TA Loeffler's Adventures that Move

In honour of my second appearance on DNTO today telling tales from Life in the Ring oF Fire, I thought I would look back into the archive and find a few other stories to tell…this one hails from November 2004. This ring of fire challenge came from my long time friend and expedition companion, Leslie a.k.a. Mountain Momma. This story tells of the challenge of baking brownies without tasting a single bite.

Leslie has spent a fair amount of time with me. She strength trains in the mornings with me and she joined me for a Grand Canyon backpacking trip last year. She knows of my fondness for chocolate. She knows of my intense fondness for baking. She knows I would rather eat brownie batter raw than cooked. With this is mind, she treated me to a very interesting ring of fire challenge this week.

Leslie told me of the brown paper bag. She promised to deliver it at hockey on Monday. Monday came and went…no brown paper bag. Then she said Wednesday at yoga it would be deilvered. Wednesday came, no Leslie and no paper bag. My anxiety increased-just what was in the paperbag? Friday arrived with Leslie and the brown paper bag. On the front of the bag is written denali (struck through), denial, (struck through), and then Denali again in black felt tip marker. There was a brilliant ring of fire out of orange construction paper and in the center of the ring were the instructions…

Mix, bake, and give away these brownies without licking the spoon, the bowl, or eating a crumb.

“Yes indeed!” I thought. Leslie had hit the nail on the head-a true ring of fire challenge for me-one that cut straight to my heart (and belly). In the Grand Canyon, Leslie witnessed me eating brownie mix straight up and dry, mixed with peanut butter into fudge, as batter before baking on my whisperlite, and as pure unadulterated chocolate bliss once baked. Any of you have travelled with me in the field would have similar observations. A low sounding whistle escaped from my lips…I was in for a heck of a time.

I went out for my long run and knew I needed to undertake the challenge immediately upon my return. I was a tad bit nervous since I was ravenous but I knew it was then or never. I knew I needed to do it fast. Set to it. Not really think about what I was doing. Somewhat like crossing an ice fall…you know the danger is there, you know you need to move fast, and if you stop to think about what could happen, you’d never be there in the first place. I set the oven to pre-heat and jumped in the shower. I heard the oven beep and jumped into action.

Read the instructions. Pour mix into bowl. Don’t drop last bits of mix from bag into mouth. Throw bag quickly into garbage. Heart racing like a drum beat. Add eggs. Add oil. Consider tying tea towel around face to control accidental impulses. Grab wooden spoon. Begin first of 50 strokes advocated by the mix instructions. Panic as chocolate dust becomes airborne and is received by scent receptors. Increase stroke cadence. Try to get through the ice field fast. Don’t slip. Concentrate. Wipe batter from sides of bowl. Not let finger touch batter-that would be too great a temptation. 50 strokes. A huge number. Grease the pan. Pour batter into pan. Grab for spatula. Scrap bowl. Breathing hard. Will I make it through? Throw pan in oven, slam door shut. Phew. Bowl is crying out. Spoon is crying out. Spatula is crying out. “Lick me.” Thrust all three into sink…overflow with water. What a waste. Breathe deeply. A huge sigh. The first trip through the ice fall is complete.

Bake for 30 minutes.

About 15 minutes in, the smell. You know the smell. It is only a smell that sugar, chocolate and fat heated at high temperatures can make. The receptors begin to fire almost repeatedly. I’m back in the icefall. What goes up must come down. Got to make my way through it again. Visualize success. Make a platform from an old cereal box. Wrap with foil. Wait for timer to ding. Open oven-senses assaulted by the escaping heat wave. Put knife in brownies-comes out wet. Bring knife close to lips, remember I’m in the ice fall and thrust into sink with other utensils-that was a close one. Take brownies out of oven. They are perfect. Quickly slip them from pan onto platform. Run downstairs. Out the door. Around the corner. Ring doorbell. Pray Gillian is home. She answers the door mercifully quickly. I hand them over-she seems to be expecting them. I turn for home. Exhausted. Exalted. Elated. I had survived the return trip through the icefall.

I faced the denial of Denali and rose to the task. The task was great training for the 30 days of denial on the glacier…denail of color, warmth, comfort and for facing things that are hard…thanks Leslie for the brilliant ring of fire challenge.

Here’s a video to me telling the story with a few pictures to illustrate:

In honour of my second appearance on DNTO tomorrow telling tales from Life in the Ring oF Fire, I thought I would look back into the archive and find a few other stories to tell…this one hails from October 2004 when I was just beginning to solicit “Ring of Fire” challenges from my support community. This story tells of getting ready for the next week’s challenge of wearing a dress every day for a week. Enjoy!

