85. Fricks, Chicks and Pics The wonderful and subtle art of self motivation

We seem to delight in entertaining the fortuitous folly that we are the sage and sovereign rulers of our will.  That we, as humans, can choose some random and seemingly insurmountable obstacle, to pit oneself against, and by sheer shit dogged tenacity, we can kick whatever goals we wish. 

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Attempting to kick goals.  The classic Dance Me Outside 12a

We love to indulge in our society’s classic myth; that any self starter with bucket load of personal drive and a little bit of luck, can and will, achieve any ambition they set themselves to.  This obviously ignores reality, the truth that the world is fraught with systemic social and genomic norms of inequality.  It sucks, but it is reality.

Poet William Henley famously wrote “I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.”  Despite this, he had TB and was periodically losing legs, and more to my point, went on to inspire the classic, Treasure Island character Long John Silver, thus leaving the indelible mark of being the only Victorian Poet to further America’s long lasting love affair with fast food fish and chips.  Fact.  I shit you not, look it up.  Amazing, I know.  The take home lesson here is thus; fate does as it pleases, we don’t master it.  However, sure as shit, we humans have a wonderfully admirable trait; that we can and will, trick ourselves into thinking we have control.  For that matter, we can trick ourselves into just about anything.  Magic sky friend comes to mind. 

IMG_1028Along those lines, we surely will find that “self motivation,” is a merely marvellously clever ruse we lay upon ourselves, and consequently we can frame “it” any way we want. However, if we drop kick the beast of self motivation, and tackle it straight, we can devise certain dubious wisdom.

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Fred cruising the perfect ice in Kicking Horse Canyon

How do I up my self motivation game and kick all my life/mountain related goals, you ask?

I propose, the factual and fundamentally Darwinian based motivations of “Fricks, Chicks, and Pics”,

High Fricks…  Short hand for the devious, but ever pursued “Friction.”  It represents what perfection.  All the objective obstacles are removed.   It’s climbing in autumn’s cold crisp dry weather. Friction is all time, it’s hard to fall off them sloppy crimps. We’re talking green light, zero humidity, we are talking all time.  Conditions are perfect, beyond perfect. 

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White out in Hidden Bowl… Well, Shit.  Motivation Low.

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High Viz and untouched in Hidden Bowl… Perfect.  Motivation High

This is the shit of legends, like skiing blue bird days of fresh soft plush powder, avi danger zero, and the soft stunning light that comes near the end of long days. In real life, it’s easy to quit trying and let the motivation die.  All you need is a day of the drizzly misery which nature is more than happy to provide.  Nevertheless, there will inevitably come the rare rapturous day when everything is perfect.  You find yourself in an position to freely pursue whatever purpose you’ve chosen.

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Grassi lakes steep  Holy Shit 11c

At this point, when nature, for once, seems to be on your side, and everything comes together, and you find yourself unable to slay dragons. Well then… then you are, straight up, shit out of luck.  You are doomed to a life of goals unkicked.

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Training session with the Skull of Destiny!

2) Chicks…  Or, to avoid gender exclusivity, any attractive member of the opposite sex. 

Nothing promotes “trying hard”, like attempting to show your physical prowess to the other gender.  Anyone who’s been to a climbing gym can attest to this effect, I think we’ve all seen some pretty intense levels of effort put on to impress others (whether it’s an effective method with which to impress, remains highly debated). Personally, as a seasoned self motivator, when I climb I generally endeavour to surround myself with a pack of naughty she-huskies (actually in all moments of my life). Try it, we’ve got millions of years of evolution backing this system, you won’t regret it.  Goals will be kicked.

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Kieran impressing the ladies

3) Pics… Nothing ruins a photo shoot like getting stuck at the first bolt.   

The goal of any modern sports enthusiast is to take the most intense moments of our lives, and interrupt them to capture our latest profile picture.  Truly, no nobler goal exists.  Now you can’t have profile photos that contain the climbing of grades well within your ability. 

