Tuesday, February 28, 2017

Sounds to soothe the ears after the relentless bugle of the presidential butt TRUMPet

Greetings loyal subjects! Another long overdue update with lots of ground to cover, so with no further adieu...
Boots McGoots: snake wrangler 
As is par for the course, the good times have been flowing freely. After posting the last blog during the final days on Ascension Island, it was a quick turnaround to the beautiful waters of northern MN. Summer's sweet fruits abound and it was lackadaisical living in those long, warm, sunny days.
'Dude', the awkward desert dog...
The BWCA has remained a place unchanged that I have been fortunate enough to have known and loved since the days of being just a lil' whippersnapper. It has been an interesting and unexpected constant by which to view the changes of my own life. Upon each new arrival life becomes timeless. Everything stands still and the calm, clear waters act as a mirror both literally and metaphorically. If ever I have known a sanctuary, this would be it.

And once again, to prove to all of you doubters out there that I do actually work from time to time...
Dome inspection in NM
See that shadowy, yet oh so handsome outline of a man up there? I swear that is me. Perhaps this will also clear up (for those who still seem baffled by the concepts) what a radome is. This one in particular belongs to National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration. These are basically the people watching weather patterns. So after this short stint of work had come and gone it was time to make tracks.

Like the silent song a full moon sings in a crisp and calm winter night, potential for adventure and the open road hummed their sweet melodies and we howled in response. With that dreadful stretch of I-90 from MN to western SD behind us, we were once again pulled back to the center of the universe... the Black Hills.
Harney Peak in all its glory
Fresh caught trout for breakfast. Terrifying life-flashing-before-your-eyes Needles spire climbing. Silence. What more could one ask for in a good time? Perhaps it is the romantic in me or maybe just a susceptibility to sentimentalism but it is hard to ignore the powerful and commanding feeling that the Black Hills owns and radiates. Hell, maybe it's just that when you are free to become engulfed in a deafening silence, the energy of a place can more easily be felt.
Hairy Pin stands proud
For those who do not know a whole lot about climbing, there is a long and interesting history stocked with quirky characters and a plethora of tall tales. Each area has its own unique history, its own scene, its own ethics, not to mention just the setting and the stone vary so greatly from place to place that it makes for an incredible amount of diversity within the sport. The Needles of SD has a particularly long and strong history. To this day the area maintains what is called an "old school" (bold) ethic. Instead of boring you with the semantics, let's avoid that can of worms and just say this... you better have brass to match your bronze, if you catch my meaning. For instance, in the picture above is a spire called Hairy Pin. It, like many of the routes in the Needles, offers ground fall potential for most of the route. This is not to say that there is no protection at all, just not much. Quite often the little protection that is offered is laughable at best (we often call this 'psychological protection'). What this means is that when you are 10ft off the ground, an error on the climbers part could easily result in a broken ankle. When you are 60ft up the route... well, you get the idea. Hairy pin, along with a few other key spires remain historical test pieces that are not to be taken lightly. Such routes are often referred to as 'high pucker factor' routes.
Pretty face, pretty place

So after a few days of getting the bejesus scared out of us, Ellen, dude and I packed up the Mothership and headed to Devils Tower. We only had a few short days to spare for the tower but I was lucky enough to get to climb one of those climbs that everyone who's anyone knows about... El Matador.
Looking up at the daunting Matador
Here is a more visual photo of what the climb is like for almost 200 unrelenting feet.
Boots McGoots: gender morphing rock climber extraordinaire
(yeah, you don't walk right for a few days after this climb)
So after summiting the tower to look for aliens (we found none) and having made enough muscles sore that neither of us realized we possessed, we had to keep on keeping on. Next stop: Fremont Canyon!
The proud summit of Devil's Tower
Matching a hatch in an unusual setting
The clouds rolled and the winds picked up. What had felt like summer but a few days ago now seemed like a convincing fall. Gotta love Wyoming. Too cold and wet to climb, we set aside the climbing gear and picked up the fly rods (oh, I'm a sickly addicted to fly fishing now). With a mayfly hatch in full bloom, a herd of man sized trout scoured the waters in a deep pool I was blessed to stumble upon. Like a pack of ravenous wolves, they feasted mercilessly; no mayfly stood a chance. I tied a fly to match the poor helpless creatures and snuck it in amongst the hoards. BAM! A monster rose forth from the depths with lightning speed and a battle ensued that lasted for hours, hell maybe even days. His state of blood lust had propelled him to higher states of consciousness where he had dragged me along with him, tethered by a 3lb test line. Our outlines blurred. Where did the trout begin and I end? Where once were two adversaries beset against each other now remained only two friends with a deep mutual respect. I released the trout back into the water as the trout released me back into the Tao.
Pure joy
After a few days of what will probably long stand as the best fly fishing I'll experience, life called us onward. Time to head to the beautiful state of Colorado. We packed up the Mothership and headed to Rocky Mountain National Park to meet up for a bit of a family reunion. We made a few detours on the way of course... figured it was best to make the most of the abundance of mind blowing recreation that Colorado hosts.
Ellen high on life and the Petit Grepon, Sky Pond below

