Summit achieved. I am no bear bait!

As time goes on I continue to enjoy the truck life. I anticipated a wear on spirits at the beginning of this journey, but quite the contrary has proven true. As the pages of the calendar turn more benefits of this life become apparent to me and I plan on pushing it further into the cold months than I had originally thought reasonable. Days such as follows motivate me to continue this life that results in uninterrupted outdoor endeavors.

After a day of rock climbing in an unfamiliar area I set up camp near a patch of ponderosa pine trees. After turning in early as the sunset I awoke at 11:30 p.m. to an ear piercing screech in the forest that backed my home on wheels. I recognized the noise as a bird darting from one tree overhead to another. Irritated, but patiently I waited for the noise to stop. However, 30 minutes of this spastic nocturnal creature hindered me from falling back asleep. So I switched positions to the driver's seat and drove off to find a new home for the night.

From my limited knowledge of the area the nearest patch of dirt to legally park my truck in solitude for the night was at the base of Mt. Sopris. Laying near to this mountain that dominates the skyline above Carbondale, Colorado I was recalling my previous attempt to tag the summit, consequently turning back due to wet, spring snow and a rain storm. I had no obligations the following day and an insatiable hunger for mountain adventures. So I decided to set the alarm for 5:00 a.m. and take another stab at climbing the mountain.

Bright and early I awoke, made coffee, packed my boots, crampons, ice axe, and water necessary for my planned route to the summit via a couloir of hard snow to the top. By 6:15 a.m. I was on the trail with a mission.

 Route of ascent shown in black.

About 2 miles into the hike as I was walking through a grassy clearing in an Aspen grove as I heard heavy thumps and breaking twigs in the forest. Mere seconds later the noises grew alarmingly near. Then I spotted a chocolate colored bear not running, but bounding through the grass. As it crossed my path I stood dumbstruck with no means of defense or plan of action if that force of nature was to change directions towards me. All I could muster with a shaky, unsure tone was, "ohh, h-h-hey buddy".

Unfazed by  the opportunity to pounce on a tasty, defenseless hiker the bear continued on it's mission to get whatever it was bolting towards. Leaving me with a new appreciation for life, I heard an animalistic screech in the woods nearby. Naturally, the bear won. It defeated whatever it was after, and had food for the day. That beast's raw power was displayed in perfection as it tore through the forest, in clear control of whatever was set before it. Humans are only at the top of the food chain because of their brain, not there brawn. If I hope to make it through this world in one piece I better use the intellect and good judgement available!

Spirits high from the outcome of my encounter with a bear in attack mode I continued up the mountain making noise to alert the bear I was in the area, as to not surprise him. After a couple hours of hustle through boulders, and scampering up a 40 degree snow slope I stood atop the summit, looking over the beautiful Elk Range. Now that the hard work was through it was time for the fun part! After climbing a snow slope such as this you are rewarded by the ability to glissade down the way you came up. Sliding down on ass, using the ice axe as a brake I descended about 1500 feet in a small 10 minute time frame. It beats the hiking trail! To follow that excitement I jumped in the icy alpine Thomas Lake. I couldn't spend too much enjoying the cool water and warm sun though; I still wanted to make it back to the trail head fast to achieve my 6 hour roundtrip goal.

Mt. Sopris summit view

Shirtless, ice axe in hand (A.K.A. now my bear weapon), I ran down the trail 4 miles back to my truck as fast as my legs allowed. Naturally, as I drew nearer the trailhead I ran into more novice hikers and families out for a mellow stroll. I resembled an image of William Wallace from Braveheart, bounding down the mountain, no shirt, holding what could appear to be a weapon of warfare in hand. You can imagine I received some odd looks by the unsuspecting hiker, as I bolted by as fast as the bear that had put the fear of god into my heart.

I approached a slow paced couple lacking fitness, but with high spirits to be in this incredible place. They stared at me, with their faces smeared with bright, white sunscreen, and asked in awe, "Did you run all the way up too!?" I stopped to chat for a brief moment, and had to share my bear story with them. Their response seemed be fear of what may lay on the trail ahead for them! Never the less, they continued up, and I continued down to my truck.

Upon arrival at the trailhead I achieved my 6 hour truck-to-truck goal and collapsed on the tailgate to refuel, relax, and prepare to meet a friend in a few hours to finish the marathon day with rock climbing until the sunset. At day's end I considered it a complete success, feeling full of life, and absolutely content.