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Everyone knows, to impress the internet, there’s nothing wrong with a little misleading deciption.  It’s all about displaying photos that may or may not reflect your actual ability, but reflect you in a favourable light… and to be honest, first bolt photos just won’t cut it.  So you’ll need to tap into  that herculean effort and hit that third bolt, and with that, hit high societal gaols, and acquire that perfect profile pic.

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Cameras out.  Time to crank out some pull ups!

So there it is, all you need to kick your climbing up a notch.  Follow my lead, harness your inner narcissism, and embrace motivation by tapping into Frics, Chicks and Pixs.  The time is now, get off your butt.  Surround yourself with beautiful people, pack your camera, head out in in perfect weather and kick some goals. 

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Big lou performing for the Chicks and Pics!

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Also, this is what happens when you roll a truck down a mountain until something stops it.   Take home message, you can’t kick goals if your dead.  So drive Safe!

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Ice climbers will like this.  His inbox is still up at work in Prince George.  What a legend.

84. This happened; Recap Edition

Ok… here’s a quick break down of what a dirt bags year can look like.

This took about 5 months… so that all of the fun can happen.  Arrived back in the Bow Valley at just that hell of a time when the world is too cold for rock climbing, but to hot for ice climbing.   I had to make due.

IMG_6553This route is Swiss Cheese…. it’s a dry tool route originally graded M11.  Planting makes you so skinny, that after months of not climbing, I did this route on my third try.   Petzl take note.  My new thing is to rule the “off the couch” climbing scene.

Then this happened…IMG_6738

Snow… a lot of it.  So I had to make due.

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We did a lot of snow walking… so we could do this

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And it just kept coming… so I suffered on

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I was so brave…

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After a lot of that… managed a bit of this.

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Then for some reason I don’t yet truly understand… this happened… for free… my life rules

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Then it was Christmas… and I was stuck with these crappy skiers.  So I ate lots of bacon while they tried to learn to ski normal.

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Notice the poor body position… leaning to far back.

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This one is just straight up facing the wrong way…

Today this happened… Steep snow walking

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…but it happened for this

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I continue to suffer…  I’m sure you’re all sympathetic towards my plight.

Anyway, gonna get back on the blogging train… Petzl, take note!

83. Zen and the art of being crusty

Well, it’s been some 4 months that I’ve been lost to working in the bush.  It was as per usual a glorious harrowing joy.   No other experience can assuage ones need for escape from this barbaric slaughter house we call modernity, as the sound prescription of awe for the natural world, combined with a soothing amount of self induced punishment.  Yes, punching yourself in the nuts and climbing also fills that void… but, as far as I can tell, that’s about it.

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Rich making it happen in Owens

However, these episodic escapes from the comforts of life do not leave you without imparting their own indelible mark.  That mark, is the glorious self induced quality we call; crustiness.   

Crustiness; it’s more then a excellent ideal, a fine veneer of crustiness should be the goal of every climbers and outdoors persons career.  That, and if you’re a man, growing a sweet beard.

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Slightly further along in making it happen

Here’s why crustiness is so good.

#1.  It’s that point, when you can stand up on top of rock, knowingly look off into the middle distance and say in a slow drawl “weathers turning”, and everyone else nods submitting with awe to your superior meteorological knowledge, of which it is assumed you’ve gained by intimate connection with the natural world through hard living and punching bears in the face.

#2.  Crustiness is also important in all social situations.  Attaining crustiness gives you many an advantage over your average outdoorsperson/climber;  your tired bleary-eyed morning stare will often be mistaken for perceived wisdom, when in fact it reflects a crippling need for caffeination. 

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Naked ski patrol… probably the best photographer experience I’ll ever have.

#3.  It reflects an ability to give zero fucks about suffering, an important step towards transcendence and bondage.

