Another one in the books.

Just closed out another school year today. This year was a great one. Got through National Boards and this group makes me wish I could follow them up through the grade levels. They all got to evaluate me on the last day. Then, what began as a lark six years ago during my first year at Valle Crucis was tradition upheld, I asked each class to do their best Mr. Hiatt impressions. I guess I caught this group pretty off guard or maybe it's a testament to their sweet nature but they made fun of themselves and each other more in their impressions of me. Usually kids who really get into this are the ones I have harped on all year long for one thing or another. Most of the time these impressions give quite the insight into the world through their lense. Some of the kids who have given me the hardest time throughout the year usually do the best and most entertaining impressions. I guess they spend a lot of time rehearsing with friends and family. Either way its always a nice pressure release for the end of the year.

Twelve Years Ago Today

12 years ago today I graduated from college, went out to lunch with my family and then they departerd. An hour or so late I climbed into the back-seat of my friend Dan's Cheve Corsica and settled in for the short drive down to Asheville in the company of a beautiful young thing who I wowed with my mastery of 80's music lyrics. We ended up at the JCC contra dance in Asheville with a sizeable Boone contingent and had a blast dancing through the night. Post dance we grabbed a beer at Barleys before heading down to a friend's lake house in Brevard. The rest is history. Amy and I met and life has never been the same. Two beautiful reminders of our love rule most of our lives these days and neither one of us would have it any other way.

A sound of summer

I was sitting on the front porch last week in that peaceful hour between putting the kids down for bed and complete darkness. I was looking out over a pasture fairly glowing with green and the hints of leaves budded and almost ready to unfurl in the woods at the edge of the yard. A few juncos were at the feeders and a beautiful indigo bunting was nervously flitting back and forth between the farthest feeder on the porch and a few trees that gave him a good vantage point on the whole scene. There was a small amount of background noise from the creek across the way and some distant chirping when I heard it. A ghostly spiralling etherial call floated through the dusky air signalling for me an early beginning to Summer thoughts. It was the call of a lone veery sung out from the shelter of the deep woods. Amy and I call it "our bird". A playful reminder of when we both seemed to become aware of its haunting call during our first summer together twelve years ago. Its song seemed to follow us nearly everywhere we went that fine Summer (perhaps a testament to how much time we spent outside together during our courtship) Since that time we always seem to hear this call distinctly during our Summers in the high country. It is a seasonal song usually heard from the deep shaded green darkness of the trees. I have never actually seen the bird itself. Perhaps I have heard it this early before but with the leaves still yet to fully burst forth up here it seems a little early. Nonetheless, I am always glad to hear it and it never fails to make me smile.

Dusting...

Well this has certainly been neglected for quite some time. It's not as if there hasn't been anything going on. Perhaps it was just time for some balance. But now I think it's time to get back to this. I'm coming out of a fog. This winter has been a cloud of pressure. National Boards was although an alltogether positive experience still like lugging an imaginary elephant about in my day to day life. There was the physical presence of my old green messenger bag toting two binders worth of information I rarely ever looked at but felt naked without ready access to them both. This winter any other year would have been something I couldn't have dreamt up in my wildest imagination. I still tried to take advantage when I could but felt hindered. Not that I really did alot early on except worry about if it would all get done. I still got quite a bit of use out of my skins and skis in the old Christmas tree farm/ development just up the ridge from the house. Although short, the outings were always sweet and got me out even on some of the coldest days with my faithful companion Palmer who loved to try and bite the heels of my boots as he charged down the fall line to cut off my arcing turns. What an epic winter. I definitely got some great days in with new friends and old. Winter culminated with a trip out to Utah with Ryan, his friend Jimmy, and my old neighbor Paul from Idaho. We stayed at my cousin's condo in Solitude and skied four days at three different resorts. Needless to say, the free heel affliction has become a chronic condition. I'm hooked for sure. It was great getting to see Mom and Grandma on our last evening there.

Now it feels like summer already and with the sun I am awakening. Life has charged forward in most excellent ways. Swimming lessons are under way and should finish next week. T-ball began this past week and Carter is psyched. He also rode his bike without training wheels on Friday of course we have no pictures of this momentous event or his subsequent Greenway ride yesterday. We did get out for a Price Lake jaunt Gracen's first real hike all by herself. I hope this is a sign of what's in store for us this summer. Yes we are already training for our Western adventure. This time we will have a trailer in tow for some extended camping. We are all so excited we just can't stand it.

Free Heel Fever

I've gone and done it. Against my better judgement I have acquired a new passionate hobby. I'm blaming a whole host of people on this one. I'm not going down alone here. I've been surrounded by these crazy tele people for a while now and I guess they've finally whittled down the resistance. I'm convinced it's some sinister plot. Whatever the circumstances I am now the proud owner of a complete telemark ski set-up. Skis, bindings, boots, and poles (and some ascension climbing skins). There's even a helmet to keep me from completely destroying myself. I thought for sure that my gear acquisition would certainly have doomed us to a quick, warm, and snowless spring. However, apparently someone had other plans as we got the biggest dump of snow in the past ten years Sunday. We got over ten inches at the house and I was actually worried that I might not make it to the resort to take advantage. Thank goodness for the best all-wheel-drive vehicle in the world. The sube was a champ and got me down the back way to meet Todd Nolt, Lynn Willis, Corie Klamborowski, Nick (Todd's cousin-in-law), Shack and Ahn at the old caboose site on 105 to carpool up to Sugar Mtn. We ended up meeting up with Rich and Heidi Campbell, Mike and Susan Trew, Burton Mumaw, and two other guys who just all happened to be skiing tele. It was an incredible day of conditions and company on the mountain to enjoy breaking in new skis and equipment and beginning to find the groove of the free heel turn. In short I'm hooked. It will probably be the last day of the season but I'll hang onto this good vibe well into next winter.

