You were born an original. Don’t die a copy. ~John Mason
I would not waste my life in friction when it could be turned into momentum. ~Frances Willard
They will rise highest who strive for the highest place.
–Latin Proverb
If only I may grow: firmer, simpler, quieter, warmer. ~Dag Hammarskjold
This morning as I pulled my tire up the hill, I looked over at Natelle in the early morning light and said, “We’re cracked.” Natelle answered, “No, I am the truly cracked one.” It’s true…I had left a perfectly warm bed but I had a good reason. Natelle, on the other hand, left hers to support me. And for that I am very grateful. I’m also thankful to all who’ve ordered T-shirts, purchased toques, and sent donations. Each step of support gives me a deeper well of strength to draw on when the going gets tough.
I am very pleased to welcome the Newfoundland and Labrador Credit Union as a sponsor for Mount Vinson 2011. I enjoyed our partnership during Everest 2010 and I look forward to sharing the journey with their clients and employees.
I’m off to soak up some sun and some warmth in Florida for the next week while attending a conference. When I return, I’ll be all eyes forward to “Number Six.”
The difference between ordinary and extraordinary is that little extra. ~Jimmy Johnson
I didn’t expect to get out on a hill today. Rather I thought I would be cooped up in a stuffy hotel conference room all day. Luckily for me, we had a few hours off from the AUCC 100th Anniversary conference today to get out and explore Montreal. I, of course, headed directed to Mount Royal. If I lived here, it would definitely be on my training agenda. I enjoyed climbing all the stairs to the top, circumnavigating the trails at the top, and watching all the folks getting out and active on a lovely fall day. The maples are in full red glory and I was reminded that fall is my favourite season.
35 days…five weeks…wasn’t it just 49 days and 7 weeks a few days ago? Now 35 days sounds longer than five weeks. I continue to fill the tug of the tension between “It’s coming on way too fast and I won’t be ready” and “Alright already…I’m ready-let’s go.” I hear the weather hasn’t been very cooperative yet and few polar expeditions have made it to the ice yet. Vinson expeditions will begin in about three weeks or so.
Do what you can, with what you have, where you are. ~Theodore Roosevelt
Pick battles big enough to matter, small enough to win. ~Jonathan Kozel
The Dreaded 100 Stair Staircase on Signal Hill
I’ve had this idea before. And I am sure many others have as well (it’s hard to have a truly original idea I think)…but anyone, I hope someone will see this post, seize this idea, and run with it. You don’t even need to cite me 🙂
So there I was, pulling my tire up Signal Hill, littering the hill with sweat droplets because the sun decided to shine today for only the 32 minutes during which I was working very hard to take my tire for a walk up the hill. Then the re-eureka moment (as I said I’ve had the thought before)…”I wish pulling this tire up the hill was doing some good. Some real good.”
There it is…the birth of a new exercise movement…”Working Out for Good.” On so many occasions, I’ve lamented that much of all the working out we do in North America is good for ourselves but not good for others (it is good for others in some ways-the exercise keeps us healthy and keeps us out of the health care system, etc…). So as I was labouring hard up the hill, I wished my labour was doing some good like carrying serum to Nome to fight diphtheria (The Iditarod Races commemorate that historic overland trip), heaving huge bags of food relief across a refuge camp, sledge-hauling towards the South Pole like Amundsen and Scott, or building houses with Habitat for Humanity.
Yes, my labour was getting me ready for the rigours of Antarctica but I wondered if it could be doing more…
I dream of a clearing house for Working Out for Good…perhaps a website…where folks who need manual labour done could register and folks who need to do manual labour (i.e. most of us…we usually call it exercise or fitness or training) could be brought together to have our workouts work for good. When I was in boot camp last spring, we used to hit a big tire with a sledge hammer…imagine if I was driving posts for a community garden instead of just whacking the tire. Last week when I was doing sand bag get-ups and moved over 2000 pounds of sand in ten minutes-might it have been better if I moved than ton across a Habitat build site. Now, I admit the logistics would be tricky…and we all like to have our work-out/training routines…I get that…it helps me get them done too…but I’m sure there is some bright creative people out there who can solve these tricky little hitches and have me carrying someone’s groceries up seven flights of stairs instead of my backpack up the Signal Hill stairs.