#4.  Lastly and possibly most importantly, it allows you to cut through the piles of bullshit,  that those lacking an appropriate level of crust, often exude.  Some people (who lack crustiness) may perhaps, in reference to climbing, say shit like “it’s moving mediation for my soul”,  and then post photos of them engaging in some sort of whimsical limb tearing yoga with lots of scarves in an alpine environment, this will inevitably be hash tagged #blessed.  Crusty people would never do this, crusty people would have the appropriate reaction to these kind of things, which is a visceral response that may include puking up in ones mouth and then doing something awesome whilst giving zero fucks.  And if so inclined would finish there day with mountain top yoga, cause they can.  Crusty folk are a quirky breed.   

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Crux grrring in Red Rocks

Now you might be thinking, aren’t crusty people just assholes?!!  But alas no, there is a fundamental difference .  Both have the feeling of entitlement that allows them to spew their outspoken cantankerous point ,of view.   The difference is crustiness is like wisdom, earned through suffering, hardship and drop kicking adversity in balls.  Assholes are in contrast, are just assholes.

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Reaching this state of crustiness, you can to transition from the shit eating joy of youth to the higher art form of grizzled crust.  Truly this should be everyones goal, the step up from transcends, Maslovs hierarchy 6th step.  If you believe in yourself and do your best to include unbearable and pointless suffering in your day to day life , you too can be crusty… or some bullshit like that.

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The kind of nonsense that goes down from bush crustiness

82. Upgrading to success

For Sale…
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Ultimate Ice Axes of ultimate destiny! Colloquially known as the BD Viper. These weapons of mass destruction are the strong mans tool of choice. With the ability to displace vast amounts of ice, they offer an experience those of the utmost physical burl and mental robustness crave. If you need to pre-emptively shut down a russian revolution, or bash the sweet mercy Jersus out of the local classics, this is the instrument for the job! They are the veritable Excalibur of axes.

Now these particular tools are experienced, which might sound to the untrained ear as “used to shit”, but lets reframe that. Just like a new sex partner, you want ice tools that know what they’re doing. It’s simply safer that way. These axes have seen things! And they’re not fazed! Honey Badgers of the ice world! They’ve frozen their tuckass in Norway, slammed around all the Rockies classics, FA’d all across the maritimes, and even repelled intruders from a poorly thought out evening in Bangkok. I guarantee these tools won’t let you down.

Also these are multi-purpose. They double as Back Scratchers! Got an itch, that reading 50 shades of grey just can’t scratch. Well these Back Scratchers can deal with all sorts of freaky itches.

Of note… They come with an extra fucking pick! How sweet is that!?! No charge!
You might ask yourself, “Why, are those sexy ass tools of ultimate destiny covered in green bike tape?”… Because; 1) Hipsters love the colour choice! 2) It insulates the tool on those especially cold days! 3) It is so grippy, you couldn’t possibly fall off due to loss of grip. Literally, you’ll stick to these tools!

Now you think?! “These tools are amazing! Why could he possibly be selling them?!” Well, it hurts to say, but I’m getting old and soft. I can no longer handle the magnificent destructive power of these ice axes. I’m being forced to be a bitch and go Nomic. Help a brother out?!
350?!
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Getting after it in the meowtains…
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Sheri (member of team Xtreme) cruises up the ultra classic This House of Sky, 500m’s of WI3

So, I’ve had what in the lives of most mere mortals would be considered the best possible month of ones life. As I’ve recently retired, and with this new found retirement, I’ve manage to spend almost every single day, doing something awesome.

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Nette making his way up pitch 2 of Louise Falls WI4+

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The joy of Ski Touring

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Charging!

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Charging more!

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Why so much Charging!?

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Tree Charging!

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Charging through the air?!! This isn’t safe!?!

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Flat Charging!

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More Flat Charging! On the way to Bow Falls

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Topping out Grotto Falls WI3

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Thin Conditions in +5C

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Different schools of thought on how to prep for a hard lead?!

