Greetings from Another Gorgeous Day,
I continue to be amazed at how weeks seem to be flying by at light speed. I had a good week of training with my adjusted program. I enjoyed having 15 different varieties of push-ups on the menu and how each one worked my body in different ways. Pack weights went up again for both indoor and outdoor training. I trained with Phil for the first time since I returned from Kili and loved how he challenges me to push harder.
We were outside for the first time doing a combination drill that included agility footwork, throwing medicine balls, and kicking soccer balls. I was having a bit of a tough time with some wheezing so I’ll pay a visit to my doc this week to seek her advice on that-it may have been that the pollen count was high in the field or maybe third week fatigue or maybe I didn’t warm-up enough.
I’m nearing the end of my hypoxia protocol which is a first-I was able to start the program enough weeks out that I’ll get through the whole ten weeks. I’m working my steady state session at 10% oxygen now, the equivalent of 6000 metres of altitude. I hope to get down to 9% before I go but as usual, I’ve started to have some mask phobia and it becomes a mental workout just to use the equipment. I’ve been using mountaineering DVD’s to help push through that barrier-having the computer to pay attention to distracts from the sensation of wanting to rip the mask off. From past experience, I know this comes up for me after about 9 weeks of training and if I can stay with it, it passes.
I leave in five weeks from tomorrow and I’m split in thinking that there’s lots of time and departure will be here before I know it. I’m tempted to start laying out gear and making piles and lists. My excitement for the climb is growing but at the same time, feelings of doubt sometimes crawl into the weft of my thoughts. I notice them and try to set them aside. I know I’ll be missing the WOKies big time as I head off on this adventure needing to create the team and community on arrival. I knew the WOKies had spoiled me and I look forward to future adventures with them (and others).
I met with Paula Tessier again this week to put our heads together about the fundraising aspect of the climb. After some yummy dessert, we came up with something that I will be really fun (and terrifying). I’m going to let you know earlier than the public announcement so you can start combing your closets and tickle trunks!
I hate pink. I really do. It’s never been a colour that has appealed to me. I don’t own one thing that is pink. Pink is a colour that sends shivers down my spine and the thought of dressing in pink is almost enough to send me screaming from the room.
So, when thinking about what I might do to entice people to donate to my Pumori: Climb for Awareness, in support of the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation-Atlantic Region, the colour pink naturally came to mind. Pink symbolizes the fight against breast cancer and thus leads me to a very large challenge. For the week of September 15-19, I will subject myself to “Pink Outside the Box.”
For these five long days, I will dress in any pink items that supporters who donate $20 provide. For each donation of $20, I will don one item. A pink dress. $20. A string of pink pearls. $20. Pink shoes. $20. Pink boa $20. Pink hockey jersey. $20. Pink training tights. $20. Pink ribbons $20.
My chest tightens as I consider the possibilities of training, teaching, and going about my week dressed in donated pink items. However, if total donations to the climb reach the $3581 (halfway to the goal) during that week, my “Pinking Outside the Box” will not stop at clothing. If this level of donations is reached, I will dye my hair pink! One hundred percent of the money raised through “Pink Outside the Box” and Pumori: Climb for Awareness climb go directly to the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation-Atlantic Region (i.e. none of it will go towards the costs of the climb).
I’ll keep you posted on the logistics of getting items to me. I plan to post daily pictures of each’s day’s pink outfit to my website and am hoping to generate some media interest in both Pink Outside the Box and the climb.
I’m off to train…have a good week. Thanks for your support.
TA
PS. To donate online, click here. For a downloadable form to fax or mail, click here.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Sunday, August 17, 2008
The Big O Mountain
Happy Summer Olympics to All,
I haven’t had a chance to watch much of the Olympics as I don’t have a TV capable or receiving a signal but I’ve been following them some on the Internet. It is an intense time in world sport watching, to quote the tagline line of “Wide World of Sports” the sports show I was raised on, “The Thrill of Victory, The Agony of Defeat.” I remember being a young girl glued to the television on Saturday afternoon dreaming of being an athlete on the world’s stage. Through such shows, I came to understand how much athletes sacrifice when they train and compete at such levels.
