little pain focuses the mind. Or not. Thanks to the Arctic house for the good times. For anyone who hasn't flown in Valle De Bravo, go. It's stellar. Hopefully the local politics will be resolved soon, and be sure to join the local club if you visit.
I did learn a few more things about my own head in the two comps, mainly that I'm not interested in competing in paragliding comps with a 150 other pilots. I don't like flying so close to other people for hours, so I often just headed off on my own. I do not make a good herd animal, and PG comps require herd flying to win. I've won some comps, but those are generally comps where I just do what I feel like doing and the choices end up being correct enough to win. At a big comp with many high-level pilots and difficult conditions you need the herd. On the last day of the comp about 100 of us were climbing in a total cluster just after the start when I looked downwind on the course line and thought I could make the transition to the next bump. I KNEW that going was a bad idea from a comp perspective, but there was nobody on the bump... I did eventually get up there, but I should have waited and climbed with the herd to make it happen--if I were flying alone that's what I would have done (get higher), but I wanted out of the gaggle... When you're making bad decisions in a comp just to move away from the gaggle then you're not competing to win or do your very best. If you're not competing to win (or eventually win) then competition is meaningless, and in my opinion you're just taking up space. One day we had cloudbase at around 18,000 feet over a local volcano; I kept looking at that as I was flying back and forth along the course and thinking, "Why am I not there?" Flying up there might have been risky, but flying directly over a huge volcano would have been cool... I also find myself making poor decisions from a safety perspective during high-end comps; I went for one of the worst rotor rides of my life going to goal one day, just so I could beat a few pilots in. After the ride I still had the altitude to make goal, but that would have meant flying downwind at 80+K less than 100M over the ground. I landed rather than chance that. You have to have that, "WIN!" desire to pull moves like that (or be totally unaware), I don't think winning another comp is worth that sort of risk. I'll take big risks for what I believe is a big reward, but I'm not seeing winning comps as being worth the risks I (and that's just me, not everyone has the same attitude obviously) sometimes will take. A man's gotta know his limitations as someone once said.
Competition is the acid test for pilot skills and I like that and fully respect it, but part of that skill set is flying in big gaggles for hours. I've come to the realization that while I can do that, it's not why I fly a paraglider. I only get so much time every year to fly, and for me pushing the limits of the sport in more remote places is now a higher priority. Yeah! Sometimes in sports I realize what's actually important to me about the sport, and adjust how I approach it as a result. It always feels good, even if it's not an easy thing to admit at the time.
Good Gear:
Yesterday I took the kidlet and went on a savage aerobic burn session at the local Nordic centre. She loves riding in the backpack, and an extra 25 plus pounds on my back just adds to the load. At one point I looked down and noticed that my old "classic" skis were the same onces I used to race on in high school, so that makes them 20+ years old. They are Fischer SCS skis, red and white, with almost as ancient "race" bindings on them. That started me thinking between hills (can't think up the hills) about good gear I have that's really old and that I still use. There isn't much of it, but what I do have is kinda cool to me:
The Fischer SCS skis. I've used them for big backcountry tours in -25, raced on them, trained on them, and still going.
My Jrat neck gaiter. At least 20 years old, still works. It's flown over the Grand Canyon, climbed hundreds if not thousands of ice routes, and just done me right. Ugly enough that nobody wants to steal it. Jrat was an era.
A #9 Hex. Also 20+ years old, beat to shit, still hanging on the wall and occasionally gets an outing.
A cave bag: It was old when I bought it, and is 20 years older now. Some piece of junk US Army surplus, but still works, and gets out once a year or so.
I can't think of much else that I have that's 20 or more years old and still in semi-regular use (OK, my body, but that doesn't really count as I can't buy a new one); I've saved a few bits just to save them, but this is just the gear I truly still use. I keep thinking I'll get a new pair of nordic "classic" skis, but those skis still work just fine. I have the sweetest new backcountry setup going, but part of the cool thing here is that old nordic gear is still functional. And that's cool.
What else do other people have that's 20 years old or older and still going out into the hills regularly?
Ouray Ice Festival:
As always, incredibly fun, the social event of the year. Didn't compete due to a ripped stomach muscle, which was hard not to do, sure looked fun. Congrats to Jeff and Ines and everyone who pulled to the limit!
Monarca and Pre-Worlds Paragliding comps in Mex:
Tons of fun, 40+ hours of flying. I somehow managed to break the tip off my clavicle before the comps even started, but flew anyhow, a little pain focuses the mind. Or not. Thanks to the Arctic house for the good times. For anyone who hasn't flown in Valle De Bravo, go. It's stellar. Hopefully the local politics will be resolved soon, and be sure to join the local club if you visit.
I did learn a few more things about my own head in the two comps, mainly that I'm not interested in competing in paragliding comps with a 150 other pilots. I don't like flying so close to other people for hours, so I often just headed off on my own. I do not make a good herd animal, and PG comps require herd flying to win. I've won some comps, but those are generally comps where I just do what I feel like doing and the choices end up being correct enough to win. At a big comp with many high-level pilots and difficult conditions you need the herd. On the last day of the comp about 100 of us were climbing in a total cluster just after the start when I looked downwind on the course line and thought I could make the transition to the next bump. I KNEW that going was a bad idea from a comp perspective, but there was nobody on the bump... I did eventually get up there, but I should have waited and climbed with the herd to make it happen--if I were flying alone that's what I would have done (get higher), but I wanted out of the gaggle... When you're making bad decisions in a comp just to move away from the gaggle then you're not competing to win or do your very best. If you're not competing to win (or eventually win) then competition is meaningless, and in my opinion you're just taking up space. One day we had cloudbase at around 18,000 feet over a local volcano; I kept looking at that as I was flying back and forth along the course and thinking, "Why am I not there?" Flying up there might have been risky, but flying directly over a huge volcano would have been cool... I also find myself making poor decisions from a safety perspective during high-end comps; I went for one of the worst rotor rides of my life going to goal one day, just so I could beat a few pilots in. After the ride I still had the altitude to make goal, but that would have meant flying downwind at 80+K less than 100M over the ground. I landed rather than chance that. You have to have that, "WIN!" desire to pull moves like that (or be totally unaware), I don't think winning another comp is worth that sort of risk. I'll take big risks for what I believe is a big reward, but I'm not seeing winning comps as being worth the risks I (and that's just me, not everyone has the same attitude obviously) sometimes will take. A man's gotta know his limitations as someone once said.
Competition is the acid test for pilot skills and I like that and fully respect it, but part of that skill set is flying in big gaggles for hours. I've come to the realization that while I can do that, it's not why I fly a paraglider. I only get so much time every year to fly, and for me pushing the limits of the sport in more remote places is now a higher priority. Yeah! Sometimes in sports I realize what's actually important to me about the sport, and adjust how I approach it as a result. It always feels good, even if it's not an easy thing to admit at the time.
Good Gear:
Yesterday I took the kidlet and went on a savage aerobic burn session at the local Nordic centre. She loves riding in the backpack, and an extra 25 plus pounds on my back just adds to the load. At one point I looked down and noticed that my old "classic" skis were the same onces I used to race on in high school, so that makes them 20+ years old. They are Fischer SCS skis, red and white, with almost as ancient "race" bindings on them. That started me thinking between hills (can't think up the hills) about good gear I have that's really old and that I still use. There isn't much of it, but what I do have is kinda cool to me:
The Fischer SCS skis. I've used them for big backcountry tours in -25, raced on them, trained on them, and still going.
My Jrat neck gaiter. At least 20 years old, still works. It's flown over the Grand Canyon, climbed hundreds if not thousands of ice routes, and just done me right. Ugly enough that nobody wants to steal it. Jrat was an era.
A #9 Hex. Also 20+ years old, beat to shit, still hanging on the wall and occasionally gets an outing.
A cave bag: It was old when I bought it, and is 20 years older now. Some piece of junk US Army surplus, but still works, and gets out once a year or so.
I can't think of much else that I have that's 20 or more years old and still in semi-regular use (OK, my body, but that doesn't really count as I can't buy a new one); I've saved a few bits just to save them, but this is just the gear I truly still use. I keep thinking I'll get a new pair of nordic "classic" skis, but those skis still work just fine. I have the sweetest new backcountry setup going, but part of the cool thing here is that old nordic gear is still functional. And that's cool.
What else do other people have that's 20 years old or older and still going out into the hills regularly?
Saturday, December 22, 2007
The Spot, and Happy Solstice
This is interesting...
I think I'm going to order one and check it out, could be really good for paragliding in remote areas, backcountry skiing, etc. I'm a firm believer in doing my absolute best to self-rescue, but sometimes it's not going to work out. A satellite text message could be just the trick, and a lot simpler and lighter than a satellite phone for sure. In the Canadian Rockies we don't normally have cell phone coverage, this could be just the ticket. The same service is used to track shipping containers and other cargo, it works well for that, although Globalstar phone service is reportedly imploding.
And a big, Happy Solstice! This is the darkest day of the year, from here on out we're all (those of us in the North anyhow) going to find a little more light in our lives, yeah! Most cultures in the northern hemisphere have a huge party around this time of year, some sort of "festival of lights" to mark the fact that the days are finally growing in length and the nights shrinking--hence all the lights on houses, trees, etc. Christmas is great and all, but all the commercialism makes it a bit difficult for me to get very fired up about. I'm also unimpressed with the whole god/supernatural/psychic thing, but more light is a great thing for sure! Less headlamp juice required from here on out for all our adventures.
I think I'm going to order one and check it out, could be really good for paragliding in remote areas, backcountry skiing, etc. I'm a firm believer in doing my absolute best to self-rescue, but sometimes it's not going to work out. A satellite text message could be just the trick, and a lot simpler and lighter than a satellite phone for sure. In the Canadian Rockies we don't normally have cell phone coverage, this could be just the ticket. The same service is used to track shipping containers and other cargo, it works well for that, although Globalstar phone service is reportedly imploding.
And a big, Happy Solstice! This is the darkest day of the year, from here on out we're all (those of us in the North anyhow) going to find a little more light in our lives, yeah! Most cultures in the northern hemisphere have a huge party around this time of year, some sort of "festival of lights" to mark the fact that the days are finally growing in length and the nights shrinking--hence all the lights on houses, trees, etc. Christmas is great and all, but all the commercialism makes it a bit difficult for me to get very fired up about. I'm also unimpressed with the whole god/supernatural/psychic thing, but more light is a great thing for sure! Less headlamp juice required from here on out for all our adventures.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Outdoor junkies and tech
A comment on my recent anti-PDF screed (and I still hate 'em as they're designed around using paper) got me thinking. The question was, "Does anyone else find it amusing that a PDF topic has generated so many comments on a blog dedicated to outdoor fun & adventure? Are all outdoorsy people really just closet tech nerds?!?!"
I don't know about all outdoorsy people being tech nerds, but I am willing to bet a dual-layer DVD of my recent films that most of us are pretty into our tech, be it analog (cams, shoes, packs, tents) or digital. Most of my garage is devoted not to storing cars but more important stuff--gear. Most of my office is laden not with printed PDFs but with scanners, a dozen or so hard drives, two computers, a printer (which doesn't get much use), editing gear, cameras, GPS units, radio bits, etc. Who among us "outdoorsy" types doesn't have at least a half-dozen weather forecasts bookmarked? Plus various road condition reports, blogs, outdoor forums (for several sports), and of course five or six mailboxes devoted to upcoming trips? Plus various folders on our hard drives devoted to the same, and maybe a map program or four...
Paragliding is even worse than climbing; GPS programs, flight analysis software, digital aviation maps, etc. The truly nerdy paraglider or hang glider pilots will have a minimum of two GPS units plus two flight computers, which they fly with and then download and geek out for hours before uploading the tracks to various forums where other pilots geek out on tracks for hours... I'm sure I'm missing some stuff here but gear, be it analog or digital, is for sure a HUGE part of the outdoor game. The phrase "gear junkie" no longer applies to just outdoor gear from footwear (who among us doesn't have far more outdoor footwear than "dress" footwear?) to tents but also our digital bits.
I also suspect there are a lot of "tech" types who are outdoor junkies of one kind or another. It's certainly true in paragliding, where the stereotypical pilot is an IT guy living in a major west-coast city. Some of the responses to my, "F the PDF" post were very solid from a tech perspective (as well as grammar, sorry about that, this stuff gets written straight off the top of my head--which is likely obvious to anyone who works with words professionally). There are likely still outdoorsy people who don't spend a good chunk of each day in front of a monitor, but they're not the sort likely to post comments on a blog.
So get your tech on, yeah!