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Topping out in the Ghost Wilderness Area

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Time to Charge relaxing!

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Charging Food!!

81. Gettin’ after it…

 

10338531_10152586963446843_912471047078375609_oDirt bag livin’… no more!  Ok… well, probably some more.  It’s hard to break old habits.

So, I haven’t written for a while. This is because I’ve been busy driving around the continent pretending to be getting after it…. and mostly just being lazy. This is secretly what most dirtbag climbers do. Cats of out of the bag. Now, why someone would put a cat in a bag is another matter.

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Anyway, went to the desert and met up with some trouble makers. Butts were kicked, loved it. Matt wrote about it with the articulation one would assume of an academic warrior poet of his prowess.

Check him out here  http://journeytoalpinism.com/2014/12/12/trip-report-indian-creek/

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Tower of the desert variety

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Artsy as shit, hipsters be jealous.

Then I went to Vegas.

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The thing about the city of vice is they’ve got temptation dialled in.   Whenever you top out, you’re tired and hungry.   But when you top out, you can always spot the strip!  “Come on Jamie, screw climbing, let’s have some fun!”

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Instead we woke up ungodly early and climbed some bigger objectives.

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Lots of climbing, stuck ropes, and general adventure.

Then after a bit I ended up here. It is a kind of nowhere, famous for nothing at all and has an appeal because of just that.

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This is Yellowknife, it was -40C.  It’s about 4000km straight North of Vegas.

So for the first time in 4 years of wandering I’ve settled down in one place for a bit. I live indoors and shower semi regularly. I don’t yet regret it. I generally try to live without regret. This stemming from the knowledge that if one lives with regret, you’ll end up like a crazy old man who yells at kids running across his lawn, yelling things like “hey kids, no running across this lawn”.  Anyway it’s only been a month and the lawn is tiny.

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This is just down the road from my house.  I could probably walk there if I wasn’t so lazy.

From this base I hope to endure cold frosty hell which is the beauty of the Canadian winter. I’ve got a touring set up, ice gear, and too much time on my hands. Only good can come of this.

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First pitch of the mega classic Guinness Gully WI4 in Field, BC.

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Marble Canyon… not the famous one in Utah.

 

80. Leaf peepin’ and such

IMG_3447Nathan making moves on one of Nova Scotias newest/raddest new sport routes… sandbagged 1oc NS style, 11b everywhere else.

Fact: I’m a goal setter
Fact: My goals are usually stupid

Here are some of my goals;
1) Discover a new species of megafauna
2) Ride a killer whale into battle
3) Climb the Sentinel Tower
I’ve recently kicked off two of my long standing goals. You can be sure whimsy and delight ensued.

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Just up from Lake Louis… tower on left

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Goal #3 kicked…

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Two Headed Grizzly!
I’d like to announce my recent scientific discovery of the first two headed grizzly. The long sought and rumoured creature of lore has emerged in the wilds of BC, and yours truly has the evidence. I anticipate that soon the two headed grizzlies, with their increased brain capacity and general bad assedness will become the new top predator. I for one would like to welcome our new overlords.

Goal #1 kicked…

_MG_1461Tom on Thunderstruck 12a

Anyway… goal #2 remains. But I remain optimistic.  I’m currently back to my leaf peeping ways down in America.  In particular the New River Gorge is has wonderful foliage this time of year.

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Check the shit out of those leaves.  Pretty as all get out.

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Photo Cred to the super talented Aidas Rygelis

Also I lived and worked (gross… I know) on a barge on the Sunshine coast.  It looked like this.

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79. When life gives you lemons…



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You cut that shit up into quarters and gently rest it on the edge of your Gin and Tonic.

