Starving For Oxygen

Somewhere on the way up Bierstadt.

I  know it's been a hot minute since I posted last. Update: I'm still alive. I've stopped playing Pokemon Go. I believe I've regained my true identity. 

I'm allowed to mountain bike again. While I can't do any gnarly jumps or downhill tracks until next summer, Caleb and I have been out to Oil Well Flats to ride. I actually traded my mountain bike for a rifle. Not because I'm never going to ride again. That's preposterous. But I'd actually been trying to sell my old Gary Fisher for a while and, well, it's old and none of the real enthusiasts out here wanted that old hunk. But one of Caleb's friends rode it and wanted it, so he gave me a rifle. I don't even know what kind it is. 7mm WSM? We have another mountain bike I've been riding. It's a hard tail, but since I'm only allowed to ride easy trails right now, it's perfect for me. Over the winter Caleb is going to build me a new bike from the ground up so I'll have a sick new ride come next summer when I can rip again. I know he'll make sure to build a super capable bike, so my only request is that it looks cool.

In the mean time, we've taken up the cliche' hobby of climbing 14ers.

At the top of Mt. Sherman.

I'm not 100% sure why we got into this. I think it has to do with me not being able to do anything particularly fun. I couldn't ride, run, climb, or swim, so I took up hiking while Caleb was mountain biking. Then my doctor said I should start carrying a light pack around a few times a week to deal with the sensitivity over my collarbone where I had my surgery. So of course the only logical solution is to climb one of the fifty something mountains over 14,000 ft in the state of Colorado. I think those pain meds the doc gave me must have done permanent damage, cause I actually went through with this. Caleb and I loaded up and took the dogs to Mt. Sherman one weekend.

At the top of Bierstadt, starving for oxygen.

We summitted and I was happy to never do one again. But then Caleb did another one on his own. And I volunteered to do another with him the next weekend. I don't know why. I hated ever minute of going up. Except when we stopped and I got to eat watermelon candies we brought.. Then at the top, for some reason, I thought I was having fun. I think it had to do with the lack of oxygen. For someone who is used to having a healthy supply of oxygen in their lungs, it can make you a little loopy.. And sick. And delusional enough to think you're having fun. But the view is nice, so there's that. The best part though is always getting back to the truck. The dogs get in and pass out and we roll down all the windows, and, hoping they'll have enough energy to bite anyone who tries to steal our stuff, we leave them there. And go get margaritas and beer and the biggest cheat meal we can fit in out stomachs. Because we earned it.

We've only done two mountains so far, but weather

Handies Peak, Colorado. AKA, the baby Fitz Roy.

and mechanic issues on our new jeep permitting, we're going to do another this weekend. Probably Handies. Cause it looks beautiful. And it reminds me of a really tiny version of Mt. Fitz Roy in Patagonia. And while I don't necessarily want to climb Mt. Fitz Roy, I'm going to see it first hand one day. If I ever find myself in South America, I'm going to detour to go see it. I don't care if I'm in French Ghana and I have to hitch hike and figure out a way to make money the whole way. It's gonna happen, y'all.

Mt. Fitz Roy, Chile-Argentina border, Patagonia.

 Anyway. That's all I really have for now. I'll post again next time I pick up a new hobby, break a bone, or win the lottery.

March 13th.

On 13 March 2015 some of you will recall I was on Belize's island of Caye Caulker with my friend Dave. It was my very first trip outside the United States, and it proved to be quite eventful. It was a Friday the 13th, the power and running water were out for the whole island. We went snorkeling where I swallowed my fear of open water (and a lot of ocean water). Then I drank a few too many beers to dilute the saltwater, and with the reassurance of Dave and Seb, a British fellow we met at The Split, dove into the ocean to swim the 100 meter split and back. While a storm rolled in. And I nearly drowned in the ocean.

Belize was probably the best trip of my life. I'd been wanting for as long as I could remember to just drop everything on a moment's notice and take a flight to anywhere outside the U.S. and go for an adventure. I may have had a twenty-four hour notice, but it satisfied my need just fine. Much better, in fact, than the month long solo tour in Europe. Because, while my plane ticket to Spain was a one-way ticket, I bought it six weeks in advance. It was like biting into a bitter piece of candy. I loved it, but it wasn't nearly as awesome as sitting on a dock in the Caribbean knowing that only twenty-four hours prior, I'd had no plans to leave the states. It was liberating and I wouldn't trade that experience for any other.

If, while I was sitting on that dock, someone had told me I would be getting married in a year, I wouldn't have believed them. If they showed me some sort of proof, I probably would have cried. At that point in my life nothing sounded better than being single for the rest of my life. The very thought of a relationship almost made me gag. Marriage, for me, has pretty much always sounded like a trap. It was as if, at the wedding ceremony, the priest who married you sucked all the fun out of your life and brain washed you. You began as this fun-loving, adventure having, spontaneous person and were magically transformed into just another suburbian with a white picket fence and HOA fees. You stopped traveling, skydiving, mountain biking, and basically anything else awesome and started mowing the yard on Saturdays and taking long Sunday naps.

