Left, Right in the Road

It was tourist season in Jackson—an easy excuse for poor driving, over-consumption of sweets, and regrettable decisions on wildlife art. I drove through town thankful I was leaving the mayhem while people honked up and down the street. The van was loud, but it was a van, and it was having issues, and so I didn’t question the road noise until I took a sharp right turn and felt air woosh across my neck. The view in the rearview mirror looked suspicious. I pulled over. The back door—a 8X6 foot panel, in this case-- had swung wide open, with all of my disorganized trappings of life perched in the exposed shelf. Based on quick math, and my recall of the last time I had opened the back, it had been splayed wide for five miles, at an average of 35 MPH....

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Vertical Homesteading

Home In Namibia, Photo by Peter Doucette

--In collaboration with Petzl, check out the good things, and the good people who make that company one of the best--

Quick test: What’s the first word that comes to mind when I say the following four places: New Hampshire, Namibia. Spain. Wyoming.

Did anyone else answer home? I’ve been in Wyoming for five weeks now, before that it was Europe for three, Namibia for five, and New Hampshire for 3.5 months before that. I pay a mortgage in Colorado, but I’m homesteading everywhere else.

Visitation implies a temporary sampling of an area. Homesteading implies making an effort at living in an area. I think I’m doing the latter—through climbing.

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Beyond the Next

Getting closer to where I'm goingI’m at my second tire shop in a week, 408 miles apart. This time, I’m in Bozeman; last time, I was in Salt Lake. But it all started in Provo. 63 mph in the left lane, construction cones ahead, and something sharp enough underneath to land me stopped, rimless, on the shoulder.

Five minutes into changing my tire a man pulled over to help me. As we jacked the van up for the second time, only to have it rock and fall forward a second time when a semi passed, he offered his hand.

“I’m John,” he said, “if we die today, it was nice to meet you.”

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Snowmobile Drag Race Cancelled

When I was a kid, skiing was more important than anything in the world. I’d wake up and suit up in hand-me-down red racking pants from my cousin Mark and a pink puffy jacket from last year's sale rack and hit the slopes. I was a terror and learned early that you could win every impromptu race if you were just brave enough not to turn.

In the past few years I’ve kept my skis in storage as I attend to other sports and obsessions, but this year the illogic of my lack of skiing is making me reconsider my decision. I’m in Jackson Hole, WY right now where there is 18” of fresh and more on the way. Two days ago I was in Steamboat with the same. North Conway, NH, Durango, CO, Ouray. The biggest snow years, everywhere.

And me with no skis.

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