When I first training for Denali, I remember equating that journey with the Olympics. I said, “This is my Olympics,” as I knew most likely I would never reach the games as an athlete. (I did learn to race a luge in advance of the Calgary games and have thought about trying to play for the German women’s hockey team.) Like Olympic athletes, many mountaineers train hard, make many sacrifices in their daily lives, and spend many a mountain of money in pursuit of elusive and uncertain goals. Standing atop any mountain requires that training, weather, snow conditions, health, intense effort, and some luck all come together in the right moment. I think the same can be said of a trip to the podium in Beijing. Though the Games bring questions of politics, human rights, and cheating to the fore, they also remind me of the indomitable human spirit and the power of striving for dreams.
I had a great week in training. I went into the week tired from a weekend of hockey camp but pushed through that fatigue to get in three strength/power sessions, a few step classes, more hypoxia training and two fabulous training hikes. I’ve moved my pack weight up to 45 pounds for both indoor and outdoor training. My legs are doing fine with it and my lungs are working hard to catch up to the new demands. I’ve wrapped up my training with the six-week program of onehundredpushups.com. I moved myself from 60 to 200 pushups and have appreciated the increased upper body strength. I will now move back down to 100 and incorporate a whole variety of pushup techniques (diamond, vertical, on the medicine ball, off a therapy ball, etc). I have about four more weeks of intense training before beginning to taper for the mountain. Kilimanjaro taught me the value of going to the mountain rested and relaxed so I’m committed to putting that lesson into place.
There are other clues that the climb is getting closer. I placed a big order with Mountain Equipment Co-op for the gear I need for Pumori. I’ll have a new base camp tent to call home. A brighter headlamp to replace the one that was stolen and some new climbing slings also made the shopping list. I will begin soon to select out the gear that makes the cut and gets to go on the climb. I often use my living room as a staging centre for expedition preparations. The couch is a great organizer for clothes and the mantle for small supplies. Just like Santa Claus’ list, mine will be checked at least twice if not three times.
Thanks to all who made contributions to the climb this week. I’m meeting with Paula tomorrow to get the first update on how the fundraising is going. The downloadable form should be on my website this week and there is also now a “Donate Now” button on the sidebar that takes you directly to the donation page. The money goes directly to the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation, none of it goes towards climb expenses. Please pass on word of the climb to anyone who you think might be interested. Click here to donate to the climb.
About a month ago, I was asked by a national speaking bureau for some video of one of my presentations. I hadn’t had any time to even think about producing such materials but I happened to have had a presentation that night. I packed my video camera to take with and hoped I could find someone to run it. Unfortunately, the thing was out of battery power and my digital voice recorder was in the same state. I had to tell the Lavin folks that I couldn’t produce and they said they had to move forward on their timeline and couldn’t wait. After I handed in my grades for the semester, I set to work to edit a few pieces so I wouldn’t miss another invitation like that one. Some of these speaking vignettes are now up on my website, my Facebook Pumori group, and YouTube if you’d like to see me in action (and see my summer shearing).
Thanks for all of your encouraging words. They move me to train harder and I appreciate having your support. Have a good week.
TA
I haven’t had a chance to watch much of the Olympics as I don’t have a TV capable or receiving a signal but I’ve been following them some on the Internet. It is an intense time in world sport watching, to quote the tagline line of “Wide World of Sports” the sports show I was raised on, “The Thrill of Victory, The Agony of Defeat.” I remember being a young girl glued to the television on Saturday afternoon dreaming of being an athlete on the world’s stage. Through such shows, I came to understand how much athletes sacrifice when they train and compete at such levels.
When I first training for Denali, I remember equating that journey with the Olympics. I said, “This is my Olympics,” as I knew most likely I would never reach the games as an athlete. (I did learn to race a luge in advance of the Calgary games and have thought about trying to play for the German women’s hockey team.) Like Olympic athletes, many mountaineers train hard, make many sacrifices in their daily lives, and spend many a mountain of money in pursuit of elusive and uncertain goals. Standing atop any mountain requires that training, weather, snow conditions, health, intense effort, and some luck all come together in the right moment. I think the same can be said of a trip to the podium in Beijing. Though the Games bring questions of politics, human rights, and cheating to the fore, they also remind me of the indomitable human spirit and the power of striving for dreams.