PS--someone just emailed me to explain that PDF really stands for, "Print this Damn thing and Fax back." Yep, PDFs sure are great for two-way communication in the digital age. I think I'm going to set my email up to just flat-our reject any email with a .pdf attachment along with a message that says, "You recently sent me a PDF. This shows that you really don't want a response from me, nor do you want me to be able to actually work with the data. I'm going to save us both some hassle and just ignore it."
PPS--my travel agent just sent me an itinerary in, yep, PDF format. It's a five-page document that's near-useless, although it has very nice proportions and scales well (full sarcasm). This isn't two-way communication, but it also doesn't work as I can't drop the info into my calendar, phone, etc. I think I was sort of used to the hassle of PDFs before but all this discussion has made me realize just exactly how retro and bass-ackwards they are for just about anything.
I don't know about all outdoorsy people being tech nerds, but I am willing to bet a dual-layer DVD of my recent films that most of us are pretty into our tech, be it analog (cams, shoes, packs, tents) or digital. Most of my garage is devoted not to storing cars but more important stuff--gear. Most of my office is laden not with printed PDFs but with scanners, a dozen or so hard drives, two computers, a printer (which doesn't get much use), editing gear, cameras, GPS units, radio bits, etc. Who among us "outdoorsy" types doesn't have at least a half-dozen weather forecasts bookmarked? Plus various road condition reports, blogs, outdoor forums (for several sports), and of course five or six mailboxes devoted to upcoming trips? Plus various folders on our hard drives devoted to the same, and maybe a map program or four...
Paragliding is even worse than climbing; GPS programs, flight analysis software, digital aviation maps, etc. The truly nerdy paraglider or hang glider pilots will have a minimum of two GPS units plus two flight computers, which they fly with and then download and geek out for hours before uploading the tracks to various forums where other pilots geek out on tracks for hours... I'm sure I'm missing some stuff here but gear, be it analog or digital, is for sure a HUGE part of the outdoor game. The phrase "gear junkie" no longer applies to just outdoor gear from footwear (who among us doesn't have far more outdoor footwear than "dress" footwear?) to tents but also our digital bits.
I also suspect there are a lot of "tech" types who are outdoor junkies of one kind or another. It's certainly true in paragliding, where the stereotypical pilot is an IT guy living in a major west-coast city. Some of the responses to my, "F the PDF" post were very solid from a tech perspective (as well as grammar, sorry about that, this stuff gets written straight off the top of my head--which is likely obvious to anyone who works with words professionally). There are likely still outdoorsy people who don't spend a good chunk of each day in front of a monitor, but they're not the sort likely to post comments on a blog.
So get your tech on, yeah!
PS--someone just emailed me to explain that PDF really stands for, "Print this Damn thing and Fax back." Yep, PDFs sure are great for two-way communication in the digital age. I think I'm going to set my email up to just flat-our reject any email with a .pdf attachment along with a message that says, "You recently sent me a PDF. This shows that you really don't want a response from me, nor do you want me to be able to actually work with the data. I'm going to save us both some hassle and just ignore it."
PPS--my travel agent just sent me an itinerary in, yep, PDF format. It's a five-page document that's near-useless, although it has very nice proportions and scales well (full sarcasm). This isn't two-way communication, but it also doesn't work as I can't drop the info into my calendar, phone, etc. I think I was sort of used to the hassle of PDFs before but all this discussion has made me realize just exactly how retro and bass-ackwards they are for just about anything.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
PDFs and Film Festivals
Whoever invented the PDF file format should be sent to the same sort of hell reserved for whoever took the auto-fill thingamabob off of gas pumps. In this hell, Mr. PDF and Mr. "Stand there and pump gas instead of doing something useful like checking the oil" will argue endlessly about exactly who has wasted more of modern humanity's time--while the guy who invented internet blogs looks on. Here's why:
I send a lot of films out to mountain film festivals, of which there are now hundreds. I receive three or four emails a week asking for my films, which is a really nice compliment in a way, and I usually take the time to send each one a DVD. Unfortunately, most film festival entry forms now require either a convoluted on-line system (total waste of time, usually resets on page 7 of 11) or PDF documents, which are the single greatest waste of time, paper and energy ever invented. PDFs must be good for something, but they are totally worthless as a form of two-way communication in the digital age. You can't fill them out electronically--unless you pay extra for some sort of Adobe secret de-coder ring to open 'em up and actually work with them, instead of just admire the pretty layout some frustrated art-school dropout produced.
I hate it every time I see that file extension on a document; unless it's really important, like a film festival entry form, I'll usually just ignore it. In fact, I've started ignoring even film festival PDFs and just sending back a plain email with the info they want. Seems to work, who would have thought?
Anyone who sends someone else a PDF is obviously either plain clueless or actively dislikes the recipient, perhaps both. The sender is asking the recipient to print it, fill it out by hand (anyone who has seen my writing knows that this is a further waste of time as far as any actual communication goes) and then scan it and email it or fax it back. Twenty years ago this process would have seemed kinda high tech and cool; now it's like a brick-sized cell phone or a voicemail instead of a text: a total waste of time. Lawyers also seem to love PDFs; "Here's a 27-page contract, mind finding a printer while in some no-star budget hotel and faxing that back tonight? We know we've got you by the short hairs on this one, so don't even try to use something modern like a digital signature." Send me a Word document, a text file, a simple email with questions, an "Open Office" form, a Keynote form, even an ancient Quark file and I'll fill it out. But the next person who sends me a PDF? I'm going to do what my mother used to do with those "postage guaranteed" solicitation forms: attach a brick to it and send it back "postage due."
PDFs suck, BAN THE PDF! PDF stands for, "Pretty Damn Fecking Useless," they just forgot the U.
In other news, climbing sure has been fun lately. Fully analog, all physical, no computers, no PDFs, what a great sport. I had so much fun yesterday I ripped a stomach muscle, so today I can't really sit up. Kinda cool to have a new injury. On the left side of my body I have the following problems: Elbow tendinitis, jacked knee, strained oblique, infected cut from the Whistler rock gym's hand crack, and a some sort of pustilence where a spider bit me. I'm really not making this up; my right side is totally fine, but my left side appears to be about age 75 right now. Which is why I'm surly and writing about PDFs. I hope your day was PDF-free and outside.
I send a lot of films out to mountain film festivals, of which there are now hundreds. I receive three or four emails a week asking for my films, which is a really nice compliment in a way, and I usually take the time to send each one a DVD. Unfortunately, most film festival entry forms now require either a convoluted on-line system (total waste of time, usually resets on page 7 of 11) or PDF documents, which are the single greatest waste of time, paper and energy ever invented. PDFs must be good for something, but they are totally worthless as a form of two-way communication in the digital age. You can't fill them out electronically--unless you pay extra for some sort of Adobe secret de-coder ring to open 'em up and actually work with them, instead of just admire the pretty layout some frustrated art-school dropout produced.
I hate it every time I see that file extension on a document; unless it's really important, like a film festival entry form, I'll usually just ignore it. In fact, I've started ignoring even film festival PDFs and just sending back a plain email with the info they want. Seems to work, who would have thought?
Anyone who sends someone else a PDF is obviously either plain clueless or actively dislikes the recipient, perhaps both. The sender is asking the recipient to print it, fill it out by hand (anyone who has seen my writing knows that this is a further waste of time as far as any actual communication goes) and then scan it and email it or fax it back. Twenty years ago this process would have seemed kinda high tech and cool; now it's like a brick-sized cell phone or a voicemail instead of a text: a total waste of time. Lawyers also seem to love PDFs; "Here's a 27-page contract, mind finding a printer while in some no-star budget hotel and faxing that back tonight? We know we've got you by the short hairs on this one, so don't even try to use something modern like a digital signature." Send me a Word document, a text file, a simple email with questions, an "Open Office" form, a Keynote form, even an ancient Quark file and I'll fill it out. But the next person who sends me a PDF? I'm going to do what my mother used to do with those "postage guaranteed" solicitation forms: attach a brick to it and send it back "postage due."
PDFs suck, BAN THE PDF! PDF stands for, "Pretty Damn Fecking Useless," they just forgot the U.
In other news, climbing sure has been fun lately. Fully analog, all physical, no computers, no PDFs, what a great sport. I had so much fun yesterday I ripped a stomach muscle, so today I can't really sit up. Kinda cool to have a new injury. On the left side of my body I have the following problems: Elbow tendinitis, jacked knee, strained oblique, infected cut from the Whistler rock gym's hand crack, and a some sort of pustilence where a spider bit me. I'm really not making this up; my right side is totally fine, but my left side appears to be about age 75 right now. Which is why I'm surly and writing about PDFs. I hope your day was PDF-free and outside.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Haffner Mixed
Haffner is a small canyon near my home. Really small-about 40 feet high, but with at least 20 mixed routes worth doing. I've been hitting it for almost ten years; it's close, has a lot of fun routes, it's close, etc...
Yesterday was my first time in there for a long time. Last year I didn't climb much between the fall rock season and the spring ice season as my elbow was tweaked; no new mixed routes, no 50 days or more of scrabbling on the rock and dangling icicles I so love. Yesterday reminded me of exactly why I love mixed climbing. It's brutal, aggressive, mental, tenuous, annoying, satisfying and downright engaging. No other form of climbing combines so much emotional response in such a short period of time for me. I've done some more alpine climbing this fall, and love that too, but mixed climbing just distills all that I like about climbing into one rope length of giving it.
It's so hard at first; every season I'm definitely a novice for the first few climbs. I don't trust my tools, get super pumped on "easy" terrain, my feet blow and it takes everything I have to not melt down into a quivering pile of mental mush. Then it gets a bit better by the second or third pitch, and usually by the end of the first day I forget about all the mechanics at least for a few moves and simply climb. I find mixed climbing requires a much stronger mind than rock climbing, at least for me. On rock I just climb, but on mixed I've got to get through this mental barrier before I can truly move. I've got to get over the fear of the tools, rock, my feet don't work naturally. But when I finally get that mental boulder off my shoulders it just feels so good...
Then there's just being outside in winter. We had to break trail up to the Haffner Cave, which was a bit arduous for me as I tweaked my knee kite-skiing the other day (not a good idea to launch big when you don't really know what you're doing). I always like hiking through that burned but still standing stark black forest, watching the big peaks, and just being out there with friends. I can get the same experience ski touring in a way, but ski touring doesn't have the same mental "ambush" for me as mixed climbing. I know I can ski, I'm never sure I can mixed climb, and often can't until things get moving again... All climbing is mental, but mixed climbing is definitely more mental than any other form of climbing for me.
Yesterday I flailed on routes I used to do laps on with a weight belt. But by my last go I was linking big sections, and climbing with the pump instead of pumping out instantly. My hands were suddenly warm and my body relaxed instead of frozen and tight. I'm back on the curve, and can't wait for tomorrow, when we'll do it all again. Game on
As always, there's no point to this but damn is mixed climbing fun! I hope everyone is getting out...
Yesterday was my first time in there for a long time. Last year I didn't climb much between the fall rock season and the spring ice season as my elbow was tweaked; no new mixed routes, no 50 days or more of scrabbling on the rock and dangling icicles I so love. Yesterday reminded me of exactly why I love mixed climbing. It's brutal, aggressive, mental, tenuous, annoying, satisfying and downright engaging. No other form of climbing combines so much emotional response in such a short period of time for me. I've done some more alpine climbing this fall, and love that too, but mixed climbing just distills all that I like about climbing into one rope length of giving it.
It's so hard at first; every season I'm definitely a novice for the first few climbs. I don't trust my tools, get super pumped on "easy" terrain, my feet blow and it takes everything I have to not melt down into a quivering pile of mental mush. Then it gets a bit better by the second or third pitch, and usually by the end of the first day I forget about all the mechanics at least for a few moves and simply climb. I find mixed climbing requires a much stronger mind than rock climbing, at least for me. On rock I just climb, but on mixed I've got to get through this mental barrier before I can truly move. I've got to get over the fear of the tools, rock, my feet don't work naturally. But when I finally get that mental boulder off my shoulders it just feels so good...
Then there's just being outside in winter. We had to break trail up to the Haffner Cave, which was a bit arduous for me as I tweaked my knee kite-skiing the other day (not a good idea to launch big when you don't really know what you're doing). I always like hiking through that burned but still standing stark black forest, watching the big peaks, and just being out there with friends. I can get the same experience ski touring in a way, but ski touring doesn't have the same mental "ambush" for me as mixed climbing. I know I can ski, I'm never sure I can mixed climb, and often can't until things get moving again... All climbing is mental, but mixed climbing is definitely more mental than any other form of climbing for me.