EPIC (A Story of Appalachian Alpine Adventure)

I have lived in North Carolina (more appropriately the mountains of NC) now for longer than I have lived anywhere in my life. Although I grew up in California and spent all of my memorable childhood there, it is really these mountains and the experiences I have shared with good friends here that have shaped me as a climber and outdoor enthusiast. I started ice climbing in college, as just one of the many new and challenging outdoor experiences I gained since moving out to NC over sixteen years ago this past December. I have really grown to love the sport of ice climbing even if it is not an activity that is always readily available to climbers in the South. Maybe that is something that ads to the attraction of each experience you get out here. Climactic conditions as well as a schedule coinciding with those conditions makes for a normal ice season of anywhere from 0-10 decent days of climing any given year. I am very fortunate to live within relatively easy driving distance of at least a couple of enjoyable ice crags. Talking with other climbers there are a lot of stories out there about ice climbing in the South. Some are true and some are the stuff of myth and legend. So when I heard the tales of a 2000 foot ice climb in our very own Western NC, I was more than a little skeptical.

My friends Lynn and Jasyn have spent the last three years trying to find this elusive beast and after last year's experiences had narrowed the location down with a little helpful beta from a climber in Asheville who had actually done the climb and some verification from a few other reputable sources I was feeling pretty good about the validity of the claims. Weather conditions this past week had lows in the low single digits and even subzero range for a few days in a row. Rather conveniently this weather window happened to time perfectly with the weekend. A plan was formed mid-week that included Lynn, Jasyn, another friend Pace, and myself. I was told to expect a very long day. Headlamps and extra warm clothes were mandatory as it was likely we wouldn't top out until the very end of the day and would be descending in the dark. All of us showed up at Lynn's house at 6 a.m. Saturday morning well prepared and psyched. We made it to a church parking lot in the community of Celo Knob the northernmost high point in the Black Mountain Range which includes Mt. Mitchell the highest peak east of the Mississippi. After a quick scout of a local waterfall on private property that was for sale, we headed back to the church to sort gear and do the final load of packs. We were out and walking on the trail by somewhere between 9 and 9:30 a.m. Although we traveled over terrain mostly devoid of trails, the going was not too bad. We made good time and were to the base of the gully we were to climb by 11, and although there was already a party of two not far ahead of us (one of whom happened to be the guy who had given Jasyn and Lynn the beta) we were climbing by 11:30. We roped up in teams of two each team tied into a single 50m 8mm line doubled over. That left about 80 ft. of climbing before you were simul-climbing with your partner. The terrain was like a very steep frozen creek bed with mostly low angle thick ice that poured over drops of 10-20 ft. every hundred or so feet. As the lead team passed gear they simply unclipped and allowed the following team to sport clip the in-situ gear. It was a great system that had all four of us about a third of the way up the climb in a couple of hours of sustained effort. Jasyn who lead the first mega-block with me following, cruised like a champion moving very efficiently. Lynn and Pace followed quickly behind us and those first two hours were a very satisfying feeling of continual movement over good ice with enough vertical steps to spice things up just enough. The temps were perfect probably in the high teens although none of us felt cold under the constant movement. After somewhere between 600-800 feet of climbing Jasyn began to run out of gear to place and the flow became extremely thin to where we needed to walk around to reach the next section of ice. There we switched team positions and Lynn and Pace took the lead with me in front with Jasyn trailing. Another 4-500 ft. up we caught up with the party above us who were bailing at about 4 p.m. for a commitment in Asheville. We decided to continue on and up not knowing the next time any of us would have the opportunity to be on such a magnificent climb. We had been well warned about a heinous bushwack to eventually reach the top but all of us agreed that we had come to do the climb, felt we had the time to continue, and were prepared to finish the descent in the dark. An hour or so later our progress had slowed considerably and as the sun departed the temps began to drop making the ever thinning ice to become increasingly brittle. At some point as Lynn led a steep and sustained section Jasyn and I decided that we were running out of time to continue and that it was questionable how much longer the gully would hold climbable ice. We decided to unrope stash most of our gear in the packs and scramble up the side of the gully in the woods trying to keep up with Lynn and Pace.