Incredible position in the heart of South Platte
Such fun cant be funded without a bit of work. Time to pack the bags and head back to Germany. It seems safe to assume that no one here wants to read about work. Cause who really wants to read about Oktoberfest shenanigans and schnitzle anyways. So lets just fast forward a month, shall we?
Breakfast of champions
Upon landing back in Colorado, the cool breath of winter sent shivers down our spines. We chased the wise geese and sought the warm embrace of more southern states. And which southern place could have a prettier face than southern Utah?
Horseshoe Bend

Ellen getting squeezed. Canyoneering










Two dweebs
Castleton Tower's North Face

Your favorite vagabond getting his ass handed to him. Indian Creek
The winds of early winter kept pushing us south as we dodged snow storm after snow storm in the highlands of the desert. Finally after having had enough nights waking up to frozen water tanks in the truck, we had made it to our winter nesting spot... good ol' Arizona. 'Twas only a short while for relaxing; soon after arrival it was time to depart again. Pack yer bags boys and girls. We're going to the Marshall Islands.
Incredible sunset. Kwajalein, Marshall Islands. 
Welcome to Kwajalein, where the fish glow in the dark and the government literally vaporized two islands with extensive atom bomb testing. Looks like paradise, right? Well, look but don't touch... you'll get lead poisoning. Due to what I am coming to learn is pretty standard government planning/spending procedures, I ended up not working a single day in this three week work trip.

But the first rule of radome club is: never complain too loudly about a government paid vacation to the south Pacific in December (unless you are a dirty climber of little overall importance and your blog is chocked full of well placed whit and snarky comments).  The second rule of radome club is: never complain too loudly about a government paid vacation to the south Pacific in December (unless you are a dirty climber of little overall importance and your blog is chocked full of well placed whit and snarky comments). The third rule of radome club is: what happens in your man camp quarters (with walls consisting of mere shower curtains) with three other men, stays in your man camp quarters with three other men.
Boots McGoots: Tyler Durden
Ya know what? No, I got a bone to pick with you people. You come here and read my blog and you think it's all sunsets and jet-setting but you don't see the dirt. You don't see the grime. You don't experience the things that I only wish I could forget. You don't know what its like to wake up to the alarm of your electrician bunk-mate's 6:30am bowel movement everyday for three weeks straight. You don't know where I've been, Lou!! You don't know where I've been!!!!!
Unusual colored grouper

Remnants of the past













Nurse sharks just waiting for a wayward snorkeler

Garbage bridge

Classic Pacific island beach shot
Anywho, after laying down a most envy invoking tan it was back to MN for the holidays with the family. Quite a contrast there, aye? From Kwajalein to Minnesota in December? It was a quick two weeks spent in MN before a surprise work opportunity arose. Had enough of south Pacific tropical islands yet? I didn't think so. Onward; Okinawa awaits.
Okinawa climbing
Tsunami wall
It is here in my final days on this beautiful island that I write this blog. I have been here for over a month now. My woman (Ellen, for those who haven't yet figured that out) came out and spent three weeks here with me enjoying a vacation while I slaved away. Now I know how you people feel. 
Fresh caught fish
The highlight of the trip was a romantic getaway to some remote islands nearby called the Kerama Islands. Much laughter ensues when the language barrier is so great that you are reduced to a game of Charades with most people you need to communicate with.
Behold: Zamami Island
There was one traffic light on the island, and an unnecessary one at that. Most streets wouldn't accommodate a single car and it was easy to notice that there were just virtually no cars driving around at all. It was silent (quite a contrast from Okinawa). We stumbled upon a fish market with a beautiful yellow fin tuna plucked fresh from the sea. A rather sizable piece of tuna which might cost you $20-$30 in the USA was less than $3 on Zamami. No need to cook it; it was immaculate.
The sun sets on Zamami, Kerama Islands, Okinawa, Japan
January through April is also the time in which Humpback whales migrate to these warm waters. You are almost guaranteed to see a whale when you go out on a whale watching tours. There are a handful, of the hundreds that arrive, that are more notorious for one reason or another. We stumbled upon a big male named Zed. They have been monitoring Zed since he was born in those waters almost 27 years ago. The captain did an amazing job predicting where Zed would surface and we followed him around for a couple of hours as he chased a girl. We could see their monstrous bodies lingering lazily just under the surface as they would catch a few breaths before raising their tails as they effortlessly slipped back to the depths. Zed gave us a grand finale with a full body breach not more than 50ft from the boat. It was unreal. 
Boots McGoots: National Geographic photographer
Ellen watching 6 sea turtles gnomin' some seaweed in the protected waters below
So there it is folks; another 6 months has come and gone. It's funny... I spend so much time putting one of these blogs together and it is over in an instant. What an appropriate metaphor. For all you touch and all you see is all your life will ever be. 
Boots McGoots: Shut up dood, it's not funny anymore

Sunday, July 24, 2016

A lot of places, a lot of photos

Every climber wishes to be in such a photo (my buddy at Mt. Lemmon)
It has been over half of a year since the last one of these, and it is only a case of serious island fever that has driven me back into the loving arms of my blog. It isn't that yours truly hasnt been getting after it. In fact I have been having so much ferkin' fun that it has been hard to find enough down time to stop and slop one of these together. Apologies in advance though. After having let so much time pass, I feel only half invested in retelling some of these tales. There have just been so many noteworthy stories that have taken place it seems overwhelming to try and explain. That being said, there is a lot of ground to cover so let's do this thing.

