50 Crazy Things in my 50th Year #15 – Beat the Blerch – Get out of control

reeds

This may not seem like a big deal to some, but it is a huge deal to me.

I am always the person who organizes, plans, controls. I don’t always want to be but often that’s the role I fall into and I do it fairly willingly. When something needs to be organized, the people I am with often look to me. I used to resist this, but I often end up with this attitude of, “I’ll do it because nobody else will.” That’s probably not true, but that’s the way it feels.

Lately, having started running with Jody Lenarcic and her wonderful husband, Gerry. I have been given the opportunity to let go of control a bit and it’s been quite liberating. Gerry is also an organizer, and when we run he picks our route and makes sure we don’t get lost on the trails. It felt a bit weird at first, but now it’s a lot easier. We run in the Lac Du Bois Grasslands area just above Bachelor Heights in Kamloops. There is an extensive trail network for runners and mountain bikers and this area is right above where Jody and Gerry live.

It feels a bit alarming but even though I’m pretty famous for memorizing landmarks and trails, I would have a hard time running in that area by myself. In the past year I’ve ceded control to Gerry when it comes to trail choice and making sure I don’t get lost.

We decided to do the Beat the Blerch 10K run in Seattle. The run itself is fantastic – one of the best I’ve ever done. It’s the brainchild of a writer and cartoonist known as The Oatmeal (Matthew Inman). He wrote an essay / book called The terrible and wonderful reasons why I run long distances. In it he describes a creature called the Blerch – that voice in your head that tries to stop you from bothering to reach your goals. The idea is that the Blerch is always chasing you, trying to get you to succumb to laziness and excuses. The goal of any runner on any run is to literally beat the Blerch and not let it catch them. For this race, there are live guys dressed as Blerches chasing you on the course, there is a couch for you to rest on, magical fizzy grape juice and cake at the water station, and lots of people in costume. It was our first time at this event and it was outstanding. We will definitely be doing it again.

The crazy part of this trip, however, was only partially the race itself. It was the fact that I consciously, and deliberately, let go of control and refused to let myself organize anything. We had an entire weekend just outside Seattle and I organized nothing. I felt a bit panicked and out of control… like I was going to forget something, or be surprised by something, the whole time. Well, I was surprised… by a lot of things.

When I think about signing up for any race I always look at past results to see roughly where I would finish. I deliberately don’t do small events where I would likely finish last and they would be waiting for me to finish… memories of high school. I usually choose bigger events where I will likely finish somewhere in the middle.

For this event, I refused to let myself look at past results. Instead, I looked at all the fun we could have. Jody and I don’t run fast but we do like to have fun.

I also gave up all control – hotel, transportation, restaurants, etc… all of it… to Gerry and everyone else. There were 5 of us and I controlled nothing the entire weekend. I thought I was going to have a heart attack but I did it. Gerry picked the hotel and reserved it, I jumped into the backseat of their truck and took on the role of passenger. Diane and Catherine met us at the hotel. Right now I can’t even remember which hotel it was… this is astonishing for me!

I think it’s generally a good thing that I’m usually the organizer, but I think it’s good to not do it every once in a while too. The biggest thing I had to learn was to just let it happen, enjoy the process, and embrace the surprises that came my way when I wasn’t so busy making things happen.

We left on the Saturday and the run was on the Sunday. We were staying on the edge of Kirkland, WA (home of Costco) and all of my travel companions decided we would go down to Lake Washington to find a restaurant for dinner. Catherine had been there before. I was along for the ride and agreed to go anywhere. It turns out the waterfront area of Kirkland is spectacular and we were treated to a good dinner, and a fantastic walk after where we enjoyed one of the most amazing sunsets I’ve ever seen. I took hundreds of pictures. We walked along the dock area looking at all the boats, enjoyed the amazing array of street performers and public sculptures, and just had a wonderful time together. I probably would have looked for a restaurant close to the hotel and I’m so glad for the surprises we enjoyed that evening.

