Fast and Light: Is Fast 'Lite' on experience?

What drives the mountaineer?  What does a climber seek at the top of a mountain?  What does she find?  And what brings her back, time and time again, to the exposed pinnacle of rock, which for only a geological second happens to be a high point in our world?

It's a fascinating thought, and one which has puzzled climbers and spectators (such as they are in the sport) for generations.

It was a subcategory of this climber's reflection which occupied my mind while soloing the East Ridge of Mount Russell, one of California's several 14ers at 14,094ft.

***

I awoke wide-eyed at 6am (unusual for a non-morning person such as myself), rolled out of bed, made a pot of tea, started my truck, and was off.  I had woken up several times during the night, my mind occupied with whether I should get an extra 15 minutes of sleep or get up and cook myself the hearty breakfast I would need.  As I lay down the night before, I had settled on sleeping more and picking up a Sausage McMuffin and an orange juice from McDonald's on my way through Bishop.  Several hours later I woke up with disapproving thoughts, and decided I would make my own healthy, humane, and environmentally friendly hearty breakfast.  Two hours later I wake again briefly and decide I can accept my twice-a-year McDonald's breakfast, and really they're not so bad after all.  I mean, how can it be so bad if it tastes so good?  At 6am I am up again and finally decide I'm not going to think about it any more, and really the excess calories from who-knows-what-they-put-in-it will probably fuel me a little more than my own cleaner version of the same thing.

In these thoughts, I think I have discovered a new form of climber's inner-turmoil: the modern progressive climber's ethical inner debate.

Fortunately, I made it out of the house by 6:30am, despite my inner dialogue and silly deliberating.

In Bishop, filling up my gas tank and my belly, and on the road again by 7:15am.  How American.  But fast food sure is handy sometimes.  And those Sausage McMuffins really are tasty.  But what would Norman Clyde think? 

Norman Clyde did the first ascent of Mt. Russell via the East Ridge (my chosen objective) in June of 1926.  Pre-GPS, pre-sticky rubber approach shoes, pre-McDonald's, pre-backcountry permits... free, in every sense of the word.  And he was a man known for carrying his cast-iron skillet strapped to the outside of his pack on overnight trips into the backcountry.  Maybe I'll leave the bit about McDonald's out if I meet him in the afterlife.

***

I arrive at the visitor's center just after 8am to pick up my permit.  Fortunately it is late in the season, so I knew I would have no trouble getting a permit on a walk-in basis.  However, I am forced to start about 2 hours later than I would have liked to start, because I didn't make it home the day before in time to call in a reservation (though I didn't really want to pay a reservation fee anyway, which I'm pretty sure they require for any advance reservations).  By my rough calculations and from time plans offered in the oft-revered SuperTopo High Sierra guidebook, I was estimating the whole day would take 11 hours, at best.  About 6,000ft of elevation gain in 4 or so miles equates to about 5 hours of hiking time (calibrated for me).  The book estimates 3-6 hours on route, and the descent should take half of the total time to the top.  So... 5hrs hiking + 3hrs climbing =8hrs up, that means 4hrs down, and I like to run downhill, so let's say 8hrs up + 4hrs down - 1hr running = 11hrs. 

Oof.  It's going to be a long day.  Pack the headlamp.

***

Dave was with Craig, one of our most active clients, climbing Whitney and Russell on a 4 day trip, so I was hoping to catch up to them the day they were to be climbing the East Ridge.  I knew I was way behind, since they started at 7am from 11,300ft at Upper Boy Scout Lake, and I started after 9am at 8,400ft, so I motored.

Going fast and light, hiking by myself, I relished the time to be entirely with myself: my own thoughts, my own abilities, my own limits.  So much of my time in the mountains is spent with friends and clients that I rarely get any time alone in the mountains.  But when I do, it makes me think of all those who have been here before me.  Like Norman Clyde.  What was he thinking?  Why was he here?  Was it his zen to be in the mountains, or was it the feeling of accomplishment at the end of the day?  Why did he climb so often alone?