So let’s harness all this good working out we’re doing for good…let’s start generating energy with all those treadmills, stationary bikes, and rowing ergs. Let’s move building supplies, fertilizer, and groceries instead of barbells. Let’s get working out for good. Some please steal this idea…I’ll be the first to sign up! And if you know of any such programs like this-please send the info my way. I’ll pass the info around.
Have courage for the great sorrows of life and patience for the small ones; and when you have laboriously accomplished your daily task, go to sleep in peace. ~Victor Hugo
Sometimes it’s more important to be human, than to have good taste. ~Brecht
I’d like to introduce Bobble-Head Ted (BHT). I won him from the local CBC radio station. BHT is a mighty fine bobble-head replica of the afternoon “On the Go” show’s host, Ted Blades. The idea is that folks who won would take BHT on various adventures and to interesting locations. BHT joins an illustrious lineage of accompanying teammates for me: Flat Stanley the First, Flat Stanley the Second, Velma the Vanilla Dip, and App the Apple.
BHT is a bit heftier than the rest, being 3-D and weighing in at 250 grams. Our baggage allowance is tight for Antarctica and overage is charged out at $30 per pound! I may have to sneak BHT aboard the Ilyushin Il-76 in my pocket! BHT joined me and a few friends on a training hike yesterday. I loved the trail sign above and we didn’t truly grasp the meaning of “no exit point” until we’d hiked 17 km over some fairly rugged terrain, we looking down on Bauline, and had no flagging tape to lead us there. “Ah, that’s what they meant”. We bushwhacked down and celebrated covering a new piece of coast line. It was good training piece for me. Between Thursday and Saturday’s hikes, I’d put almost 40 km on my feet and 2500 metres of elevation gain.
Here’s a short gallery of my previous teammates:
Flat Stanley the First with Everest and Lhotse in the background
App the Apple and I on the summit of Aconcagua, highest peak in South America.
Flat Stanley the First and I on the summit of Kilimanjaro, highest peak in Africa
Velma the Vanilla Dip and I on the summit of Mount Elbrus, highest peak in Europe.
Flat Stanley the Second and I on the summit of Kala Patar, a trekking peak in Nepal
Flat Stanley the Second and I chilling out in the tent…BHT has been eyeing Flat’s sleeping bag!
Velma the Vanilla Dip meeting her long long Australian cousin, Sprinkles.
If you surrender to the wind, you can ride it. ~Toni Morrison
Now that it’s all over, what did you really do yesterday that’s worth mentioning? ~Coleman Cox
Maybe I should caption this one, “The Great Pumpkin.” Rather than a giant squash however, it’s me nearing the end of a 20 km training hike pretty darn soggy from a stormy day. It rained and showered much of the time I was out hiking from Outer Cover to town via the East Coast Trail and Signal Hill. When I first started out, I thought, “Wow…this 35 pounds doesn’t feel so bad-more like 20 used to feel.” By the time I was hobbling down Signal Hill as my last kilometre, I knew I had shlepped a load and my feet were complaining loudly since they spent a decent part of the day hiking on asphalt between trail segments.
I started out on Doran’s Lane heading for Torbay Point and the turned and headed to Red Cliff. I’d been to Torbay Point before but not to the top of Red Cliff. It’s always a bonus when training takes you out into new territory. I ended the day with 5.5 hours on my feet and 1000 metres of elevation gain to my name. I could also have called this update 41 is the new 21. Though there is just less than six weeks on the countdown, I was astounded to see (since I am traveling next week) that there is really about 21 real prep days to go! Eeeeeekkk!
I received my last briefing letter from the Vinson outfitter I am using and it added a few more things to the to do list. Mostly I am feeling pretty relaxed, excited, and smiling from ear to ear that I will be visiting my seventh continent in no time from now.
You will turn over many a futile new leaf till you learn we must all write on scratched-out pages. ~Mignon McLaughlin
Enjoy when you can, and endure when you must.
~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Good for the body is the work of the body, and good for the soul is the work of the soul, and good for either is the work of the other.