Yesterday I flailed on routes I used to do laps on with a weight belt. But by my last go I was linking big sections, and climbing with the pump instead of pumping out instantly. My hands were suddenly warm and my body relaxed instead of frozen and tight. I'm back on the curve, and can't wait for tomorrow, when we'll do it all again. Game on
As always, there's no point to this but damn is mixed climbing fun! I hope everyone is getting out...
Friday, December 07, 2007
MEC pulls Nalgene Bottles
About a month ago I got rid of my epic collection of hard plastic Nalgene bottles. I'd read enough stories suggesting that they likely weren't all that good for me or my family. MEC just did the same thing...
The risk of developing fatal cancer (or breasts or whatever) from these bottles is probably pretty low. But we've got so many "minor" nasty things in our environment today that I'm trying to cut out the "easy" potential problems such as these bottles.
We're all obviously gonna die, I'd just prefer to die while reasonably healthy and from something other than a lingering nasty health issue if I can...
A few other links:
Utah Story
Blog story, good
Wiki article If babies can reach 13 µg/kg/day, and research in mice suggests exposure of 0.025µg/kg/day can cause serious issues (see article), well, I don't think I wanna be drinking out of these bottles when there are good alternatives...
The risk of developing fatal cancer (or breasts or whatever) from these bottles is probably pretty low. But we've got so many "minor" nasty things in our environment today that I'm trying to cut out the "easy" potential problems such as these bottles.
We're all obviously gonna die, I'd just prefer to die while reasonably healthy and from something other than a lingering nasty health issue if I can...
A few other links:
Utah Story
Blog story, good
Wiki article If babies can reach 13 µg/kg/day, and research in mice suggests exposure of 0.025µg/kg/day can cause serious issues (see article), well, I don't think I wanna be drinking out of these bottles when there are good alternatives...
Monday, December 03, 2007
Snow Tires, Slideshows and Subarus
I've just spent two full days trying to drive from Whistler back home to Canmore. Road conditions have been abysmal--ice, snow, freezing rain, truly the worst roads I've seen in years. We left Whistler reasonably early yesterday after the Mountaineer's Soiree the night before (thanks to the organizers and crowd, good fun!), only to encounter crawling traffic on the Sea to Sky. No big deal, just slow, avoid the accidents waiting to happen. In Vancouver the roads were OK, just wet and a bit slushy, but by about Langley we were back to crawl mode with people orbiting off into the ditches regularly. I was feeling pretty good about the Subaru and the four new studded snow tires I'd just picked up in Portland on the way home from England and Scotland--studded snow tires seem like overkill until you're driving for hours and hours on ice and snow... Finally stopped in Kamloops after 11 hours (about a six hour drive normally) figuring that the roads would get better in the morning, and they were initially this morning. Then it was back to rut surfing and powder driving, which is a lot like powder skiing somehow. I was feeling pretty confident with the Subaru and the good tires despite the poor conditions, but you can only drive as fast as the other traffic really... After waiting for an hour outside of Revelstoke for avi control we got back at it, pounding through increasingly rutted roads. I was passing occasionally when I could see well enough, but not driving flat-out in the poor conditions. After a while I noticed a couple of white vans keeping pace with me, and eventually working up until they were behind me. Not surprisingly, I recognized the vans as belonging to the Canadian National Nordic team. Nordic teams have a long history of all-out winter driving--motivated coaches, skiers and a lot of experience on bad roads. My windshield wipers started dying, and I was passed by a white van then two. It happens. I'd been passed a few times on the drive, often by a yahoo with bad control of his vehicle. The National Team passed me with style and solidity, so right on--I'd put the Canadian Ski Team drivers up against anyone else in the world, may their athletes do as well this year!
By Golden we had been on the road for another six hours for a three-hour drive. The Trans-Can was closed over to Lake Louise, so we started toward Radium. About 1oK out of Radium we came over a hill to see green a car sideways in our lane at the bottom of the hill. The temperature gauge had been spiking, from -8C in Golden to +4C, and it had started to actually rain, all in less than 15 minutes. I had tested the traction a couple of times since Golden, and it had been good. But with the rain and rapid temperature rise the brakes did very little... It was like a skating rink with a layer of water on it. Even with the new tires and studs we barely had enough traction to slow down. The money spent on the tires suddenly seemed like a really, really good investment. Studs kick ass on any studless tire, I've tried a few and they all suck in comparison.
It was pretty clear that Mr. Green Car was going to get pasted by the next vehicle to come along, so I pulled up behind and asked the driver if he wanted a push. The camber of the road was enough to keep him from starting again, that's how slick it was. A brief push with the bumper was all it took to get him moving again. At this point my adult passenger fully lost it, she'd had enough. Fair enough, it was horrendous. It was back to Golden, where we are now. All the roads out of Golden are closed, it's raining pretty hard on the snowpack, things are going to get wild up high and on the roads tonight. We hope to make it home to Canmore tomorrow, two and a half days after leaving Whistler. This should normally be a one-day drive.
Winter driving sure is fun!
By Golden we had been on the road for another six hours for a three-hour drive. The Trans-Can was closed over to Lake Louise, so we started toward Radium. About 1oK out of Radium we came over a hill to see green a car sideways in our lane at the bottom of the hill. The temperature gauge had been spiking, from -8C in Golden to +4C, and it had started to actually rain, all in less than 15 minutes. I had tested the traction a couple of times since Golden, and it had been good. But with the rain and rapid temperature rise the brakes did very little... It was like a skating rink with a layer of water on it. Even with the new tires and studs we barely had enough traction to slow down. The money spent on the tires suddenly seemed like a really, really good investment. Studs kick ass on any studless tire, I've tried a few and they all suck in comparison.
It was pretty clear that Mr. Green Car was going to get pasted by the next vehicle to come along, so I pulled up behind and asked the driver if he wanted a push. The camber of the road was enough to keep him from starting again, that's how slick it was. A brief push with the bumper was all it took to get him moving again. At this point my adult passenger fully lost it, she'd had enough. Fair enough, it was horrendous. It was back to Golden, where we are now. All the roads out of Golden are closed, it's raining pretty hard on the snowpack, things are going to get wild up high and on the roads tonight. We hope to make it home to Canmore tomorrow, two and a half days after leaving Whistler. This should normally be a one-day drive.
Winter driving sure is fun!
Friday, November 23, 2007
Food
A good friend recently sent me a few links about nutrition for sport. He's all fired up on this idea of counting "blocks" of carbs, protein and fat. I wrote the following back to him, then thought it was kinda interesting so here it is...
Don't worry too much about what you eat, but eat simple foods when given a choice. Train hard. Drink water like a drunkard. Drink alcohol in moderation. Direct your mental energy toward performance, not worrying about how many blocks of whatever you eat. I think one of all-time classic training errors is to worry about things that you don't need to, especially food. Your body will respond to hard training and sports as it needs to. When I run a lot I get skinny. When I paddle my kayak or fly a lot I get relatively heavy. I travel a lot and don't always have "perfect" food available, but if I make the "best" choice on the menu it's OK in the long run.
During competition food intake needs to be a slightly more organized as the stress of competing or performing can result in low energy levels, but the rest of the time simply eating good solid food and training hard will produce the body type you need for the sport you do. I would wager that the most successful athletes in the world spend far more time and energy thinking about how to perform and compete than how many scoops of cereal they eat for breakfast, especially in the sports we do. I have trained with some of the best climbers, kayakers and distance athletes on the planet. They did not measure their food. I've also trained with some of the most ripped, fit looking individuals on the planet, yet these same individuals don't win, and don't perform at the highest levels in their sports. The best athletes I've ever trained with worry first and foremost about getting their training done so that it leads to success, and how to organize their lives so they have the best possible chance at success. Food is an important but ultimately relatively minor part of that equation.
Sharma is not counting how many fucking corn flakes he eats. Sharma is kicking ass. Tiger Woods is not counting how many caviar crackers he eats. Tiger Woods is kicking ass. My sport climbing results improved dramatically when I stopped worrying so much about what I ate and started focusing more on how to be a better climber. It's always tempting to focus on things that are relatively easy to control such as food intake, rather than the more complicated but more important "real" goal: performance. Form follows function, focus on the function and kick ass. Eat when hungry. Don't eat when not hungry. Get up from the table feeling slightly less than full and you'll get skinnier. Get up from the table feeling stuffed and you'll likely get fatter. Your body is a finely tuned machine for doing what you want. Don't fuck with it or it will get confused.
When the emphasis on food goes from "I need fuel and enough of it train hard" to, "What does the diet plan say I need?" then things are going to go wrong. If you bonk on a long ski tour and then get back to the car and chow down an entire pizza you've blown it. You should have eaten the pizza before and during the long ski tour, no matter what the current diet rage says.
If you're truly fat and that fat is hindering your performance I'd argue that you're not training well and that you're using food as something other than fuel. Focus on how to change that equation...
-----------------
This is aimed at outdoor sports athletes.
Don't worry too much about what you eat, but eat simple foods when given a choice. Train hard. Drink water like a drunkard. Drink alcohol in moderation. Direct your mental energy toward performance, not worrying about how many blocks of whatever you eat. I think one of all-time classic training errors is to worry about things that you don't need to, especially food. Your body will respond to hard training and sports as it needs to. When I run a lot I get skinny. When I paddle my kayak or fly a lot I get relatively heavy. I travel a lot and don't always have "perfect" food available, but if I make the "best" choice on the menu it's OK in the long run.
During competition food intake needs to be a slightly more organized as the stress of competing or performing can result in low energy levels, but the rest of the time simply eating good solid food and training hard will produce the body type you need for the sport you do. I would wager that the most successful athletes in the world spend far more time and energy thinking about how to perform and compete than how many scoops of cereal they eat for breakfast, especially in the sports we do. I have trained with some of the best climbers, kayakers and distance athletes on the planet. They did not measure their food. I've also trained with some of the most ripped, fit looking individuals on the planet, yet these same individuals don't win, and don't perform at the highest levels in their sports. The best athletes I've ever trained with worry first and foremost about getting their training done so that it leads to success, and how to organize their lives so they have the best possible chance at success. Food is an important but ultimately relatively minor part of that equation.
Sharma is not counting how many fucking corn flakes he eats. Sharma is kicking ass. Tiger Woods is not counting how many caviar crackers he eats. Tiger Woods is kicking ass. My sport climbing results improved dramatically when I stopped worrying so much about what I ate and started focusing more on how to be a better climber. It's always tempting to focus on things that are relatively easy to control such as food intake, rather than the more complicated but more important "real" goal: performance. Form follows function, focus on the function and kick ass. Eat when hungry. Don't eat when not hungry. Get up from the table feeling slightly less than full and you'll get skinnier. Get up from the table feeling stuffed and you'll likely get fatter. Your body is a finely tuned machine for doing what you want. Don't fuck with it or it will get confused.
When the emphasis on food goes from "I need fuel and enough of it train hard" to, "What does the diet plan say I need?" then things are going to go wrong. If you bonk on a long ski tour and then get back to the car and chow down an entire pizza you've blown it. You should have eaten the pizza before and during the long ski tour, no matter what the current diet rage says.
If you're truly fat and that fat is hindering your performance I'd argue that you're not training well and that you're using food as something other than fuel. Focus on how to change that equation...
-----------------
This is aimed at outdoor sports athletes.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Kendal Mountain Film Festival
I'm over at the Kendal Mountain Film Festival, in Northern England. It's about as English as English gets in my mind. We went out for a hike the other day and walked through green fields filled with sheep, rock walls, rolling hills, little stone houses, older couples in gum boots out walking up hills in the mud and so on before retiring to the pub to sink a few pints.
I think any English-speaking person likely has some sort of mental image of Britain. This small collection of islands exerted a huge influence on me, from nursery rhymes to the Magna Carta to Wordsworth poems. I keep looking out the window at the rain, sheep and all other stuff I just mentioned and feeling that I have seen it all somewhere before, and that it is more familiar than my few brief trips here should make the view. The Kendal Film Festival is definitely an British production,with a full collection of English, Scottish, Irish and even Welsh film makers--somehow this too makes sense, all the accents swirling in a pub. I'm on the jury and sworn to secrecy on that, but I am really enjoying this festival. When I get old I'm going to do nothing but tour around to film festivals. Wait, I'm already sort of doing that, Dundee is next week!
Seriously, this is a fantastic event and worth planning a trip around. The sun even shone for two days, unfortunately I was locked in a basement and unable to see it. Now that we're done judging the sun is hidden behind a layer of clouds and rain that even has the locals commenting on the poor weather...
We've been hitting the Kendal climbing gym hard in the evenings, so much fun! My elbow problems finally seem to be in the past, and I just can't wait to get after it again. I even love climbing plastic, just the feeling of moves, chalk, ropes, friends new and old, climbing is just so damn great no matter what the medium.