***

I managed to catch Dave and Craig at about 12:30pm, just as they finished descending the East Ridge.  I was hoping to watch some of Dave's guiding techniques on what is a physically easy route to climb, but very technically challenging to protect from a guiding standpoint.  I missed it -- they were already unroped.  Bummer.

We chatted a bit, and I told them I had set a 3:30pm turnaround time for my climb, such that I would make it back by dark.  They said they climbed the route in about an hour and a half.  Sweet.  SuperTopo appears to be way off the mark in their timeplan.

We decide to reconvene at the trailhead for burgers, and I set off up the route.  Within an hour I am on the summit, flipping through the summit register, and enjoying an amazing view of an unusually (for September) snowy Mt. Whitney.

 

In the register, I randomly flip to a page with two names that I recognize: Brian Martens and Andrew Dickie, two of my friends from Shasta Mountain Guides.  They had been out last summer and climbed Whitney's East Buttress and Russell's Fishhook Arete, with stopovers at my house on either end of their trip.  It's a small world atop these summits.

Then I flip to the end, and find Dave and Craig's entries.  Craig's is a normal celebratory entry, noting where he is from, some plugs to friends and family at home, and what route they came up.  Dave's simply reads: "I beat Lyra to the top."

But with him long gone, I get the last word: "Dave Miller cheated."

***

Under an hour and I am off the route and sprinting down the sandy slopes, letting my legs do the thinking.  Heart pounding, body straining, and I am grinning ear to ear.  This is the freedom I seek in the mountains.  I get to a steep drop-off; what had been a miserable climb due to the sandy substrate becomes a whoop-worthy rapid sand-surfing descent.

To cover so much terrain entirely of my own power is an exhilarating experience.  To go where so few people go, to see things so much bigger than myself -- it's a grounding experience, to say the least.

I catch Dave and Craig just before the trailhead.  We have arrived with time to spare (referring to the 8pm closing time at the grill).  Shoes off, sweaters on, burgers ordered.  Now it's time to share stories of our adventures.  They had some grand climbs in the area over 4 days.  I had a thrilling 7 hour race through the mountains.

I often wonder how much we miss in modern climbing's obsession with speed-ascents, "fast and light."  Perhaps if I had more time off, I could take a leisurely time by myself in the mountains.  Have I been working too much this summer?  Am I trying to cram my own experiences into inadequate "me-time?"  Or do I discover something else in pushing to my athletic limits, stretching my mind and body as far as it can go?

My own experience by myself in the mountains is so different from my days climbing with my best friends, and different again from the days I spend guiding.  There is a social and anti-social element in there, and I enjoy them all for the different experiences they provide.

At times, I can find myself frustrated.  Frustrated to be limited by myself, pushed too far by my partner, or challenged by a client who needs an unanticipated amount of emotional or physical support.

And then, when I take a step back, relax in the moment, wherever it is I find myself, I realize how present I am.  I realize how raw the experience is.  In such a complicated world, my life is reduced to the most basic and fundamental of concerns: how am I right now?

And it is in this moment that I realize how grateful I am to find my own limits, to push through my own mental and physical barriers, and to have the tool set to give someone the same experience.

***

My time in the mountains gives me the reality check I need in a complex world.  With more and more people expanding the world of climbing, introducing new styles and focuses, it is easy to judge, categorize, and shun certain branches of climbing we don't understand.  And of course, some ethical debate is healthy.  But at the very core of it, we are all out there to learn something about ourselves, and this is what is important.

Comments

[Erin]

Yay a new post!

I struggle a lot with the fast / light vs. enjoying the mountains at a slower pace. I feel a little lazy when I opt for longer camping and splitting up the mileage, but love getting to slow my life's pace down. I long to go faster then feel guilty for being rushed in such a beautiful place :P I guess I need to just switch it up...

I always feel just a little wimpy with my awesome shoes, ultralight pack and non cast iron cookware... Those original mountain men were tough! (I think I'll stick with my awesome gear)

[Lyra]

It really is such an on-going debate. Not sure there is a right answer. I sure enjoy my time in the mountains when I take less -- both for the simplicity and for the light weight factor!

But a good meal cooked in cast iron over a wood fire... mmmmmm.