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This sculpture of kids playing Red Rover was too tempting – Gerry had to play.

 

The next day we went to the start area, which was somewhere in the country (??? no idea where) – I didn’t actually memorize the map of the area like I had before.

It was pouring rain and beautiful. Jody and I didn’t have a spectacular run – we hadn’t trained as much as we would have liked and the humidity nearly did me in. We didn’t finish last – I think we were somewhere in the middle. I don’t really know because to this day I haven’t looked at the results. I know I had a great time, and I know my time probably wasn’t great… if that makes sense!

When Amanda and I went to Florida in February I also gave control to her for the Disney World portion of our trip, and with good reason, she’s a Disney freak and possibly even more of an organizer than I am. She was brilliant! If you are thinking of a trip to Disneyland, check out her new blog Call Me Sweetness. I was in charge of our Universal day, however, so I still had some organizational responsibilities. It turns out they didn’t work out so well and we had to improvise… but no matter.

Why was this crazy?

We all have roles in our lives that we are comfortably, or uncomfortably, slotted into. These are the roles we are expected to fall into when we are with our friends, family, coworkers, etc. I am always the responsible one… it’s who I am. Choosing to not be that person, while not being irresponsible, was definitely out of my comfort zone.

Would I do it again?

Oh yeah! Not only does it make me try on and embrace a different role, it was unbelievably liberating. I felt like I was floating, often without direction, and going where the wind, or the people I was with, decided to take me. It’s a good thing to practice. It was definitely uncomfortable, but I just had to trust the people I was with and learning to do that is a very good thing as well.

50 Crazy Things in my 50th Year – #14 – Go on a date

“active geeky girl seeks active guy with manners”

Ok, it’s taken me a long time to organize my thoughts around this one. This crazy thing, going on a date, was actually completed in August but here it is in January and I’m finally writing about it. The thing is, it doesn’t really have an ending.

I took myself out of the dating pool years ago for various reasons and I thought maybe it would be time to dip my toe back in the water again. The problem is I meet very few single men in my life. I work primarily with women, my library patrons are either beyond creepy, happily married, or over 90, and I’m not a person who goes to bars. I just don’t meet a lot of guys.

Just as I was figuring out how to approach this a friend had some success with online dating. Now, I was the first person to criticize online dating at the time, and for many years before this. I know a lot of people who have tried it and I believed it was a meat market for desperate people. I went into it with an open mind, however, and I was pleasantly surprised. As an introvert, my happy place is online where I can mingle from the safety of my own home. Online dating is perfect! It’s almost like online shopping but there’s no shopping cart.

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I decided to check out Plenty of Fish. I wrote up a profile, rewrote it 10X, got my friend Tammy to check it over… perhaps not my best choice, added some pictures, and once I stopped shaking, I made my profile active… for about five minutes before I hid my profile again in absolute horror.

I immediately got a long list of matches and the contents of this list made me promptly rethink the whole dating concept…. and my lot in life. A convent suddenly looked pretty good.

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About 40% of my list looked like they were regulars on Duck Dynasty (click link to see what I mean). They all wore camo, were proud of their ATVs and their hunting skills, had long beards and beer bellies. They probably didn’t like Shakespeare. My heart sank. This was not looking good!

The next 40% looked like they were auditioning for Sons of Anarchy (click link if you don’t know). I have a lot of very good friends who live for their motorcycles and even wear leather and all the Harley gear. I’m not that person. I did ride on the back of a motorcycle for one of my crazy things (blog post to come), but it’s not really my thing. Plus, they ride touring bikes, these guys rode bikes with the wide handlebars, loud engines, riding low, all leather and tiny helmets…. definitely not my thing. My heart sank just a little bit more.

