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I just took the longest time off of climbing that I have in the past three years. I think it ended up totaling at something a little over a month, which I know gets a bunch of ooohh’s and aaawww’s from the regular populace. But for me it was a really long time and it was weird, it was different, and it was also kinda nice. The process of getting back in shape is not so nice. The first days go fine. You decide to bury all ego, and you really don’t care when you get spit off a route you figured you’d always be able to warm up on even flu ridden and maimed. It’s really more like two weeks in that sucking really starts to take its toll. You don’t completely suck anymore, but you’re not where you used to be, and well you’re sick of burying your ego. Luckily the day that follows that day is the day when all the effort you put into sucking on a route the day before has actually warranted you enough strength to fight your way to another rad route, which up until you clipped the chains you thought you had no chance in hell of doing. And then you remember why you’re trying to get better at this in the first place. And it’s really nice.

        Here are some pics that don’t really do justice to Horne Lake, the place we’ve been climbing at on Vancouver Island. Tufas and steep, juggy climbing have been perfect for finger injury recuperation. We have a dope set up here, thanks to Steve Townsend, and will probably stick around for a few more days before heading to Squamish.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Going on the road does something to a person. Two things really, there’s a sense of freedom with the open road the endless choice of destinations. But then there’s this odd slavery to the all options. Sometimes there seems to be too many, and choosing the right one seems impossible. I feel like an over privilege college kid who can’t make a choice because really they don’t have to survive. They have every possibility floating in front of them. It’s like I need a smack in the face to see that making a decision it’s really the beginning or ending or anything, it’s just part of the whole shibang.

     This last week has been a harsh jolt of reality, and serious blow to face that makes me feel like any stupid indecision I’ve had over the last few days is nothing short of utter stupidity. Two climber’s bodies were found in an avalanche in China and third is believed to have perished. I knew Micah Dash pretty well and can’t quite grasp the idea that he’s just not here anymore. It’s a strange feeling, one that I can only imagine is indescribable to these climber’s closest friends and family. It’s hard with climbers because these people were doing what loved and taking such risk knowing the possible consequences. They really lived life in a different sense than those who always stay in their comfort zones. This kind of life is what they thrived on. I think we can only keep living our lives making our choices and living them out in the fullest just the way these guys did. There’s no room for regret, and life is too short to not soak up every minute of it. Johnny Copp, Micah Dash, and Wade Johnson you will be terribly missed and never forgotten.  RIP.