Packed and Ready

I just finished packing for my weekend trip. Everything I need is either in my pack or attached to the outside. Warm clothes, pots, water, and everything else. The total weight is 65 pounds; 20 more than I've been training with. Good thing I don't have to walk far.

I'm not entirely sure what's in store for me, but new experiences are always the catalyst for growth, and this one won't be an exception.

I've never made New Years resolutions, but I can't help but see the coincidences with this trip. It begins on January first and starts my official trips. This will be my first trip since turning 18. And, like I said in an earlier post, my first trip in winter. I can't wait.

One Week 'Till Camping

I will be camping next weekend from Friday through Sunday. I will be spending the weekend with a group of people I've never met in a place I've never been at temperatures I have yet to sleep in. We will be camping on Frazier Mountain, and though it is in the same mountain range as where I live, I have never been there. The trip was organized by Naturalist For You (http://www.naturalist-for-you.org/), a local organization and guide service aimed at promoting environmental appreciation and protection.

I have spent the last several weeks gathering all the needed items in order to have a successful and warm weekend. Though I had many of the components necessary for backpacking, I lacked a compact tent, stove, and cookware. I borrowed all three items from a friend, who backpacked often in his younger days. However, he hadn't used any of them in over a decade. As a result, there was a bit of re-education needed to use them. The tent was very simple to put together, with similar construction to the large 4 person tent my family used on our car camping trips, but I had to do some troubleshooting for one simple and minor problem, but a problem that would take away from the experience greatly. Since the tent hadn't been used in several years, it picked up a peculiar odor that was very uncomfortable to be around. The musty smell resembled old cheese. It was an easy fix, but took me a little while to think of. In the end, I built the tent in my garage and sprayed it with a largess coating of Febreeze to hopefully remove the smell entirely. This worked amazingly and the tent now has a much more pleasant smell. However, it is still airing out, as I'd prefer to smell the crisp winter air and the pine trees over the smell of Febreeze.

The next problem came when I lit the small MSR stove for the first time. The stove burns liquid propane through a hand pump which attaches to the canister. Given the small size of the pump, I felt that it needed several pumps to build adequate pressure. I pumped it nine or ten times, then lit it as the instructions dictated. It lit with ease, but the amount of fuel that I had forced into the fuel line quickly escaped and leaked in a liquid to directly under the stove. The excess fuel then caught fire. The small, controlled burn turned to a large fireball on my stove. Even after I had turned the fuel off, it continued to burn as a result of the fuel that had leaked underneath for 10 minutes until it had all burned off. I then returned to visit John, the friend who loaned me the equipment, to figure out the problem. We encountered the same situation. After some trial and error we solved it. Three pumps seems to be the proper amount to ensure no fireballs followed.

In the next few days I will be buying the last of the things on my list. Namely food and a pair of snow pants. Following those final purchases, I will be packing everything into the 85 liter pack that I've been using to train with. My first winter camping experience is just days away. I hope my feet stay warm.

I'll Post More Soon

Hey. I just wanted to apologize for not posting anything recently. I'm taking finals. I'll be finished this week, and when I am I'll post more again. If you're new, read the earlier posts to see my plans.

Climbing Season Over

Climbing season is officially over, here on the mountain. Last night, we got pounded with 4 inches of snow in the lightest of a series of storms to take place throughout the week. I have no doubt that my bouldering spots, all hovering around 8,000 feet, are now unclimbable.

This is another of winters bittersweet aspects. I love the incredible beauty of fresh powder on the ground, but I'm a summer sports kind of guy. I have never gone skiing or snowboarding, in favor of spending my money on climbing and mountain biking gear.

I am realizing, though, in a nice twist, that I am going to gain experience with winter hiking and mountaineering as I continue my training through the cold months.

My trip list was expanded this week to my first winter camping experience. I will be spending New Years weekend on Frazier Mountain with Naturalist For You, a nonprofit organization aimed at creating a broader appreciation of nature. The trip is a three day two night training trip, during which time I will become a certified naturalist guide. Naturalist guides volunteer their time to teach the public about nature, while on hikes or otherwise. I will be posting more information as I receive it.

My First Solo Alpine Ascent

Me with my pack with 45 pounds of weights. I can't wait for spring.

I asked my friend to take this picture of me more for the purposes of my profile, so the reader can get a better idea of who I am. However, it showcases my first mountain. My first dream and obsession and, as of last summer, my first alpine style ascent.

The mountain in the center of the background is Sawmill Mountain. The 8,818 foot peak is relatively small compared to some of my other mountain obsessions such as Mount Whitney and Mount Everest, however it was a major personal movement forward.

I moved to Pine Mountain Club, California during the summer before seventh grade. Sawmill Mountain immediately caught my eye. The scree gully, which later became my route up the mountain, was so reminiscent of the classic peaks of the world. Its jagged, exposed face was captivating. I had to climb it.

I had made several plans with different friends to climb it, but every time one thing or another prohibited us from doing so. For 5 years, I had the mountain calling me. I had to answer it. I couldn't wait any longer.

I knew where I was going and what I needed to do it successfully. Hours of starring at the map gave me confidence that I could do it. I could stand it no longer. I left my home in the early afternoon and began walking. I packed a day pack with 1 liter of water, trail mix, and my 5.10 rock shoes.

The first mile and a half are on very easy trail with less than 1,000 feet of elevation gain. The final half mile, however, were a trial of everything I had. The slope is a very choss scree slope. For those of you who don't know, choss is very crumbly rock.

I continued up the route that my planning and speculating had shown. I was quickly scaling the face, occasionally turning to check the view. 100 feet, nice view and comfortable height. "I can't believe this," I thought as I reached 300 feet. 500 feet, incredibly exposed, I'm so glad I brought those rock shoes, I hope this next hold stays. After passing the more exposed section, the forest again explodes out of the mountain. I thought My main troubles were over.

As I continued through the trees, still on steep ground, I encountered a new problem: natural rose bushes and shorts. By the time I plowed all the way through the thicket, my legs were bloody and shaky.

The accomplishment I felt when I reached the summit was more than ever before. As I stood overlooking where I had come from, I realized how late in the afternoon it was. It would be dark in an hour and a half, returning by the way I had come was too dangerous and staying the night was not an option. I had to find the trail that runs along the top of the mountain and head east until I reached the road and would be able to hitchhike home. I started walking again at a hasty pace.

The trail seemed endless as I walked totally exhausted and out of water. "Shouldn't there be another hiker?" I wondered as I watched my shadows grow longer. There wasn't another hiker until I reached Mount Pinos where I was able to convince a departing family to give me a ride home. I was incredibly grateful for their ride and they seemed to enjoy me recounting my day.

I arrived home exhausted, hungry, and cut, but I arrived intensely satisfied that I had accomplished this goal. This first alpine ascent was the first of many to come. My life as a climber was undeniable. This is what I was supposed to do.