Thank God that's not true. I mean, it could be. We haven't had our wedding ceremony yet. The Chaplain very well might put a curse on us and turn us into normal-ass people. But so far, Caleb and I have done quite well to keep adventure a regular part of our lives. We rock climb, ride dirt bikes, go hiking and camping, and even have plans to drive the Pan American in our truck. With the dirt bikes, of course. I'm convinced there's nothing the Chaplain can say on 13 March 2016 that will change the person I was on 13 March 2015 except that I'll be married and I'll have a reliable partner in my adventures. Someone I know is as strong and capable as he is intelligent and adventurous. In two weeks I'll go from being a solo traveler who wakes up and says, "I think I'm going to fly to Ireland today" to someone who, over dinner, says, "Hey, wanna drive to Red Rocks in Vegas next weekend to climb?" or, "Let's go to Germany." And while we may have to limit our overseas travels while we're tied to the Army, that's a sacrifice I'm willing to make so I can keep this guy around.

Moral of the story, marriage isn't a trap (probably). Having kids is a whole different story though. Having kids is definitely a trap. Use birth control.

I'll Have A Day On The Rocks, Please.

In my last post, I mentioned that I'd taken up rock climbing since I moved to Colorado, but I didn't really say anything else about it. That's because I'm basically in love with rock climbing and it deserves its very own post.

You may remember when I went to AZ with Leo, he took me on my first rock climbing adventure. My second climbing venture happened on my trip to Italy. While I was there I met a complete stranger off of tinder who offered to take me climbing. Of course, everyone in Italy then was a complete stranger. But this one was an American stationed in Vicenza. So I met him at the train station with my shoes, a beaner, my ATC, and enough webbing to make a harness (because that's all the rock climbing gear I took on my backpacking trip), jumped in his car, and let him drive me to a whole other city half an hour away. Yes, I recognize the safety concerns involved in this endeavor, but you know what? I'm still here. And I got to go rock climbing. And I made an awesome friend that day! Paul, who I still talk to, took me to Lugminano and explained how it had been one of the biggest rock climbing places in Italy back in the 80's. It was probably a class 3 hike in, but there were soooo many routes! Paul didn't know what the names of the routes were, or what they were graded at (they use a different grading system in Europe than we do here in the states, anyway) but it was fun!

Climbing in Lugminano, Italy. Paul let me borrow his harness!

That day I basically decided when I came back to the states I was going to go learn to climb somewhere.. I initially thought I was going to buy a beat up old van or something and drive it to red rocks just outside of Vegas and just camp out and climb for a few months. Obviously, that's not what happened. And I'm glad it didn't. I really like frequent showers.

When I moved most of my things up here to Colorado in May, I wasted exactly zero time. I was only here for a week before I was to start my road trip to the North East, pretty much only owned what I'd had in Italy plus a harness (climbing in a Swiss seat made from webbing is never fun), I had no idea what I was actually doing, didn't know anyone in the area who climbed, and I had a severely pulled bicep tendon that was still healing. None of those seemed like good reasons to not go climbing. It took me all of two days in Colorado before I found a random person on facebook with enough experience to teach myself and my new roommate the climbing basics. Again, I met two complete stranger in a parking lot at some ungodly early hour and drove off into the mountains with them. Except this time with my roommate. I have yet to regret a spontaneous adventure, and I'm quite glad I took this one.

My roommate and I, climbing at Clear Creek.

I learned the basics of climbing that day, and since I got back from my road trip, I've gone on several climbing ventures. In the last two months I've gone from someone who didn't know what cleaning was to climbing a multi-pitch called "Lost in the Jungle," leading and cleaning routes up to 5.9s, and just last week I climbed a 5.10C called "Via Comatose Amigo." To say that I'm in love with this sport would be putting it mildly. My goal is to be able to lead a 5.11 by the end of the year, and perhaps one day do a climbing competition. Which makes me wonder why I'm sitting on my couch right now instead of climbing... I should do something about that.

Making my way up Via Comatose Amigo - A 5.10C

Ireland: Cliffs of Moher and the Blarney Castle

I'm a little late with this post because I've been doing other things.. Very important things.. Like drinking my life away in Italy. It's been a good time. Anyway, here's my experience with a couple tourist stops in Ireland. More to come later. 

Note: since I'm too young to rent a car in Ireland, I did all of my tours with Paddywagon tours. They have busses leaving pretty much every day from Dublin, Belfast, Cork, and a few other places, and they stop at all kinds of cool little spots on the way to your main destination so you actually get to see quite a bit. All of their tour guides were very nice and friendly and knew a lot about the places we went. If you can't rent a car, or are too cheap, I recommend using them. 

Cliffs of Moher

For those of you who are fans of The Princess Bride, the Cliffs of Moher are THE CLIFFS OF INSANITY! Yeah, they're real. It's ok, I thought they were a movie set too until I turned 5 and discovered how to use the Internet. They're on the west side of Ireland just a little way south of Galway. Galway looked like a pleasant little town, and everyone I talked to spoke highly of it. If I'd had a car and not been too cheap for a train ticket I would've stayed there for a couple of days. The Paddywagon tour stops in a town called Doolin for lunch. In Doolin there's a bar called Flanagin's. It's kind of amazing. If I'm ever foolish enough to get married, I'm doing it in Ireland just so that place can cater the wedding. Which, I don't think they cater, but I'll figure that out. They also stopped at the "baby cliffs" which are only about 100 ft high. They stop there first so you won't be completely underwhelmed when you make it to the real ones. 

