The Dirtbag Dad

Largo and the Bird: The Last Interview

The rush and crush of this Type A glorifying culture alternately can put you unto either a manic, frenzied, high energy state or can lock you down into a fog of numbness and blithering social media ramblings. Or worse. Yet, every now and then, you are jerked from this modern, material-world schizophrenia by something that wakes you up like a stiff cup of joe on an icy backcountry morning. 

I'd been meaning to watch this John Long (Largo) interview with Jim Bridwell (the Bird) for going on a year. Today, I finally saw the light and gave 15 minutes over to it. Fifteen minutes well spent. More actually, since I rewound at certain points to make sure I had clearly understood the line of the Bird's story.

From John Long's introduction to this short film on Adidas Outdoor: 

Jim had an appointment for dialysis treatment in 30 minutes so we had little time. With no planning or prep, we hastily set up cameras in Jim's back yard and I (John Long) started asking him questions. Jim immediately went to questionably the most controversial event in climbing history: Cesare Maestri's purported 1970 ascent of the Compressor Route on Cerro Torre, in Patagonia. The day following this interview, Jim, critically ill from Hepatitis C, dropped into a coma. And one of the seminal figures in modern adventure sports passed away soon thereafter.

Between these two characters, there is 110% guaranteed gripping and compelling storytelling. This one is priceless. Bridwell is in top "balls to the wall" form right up to the very end.

I'm grateful to have as friends several individuals who knew Jim well. And I'm also grateful to have heard him speak in person a couple of times over the years. He and Mark Twight are amongst the finest climbing-oriented speakers I've encountered. His Cerro Torre Compressor Route story is as spot on in this interview as it was when I first heard it over 20 years ago.

If you really want a deep, deep, comprehensively researched and clearly laid out dive into Maestri's and other Cerro Torre climbs, check out the overly humble but never overly hilarious Kelly's Cordes' masterpiece The Tower: A Chronicle Of Climbing And Controversy On Cerro Torre.

By the way: FYI folks—the original Type A's are the ones prone to heart attacks!

My Dad Wasn't a Climber

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 Classic Optimus 8r

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.

Cheyne Lempe, the Enormocast, Climbing, Expeditions, & Anxiety

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!

 

With Gratitude to All The Teachers

Great post by Brendan Leonard about a teacher who really helped guide Brendan on his journey:

Those Who Can Change Lives, Teach

I have been very fortunate to have had a bunch of them:

• John Knowles (2nd grade, Worcester New School)
• Paul Bedard (4th and 5th grade, Abbott Street School)
• John Scarborough (Clark University, showed me the way of Odysseus)
• Hope Abisamra (10th grade, pushed me to go beyond my writing comfort zone)
• Margaret Looney (12th grade, further writing encouragement)
• The entire Classical and Oriental Studies Department at Brandeis University in the early 1980's—all were superb.
• Irving Schwartz—a friend of mine who also happened to marry my Mom—opening my eyes to many new worlds since I was 13.
• Dave Bengston and Doug Nidever: masters of the climbing spirit.
• Marnie Greer, Fiona Cole, Jeanne Heilleman: my yoga guides

Thank you!

How Did I Get Into This Mess, Anyway?

My journey toward climbing

In the early 90's I was doing a lot of solo backpacking in the Sierra. I was gravitating toward non-trail hiking and peak bagging. Some of that peak bagging was starting to get a little "airy" for me (if you know climbing grades, this was probably 2nd or 3rd class terrain at best). So I decided I needed to get some more skill so I'd feel more confident.  Then I'd be able to decide better about what I was getting myself into.

My pal and I played hooky from work a few times and took a bunch of classes at the Yosemite Mountaineering School over a spring and summer. On a lightly rainy April day in 1994, guide Doug Nidever showed us how to boulder on these invisible (to me at the time) "rugosities and nubbins" that make up the surface of Yosemite granite. What the heck, it worked! Next day, Dave Bengston (now head of the Mountaineering School) showed us different kinds of crack-climbing techniques and some very basic anchoring. Then he took us up our first real technical climb: Oak Tree Flake and Bay Tree Flake linked together 

I was hooked.  The view was sublime and I realized that very few people, relatively, ever got to see Yosemite Valley from that vantage point.  Many thanks to Doug and Dave, even though they have no idea who I am at this point.