After that it got scarier, 10% were just downright creepy. A few library patrons (not the good kind) showed up. Guys who take bodybuilding, and their love for steroids, a bit too far also made an appearance. Then there is a special list I’ll describe later… I call these the all stars. Even if I found the right guy and was in a relationship I would keep my account hidden so the writer in me would have access to characters nobody would believe really existed. These guys are a goldmine for a writer!

The final 10% on my initial list actually gave me hope for humanity, and most of them live in either Vernon or Kelowna. Kelowna must have a serious lack of single women because easily 50% of my most interesting matches are from the Okanagan.

Thoughts on the Dating Process

Rejecting isn’t easy – It never occurred to me that I would have to reject men who asked me out. This was not really a part of my existence before, so the realization that I had absolutely no skills at rejecting people was really shocking. When I first had to start doing it I made a commitment to be kind. It’s hard to put yourself out there and I of all people should know that. Each time I’ve had to do it I feel a little ripped apart inside and it’s almost physically painful. To the guys who have actually read my profile and approached me I have been kind. The other guys, however, the “hey baby how’s it going?” guys, who admit to using drugs in their profile and obviously didn’t read the part in my profile that says any kind of drugs are 100% out of the question… I don’t have as hard of a time rejecting them. I consider my profile to be a bit of a literacy test… if you can’t read and don’t make it to the end of my profile, you have no chance and I’ll pretty much know right away.

Am I too picky? I’ve also put a lot of thought into what were the characteristics or qualities that made me dismiss someone outright based solely on a profile. Sometimes I noticed I would dismiss someone because of his height (too tall or too short… I’m 5’4” so I really don’t have any room to judge). Sometimes it was purely because they liked watching MMA (Mixed Martial Arts). I mentally eliminated someone because he was too good looking. Sometimes the writing snob in me reared her fiery jaws and I eliminated someone because they couldn’t string two sentences together. I went through a brief phase where I eliminated every one of the guys who had a dead fish in their profile picture – easily 50% of my list! Come on, guys! I don’t care if you fish but it almost looks primitive… “Look ladies, I can provide food!” I couldn’t believe how many of them had a dead fish in their profile – big fish (marlin, sturgeon), little fish, salmon, all kinds. It was like show and tell, but smelled like fish. Is this really their best selling feature? I’ve had to let that one go a bit and get over it, but seriously… pick a different picture!

Many of the reasons I rejected men were completely unreasonable. I find this fascinating and it’s really made me look at my interactions with strangers and how people get through my minefield of defenses. This is now an ongoing quest to understand myself better. I’d like to try and figure out why I can like one person instantly, and dislike another person just as fast… and what those opinions are based on. How often do I reject someone really awesome based on a trivial detail like not having a grip on ‘There, their and they’re’? Even the guy I eventually went on a date with… I rejected him right away because he said his idea of roughing it was when room service ended. I figured if he even considers room service I’m not in his league.

The All Stars

Now, remember that 10%… the All Stars? Fodder for writers hungry for original characters? Here are some examples of creatures I’ve encountered on the dating journey thus far. These people have been matched to me, many have viewed my profile, but only a few of them have actually contacted me.

Creatures I’ve encountered…

  • 20 year olds pretending to be 45 (creating a fake profile with the wrong age) because they dig older women – the first time one of these guys contacted me I was dumbfounded… no, I’m not your Mrs. Robinson… and you don’t even know who she was!
  • Dominant seeking submissive … I’m gagging just a lot!
  • Submissive seeking dominant… get a backbone!
  • Man looking for ‘discrete’ companionship – his status says he’s not single / not looking. This guy still views me at least once a week. Because he doesn’t have a picture he can’t contact me… To contact me you have to have a picture and have to be between 43 and 55 years old (unless you’re lying like the 20 year olds – see above). If he does  contact me my “be nice” button will definitely be malfunctioning at the time.
  • Guy looking for immediate company, just in town for the night – profile picture shows jeans with the fly undone and Calvin Klein underwear – seriously??? Get a life!
  • A couple seeking a threesome – just… NO!!!!!
  • A guy seeking a threesome and companionship for his wife while he’s away on business – do I even need to explain how much this grosses me out??
  • A woman to man transsexual – actually looks like an interesting person to know but definitely not what I’m looking for as a date.
  • Conspiracy theorists – my favourite! One step away from a tinfoil hat… trying to convince me through their profile of government secrets, Hollywood mind control, blah blah blah.
  • His headline says, “I guess all the good ones aren’t on Plenty of Fish” – seriously dude, what does that say about the person who bothered to read your profile… let’s just think about that!

