One wedding and a salad

I know.. talking about salad on a saturday night is not the most scintillating of topics, I know. However this ain't no ordinary salad.. no sireee Bob. This salad came out of my first ever vegetable garden. Only a few short weeks ago I was tossing in seeds and not that confident anything was going to come of this endeavour. And there's been hits and misses for sure, I think I accidently dug up the Ice Berg lettuce and the chives look like the most anemic skinny things I've ever seen. However the surviving lettuces of many varieties and the spinach are growing like gangbusters! I cheerfully went out this evening and snip snip snip, I have my organic salad in a bowl. Which was costing me about $5 at Safeway and would usually coagulate into a liquid form in my crisper before being tossed out. I prematurely pulled a bunch of radishes so I'm calling them "baby radishes". Once I saw the little red tops poking out of the ground I couldn't help myself. The baby radishes are in the salad too. I didn't feel confident or knowledgable enough to plant tomatoes, maybe next year when I'm a seasoned veteran. The satisfaction of eating my own home grown food is pretty cool!

Friday I attended my Ex-husband's wedding. I suspect that somewhere in some dusty old rule book section 105 article 37B appendix F, there must be something written that states we must hate, dislike or at the very least feel sad or indifferent towards our ex-spouses. And it would appear that the majority of society follows this edict for a variety of reasons. Darren and I on the other hand actually still like each other. Of course the question arises "Then why aren't you still married?" I don't feel compelled to answer that question. Hell, we all know that relationships end for a good reason other wise they wouldn't end at all. What the rule book suggests is it's way easier to end a relationship on a bad note when there have been hurt feelings, dashed expectations, lies, broken dreams etc etc etc. Maybe so, but not mandatory.

One of the strengths of our 18 year relationship was our friendship and even when we knew our legal union was coming to an end we both agreed that we wanted to try and keep the one thing that had sustained us through the ups and downs of our lives which was this friendship. It wasn't easy and both of us at various times put up with phenonmenal shit from the other. We had our share of screaming matches over the phone and angry letters left in the mail box. But somehow we would come to our senses and find a way to work it out or at least agree to disagree. When Darren met Crystal he was non-commital about it for the longest time but I knew it must be special. I knew he hadn't dated much, but that on some level he's hardwired for relationship. Darren has a finely honed intuitive sense of people so if Crystal was in his life she must be special. And it turns out she is.

I'm sure both her and I were nervous to meet at first. I didn't want to act like an idiot and yet I really did want her to know that Darren and I were only friends and I was completely harmless. And she was nervous that I knew Darren so much better than she did. I was also very relieved to find that I did actually like her. Now don't get me wrong, we aren't all some freaky bestfriends or anything. You won't find us on the Jerry Springer show anytime soon. But on occasion I have enjoyed a glass of wine with them in the backyard. Their dogs know who I am. I was touched to be invited to the wedding, that they were willing to ignore convention and some dissaproval of others enough to have me take part in their day.

I brought my good friend Mick as my date. Not only because he is exceptionally good looking, younger and looks FABULOUS on my arm (evil grin) but because I was nervous about going and I needed someone I trusted in my corner. A friend who could back me up and knew me well enough that if things turned horribly awry he could help. Turns out my fears were groundless. I doubt Crystal's family or friends had any idea who I was. I didn't notice any stares that spoke "What is SHE doing here?" I was very happy to watch one of my best and longest friends stand up and commit himself to a great woman who looked at him like she just won the lottery.

Sometimes we find ourselves in unique situations. Last week I was supporting friends in death and yesterday I had the priviledge to support friends in their new life. When I left the evening I gave Darren a big hug and told him I loved him. He smiled his big grin accompanied by his bear hug and said the same back. I guess that stupid, dusty, old rule book doesn't have a provision for that.

A gathering

Karen McNeill's memorial was in Canmore on Tuesday. I attended, partially to drive my friend Michele back to Calgary, but I was also grateful for the excuse to be there. I'm not sure if I would have gone otherwise because I didn't know Karen very well. I didn't want to be an observer during such a raw time when I wasn't experiencing the same loss as her friends and family. However, having said that, part of me very much wanted to be there, as a fellow climber, as a person who has also lost loved ones, and to support friends if they needed it.