Ok, first off I’d like to address my sponsors (Petzl/BD/Rich people/Metolious/Scarpa…), with a big fuck right off. Due to your inability to see my prowess and general amazingness I had to revert to the ways of the common folk and had to exchange my precious time and effort on the accumulation of dollar bills. I believe in the common tongue these are referred to as a job. Gross. I know… I feel so dirty.
The thing is this tragedy was completely preventable. But don’t worry, I am a forgiving sort, you can act now and prevent this calamity from continuing. If you start sending me piles of awesome stuff I’ll let you off the hook and we can make up.

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Krissy attacking her Spicy Elephant 13b

So I’ve escaped the indignity of exchanging my exceptional talents for cash, and can now continue my philanthropic work and volunteer my time to ensuring the betterment of the world…by climbing all the chossiest choss around. Thusly I voyaged back to the Bow Valley to play at climb. Then this shit happened…See below.

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Snow… for mixing into your Gin and Tonic?! But managed to make due anyway. My toughness and bravery know no bounds.

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Ben warming up on his 5.8 proj

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Scooter, the legendary rig pig himself at The Lookout.

Also, because the internet without climbing porn sucks. I’ve added some oldies but goodies…

Folks have been asking what Flatangers is like.  It’s big

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This is what the climbing looks like.  .

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And this…

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The only problem with Norway (besides the exceptionally expensive beer and the endless hateful winter) is you don’t get to dry hump tufas.

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Samantha juicing tufas in Turkey

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Yes, this is the year.  Sponsorship will be mine!  Also, Tanqueray I’d be willing to entertain sponsorship possibilities.

 

78. Home for a rest

 

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Thailand… how lovely!  Evan pulling on Burnt Offering 12a

Sometime I make questionable choices. Ok, rather often, but that’s neither here nor there.
I thought being warm in Bali with nothing to do but surf and ride my motorbike along the sunny shores was just a bit too enjoyable. So, I decided my sojourn about the Earth has taken me away from my beloved Nova Scotia for far to long. Thus, I left the impeccable weather and bikini clad ladies to fly home and catch the last of the dank Canadian winter. It’s a rather rude transition to arrive and immediately suck on the ice cold popsicle of awful which is April in Nova Scotia. Freezing rain appropriately mixed with gale force winds. Classic maritime weather. Sometimes I reflect (generally I find it best to avoid this indulgence) that it is amazing that anyone gets into climbing here.

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Keith topping out Loas most classic 10c multi-pitch

The result has been mixed. I’ve have the opportunity to spend more time inside then I have in several years. Living out of a tent for a few years changes you a bit. There comes a time when you start too miss some of the more inane time burning distractions that fill most peoples lives, like daytime TV and the accompanying long minutes of commercials, predominately extolling the virtues of products who main attribute is the ability to keep ones bowels sleek and mobile. Oh the joys of a sedentary life. On the other hand the weather did briefly clear now and again, giving me the opportune to play with my beloved East coast granite.

IMG_2931This is what it some of it looked like…

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Granite Everywhere…

IMG_2992You may notice there are not holds.

This shoulder breaking move…
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…turns into this move… Amanda working Green Jug V6

Well I’ve battered my body enough that it’s being held together with Tequila, Ibuprofen, duct tape and a faint glimmers of hope, that soon the pain will all stop. Time to take time for recovery. I’m off the deep dark Canadian bush to spend vast amounts of time alone in said deep dark woods and not climb. Minus the absence of climbing, this generally suits me well. I recently realized some positive things about myself: I can still cook a decent frittata, and I hate humans in groups bigger then 8 (further, cats in groups bigger then 8 is also less then desirable). There’s a certain point where a group inevitably descends into assholery. I think it’s at the 8 person mark. I mean, it can fully happen around the 1 person mark, but chances of assholery seem to increase at some critical mass around 8. This is why I spend vast amounts of my time secluded and in the wilds of Northern Canada. You only have to deal with assholery of one’s. Woot!