The real Cliffs of Moher stand about 700 ft tall. You don't really get a true appreciation of just how high that is through pictures though. You kind of have to go. If you can help it, go when it's not pouring rain, because if it's stormy or there's a lot of mist, you can't see much. Don't get discouraged if the weather forecast is calling for rain though, there's rarely a day in Ireland that it doesn't rain. It rained while I was there and I still saw the cliffs just fine. Take a rain coat instead of an umbrella though; and for you ladies and men with luscious locks, go ahead and tie up your hair. The west coast of the island is quite windy, and on top of the cliffs there's not much to break it. I'm pretty sure if they had half a dozen wind mills on the cliffs, Ireland would have clean energy for decades. Hats are a bad idea too. 

When you get there, I suggest breaking the rules. All of them. When you get on the trail past the gift shop and take your first glance at the cliffs, you can go left or right. Going right will take you up a little hill to a round castle looking thing where the guy that used to run the town would take his women (he was a womanizer, the local husbands weren't his fan), for a romantic view. I can kind of see why they went for it, cause the view really is incredible. On the trail to get there, if the winds are high like they were when I was there, there's actually a spot where the wind carries the ocean spray all the way up and onto the sidewalk. You're seven hundred feet above the ocean and you can hear the waves crashing on the rock, and then you feel the spray on your face. Kind of awesome if you ask me. 

There's no rules to break there though unless you want to climb on the tower, breach a castle door, or do some deadly cliff diving. However, if you go left, you'll soon come to a sign that says not to pass it. Pass it. Cops aren't going to come after you. I honestly didn't even see the sign because of all the people who were walking right past it. It's really just there so they can't be held liable if you fall and die. There's a narrow trail with a wire fence on the left and kind of a rock slab wall on the right. It's quite safe. Next, go over that rock wall. There's kind of a trail on that side of the rock wall as well, but it leaves nothing between you and the edge of the cliffs except the wind. The trail can be wide in places and narrow in others, and it can be a little muddy, but it's really not bad and the view is ssssooooo much better! 

You really can't go wrong if you visit this place. I feel like even if you were there when it was misty, you could still get some pretty good pictures. You'll probably have the uncontrollable urge to watch The Princess Bride too, so just go ahead and pack that. 

The Blarney Castle

When most people think of the Blarney Castle, they think of the Blarney Stone and being granted eloquent, flattering speech. I have two things to say to that. First, there's a lot more to this place than just the stone. Second, I kissed that stone and I wouldn't say that my speech has changed at all. It certainly didn't help me in Italy, where I arrived with a vocabulary consisting of "thank you" and "whore island" (thank you, Sterling Archer). Thanks, for nothing, stone. 

The Blarney Castle itself really is quite a sight. There are a lot of castles around Ireland, but many of them aren't this intact. This one has obviously had some maintenance done on it, but it's still awesome. When I got there, there was a choir group singing at the base of the castle distracting everyone. Since I have the apparently unique ability to appreciate someone singing without watching them move their mouth, I passed the crowd and made it to the entrance before everyone else. Score one for me. Inside the castle is really nice, but on the way up, it's pretty much a straight shot to the stone. At the top, take a second to enjoy the view, and maybe put on some Chapstick. After all, the locals piss on this thing at night, so having a nice protective layer between you and that nastiness probably isn't a bad thing.. That could be why my speech isn't flattering though.. Kiss at your own risk, I suppose. You have to literally lay down and bend over backwards over a hole in the floor to kiss the stone. Don't worry though, there's a mat there to lay on, and someone there holds you to make sure you don't fall, and another to take your picture. They're probably the same ones that relieve themselves on the stone though. 

The way down from the top is a little more interesting. There's a few rooms in the castle you can go into. The dining hall, the kitchen, the maids room, etc, etc. it's all pretty interesting. Once you leave the castle though, you can go behind them to see the poison garden, the caves, the creek, and a non-poisonous garden. I'm not sure about the poison garden though. There's a sign that says not to touch, smell, or eat anything in it, and I definitely saw and old lady bent over getting herself a good whiff. To my knowledge, there were no ambulances called there that day. If you're not quite as brave as that old lady, you can sit on a bench that's got some kind of "poisonous" vine growing in a canopy over it. I saw a couple taking a photo there. Kind of ironic how they were celebrating their love in a poisonous place. Way to kill your relationship, guys. 

If you're still not that brave, you can walk on a trail along the wall to the other gardens, or down to the creek. The trail along the creek is actually quite pleasant. I am in love with the sound of creeks though, so that's just me. I found a stump to sit on right over the creek and pulled off my shoes for a bit of relaxation, then headed for the cave ( after I put my shoes back on). The caves were a let down to say the least. I was expecting something big and filled with pots of gold and maybe a leprechaun or a cave troll. Nope, just a little cave inhabited by a spider. 