Friends of mine have encountered guys who look nothing (I mean NOTHING) like their profile picture. One guy sent a friend a recent picture and he went from cute and fun in his profile picture to serial killer in about 2 milliseconds. She also got a “dick pic” from another guy … yup… an erect penis as a guy’s profile picture…DELETE! Another friend was chatting with a guy she liked when he finally told her his marriage had recently broken up and he was actually into cross dressing… would that be a problem with her? …. PERHAPS!!!!!! She also sent me a screaming message when she was matched with her cousin – ah the perils of small town online dating… I was crying I was laughing so hard!

dating michelle

The Rosie Project

When I started my crazy things last February it was on a plane to Florida with Amanda. I was listening to the audiobook of The Rosie Project by Graeme Simsion. This is a brilliant and hilarious book about a man with some unique views on the world who has recruited his friends to find him a wife. He has a very special list of criteria and a multipage questionnaire to quickly eliminate women who don’t meet his criteria. Of course, it all goes horribly wrong. I actually burst out laughing on the plane, which made Amanda look at me like I had four heads. She read it after and also burst out laughing. I highly recommend this book. It gave me a perspective on dating that has kept me thinking through this process. Of course, when I listened to the audiobook I hadn’t yet added dating to my list of crazy things.

My first contact

I wasn’t going to write about this guy but since he’s shown up again I think I’ll add him for your reading entertainment. Right after I put my profile up he sent me a message. We chatted for a bit. He seemed OK although I couldn’t see his face in his pictures (too far away). His picture showed him on a stand up paddleboard so at least he liked being outside. His profile said he was 51 and he liked a lot of the same activities I do. He asked for a picture of all of me because he could only see my head. All of my pictures were from the shoulders up. Fair enough, I thought, but I could see where it was going. I was very honest in my profile that I still had some pounds to lose. I sent a fun running picture and said he’d need to send one that included his face. He promptly disappeared. It was actually a good thing it happened. I then added this to my profile:

…And if you’re looking for a tall thin super model good luck with that. While I am super, I am not tall. I am curvy and very fit. If you’re my age and looking for mature life experience and conversation wrapped in a 25 year-old body then please keep looking.

The reason I’m including this loser in this blog posting is because he gave me one of the greatest gifts I could ask for. After our conversation and the picture incident he started changing his profile picture almost by the hour – some had his face, some didn’t. I kept him on my ultra match list (the list I could delete from) because I obviously got to him and it was pretty entertaining.

Then he removed his profile and I forgot about him. He reappeared a few weeks later with a different user name. Now this was getting really interesting. He messaged a friend of mine (close to my age). I told her about my experience so she ignored him. Guys, women talk… you’re in a small town… might want to think about that! Then he checked out another friend, she just turned 30, and I told her. She said he was seriously creepy. She had also signed up on another dating site and told me he had a profile there too. That profile said he was 55, not 51. So all this was mildly entertaining when one day he messaged me again. By now I had some good full body pictures on my profile so he knew what I looked like. He was on his third or fourth user name by this time. His message was, “How’s your day going?” Elated, I responded that my day was pretty awesome. He wanted to strike up a conversation. He didn’t get what he was bargaining for!

“You know you’ve message me before right? And you disappeared after you asked for a full picture of me.”

“Oh, I…. uh…My account got deleted.”