I think any English-speaking person likely has some sort of mental image of Britain. This small collection of islands exerted a huge influence on me, from nursery rhymes to the Magna Carta to Wordsworth poems. I keep looking out the window at the rain, sheep and all other stuff I just mentioned and feeling that I have seen it all somewhere before, and that it is more familiar than my few brief trips here should make the view. The Kendal Film Festival is definitely an British production,with a full collection of English, Scottish, Irish and even Welsh film makers--somehow this too makes sense, all the accents swirling in a pub. I'm on the jury and sworn to secrecy on that, but I am really enjoying this festival. When I get old I'm going to do nothing but tour around to film festivals. Wait, I'm already sort of doing that, Dundee is next week!
Seriously, this is a fantastic event and worth planning a trip around. The sun even shone for two days, unfortunately I was locked in a basement and unable to see it. Now that we're done judging the sun is hidden behind a layer of clouds and rain that even has the locals commenting on the poor weather...
We've been hitting the Kendal climbing gym hard in the evenings, so much fun! My elbow problems finally seem to be in the past, and I just can't wait to get after it again. I even love climbing plastic, just the feeling of moves, chalk, ropes, friends new and old, climbing is just so damn great no matter what the medium.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
The Ice Season is ON!
It's that time of year again--Ice Season, yeah! I've already hiked to one non-existent climb and retreated off another, big fun. There's lots of ice in the Rockies now, several big new routes, and lots to do. I've run some ice climbing pages on www.gravsports.com for years, but this year Eric Hobbs put some work into a nice forum that's working surprisingly well given that it's only a few days old--check it out!
I'm on my way to England and Scotland for a couple of slide shows, some climbing in the rain and a lot of great films and fun at the Kendal and Dundee film festivals. Gotta catch a flight now so out of here but may your winter be long, cold and icy!
WG
I'm on my way to England and Scotland for a couple of slide shows, some climbing in the rain and a lot of great films and fun at the Kendal and Dundee film festivals. Gotta catch a flight now so out of here but may your winter be long, cold and icy!
WG
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Fearless Planet Shows
Just received the press release on Fearless Planet, the series I've been working on for the last two plus months. The series was insane to work on, definitely one of the biggest challenges of my life. Thanks to every single person who worked on it with me, without so many good people working so hard the experience could have been a disaster but was instead something magical. I have never done so many "stunts" in such a short period of time in so many places around the world. I can't wait to watch the final cuts!
Here's the press release.
"On November 11 at 10 PM (ET/PT), following PLANET EARTH, viewers can catch the debut of Discovery Channel’s new adrenaline-filled six-part series FEARLESS PLANET, a thrill ride through the earth’s most awesome natural wonders, taking extreme filmmaking to a whole new level. Viewers join world paragliding record holder and renowned extreme sportsman Will Gadd as he journeys to some of the most amazing locations in the world – Alaska, the Sahara, Hawaii, the Great Barrier Reef and the Grand Canyon – to understand how these stunning formations were created. The series uses cutting-edge photo-real computer graphics to bring to life the geological processes that created these natural wonders.
“PLANET EARTH and FEARLESS PLANET are natural history for the 21st century,” says Discovery Channel Executive Vice President and General Manager Jane Root. “Viewers journey to the far reaches of the earth, where they discover new animals, new landscapes and all new worlds. And with revolutionary film techniques, these spectacular places are closer than ever before.”
FEARLESS PLANET – Episode Guide:
Episode One – Hawaii
Sunday, November 11, 10 PM (ET/PT)
How does a mountain shape the perfect surfing wave? What creates a paradise—yet also destroys it? And how could an island wipe out a metropolis an ocean away?
To get at the truth behind these questions, Will Gadd takes to the air in his paraglider for a unique perspective on paradise. But climbing a 40-foot waterfall, diving in a mysterious undersea tunnel and mountain biking through 10 of the world’s 13 climate zones on one mountain isn’t enough. With the help of geologist Lloyd French, Gadd is able to discover with the astonishing natural forces at work just below the surface. Using the skills of super surfer Kaleo Amadeo, Gadd finds what processes turned the tiny patch of real estate into the greatest surfing paradise on earth. Diving beneath the waters of the Pacific, Gadd discovers how the islands are formed.
- more -
PLANET EARTH/FEARLESS PLANET – PAGE 3
FOR THE FIRST TIME: In an epic sea kayaking adventure, Gadd uncovers new evidence showing the processes that created one of the islands. This leads to a compelling insight into the death of the islands and the very real dangers this could hold for cities as far away as Los Angeles.
Episode Two – Alaska
Sunday, November 18, 10 PM (ET/PT)
What makes Alaska the last great wilderness on earth? Why is it the best place to see the northern lights, and why are the mountains full of sea creatures?
Skiing from the peak of Mt. Muir, paragliding to the top of a glacier, ice climbing into a moving ice crevasse, kayaking down a dangerous melt stream and climbing an iceberg, extreme adventurer Will Gadd takes all Alaska can throw at him. He discovers where the iconic Alaskan mountain ranges come from and why they look the way they do. With help from experts Professor Peter Haussler and Dr. Tom Douglas and extreme skier Lel Tome, Gadd goes back hundreds of millions of years to uncover how the massive mountains – and the state itself – were formed. Deep inside a glacier he comes to grips with how these massive giants carved the landscape and looks into the future of this epic landscape illuminated by the awe-inspiring northern lights.
FOR THE FIRST TIME: Follow an extreme skier as she takes on Alaska’s most active volcano. And for the first time, photo-real CGI shows you the hidden processes that shaped this awesome landscape.
Episode Three – Sahara
Sunday, November 25, 10 PM (ET/PT)
Where would you find the biggest dinosaur ever? The oldest glass in the world? A cave so precious it changed history? In the same place where you can fly forever, ski at 58 degrees centigrade and drink million-year-old water.
- more -
PLANET EARTH/FEARLESS PLANET – PAGE 4
The Sahara Desert provides unique challenges. Rock climbing in the extreme heat with geologist Matt Genge, Will Gadd discovers the ancient history of a lost superdesert. While Matt Genge and palaeontologist Matt Lamanna explore the eastern side of the Sahara, Gadd’s journey takes him south, deep into the western side. Between them, they discover a world of deserts, savannahs and oceans, and Gadd uses the extreme heat to try and reach the Holy Grail of paragliding—never-ending lift. He finds a new way to cross the oceans of sand and discovers what happened to the lost waters that once made this ultradry world a lush, beautiful land.
FOR THE FIRST TIME: An exclusive view of 12,000-year-old cave paintings previously seen by only handful of people in the world. We uncover previously unseen evidence of a massive meteorite strike. It is now estimated that the rock that slammed into the Sahara was half a mile wide.
Episode Four – The Great Barrier Reef
Sunday, December 2, 10 PM (ET/PT)
How can the biggest living thing on the planet survive almost anything? How did it get to be so big? And who really is the biggest killer on the reef?
Diving with angry sharks, riding Australia’s biggest ocean current, flying over the volcanoes that helped create the reef and witnessing how the reef makes an island. Working with geologists and marine biologists, extreme adventurer Will Gadd gets up close and personal with the largest living thing on the planet (the only one you can see from space) – the Great Barrier Reef. The story of what makes this place the perfect location for the largest reef in the world takes Gadd far inland in search of clues to Australia’s mysterious past. This is the hidden story of a world that has died and been resurrected many times, and it takes Gadd on an incredible voyage above and beneath the waves of Australia’s eastern seaboard.
- more -
PLANET EARTH/FEARLESS PLANET – PAGE 5
FOR THE FIRST TIME: It has long been known that the remains of a much older reef are buried beneath today’s Great Barrier. But just how old is it? The mission: to get a piece. Scuba diving to depths of 190 feet, the team retrieved a rare piece of that ancient reef. This was a first – scientists can now date that forgotten ancestor—12,000 years old.
Episode Five – The Grand Canyon
Sunday, December 9, 10 PM (ET/PT)
How did the Grand Canyon get so deep? What are the secrets revealed in its mile-high walls, and what makes a world-class white-water rapid?
Will Gadd climbs a sheer 400-foot pinnacle to see what the birth of the Grand Canyon looked like 70 million years ago. He reveals the hidden worlds buried in the layers of rock in the canyon’s walls. From deserts to oceans to tropical forests, it’s all there as you go down. When he reaches the bottom, one mile down, he goes white-water kayaking down the canyon’s interior to see exactly how those famous rapids are made. And just beneath the water line he reaches the bottom of the Grand Canyon. He discovers America’s basement, a layer of dense black rock the United States is built on. This is the story of lost mountains, epic adventurers and gigantic volcanoes that have shaped one of the most iconic natural wonders in the world.
FOR THE FIRST TIME: In the biggest, most dangerous stunt of the series, Gadd flies across the Grand Canyon using just the power of the massive thermal lift generated by the intense temperatures formed deep within the canyon.
Episode Six – Earth Story
Sunday, December 16, 10 PM (ET/PT)
What forces created our Earth? What do the Grand Canyon, the world’s tallest waterfall and the Sahara have in common? What is a hot spot, and how did it make Hawaii and the Great Barrier Reef? And what does it really take to move a mountain?
- more -
PLANET EARTH/FEARLESS PLANET – PAGE 6
The world’s great natural wonders are works in progress. Getting up close and personal with them gives adventurer Will Gadd and scientists from around the world unique insights into the colossal forces that created the whole planet. This is big geology, and Gadd’s unique skills make him best suited to reach the rocks science needs in order to tell this epic story. Written in folds of the northern lights above Alaska a clue to the formation of the planet is uncovered. On the island of Hawaii Gadd sees the processes that created the continents, and in the Grand Canyon he experiences the power of water. In Australia’s Great Barrier Reef he discovers how continents move and how erosion created the perfect stage for the world’s tallest waterfall.
FOR THE FIRST TIME: A unique all-action view of how the world was created, told through its most iconic natural wonders and the eyes of its most extreme athlete.
The Making of FEARLESS PLANET
A high-definition format was needed with incredible contrast and color rendition comparable to film but with the ability to adapt to the extreme conditions and stunts. For this reason the series was primarily shot with Panasonic AJ-HDC27 VariCam® HD Cinema cameras. As well as its incredible resolution, the camera has astounding rendition at higher ISO speeds and its 640 sensitivity helped create a gritty, visual canvas for the stunt sequences. To achieve this, Discovery Channel filmed the action with an average of six cameras from the air, under water and in specially designed mounts that were attached to Will Gadd. To enhance this immersive concept, the shooting style mixed shutter speeds and slow motion. The 45-degree shutter was used to further augment the speed of the action.
A special thanks to Will Aslett, series producer, who got me the job, and David Warren, the only person to do all five shows. We survived it mang!
Here's the press release.
"On November 11 at 10 PM (ET/PT), following PLANET EARTH, viewers can catch the debut of Discovery Channel’s new adrenaline-filled six-part series FEARLESS PLANET, a thrill ride through the earth’s most awesome natural wonders, taking extreme filmmaking to a whole new level. Viewers join world paragliding record holder and renowned extreme sportsman Will Gadd as he journeys to some of the most amazing locations in the world – Alaska, the Sahara, Hawaii, the Great Barrier Reef and the Grand Canyon – to understand how these stunning formations were created. The series uses cutting-edge photo-real computer graphics to bring to life the geological processes that created these natural wonders.
“PLANET EARTH and FEARLESS PLANET are natural history for the 21st century,” says Discovery Channel Executive Vice President and General Manager Jane Root. “Viewers journey to the far reaches of the earth, where they discover new animals, new landscapes and all new worlds. And with revolutionary film techniques, these spectacular places are closer than ever before.”
FEARLESS PLANET – Episode Guide:
Episode One – Hawaii
Sunday, November 11, 10 PM (ET/PT)
How does a mountain shape the perfect surfing wave? What creates a paradise—yet also destroys it? And how could an island wipe out a metropolis an ocean away?
To get at the truth behind these questions, Will Gadd takes to the air in his paraglider for a unique perspective on paradise. But climbing a 40-foot waterfall, diving in a mysterious undersea tunnel and mountain biking through 10 of the world’s 13 climate zones on one mountain isn’t enough. With the help of geologist Lloyd French, Gadd is able to discover with the astonishing natural forces at work just below the surface. Using the skills of super surfer Kaleo Amadeo, Gadd finds what processes turned the tiny patch of real estate into the greatest surfing paradise on earth. Diving beneath the waters of the Pacific, Gadd discovers how the islands are formed.
- more -
PLANET EARTH/FEARLESS PLANET – PAGE 3
FOR THE FIRST TIME: In an epic sea kayaking adventure, Gadd uncovers new evidence showing the processes that created one of the islands. This leads to a compelling insight into the death of the islands and the very real dangers this could hold for cities as far away as Los Angeles.