I had a great week in training. I went into the week tired from a weekend of hockey camp but pushed through that fatigue to get in three strength/power sessions, a few step classes, more hypoxia training and two fabulous training hikes. I’ve moved my pack weight up to 45 pounds for both indoor and outdoor training. My legs are doing fine with it and my lungs are working hard to catch up to the new demands. I’ve wrapped up my training with the six-week program of onehundredpushups.com. I moved myself from 60 to 200 pushups and have appreciated the increased upper body strength. I will now move back down to 100 and incorporate a whole variety of pushup techniques (diamond, vertical, on the medicine ball, off a therapy ball, etc). I have about four more weeks of intense training before beginning to taper for the mountain. Kilimanjaro taught me the value of going to the mountain rested and relaxed so I’m committed to putting that lesson into place.
There are other clues that the climb is getting closer. I placed a big order with Mountain Equipment Co-op for the gear I need for Pumori. I’ll have a new base camp tent to call home. A brighter headlamp to replace the one that was stolen and some new climbing slings also made the shopping list. I will begin soon to select out the gear that makes the cut and gets to go on the climb. I often use my living room as a staging centre for expedition preparations. The couch is a great organizer for clothes and the mantle for small supplies. Just like Santa Claus’ list, mine will be checked at least twice if not three times.
Thanks to all who made contributions to the climb this week. I’m meeting with Paula tomorrow to get the first update on how the fundraising is going. The downloadable form should be on my website this week and there is also now a “Donate Now” button on the sidebar that takes you directly to the donation page. The money goes directly to the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation, none of it goes towards climb expenses. Please pass on word of the climb to anyone who you think might be interested. Click here to donate to the climb.
About a month ago, I was asked by a national speaking bureau for some video of one of my presentations. I hadn’t had any time to even think about producing such materials but I happened to have had a presentation that night. I packed my video camera to take with and hoped I could find someone to run it. Unfortunately, the thing was out of battery power and my digital voice recorder was in the same state. I had to tell the Lavin folks that I couldn’t produce and they said they had to move forward on their timeline and couldn’t wait. After I handed in my grades for the semester, I set to work to edit a few pieces so I wouldn’t miss another invitation like that one. Some of these speaking vignettes are now up on my website, my Facebook Pumori group, and YouTube if you’d like to see me in action (and see my summer shearing).
Thanks for all of your encouraging words. They move me to train harder and I appreciate having your support. Have a good week.
TA
Friday, August 8, 2008
Of Avalanches and Mammograms
Happy Regatta Day,
Another week has sped by leaving me one week closer to Pumori: Climb for Awareness. Time always seems to speed up when I’m training because so much has to fit into each day. I lost two training days to a tooth extraction; the first because they recommend no intense physical activity to prevent excessive blood loss and the second because I didn’t quite feel up to training the second day post tooth loss.
So yes, after a month of fighting the good fight with varieties of antibiotics, my endodontist and I agreed that it was time to say enough was enough. Just as a mountaineer needs to know when to turn her or his back on the summit, we had to make the decision to sacrifice the tooth for my overall health. We’re hoping with the tooth gone, the infection that has been simmering near my jawbone can finally be healed. Thanks to all who cheered me on and up over the course of the last month of intense dental challenges.
It was also time for my annual mammogram. Since my mom’s diagnosis, I have been on annual mammograms even though I haven’t reached the usual age for that frequency of screening. No one likes to go through this boob squishing procedure but I’d like to encourage everyone who is of screening age or circumstance to get screened. I had a wonderful technician whose daughter had heard me speak last summer so we had a grand chat about mountaineering during the whole thing. I exchanged moments of discomfort for months of comfort in knowing that I’ve done my yearly mammography duty.
I liken having a mammogram to digging an avalanche pit on a mountain. When we are forced to traverse mountain terrain having the slope and aspect to create avalanche danger, we must pay close attention to the risk factors.