A Quick Post for the Road

I'm heading out for a week in Yosemite Valley tomorrow (with a way-station of a couple of days with my brother-in-law in Fresno). I'll be participating in Facelift (my second time), an annual event where you get to clean up the valley. This mostly involves walking around one of the most beautiful places on earth picking up trash. No worries, we get issued Orang-a-Tongs: orange grabbers that are capable of easily picking up miniscule amounts of trash (usually toilet paper!). It's a lot of fun (really!) and it's quite rewarding on multiple levels.

In the evenings there are great programs and connecting with other friends (new and old) from the climbing community. The great thing about climbing is that you can very easily and regularly hang out with the giants of climbing. I'm talking Kobe Bryant level here folks. But without the entourage and the attitude. Note that the giants of climbing don't make the Kobe bucks; they are usually living in vans (not down by the river... unless it's a choice bivy spot).

I'll have the mobile posting station with me. With a bit of luck, I may actually get something out. It's going to be fun. I'm not sure exactly how (there are always delightful surprises), but you can count on it. I know it in my bones.

On Climbing and Meditation (and Other Acts of Presence)

"There are few experiences more grounding or more peaceful than walking through snowfall in the dark."  That resonating line was written by Mark Jenkins, a climber and writer.  He excels at both. 

Below is the piece from which that line comes.  He wrote it a while back and it's stayed with me.  Mark describes an experience with meditation and climbing that would be uncanny if it were not so commonplace.  You can insert "running," "kayaking," "cooking," "golf," etc. for "meditation."  Any activity that puts you in a present state of mind will do.  Cleaning the house does it for me as well.  Of course, I completely share his connection with climbing and meditation.

Out Of His Mind

 

Coming soon: Dirtbag? Dirtbag Dad? What the Heck is That?

You probably know what a dad is (if not, you might need to seek immediate help!).  You may even know what a dirtbag is.  But what is a dirtbag dad?  I'm not entirely sure myself; it's a bit of a moving target at this point.  Or better: an evolving target.  I'm going to try to explore all this in a future post.  

First, though, we've got to recover from our kick-ass Laguna Beach vacation last week and prepare for our upcoming eastern Sierra camping trip this coming week. Then it's back to school (already) and perhaps more of a regular routine.

Belated Reflections on Fathers Day

A variation on a post I made to the Supertopo forums (Happy Father's Day):

Today, as a father of four, I'm turning the tables and expressing my gratitude for my kids. It's a privilege to be their dad and I feel very lucky to have them in my life. Today is a great time to acknowledge that.

My own father is a complex guy. His interest in being outdoors and backpacking inspired me to start backpacking; and, that in turn, lead me to this wacky, beloved climbing world. He's currently lost somewhere in America now. I hope he's found his peace; the door is always open. He just has to walk through it. If he wants to... and if he can.

I'm grateful for what my father has given me, no doubt. At his own initiative, he was present at my birth (and my brothers') at a time when it was considered medically dangerous to have a father present at delivery (good grief!). My parents searched far and wide for a hospital that would allow the father to be present. I have most of the letters they wrote (and replies received) in search of a hospital, including one from the head of the Yale medical school stating such an idea was absolutely out of the question. I always wanted to find that guy and show it to him, though he's probably long gone by now.

Anyway, they eventually found an enlightened Seventh Day Adventist Hospital in Stoneham, Massachusetts that was fine with his presence (except for an anesthesiologist that almost has to be punched out!). Mayhem was averted and all was well. My dad was there and he got to see me enter this world. That presence, so long ago, has had a hugely positive impact on me, both as a son and as a father.