Begin Epic. While in the woods which were a steep collection of rododendron thickets and other small brambles growing out of a 45-50 degree slope of frozen turf mixed with sections of slabs thinly iced over or covered with old powder snow, I was lured further away from the gully trying to make vertical progress. Jasyn remained alongside the gully trying to stay within sight of Lynn and Pace. My forray ended up committing me to some pretty exposed turf and ledge link-ups that I had no interest in trying to reverse. Long story short I was now committed to my own personal rodo-grovel bushwack hell. And of course I had no-one to blame but myself. Jasyn decided to drop back into the gully with Pace and Lynn following their own sketchy turf climbing nightmare albeit he was now unroped with a nice precipitous tumbling drop below him. The next two hours were spent battling upwards with fully loaded pack through surprisingly resilient and springy underbrush between exposed steps of sketchy turf climbing. About every fifteen minutes or so one of the others would yell at me to make sure I was still ok and near them. I began trying to angle up and to the right hoping eventually to meet the gully they were in but it never happened. By 6:30 the rest of the team had abandoned the gully and was now heading up and left to intercept my path. In the failing light I was able to calm myself enough to find a small clearing, sit down, take stock, eat and drink a little, find my headlamp in the growing dark and even get fresh batteries into it albeit at the end by feel. About 45 minutes later I could see Jasyn's glowing headlamp approaching from below and to the side from the gully. I could also hear him battling the same style of thickets I had been fully enmeshed with for the past hour or so. Lynn and Pace were not far behind him. As I waited I started to get a little cold, so it was difficult to not want to launch onward and upward as soon as he got there just to get warm again. Did I mention the snow had started to fall? Nothing big just a light but steady stream of small flaked that glinted dazzlingly off our headlamp beams.
By 7:30 we were regrouped and I was happy to turn over the route finding to anyone willing. Jasyn first and then later Pace would weave us through the thickets with a seeming sixth sense, that still involved the occasional grovel but a much less intense battle than I had performed on my own. Of course maybe it was just that I now had three companions to share the misery with and just follow blindly. After a seemingly endless hours of weaving ever upwards I took over the lead again and within about 15 minutes heard the wind roaring as I approached the ridge and summit of Celo.
After a brief celebration we noticed that although there was a trail or make that trails now before us, none of them were marked and most seemed to disappear into thickets of you guessed it underbrush and rododendron. We spent the next hour bumbling around finding the marker for Young's Peak which we now know to be the summit of Celo Knob, although Youngs Peak was not on our map. We had now been on the move for the better part of 9 hours, it was cold, dark, and the bushwack climbing had taken its toll. An hour later we finally had discovered the official ridge trail and quickly arrived at the marked intersection with our descent trail. It was now 9:30 and I finally felt we had a moment worthy of the celebration flask I had stashed in my pack. This would be tantamount to the enduring image of president Bush standing in front of the mission accomplished banner.
The descent trail although a well blazed was its own special slice of epic fun. It followed a relatively steep ridge straight back down to the base with pretty much a fall-line direction. At some point all of us busted it on this trail. It was brutal on the feet and more so on my quads constantly trying to control my descent. At least each of us had a treking pole to stay mostly in balance. The technical nature of the trail and my wasted physical and growing mental deterioration was forcing a pretty slow pace. And the real kicker was that our descent trail would dump us out on a road over 8miles by road away from where we had parked. Jasyn had previously scouted out a series of logging roads that would get us back to our car. But that was about a year ago and he had done this previous travel in the daylight in much better conditions than any of us were now in. Lynn and Jasyn had met a lady that lived at the base of the trail we were on but we quickly realized that it would be midnight at the earliest before we would reach her house. The likelihood that she would even answer her door was pretty slim. In the end we opted for throwing ourselves on the mercy of the Yancy County Sherriff's Dept. We told them our predicament and they graciously offered to send a deputy to give one of us a ride to our car.
We popped out at the trail-head at 1 a.m. knowing that the calvary was on the way and indeed two minutes later headlight rounded the bend with our saving chariot. Before we knew it Pace was back with his truck and we now knew it was over. Or so we thought.
Twenty minutes later as we approached Spruce Pine, the cars belts started screeching for no apparent reason. They eventually stopped, though their silence was accompanied by the loss of power steering. Pace pulled over at a closed gas station. Turned the car off and then back on. We drove on now with a battery warning light glowing on the dash. 10 minutes later the headlights were beginning to dim and we all knew our night was not over. We almost made it to Crossnore before the truck just conked and Pace pulled over in an empty parking lot. Thanks to Jasyn's AAA membership we called at 2:30 and a truck was there by 4 a.m. We got towed to Boone, where Pace was able to get his fiance's truck and shuttle us all back to Lynn's house. I crawled into the warmth of my own bed at 6 a.m. snuggling up against a deliciously warm Amy who had been wondering just what had happened. We had actually kept all the significant others in the loop throughout the evening thanks to excellent cell reception on the mountain, so she knew at 1 a.m. that we were safely off the trail and would soon be headed home. I decided not to wake her again with news of the tow truck issue. In the end we all made it home safely to our families tired but uninjured with a great adventure shared. We all agreed it was some of the most stellar ice climbing any of us had done, but hardly worth the bushwack to the summit followed by the steep technical trail descent. If we go back and I hope to some day we will probably rappel part of the route and walk off like the party in front of us did.




Waterfall for sale.
























Our objective the prominent frozen drainage on the left.

A great sequence of Jasyn heading up one of the steeper sections during the first block.

Lynn and Pace following us on the fun part of the day.

Lynn with Table Rock in the background.

Wrapping Up 2008 the right way...