Death is an energy I've chosen to keep close to me through the work I do with Hospice Calgary. I always consider it my ultimate "fuck you" to a force I have absolutely no control over and has wreaked havoc in my own life. A part of me feels that if I'm helping others in some miniscule way to deal with their grief, I'm doing some good. It makes my own grieving over the loss of my sister have some relevance. Otherwise I could think I wasted 7yrs of my life struggling with depression and "complicated grief" as those in the Biz call it. I couldn't make the transition to the "acceptance" phase, no matter how hard I wanted it, hence the complication. I wish someone could have guided me sooner when I was trying to figure it out and not doing so shit hot. I'm happy to report that eventually, even stubborn Lise worked through it with the help of a caring grief counsellor.

Out of that experience emerged a different person. The Buddhists have a word "Bodhichitta" which means the "tender or soft heart". The concept is that compassion is fostered for others when we suffer. Personally I think the buddhists have the market cornered on pain & suffering. The Jews have done a fine job with worry & neurosis and the Catholics are way ahead on guilt & penitence. But really, you can't touch the buddhists for recognizing how hard it can be to be a spirit in human form, taking this crazy ride called LIFE. And they've made it even worse than that. The Jews and the Christians say: "Well at least you only have to do it ONCE". But the Buddhists are like: "Oh no, no, no... no such luck, you get to do this MANY MANY times." Sucks to be us some days (or lifetimes). But I think that's why they've done such a good job on finding methods to reach enlightenment. Eventually, we long to get off the wheel of perpetual Samsara (pain and suffering) and are DAMN ready for Nirvana. I say, HELL ya! But lest you get too excited, it does seem like a ton of hard work to get there. "Ah but grasshopper, you thinking it's hard work increases your suffering.." ya whatever Mr. Enlightened Swami Yogi Lhama asshole, thanks for pointing out the painfully obvious. (It would appear that I personally still have a ways to go to reach Nirvana, breath in the good... let go of the bad... ohhmmm.... shake a rabbit's foot, do the hokey pokey.. anything? anything? Nope not yet.)

I intuit that enlightenment will be a work in progress. In the meantime, friends and family could die before I do (and probably will). I'll continue to assist others who are grieving. I'll try and make the world a better place. I fear I will attend more memorials for fallen climbers. But If I'm fortunate, no one will be missing me at my memorial or funeral because I'll have outlived the people I care about and will be living in a cave or crevass somewhere, high on the mountain, laughing for no good reason, just because Enlightenment & Nirvana feels good.

Saying goodbye

The climbing community will say goodbye to 2 female alpinists Sue Knott and Karen McNeil. I met Karen a few times at my friends place and was struck by her friendliness and lack of any pretense. Karen made an impression on me with her big smile and animated conversation as she spoke of being a teacher on the Morley reserve. She didn't mention too much about her climbing and I've found out from other friends that she was always modest about her climbing achievements.

Not only is this a loss to all climbers but I feel it keenly as a woman climber as well. We have few women mentors who explore the alpine and the mountaineering environments. As a climber of ice, I've found a common interest with other lovers of snow, ice and mountains that isn't always shared by climbers who prefer rock. I've felt inside of me a growing desire to explore alpine climbs, hence my upcoming trip to Mongolia. This loss casts a shadow for me and a reminder that what I'm drawn to is also an inherently dangerous place.

I have no idea where mountaineering will take me but the progression to larger scapes has seemed natural to me as when I initially trained for a 10km race, to a half marathon and eventually competing in a full marathon. Sue and Karen's death provides a reality check that I will need to give some measured thought to what my climbing goals in the future will be.

Michele is coming up from California. She knew Karen as a friend and she felt strongly that she needed to come for the memorial. For me there is a desire to support my friends who are grieving and a desire to meet with other climbers to acknowledge the loss of two good people.

Mohitos, eagles and the saw mill

I went back home to visit the parents this weekend. My visit consists of taking the milk route via Vancouver before I can actually get to Prince George. Apparently the airlines have decided that not enough people want to go to PG to warrant a direct flight, yet the flight from Vancouver is usually fairly full. So what could be an 1.5hr jaunt usually takes me 4hrs now. But on the positive side a stopover in Vancouver International Airport usually means a trip to the Rocky Mountain Candy store where they have caramel apples the size of my head and they are hmmm hmm good. Mind you I took a chance on a caramel apple rolled in white icing and covered in coconut. It looked appealing. The experience was less than stellar but hell, you gotta take risks sometime. Next time I'll stick to my caramel apple rolled in chocolate usually followed with a margarita in the bar. A 12yr old trapped in an adult's body DOES have its perks from time to time.

