This spring two of my buds went over to Nepal to climb a new line on the south face of Annapurna, and decided to warm up with a quick trip up the North Face of Teng Kang Poche. I was over there a few years ago trying that face, we were rejected due to poor ice, danger and perhaps a lack of understanding about how the Himalaya worked. Make that a definite lack of understanding about the biggest mountain range in the world.
Ueli Steck just emailed me--he and Simon Anthamatten sent the face in three days, alpine style. A PROUD send and likely one of the bigger hard routes in the Himalaya. Congratulations to both of them!
Now I don't feel obligated to one day go back. It's a weird sense of relief mixed with respect and pride for my friends, and a bit of, "Dang, wish I'd done that!" They did the line in the very best possible style, something we didn't think we could do in the conditions we had. More likely, we lacked the commitment to gamble as hard as Ueli and Simon, as well as the outrageous fitness the Swiss are running (I saw that fitness last fall when they were living in my basement for a few weeks, yeah!).
There are moments in life when things are right for going big, and I'll always feel a little regret that I couldn't create such a moment with my team in Nepal. On the other hand we didn't die on the face, and it's a beautiful spring day here in Canmore. These are the things we balance as climbers, and I firmly believe it's better to run away and keep climbing for a long time than to push when the vibe isn't there. It does make my decision from years ago feel "right" when Simon and Ueli do such a good job, somehow this just makes sense to me. The line has been tried a lot with all kinds of tactics, to see it get done in the best possible style is very cool. It also confirms that my initial dream of going at it fast and light was possible; I started to think of other alternatives given the dangers we saw, so better for it to be done well the first time in my mind.
Now go big on Annapurna Team Swiss, but always leave a little room so you can come back to Canmore and beat around here with the old guy one day in the future.
Best,
WG
Monday, April 28, 2008
Monday, April 21, 2008
Climbing area review
I am so psyched to climb that I can barely stand it. My knee is totally jacked (meniscus tear) which makes it a little more difficult, but the rest of my body is good so I've been out on the ice a bit (yep, it's still ice time here in the Rockies!) but mainly hitting various climbing gyms around North America as I've had to travel a bunch lately for paragliding clinics, speaking, a TV show and some other stuff. I look forward to climbing in new gyms almost as much as new crags. Here are some "mini" reviews of a few of the gyms I've been into lately:
Joe Rockhead's, Toronto:
I first climbed here almost 20 years ago with the owners, the Bergman's, and it's gotten better since then for sure. I was in town for a TV show (CBC's "Test the Nation," which was a bit weird), and ended up taking two fellow contestants, both Olympic medalists, along with me for the pump. The curler did slightly better than the speed skater (his legs were a definite disadvantage!), but both had talent and had a great time. Introducing people to climbing is just fun. Anyhow, Rockhead's has good bouldering, good lead climbing, good lighting, decent ventilation. A good spread of problems, and good training facilities for any level of climber. Nice to see Brian still at after all these years, yeah! My only complaint with this gym involved the front desk staff; maybe it's a Toronto thing, but surly staff seemed the norm around the city. The guys working in the gym were great, and I ended up doing a demo climb for a local high school group. How cool is it have a high school PE class in the climbing gym?!
Portland Rock Gym, Portland:
I used to hang a bit with the owner way back in the day, and ended up getting a savage pump with Gary. For some reason I'm always psyched to see other "lifers" still at the climbing game with the same level of enthusiasm as we had 20 years ago. I was flying in and out of Portland for about ten days (family in Hood River and speaking/clinics elsewhere), so I hit the gym up about four times while heading to and from the airport. This gym had the best bouldering of any gym I've been in recently, lots of variety in the problems and excellent modern route setting. There's a good lead scene too, but I never tied into a rope, the bouldering was just too much fun! You can tell there are some seriously strong climbers setting problems here, but even the "V0" problems were well-set in general. I especially liked the mantle problem--it starts with a big dyno, and I thought I was done when I hit the rail finally. Then a local helpfully pointed out that it kept going with a clean mantle onto the rail... Doh! Super good scene, motivated but not pretentious, I often wound up bouldering with a new crew of friendly locals. The natural and electric lights are really nice, this is just a first-class operation.