When you're finished with the castle, the lying stone, the not-so-poisonous garden, the creek, and the caves, go ahead and pull out your cash. The world's largest Irish gift shop shares a parking lot with the Blarney Castle. They have some pretty awesome t-shirts for normal people and alcoholics alike, souvenirs, and a bunch of cotton stuff all made in a warehouse there just up the street. The place is huge! Like, three or four stories kind of huge. If you're like me with only a backpack and you don't want to buy anything, there's a nice restaurant attached. I didn't eat there, but I was told it was pretty delicious. 

The Packout

I tried for a while (ok, five minutes tops) to find a comprehensive packing list for backpacking Europe AND camping while staying lightweight. My efforts were (unsurprisingly) met with disappointment. So I made one up myself. Considering I've never really backpacked, and I carried entirely too much shit when I did search and rescue, this might turn out to be a disaster. I'm not afraid to experiment. I'll let you know if on my way I figure out that I should have left half that crap at home, or really shouldn't have left some things. So here's what I've got..

Honestly, probably too much crap. I'm too inept and lazy to put little numbers on all the items to tell you what they are, but here's what you're looking at.
My backpack is a small, Gregory Cairn 48L backpack. I chose it because it fits my body type best and I would rather downsize to next to nothing rather than pack too much crap and be miserable carrying around 60lbs. It has top and side access, and plenty of pockets. It's also got a little rain cover to boot. I'm quite certain I'll be needing that.
I've got a pair of jeans, a pair of cargo pants, running shorts, and a pair of thin Patagonia cargo type shorts. I've also got 4 shirts, one of which is a Khul collard shirt that shouldn't really wrinkle or smell too bad, even if I do wear it for a few days straight.. (I will probably stink, but the shirt should be ok). And then there's undies and a bathing suit. All of that is in those blue, red, and green packing cubes you see. I'll be wearing at least one of those outfits at all time (I presume), so the cubes should be significantly smaller. At least when I'm wearing the pants.. I also have a light weight rain jacket for those shitty days when I get stuck out in the middle of a tempest, because if it's going to happen to anyone, it's gonna happen to me. I'm only taking one pair of tennis shoes that should be on my feet pretty much the whole time. They're Nike frees and I love them. I've been told to take hiking shoes instead or in addition, but in all honesty, I know me. I wouldn't wear them. I'm too damn stubborn for that. They dry pretty quickly and the tread is at least half way decent since they're new. Fingers crossed that I won't regret this decision.
I managed to fit my climbing shoes, harness, ATC, carabiner, leather glove, and whatever that long piece of multipurpose webbing is called into my bag as well. I plan on figuring out some way to hook up with some folks who are climbing and swing on their ropes with them. Honestly, if I don't get the chance to climb something, I'll be pissed. Those take up a lot of room and add a lot of weight. Obviously, this isn't a set of items most people would carry.
I've also got a sleeping bag liner from Sea to Summit. My mother wanted me to take a set of sheets for hostels. Let me tell you something. A set of sheets is huge, and I'm not one to put sheets on a bed to stay for one or two nights anyway. When I went to Marion Military Institute, I slept on top of my covers with a contraband blanket so I didn't have to make my bed every morning. I'll also note that every time the Col. inspected the female barracks, my room was always used as the standard. If you ain't cheatin, you ain't tryin! Anyway. I got the thermolite reactor extreme as a compromise. It's supposed to add up to 25C to a sleeping bag, so it should be plenty warm in a hostel, and it should also work pretty well for when I wind up camping. I've also got a small "tarp" I usually use when camp in my hammock to sleep under or on for when it rains.. because that will happen to me.
In my "camping" gear I've got 50' of paracord, a headlamp, batteries, some s-biners, a spork with weird little tools on it, water purifiers, and a little water bottle that rolls up when you're not using it so it takes up very little room. It's also got it's own little clasp for when you are using it so you can hang it on your pack. I've also got one of those flint/phosphorous blocks and some pansy little fire starter sticks. Why? Because I'm lazy and in addition to being tiny, they're virtually weightless. So why not? Since I'm carrying my backpack on instead of checking it, I'll have to buy both a pocket knife/multitool and a lighter once I get there.
In a little dry bag, I have all my electronic cords and converters as well as some benadryl, ibuprofen, and Tylenol. And headphones for train/plane rides. There's also a small first aid kit that has gauze, antibiotic ointment, vet wrap, and super glue and yes, I have a tourniquet. I can make one with a stick and a bit of cloth, but again, I'm lazy. In fact, I'll probably prove to be too lazy to even use it on myself if I need it. Fingers crossed that I don't need any of it.
I have a Sea to Summit antimicrobial dry lite microtowel. I got the XL so I can use it as a bath towel and run from a shower to a room without showing off my assets. I doubt I'll wind up in that position, but oh well.
The Gregory Cairn 48 has a sleeve for a camelbak bladder, so I took mine out of the camelbak I usually use to go mountain biking and stuffed it in there.
The toiletry bag seems a little obvious if you ask me. I've got another Sea to Summit microlite antimicrobial towel in there to use as a washcloth. I got the XS and cut it in half. I got it instead of a regular washcloth because it will dry much faster and I don't have to worry about it souring in my bag and making everything stink. Let's be honest, I'll probably smell bad enough as it is. If you don't know what else belongs in a toiletry bag, you probably shouldn't be backpacking without adult supervision. Let your "parents" pack for you and make sure it's one of those backpacks with a leash on it. 
The last item you might be able to pick out is a runner's pouch. It's kinda like a fanny pack, only tiny and it fits under your shirt so you might not get made fun of as much. I've been told countless times about people getting pick pocketed in Europe, and I'm sure I'll want to keep my passport with me most of the time, so that's what that is for. I'll have my passport and some backup cash in there. There's also a "secret" compartment in the side of my backpack that would be secret if the manufacturer didn't advertise it amongst it's assets (thanks, Gregory!) where I'll probably keep my passport card (virtually useless in anywhere but Canada, Mexico, and the islands, but if you lose your real passport, you can at least show that to your embassy to get a replacement quicker) and some extra cash. 
In addition to all this crap, I have a little messenger bag (or a satchel if you're Indiana Jones or Alan from The Hangover) that I'll use when I've got my backpack stowed in a locker somewhere and just want to run around town. It zips AND clasps, so the chances of it getting pick pocketed are slim. It's big enough to hold my iPad mini, a little journal notebook I've got, some pens, and a charger. I'm also taking a Jockery backup battery with me in it too. To say that I'm addicted to my technology would be the understatement of the year. I like to use it to talk to a select few people and ignore the rest. It also provides an annoyingly finite number of hours of music, movies, and other entertainment. This jockery I got is supposed to charge an iPad or iPhone ten times before it runs out. That should do me. I'll go ahead and point out for anyone that doesn't already know, international plans are EXPENSIVE. I won't be getting one. I'm putting my phone on a reduced rate service plan so it's only $10/month. I'll be switching out my sim card with one that I buy over there with some calling, texting, and data capabilities, but for the most part I'm just going to be relying on wifi. Which means that when I bike across Portugal I may have to actually find a paper map..
I had initially intended to keep my backpack under 22 pounds because that's the cutoff for RyanAir's carry on weight. I don't know how much I'll be trying to use them, but if I decide to, I don't want to be stuck on the ground because my backpack was too heavy. All of this wound up weighing in at 21.2 pounds. Can anyone here say "success?!" But also, the Cairn 48 is slightly bigger in dimensions than they allow.. Hopefully if I try to fly with them, they aren't being sticklers about that, or they have room in the hull. I may wind up ditching an item or twelve before I leave. I may also add one or two. Probably not. We're gonna see how this all plays out. I'll let you know as I go along!