We stop in a safe spot and dig a hole in the snow so we can examine the snow layers to judge how solid they are and how likely they are to slide. We perform various tests to see how the snow shears and what the snow crystals look like. Like a mammogram, it’s a drag to interrupt what we’re doing to dig the pit and face the risk squarely head on, but it gives us the information we need to continue. We may be able to remain on the same path, we may have to change routes, or we may have to retreat and come back some other day to climb.
To proceed in avalanche territory without the proper safety equipment, training, and testing, is foolhardy and will often end in tragedy. I think the same can be said about going through life without proper breast screening. Please walk through your fear and discomfort to get to know your breasts, to do monthly self-exams, and to get an annual mammogram if recommended by your doctor. Don’t let avalanches of doubt, fear, or shame get in your way. You can do it! For more information on breast cancer screening, here are two websites I found helpful:
Rethink Breast Cancer
Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation
I did another conference presentation this week to a group of agriculture educators from across Canada. I entitled my talk, “Growing Dreams,” and I enjoyed customizing my message to reflect the theme of their conference. I combed through my photographic images of Nepal and Tibet to find images of farming and animal husbandry.
When I biked the 1200 kilometres from Lkaha to Kathmandu during the fall of 2005, much of our route took us through harvest time on the Tibetan plateau. I shared the road with conveyances of all sorts including horse draw carts, frequently had to stop for cow and yak crossings, and at one point rode uphill for 38 kilometres before reaching the summit of Gyatso La Pass. It was on that trip, standing in Everest base camp on the Tibet side, that I wanted to climb Mount Everest. I wasn’t terrified about the climb at that point but rather, the fundraising. I had no idea how as a shy, phone-phobic, relatively private person, I was going to raise the $60,000 I needed to climb Mount Everest.
In the end, I raised half that amount using the only method I knew to use, grassroots fundraising. I sold toques and t-shirts, held speaking events, and reached out to kids. At some point, it got too hard to say to the children, “If the money comes, I’ll climb Everest” and made the decision that I would mortgage my house to make it happen. With that decision made, I could say to the kids, “When I climb Everest…” and that felt much better and worth the risk of taking on the big debt. With this week’s conference, I’ve now officially retired the expedition debt and can now think about beginning to raise funds for a second attempt.
Before turning my attention to that though, I am fully committed to my Pumori climb and the fundraising goal I’ve set for it. When I met Paula Tessier for coffee to discuss the possibility of fundraising for the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation, she pointed out my personal growth over the past three years.
“TA,” she said. “Do you realize that three years ago you were terrified of fundraising and now you are offering to fundraise for a cause without any personal benefit?”
I hadn’t really thought of it that way and thanked her for reflecting that growth back to me. Fundraising still scares me and I wish I felt more confident in doing it but as always, I just keep putting one foot in front of another and make the path by walking it. The downloadable form for donations should be on my website soon and the online link is now live. Thanks for your support on so many levels. I am so grateful to have you along on this and many other adventures.
Have a great week,
TA
Online donation to Pumori: Climb for Awareness can be made by clicking here.
Another week has sped by leaving me one week closer to Pumori: Climb for Awareness. Time always seems to speed up when I’m training because so much has to fit into each day. I lost two training days to a tooth extraction; the first because they recommend no intense physical activity to prevent excessive blood loss and the second because I didn’t quite feel up to training the second day post tooth loss.
So yes, after a month of fighting the good fight with varieties of antibiotics, my endodontist and I agreed that it was time to say enough was enough. Just as a mountaineer needs to know when to turn her or his back on the summit, we had to make the decision to sacrifice the tooth for my overall health. We’re hoping with the tooth gone, the infection that has been simmering near my jawbone can finally be healed. Thanks to all who cheered me on and up over the course of the last month of intense dental challenges.
It was also time for my annual mammogram. Since my mom’s diagnosis, I have been on annual mammograms even though I haven’t reached the usual age for that frequency of screening. No one likes to go through this boob squishing procedure but I’d like to encourage everyone who is of screening age or circumstance to get screened. I had a wonderful technician whose daughter had heard me speak last summer so we had a grand chat about mountaineering during the whole thing. I exchanged moments of discomfort for months of comfort in knowing that I’ve done my yearly mammography duty.