Vertical World and Stone Gardens, Seattle:
I was teaching a paragliding clinic in Seattle and wound up staying for a couple of extra days so I got to climb in both of Seattle's major gyms. They are very different; Vertical World (VW) is focused primarily on lead climbing, while Stone Gardens has OK roped climbing but the bouldering is definitely better. I found the lead route-setting at Vertical World to be fully retro; part of it is that most of the holds were new in about 1995 or so, but the movement tended to be jerky with minimal footholds--classic "early 90s" setting. One of the fastest ways to tell what era a gym is setting in is to look at the number of footholds compared to the number of handholds; a good setter will often use about twice as many small footholds as handholds. I think the person who really figured this out was Mike Pont, head setter at Paradise in Denver in the 90s. His routes really flowed and often felt like real rock. The grades at Vertical World also redefine "sandbag;" I have fun doing a psychological profile of route setters based on their routes, and I got the sense that the route setters were super strong and younger but likely hadn't been climbing for more than a half decade, and that there wasn't a strong "knowledge transfer/training" program for the setters. I told my profile to my partner, and she said that was about right. One 11c was much closer to 12c. Grades shouldn't matter (it's plastic, right?) but they do. Most of the climbers in Vertical World also tended to be older and primarily interested in training for "outside" climbing. Temperatures were also tropical, but you can't take your shirt off. I don't take my shirt off to expose my fish-belly body to other climbers, I take it off 'cause it's HOT. I considered getting a sports bra and a thong to meet the dress code, but Christian Griffith couldn't hit Fedex in time for me to have some fun with the dress code.
Stone Gardens: This place rocks. Tons of well-set problems on an excellent variety of angles, with some longer traverses and highballs that kept the game interesting. I climbed here twice and met locals both times, there was always a nice "Give 'er!!!" psyche with no attitude. SG definitely has really good bouldering structures; the more I climb in gyms the more I think terrain is at least as important as setting. Without both the gym won't be "great." Gym design has come a long way in the last 15 years, a well-designed bouldering area would look a lot like SG's. But without modern setting and holds even good terrain won't make for a good bouldering experience. You can take your shirt off in SG too. I had two psycho bouldering sessions here, the kind where you walk out with your skin blown and your head hanging loosely 'cause you're too pounded to hold it up. If I lived in Seattle I'd be pretty happy with this gym.
I'm finally back home, and went out to Marble Canyon yesterday. I did a nice long mixed pitch that started with a few bolts of overhanging grunting before a run-out thin ice section into some really cool pillars. It was brutal to pull so hard while cold, and I had the usual "This is NEVER going to work" feeling as I pulled off the ground on the mixed start. But I had some power from the month's bouldering and locked off, reached a few times and then got a super cool stick into the side of a two-inch thick "pipe" of ice. I love that sort of thin ice move, and it was reasonably safe. The next 15 feet of thin ice might have had bolts hidden under the ice but I couldn't see them, it was suddenly pretty real and I was pumped. Tick, tick, gentle, smooth, and that first full-depth "Thunk!" stick, loved it. Wicked! EJ stayed calm on the belay, and the rest of the route was just super fun. EJ did his first grade 5 lead which was super fun to watch, and it was an all-around fine day of climbing. Now I'm gonna say something "stupid:" I've had as much fun climbing in the gyms as that day in Marble. I love fighting through the, "I can't do that!" feeling whether it's on a plastic mantle or a run-out thin ice section, it's all the same game and I love it. I have no good reason for why I'm still fired up to climb rock, ice, plastic or whatever, I just like going up. May your spring involve going UP!
WG
Joe Rockhead's, Toronto:
I first climbed here almost 20 years ago with the owners, the Bergman's, and it's gotten better since then for sure. I was in town for a TV show (CBC's "Test the Nation," which was a bit weird), and ended up taking two fellow contestants, both Olympic medalists, along with me for the pump. The curler did slightly better than the speed skater (his legs were a definite disadvantage!), but both had talent and had a great time. Introducing people to climbing is just fun. Anyhow, Rockhead's has good bouldering, good lead climbing, good lighting, decent ventilation. A good spread of problems, and good training facilities for any level of climber. Nice to see Brian still at after all these years, yeah! My only complaint with this gym involved the front desk staff; maybe it's a Toronto thing, but surly staff seemed the norm around the city. The guys working in the gym were great, and I ended up doing a demo climb for a local high school group. How cool is it have a high school PE class in the climbing gym?!