~Henry David Thoreau
TA invites you to purchase a limited edition Mount Vinson fundraising T-shirt. To simplify life, love, and the pursuit of penguins, the t-shirts will be offered on a pre-order only basis. Please email TA with your order with “T-SHIRT ORDER” in the subject line and the quantity, size, and colour T-shirt(s) you wish to order. Please place your order before October 28, 2011.
The art work for the T-shirt was painted by TA’s nephew, Xander. The T-shirts are being printed by Living Planet here in St. John’s and the cost is $25 taxes in per T-shirt. If you live outside of St. John’s, shipping costs will also apply.
T-shirts are available in unisex adult sizing and youth sizes are also available: Youth sizes XS (2-4), S (6-8), M (10-12), L (14-16), XL (18-20).
The T-shirts are GILDAN 100% ultra cotton and the colour options are listed below:
| Colours | |
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Black |
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Cardinal Red |
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Daisy |
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Dark Chocolate |
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Forest Green |
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Gold |
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Indigo |
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Irish Green |
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Kelly Green |
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Light Blue |
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Light Pink |
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Lime |
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Maroon |
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Navy |
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Orange |
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Purple |
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Red |
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Royal Blue |
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Sand |
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Tangerine |
The Artist: Xander
When I reached the top of Signal Hill with my tire today, I found myself giggling at this sign. I wondered where my trunk was since all I had was the wheel of a car.
One woman came over and said, “I just have to ask.” I answered the unspoken question, “I can’t afford to buy gas.”
She replied, “No really, I can’t go back and tell that stranger in the car over there, the wrong answer. ”
“OK”, I said, “I’m training for a mountain in Antarctica that requires that we pull sleds.”
“Just as I figured” she responded, shook hands with me, and turned to go tell the curious guy over in another car.
I fielded lots of questions on the hill today. It was a gorgeous day and it was 3:30 in the afternoon rather than 6:30 in the morning…thus a half of St. John’s was driving, wheeling, and walking up the hill.
The first half of the the first pull felt like it was going to kill me. My calves, engorged with blood, felt like they would explode a shower of lactic acid all over the road. My tire was bouncing annoyingly behind me. My Garmin flapped in the wind. My mind wrapped up in a blanket of perceived suffering. I eagerly awaited each preordained break spot and quickly turned to face downhill to give my legs a rest. I kept wondering why is was being so hard.
“Probably yesterday’s six ascents/descents might be a clue” I chimed in. Funny how that works. I’d read recently about a study that found we can sometimes talk ourselves out of pain so I thought I would try some of the hints the article gave. I started paying attention to the sights around me rather than how my achilles felt tighter than violin string. I watched each sweat drop splatter against the white pavement marking and then glisten in the sun. I gave thanks that I had the physical ability to be pulling the tire.
At some point, I realized my legs had stopped hurting. I wasn’t setting any speed records because I gave myself permission to take it a bit easy since I’d put in a big day the day before. Once I relaxed into the situation (as advised earlier in the day by my Buddhist teacher-thanks Moh), it became much more manageable in my mind (and body). The giving up of all the chatter in my mind about how hard it was being, made it easier…and once that constant noise quieted down, I knew I could pull off two pulls up the hill.
I know I have had this lesson before. Sometimes it takes more than once I guess. It takes awhile for my body to get going and while that warm up period is under way, it feels very hard and that feeling triggers the thought, “I don’t know if I can do this.” What I have experienced in the last two days, and on many many mountains, is that it usually gets better. It gets easier. I just need to be patient, calm the dizzying discourse of difficulty that develops in my mind, relax, and just keep stepping. When I came down off the hill today, I saw that a few people had liked today’s Visual Soliloquy. Its quote seems an apt reminder for me when the going gets tough.
What saves a person is to take a step. Then another step. It is always the same step, but you have to take it. ~Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
Thanks to all who honked, waved, and took the time to stop and wish me good luck on the hill. I appreciate all of your kindness and well wishes.