IMG_2969Again… no holds.  Jeff don’t care

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77. I’m the most prepared at life

IMG_2664Fishing Loas style on the Mekhong

I consider myself witty, handsome, and generally good at things.  Though I have proudly freed myself from the shackles of personal hygiene, I consider myself (despite my odorous nature), someone people generally like to be around.  There are a few realities of dirtbagdom that one generally doesn’t like to face, 1) sometimes it’s trickier than one might hope in attracting members of the fairer sex (maybe the smell?!…nah.) 2) Comparatively to the rest of the non-dirtbags, cleanbags if you will, dirtbags as a matter of fact, are more likely to shit themselves.  It is a fact that having shit in your pants certainly renders you into the category, of someone; people don’t want to be around.  No matter how witty and handsome.

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After a long day of climbing, you sit down around a camp fire with a crew of your fellow dirtbags, cook up the classic staple of noodles and red sauce, and mention how you had a “fart that almost went a little too far today.”   Everyone chuckles a bit.  But watch out.  This is a dangerous comment, as it starts a chain reaction of storytelling of escalating tragedy in which everyone readily admits too some wild circumstance in which they, their partner or some poor friend of theirs, hilariously shit their pants.  These stories are fantastic, fun to tell, but hard to live.  The time my friend was climbing alone in the Peruvian Andes and accidently drank downstream of a dead cow.  The result of which was being so sick, he shit himself multiple times.  Found himself unable to hike, was trapped, alone, and hallucinating that he was conversing with the higher power.  This was wholly disconcerting as he is an adamant atheist.  When he recovered enough to hike out, unbeknownst to him, 4 days had passed.  That the stuff of legend, right there.

IMG_0799I too prefer my deity to maintain a jaunty pose.

There are essentially two points in your life when it’s expected and generally accepted, you get too shit yourself.  We get the joy of diapers and having someone wipe our ass, at the beginning and at the end.  This is something we should all come to embrace.  This is the joyous and heart breaking reality of a human life.

It’s the in between pant shits that are truly disconcerting.   My first encounter with the fun of adult pant shitting was when I was working up in the Yukon in the deep dark of the Canadian bush.  I was working on a soil sampling project looking for gold.  An end of August snow storm rolled in, such that our helicopter support was unavailable, but we still had to work the project.  Day one I got sick.  I had a glorious three day fiasco of projectiles quickly escaping the back end of my body.  As the snow made a clear marker of distance, a 4 foot spray pattern was something I was particularly proud of, granted it was shooting down hill, and against my better judgement I had eaten some of the ptarmigan my co-worker had shot the day before.  Still a record in my books.

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Usually when you shit your pants in those in between times of being, very old or too young, it invariably reflects poor decision making. Watching my partner squirm in our hanging belay, three pitches up a vertical sheet of ice, he conceded that he should be regulating his morning poopies with coffee.  That are just some things you never forget, no matter how much you want to.   Sharing a hanging belay with him as the worst case scenario finally came to fruition is something that still brings tears of laughter to my eyes.

My poor decision making is reflected in my love of meat.  Street meat in particular.  No matter how suspect. A delicious looking stick, filled with meat (well… an indecipherable piece of what appears to have once possibly been…duck?!).  Who can resist?!

IMG_0720Jungle living in Loas.

So I find myself on a climbing/motorbike trip through Loas.  I started outside of Thahkek staying at the Green Climbers Home.  This is place is all that a climbing destination should be.  Good food, good people, epic climbing.  If you like steep limestone in thirty degree weather, this is the place for you.  This place kinda made news a few years ago for making the unfortunate combination of New Years, Alcohol, Fireworks (yup… so fa,r a classically great combo) and thatched roofs.  They sadly burnt themselves down to the ground… happily, they are back now, up and running with new and improved less flammable roofs.  Go there, you won’t regret it.

IMG_0777My trustee chopper… by that I mean unreliable piece of crap with brakes that could be described as, unreliable at best.

