Reunited

Holy crap let the 2022 momentary highs continue! Before I get into the eclectic adventures of the last couple weeks - here are two rapidly made edits/videos. The first is our Gannett peak adventure. The second answers some questions I’ve received on training and food.

I traded out skis for hiking boots and climbing shoes. I hit the road and migrated to warmer weather. Bad news hit initially - snow and rain in the forecast for Yosemite. Like always, we are at the mercy of the weather and my plans had to be flexible.

I delayed my arrival to the Valley and spent a day in Montana instead. Bummed about less climbing, I regained the stoke through shed hunting. I had never been in this particular spot before but looked at it on a map for several years.

18 miles, 9 hours, and a bear encounter later, Montana threw me the ultimate prize. A 10 year old ram skull - exactly what I was looking for.

Shed hunting is cool in that finding something affirms you’re likely the first person in that area for awhile. For example, this ram had been dead at least two years. I would wager that most people would pick up any elk antler or sheep skull they saw. So with this ram being dead for 2+ years, I am likely the first to walk in that canyon over that time. It’s a neat feeling each time you find something. 

Next to California. To understand the significance of this trip, you have to meet Ian Moore. He’s my best freediving, climbing, and surfing partner but most importantly my brother. How I got lucky enough with a brother like him I don’t know.

Most people think we are twins yet he is two years older. We grew up inseparable. As he stayed in California and I moved to Montana for school, our interests and personalities separated. Our time together shrunk. We became our own unique selves. But at our cores, we were still the same brothers with shared interests always. Climbing, surfing, and diving became our avenues to reunite. Adventures with Ian are flawless. It feels like no time passed at all when we get back outside together.

This year Yosemite will be our playground. First this trip up the south face of Washington Column. It was perfect. Every hour driving from WY to CA and every cent spent on $5-$6 gas was worth it. Reunited at last! Looking forward to several more Yosemite escapades this year with him.

California was epic. But there’s not the large population of cervids that annually drop antlers like we have in Wyoming. With May approaching I had to get back. It probably sounds foreign to many that we crawl around the woods searching for discarded headgear. But go hike 10-20 miles, hook a tree, see a perfect antler laying on the ground, and you’ll understand the momentary high we chase.

April 30th offered one of the greatest shared momentary highs I’ve ever had. Kelly, Mal, Mike, Tanner and I drove east to a spot legal to shed hunt pre the May 1st opener in Jackson.

It was one of those days where the stars align and things seem to go too well. We hit the “bone-zone” as antler-addicts or shed-necks call it. Everyone found at least one antler on his or her own. We had perfect weather and saw crazy wildlife from massive bighorn rams to three grizzly bears.

I’ve found a lot of antlers on my own and it’s always exciting. But to be surrounded by good friends while laughing and screaming about our finds made this my all time favorite shed hunt.

Three back to back momentary highs. The sheep skull, Yosemite climb, and those antlers all created uncontrollable explosions of emotions. Screams of stoke, laughter, and heart-racing excitement made all the better because I shared them with others. This is what I’m chasing - what this year is all about.

That being said, life isn’t all butterflies, rainbows, and rock climbing. Social media generally reflects only life’s highlights which leaves out and discredits full reality. The following is in no particular order of severity, magnitude, or importance. I must establish that so not to discredit certain events or make them seem equal to smaller issues or overall seem less significant.

But recently my car has sustained axle damage resulting in lost shed and bear hunting opportunities plus cost me a small fortune. Emotionally I’ve struggled while missing several people in Jackson and finding out others may not stay. Weather is predicted in Yosemite and will likely kill my climbing plans with Ian this next week. I just got off a 7 hour bus packed with 40 strangers riding to Salt Lake. The AC was broken and I was severally hungover and sleep deprived.

But of immeasurably higher significance altogether that puts all of life into perspective, I am on a plane right now to celebrate the life of a recently lost middle school friend.

I want this blog to be real. I want it to depict true reality unlike a lot of media. I’ll bring up the highs and the lows but always with respect to others’ privacy. Thus I may not write about this weekend’s events.

To stay true to reality, however, I will post a piece I’ve been writing about my own hardest time in life. It’s a story of sorts - one I’ve never shared publicly for 7 years and fewer than 10 people know about. That will be the following post on this blog and will come out soon after this one. 

Over the past weeks, from Montana to California and back, I have driven over 40 hours. I am back to sleeping in my car - parked on National Forest land, BLM land, or the Jackson streets.

This has given me time to reflect on all the adventures I’ve had with my Subaru plus reminded me how comfy and cozy I sleep in it. Would I call it comfy-wumphy or cozy-wozy? Probably both.