After several days of running around to get all of the possible family visits in (read that stuffing ourselves with as much delicious holiday grazing as can be had in a six day binge) we returned to Boone and a gorgeous weather window. It just so happens that my old friend Tim was in town (from Ecuador) visiting his inlaws with his lovely wife and was itching to get out as was I. We got rolling just as the Hardy's country ham biscuit deal was wrapping up but just in time to score a few for the road and headed for Table Rock. I had the old second edition NC guide book and we talked about possible routes as we caught up with each others lives.
Amazingly enough the gate was still open to the parking lot and the day was shaping up into one of the prettiest of the month. Mid-fifties and blue-bird skies. Final route decisions were made in the parking lot. I was thinking something really laid back and in the sun in the 5.6 range. Tim was eyeing something a little more sporty. He picked out Second Stanza. It's a four pitch 5.8+ just past lunch ledge that joins with the final pitch of My Route. Neither of us had done it and failing to see the + after the 5.8 rating and with just a little apprehension I agreed to give it a go. The little voice in my head was having quite the vociferous debate.

"Well you said you needed to get out on unfamiliar terrain and push yourself a little.:

"Yeah but the last climbing I did was back in August and the other night I couldn't even muster a pull-up on the ice tools in the basement."

"Well it's only 5.8 (yes this would come back to bite me) and besides Tim will be leading the crux pitch. The other two pitches were ONLY 5.6 and 5.7 how bad could they be. "

The braver voice won out and we hiked around to the base arriving at the small ledge in good time. My first impression was "steepnesss" wow did that first pitch look steep. At 5.6 I figured I could get my feet wet without too much embarassment. The first pitch was awkward and as I overgripped my way white-knuckled through every move and trying to find a groove I have been out of since I can't remember when, I realized how much I really needed to be doing this. OK so I grabbed a cam to keep from pitching off the awkward mantle but falling on a 5.6 for good style just ain't my thing these days. (It's never been my thang). I finally clawed my way to the nice ledge belay and tried to generate enought spittle to let Tim know that I was off belay after fiddling in a gear anchor. Tims grunts (although I think possibly played up a little to assuage my bruised and shaken ego) were a little satisfying. Eyeing the next pitch while he climbed up to me I knew it was all him.

In fine Henkels style he cruised the pitch which looked even steeper and more intimidating than the one I had just thrutched through as he stemmed wildly into the almost overhanging awkward 5.7 crux. Did I mention the awkwardness of the route. I guess it's been way too long since I've been on something I didn't know like the back of my hand. This is far from the climbing I had done in college when I dreaded repeating routes too many times. As I rallied myself and sketched my way up to Tim the second weaker voice was really screaming now, "I told you we weren't ready for this. Now we're two pitches up on a gear anchor with a 5.8 roof to pull on a rising traverse. LOVELY" I wasn't ready to hit the total panic button yet but my more assured voice trying to reason that it was only one crux move and that I could probably gut my way through it was getting more and more faint. Long lost was the earlier dream of soaking up sun drenched pitches of the kind of laid back climbing I'd become so accustomed and addicted to. Now was the reality of not overly cold yet shaded pitches of steep challenging climbing and a slow growing fear of the unknown (adventure?) Tim kept the banter light hearted and up-beat picking up the slack for my increasing brooding silence. He moved just below the crux got in a couple of pieces and then leaned back to get a nice long look and plan out his moves. Just before setting off he zipped his shoes back to me on one of the free double ropes (now I was really sketched). But then just as quickly he fired through the crux on what appeared to be nice large holds. The silent internal psych-up or psych-out continued as he quickly worked his way throught the rest of the traverse and set up a belay thankfully well within earshot and mostly within view of the entire pitch.

Now there was no back-out. I cleaned the anchor and set off delicately to just below the crux. It was all there. The holds were positive sharp edged and mostly within reach. I cleaned the last piece below the roof and launched up into the sequence only to run out of juice mid reach. I gave it the Klamborowski "College Try" at least half a dozen times before trying to figure out how I could cheat my way out of my predicament. The prussik cord I had over my shoulder was almost as thick as my double ropes and wasn't biting well. There was no piece of gear close enough to grab or clip a sling to aid through and there was nothing available for the pieces of gear that hung from my harness. The only way out was up and with much pulling from Tim I eventually dry humped my way to within reach of the finishing jug. Thank you Tim (Bones) Henkels for getting me into this ha ha ha.

Perhaps if I hadn't overgripped my way through two other pitches I would have had something left for that crux. Perhaps if a million other things had been different. In the end I'm blaming it all on Tim's shoes a full size larger than my own and three quarter high tops that were hanging off my derier through those critical moments for my failure at the crux. Whatever the reason the day was the best possible adventure to be closing out the year with and the company was unbeatable. Tim cheered and pulled and pulled and cheered and pulled some more on those skinny strands until I couldn't not get my big butt up that crux. I gave him a hard time for picking this winning route but secretly I really was thankful that he had chosen it and for the entire experience. It made the final 5.4 BOLTED pitch to the summit of Table Rock all the sweeter. As we coiled rope we even had our very own trail angel. A random hiker at the summit also named Tim gave us a snickers bar which we promplty split and inhailed after coiling ropes. Then after some summit shots in the waning afternoon light we walked lightly down the trail in gorgeous sunlight to the parking lot for some post climb home-brew libations while we sorted gear on the tail-gate.