Done with climbing for a bit, I started heading North on my chopper.  By chopper, I mean small, yet brave little scooter.  I found myself cruising through the wild combination which is Loas in the dry season.  Poverty and smiling people.  Long empty dirt roads that seem to go forever, yet don’t seem to connect anything. Epic limestone towers and dried out rice paddies.  Oh, and delicious looking roadside bbq’d meat on a stick.

In life there are subtle and disturbing points that are often incredibly difficult to discern between.  Love and hate.  Danger and safety.  A fart and a shit.

I came to a grinding halt on the side of the dirt road, cursed street meat for its devilish deliciousness, and dove for the ditch while pulling my pants down as quickly as possible.  Something more resembling a chocolate milkshake evacuated my body.  At the same moment I look up.  It appears that in my haste, someone didn’t manage to engage the kick stand.  For a moment, my motorbike looks like it will defy gravity and miraculously balance upon itself.  The moment seemed to last forever.  At this point my chopper decided to join me in the ditch.  As I scoot out of the way, it comes to a slow and heartbreaking stop in my chocolate milk shake.  Reality checks in.  How delightful.  Please, kill me now.

IMG_0801I do a quick assessment.  Well, Crap. On the bright side it could be worse, I could have been eviscerated by a pack of wild monkeys and left to die a slow painful death.  I decide, this is indeed slightly better.  I quickly consider suicide, but realise I lack the appropriate weaponry to proceed down that line of reasoning.  My undies are soiled, but I can shed them and my pants are clean enough.  I’ll wash them in the water of the ditch, and dry them off by riding my motorbike real fast.  Life isn’t so bad.  A tiny bit of dignity remains.  I’ll swap out my underwear, and ride on hanging free and easy.  Now this is a good plan.  I’ve got life by the balls again.

IMG_2920I switch out my undies and begin cleaning my pants.  It’s at this point, with my ass hanging out, scrubbing my pants clean, that a concerned Loas citizen, kindly pulls over to investigate what I’m doing in his ditch.  The Loas are a people who love to laugh and tells stories.  Well, based on his pointing, incredible laughter and sheer joy, the sight of my shit covered bike and white ass, will make a good story for him to tell. I consider laying down in the ditch to die.  It’s at this point, with all pretenses of dignity gone, my sense of humor kicks in.  In a disgusted self deprecating kind of way, I begin to share in his laughter and mirth.   A stranger in a foreign country, with no common language, helped me pull my shit covered bike out of the ditch.  We exchanged smiles, and laughs.  I did not escape me that we were both laughing at my expense, at the hilariousness of my pain.  But, if you can’t laugh at yourself, something has to be going a whole lot worse than merely shitting yourself.  I guess it’s just a taste of what I’ll be facing down the road when I call it quits on caring about wiping my own ass, and move into the old folks home.  If I can laugh at it now, I’m sure I’ll be able to laugh at it then.   Being a dirtbag and shitting your pants, it’s just a step in preparing yourself for the realities of life and learning to laugh about it.

IMG_0749Big Caves with rivers through them.

IMG_0800Big caves with flags through them.

IMG_0704I went through Bangkok… this is what’s happening there.

IMG_0705They park funny in Bangkok.

That’s right Petzl/Scarpa/Black Diamond.  I’m now wise as shit.  Get on the ground floor, you could be the sponsoring me right meow!  Now for the love of all that is merciful send me some new shoes!  Pretty please.

IMG_0726This is what 8,000 Kip will get you in Loas.  Or roughly $1.10… ok, perhaps the path to wisdom is an on going one.

 

76. It be hot.

IMG_2548Dank cave bouldering… it’s what you do when it’s too damn hot to live.  At least it’s not in the sun

IMG_2555Devil Monkeys.  Turned evil by the heat?!

IMG_2570Nessa gives a whirl on this 7a+.  DWS a good option when it’s too damn hot for anything else

IMG_2619Granite Bouldering in Koh Tao paradise… if by paradise you mean the hottest place on earth.