But he did provide the inspiration that set me on this journey. Another in the from the Dirtbag Dad origin story series.
My dad was very interested in backpacking. In the early 1970's, he was inspired by Colin Fletcher's The Complete Walker, bought an Optimus Stove, and scads of other gear he found fascinating. It was fascinating to me as well; just as in my younger years had spent vast hours pouring over the toy section of the Sears & Roebuck catalog, so too did I pour over the Eastern Mountain Sports catalog with all of it's inscrutable climbing gear (pitons galore!) and general backpacking goods.
The thing about my dad is this: he was somebody who got deeply interested in something and would make some initial forays into that something; but he would rarely, if ever, follow through and really commit completely to engaging. Instead, he'd find some other new fascination to pursue in the same cycle.
I wanted to do all of these backpacking adventures with him. I remember him getting USGS maps and plotting a hike along the length of the Connecticut River. But planning in the living room was as far as it went. Ironically, the only backpacking I did as a kid was with another friend's dad.
Still, my dad had sown a seed in me, perhaps not intentionally, but still, it came from his modeling behavior. I too read the original edition of Colin Fletcher's The Complete Walker when I was 11 (and continued to read each update as they were published). I dreamed of doing such walks. By the time I was 30, I saw I was in danger of becoming like my dad by "thinking about doing it" instead of "just doing it."
So I pledged to get out at least once a month to the backcountry. I was fortunate to have the Sierra just three or so hours away in those days. I made good on that pledge. I remember my first camping trip, with long day hikes around the Kirkwood Ski area. I even solo-bagged the summit of Round Top (my first 10,000' peak!). I was scared to scramble over the loose 3rd class talus to get to the summit, still reveling in the experience the whole way up.
Soon, necessity (due to lack of partners, social anxiety, and just plain needing to be alone in quiet and expansive places) lead to solo backpacking. This, in turn, lead to an inclination to go off trail and up peaks. Because I wanted to feel safer and competent in such situations, I took a few Yosemite Mountaineering School classes, and it was love at first site. I had come home. And the rest is history...
This remembrance is inspired by my dad's 76th birthday (yesterday). Happy birthday dad, wherever your journey and travels are taking you. I hope you are finding what you've sought out for so long.
Inspired by Was your dad a climber? Or your Mom? Or neither? from Supertopo.com.
In the never ending journey (and why would I want it to end?) to give substance and form to the essence of what a dirtbag dad is, I came across these words attributed to Margaret Mead. Even though they are expressed in a language prevalent around 50 years ago, they still ring true today.
Perhaps, as a young boy in the days that Mead uttered this thought, a seed was planted that became the tree I am today. Still a work in progress, but a good work, well worth continuing to explore and refine:
The male form of a female liberationist is a male liberationist—a man who realizes the unfairness of having to work all his life to support a wife and children so that someday his widow may live in comfort, a man who points out that commuting to a job he doesn't like is just as oppressive as his wife's imprisonment in a suburb, a man who rejects his exclusion, by society and most women, from participation in childbirth and the most engrossing, delightful care of young children—a man, in fact, who wants to relate himself to people and the world around him as a person.
Part of the Dirtbag Dad origin story series.
Beauty 1 Cone from Coulter Pine. About 9" tall. Really cool. Hurts when dropped on head.
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Beauty 2 "God is in the roses and the thorns"
Soulful, wise, and thoughtful lyrics from the amazing Rosanne Cash. Let us not forget the incredible and largely unknowable machinations and/or randomness born of this universe of multiple trillions of 100 million star galaxies. #healingpresencetodayjoypeacebe
Beauty 3 Others' words. Sometimes, I talk too much. Or:
“Never miss an opportunity to shut the fuck up” —Andres Marin, Enormocast Episode 79
"It's the end of the word as we know it and I feel fine." —R.E.M.
"The first question I ask myself when something doesn't seem to be beautiful is why do I think it's not beautiful. And very shortly you discover that there is no reason." —John Cage.
Anne Lamotte on the three forms for all prayers:
- "Help me, help me, help me."
- "Thank you, thank you, thank you."
- "Wow!"
How's that for a long title?
I just finished listening to an episode of one of my top, go-to podcasts: the Enormocast. The Enormocast is focused on climbing. It definitely covers areas most non-climbers won't have any clue as to what being discussed. Yet, to paraphrase its host Chris Kalous, there really isn't anything else to talk about! And even if so, why would anyone even want to talk about something other than climbing? The beauty of Chris is that while talking about only climbing, he manages to cover a lot of other really interesting human aspects within the context of climbing. And he does it quite well.
While this episode with big wall climber Cheyne Lempe is about a big wall expedition to the extremely remote and cold Baffin Island, it's really about a lot more that just the climbing. It touches on journeys, generalized anxiety (as a medical affliction), and quite a few other thought-provoking topics.
I too have generalized anxiety. It’s not been all that long that I’ve been able to name it specifically, but as Cheyne touched upon, it’s been something that’s been part of my journey and growth pretty much my whole life. It’s only recently that I’ve begun to see how it has been at play in the past. Sometimes with mental health disorders, people tend to take a negative view, e.g. “I suffer from x.” I don’t quite see it that way. For me, anxiety can be both my greatest curse and greatest gift. As I’ve become friends with anxiety, gotten to know it better, and really have owned it, I’ve seen how I’ve let it channel me into the abyss of despair and paralysis. But I’ve also seen how it has helped me achieve incredible commanding heights. Much of this is about your brain and how it’s wired. Anxiety people have minds that think a lot… to the point of potentially harmful overthinking! I can use my brain to scare and talk myself out of everyday actions that otherwise could give me immense benefit. Or I can learn to flip the downward spiral and use my mind with all of its thoughts and ideas to spin them into great creations.
One of my favorite observations: A hammer is a tool. In and of itself, it’s neutral. It’s what you use it for that has impact (yeah, bad pun!). You can use a hammer to build a home for someone who really needs a good, safe shelter. Or you can use it to bash their skull in. Same hammer, different outcomes. One good, one bad. The hammer is neither.
If you're interested, check out the www.enormocast.com!