I couldn't have asked for a better day out catching up with a good friend. Classic NC climbing experience. Pics should be coming soon. Tim has promised to send me his shots. I left my camera in the car and even if I had had it with me would probably never have thought to snap anything except maybe the summit shot. Glad I finally caught up with Tim as his visits are few and relatively far between. He and his wife head back to Quito tomorrow to finish out their contract for this year before finding out there next destination in international teaching. Safe travels to them and hopes that they may find better beer options in Ecuador in the coming year.

Zircon

Uhmmmmm your lead Tim!

Smiling only after having been levitated through the crux.

You know you're with a true friend when they're laughing "with"you (harder than you're really laughing).

Safe at the belay.

Fly Fishing Take us Away...

Carter and I escaped the household this morning avoiding the IPTIP (Intense Potty Training In Progress) at our house and headed for the river. We took the garbage and recylcing and then tried to erase the traumatic memories of yesterday's playground accident and ensueing multiple doctor visits that resulted in the loss of Carter's top two teeth. Every day on the way to and from school I drive over the Watauga River on a low water bridge and look at the downstream side pool to see brookies stacked up there and often rising in the calm slick just before a major cobblestone riffle. We parked after our other duties and got Carter casting on the water with a couple of different lures while I strung up. Thirty minutes and many untanglings later I finally got on the water myself. The brookies were somewhat interested in Carter's offerings but never quite enough to strike outright. There was a lot of chasing but I doubt he was ever aware of any of it. All he knew was that he was doing a ton of casting without results. I worked the riffles downstream with an almost immediate hook-up with a sizable fish that played itself along just long enough for me to get excited before spitting the fly. Repeated drifts through the run brought no better results. After about twenty minutes longer with Carter's interest waning and him sitting down to wait til I'd had enough the fishing turned on. In the pool below the bridge I got my second hook-up and Carter realed in the nicest brookie of the day. No sooner did we have him back in the water and cast over to the same run for another immediate fish-on. Carter realed this one in as well. He was a smaller but fiesty brookie that had taken the larger stone fly nymph at the top of the rig. I pulled in two or three more alternating between the larger #8 stone fly and the much smaller size 18 bead head hares ear. On the final cast of the day I snagged a nice sized brown from the upstream side of the bridge. He looked to be pretty hurtin' though with blood coming out of his gills it looked as if he'd sustained some damage from someone or something else deep down. My size 18 in the corner of this mouth couldn't have caused what I was seeing. I got him back in the water pronto, but I'm not sure if he'll last very long. He did swim away stong. Hopefully he'll hang on. As for Carter although a little bored at the end he did admit that he had fun just being outside.

Fish-On!!!

Two handed trout almost makes up for two lost teeth

(not really)

The smaller fiestier fish for me!

Fa la la la la la la la la la!

Snow Day Ice Scouting with Carter

Carter and I snuck out to scout some ice on my way to work this morning. We are into our fourth Snow Day already and it's only December 1. The conditions have been pretty favorable lately to ice production so I figured we scoot up to Linville and have a look see at BLC. I must say I had predicted it would be in much more substantially. This really makes me wonder about Daughton. On our way back from the overlook Carter and I stopped to run up the Flat Rock Trail. The rocks up top were a little slippery but the views of Grandfather behind us were well worth it. We had done this hike for the first time this Summer on our way down to Asheville. It was fun to get out on it today in light snow conditions. Looks like we're in for a full winter if this weather suggests anything.

Zipline

Friday was the end of the grading period and a gracious school family had offered up a free team building opportunity for our staff. Not everyone was interested but the few that were came along and we had a blast. The McCoury's own and run Scream Time Zip-Line and they showed us one heck of a great time. Their staff was courteous and professional which of course allowed us to act like the middle school students we teach. But seriously the whole experience was great. We started on the more standard tour which included riding six separate zip lines back and forth across a deep grassy ravine. The next to the last zip brought you through trees before finally zipping down to the barn. We were shuttled to the top of the mountain in the signature Swiss Assault vehicles that the family bought just for the purpose. It was a pretty wild experience, but like a great story the final chapter of our adventure really made the day. We were driven back to the top of the mountain where we took a short zip over to the whole reason to be there, THE SUPER ZIP!!! 800 feet top to bottom and the ride lasted almost an entire minute of flying through the air suspended beneath our double axled pulleys singing out our speed over the cables. Now that's what I call a work day :-)

Hill Climbs and Bouldering Comps...