I liken having a mammogram to digging an avalanche pit on a mountain. When we are forced to traverse mountain terrain having the slope and aspect to create avalanche danger, we must pay close attention to the risk factors.
We stop in a safe spot and dig a hole in the snow so we can examine the snow layers to judge how solid they are and how likely they are to slide. We perform various tests to see how the snow shears and what the snow crystals look like. Like a mammogram, it’s a drag to interrupt what we’re doing to dig the pit and face the risk squarely head on, but it gives us the information we need to continue. We may be able to remain on the same path, we may have to change routes, or we may have to retreat and come back some other day to climb.To proceed in avalanche territory without the proper safety equipment, training, and testing, is foolhardy and will often end in tragedy. I think the same can be said about going through life without proper breast screening. Please walk through your fear and discomfort to get to know your breasts, to do monthly self-exams, and to get an annual mammogram if recommended by your doctor. Don’t let avalanches of doubt, fear, or shame get in your way. You can do it! For more information on breast cancer screening, here are two websites I found helpful:
Rethink Breast Cancer
Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation
I did another conference presentation this week to a group of agriculture educators from across Canada. I entitled my talk, “Growing Dreams,” and I enjoyed customizing my message to reflect the theme of their conference. I combed through my photographic images of Nepal and Tibet to find images of farming and animal husbandry.
When I biked the 1200 kilometres from Lkaha to Kathmandu during the fall of 2005, much of our route took us through harvest time on the Tibetan plateau. I shared the road with conveyances of all sorts including horse draw carts, frequently had to stop for cow and yak crossings, and at one point rode uphill for 38 kilometres before reaching the summit of Gyatso La Pass. It was on that trip, standing in Everest base camp on the Tibet side, that I wanted to climb Mount Everest. I wasn’t terrified about the climb at that point but rather, the fundraising. I had no idea how as a shy, phone-phobic, relatively private person, I was going to raise the $60,000 I needed to climb Mount Everest.
In the end, I raised half that amount using the only method I knew to use, grassroots fundraising. I sold toques and t-shirts, held speaking events, and reached out to kids. At some point, it got too hard to say to the children, “If the money comes, I’ll climb Everest” and made the decision that I would mortgage my house to make it happen. With that decision made, I could say to the kids, “When I climb Everest…” and that felt much better and worth the risk of taking on the big debt. With this week’s conference, I’ve now officially retired the expedition debt and can now think about beginning to raise funds for a second attempt.
Before turning my attention to that though, I am fully committed to my Pumori climb and the fundraising goal I’ve set for it. When I met Paula Tessier for coffee to discuss the possibility of fundraising for the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation, she pointed out my personal growth over the past three years.
“TA,” she said. “Do you realize that three years ago you were terrified of fundraising and now you are offering to fundraise for a cause without any personal benefit?”
I hadn’t really thought of it that way and thanked her for reflecting that growth back to me. Fundraising still scares me and I wish I felt more confident in doing it but as always, I just keep putting one foot in front of another and make the path by walking it. The downloadable form for donations should be on my website soon and the online link is now live. Thanks for your support on so many levels. I am so grateful to have you along on this and many other adventures.
Have a great week,
TA
Online donation to Pumori: Climb for Awareness can be made by clicking here.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Adventures Big and Small
August Greetings,
Just back in town after four wonderful days adventuring with my students on the Avalon Peninsula, a truly magical place. As I sorted through the pile of emails that came in while I was gone, I was excited to see one from Paula Tessier. Paula and I have played hockey together for years and she is the staff member for the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation-Atlantic Office in Newfoundland. She is my liaison with the organization and she wrote to say the on-line link for donations to the climb was ready.
Click here to donate to Pumori: Climb for Awareness online via a credit card.
For those who would prefer to use the mail, please visit my website for a downloadable form that you can fill out and mail in with your contribution. In either cases, your donation goes directly and entirely to the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation-Atlantic Office to fund their excellent work towards a future without breast cancer.