What saves a person is to take a step. Then another step. It is always the same step, but you have to take it. ~Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
Gratitude is an art of painting an adversity into a lovely picture. ~Kak Sri
I spent the morning on Signal Hill. I’d originally thought I would do my tire pulls before starting my ascent rounds on the hill but then I remembered the Cape to Cabot run was happening this morning. I was pretty certain they didn’t need me contributing to the congestion on the hill so I stuck to the trails and left my tire behind for the morning. I’m up to six Signal Hills with 35 pounds in my pack. My legs felt pretty strong but I was feeling pretty dragged out when I first started. The first two ascents were tough but then I seemed to warm up and they got easier.
It was fun hearing people cheer each time I topped out. They were cheering on the runners who’d just run the very hilly 20 km from Cape Spear to Cabot Tower road race. I found myself wishing that some how the route up a mountain could be lined with such raucous cheerleaders like this running race…with folks cheering wildly and banging pots to help runners/me push hard to the finish/summit. Mountaineering is a much less public sport…usually done in small teams in remote locations with cheers coming sometimes where you return home. I realize that I carry my cheering squad in my mind…that images of friends will come to mind or things people have said will pop up and become inspiration when I need it most. It can be deeply lonely out there but I do appreciate all the kind thoughts and well wishes that I receive and carry with me.
I’ve been trying to get clarity on what to tackle next after Vinson but as of yet, which path to take from the intersection isn’t clear…more like I’m on a roundabout…driving my mind in circles trying to sort out which road to take and where exactly I want to head. I reassure myself that all are good choices and will lead to more adventures and resultant life lessons. It can be tricky to have to be planning what’s coming next next before the next is even done. The one thing for sure, walking uphill for hours on end gives lots of time for dreaming and scheming on such matters.
Gratitude is the memory of the heart. ~Jean Baptiste Massieu
Vinson Massif, the highest peak in Antarctica is located at 78°35’S, 85°25’W. It is truly massive at 21 km long and 13 km wide. It lies in the central part of the “comma tail” (my description) where the tail meets the circular body of the continent. Vinson is part of the main ridge of the Sentinel Range of the Ellsworth mountains. It was first climbed in 1966 by an American team.
The most remote of the Seven Summits, Vinson is 4897metres high (16,076 ft). Rumour has it that Vinson’s summit feels 1000 metres higher than it actually is because of the thinning of the earth’s atmosphere near the poles. It is located 1000 kilometres from the South Pole. During the climb, we will have 24 hours of daylight and the average temperature for that time of the year is minus 27 degrees C (temperatures on the summit can be as low as minus 50).
Vinson was named for US Senator, Carl Vinson, who promoted Antarctic exploration. The exact number is hard to know but it seems approximately 1200 people have summited Vinson Massif since 1966.
Silent gratitude isn’t much use to anyone. ~G.B. Stern
This new training program has me running again. Thankfully I am back up to an hour of running without any major challenges thus far. I ran outside Wednesday around Quidi Vidi lake and again this morning from the house. In light of a tradition I started in 2004 (and that came to mind this morning as I headed out), I walked up to Forest Road to begin my run. It would have been great to see the “red car” or even the brown one. Seeing either would mean my friend and Buddhist mentor, Susan, was still living in YYT.
Alas, she’s way out west in warmer and greener climes, but I still feel her affirming presence on Forest Road. The sub title of today’s entry refers to a book I have yet to publish, “A Year on Denali” and it speaks to my idea that I am on the (figurative flanks of a mountain as soon as I decide to climb it-this I was on Denali for a year rather than only the month the I spent climbing it. Below is an excerpt from that book, which explains the “red car” and Forest Road a bit more…and now it isn’t just 18 months later, it’s seven years…wow seven years on this mountainous path…who knew?
It came first as a gentle whisper scarcely heard amid the rowers’ blades on the lake. I paid little heed because Denali was impossible. Next, Denali beckoned my attention by competing with the coxswains’ calls for pace and speed as the Regatta rowers plied the waters in preparation for their big day. I ignored the call once more for Denali was still impossible. Finally, Denali, like its famous winds, screamed loudly making itself heard over the crowds cheering wildly for the August scullers of St. John’s. While watching the athletes push themselves to exhaustion, I knew I’d found the way. I knew how to find myself again. I knew how to awaken myself. I would aim for the impossible. I would climb Denali.
