Woke up this morning with my arm around Lune on one side and Alden on the other, and my heart feeling so full. I’ve spent a lot of time in my adult life chasing after adventure and “freedom,” and running from anything that might tie me down. I’ve avoided attachment, both consciously and subconsciously. But, as it turns out, love really is the best thing in the world. There’s no ignoring it with these two in my life. ❤️
“They should call this the Devolution Traverse,” I wrote in the summit register on Fiske, “because I’m starting to feel like a monkey.” I suppose if I was completely honest I would have added something like “a very tired monkey” or “will this ridge ever end?” But summit registers are like instagram—they seem to demand an air of swagger even alongside truth-telling, a mandatory glory in the suffering.
I wonder why we don’t tell truer stories. Hannah and I had an incredible, memorable time on the Evolution Traverse, but we also spent much of the climb being downright scared. Based on what we’d heard (namely from friends), we honestly weren’t prepared for the amount of risk inherent in the climb. In many ways, we found ourselves duped, lulled into a false sense of security. But false it was—in the end, there’s no amount of beta, traffic, or fanfare that can make a route like the Evolution Traverse safe. No matter how you tackle it, it’s risky to be moving over miles of loose, steep terrain, soloing very exposed fifth class rock, and trying to do it all as quickly as possible.
As certain forms of alpine climbing become more and more popular—think about how blown up the Bugs have become, Patagonia, the North Cascades and the Sierra—I think we have to start telling truer stories. Yes, in the end it’s the responsibility of every climber to assess risk and know their ability level, absolutely. But at the same time, it also falls on those of us who have been around for longer to create a culture of honesty rather than bravado, to encourage a respect for the mountains rather than just sharing the sunny or ego-boosting sides of our stories. To talk about the rappel anchor that failed on the Evolution earlier this month with caution rather than judgment, and discuss the route’s loose rock with seriousness rather than laughing at our near-misses. To—despite the wealth of beta or popularity or stories of relative ease—never portray the mountains as casual.
Okay, off my soapbox and back into my quiet, alpine-less Bend, Oregon hole. Discuss if you please.✌🏼😉
• E V O L U T I O N T R A V E R S E •
It’s been a summer full of endurance missions, but this one sure takes the cake in terms of difficulty, commitment, and downright rowdiness. And all at 13,000 feet! As always, it was such a joy to share the metaphorical rope with the always psyched, always positive, always determined miss @hannahlily17. Now I’m going to go home and cuddle with my boyfriend, eat fresh food, and knit or something. Peace, climbing.✌🏼
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📷: @hannahlily17
Fueled by Gushers, Pop Tarts, Snickers bars (sponsor me, @grocery_outlet?) and Vitamin I (you too, Ibuprofen), Alden and I ran/walked/hobbled/shuffled our way around the 48-mile Three Sisters loop yesterday (longest distance to date for both of us)! Playing with the trails around these close-to-home mountains is really fun, and it helps that they’re so darn runable. Now if only the Stehekin Bakery would open up shop somewhere out there...
1. Demonstrating my newest downhill running technique, which involves relaxing every part of my body and dropping down the trail (you should see my face).
2. Alden cooling down at mile 31. He’s washing his face, not drinking the water - don’t @ him. But before this his longest ever run was 16 miles, so you can @ him about that... 😉
3. Running to the gates of Mordor on the foggy west side of the mountains. It was fun to see not only the plants change from west side to east side, but also the weather.