“Actually, we were messaging by email, which has nothing to do with your Plenty of Fish account. And I could see you online for weeks after as you changed your profile picture multiple times to include your face. And you have another profile on another site that says you’re 55.”

“I uh… so, what do you do for a living?”

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Perhaps my “Be Kind” rejection button was malfunctioning that day… actually I turned it off but I took the high road and didn’t say what I really thought of him! I still keep him in my ultra matches because he’s still pretty entertaining and he has a new username almost every week.

I think every person, male or female, should have that Pretty Woman moment at least once in their lives. It’s the moment where Julia Roberts walks back into a store that refused to help her, dressed to the nines. She says, “Remember me? You wouldn’t serve me… big mistake…big… HUGE!” and then she walks out. I’m pretty grateful to this guy because he gave me my Pretty Woman moment. … big mistake… big…HUGE! I had a big huge grin for the rest of the day.

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Crazy Thing Completed

To meet my criteria for a crazy thing, I only had to go on one date before my 50th birthday – my cousin suggested I should have to go on 50 dates … not sure I could handle that. I’ve actually been out with four guys since I started the process. Two of them have become very good friends. The first one I went out with is one of those friends. I’m not mentioning names, careers, or other details. Instead, you get to just sit back and enjoy the high standard I’ve set for ‘excitement on a first date with Vesta’. Let’s just call my first date in decades… Fred.

be yourself

So Fred messaged me. He said, “I’ve read your profile….,” this was good, he passed the literacy part of the test, “and I’d like to go out for coffee with you.” We chatted for a few days while our schedules worked themselves out and then met for coffee downtown.

In online dating terms, this is considered a first meeting before you go on an actual date. This is where you make sure the profile fits the person, determine they’re probably not a serial killer, there’s no Cyrano action happening with a friend and an earbud microphone dictating the conversation, and usually there are plenty of exits for easy escape. I was nervous, and at first we couldn’t find each other… he was outside and I was inside. Eventually we got it all figured out and had a great time chatting on an outdoor patio over coffee and tea for a couple of hours. We really enjoy talking and have lots to talk about together. We decided to walk around downtown and it was awesome.

When we said goodbye and agreed to go out again he hugged me and then we went our separate ways, and immediately a friend, Tomena, who I hadn’t seen standing nearby grabbed me and asked how I was… busted! She totally knew. It was pretty funny.

The Date

A few nights later we met downtown and as I was walking to where we were supposed to meet I walked right by him (doh!). Both of us were tired. He’d had an unexpectedly stressful day at work and for me it was Wednesday… my busiest day of the week. Dinner was good and we finished early. There was still plenty of daylight and it was a nice summer evening so we walked around downtown, still enjoying the excellent conversation. I should add at this point that I was pretty sure we wouldn’t be a couple – too many things we didn’t have in common, but I really liked him as a friend. You can’t underestimate the value of great conversation.

We ended up in Riverside Park and stood and watched Music in the Park for a few minutes before we continued on with no destination in mind. Heading back downtown there was a train coming so we walked over the pedestrian overpass.

Now, this is where I will trump most people’s stories of their first dates. As we walked I was watching Fred while we were talking. I did notice the two young guys we walked past who were sitting on the top level of the overpass. Remember, I walked right past Fred when I was going to meet him – I am at times easily distracted and don’t notice key things in my surroundings… this is important!

As we were walking down the stairs on the other side of the overpass, he pulled out his phone and started dialing. I asked what he was doing, and very calmly he said, “Calling 911!” I was, to say the least, stunned.

“Why?” I asked.

“Didn’t you see? That guy had a gun!”

Now, what I observed was a guy in a white hoodie and another guy playing a harmonica… that’s it! I didn’t even see the gun because I was looking at Fred, and apparently I only notice clothing and musical instruments.

For a guy who says he was scared to death, he looked exactly the same as he had ten minutes earlier. We walked into a parking lot, out of sight of the overpass, and he gave the information to the dispatcher. He was still on the phone when we heard multiple sirens coming from multiple directions. Now, this was getting really interesting.