I rekindled the dream. Like a tiny spark in a tinder bundle, it sat waiting for the oxygen of commitment to fan it into dancing flames. As I began to give breath to my Denali dream, I told no one. I knew my commitment to the dream was far too tenuous to share with others at this early juncture. I needed to prove to myself that I was up to the task, or at least up to the task of training for Denali. I decided to train for a month before telling anyone else or before officially signing up for the climb.
I made a photo collage of pictures from my trip to Denali National Park. I combined two pictures of the mountain, a picture of my eye, and a picture of a long dirt road. Between the photos, I typed the words, “How bad do you want it?” I took the collage everywhere I went. I put the collage in a prominent place in my office where I couldn’t help but see it hundreds of times per day. I took the collage to step aerobics and propped it up against my water bottle so I could view it constantly. I took it to the gym on my clipboard. I placed it on my night table. I ate dinner beside it. I needed to ask myself that question thousands of times before I would be ready to answer it.
I knew climbing Denali would require deep wells of aerobic reserve so I chose to use running as the major form of cardio activity. I had completed a class at the Running Room so I knew I should start slow and work my way up in both distance and time. That first morning, I headed out along Forest Road. I knew this route would take me by the red car. It was red like an old-fashioned fire engine. It perched on the street like a giant fiery ladybug. It was one of only a handful of Madza 323 hatchbacks in the city—you couldn’t miss it.
My friend Susan owned the car. I knew Susan believed in me, therefore her car must believe in me as well. So in those first tentative unshared days of training, I started each run near the car to extract courage, determination, and support from its rusty frame. Eighteen months later, I still start my runs on Forest Road even though the red car lives there no more—I suppose its essence is enough to spur me on. For the first week, I completed “one and ones.” I ran for one minute and then walked for one minute. Ran for one minute. Walked for one minute. I repeated this cycle ten times and went about 2 kilometers with feet and lungs dragging. “How can I ever be ready?” I asked myself. Denali seemed so high and so far away. Doubt flooded every step.
Knowledge of what is does not open the door directly to what should be. –Albert Einstein
49 days! Seven weeks. Somehow seven weeks sounds longer. That it takes longer to live a week than seven days. Until a week zips by. I’m appreciating the countdown. It keeps me on my toes. It reminds me that every moment is precious whether I am preparing for a mountain or not. It’s funny how I both want the time to speed up (I’m tired of training and just want to get on with the adventure) and to slow down (holy crow-am I going to be ready in time?).
This quote by Steve Jobs caught my eye of late, “Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma – which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of other’s opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.”
In many ways, when I am preparing for a climb, most secondary things fall away as I have to make decisions about what to give up since training fills more of my time. Life often comes down to eating, sleeping, training and whatever else I can stuff in. There gets to be a momentum that keeps me buoyed and focused.
I included the photo above which is from some presentations I do and the life lesson of pausing to appreciate how far we’ve come (the red circle circles the tents/camp that we we carried a load from onto Karsten’s Ridge on Denali. I often say, “when you are in the bowl of oatmeal, you can’t tell you’ve had a bite.” So on 40 days left, I’m pausing to reflect on the value of keeping track that both time and life are flowing by and hoping that I am making the best possible choices along the way. That and appreciating that I pulled another minute off my 500 step-up time this morning…I’ve gotten six minutes faster…which gives me back six precious moments in which to be present and accounted in…
I cannot pretend to be impartial about the colours. I rejoice with the brilliant ones, and am genuinely sorry for the poor browns.
–Winston Churchill
Happy Thanksgiving! I’ve had a great long weekend in Twillingate visiting my friends Deb and Wilma and their new adventure, The Anchor Inn. As I got five out of five training days in last week, I was able to take the whole weekend to slow down and relax. Marian and I had fun hiking the trails, harvesting edible mushrooms, and picking berries. We’ve been treated to some amazing hospitality and I got to eat four Thanksgiving dinners. All stores are replenished for when training and urban life begins again tomorrow.
I’m thankful for all those who surround me with love and support. It’s great to slow down and take notice and express my appreciation to all of you.
Speed kills colour… the gyroscope, when turning at full speed, shows up gray.