Thank you in advance for your support–it will fuel my training over the next two months and will help power me up the mountain. The past week was a rest week. I enjoyed having some extra time to catch my breath and be away from the structure of my training life. I head into the next four-week training cycle tomorrow and know I will be challenged both physically and mentally by its demands.
My week was filled with adventures big and small, some new, some familiar, some outdoors, some with friends. I found this two quotes which rung true for me this week.
One cannot discover new oceans unless one has the courage to lose sight of the shore.
–Andre Gide
A true friend freely, advises justly, assists readily, adventures boldly, takes all patiently, defends courageously, and continues a friend unchangeably.
–William Penn
As I share the outdoors with friends, students, and teammates, new connections are forged. These connections are tempered through hard work, magical moments, and time shared in communion with trees, clouds, oceans, peaks, and stars. My life has been blessed with so many friendships that were kindled around a campfire or sunset. I’ve enjoyed watching my students this summer experience the same blossoming of connection as they hiked, climbed, canoed, kayaked, and backpacked together. This was the crescendo week for the course where their skills and group dynamic were tested over and over again.
On Wednesday, we headed down to Burnt Cove to sea kayak and were greeted right off the beach by a pair of humpbacks. They are truly magnificent and they swam within 20 feet of us as we bobbed in the swell. I have two students from Germany and one from Ontario. I was thrilled for them to have a “close encounter” with our most famous summer visitors. We did lose sight of the shore a few times as we paddled around the islands off Burnt Cove. I had a most unique view on the day. A view spent looking backward through the day.
Through a bit of a miscommunication, there was one less boat cockpit than we needed. Jim tried to find another boat for borrow for the paddle but was unsuccessful. Not wanting anyone to have to spend time on the beach, we looked for other options. Jim has a large double in his fleet so we looked to the middle hatch. The two by two hatch proved too small for anyone but the most accomplished yogis (of which we had none in our group) so that option was ruled out. Both Jim and I spied the rear hatch at the same moment. Narrower but longer, I squeezed myself in and knew we had a workable (yet unusual situation).
As Jim shoved our “triple” off the beach and we wobbled insecurely in the mild waves, I knew I was in for quite the day. With no seat, I sat directly on the boat bottom and could feel every splash on the boat’s hull. I had a commanding view of the beach from where we had just departed but no ability to look forward towards where we were headed. A metaphor bubbled immediately into mind and I commented that I would be in a reflective state much of the day looking back.
I had no paddle, no ability to change the course of the boat, I was truly “along for the ride.” I surrendered to my fate and looked to enjoy my powerless position. I found it excellent for photography when we managed to pull up to the group. We frequently found ourselves behind as my poor paddling companions had to drag me everywhere they went. As we rounded one island heading for some caves, the sea became much more confused and the bile of fear rose in my belly. Again, there was nothing I could do but trust my paddlers and sit with the fear. As there was no place to run and no way to get out of the situation, I just had to stay with the feeling and work with my mind.
After much of the group had a touch of seasickness from the wonky seas, I realized I was the perfect person in the group to be sitting in the “trunk.” I almost never get motion sickness, I’ve had enough time in sea kayaks to be able to understand that it was unlikely we would actually flip over, and I could deal with the adventure of looking in a different direction than everyone else. I appreciated the opportunity to surrender and give over control and experience the adventure of sea kayaking in a unique way.
Thursday we headed out into the rain for a backpacking trip into Brock’s Head Pond. The trail was slick and each step was an adventure in itself trying to stay upright with heavy loads on our backs. As I often say, we all have our own Everests and they can be big or small. Carrying a loaded bag isn’t much of an adventure for me anymore but for these first timers, it was huge. The smiles on their faces when we arrived in camp bespoke the pride they felt in their accomplishment. I’m cognizant of celebrating those kinds of moments whenever they occur.
Friday, we embarked on the adventure of cinnamon roll baking. It’s one of the favourite things I teach since it opens new doors (and menus) for the outdoors and it’s so empowering for students to gain a strong skill set with the stoves. Since playing with flammable liquids is generally discouraged in life, students arrive with a healthy fear of the camp stoves. I see it as my job to instill confidence, knowledge, and skill in using these devices that can be quite dangerous (second only to driving in terms of likelihood on injury in the outdoors). Whenever I teach a baking class, I feel like I am an orchestra conductor trying to reign into thinly veiled chaos. Having each group moving through the process in their own time, venting stoves, and lighting twiggy fires in close proximity brings me to the edge of my teaching practice and I spend the class in close focus and engagement.