My parents picked me up in Prince George and after running some errands with them in PG and the smaller town of Vanderhoof we were headed back to their home, 2hrs west of PG on the North Shore of Fraser Lake. Hanging with my folks continues to teach me about myself. For one thing, I realize that I have slowly and insidiously embraced the fast pace of city life. This becomes apparent when I walk with my parents as they shuffle along, look at this and that and don't have any time limit. Part of me is chomping at the bit to get to their place so I can kick back and relax. And then I remind myself that this part of my trip can be relaxing too.

As we drive west I am always impressed with the energetic feeling of the rolling hills and trees. The feeling I experience is the body awarness that there are hardly any people in this area. Just miles and miles of trees. Its a space that I feel I can take a deep breath from.

The Interior of BC is not an idyllic place that the coastal or southern areas or the mountain towns seem to conjure and lure tourists to. This area is a juxstaposition of wildness and emptyness with the ever present industry of logging. The scenery is broken up by the saw mills along the side of the road. Perhaps it's because I grew up in an industry town but I don't find this disconcerting. I know there is clear cutting just a few miles in, hidden from view. Nature and industry coexist side by side because they have to. The towns in this area lack the ambiance of the lower main-land communities. There are no roadside fruitstands and tourist attractions. But what these places lack in "charm" I find they make up for in simply being who they are with no apologies. Big trucks with gas tanks in the back, vehicles with plenty of dirt and miles on them and people with plenty of dirt and miles on them as well. Life is not necessarily kind or easy, it brings what it brings.

At the lake I spend time on the deck. I look over and really take a good look at the saw mill that is right across the water. In the summer it's partially hidden from view by the trees. I realise that I never mention the saw mill when talking to my friends about the time I spend at the lake, I almost erase it from my memory. But the hum of the industry over there is ever present when you listen for it, and quickly becomes unnoticed. Not much different than the din of traffic or the volume of conversation in a food court. Mom motions that over at the creek on the otherside of the bay is a Juvenile eagle hanging out. He is still mottled brown and hasn't developed the telltale white head and tail yet.This bird looks to be almost 3ft high just sitting there, now thats a "big bird"! While I'm watching him with the binoculars, a deer walks out from the trees to lunch on some leaves. I'm struck with the dichotomy that I can be watching "Wild Kingdom" while hearing the din of the saw mill in the background. But it represents what I love about this area, it's not perfect, we don't "get away from it all" but there is incredible beauty at the same time.

While at the lake I introduce mom and Ray to Mohitos. A lovely summer drink consisting of lime juice, water, sugar, rum and mint. The nice part is that all mom has to do is go outside to grab the mint that grows wild around the deck. One double mohito is enough to get me into a lazy stupour. Ok I think I'm relaxing now.

Time spent at the lake is really about time spent with my parents. I go fishing with Ray, it's our time together and mom always finds a reason not to come. Ray and I don't say much but I appreciate just hanging out in the boat with him and watching him in his element. At 87, (and I don't care how healthy he is) moments with him need to be appreciated. Visiting with mom is always entertaining and I continue to appreciate her optimistic attitude on life or as I like to say, admiring the purple colour of her sky.

By the end of 3 days, as much as I've tried to embrace relaxing, I'm ready to come home to my busy life. But I keep the vision of the lake in my minds eye and I appreciate the ability to view wildlife so closely. I'm thankful for the visit with my parents. I look forward to going back in the fall. Mohitos will be replaced by Ceasars and I bet that eagle will be bald. The mill will still be there too humming along.

Ghostly Happenings

2 Days of climbing in the Ghost, what could be better? Brian Spear and I headed out early Saturday morning. As we got to the top of the big hill we noticed the roiling clouds ominously building momentum. We had planned on climbing the Wraith but decided to change our objective with the weather in mind. Instead we headed for the Sentinel crag where Brian had put up a bunch of routes. I haven't "cragged" very much so was looking forward to this less committing experience. Especially if there was a chance we could get rained on. Gord and Cameron were already on a route when we got there. I had met Gord briefly once while climbing on Consolation. Brian knew both of them from various activities and had also taught them and friends a couple courses over the years. There was another couple climbing in the same area and Brian was happily giving them beta. So while it didn't provide the typical Trad climbing experience where there is virtually no other people, it wasn't shoulder to shoulder climbing either.

