Amy’s Place

Traveling isn’t often a bucket-list type of activity for me. I don’t tend to go places just to have been, to check them off the list. To me, a place is usually synonymous with an idea or an activity. Traveling is a verb, it’s something you do, not something you take in. How you travel has a direct effect on how you experience the place you’re moving through. You can choose to skim, to consume the culture in small bites only when you have the appetite, or you can dive into it, bathe in it, try to see it from the inside out and understand how it fits into the world you know, the world you came from. Despite making it a priority to budget large chunks of time off during my year, the term vacation doesn’t really resonate with me. Looking back though, this trip was something of a vacation, a vacation from my reality, from what I’m used to. I didn’t know what to expect from this trip. Sumatra had been a nagging idea in the back of my mind for years but how to make it happen, what I would do, how I would travel through a place so remote to my understanding, I just didn’t know. Somehow I found Amy’s Place, and now it all makes sense.

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Temple Traverse

I’ve been wanting to do this one for a while now. You’ve always had to go high for the snow, now you just have to go a bit higher. Temple Traverse via Gunsight Pass. Apparently I did it backwards which makes sense to me now, in the future I might also wait for more snow. My achilles is sore now which means I probably went a little hard, and wasn’t quite prepared for the amount of walking. 8hrs car to car with about 2 hrs on skis, 1/2 hr of which was spent descending through beach ball sized chunks of wet slide debris. Adventure.

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Stranded

It’s part of every traveler’s journey, we get stranded. It’s never what you want and rarely exactly what you expect. We run aground. Sometimes it’s as easy as jumping in knee deep water and pushing off again, other times you’ve got to wait till the tide changes. Occasionally, but not often, the ship breaks up and you’re cast adrift.

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Gnarnia

When you’re young you’re told of magic, myths, and miracles. You’re made to believe, to wonder about what’s out there, what’s real. It’s like a set up, or a trap, only it’s meant to make us want to discover. We’re told there are doors that will open into new worlds, realities that fulfill our wildest dreams. We can live however we want, be whoever we want. Continue reading “Gnarnia”

Enchanted

So often life takes energy. You have to stay focused, have direction. Things don’t just happen themselves, you have to work for it. But other times you find the flow. Opportunities seemingly fall in your lap, skeptically you reach out, things shouldn’t be this easy you think. Like a magnet you are drawn forward, unsure of your journey or destination. This is magic.

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The long road home.

Cars equal comfort.  They make things easier, faster, and less committing.  When you drive to the crag or the trailhead, it’s like you’re leaving a safety net in the parking lot.  With a bike, not so much.  When the day is done or the climb is over, there’s no jumping in the rig and punching the cruise control home.  When you’re cycling for transportation, the ride home is as integral a part of the climb as the summit, whether it’s a few blocks home from the gym, or a week-long ride back from the desert.  The lesson is this: the climb isn’t over when you reach the top.  You’ve still got to get down, you’ve still got to get home.  When you’re on the bike, there’s no easy escape, no quick way to pull the plug.  This requires commitment and dedication, but it also builds patience and understanding.

This is the last installment in our series of trip reports from the fall’s Pilgrims of Gnar expedition.  At 35 days and over 1500 miles of riding, this experience taught us a lot about ourselves, each other, and life on the bike.  A journey this long tends to change your perspective and leave you in a daze, but even as you readjust to the world around you, the important lessons and values avoid erosion.

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Zion National Park – A Bike to Climb Photojournal

I’ve been racking my brain, typing till my fingers bleed, trying every different angle, but none of it feels right.  This fall we cycled over 1500 miles across 5 states to spend 2 weeks climbing in one of my favorite places on Earth: Zion Canyon.  A trip report won’t do, and I’m not convinced there are any words or ways to convey to you just how much this life means to me, how much it’s changed the way I climb, live, and see the world.  I’d love to tell you about each pitch, each mile, every day and every climb, but I know that’s not how it works.  I want to grab hold of your shoulders, to shake you and show you what’s real, what’s important and why this life is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, but you’ll just think I’m crazy.

Maybe it’s the easy way out, maybe I’m missing something or just loosing touch with how to tell a story.  Maybe, but something tells me this trip was too big, to deep, and too crazy to properly share, and that my attempt with words will only confuse the issue.  What happened out there?  Sometimes even I wonder, but I rest easy knowing I shared it with my two best friends on earth, knowing they had their minds blown as wide as mine.  This time, I’m gonna keep my mouth shut.  This time, I’m gonna let the pictures tell the story.

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