The Canyon Called Itself the Black

Summer is here! It's time to shake off the cobwebs and get after whatever summertime fun you pursue. To start my season I returned to a climbing area that has been a perpetual intimidation for me, a place that I have gone to in the past to test myself in the realm of adventurous and committing rock climbs. However, this visit to the Black Canyon of the Gunnison was different. It was an attempt to rekindle the bold climbing habits prior to my injury in December of last year.

The Black Canyon is a forbidding geological anomoly. As one drives down the Black Canyon Road through sage brush covered hills you anticipate the change in landscape to come. Abruptly as you near the ranger station your eyes are immediately drawn to the 2200 foot drop in the earth. After parking you car in the campground surrounded by ponderosa pines you decide to take a closer look at this canyon that was spotted briefly on the way in. A five minute walk from camp deposits you at the rim of the canyon that drops into the depths below. The canyon lacks the common gradual descent, but rather sheer plummet of space that would send the faint hearted or ill balanced running home to the hobbit hole which they came. Small birds ride the air currents; swooping within inches of the dark, granite walls.

Those who have not satiated their curiosity at the rim may explore the inner canyon via steep gullies of loose rock with obligatory passages of thriving poison ivy bushes. At the lowest point in the Black rages powerful white water rapids that have been carving this splendor of the natural world for millions of years. If you would like to explore further down the rabbit hole: the path is upward bound. Now is the time to flake the rope, check your knots, and look well to each step up, into the unknown.

On my recent trip to the Black Canyon I was fortunate enough to team up with a local climber who has repeated the ascent over 40 times. The weekend would bring my count to the fourth and fifth climb out of the canyon. On Saturday we chose a route neither of us had done before. Of moderate difficulty but of committing, time consuming length the route is known as Moveable Stoned Voyage (5.10)

Rather than sticking to the standard way of passage, we chose to deviate from the path to a more difficult variation halfway up the wall. As I belayed my partner up this smooth vertical corner of stone I took my tight fitting climbing shoes off in attempt to find some comfort in this inhospitable place. I set one shoe securely next to my small backpack. While paying due attention to my partner's upward movement I naively tossed the other shoe into the corner of the ledge, which dropped into a deep fissure in the rock. My confidence was crushed as I heard the rubber shoe bounce off either side of the crack. After countless times of carefully removing my shoes on multi-pitch climbs, this was a very poor time to have a moment of negligence. "Son of a bitch" was my resonating thought. But no time to despair in this place, or it will surely win.

 Shortly after this unfortunate event my partner was forced to swallow some pride as well. Turned down by a featureless section of rock, void of a gear placements to aid his ascent he returned to the ledge I belayed him from. Luckily we were able to take an easier route up the remaining 1000 feet to the canyon rim. This easier route was not all that "easy" in the absence of my second climbing shoe. Nonetheless, I squirmed up chimneys and scrambled up gullies of loose, crystalline rock.

Once the struggle was over and we had returned to camp we began planning for tomorrow's descent and ascent of the canyon. After chatting with the park ranger, he offered me his climbing shoes for the day and recommended a less traveled, moderate route by the name of Power Lounger (5.11). The game was on! When dawn came we set off down the gully again, to climb Power Lounger's five pitches by 1:00 in the afternoon. Without incidence or much struggle we finished the day's climb drove away unscathed from the Black Canyon of the Gunnison.

The Black Canyon has a rich history of horrific tales that would make my weekend adventure look like dinner and a movie. The people that pioneered the canyon and those who continue to explore it's walls, that lack a single human finger print, posses courage (or stupidity depending on your perspective; it's a fine line) I cannot hold a candle to. That comparison must be taken into account when comparing another's to my own skill set to put themselves in  situations full of mystery and unpredictability. Whenever I put myself out there to explore the unknown I return with lessons that apply to overcoming the hurdles of other areas of my life. I view the ambition to wander into wild lands full of unforeseeable outcomes is that same curiosity that invented the lightbulb, sent explorers around the world and is the potential that drives the human race to new standards.

The Canyon Called Itself the Black

Dark, deceiving

The foolish won't be leaving

The Canyon called itself the BLACK

Roaring, tumbling

In that river don't go stumbling  

The Canyon called itself the BLACK

Deep, unnerving

Good judgement is well serving

The Canyon called itself the BLACK

Salvation will be found

If you avoid the BLACK'S hound

The Canyon called itself the BLACK