Behold! The many creatures of Guam!



It was in the tropical warmth of Guam that I was cradled for most of January. Having spent enough time there, I will regale you with some interesting history rather than rub it in your faces that while you were hunkered down for your winter hibernation, I was on the beach drinking pina coladas and.... oops... getting sidetracked.


Below is a picture of two lover's point. Many moons ago there was a powerful and well respected family on Guam. They had a beautiful daughter, who through an arranged marriage, was to become the wife of a Spanish captain. Distraught by the idea, she wandered the island. One day she ran into a young man that she had never seen before and the two fell instantly in love. This news reached her father and enraged him. He decided that she would marry the Spaniard at once. The girl and her love ran to the highest point on the island as they were being pursued. In an act of love, they tied their hair together and threw themselves from the cliff. If they could not be together in this life, they would be together in the next.
Two lovers point
Now I imagine that a lot of you who have read my blogs for a while wonder if I ever actually work, and while I wonder the same thing sometimes, indeed I do. We were working over 60 hours a week on Guam, and my task was simple and repetitive. Such a work load will start to drive one a little mad, and oh, the many places the mind will wander. One such place my mind wandered was about my old beloved van. For those who don't know, I had been living (for the most part) in and out of my van for almost 7 years. Anyone else who has ever grown so intimate with a vehicle will know that it becomes much more than just a vehicle. Meet Apollo...
I loved Apollo. He was a champion. He was my Rocinante (some of you may have to google that reference). However, there comes a time in a man's life when he doesn't want to just hang out in the front seat in a Wal-Mart parking lot, or lay down in the back (and yes, due to the amount of stuff within, laying was the only option). I guess they call that getting older. As interests grow, so too do the amount of possessions you own. It is inevitable. It was time for an upgrade. Enter... The Mothership!
Have you ever had those moments in life where the stars align and an obvious choice is laid out before you? It seems more omen than choice. This was one of those. I could not have imagined a more perfect path to take given my hopes and desires. What was once (as near as I can tell) a plumbing workshop...
Became a home...
(Beautiful girl and dog sold separately)
It was a long process to transform The Mothership from what it was into what it is, and the work is still far from over. But my god... it is so nice to be able to stand up in your own home. I acquired my ship in Phoenix, spent a few weeks doing as much of the construction as I physically could, and then hit the road. If you cant tell in the picture, there is a kitchen counter complete with two burner propane stove, foot pump sink, solar power running lights and fans, and even a sweet little ammo-can wood burning stove for help fight back the cold on those crisp mountain nights. Not a whole lot has changed in terms of my lifestyle from before. Free time is still spent chasing the good weather and mountains in between jobs, and work... is work. 

So after having left Phoenix, our little pack of three took as many scenic roads as possible to countless climbing and mountain biking destinations, visiting friends along the way. I had some work in Germany and France in the midst of all of that but we played our way through Nevada, Utah, Colorado, Wyoming, South Dakota, making our way onwards to Minnesota. 
Your favorite author on Tatoween, Zion
The dirty buffalo leading us up Crack in the Cosmic Egg, Zion
The Sun Dial, Wasatch Range, UT
My sweetie enjoying the unique cobblestone of Maple Canyon

Ellen on a sunset ride
Watching comfortably as wideness battle ensues
I wish that I could make my narrative a bit more chronological or detailed, but when life is this wild, it all starts to blur. And so here I sit on this tiny spit of land in the middle of the Atlantic, somewhere close to Africa. It has been a unique and rare opportunity to visit Ascension Island, but my heart longs for home and the adventures that await. The job is done, all the fish have been caught, I have officially swam in all of the 7 oceans, and there is nothing left to do here but wait for our flight out. 
The cursed blackfish. Don't be fooled by their beauty
Black jack at sunset on a fly rod

Fresh caught lobster thanks to our Hawaiian aquaman


I will do my best to not let another half year pass before composing another one of these. It can be hard to call forth the same level of enthusiasm for things so long gone. Upon returning to the good ol' US of A, its a quick turn around to northern MN for a trip to the Boundary Waters. And after that? Who knows. The Mothership will lead our charge back south as the days grow shorter. Be good. Have fun. And remember... don't do anything I wouldn't do!
Mont St Michel, Normandy, France