Not wanting to be seen as the ones calling the police, we walked around the block and came back down third, ending up in the alley between the Bank of Montreal and the old Burris Clinic. We watched as two police cars, lights on, had the end of the overpass blocked off and they were hauling the two guys off in handcuffs. Then Fred’s phone rang. It was the police. They were sending a police car to us so we could give statements.

So, the police car, and the very young and handsome RCMP officer, pull up and Fred has to get in the car to give a statement while I wait outside. My phone then beeps with a text. It’s my friend Marianne. I tell her I’m on a date and my date just got into a police car to give a statement. Marianne was, understandably, excited and we had some serious fun texting when I told her how cute the cop was. I wish I had secretly taken his picture and sent it to her.

Then Fred got out of the police car and I got in to give a statement that basically said I saw nothing. The police said that one of the guys they arrested had assaulted a police officer a few months earlier and they were pretty happy to be able to get them off the streets for a little while.

After this Fred walked me to my car and we had some laughs about our first date. I knew there were no fireworks but I had a big grin. I’d broken the ice and survived my first date in decades. I had a great time, and I had the BEST FIRST DATE STORY …. EVER!!!!

If there aren’t lights, sirens, and handcuffs on a first date it just doesn’t measure up… the bar for my first dates is now pretty high.

Why was this crazy?

Let me count the ways!

Would I do it again?

Absolutely. The thing with online dating is that it’s not much different than the old fashioned way of meeting people. The people I meet online are the same people I would meet at a grocery store, in a bar, on a bus, and in all the other places people who fall in love first meet. Admittedly, online dating in a smaller town like Kamloops is different and more difficult than it would be in Vancouver or another larger city. It’s particularly hard if you grew up here and know half the town.

I’ve always been happy on my own. I’ve never been one to go from relationship to relationship, or suffer because I’m not in a relationship. I’m not willing to settle for someone just for the sake of not being alone. I’m pretty fine alone and very happy. I want someone who enhances my already excellent life. I’m sure there’s a cross country skiing geocacher with a love of Shakespeare, cello music, and sushi out there for me… and if there isn’t, I already have two new friends that I didn’t have before. That puts me firmly in the win column.

By going on my first date, and having the experiences I’ve had so far, it’s really taken the pressure off going out with a guy. I don’t get those nerves anymore – or, not as bad. I don’t take things as personally. This also puts me firmly in the win column and not just for dating but for life in general. I’m much more confident and much less worried about what others think of me.

I haven’t shared all of my dating experiences here… I’ve only scratched the surface, but don’t think I’m letting this gold mine go to waste. There is some pretty awesome material here for a novel or a screenplay and I am keeping meticulous notes! Plus, who knows… I might just meet a keeper… or some more new friends.

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50 Crazy Things in my 50th Year – Thing #13 – Hike to the Conair Plane Crash Site

Cabin Lake

Cabin Lake

A couple of years ago a group of us in two pickup trucks drove on the worst road I’ve ever been on to get a Gold Country geocache at Cabin Lake. We were trying to finish the first series of Gold Country geocaches and this was one of the hard ones to get. The cache itself is pretty easy to find and Cabin Lake is a beautiful spot. The problem here is THE ROAD FROM HELL!

Leaving from Highway 8 between Merritt and Spences Bridge, one of my favourite roads by the way, the road to Cabin Lake starts off innocently enough – a 25 Km winding gravel road that is well maintained, dotted with lovely little ranches and acreages. The road climbs up into the mountains before reaching a Y turnoff. This is where things get ugly. The last 5 Km to Cabin Lake is by far the worst road I’ve ever been on… no… seriously… THE WORST!