Despite the soggy woods, the students manage to get small fires build on top of their baking pans (which are sitting atop their stoves) and the prospects for well-baked rolls are looking very good. The required baking time passes and I eagerly await the unveiling. The lids of the frybakes are pried off and golden brown delights are revealed. Wahoo! A peak.
A summit. Everything has come together and the students and I squeal in the delight of a baking adventure. We snap many pictures and enjoy a delicious breakfast.
Yesterday, I turn over the hike out to the students. They lead the way, set the pace, call the breaks, and bring us back to civilization. It is the culmination of our time together and the next step in their evolution as outdoor adventurers. I step back and become the leader that is scarcely heard or seen. I hang back and learn to ID mushrooms from my co-leader and am once again, “along for the ride,” though paying attention for the moments where I need to come forward to manage a risk or provide a gentle direction.
Indeed, as I write this reflection on my week, I see that my life is a series of adventures. Some personal. Some physical. Some with others. Some inside my own head. My hope is to take what I learn from one adventure into the next. And with that, I’ll close for now and get off my chair and go have “a time” doing the dishes or sorting out where the leak in my backroom is coming from.
Have a good week and thanks for your support of Pumori: A Climb for Awareness. I’m glad the link is available since so many of you have been asking for it. Thanks as well to those who pulled up their keyboards for a spot of tea–I enjoyed hearing from you.
With gratitude,
TA
Just back in town after four wonderful days adventuring with my students on the Avalon Peninsula, a truly magical place. As I sorted through the pile of emails that came in while I was gone, I was excited to see one from Paula Tessier. Paula and I have played hockey together for years and she is the staff member for the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation-Atlantic Office in Newfoundland. She is my liaison with the organization and she wrote to say the on-line link for donations to the climb was ready.
Click here to donate to Pumori: Climb for Awareness online via a credit card.
For those who would prefer to use the mail, please visit my website for a downloadable form that you can fill out and mail in with your contribution. In either cases, your donation goes directly and entirely to the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation-Atlantic Office to fund their excellent work towards a future without breast cancer.
Thank you in advance for your support–it will fuel my training over the next two months and will help power me up the mountain. The past week was a rest week. I enjoyed having some extra time to catch my breath and be away from the structure of my training life. I head into the next four-week training cycle tomorrow and know I will be challenged both physically and mentally by its demands.
My week was filled with adventures big and small, some new, some familiar, some outdoors, some with friends. I found this two quotes which rung true for me this week.
One cannot discover new oceans unless one has the courage to lose sight of the shore.
–Andre Gide
A true friend freely, advises justly, assists readily, adventures boldly, takes all patiently, defends courageously, and continues a friend unchangeably.
–William Penn
As I share the outdoors with friends, students, and teammates, new connections are forged. These connections are tempered through hard work, magical moments, and time shared in communion with trees, clouds, oceans, peaks, and stars. My life has been blessed with so many friendships that were kindled around a campfire or sunset. I’ve enjoyed watching my students this summer experience the same blossoming of connection as they hiked, climbed, canoed, kayaked, and backpacked together. This was the crescendo week for the course where their skills and group dynamic were tested over and over again.
On Wednesday, we headed down to Burnt Cove to sea kayak and were greeted right off the beach by a pair of humpbacks. They are truly magnificent and they swam within 20 feet of us as we bobbed in the swell. I have two students from Germany and one from Ontario. I was thrilled for them to have a “close encounter” with our most famous summer visitors. We did lose sight of the shore a few times as we paddled around the islands off Burnt Cove. I had a most unique view on the day. A view spent looking backward through the day.Through a bit of a miscommunication, there was one less boat cockpit than we needed. Jim tried to find another boat for borrow for the paddle but was unsuccessful. Not wanting anyone to have to spend time on the beach, we looked for other options. Jim has a large double in his fleet so we looked to the middle hatch. The two by two hatch proved too small for anyone but the most accomplished yogis (of which we had none in our group) so that option was ruled out. Both Jim and I spied the rear hatch at the same moment. Narrower but longer, I squeezed myself in and knew we had a workable (yet unusual situation).