–Paul Morand quotes
We started our day with the delicious Sunday brunch at the Anchor Inn. Chef Edward and his staff provided a wonderful assortment of dishes from which to choose and I made several trips up to fill my plate. My favourite dish was “Eggs in a Hole” (pictured below), followed closely by the fish cakes.
The Anchor Inn’s dining room has an awesome view on the Twillingate Harbour. Just across the harbour, behind the salmon coloured historic building, there is an iceberg (get out your x-ray vision). Iceberg season this year in Twillingate is still on the go thanks to the Peterson Ice Island.
With full tummies, we headed out to the Top of Twillingate Hiking Trail to try to (hopefully) pick some squash berries and so some mushrooming. The hike did not disappoint. With the crisp weather, the fall woods were full of the wonderful aromas of autumn and mushrooms had popped up all over the place. Turns out that someone else had beaten us to most of the squash berries (pictured below) but we did manage to drop a few in our bag.
We stopped to take in the view and noticed a fine crop of partridge berries waiting for harvest. It’s always good to pick partridge berries (pictured below) after the first frost because (I hear) the frost drives the worms out of the berries. Partridge berries are excellent for baking into muffins, giving colour to apple crisp, and delicious as jam.
Soon after the partridge berries, we discovered a nice patch of winter chanterelles (Craterellus tubaeformis…pictured below). We also found some hedgehogs, suillus cavipes, and lactarius thyinos (we are all edible we hear-if you haven’t seen a blog post from me in the next week, blame it on the mushrooms). We’ll take them home and saute them up with onions.
All in all, a fine day of edible adventures both indoor and out. Marian, in the picture below, is showing off our bountiful bounty that will provide many more edible adventures to come.
I’ve dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas; they’ve gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the colour of my mind.–Emily Bronte
Mere colour, unspoiled by meaning, and unallied with definite form, can speak to the soul in a thousand different ways. –Oscar Wilde
Each place is the right place–the place where I now am can be a sacred space. ― Ravi Ravindra
In the end, just three things matter:
How well we have lived
How well we have loved
How well we have learned to let go
― Jack Kornfield
I love this shot that Natelle took this morning! The blurring of the pavement as I drag the tire ever upward. It was one of those morning where, when the alarm first went off and the house was shaking in the wind, that I contemplated rolling over and going back to sleep. Fortunately, I’d made a date to meet Natelle at the top of Signal Hill. Fortunately, neither of us had checked the weather forecast the day before as we might not have consented to going out into the 80 kph gusts and driving rain.
Turns out it wasn’t that bad out. It usually seems worse when you are still in a warm bed. Much worse. So much worse that we have a rule in sea kayaking that we never do a “weather check” from within a sleeping bag (as the weather would often be “too bad” to paddle from such a horizontal evaluation position). So I’m grateful to Natelle that she, too, crawled out of warm, dry, comfy repose to meet me to do the absurd act of pulling a tire up Signal Hill more than once. For the absurd is best done with company. It’s much more fun that way, and if by chance, it’s not fun…misery loves company.
At this point on the hill, I got philosophical. I had had a train of thought that went something like this…”This is a tough thing to be doing this morning…maybe the toughest of anyone near here.” That thought was quickly followed by, “Yes, this is a tough thing but it is by no means the toughest. Some people are rising to a day filled with grief and having to say good bye to a loved one, some are facing a day of chemotherapy, some will be cold and wet all day for lack of adequate housing. This is tough yes but many many many have it tougher. And some have it easier right now.” I wished I’d been pulling my tire up the middle of the road, because in that moment, I was truly in touch with the Buddhist teaching of the Middle Way. Not too tight, not too loose. I’m not special or separate in a good way. I’m not special or separate in a bad way. I just am. And so is everyone else. There will always be those who are swifter, braver, faster and those who are facing more hurdles and more suffering than I am and my job as a human is to stay open to all people and all experiences.
The everyday practice is simply to develop complete acceptance and openness to all situations and emotions, and to all people, experiencing everything totally without reservations or blockages so that one never withdraws or centralizes into oneself. –Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche
TA Loeffler's Adventures that Move 