Some of you have asked about “why the ring of fire?” I’ll turn to the words of two experts/philosophers from the field of experiential education to answer that question. John Dewey, considered by many to be the father of experiential education, said “Growth depends on the presence of a difficulty to be overcome.” Kurt Hahn, the father of the Outward Bound schools said something similar…

“Without self discovery, a person may still have self confidence, but it is a self confidence built on ignorance and it melts in the face of heavy burdens. Self discovery is the end product of a great challenge mastered, when the mind commands the body to do the seemingly impossible, when strength and courage are summoned to extraordinary limits for the sake of something outside the self – a principle, an onerous task, another human life.”

So, the ring of fire challenges (as well as climbing Denali) will provide many opportunities for my mind to command my body to do the seemingly impossible and for plenty of self-discovery along the way.

I recently attended a workshop where I was led in a guided meditation to find my animal totems. I connected instantly to the otter. Otters are playful, curious, and get food all over their bellies-just like me. Otters are fur-bearing animals as am I…or at least I was until last Wednesday when I plunged into the burning ring of fire. My friend, Jen, offered to wax my legs to get me ready for the big ring of fire task of a week of wearing dresses. I was a little worried by how gleeful she seemed at the task but when she said the effects of waxing would last longer than shaving, I was an immediate convert and accepted the invitation.

As the week wore towards Wednesday, nervousness passed likes choppy waves through my being. Would it hurt? Could I handle it? What would it be like to have my precious fur ripped from its follicles? Each day, I gave my leg hairs a sharp tug, “Yup-it’s gonna hurt,” I concluded. People told me their waxing horror stories. Others wished me luck. Others shock their heads in disbelief.

One thing I’ve learned in life is to pay attention to the advice of experts. Jen, my waxing expert, told me it was critical to exfoliate my legs prior to waxing to decrease the amount of pain…she implored “scrub your legs with a loofah to get them ready.” Of course with my training schedule, extra time to procure a loofah escaped me and Wednesday snuck up like a blizzard in October and I had 30 minutes to exfoliate before my appointment at Legs by Lokash. What was I to do? Risk extra pain and suffering by showing up with dead skin clinging to my legs? Arrive late having crossed town on a pilgrimage to Loofah? Do some creative problem-solving?

No doubt you know which I picked. In the waning moments, I brainstormed what I had in the house that resembled a loofah…a cheese grater… no, it would leave divots….60 grit sandpaper… no, it would leave no skin…Chore Boy Green Scrubby…yes, that’s it…I rushed down to my camping gear room, grabbed a new green scrubbing pad and hit the shower. 15 minutes later I appeared at Jen’s doorstep with glowing red legs and not a stitch of used skin. I was nervous. I was psyched for the pain. I was ready.

Jen created the perfect atmosphere…soft lighting, soft soothing music, red wine and Red Sox baseball on TV…with all this…could waxing be all that bad? As I was a novice waxee and since I had huge forests of old growth leg hair, Jen suggested that I start by trimming my hair with scissors. I quipped that I was putting in the logging roads so that she could come in and clear cut my forests…as I’m not the best at repetitive minute tasks, I quickly tired of clipping and asked her to get on it with it…she handed me a bullet to bite on and said we would start with a small patch. She spread the warm wax and pine pitch mixture on my shorn leg (as on outdoor educator, I’m always happy to learn new uses for pine pitch), she rubbed on the cotton like swatch and then gave it a quick snapping tug. Suddenly, my leg was virgin white and I giggled giddily and said…

“Is that it?”

“Where’s the big pain?”

“Where’s the suffering?”

“I meditated for days to get ready for this?”

60 minutes later I was no longer fur-bearing on the lower half of my body. I gained new appreciation for the intricacies of lower leg anatomy and I could hardly recognize my legs as my own. Like the women I interviewed last winter about their hockey experiences, I suddenly felt like I gained access to a culture I knew nothing about. Instead of discussing the finer points of slap shots versus snap shots, I could now wax eloquently about the pros and cons of waxing, identity several different waxing products, and I realized that would wax again (or at least have Jen do it.)

What does waxing have to do with climbing Denali? Good question. I think the biggest lesson I took from this week’s experience is that anticipation is often worse than the reality…to take each moment as it comes…and to surround oneself with knowledgeable experts.