Another glorious weekend in the high country. Perfect weather for the 2nd annual Howard's Knob Hill Climb (2 miles of pure hill) on Friday. Conditions were perfect. Bluebird skies and temps in the low sixties to upper fifties. Wayne and I were the only ones that I personally knew to compete in all three of the Triple Crown events. The race actually had a pretty decent number of runners and I was surprised that more people hadn't been up for all three. It started making me think I had a real shot at something until I saw a few other people with the characteristically low bib numbers that designated early registrants. I put the target on a few runners and lined up with Wayne for the start. Even though I hadn't run the Knob since last winter, I still had a distinct advantage from driving up and down it every day to and from work. And the few times I had run it gave me valuable information on where to walk and where to pick up the feet again. I made it the first mile when the gravel regains the pavement and then kicks up at a serious enough angle to bring almost everyone to a walk. I got passed by a woman who always seemed to race at my pace in the other two races. This is one of the people who passed Steve and I like three times on the 25k before I finally reeled her in for good on the home stretch. No big surprises on the climb. A lot of steep walking and plodding jogging got me to the final rising curve where I was able to inject the energy saved on the last walking section into a pretty decent pace that carried me through to the finish. Amy and kids drove past on that final hill and I caught them just before the finish line which was great as Carter ran with me up the final small hill into the finishing corral. 23:05 ended up being just good enough for third in my age group of 30-39. Again you've got to love a small town race. Of course to put things in perspective the winning time was 15:58. All in all a nice kick start to the weekend.

Saturday was the Hound Ears Bouldering Comp. I always do the safety/medical standbye of this event as a representative of our Rescue Squad. It's always a fun scene where I get to see members of the local climbing community at least once a year. Over 400 people from all over the Southeast showed up to enjoy "SPLITTER" sunshiny weather and temps in the upper sixties. I had some help in the morning with one of our younger members and we ended up getting on a couple of the roped climbs for fun. Most of the time I just hung out in or near the upper parking lot with the shoe reps. It's the same group for the most part from year to year and it's always fun just hangin out and catching up with these guys. Some of the more dramatic problems are also just off of the main parking area so you get to see some hard problems pulled with some pretty impressive top-outs on relatively high ball problems. All in all it was a pretty chill day. Amy even got to bring the kids up this year and we let Carter and Gracen scramble around on some low boulders. They had a blast. The scene at Hound Ears has gotten progressively better year after year. As I was standing around it was fun to eaves drop on all the conversations about problems completed. But one guy came up totally psyched with a completely filled out score card. He was a pretty big dude and he came up very proud of his card. He was showing it to one of the judges I was talking to, dramatically pointing with cigarette in hand, to a V1 which was his major accomplishment of the day. I couldn't help but think, "Right ON!!!" This is what this comp is all about. Here's this guy who is totally psyched having a great time and has found enough V0's to keep him happy for the entire day. Of course there are some people throwing down some seriously hard problems in the V9-V10 range but for the most part the Spray Lords of the past seem to have either left the scene or at least mellowed out considerably. I'll bet that same guy'll be back next year pointing confidently cigarette in hand at his latest accomplishment of probably a V2 or who knows maybe even a V3 and will be just as psyched. Or maybe heaven forbid he'll just come back and do a whole bunch of V0's again. Either way the event will be the success it has become as a great fund-raiser for the Carolina Climbers Coalition and the Access Fund. And I'll plan on being there again for my annual dose of bouldering.

Zircon

Welcome to the world of Middle School.

If you just read the epic post before this then you need to read this tid-bit. So it's Friday and my friend Dave has been back at school for about three days. He has his pics of the race to share with the kids who have been super supportive. I mean how could you not be impressed by a teacher you see everyday accomplishing such an amazing feat. (OK other middle school teachers don't answer this question) But seriously. It's the next to last class at the end of the day (the day where Dave is actually moving around pretty well and well on the road to forgetting the amount of suffering it took to get through his race except for those nasty heel blisters he occasionally bangs into his swivel chair feet) and admittedly the one that most of the teachers find the toughest crowd. Anyway Dave is rolling through the slide-show (I know slideshow but seriously it rocks) and he shows Steve Ahn and John Moore finishing and then his own shots of coming across the line when... One of the smart aleck boys pipes up from the back with something about how finishing after Steve Ahn must mean that he really sucks. HELLO. Welcome to the middle school. No story or experience will ever truly crack the shell of complacency from our under-experienced charges. Nothing like a "gentle reminder" that no matter what you do you will never be that impressive to a 13-14 year old adolescent male. I don't share this to diminish in any way Dave's accomplishment, but merely to illustrate the challenges that we often face even in our own sheltered small community. Likewise I don't pretend that I wasn't as cocksure and self assured in my own way at this age(OK maybe I wasn't as brave as this guy was to say out loud the comment that seemed ripe for the picking). Dave was a little hot when he escorted our young would be comedian to my room. After a short talk with our hilarious comentator I realized there wasn't much I could reason with. He thought he was being funny in a really awkward unappreciated way I'm sure. And much to Dave's credit we were both laughing about the young punk before we headed out for the weekend.
Moral of the story: If you ever need a dose of humility or someone to take you down a notch(deserved or not), just stroll on over to your nearest middle school and see what kind of reception you get from your average student. Just also remember you were once in their shoes.