It currently smells of sweaty climbing gear, wet antlers, Yosemite pine needles, spilled sun flower seeds, and a sheep skull. Reunited with my 4-wheel adventure buddy, now seems like the perfect time to write a love note of sorts. 

We met in 2015 while I was working in New Mexico. Within the first month you sustained golf-ball like dents from desert monsoon hail and your windshield shattered. Good start.

That same summer a mouse crawled up into your spare time compartment to seek refuge from that same hail. She then stole your insulation to make a nest and gave birth to baby mice inside that compartment.

To continue the saga of that summer you held several rattlesnakes that I’d caught at night. I kept them in pillow cases on your back seat to photograph in the morning. Together we listened to them rattle through the night next to us as we slept above the ground to avoid the scorpions. 

Your appearance shows character and harbors memories. Along with the dents from hail, your hood has a dent from my butt after watching a meteor shower on it.

Your exterior has three other large dents/scratches - all hit and runs from people that didn’t know how to drive in snow. Those dents made it financially stupid to trade you in for a pickup - which I debated for a long time. Sorry I ever considered that. You’re better. 

The interior has scuff marks from sharp climbing gear and antlers plus grease stains and tire treads from cramming bikes inside.

The roof rack has blood stains from the multitude of critters it has packed out in one trip that took me four to get out of the woods. Deer, elk and bears have been shoved in it and, while I hose it out each time, some permanent stains remain. 

You’re missing a front floor mat after losing it in the snow while trying to gain traction. The resulting tow by a massive tractor off a climbing anchor built on your frame was one for the record books. The right wheel-well is replaced after ripping out the last one from a broken set of chains. That was the day I finally splurged on winter tires and will never go back. Also your horn doesn’t work. Though not an issue in the scarcely populated state of Wyoming, I promise to maybe one day fix it should we move to New York where horns are a daily tool - but also we’ll never do that. 

I’ll always remember the day I hid under you as we escaped those crazy guys in the National Forest shooting guns at us.

I’ll always remember the day Tanner and I strapped an entire cow elk to your roof with NRS straps and drove through downtown Jackson. 

You’ve wreaked of ski boots, firewood, neoprene wetsuit, spilled beer, and even wet deer from that roadkill we salvaged in the rain. 

You’ve carried everything from friends crammed on the bed like a clown car to sheds, ski/climb/bike gear and guns/bows. 

Sorry for swerving you off the road into sagebrush several times to avoid crossing deer and elk.

Sorry for the 100+ ticks that crawled into your trunk from the bear hide in my cooler. 

We’ve slept in copious Walmart parking lots togethers, at many remote national forest and BLM trailheads, and around some of the prettiest mountains.

We’ve listened to elk bugles, counted shooting stars, and watched lightning bolts blow up trees less than 500 yards away.

Thanks for always starting even when the mercury dips below -20 and the ice builds up on both the outside and inside of your windows.

Your blue exterior, four hopefully still inflated tires, and the purr of your engine starting offer the biggest relief coming out of the woods.

Y

our all wheel drive system and winter tire combo is mean - taking me places I’d never thought I’d reach on roads even pickups have turned around. 

You’ll keep getting the comments about being a lesbian car and I’ll keep getting shit for my license plates - first because we rocked California tags trying to survive in Montana (thanks to those at the trailheads that thought it’d be funny to take our chains off because out-of-state hunters aren’t welcome. I appreciate you not slashing the tires or keying the car).

Next we finally get Wyoming plates yet still get shit on because they are “22”. Remember - “in Jackson you’re only 30 miles from Wyoming”. Screw them. They may scoff at us but we will still get deeper, hike harder, and prove ourselves. As Kyle Horn always said, “Your subaru is the ultimate hunting rig”.

I’ll keep changing your oil and replacing fuses, lights and your battery. I’ll probably pop another sidewall requiring a whole new set of tires thanks to your all-wheel drive system. These random expenses, as annoying as they are and steal money from my gear fund, are worth it.

You’re my transportation, my home, and my reliable, never-flaking adventure buddy. Thanks for 140K miles filled with adventures. I am excited to see where the next 140k miles takes us. 

I’ll close with an ode to Mt. Glory. I finished the final three laps of my season making 63 total. At roughly 1600 vertical feet each, that’s just over 100,000 ft climbed this season on just that peak. Wow I have a problem.

But what a season it has been. From icy, cold laps to some of the deepest powder I’ve ever seen. From frozen-shut eye-lids to face shots so regular they leave you gasping for air. From solo pushes to laps with all my friends filled with shared laughter and excitement.

Thanks Glory. I can’t believe I live less than a 15 minute drive from your winter playground. Already looking forward to next year. 

It’s bear season. And mountaineering season. A couple more big goals to chase before Alaska. Less than 15 days now before Operation DeGnarly.