Homesick

So, I've been back home from Leo and I's road trip a couple of weeks now. Once I got back I had some sort of upper respiratory infection for about a week. Physically, I am better; mentally, I am as homesick as they come. The problem is, I am home. With the exception of a couple of short stints in Alabama and Pittsburgh, I've lived here my entire life. I shouldn't feel homesick here (I could do with moving back to Pittsburgh, but Hellabama... No.). I'm not homesick for any place I am familiar with, I am homesick for the places I've never been. I'm homesick to see Igazu Falls on the border of Brazil and Argentina, for the Petra in Jordan, Plitvice Lakes in Croatia, the fjords of Norway, Angel Falls in Venezuela, the Matterhorn in Switzerland, Ha Long Bay in Vietnam, and the Great Wall of China. I am homesick for the world. I live in it, and yet I haven't seen it.


So I'm going to.


A while back I had planned to take a couple of months leave of absence from work to go backpack through Europe. That plan fell through when my leave wasn't approved, and I resigned to take a week long road trip in the US. The road trip only exacerbated the issue. I've never wanted to come home from vacation and return to work, but this time was different. Not only did I not want to come home and go to work, I didn't want to come home period. I didn't want to drive my own car, use my own shower, or sleep in my own bed. These are all things I always look forward to when coming home. Especially sleeping in my own bed. I am in love with my bed, we have a special bond. If I'm gone and someone else sleeps in it, I get jealous. It's bad. But this time all the usual comforts of home tasted like dirt. Since coming home, it's just felt like I've had the worst case of cotton mouth in the history of man. So I did the only logical thing I could do. I put in my notice at work and booked a one-way flight to Spain. I leave in six weeks.


While this sounds like a spur of the moment type of decision, it's actually been brewing for a long time. And by a long time, I mean that pretty much for as long as I can remember it's been my dream to just quit life and disappear to travel the world. Ideally, I would leave without telling anyone, and just share my stories upon my return. Seeing as how my family and a few friends would probably be worried about me, I decided to share my plan with them. I've been obsessed with this idea to the point that I literally carried my passport and $2,000 in my school bag throughout most of my college career. Nothing made me want to run away more than college did. Especially after I returned from Pittsburgh. The night that I watched The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, I told my best friend Juli that I was about to turn it on. She must have set an alarm for the length of the movie, because as soon as it was over, she called me. I was on my laptop, credit card in hand, looking for the cheapest international flight I could find. She knows me too well. It took her a little while, but she finally convinced me that it would be foolish for me to quit college in my last semester, and that it was about to be cold in Europe anyway (but it would have been warm in the Southern Hemisphere!!!). So I finished school. Probably a smart move.. Thanks for that, Juli.