Zircon

A Wild Wisconsin Weekend

Where to begin??? How about the beginning. Friday after school I ran in the Valle Crucis Cub fun run. It's a nice 7 mile course that begins and ends in the parking lot of my school. The weather was good if not a little warm. I went out a tad fast in the first mile but quickly started giving it up to a slower pace with each subsequent mile. After mile four when the real hill started I knew it wasn't going to be a stellar run. I had been killing this course with the Triabetes guys all spring long but hadn't run over 5 miles since May. It was showing. Regardless I managed to power walk the big hill and get back up to speed by the tip top of the course, then pull a Dave Shack accelerating over the last rise and over into the downhill. I was closing in on a couple of guys and finally passed one at the last aid station at mile six. I felt sure he would overtake me in the end, but he faded in the last half mile. I almost caught one more guy at the finish but couldn't quite work up the mojo. I came in at a slightly less than stellar 58:31 or thereabouts. Once again the lesser goal was reached (under one hour) but I realize that to have loftier goals (like a 56 minute pace) you need to make some training effort to achieve them. Se la vie. It turns out that my time was good enough for 24th place and a nice little medal for the top 25. You gotta love small town road races. All in all a fun course but I should have been a little better prepared. I also didn't want to push it too hard because I knew what was coming after the run.

After some free Bandana's BBQ at the end of the race I said good bye to Carter, Gracen, and Amy, jumped in the car and headed to Reid Stewart's house. After a quick shower we hopped in his car with his son Benjamin and hit the road for Madison, Wisconsin and the 2008 Ford Iron Man race our friends Steve Ahn and Dave Shack were competing in. These are the guys I've been running on and off with for the past year as they trained to compete as a team of 12 type one diabetics. I hadn't been planning on attending the race until I had been talking to Heather Stewart our secretary. She was talking about how bad her husband (also a type 1 diabetic) had originally wanted to be part of the team but due to some health issues had been unable to make it happen this year. She also mentioned how badly he wanted to be able to see them race. I too had a huge desire to witness this inspirational performance. After a quick discussion I told her that if Reid was up for it I would be interested in road tripping together to be able to catch the race. After checking in with the boss I was definitely in and within a few days Reid had committed. He also wanted to take their first grader Benjamin along with us who is also a type 1'er. I have to admit that the idea of a 13 hour road trip with a first grader did not sound like the best idea. However as the weekend went on I also understood how important it really was for him to be there and see all of these other diabetics accomplishing something so impressive while exercising control over their disease. And to his credit I don't know many first graders that could handle an 18 hour day of cheering on racers as well as he did. But more on that later.

Reid powered out 12 hours of driving while I tried to hang with him. I lost the battle a couple of times but got to spend some good time getting to know him better while Benjamin sacked out in the back. We made it to Chicago just past sun-up and after a classic Cracker Barrel road trip breakfast I drove us the last hour or so into Madison. We hung out with Steve and family at the house we were staying at. The organizer of the whole team Michelle graciously gave up her house so the Boonies would have a quiet and comfortable home base. It couldn't have been located in a more perfect location imbetween the swim/ run course downtown and the biking loop. After catching up with Steve and then Dave who had come over to pack their bags for the transitions I gave up and took a nice nap in the back. I don't think Reid ever got any rest that day. In the afternoon I woke up and we all headed over to a reception for the friends and families of the Triabetes Team. It was a quaint get together where we got to hear the whole story of how this had come about. Let's just say that as with so many other incredibly powerful things in our world it started as an idea in a coffee shop. And like those other incredibly powerful things what made it really happen was the people willing to see it through to the weekend we were all now part of. After the reception Reid and Benjamin and I drove around to scout out the bike course for the next day. We found some good hills to spectate from and the easy access points (something that would pay off big time the next morning). Then we headed downtown to make sure we knew how to get to the start. We crashed out relatively early psyched for the race.
Sunday morning came early but we were all psyched. Steve left early to get driven to the race. Reid and Benjamin and I rallied and got out the door and over to the start of the race just in time. We parked a little ways from the lake and rode bikes down to the waters edge to watch the craziness of 2200 people swimming the first of two laps unfold. It was insane and we slowly made our way over to the transition area to watch the swimmers begin coming out of the water. If you have never seen an iron man or a triathalon period the first transition was high energy and singular focus for both racers and a small army of volunteers who helped peel wet-suits off the racers as they emerged from Lake Monona. The crowd was packed around the transition and I ended up only really seeing one of the team make the actual transition. The rest had been lost in the hoards of people exiting the water. Reid actually saw Steve Ahn and I finally saw John Moore although I can't be sure if the announcer hadn't called out his name if I would have. We were both wondering if the rest of the team was still out in the water and started getting really nervous as the cut-off time for the swim of 2 hours and 20 minutes rapidly approached. We stayed until the last swimmer to make the cut-off made it in with no time to spare. If you have a chance go to youtube and type in "The last guy out of the water" the crowd was going nuts when he made it and was an energizing start to our day as specators. At that point we realized that we must have simply missed them coming through. In wet-suits and swim caps with goggles it was almost impossible to tell anyone apart. We saw a couple of other Triabetes fans and heard the good news that everyone had made it through the first leg and all in good time. We were relieved and headed back to the car to head out to the bike course.