Episode Two – Alaska
Sunday, November 18, 10 PM (ET/PT)
What makes Alaska the last great wilderness on earth? Why is it the best place to see the northern lights, and why are the mountains full of sea creatures?
Skiing from the peak of Mt. Muir, paragliding to the top of a glacier, ice climbing into a moving ice crevasse, kayaking down a dangerous melt stream and climbing an iceberg, extreme adventurer Will Gadd takes all Alaska can throw at him. He discovers where the iconic Alaskan mountain ranges come from and why they look the way they do. With help from experts Professor Peter Haussler and Dr. Tom Douglas and extreme skier Lel Tome, Gadd goes back hundreds of millions of years to uncover how the massive mountains – and the state itself – were formed. Deep inside a glacier he comes to grips with how these massive giants carved the landscape and looks into the future of this epic landscape illuminated by the awe-inspiring northern lights.
FOR THE FIRST TIME: Follow an extreme skier as she takes on Alaska’s most active volcano. And for the first time, photo-real CGI shows you the hidden processes that shaped this awesome landscape.
Episode Three – Sahara
Sunday, November 25, 10 PM (ET/PT)
Where would you find the biggest dinosaur ever? The oldest glass in the world? A cave so precious it changed history? In the same place where you can fly forever, ski at 58 degrees centigrade and drink million-year-old water.
- more -
PLANET EARTH/FEARLESS PLANET – PAGE 4
The Sahara Desert provides unique challenges. Rock climbing in the extreme heat with geologist Matt Genge, Will Gadd discovers the ancient history of a lost superdesert. While Matt Genge and palaeontologist Matt Lamanna explore the eastern side of the Sahara, Gadd’s journey takes him south, deep into the western side. Between them, they discover a world of deserts, savannahs and oceans, and Gadd uses the extreme heat to try and reach the Holy Grail of paragliding—never-ending lift. He finds a new way to cross the oceans of sand and discovers what happened to the lost waters that once made this ultradry world a lush, beautiful land.
FOR THE FIRST TIME: An exclusive view of 12,000-year-old cave paintings previously seen by only handful of people in the world. We uncover previously unseen evidence of a massive meteorite strike. It is now estimated that the rock that slammed into the Sahara was half a mile wide.
Episode Four – The Great Barrier Reef
Sunday, December 2, 10 PM (ET/PT)
How can the biggest living thing on the planet survive almost anything? How did it get to be so big? And who really is the biggest killer on the reef?
Diving with angry sharks, riding Australia’s biggest ocean current, flying over the volcanoes that helped create the reef and witnessing how the reef makes an island. Working with geologists and marine biologists, extreme adventurer Will Gadd gets up close and personal with the largest living thing on the planet (the only one you can see from space) – the Great Barrier Reef. The story of what makes this place the perfect location for the largest reef in the world takes Gadd far inland in search of clues to Australia’s mysterious past. This is the hidden story of a world that has died and been resurrected many times, and it takes Gadd on an incredible voyage above and beneath the waves of Australia’s eastern seaboard.
- more -
PLANET EARTH/FEARLESS PLANET – PAGE 5
FOR THE FIRST TIME: It has long been known that the remains of a much older reef are buried beneath today’s Great Barrier. But just how old is it? The mission: to get a piece. Scuba diving to depths of 190 feet, the team retrieved a rare piece of that ancient reef. This was a first – scientists can now date that forgotten ancestor—12,000 years old.
Episode Five – The Grand Canyon
Sunday, December 9, 10 PM (ET/PT)
How did the Grand Canyon get so deep? What are the secrets revealed in its mile-high walls, and what makes a world-class white-water rapid?
Will Gadd climbs a sheer 400-foot pinnacle to see what the birth of the Grand Canyon looked like 70 million years ago. He reveals the hidden worlds buried in the layers of rock in the canyon’s walls. From deserts to oceans to tropical forests, it’s all there as you go down. When he reaches the bottom, one mile down, he goes white-water kayaking down the canyon’s interior to see exactly how those famous rapids are made. And just beneath the water line he reaches the bottom of the Grand Canyon. He discovers America’s basement, a layer of dense black rock the United States is built on. This is the story of lost mountains, epic adventurers and gigantic volcanoes that have shaped one of the most iconic natural wonders in the world.
FOR THE FIRST TIME: In the biggest, most dangerous stunt of the series, Gadd flies across the Grand Canyon using just the power of the massive thermal lift generated by the intense temperatures formed deep within the canyon.
Episode Six – Earth Story
Sunday, December 16, 10 PM (ET/PT)
What forces created our Earth? What do the Grand Canyon, the world’s tallest waterfall and the Sahara have in common? What is a hot spot, and how did it make Hawaii and the Great Barrier Reef? And what does it really take to move a mountain?
- more -
PLANET EARTH/FEARLESS PLANET – PAGE 6
The world’s great natural wonders are works in progress. Getting up close and personal with them gives adventurer Will Gadd and scientists from around the world unique insights into the colossal forces that created the whole planet. This is big geology, and Gadd’s unique skills make him best suited to reach the rocks science needs in order to tell this epic story. Written in folds of the northern lights above Alaska a clue to the formation of the planet is uncovered. On the island of Hawaii Gadd sees the processes that created the continents, and in the Grand Canyon he experiences the power of water. In Australia’s Great Barrier Reef he discovers how continents move and how erosion created the perfect stage for the world’s tallest waterfall.
FOR THE FIRST TIME: A unique all-action view of how the world was created, told through its most iconic natural wonders and the eyes of its most extreme athlete.
The Making of FEARLESS PLANET
A high-definition format was needed with incredible contrast and color rendition comparable to film but with the ability to adapt to the extreme conditions and stunts. For this reason the series was primarily shot with Panasonic AJ-HDC27 VariCam® HD Cinema cameras. As well as its incredible resolution, the camera has astounding rendition at higher ISO speeds and its 640 sensitivity helped create a gritty, visual canvas for the stunt sequences. To achieve this, Discovery Channel filmed the action with an average of six cameras from the air, under water and in specially designed mounts that were attached to Will Gadd. To enhance this immersive concept, the shooting style mixed shutter speeds and slow motion. The 45-degree shutter was used to further augment the speed of the action.
A special thanks to Will Aslett, series producer, who got me the job, and David Warren, the only person to do all five shows. We survived it mang!
Friday, October 12, 2007
Planes,
I'm at about 30,000 feet cruising south with a plastic cup of wine, checking out a sunset over the Rockies and en route to Australia. A good place to think, and do what I most often do on flights--write. When I'm at home the phone rings, emails appear, and I can find an easy out. In a plane, with the headphones on, well, it's time to either sleep or write.
Alaska Notes:
The excitement of the heli-wash experience led my initial list of Alaska memories, but after over a week at home (yeah!) more memories are starting to pop into my mind. I'd never visited Alaska before, and that was a mistake. Alaska is amazing, and I was very lucky to see the southern end of the Chugach mountains both on the ground and from the air for a week straight. Every morning Dave King would show up with his A-Star and take us someplace amazing, where we would get to climb, kayak, paraglide, paramotor or whatever was in the script for the day. We flew over and landed on huge glaciers, grappled with crevasses, and generally had a fantastic trip with good people. The climbing community is small, and it felt almost like someplace I had been before do to the people I knew there and the close circles of friends I shared with the locals. I can't wait to go back, great people and place, thanks to everyone on the trip.
Training: the Joy of the Jungle Gym
I sometimes find myself sitting on a hotel or my own couch late in the evening with a long string of reasons why I haven't worked out: Travel, time, sleep deprivation, work, and my personal favorite, no "location" such as a gym or whatever. But I'd like to publicly hang the last reason out to dry: There is always a gym pretty close to wherever I am, almost anywhere in the world: a playground…
I've gotten really into playground "jungle gyms" in the last few years while traveling, there's enough to do at even a small playground to work myself into oblivion. It takes some creativity and the willingness to share with the other kids, but with some creative thinking a good jungle gym is a great "real" gym... Little kids bust out all kinds of swinging, jumping, stretching and just generally physical mayhem on their playgrounds, which is exactly what we as adults need to keep our bodies in reasonable shape. I do a sort of modified Cross-Fit thing my friend Josh and I started doing in Brazil a few years ago, heavy on the pushups, pullups, situps, and whatever else fits (often dips, handstand pushups, "knees to elbows" or whatever, just do it fast and give it hard, flowing with the different opportunities available in a new playground gym). Each new playground is a new gym, so things change. I love it when little kids start trying to do pullups and stuff while their parents watch, it's good for a smile every time. In the midst of a long drive home the other day (Portland to Canmore), I found a small but nice "gym" in Sand Point and went after it in the time I had.
A set of parents looked at me with concern as I did offset pull-ups on the support poles of the swing set alternating with situps while their kid swung and wondered why I was grunting so hard. Part of working out in public is letting go of inhibitions about being an "adult" and just getting it done. Like anyone, I'm sensitive to making a fool out of myself in public, but am I a fool for busting out front levers in public or are the often rather large onlookers fools? Or so I tell myself, it helps, and walking away from a five-round blast of improvised dips, lock-off traverses of the monkey bars, lateral raises on the chains and whatever else fits just feels GOOD. You don't need a Gold's gym with all the pneumatic bullshit and free weights, you just need to revert to being a kid and go at it like recess is over in 20 minutes….
Alaska Notes:
The excitement of the heli-wash experience led my initial list of Alaska memories, but after over a week at home (yeah!) more memories are starting to pop into my mind. I'd never visited Alaska before, and that was a mistake. Alaska is amazing, and I was very lucky to see the southern end of the Chugach mountains both on the ground and from the air for a week straight. Every morning Dave King would show up with his A-Star and take us someplace amazing, where we would get to climb, kayak, paraglide, paramotor or whatever was in the script for the day. We flew over and landed on huge glaciers, grappled with crevasses, and generally had a fantastic trip with good people. The climbing community is small, and it felt almost like someplace I had been before do to the people I knew there and the close circles of friends I shared with the locals. I can't wait to go back, great people and place, thanks to everyone on the trip.
Training: the Joy of the Jungle Gym
I sometimes find myself sitting on a hotel or my own couch late in the evening with a long string of reasons why I haven't worked out: Travel, time, sleep deprivation, work, and my personal favorite, no "location" such as a gym or whatever. But I'd like to publicly hang the last reason out to dry: There is always a gym pretty close to wherever I am, almost anywhere in the world: a playground…
I've gotten really into playground "jungle gyms" in the last few years while traveling, there's enough to do at even a small playground to work myself into oblivion. It takes some creativity and the willingness to share with the other kids, but with some creative thinking a good jungle gym is a great "real" gym... Little kids bust out all kinds of swinging, jumping, stretching and just generally physical mayhem on their playgrounds, which is exactly what we as adults need to keep our bodies in reasonable shape. I do a sort of modified Cross-Fit thing my friend Josh and I started doing in Brazil a few years ago, heavy on the pushups, pullups, situps, and whatever else fits (often dips, handstand pushups, "knees to elbows" or whatever, just do it fast and give it hard, flowing with the different opportunities available in a new playground gym). Each new playground is a new gym, so things change. I love it when little kids start trying to do pullups and stuff while their parents watch, it's good for a smile every time. In the midst of a long drive home the other day (Portland to Canmore), I found a small but nice "gym" in Sand Point and went after it in the time I had.
A set of parents looked at me with concern as I did offset pull-ups on the support poles of the swing set alternating with situps while their kid swung and wondered why I was grunting so hard. Part of working out in public is letting go of inhibitions about being an "adult" and just getting it done. Like anyone, I'm sensitive to making a fool out of myself in public, but am I a fool for busting out front levers in public or are the often rather large onlookers fools? Or so I tell myself, it helps, and walking away from a five-round blast of improvised dips, lock-off traverses of the monkey bars, lateral raises on the chains and whatever else fits just feels GOOD. You don't need a Gold's gym with all the pneumatic bullshit and free weights, you just need to revert to being a kid and go at it like recess is over in 20 minutes….
Monday, September 24, 2007
Alaska helicopter wash
Heli Wash
I've flown paragliders around helicopters for filming a fair amount over the years, and always thought that flying a paraglider into helicopter wash would be a bad idea. I'm working on a series of TV shows at the moment involving a lot of paragliding and helicopters; somewhat inevitably perhaps, I've confirmed that paragliders and helicopter wash don't mix. Here's the rather long story I wrote on a recent jet trip home.