Portland Rock Gym, Portland:
I used to hang a bit with the owner way back in the day, and ended up getting a savage pump with Gary. For some reason I'm always psyched to see other "lifers" still at the climbing game with the same level of enthusiasm as we had 20 years ago. I was flying in and out of Portland for about ten days (family in Hood River and speaking/clinics elsewhere), so I hit the gym up about four times while heading to and from the airport. This gym had the best bouldering of any gym I've been in recently, lots of variety in the problems and excellent modern route setting. There's a good lead scene too, but I never tied into a rope, the bouldering was just too much fun! You can tell there are some seriously strong climbers setting problems here, but even the "V0" problems were well-set in general. I especially liked the mantle problem--it starts with a big dyno, and I thought I was done when I hit the rail finally. Then a local helpfully pointed out that it kept going with a clean mantle onto the rail... Doh! Super good scene, motivated but not pretentious, I often wound up bouldering with a new crew of friendly locals. The natural and electric lights are really nice, this is just a first-class operation.
Vertical World and Stone Gardens, Seattle:
I was teaching a paragliding clinic in Seattle and wound up staying for a couple of extra days so I got to climb in both of Seattle's major gyms. They are very different; Vertical World (VW) is focused primarily on lead climbing, while Stone Gardens has OK roped climbing but the bouldering is definitely better. I found the lead route-setting at Vertical World to be fully retro; part of it is that most of the holds were new in about 1995 or so, but the movement tended to be jerky with minimal footholds--classic "early 90s" setting. One of the fastest ways to tell what era a gym is setting in is to look at the number of footholds compared to the number of handholds; a good setter will often use about twice as many small footholds as handholds. I think the person who really figured this out was Mike Pont, head setter at Paradise in Denver in the 90s. His routes really flowed and often felt like real rock. The grades at Vertical World also redefine "sandbag;" I have fun doing a psychological profile of route setters based on their routes, and I got the sense that the route setters were super strong and younger but likely hadn't been climbing for more than a half decade, and that there wasn't a strong "knowledge transfer/training" program for the setters. I told my profile to my partner, and she said that was about right. One 11c was much closer to 12c. Grades shouldn't matter (it's plastic, right?) but they do. Most of the climbers in Vertical World also tended to be older and primarily interested in training for "outside" climbing. Temperatures were also tropical, but you can't take your shirt off. I don't take my shirt off to expose my fish-belly body to other climbers, I take it off 'cause it's HOT. I considered getting a sports bra and a thong to meet the dress code, but Christian Griffith couldn't hit Fedex in time for me to have some fun with the dress code.
Stone Gardens: This place rocks. Tons of well-set problems on an excellent variety of angles, with some longer traverses and highballs that kept the game interesting. I climbed here twice and met locals both times, there was always a nice "Give 'er!!!" psyche with no attitude. SG definitely has really good bouldering structures; the more I climb in gyms the more I think terrain is at least as important as setting. Without both the gym won't be "great." Gym design has come a long way in the last 15 years, a well-designed bouldering area would look a lot like SG's. But without modern setting and holds even good terrain won't make for a good bouldering experience. You can take your shirt off in SG too. I had two psycho bouldering sessions here, the kind where you walk out with your skin blown and your head hanging loosely 'cause you're too pounded to hold it up. If I lived in Seattle I'd be pretty happy with this gym.
I'm finally back home, and went out to Marble Canyon yesterday. I did a nice long mixed pitch that started with a few bolts of overhanging grunting before a run-out thin ice section into some really cool pillars. It was brutal to pull so hard while cold, and I had the usual "This is NEVER going to work" feeling as I pulled off the ground on the mixed start. But I had some power from the month's bouldering and locked off, reached a few times and then got a super cool stick into the side of a two-inch thick "pipe" of ice. I love that sort of thin ice move, and it was reasonably safe. The next 15 feet of thin ice might have had bolts hidden under the ice but I couldn't see them, it was suddenly pretty real and I was pumped. Tick, tick, gentle, smooth, and that first full-depth "Thunk!" stick, loved it. Wicked! EJ stayed calm on the belay, and the rest of the route was just super fun. EJ did his first grade 5 lead which was super fun to watch, and it was an all-around fine day of climbing. Now I'm gonna say something "stupid:" I've had as much fun climbing in the gyms as that day in Marble. I love fighting through the, "I can't do that!" feeling whether it's on a plastic mantle or a run-out thin ice section, it's all the same game and I love it. I have no good reason for why I'm still fired up to climb rock, ice, plastic or whatever, I just like going up. May your spring involve going UP!
WG
Monday, March 10, 2008
Wapta in a day: chasing the "A.M.s"
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.
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.
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
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