Pre-scouting the course enabled us to get quickly to one of the better viewing spots. Reid and Benjamin dropped me off first so they could head and get some snacks. I biked down to a good viewing hill after immediately seeing the lead rider for the team Bill Carlson rip through the intersection. (Bill was the first ever diabetic Iron Man back in 1983) This was his sixth Iron Man and he was leading the team. I don't know what else I can say except Ok well nothing, just let that sink in for a minute). A full fifteen minutes later I started seeing some of the other team members roll through aptly named Bitch Hill. Finally I saw Steve Ahn come through. By then Reid and Benjamin had made it out to the course as well as the whole Shack contingent. We cheered Steve through and then the following team members. Steve looked so strong and spotted me immediately at the bottom of the hill. All of us were wearing royal blue Iron Fan t-shirts that said Triabetes on them but he was smiling and having a great time. I was astounded to see Steve about half way in the pack of team members ahead of Iron Man veterans John Moore, Ann , and a couple of others. I figured that John would catch him on the run after having had an epic swim start complete with a blood sugar so low he was falling asleep in the water. Shack came through about 30 minutes behind Steve. He looked solid and in control though he baerely responded as I cheered him on up the hill towards his family (This was not the first time I had experienced "Silent Dave"). He did give me a sideways glance with just a hint of a smile to tell me that he was a machine. That he was! All of the team was looking in control. We were getting twitter reports that one of the leading members was out of insulin but he ended up just fine. After the initial cheering on Bitch Hill we headed into Verona where a whole street was blocked off for the race. We got some local bratwurst and cheered on the riders as they flew through the flat section of the course. Eventually we caught the team coming through on their second laps before heading back to the run.

After a quick drive back to the downtown area Reid, Benjamin, and I got on the bikes again and rode in search of the marathon course. After a quick stop for a beer and snacks we caught up to the team in various places. Again everyone looked strong. At one intersection I saw almost the entire team pass including Dave. He was dealing with IT band issues and in a fair amount of pain but still had a smile on his face when he told me how much it hurt. I got to ride along a little with Steve and John who had met up on the run and had decided to finish together. They seemed in pretty high spirits. I was able to catch them several more times on the course including their final turn-around for the home stretch of about 7 miles. I never saw Dave again but his family was out there cheering him on . Later I would find out he was pretty isolated on the course as he power walked faster than most of the walkers but much slower than anyone running. We headed for the finish line getting there in time to see several of the Triabetes team run confidently through the tape. Most of them had their Iron Kidz training partners with them as they crossed the finish line. (each team member had been paired up with a diabetic kid from around the country with whom they kept in contact with thoughout the year of training) The finish line scene was high energy. The announcer really had his act together as each individual came through to the announcement of their name, home town, and often tidbits about their life. It was made abundantly clear as each person came down that although we were cheering on an amazing team that was accomplishing something so incredible and meaningful that there was no lack of touching stories in the other competitors. It was a heady emotional experience watching so many people accomplish the seemingly impossible task of Iron Man. I think intoxicating is not an exageration. My adrenaline never stopped pumping all day long. Out on the course I even found myself asking the innevitable "could I do this" question. The smiles on so many faces belied the truth of what it must take to push yourself so far and so long. But then there were also the looks of utter agony. I imagined that these looks were the same as the ones I had worn months ago pushing through "JUST A MARATHON". It snapped me back to reality a little and reminded me of the recent conclusions I had arrived at in my own pursuit of endurance events. But back to our heros. After a few other Triabetes athletes crossed the finish line here came Steve Ahn and John Moore around the final corner picking up their Iron Kidz and Steve finding Zoe. I must admit I almost cried just watching this over the shoulders and heads of the throngs of people lining the finish. Both finished in just under 14 hours just as the sky started to spit at the crowd and finally release a steady drizzle that was unable to quench the high spirits of the finishers or the crowds. Quite the accomplishment I'm told. I caught up with Steve as he walked with Ashley and the kids. I saw utter relief and total satisfaction albeit with quite the dose of weariness mixed in with his expression.




























Next we turned our attention to Dave. A quick touch base with Nate let us know that they had seen him at the final turn-around and at his courageous power walking pace would probably be at the finish line in about an hour and a half. We caught up with John for just long enough to congratulate him on not only finishing but also officially breaking the Hiatt blood sugar curse that seemed to plague him whenever I either ran with him or in this case simply happened to be in the neighborhood. We took the time to move our car closer to the finish just so we wouldn't have to stand around in the rain. But then the rain decided to quit of its own volition. We rode passed the Shack posse on their way up to the finish. They were in high spirits indeed. After the car shuffle we made it back in time to see Dave Shack (with IT Band issues and now giant blisters to boot) make the triumphant final turn, under the Iron Man Balloon and through the finish line. Reids wife Heather had been following the race all day long and had been our update person via cell phone. She had set up her own personal Triabetes HQ in her living room with two lap-tops and two phones running non-stop. Ah technology. I could almost here her celebratory cries all the way from Boone as she and our principal Wayne had stayed up late to see everyone finish online.

Words do little to express what I felt watching these guys throughout the day. I have never felt so much a part of something I had so little to do with. I learned so much in the past year about diabetes, determination, the hidden powers within people, and commitment to a cause and all this as a spectator. I feel amazingly blessed to have witnessed such a performance from such incredible human beings (most of whom I do not nor will I ever know). If you are reading this post and know anyone with diabetes please spread the word about TRIABETES. Also please check out the posts from the actual athletes themselves. Steve and Dave's blogs are both linked to mine and they have the rest of their teammates linked through their blogs. Also keep your eyes and ears open for the Triabetes Documentary that was created about the team.

Zircon