It took us a good hour to travel 5 Km. Several times we had to get out of the trucks to see how we could get through difficult spots – the whole road was difficult. One time we had to all stand on the back bumpers of the trucks so the front bumpers would clear the gullies we were driving through. At times we got out and added rocks so at least three wheels could touch at once. My mother swore she would never travel on that road again (and she has remained true to her word). On that trip we found the geocache and then split up. We (John Buchanan, Yvonne Odber, Sophie Odber, Mom and Me) were going to get another harder Gold Country cache at the Cornwall Hills forestry lookout near Ashcroft. Rejean and Alisa, in the other truck, were going to do a hike to a nearby plane crash site. We all wished we could do both, but we chose Cornwall. Still, the plane crash was in the back of our minds but thanks to that road we pretty much ruled out ever going back.

When it came time to pick things to do for my 50 Crazy Things the plane crash hike was on my list. I sent John a message asking if he and Ava (his truck) would like to go back to Cabin Lake to do the hike. He flat out said no. Then he sent another message saying, “Ava was kicking up her heels/tires, begging to go… I guess we’re going”.

It was crazy to do that road once having heard what it was like. It was absolutely nuts to go in again KNOWING what the road was like.

So, on August 23rd we loaded up in two trucks and nine of us drove up into the mountains looking for adventure and the wreckage from a plane crash. In Ava was Yvonne Odber, Sophie Odber, and John. In the other truck (no name) was Landon Dick, Jaydan Dick, Krista Dick, Jody and Gerry Lenarcic, and me. Smoke from fires in Washington State made the trip hazy and in a way it set the mood for the haunting journey we were about to make.

The Road
Oddly enough, the road was definitely not as bad as it was the first time. Sure, the trucks were totally pinstriped by trees and brushes by the time we got back (that’s how you know you had a good time in the bush), and at times it felt like we were on a roller coaster, but we never had to get out and stand on the bumper so I say that was a win. It didn’t take us an hour this time, maybe 45 minutes, and then we were at the lake where we were surprised to see multiple campsites in use by campers driving vehicles that had also survived the road. I don’t want to leave you with the wrong impression, though. It’s still the worst road I’ve ever been on!

The Hike
A 10 Km hike (round trip) to the plane crash site on Stoyoma Mountain, the trail is not terribly difficult or dangerous.

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Figuring out what trail we’re supposed to be on

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The smoke creating a haze at Cabin Lake

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Cabin for rent at Cabin Lake

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Someone called these Hippy Sticks

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Jaydan – King of Balance

Leaving from the lake we climbed further into the smoke through alpine meadows, catching spectacular views that were enhanced by the smokey sky. The wildflowers that paint the landscape with bright colours in alpine regions were nearing the end of their season but still spectacular. The scenery was magnificent. Eventually we found ourselves above most of the smoke in a rocky valley along the slope of Mt. Stoyoma.

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The smoke in the valley.

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The Crash Site
Our first view of the plane crash site came as we left a grove of thick trees that opened into the exposed valley. What seemed like small pieces of metal were glinting in the sun on the slope of the mountain. I had a hard time seeing it at first, it looked like a natural part of the rocky slope. As we got closer, though, the size of the pieces became evident.

Even with a zoom lens the wreckage looked small from a distance.

Even with a zoom lens the wreckage looked small from a distance.

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Landon, a volunteer firefighter, surveying the landscape.

We stopped in the valley and ate lunch on some large boulders before we picked our way up to the wreckage. Arriving at the wreckage, which is strewn in large and small pieces down the mountainside, the size became much clearer. The plane was large, and the scope of the debris field gave us a chilling idea of how violent the crash had been.

Krista and Jaydan

Krista and Jaydan

This was when I realized how grateful I was that I was with the people I was with. There was no joking, or disrespectful talk when we were at the wreckage. It wasn’t necessarily somber, but it was reflective. A man had died here, and he did it providing a service that people who live in BC’s interior rely on every summer. Living in a world of trees and hot, dry desert summers we are nothing without firefighters.