I always set up some basic rules for working with helicopters: a minimum of 1,000 feet separation to the sides, 500 behind, don't fly directly in front of me at my altitude at any distance, don't fly directly over or under me, don't fly within a 2000 feet of me while I'm under 500 feet (the most vulnerable place to be on a parglider is close to the ground, and this is also where a heli's wash spreads out the most). Rotor wash can last a surprisingly long time in the air and you can't generally see it after hover altitude, you just have to assume it's there and respect it. I've always thought heli wash would be particularly violent; the rotor is moving very fast, and moves a lot of air, especially at the slower speeds helis have to fly to match my speed. I also set some rules for myself: have a minimum of 500 feet of ground clearance, don't do anything but watch the heli pilot for the first shots so I can get a feel for his situational awareness, and keep an eye on the heli at all times. I do a thorough briefing with the pilot before each shoot that lays these protocols out, and in general it's worked well.
In Hawaii we had very good communications with the pilot, and despite shooting at cloudbase with good thermals things went well. I did have to alter course when the pilot flew directly in front of me at my altitude on my flight line (the direction I was flying would have put me into his wash maybe 5-10 seconds after he went by); I was on my normal paraglider (no motor) and had no problem turning. Part of the program with these shoots is that I'm often doing "pieces to camera," or PTCs, which just means that I'm talking to a small camera on a pole that I hold with one hand while flying the glider with the other, or just let go of the glider entirely if the air is smooth. I've done this a lot over the years and have gotten pretty good at flying one-handed even in strong air, the air in Hawaii was no problem. When the heli cut me off (he was far away from his perspective, no danger of hitting the heli or blades, just the wash) I was able to turn quickly with one hand. I still got a piece of his wash and took a small frontal, but no big deal. The pilot and I had a discussion on the radio, and worked well for the rest of the shoot.
In Morocco I again had a heli sequence, but there was a bit of a language barrier and poor coms with the heli. At one point the pilot flew directly in front of me at about 1000 feet of horizontal separation, so I wanted to turn and fly the other direction but it took a few seconds to get my hands back on the controls as I was flying a paramotor with high hook-ins and had let the brakes go in the smooth evening air. This put the controls at the limit of what I could reach, but I was able to turn away and totally missed the wash. I wanted a motor with lower hook-in points, but somehow that didn't happen despite my best efforts. High hook-in points are OK if you fly a glider with short motor-specific risers, but I also fly my glider a lot without motors, sometimes in the same day, so switching risers continually isn't an option, and I couldn't find risers with low and high hook in points for my glider. My normal motor has low hook-in points, I really prefer that system for many reasons but that's another story. High hook-in points and normal paraglider risers are a bad combination to launch as it's difficult to control the glider and impossible to front launch so a running reverse is the only way to go, but I got it done after some technique mods.
In Alaska we worked with one of the best heli pilots I've ever flown with, Dave King from Last Frontier. We were flying from near Palmer into different locations about 10 to 30 minutes of heli time into the mountains, it was always the highlight of my day to fly with Dave. He had a great feel for the air and machine, and taught me a lot about flying, truly a fine experience to fly over glaciers and among the peaks of Alaska. We did a few scenes where he dropped me high on a peak and then I flew off and landed on a massive glacier; tricky flying to put a heli on a sloped and convoluted icy glacier safely, but he did it smoothly as usual. I had a cameraman and the director in the heli shooting aerials, Dave kept distance well and I was very comfortable with him. He did fly in front of me at about 2,000 feet horizontal separation and I caught a small piece of his wash, just a "bump bump" movement, we talked about this and agreed that was about the limit for flying directly in front of me at my altitude...
We then did a paramotor (paraglider with a motor on my back driving a small prop) scene late one evening. We were all tired from a long day of shooting, but I managed to get into the air with yet another motor with high hook-in points, a real hassle. We were in a rush as it would be dark in about an hour, so I climbed to about 600 AGL as Dave took off and the camera team started shooting aerials. As the light was going I immediately started doing my lines to camera, which meant letting go of the glider completely due to the high hook-in points. The air was very smooth evening "glass," not a bump in it, so no big deal. When I do pieces to camera my situational awareness is greatly reduced, but I was trying to keep an eye on the heli as best I could. It flew in front of me at about 2,000 feet and slightly lower than me, no wash, no problem, I became more focused on doing my lines to camera before I lost the sun. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the heli cross in front of me exactly at my altitude and kinda close, but I was tired and the heli was only kinda close but not crazy close, and getting ahold of the brakes and turning would have taken time, plus the cruise control on the motor was broken (I'd rigged it to work with a sock I somehow had in my camera bag) so I didn't want to move my legs where I had it pinched and then have to mess with it again, and I'd just had a thought about how to do the PTC better, nah, it'll be OK. I did check my altitude quickly, still at least 500 feet, back to work. BANG!
The glider folded up violently. I haven't had an unexpected massive collapse like that in about ten years, it just doesn't happen. I knew immediately that I'd hit the heli wash. I dropped the camera onto its safety, and went for the brakes, which were harder to reach than normal due to the high hook ins. The glider re-inflated behind and to my left side judging by tension, then shot violently overhead and sideways to the right. With no brake input it carried on flying well below the horizon and to the side with one wing still stuck into the right lines, collapsed hard again as expected, and I fell back under it with the brakes finally in my hands. Quick ground check, still plenty of altitude to throw the reserve, good, glider doing a funky spin thing right, left brake, surge, start to stall left side, get it flying, easy, OK, stable smooth turn to the right with about 20 percent of the right wing still locked into the lines but the rest clear. I was able to hold flight heading with light left brake. I wanted to get the stuck side sorted but was totally unable to reach the lines that would help me do that, and a tentative pump on the right side caused an aggressive turn/stall feeling, nope. By this time I was only about 200 feet off the ground, and figured maybe I could motor back up and work on it with more altitude. I managed to find the throttle, which I'd lost during the maneuvers, but when I gently powered up the glider didn't like it, stall/spin feeling, nope. Throw reserve or not? I decided the glider was landable in its current configuration as I could fly it straight so I pointed it into the wind and sunk toward on the huge gravel flat below me. I had a clean landing then sat down and shook like a leaf for a bit, that sucked. I had about a half second of anger towards Dave, but that passed quickly as the real reasons for the situation had far less to do with Dave than a long string of poor decisions on my part:
1. I was flying late in the day when I was really tired, as was Dave. It was the fifth straight day of shooting and dong a lot of intense activity. I should have called the day.
2. I didn't repeat a thorough pre-flight planning session and briefing with Dave as we had done with the other flights; I was so focused on getting into the air that I forgot that any "stunt" with more than one person involved is a team effort, and it's my job to keep that team organized.
3. I rushed the situation to try and get a job done on a tight schedule (and because I wanted to fly).
4. I was flying a motor with high hook-in points on a glider with long risers. This greatly increased my reaction time 'cause I couldn't immediately grab the brakes.
5. The same high hook in points prevented me from reaching the proper lines (stabio) and possibly sorting out the stuck wing.
6. Everyone in the air was working to make a film and distracted to some degree. Dave is an excellent pilot I trust, but he is listening to the film crew and trying to get shots for them. I'd talked with the director and cameraman about safe distances and watching out for me, but they are primarily focused on their job, which is getting great shots. Nobody in the heli was paying full attention to absolutely keep that heli a set distance and position from me, nor was I properly watching the heli.
7. I did not have good coms with the heli.
8. I was not following my own protocol for distance, and was also letting the heli fly directly in front of me rather than all heli turns going away from my flight line and not crossing my path. I'd been lulled into a false sense of security with the heli's wash.
9. I was lazy about turning away from the heli when it crossed my path. Tired, etc.
What I did right:
1. I had 600 feet of altitude. There was some discussion of flying lower for the shot, but I kept to that protocol for exactly this situation. At the time I questioned whether I was being too safety oriented; my glider doesn't fold up very often, etc...
2. I was still one step away from a really bad crash as I was high enough to throw my reserve, which I had carefully attached to the motor that day. I actually had the option of flying another motor I'll call "B" that showed up at the last minute, but choose to fly the original motor as I'd hooked the reserve up to it. I knew the air was smooth, I've never needed my reserve in over 3,000 hours of flying, and motor "B" was lighter with slightly better hook-in points... It was very tempting to fly it, but I choose to fly the original motor with the reserve "just in case." What woke me up in a cold sweat was not the collapse, that's happened lots over the years, but realizing how close I had been to flying motor B without a reserve. Maybe things would have been totally different, but then again maybe I wouldn't have gotten control of the glider as quickly or I could not have recovered it in a flyable configuration... I would really have hated to be in that position without a reserve parachute, I literally woke up in the middle of the night with that realization.
3. I was flying a Gin Rebel, a DHV 2 glider that recovers well with no pilot input. I really blew that wing up, and it did recover. Thanks to Gin for that one. I often fly comp gliders, but I take the game down a bit for filming so I don't have to pay as much attention to the glider, and so it will recover better if it all goes bad. It all went bad.
What I'll do differently on the next shoot with a heli:
Go through the list above and correct each and every item on it. I also won't fly around helis again unless there is someone in the heli who knows paragliders and whose sole job is to watch the overall situation.
I also now know what it's like to fly a glider directly into rotor wash; it's been a bit abstract to this point, it's not anymore. If the heli had of been 100 feet lower or 100 feet higher it would have been fine I think, but I got the direct "slap." I can communicate this to future heli pilots based on personal experience and not, "Here's what I think will happen..." Concrete experience is better than abstract theory.
Some broader lessons learned:
1. Getting away with something stupid doesn't mean it's a good idea to continue doing the same thing. I let the heli fly directly in front of me, and then let it fly closer. The first clear sign of serious trouble could have been much worse. We do this in the mountains sometimes; ski a slope that's questionable, OK, that worked, little more questionable, OK, gee, I must be working with a "too safe" attitude, boom, it all slides. Apparently heli ski guides are very conscious of this progression and try to minimize it, but it happens in all risk activities, including things like trading stocks... A bad decision can work out OK for the wrong reasons, but it's still a bad decision that may have harsh consequences when that realization is finally made.
2. I do a lot of TV work and am very familiar with the "just one more shot" program. I've done hundreds of days of film/stunt work with no accidents, always under time pressure. There's never enough time on TV shoots, but I never let that define my safety margin. I let this one get away from me a bit, not due to any sort of direct pressure (in fact the director encouraged me to quit for the day, respect to him for that), but because I like working hard, and so did the team of good people I was working with. I normally try operate at less than about 75 percent of my "max" mental or physical capacity on a TV gig to keep myself sharp and strong enough to deal with the unexpected. I was operating near my mental and physical limit on this day, and it bit me. A good lesson to re-learn.
3. Like most accidents or near misses, this one wasn't the result of just one mistake. We use protocols in risk sports to safeguard not only against the obvious problems but to have a margin of error for the unexpected, including our own inevitable bad decisions. I broke most of my protocols but the two that I respected may have saved my life or at least prevented serious injury: I kept enough altitude to recover a fully collapsed glider, and I had a reserve "just in case." There have been a lot of times in the mountains where the "just in case" bit of thinking has appeared useless, but the few times I've needed the "bonus" it's been very, very important. In the long term respecting basic protocols and having the "just in case" mindset is very important for survival. You can shave the margin only so thin for so long before it isn't there when you really need it.
I'm off to Australia and then Arizona for more of the same great job, this experience will help me do a safer job of it all both on this shoot and on my own adventures. I hope the above makes it clear that I have no bad feelings toward anyone on the shoot, but just to make it clear I absolutely don't. I would definitely do the same job again with the same people, and would actually prefer that as the experience has made us all a bit more heads up. When we do a stunt or anything dangerous it all looks easy and like there is loads of margin--until there isn't. Experiences like this drive home the point. I'm very glad I had a reserve, as I was still one "level" away from this being a "I survived by the skin of my teeth" story, but that doesn't make it right. Play safe out there.
PS--The aerial shots look fantastic, the whole reason for doing this sort of flying in the first place!
I've flown paragliders around helicopters for filming a fair amount over the years, and always thought that flying a paraglider into helicopter wash would be a bad idea. I'm working on a series of TV shows at the moment involving a lot of paragliding and helicopters; somewhat inevitably perhaps, I've confirmed that paragliders and helicopter wash don't mix. Here's the rather long story I wrote on a recent jet trip home.
I always set up some basic rules for working with helicopters: a minimum of 1,000 feet separation to the sides, 500 behind, don't fly directly in front of me at my altitude at any distance, don't fly directly over or under me, don't fly within a 2000 feet of me while I'm under 500 feet (the most vulnerable place to be on a parglider is close to the ground, and this is also where a heli's wash spreads out the most). Rotor wash can last a surprisingly long time in the air and you can't generally see it after hover altitude, you just have to assume it's there and respect it. I've always thought heli wash would be particularly violent; the rotor is moving very fast, and moves a lot of air, especially at the slower speeds helis have to fly to match my speed. I also set some rules for myself: have a minimum of 500 feet of ground clearance, don't do anything but watch the heli pilot for the first shots so I can get a feel for his situational awareness, and keep an eye on the heli at all times. I do a thorough briefing with the pilot before each shoot that lays these protocols out, and in general it's worked well.