As Jim shoved our “triple” off the beach and we wobbled insecurely in the mild waves, I knew I was in for quite the day. With no seat, I sat directly on the boat bottom and could feel every splash on the boat’s hull. I had a commanding view of the beach from where we had just departed but no ability to look forward towards where we were headed. A metaphor bubbled immediately into mind and I commented that I would be in a reflective state much of the day looking back.
I had no paddle, no ability to change the course of the boat, I was truly “along for the ride.” I surrendered to my fate and looked to enjoy my powerless position. I found it excellent for photography when we managed to pull up to the group. We frequently found ourselves behind as my poor paddling companions had to drag me everywhere they went. As we rounded one island heading for some caves, the sea became much more confused and the bile of fear rose in my belly. Again, there was nothing I could do but trust my paddlers and sit with the fear. As there was no place to run and no way to get out of the situation, I just had to stay with the feeling and work with my mind.
After much of the group had a touch of seasickness from the wonky seas, I realized I was the perfect person in the group to be sitting in the “trunk.” I almost never get motion sickness, I’ve had enough time in sea kayaks to be able to understand that it was unlikely we would actually flip over, and I could deal with the adventure of looking in a different direction than everyone else. I appreciated the opportunity to surrender and give over control and experience the adventure of sea kayaking in a unique way.
Thursday we headed out into the rain for a backpacking trip into Brock’s Head Pond. The trail was slick and each step was an adventure in itself trying to stay upright with heavy loads on our backs. As I often say, we all have our own Everests and they can be big or small. Carrying a loaded bag isn’t much of an adventure for me anymore but for these first timers, it was huge. The smiles on their faces when we arrived in camp bespoke the pride they felt in their accomplishment. I’m cognizant of celebrating those kinds of moments whenever they occur.
Friday, we embarked on the adventure of cinnamon roll baking. It’s one of the favourite things I teach since it opens new doors (and menus) for the outdoors and it’s so empowering for students to gain a strong skill set with the stoves. Since playing with flammable liquids is generally discouraged in life, students arrive with a healthy fear of the camp stoves. I see it as my job to instill confidence, knowledge, and skill in using these devices that can be quite dangerous (second only to driving in terms of likelihood on injury in the outdoors). Whenever I teach a baking class, I feel like I am an orchestra conductor trying to reign into thinly veiled chaos. Having each group moving through the process in their own time, venting stoves, and lighting twiggy fires in close proximity brings me to the edge of my teaching practice and I spend the class in close focus and engagement.Despite the soggy woods, the students manage to get small fires build on top of their baking pans (which are sitting atop their stoves) and the prospects for well-baked rolls are looking very good. The required baking time passes and I eagerly await the unveiling. The lids of the frybakes are pried off and golden brown delights are revealed. Wahoo! A peak.
A summit. Everything has come together and the students and I squeal in the delight of a baking adventure. We snap many pictures and enjoy a delicious breakfast.Yesterday, I turn over the hike out to the students. They lead the way, set the pace, call the breaks, and bring us back to civilization. It is the culmination of our time together and the next step in their evolution as outdoor adventurers. I step back and become the leader that is scarcely heard or seen. I hang back and learn to ID mushrooms from my co-leader and am once again, “along for the ride,” though paying attention for the moments where I need to come forward to manage a risk or provide a gentle direction.
Indeed, as I write this reflection on my week, I see that my life is a series of adventures. Some personal. Some physical. Some with others. Some inside my own head. My hope is to take what I learn from one adventure into the next. And with that, I’ll close for now and get off my chair and go have “a time” doing the dishes or sorting out where the leak in my backroom is coming from.
Have a good week and thanks for your support of Pumori: A Climb for Awareness. I’m glad the link is available since so many of you have been asking for it. Thanks as well to those who pulled up their keyboards for a spot of tea–I enjoyed hearing from you.
With gratitude,
TA
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