But now here I am, a college graduate who has yet to move out of her parents house. I've become increasingly annoyed with my job. I love what I do, but it was only ever meant to be a stepping stone, and I've been firmly standing on it with both feet. That hasn't been sitting well with me. My options were to look for a real job and start my career, or follow what I've always wanted to do and travel the world. So, I bought a backpack and a couple other essentials. I've sold all of my big ticket items except for my bed (I just can't let it go!) and my car. I sent the final payment for my car and the title should be here next week. Once I get it, I'm going to sell my car as well. Then it'll be off to Europe!


***** Update *****
The Havok Journal was kind enough to feature this blog post on their website this past Tuesday. They are part of an up and coming company called Blackside Concepts that is dedicated to veterans issues, and they have some incredible and eclectic reading material on their site. They have started a "Travel Tuesday" portion to the Havok that will feature Leo's trip through South America. Check them out!

Pulling On Rocks

Once again yesterday, Leo and I woke up in the van to a rather nice Arizona sunrise. Our initial plan for the day had been to go to Havasu Falls and swim, no matter the temperature of the water. But after hiking Brighg Angel the day before, I was quite frankly over hiking and there was no way I was hiking 8 miles in to swim for an hour and hike 8 miles back. It just wasn't happening. Since the Bright Angel had been my idea, it was Leo's turn to pick an activity. It took all of two seconds for him to decide that we should go rock climbing and even less time for me to jump on board. He navigated rockclimbing.com (I think?) for a bit trying to find a place near our route to climb, and we backtracked a little ways to find it. By "find it" I mean that we drove around for a couple of hours trying to follow shitty directions which didn't take you anywhere near where we should have been, and the GPS coordinates given for the climb were literally in the middle of fucking nowhere. Once we finally decided we had found the right place we parked (whether or not our parking spot choice was legal is questionable at best) and set out on a hike. A burrow nearly attacked us, but we like to live dangerously. The hike that we took wound up 1) Being on a game trail rather than the actual hiking trail 2) Not taking us anywhere near where the routes were set. We did find some cool caves though. In a last ditch effort to find the fabled prebolted sport route the website spoke of, we made our way back towards the van, bush-whacking it along the cliff face. About half way back we heard voices, and Lo and behold we found climbers on the sport route we had been looking for. They were super chill and immediately invited us to climb with them, to which we obviously obliged. There was a 5.7, a 5.8, and a 5.10 all right in the same spot. Leo hadn't climbed outdoors in a good 5 years and I've only ever even climbed outdoors once back in high school. To be honest, I don't even remember if I made it up the wall I had tried back then, so these climbs were perfect. Once Timmy (one of the climbers we met) set up the top rope on the 5.7 and 5.8 (they could both be done from the same top rope position), Frank (another of the climbers) ascended, then Leo. Oz was the next one up, and it was his first time pulling rocks and swinging on ropes. Despite the fact that he was baked and a little tipsy, he was literally shaking with fear when he was getting tied up. You could tell he wasn't really hearing much of the instructions Timmy was giving him, but he got on the rock anyway. Honestly, I don't know if he would have gotten on it if he had been sober. It took him a while to get up, and he almost gave up, but Timmy and Frank had convinced him that he literally couldn't come down until he reached the top because the equipment just wouldn't work like that. He got to the top and they made him kiss the caribeaner before he could sit back and begin his descent. He was shaking worse than someone in the final stages of Parkinson's. It was fucking hilarious. When he finally made it down, I honestly though he was going to vomit all over the place. Instead, he just kissed the ground repeatedly while we all laughed. He was a good sport about it all though. Next was my turn. While I haven't been on belay in I don't even know how long, I do have a knack for climbing things, and any time I go hiking I climb basically anything and everything I can just for the hell of it. I made it up and back down the 5.7 pretty quickly. Leo then gave me a crash course on how to belay him which consisted of him telling me that my right hand was the break hand and he was tying me to a bolt in the ground so I didn't fly up the wall if he fell. Honestly, I probably wouldn't have trusted me to belay me, seeing as how I had next to no clue what was going on. Once Leo was on the wall, Timmy came over and gave me a little more detailed job description of a belayer. Which is probably a good thing cause I won't say that I was getting it right. At all. I got my ascent on the 5.8 while Timmy and Frank played on the 5.10. Leo took a day and a half to go up the 5.10, but that was fine because it was just at sunset and some of the pictures I got of him kicked a whole lot of ass. 

After we finished climbing and packed up all the gear, we followed our new friends down the actual trail to the van and then to a local brewery in Kingman called Black Bridge Brewery. I'm not a fan of any type of beer, but they had a raspberry wheat beer that I could drink all day every day. That shit was on point. Also, there's a couple different restaurants that deliver to the bar and the bartenders will call in your order for you. We choked down on some of the most kick ass pizza I've had in a while, then made our way across the street to a wine bar. I'm not sure what else they have there, but the moscato was quite delectable. Eventually, they turned out the lights and we had to say goodbye to our new friends. All in all, it was a pretty kick ass day, and I'm definitely going to have to get into climbing now. Leo suggested that I take my harness, shoes, ATC, and figure 8 to Europe with me and meet up with climbers on my trip around the world. A suggestion I fully intend on fulfilling. 