In Hawaii we had very good communications with the pilot, and despite shooting at cloudbase with good thermals things went well. I did have to alter course when the pilot flew directly in front of me at my altitude on my flight line (the direction I was flying would have put me into his wash maybe 5-10 seconds after he went by); I was on my normal paraglider (no motor) and had no problem turning. Part of the program with these shoots is that I'm often doing "pieces to camera," or PTCs, which just means that I'm talking to a small camera on a pole that I hold with one hand while flying the glider with the other, or just let go of the glider entirely if the air is smooth. I've done this a lot over the years and have gotten pretty good at flying one-handed even in strong air, the air in Hawaii was no problem. When the heli cut me off (he was far away from his perspective, no danger of hitting the heli or blades, just the wash) I was able to turn quickly with one hand. I still got a piece of his wash and took a small frontal, but no big deal. The pilot and I had a discussion on the radio, and worked well for the rest of the shoot.
In Morocco I again had a heli sequence, but there was a bit of a language barrier and poor coms with the heli. At one point the pilot flew directly in front of me at about 1000 feet of horizontal separation, so I wanted to turn and fly the other direction but it took a few seconds to get my hands back on the controls as I was flying a paramotor with high hook-ins and had let the brakes go in the smooth evening air. This put the controls at the limit of what I could reach, but I was able to turn away and totally missed the wash. I wanted a motor with lower hook-in points, but somehow that didn't happen despite my best efforts. High hook-in points are OK if you fly a glider with short motor-specific risers, but I also fly my glider a lot without motors, sometimes in the same day, so switching risers continually isn't an option, and I couldn't find risers with low and high hook in points for my glider. My normal motor has low hook-in points, I really prefer that system for many reasons but that's another story. High hook-in points and normal paraglider risers are a bad combination to launch as it's difficult to control the glider and impossible to front launch so a running reverse is the only way to go, but I got it done after some technique mods.
In Alaska we worked with one of the best heli pilots I've ever flown with, Dave King from Last Frontier. We were flying from near Palmer into different locations about 10 to 30 minutes of heli time into the mountains, it was always the highlight of my day to fly with Dave. He had a great feel for the air and machine, and taught me a lot about flying, truly a fine experience to fly over glaciers and among the peaks of Alaska. We did a few scenes where he dropped me high on a peak and then I flew off and landed on a massive glacier; tricky flying to put a heli on a sloped and convoluted icy glacier safely, but he did it smoothly as usual. I had a cameraman and the director in the heli shooting aerials, Dave kept distance well and I was very comfortable with him. He did fly in front of me at about 2,000 feet horizontal separation and I caught a small piece of his wash, just a "bump bump" movement, we talked about this and agreed that was about the limit for flying directly in front of me at my altitude...
We then did a paramotor (paraglider with a motor on my back driving a small prop) scene late one evening. We were all tired from a long day of shooting, but I managed to get into the air with yet another motor with high hook-in points, a real hassle. We were in a rush as it would be dark in about an hour, so I climbed to about 600 AGL as Dave took off and the camera team started shooting aerials. As the light was going I immediately started doing my lines to camera, which meant letting go of the glider completely due to the high hook-in points. The air was very smooth evening "glass," not a bump in it, so no big deal. When I do pieces to camera my situational awareness is greatly reduced, but I was trying to keep an eye on the heli as best I could. It flew in front of me at about 2,000 feet and slightly lower than me, no wash, no problem, I became more focused on doing my lines to camera before I lost the sun. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the heli cross in front of me exactly at my altitude and kinda close, but I was tired and the heli was only kinda close but not crazy close, and getting ahold of the brakes and turning would have taken time, plus the cruise control on the motor was broken (I'd rigged it to work with a sock I somehow had in my camera bag) so I didn't want to move my legs where I had it pinched and then have to mess with it again, and I'd just had a thought about how to do the PTC better, nah, it'll be OK. I did check my altitude quickly, still at least 500 feet, back to work. BANG!
The glider folded up violently. I haven't had an unexpected massive collapse like that in about ten years, it just doesn't happen. I knew immediately that I'd hit the heli wash. I dropped the camera onto its safety, and went for the brakes, which were harder to reach than normal due to the high hook ins. The glider re-inflated behind and to my left side judging by tension, then shot violently overhead and sideways to the right. With no brake input it carried on flying well below the horizon and to the side with one wing still stuck into the right lines, collapsed hard again as expected, and I fell back under it with the brakes finally in my hands. Quick ground check, still plenty of altitude to throw the reserve, good, glider doing a funky spin thing right, left brake, surge, start to stall left side, get it flying, easy, OK, stable smooth turn to the right with about 20 percent of the right wing still locked into the lines but the rest clear. I was able to hold flight heading with light left brake. I wanted to get the stuck side sorted but was totally unable to reach the lines that would help me do that, and a tentative pump on the right side caused an aggressive turn/stall feeling, nope. By this time I was only about 200 feet off the ground, and figured maybe I could motor back up and work on it with more altitude. I managed to find the throttle, which I'd lost during the maneuvers, but when I gently powered up the glider didn't like it, stall/spin feeling, nope. Throw reserve or not? I decided the glider was landable in its current configuration as I could fly it straight so I pointed it into the wind and sunk toward on the huge gravel flat below me. I had a clean landing then sat down and shook like a leaf for a bit, that sucked. I had about a half second of anger towards Dave, but that passed quickly as the real reasons for the situation had far less to do with Dave than a long string of poor decisions on my part:
1. I was flying late in the day when I was really tired, as was Dave. It was the fifth straight day of shooting and dong a lot of intense activity. I should have called the day.
2. I didn't repeat a thorough pre-flight planning session and briefing with Dave as we had done with the other flights; I was so focused on getting into the air that I forgot that any "stunt" with more than one person involved is a team effort, and it's my job to keep that team organized.
3. I rushed the situation to try and get a job done on a tight schedule (and because I wanted to fly).
4. I was flying a motor with high hook-in points on a glider with long risers. This greatly increased my reaction time 'cause I couldn't immediately grab the brakes.
5. The same high hook in points prevented me from reaching the proper lines (stabio) and possibly sorting out the stuck wing.
6. Everyone in the air was working to make a film and distracted to some degree. Dave is an excellent pilot I trust, but he is listening to the film crew and trying to get shots for them. I'd talked with the director and cameraman about safe distances and watching out for me, but they are primarily focused on their job, which is getting great shots. Nobody in the heli was paying full attention to absolutely keep that heli a set distance and position from me, nor was I properly watching the heli.
7. I did not have good coms with the heli.
8. I was not following my own protocol for distance, and was also letting the heli fly directly in front of me rather than all heli turns going away from my flight line and not crossing my path. I'd been lulled into a false sense of security with the heli's wash.
9. I was lazy about turning away from the heli when it crossed my path. Tired, etc.
What I did right:
1. I had 600 feet of altitude. There was some discussion of flying lower for the shot, but I kept to that protocol for exactly this situation. At the time I questioned whether I was being too safety oriented; my glider doesn't fold up very often, etc...
2. I was still one step away from a really bad crash as I was high enough to throw my reserve, which I had carefully attached to the motor that day. I actually had the option of flying another motor I'll call "B" that showed up at the last minute, but choose to fly the original motor as I'd hooked the reserve up to it. I knew the air was smooth, I've never needed my reserve in over 3,000 hours of flying, and motor "B" was lighter with slightly better hook-in points... It was very tempting to fly it, but I choose to fly the original motor with the reserve "just in case." What woke me up in a cold sweat was not the collapse, that's happened lots over the years, but realizing how close I had been to flying motor B without a reserve. Maybe things would have been totally different, but then again maybe I wouldn't have gotten control of the glider as quickly or I could not have recovered it in a flyable configuration... I would really have hated to be in that position without a reserve parachute, I literally woke up in the middle of the night with that realization.
3. I was flying a Gin Rebel, a DHV 2 glider that recovers well with no pilot input. I really blew that wing up, and it did recover. Thanks to Gin for that one. I often fly comp gliders, but I take the game down a bit for filming so I don't have to pay as much attention to the glider, and so it will recover better if it all goes bad. It all went bad.
What I'll do differently on the next shoot with a heli:
Go through the list above and correct each and every item on it. I also won't fly around helis again unless there is someone in the heli who knows paragliders and whose sole job is to watch the overall situation.
I also now know what it's like to fly a glider directly into rotor wash; it's been a bit abstract to this point, it's not anymore. If the heli had of been 100 feet lower or 100 feet higher it would have been fine I think, but I got the direct "slap." I can communicate this to future heli pilots based on personal experience and not, "Here's what I think will happen..." Concrete experience is better than abstract theory.
Some broader lessons learned:
1. Getting away with something stupid doesn't mean it's a good idea to continue doing the same thing. I let the heli fly directly in front of me, and then let it fly closer. The first clear sign of serious trouble could have been much worse. We do this in the mountains sometimes; ski a slope that's questionable, OK, that worked, little more questionable, OK, gee, I must be working with a "too safe" attitude, boom, it all slides. Apparently heli ski guides are very conscious of this progression and try to minimize it, but it happens in all risk activities, including things like trading stocks... A bad decision can work out OK for the wrong reasons, but it's still a bad decision that may have harsh consequences when that realization is finally made.
2. I do a lot of TV work and am very familiar with the "just one more shot" program. I've done hundreds of days of film/stunt work with no accidents, always under time pressure. There's never enough time on TV shoots, but I never let that define my safety margin. I let this one get away from me a bit, not due to any sort of direct pressure (in fact the director encouraged me to quit for the day, respect to him for that), but because I like working hard, and so did the team of good people I was working with. I normally try operate at less than about 75 percent of my "max" mental or physical capacity on a TV gig to keep myself sharp and strong enough to deal with the unexpected. I was operating near my mental and physical limit on this day, and it bit me. A good lesson to re-learn.
3. Like most accidents or near misses, this one wasn't the result of just one mistake. We use protocols in risk sports to safeguard not only against the obvious problems but to have a margin of error for the unexpected, including our own inevitable bad decisions. I broke most of my protocols but the two that I respected may have saved my life or at least prevented serious injury: I kept enough altitude to recover a fully collapsed glider, and I had a reserve "just in case." There have been a lot of times in the mountains where the "just in case" bit of thinking has appeared useless, but the few times I've needed the "bonus" it's been very, very important. In the long term respecting basic protocols and having the "just in case" mindset is very important for survival. You can shave the margin only so thin for so long before it isn't there when you really need it.
I'm off to Australia and then Arizona for more of the same great job, this experience will help me do a safer job of it all both on this shoot and on my own adventures. I hope the above makes it clear that I have no bad feelings toward anyone on the shoot, but just to make it clear I absolutely don't. I would definitely do the same job again with the same people, and would actually prefer that as the experience has made us all a bit more heads up. When we do a stunt or anything dangerous it all looks easy and like there is loads of margin--until there isn't. Experiences like this drive home the point. I'm very glad I had a reserve, as I was still one "level" away from this being a "I survived by the skin of my teeth" story, but that doesn't make it right. Play safe out there.
PS--The aerial shots look fantastic, the whole reason for doing this sort of flying in the first place!
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Skydiving
Skydiving has always struck me as a silly sport: Flop out of a plane, fall for a bit, pull the handle. The last sentence combines arrogance, hubris and ignorance rather nicely, as I recently found out. Due to an on-going film gig I've had to learn how to skydive, it's just simpler than doing some other aerial stunts. I've done three jumps out of a plane previously (instructor holds your pilot chute, jump) and a handful of BASE jumps off a bridge. I did all of these reasonably well, so I signed up for an accelerated free-fall course with Skydive Vancouver, and naively assumed I'd kick ass at it. I was wrong. From the first trip out of the plane with an instructor on either side of me it just didn't go all that well. I simply don't like falling; I've spent my whole life NOT falling, and the rush of wind and spatial disorientation was horrendous for me. I pulled the first skydive off OK, pulled OK, but screwed the second one up pretty good. Nothing all that dangerous thanks to the instructors, but I did a lot wrong and failed the second level of AFF. I haven't "failed" at a sport in a long time, it was humbling. I spent the night thinking about the whole experience and finally decided that I needed to stop thinking I knew what I was doing and start asking more questions, start listening better, and generally get my head around a sport that I find really overwhelming. There's just something wrong about falling. Finally on my third AFF jump I managed to start flying my body, but only after I got past the rush of the wind and the general feeling of, "Oh shit, I'm about to die." I think I would have pulled after about .02 seconds without the goal of passing the AFF program--once the canopy is out I'm totally happy (learner skydive canopies are a lot easier to fly than a paraglider), but that freefall business terrified me...