We climbed Vuja-de, One Cool Mouse and Thanksgiving. The pitches varied from 5.9 to 10c. Seconding a 10c pitch is still challenging for me so I shamelessly pulled on gear and did what I had to do to make it up the harder pitches. I still had fun and never felt too scared so it was all good. I opted out of the last pitch on Thanksgiving since it was 10c with an interesting traverse around an arete. It was visually appealing but my feet were sore and I was getting tired. I decided to end the climbing of the day on a high note rather than struggling any further.

We were sharing a secluded campground with Gord and Cam. After dinner and some brewskies or rye&coke depending on your poision, we all decided to head into "town" ACC Town to be exact. The Alpine Club of Canada was having their annual Ghost Rock Review and were all camped out at the base of the big hill. We stopped by there with a couple beer in hand to socialize and check out the babes & babettes. Turns out my friends Therese and David were there so it was fun to catch up with them.

I have mixed feelings about the Alpine Club social climbing weekends such as this review. On the one hand the people within the club are very fine folk and it would be great to get to know some of them better. But on the other hand, I'd rather poke needles in my eyes than stand around a crag with 30 other people, shooting the shit, enjoying the sun and oh.. maybe getting on a rope to do a single pitch climb. I tried that with the Ice Review and found the pacing of the day too slow, too social and doesn't resemble the climbing experience I enjoy. However to hang out after the fact, enjoy some company and some beer - that's a whole different story.

I called it a night by about 11:30pm since we were climbing the next day. I'd like to know some peoples' secret to partying the night before and being able to effectively climb. Since I had the vehicle I unilaterally decided it was time to go back to our campsite much to Gord and Cameron's displeasure. But go figure, they didn't like the idea of a 40min walk back to the campsite drunk and in the dark. Brian got us back to camp as we all loudly sang off-key to "I will survive" on my Mp3 player. Gord and Cam continued with their drunken revelry until all the fire-water was gone. The next morning, Brian and I left the hung-over duo to meet up with another climbing partner Luke, at the base of the big hill. Unfortunately Luke took a wrong turn driving out and ended up at the Native Reserve. He backtracked and found us eventually. So after hanging out for almost 2 hrs we were headed to our climb.

We opted for moderate climbing and found a nice 5.9 route around the corner from the Wully Wall. called "Sounds Like a Rodent". I looked up into the valley and saw a lone strip of ice baking in the sun. I felt a tinge of regret that I couldn't climb it. although I knew full well it was just a dodgy piece of styrofoam right now. While the rock climbing was good (loose rock aside) I'll remember the rap down the adjacent gully more. A "classic" Rockies rap meaning the rope is raining rocky shrapnel on your head as you rap. Oh joy. A very good reason to have a prussic on the rope. The rock formation in this gully is beautiful, curved and weather-worn. It almost has the ambiance of caving, if I'd ever been caving and knew what I was talking about, if I was underground and if it was dark. See the immediate connection? Nevermind.

All in all it was a great weekend. I drove back with that satisfied feeling that only being in the mountains seems to bring me. I have a sense of unease knowing that I probably won't be climbing or out in the mountains for the next couple weekends. Time to start drinking heavily and indulging in unhealthy behaviors. Wait I do that anyhow. Nevermind - again.

biking fun

My first *real* riding outing since my biking skills course. I'm proud to report that there were no endos or serious altercations. Ok I did fall over in a mud puddle but the landing was soft so I'm not too worried about that. Oh and the handle bars did almost impale me but close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades. My mom would be hitting me upside the head right about now and swearing in french, best we don't mention this to her.

Overall the evening was very fun. I am still amazed at the cardio output required for getting up the damn hills, man I suck wind! But I'm also getting a better sense of shifting properly. It's encouraging to notice improvement and with most sports that's what keeps me going back. Achieving some mastery. Oh and the fact the male Mt Bikers have damn fine legs and butts to look at. We all have our differing motivations.

Again there was a few of those golden moments riding along, going full tilt and remembering being a kid biking and that ellusive sense of freedom and being in the moment. The cool of the wind along the skin, the movement of the bike through the gravel. The difference now is that at the end of the ride we open beers instead of gulping cool-aid. But from the happy looks on the rest of riders faces, not much else has changed.