Canyons...

Yesterday, Leo and I woke up to this view just outside of Page, AZ.  Pretty fucking awesome for camping off a random side road. While Leo made breakfast, I entertained my inner child and climbed on some nearby rock formations. Afterwards, we headed for the Lower Antelope Canyon, which one of Leo's friends had suggested. We weren't disappointed. I won't fill up the blog with a ton of unnecessary pictures. If you google antelope canyon you'll get enough pictures to almost make you sick of the place. None of them do it justice though. Go. You have to go with a tour guide, but it's less than $30/person. Our tour guide was super cool too. He knew plenty about the canyon and enough about photography show Leo how to get some really cool pictures utilizing all the neat features on his fancy camera.

Right after our tour we made a B line for the Grand Canyon. We started to use old hwy 89, but it was closed due to a big landslide a couple years ago, and because I'm a horrible navigator, I didn't realize that there's an alternate hwy 89 that would have been super short for us to detour to. Instead we went back up into Utah. But hey, along the way we found a nice boulder to climb around on. So that's a plus. On the flip side, Leo is currently driving to I don't even know where, using his GPS as his only navigation. 

We finally made it to the Grand Canyon national park last night and got a room so we could clean up. Camping is awesome, but I fucking love showers. Hot showers. Long, hot showers. Our plan this morning was to step onto Bright Angel Trail by 8, but sleeping in was just too tempting. We made it to the trail and caught a glimpse of this sign. 

Immediately after seeing it, we both said something along the lines of, "Fuck that sign! We got this shit!" We made it to the Colorado river by 1140 (we started at 0850), and took a 30 minute break to have lunch and chill out. Btw, the water in the Colorado River is fucking cold. We started our trek back up the mountain and made it to the Indian Garden (3 miles from the river) in just over an hour. We picked up the pace a little after that and made the next three miles right at an hour. As we got higher up the light was better for pictures (the shade on the way down in the early morning wasn't the least bit conducive to our efforts at photography) so we slowed down and took in some kick ass views.  The closer we got to the top the colder it got. Apparently, in the 75th Ranger regiment they have a saying that says, "travel light, freeze at night" so Leo basically only carried a light jacket, water, and sandwiches. Well let me tell you something, I'm a fucking civilian and I hate being cold more than terrorism. I wore a Patagonia base layer, a t-shirt, a Nike pullover, and a hoodie. On my torso. I shed all but the t-shirt by the time we got to the bottom, but I put my Nike pullover back on on the way up. And my gloves. I would have donned my beanie and hoodie as well, but my fingers quit working and I couldn't open my bag, and Leo had already gotten out my gloves for me. I suffered through the rest of the way to the top. And there was snow. Fucking snow.  I hate snow. If I'm not snowboarding in it, I don't want anything to do with it. But shortly thereafter, we made it back to the top, coming in at just under seven hours. Of course, this was necessary.  We were both soaked with sweat. Freezing sweat. It's been almost 3 hours since we finished and my fair weather ass is just now beginning to warm up. Ridiculous. I'm really not sure where we're going tomorrow, but I'm sure it'll be a kick ass time! I'll let you know how this mystery venture goes when I get the chance. Until then..

New Year, New Nothing.

I hate New Years. That's a lie. I hate New Years resolutions. Anyone who waits until they have to buy a new calendar to set a goal for themselves is not only lazy, but not going to achieve jack shit. Goals are meant to be set, pursued, and achieved on a continuing basis; not professed right after a new years kiss, pursued for a month, then forgotten, only to have the same process with the same goal repeated 365 days later.
I do, however, find New Years to be a good time of reflection. The holidays are finally over, some people are about to return to the black hole of intelligence that is commonly referred to as school or college (NOT THIS GIRL, MOTHER FUCKERS!!!), and most of us are planning to attend some type of party. Or working. I'd just like to give a quick shout out to all the emergency services personnel and military members working on New Years. It is the most dangerous day of the year for the boys in blue, and I'm beyond ecstatic that this year it falls on my regularly scheduled weekend and I won't be at work. Anyway. Back to reflection. After the last two months of suffering through an overdose of family time and wading through finals I utilized some of this free time which I have yet to grow accustomed to think about the things I learned in 2014. Here's the list I came up with:

1) College is a lie.
2) Enjoy being single. Few men are worth a power-walk.
3) Free time. It's a rare commodity. Use it. Love it.
4) Some things are better with a buzz.
5) Regular adventures are important to your overall happiness.
6) Having a purpose is equally important.