It's also been a good re-education about being a novice in sport. I don't generally get all that scared flying my paraglider or climbing anymore, I know the systems and have faith in my skills. I'll be a better instructor in those sports having experienced the terror of learning something really overwhelming again. Before my third jump I spent literally hours visualizing how the wind would feel, what I needed to do FIRST, second, third, the motions in the air, etc., and had a much better jump. On the fourth jump the instructor let go of me and I fell stable, turned a bit, and had good altitude awareness throughout. I even enjoyed it a bit, starting to feel my body in the air instead of just the huge siren going off that says, "FALLING, FALLING, FALLING, DO SOMETHING ABOUT THAT!"
The whole experience has also been an education for me about how I learn; I need a lot of repetition to get good at something. Usually I can "fake" the opening sequences of a new sport (stand up on surfboard in easy waves, stand up water-skiing first go), but all the sports I've learned recently play off of other sports that I know something about. Water skiing is different than normal skiing, but it's also not all that different than surfing a kayak and skiing combined. Surfing is just like standing up in my kayak while surfing. Skydiving was totally different, I couldn't "fake" it with existing sport movements, and had no mental comfort zone to operate in. In fact, many of my existing sport patterns are negative for skydiving (look at the ground while falling, keep my feet oriented toward the ground, keep my legs together like I did for years as a diver/in the air skiing, etc). Skydiving is also really short, only 30 seconds of freefall per trip at my level, which doesn't allow much time to work on skills. I need time to dial in my movements and get comfortable. I've only ever gotten any real level of skill at any sport through endless days of practice. It's hard to do that with skydiving...
I've spent some more time thinking about falling through the air and running better movies in my mind, I think I'm actually going to enjoy jumping out the door of the plane next time I go. It will be my last AFF level (they way they do it in Canada) so the instructor will huck first and I'll chase him or her out the door. I am really enjoying the instructors and scene at Skydive Vancouver, they're safe and good people, any problems with learning are due to my mind. But I'm heading back for more!
WG, not yet a skydiver.
It's also been a good re-education about being a novice in sport. I don't generally get all that scared flying my paraglider or climbing anymore, I know the systems and have faith in my skills. I'll be a better instructor in those sports having experienced the terror of learning something really overwhelming again. Before my third jump I spent literally hours visualizing how the wind would feel, what I needed to do FIRST, second, third, the motions in the air, etc., and had a much better jump. On the fourth jump the instructor let go of me and I fell stable, turned a bit, and had good altitude awareness throughout. I even enjoyed it a bit, starting to feel my body in the air instead of just the huge siren going off that says, "FALLING, FALLING, FALLING, DO SOMETHING ABOUT THAT!"
The whole experience has also been an education for me about how I learn; I need a lot of repetition to get good at something. Usually I can "fake" the opening sequences of a new sport (stand up on surfboard in easy waves, stand up water-skiing first go), but all the sports I've learned recently play off of other sports that I know something about. Water skiing is different than normal skiing, but it's also not all that different than surfing a kayak and skiing combined. Surfing is just like standing up in my kayak while surfing. Skydiving was totally different, I couldn't "fake" it with existing sport movements, and had no mental comfort zone to operate in. In fact, many of my existing sport patterns are negative for skydiving (look at the ground while falling, keep my feet oriented toward the ground, keep my legs together like I did for years as a diver/in the air skiing, etc). Skydiving is also really short, only 30 seconds of freefall per trip at my level, which doesn't allow much time to work on skills. I need time to dial in my movements and get comfortable. I've only ever gotten any real level of skill at any sport through endless days of practice. It's hard to do that with skydiving...
I've spent some more time thinking about falling through the air and running better movies in my mind, I think I'm actually going to enjoy jumping out the door of the plane next time I go. It will be my last AFF level (they way they do it in Canada) so the instructor will huck first and I'll chase him or her out the door. I am really enjoying the instructors and scene at Skydive Vancouver, they're safe and good people, any problems with learning are due to my mind. But I'm heading back for more!
WG, not yet a skydiver.
Sunday, September 02, 2007
Morocco
The last ten days have passed in a blur of travel, filming, climbing, flying and the places and people of Morocco. I'm working on a new series for Discovery, crazed but good. Highlights of the trip included climbing a new route on absolutely the worst rock I've ever climbed, flying over the sand dunes of the Sahara and some other stuff that will have to remain secret until the series starts airing late this year.
I last traveled in Morocco about 20 years ago, this trip was a lot more fun. First off, we were working a with Moroccan crew, and I always enjoy working with people in their own culture instead of just being a tourist. Last time I was in Morocco I was dead broke and pretty much at the mercy of everyone, which I honestly did not enjoy all that much at times. Every developing country comes with a certain amount of "You're a white tourist with a $ sign over your head" and I don't blame the locals at all for that, but it's been taken to a much more aggressive level in Morocco than in some other countries I've visited. On this trip we were usually in remote locations, and the people were a lot more chill than they are in the cities.
Morocco is a relatively tolerant Islamic country (you can buy and drink beer), but it's still a total trip to see women in eyes-only clothing, had some good talks with our Moroccan crew about all of that--there are some perspectives that are just hard for anyone not brought up in that culture to understand, but good to talk about in a 4wd blasting across the desert. I'm feeling pretty lucky to live as I do. One thing that always strikes me while traveling all over the world is that the level of comfort, medical care and general ease of life that defines North America and Europe just isn't the way in most of the world. Our opulent lifestyle is just that, it's not the rest of the world that is poor but us that are very rich in comparison--financial poverty is the norm globally. I always come back wondering why I was born into such relative luxury, the world is not a fair place.
We shot way out in the desert near the Algerian border for most of the trip, fantastic place to be, a lot like the Mojave desert between Vegas and LA but stripped down and even drier in general, stunning. I mangled the French language aggressively as per usual, (Morocco was a French colony like much of northwest Africa at one point, French still the common language) and had a great time in what was for me insane heat--temps over 45 (110+ American).
Writing this up on the flight back home, the first time in a week I've had more than about ten minutes of "free" time, feels good to just sit back and not worry about drinking liters of water every hour. One thing I discovered on this trip is that plain water doesn't cut it after a certain point in extremely hot weather, mixing with electrolyte powder is WAY better. I suspect I've had some go-arounds with hypernatremia in hot weather in the past, electrolyte mixes are the way forward.
I'll post some more details about the air dates on this series when I'm done with it, off to Alaska next week then two more shoots and it's a wrap. I'm the "presenter," which is a new role for me, definitely a huge challenge to do well. Good presenters make it look easy, but it isn't...
Thanks to Josh, Tom, David, Tim, James, Claudia, Jimmy, Aziz, Omer, Salim and the rest of the crew for making it a great trip despite the insane schedule and temperatures. I'd like to visit Morocco again with more time...
Photo courtesy Josh Briggs, thanks.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Mountain Light
I'm up early this morning to do some work on Europe time and finish some other things that need doing before the day really starts. I'm not a morning person in general, I've spent far more nights that ended at 4:00 in the morning than I have getting up then, that's just the way it is. I crawled out of bed all bleary-eyed in the darkness before dawn and went to work at the kitchen table while swilling black death coffee. My surprise reward was watching the sun rise on the peaks around Canmore. At first it was just a thin sliver of delicate light creeping along the tops of the peaks, then as the minutes passed the light show grew into a mad symphony of light and cloud swirling through the peaks. Beams would lance down through the clouds and light a rock pillar so perfectly, then fade out into the grey of limestone as another beam blasted somewhere else on the range. It was almost like watching a really good fireworks display, where each eruption of light was better than the last, and made somehow sweeter because you knew it had to end. The show made the work seem pretty irrelevant but getting up early so very worthwhile. I always love the feeling of being up early hiking into a climb or even just driving as the sun comes up on new terrain, so why don't I get up early more often? Who knows, but it sure was a fine morning. Mornings like this remind me exactly how cool the Rockies are; I get to travel a lot, but my home mountains still always leave me in awe.
Mountain light has got to be one of the greatest things going, it's a treat each and every time I get to watch it.
Here's a photo of it all, better in person but had to share this.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Hawaii
Hawaii is one of those places I've always meant to visit and never have. Less than 10 hours after finishing up the Canadian Nationals was on a jet to Hawaii, and then spent a week there on a film job with a good crew from Impossible Pictures. The whole experience was a great--if fast-paced--time. Scuba diving (first time with an "Aga" mask), climbing waterfalls (not the frozen kind), ocean kayaking, paragliding (a big thanks to the Oahu pilots for all their help!) and some mountain biking to round it all off. We were only on the big island and Oahu unfortunately, but it was one of those full-bore trips that seem a lot longer than a week. Hawaii is an amazingly diverse place, and I only saw two islands and not even close to all of them. So much in such a small space... I hope my next trip will run at a slightly more relaxed pace with more time to dig into the islands, there's a lot to see and do besides sit on the beach.
-San Francisco Airport lounge.
-San Francisco Airport lounge.
Canadian Paragliding Nationals
We had a really fun event off of Mt. Seven, it brought back meets
from yesteryear. Sixty five competitors, six tasks in seven days, and
minimal injuries. I'd like to thank everyone involved in the event
one way or another, especially Ross, Dale, Lucille, Devon, Caroline,
Nancy (and everyone else back in the kitchen) and all the drivers and
volunteers, who were many. Then there was our Australian Army
Logistics Team, David and Lee, who really made a messy situation flow
well. As always Vincene was everywhere she needed to be, thanks. The
meet would not have worked without all the sudden help from many
unexpected directions at key moments. I've done some meets outside of
Canada recently that sometimes made me question why I fly in comps;
this meet was the opposite of that thanks to everyone who helped make
the vibe what it was. I've already received a stack of emails from
competitors around the world saying they want to do it again next
year, mainly due to the fun atmosphere everyone "local" helped
create. It's way too soon to think about next year (biannual?), but
it was fun to share Golden with both old and new friends.
A special thanks to John and Cathy-Anne for creating GEAR. Without
their vision we wouldn't have such an absolutely incredible place to
base from in so many ways.
Also thank to Keith, Nicole, and Bill for their efforts, the
"Collective" continued to work. And thanks to the free flying HG and
PG pilots who worked with our launch windows and the parking. I know
setting up an HG in the dust isn't great, but by keeping the parking
area free of vehicles we at least had enough room for everyone to set
up and get off the hill. I was told there had been some bad politics
with parking on top in the past, but we had no issues until the last
day and even then it was pretty minor. Thanks.
Finally, congratulations to Keith and Nicole for the very solid
flying that led to their new titles as Canadian National Paragliding
Champions. Results will be up shortly...
Best of luck to the Hang Gliding Worlds Team in Texas!
WG
from yesteryear. Sixty five competitors, six tasks in seven days, and
minimal injuries. I'd like to thank everyone involved in the event
one way or another, especially Ross, Dale, Lucille, Devon, Caroline,
Nancy (and everyone else back in the kitchen) and all the drivers and
volunteers, who were many. Then there was our Australian Army
Logistics Team, David and Lee, who really made a messy situation flow
well. As always Vincene was everywhere she needed to be, thanks. The
meet would not have worked without all the sudden help from many
unexpected directions at key moments. I've done some meets outside of
Canada recently that sometimes made me question why I fly in comps;
this meet was the opposite of that thanks to everyone who helped make
the vibe what it was. I've already received a stack of emails from
competitors around the world saying they want to do it again next
year, mainly due to the fun atmosphere everyone "local" helped
create. It's way too soon to think about next year (biannual?), but
it was fun to share Golden with both old and new friends.
A special thanks to John and Cathy-Anne for creating GEAR. Without
their vision we wouldn't have such an absolutely incredible place to
base from in so many ways.
Also thank to Keith, Nicole, and Bill for their efforts, the
"Collective" continued to work. And thanks to the free flying HG and
PG pilots who worked with our launch windows and the parking. I know
setting up an HG in the dust isn't great, but by keeping the parking
area free of vehicles we at least had enough room for everyone to set
up and get off the hill. I was told there had been some bad politics
with parking on top in the past, but we had no issues until the last
day and even then it was pretty minor. Thanks.
Finally, congratulations to Keith and Nicole for the very solid
flying that led to their new titles as Canadian National Paragliding
Champions. Results will be up shortly...
Best of luck to the Hang Gliding Worlds Team in Texas!
WG
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