#1 - A lot of the world probably disagrees with me on this one (except for graduating high-schoolers arguing with their parents, using Bill Gates as their examples as why they don't need to receive any form of higher education), but I don't really give a shit. College has its merits, particularly for those who wouldn't figure out how to grow up and move out otherwise, but a degree is not what's going to get you a big bank roll. Everyone and their dog has a degree these days, and a lot of them are unemployed or not working in their field of study. Professionalism and valuable, relative experience can start to get you a job, but I've discovered that a lot of what it comes down to is not even who you know, but rather, who knows you. I've met the CEO of Tyson a handful of times, but I can't say that I really know him very well. In fact, I can't even remember his first name right now. But his family and mine have been friends for years. His kids are the same age as some of my older siblings, my mom is friends with his wife, and he employs my sister. This caused him to hire me to house sit for them at one of their lake houses over Christmas a few years ago. On top of my regular pay, they gave me a hefty Christmas bonus, something I certainly didn't deserve since I'd only house sat for them twice that year, but he knew me. He knew I was trying to move, that I was going to have some extra expenses, and gave me an extra check. The point is, I don't know this man. This wealthy, generous, humble man whose name I can't even remember gave me a job opportunity and some much needed extra income because he knew my name and my reputation; not because I met him at a party once.


#2 - This is simply my personal experience with my ex. Honestly though, if you're the woman in the relationship and you call him "your drama mamma," that should be a sign to run, not walk, to the nearest exit. I relearned my lesson though, I guess. Being single is a ton of fun, and it can be lonely, but it's not as lonely has having a boyfriend who breaks every promise he makes. Don't waste your time. Instead, focus on just doing you. Have fun with your friends, go on adventures, learn a new skill, and just chill the fuck out. If somebody worth having comes along, then fine, but make sure he's worth having before you dive into that. But don't chase. Take Mat Best's wise T-shirt advice and just power-walk.. Preferably after one with a beard and tattoos. And if you don't get that reference, you need to get your life right and become an American. Here's how.

#3 - Oh my God, free time! For basically the last six years, I've been too busy with work and school to even have a glimpse at what the fabled "free time" was. Until this past summer. I was only working one full-time job, and I didn't have any summer classes. Honestly, I've never had so much fun in just a few months. I went on road trips, I had adventure Tuesdays, went kayaking, skydiving, running, mountain biking, hiking, boating, bowling, swimming, and whatever the fuck else I felt like doing. God it was glorious. Then school started back up. Now that I'm done with college forever, I don't know what to do with my free time. I know I want to chill out for a couple months before I dive into my career (whenever I figure out what the next step is going to be), but I'm having a hard time figuring out how to chill again. I'm a fair weather girl, and dead trees are just fucking ugly. So things like kayaking and hiking have lost their allure for the time being. I'll get it figured out though. I'm not so easily deterred.

#4 - Do I even need to explain this? I'm not saying you need to get hammered to have a good time, but a good buzz can exponentially increase the hilarity of a lot of situations. Also, if tequila even touches my tongue I can go from being the wort person to be around to the happiest mother fucker on planet earth.

#5 - Two words: Adventure Tuesdays (probably Saturdays for all you fuckers with an 8-5. Lucky bastards) I guess I discovered this over this last summer when I was finding out what free time was and how it's best utilized. I'd had no idea how miserable I was in school until summer was coming to an end and I crammed in a road trip to Houston/Galveston/San Antonio and a camping trip in one week. #4 also played a big role in that week, and by the end of it I had jumped off a cliff, gotten a sunburn that would make the devil himself jealous, taught myself to surf, vomited uncontrollably in the woods, and I suspect I was nearly eaten by a mountain lion. I regret nothing.

#6 - As alluring as it sounds to just have life be one big party and adventure all the time, you need a purpose. Or at least I do. I guess I've always known that I needed a purpose, and I've desperately searched for one that fits me, one that I can enjoy and make a career out of, but it never hit as hard as it did these last couple of weeks since graduating. Nothing hits you in the face like someone saying, "Oh, you graduated college, where are you working now?" I know I'm very fortunate to have a good paying, full-time job and no college loans to be paying off, but there's nothing I hate more than answering that question right now because the answer is "the same fucking thing I've been doing for the last three years." I love my job, really I do, but it's nothing I want to make a career out of. It was purely meant to get me through college and no further. I'm the kind of person that's always had the next ten steps figured out. Honestly, for a while I did have the next several steps figured out, but not anymore. Life is funny like that. I heard somewhere that life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans, and that's definitely what's happened. The simple fact that I haven't gotten it figured out yet is driving my type A personality up a wall. I do have an alter ego though, my type B side. My type B side is just enjoying the free time.

While I find reflection to be one of the more valuable things about new years, and I hate the "new year, new me" bullshit everyone tries to sell on their facebook posts, I maintain that reflection can go both ways. Resolutions are a good idea, people just don't know how to execute them. Resolutions aren't meant to come around every 365 days, they're meant to come around whenever you discover the need for improvement or change. If it's November, or June or February and you decide shit needs to happen, make that shit happen. Fuck resolutions day. I will, however, concede to the fact that in order to propel yourself forward in life, it's important to set goals for yourself (constantly, not yearly) and while the new year is a convenient time to do that, it shouldn't be the only time you do it.

No attempt at philosophy would be complete without some hippocracy, so here's my goals for 2015.
1) Fist fight a shark.
2) Eat something spicy without crying.
3) Get fired from a trebuchet.
4) Hail a cab (preferably in a foreign country where you're scared for your life as you weave in and out of traffic at neck-breaking speeds).
5) Execute Ayman Al Zawahiri - MERICA.

Set a goal. Work towards it. Achieve it. Learn from it. Up the ante and repeat.