Conair #24
The wreckage we were visiting came from Conair #24 – a Douglas A/B-26 Invader that had started out in the US Air Force. Later, in 1957, it was registered as a civilian aircraft after it was sold to a private company. In 1971 it was purchased by Conair Aviation of Abbotsford where it would be used to fight forest fires. On August 10, 1971, it crash landed in Prince George, but survived to fly again.

This was Conair 24, the same wreckage we hiked to on Stoyoma Mountain.

This was Conair 24, the same wreckage we hiked to on Stoyoma Mountain.

Conair 22 in action

This is Conair 24’s sister plane, Conair 22, in action.

Three years later, almost to the day, on August 11, 1974, pilot Eric Yuill was flying Conair #24, fighting forest fires in a particularly bad summer for fires in the BC interior. By the time Yuill took off that day it was already one of the most tragic summers in the BC Forest Service firefighting program. On August 2nd, while fighting a fire 13 Km southeast of Ashcroft, a DC 6 Tanker (number 41) crashed killing all three crew members on board. Within 9 days two Douglas A26’s crashed, killing their pilots. The second was Eric Yuill. The wreckage of Yuill’s plane is still in its resting place on Stoyoma Mountain. According to one person who recalled the incident, Yuill’s plane wasn’t found for three weeks after the crash. I have no idea if this is true or not. But either way, it’s very sad.

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Living in Kamloops we see the tankers and helicopters flying in and out of the airport all summer. The distinctive motors are sounds we connect with heat, wind, and the smell of smoke that hangs in the valley. In a way it begins to look routine. Planes fly out with retardant or water, planes fly back empty. No big deal… till one doesn’t return.

I couldn’t find any more information about Eric Yuill. If I do find some, and I’ll be looking, I’ll post an update here.

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Why was this crazy?
Well, the road, for one thing, and the journey for another. Seriously, who would go on that road twice? That’s just wrong! But the journey… that’s another thing. How often do we say, “Oh, we should do that someday” and never do? Even when that thing is in our own back yard? That’s what makes it crazy. We can talk all we want about the cool things we want to do, but how many times do we actually do them?

Would I do it again?
Oddly enough, I would. If / when I buy a 4X4 vehicle then the ability to make it on the road to Cabin Lake will be my new minimum standard when I make my choice.

Huge thanks to John Buchanan (and Ava), Yvonne Odber, Sophie Odber, Landan Dick, Krista Dick, Jaydan Dick, Jody Lenarcic and Gerry Lenarcic for joining me on this adventure!

For more information:
Pictures and a brief history of Conair #24
http://napoleon130.tripod.com/id302.html

The Canadian Fallen Firefighters Foundation (Eric Yuill’s page)
http://www.cfff.ca/EN/fallen/detail/?id=677

History of Aviation in the BC Forest Service: A pictorial account for the BCFS Centennial November 2011 – Part 2 : Air Tanker Operations
http://www.bcfs100.ca/docs/pdf/1/481.pdf

50 Crazy Things in my 50th Year – Thing #12 – A spontaneous thing! Let my cousin drag me around a lake while she tries to kill me.

When we were kids my brother and I spent all of our Christmases and summers at our family farm near Perdue, Saskatchewan. That side of my family is small and extremely close. My cousins are more like brothers and sisters to us.
 

Loral, my maniac cousin.

Loral, my maniac cousin.

One of the things I remember doing in my early teens was skidooing. The six of us (cousin 7 was pretty little at the time) would go out to the field next to my aunt and uncle’s house at night with a skidoo and an inner tube from a tractor. On a cloudy night we would only see the lights from the house. Everything else was pitch black. The field had a stand of trees at the far end and a slough with tall reeds and grasses in the middle. It was always incredibly cold (it was Saskatchewan!).
 
Once we got out there, inevitably, a ‘game’ of crack the whip would ensue. The idea behind this activity was simple. One person drove the skidoo. Another rode behind him / her, and four others would ride the tube. It was a big tube. Unlike the tubes people use on lakes now, these tubes didn’t have handles or anything to hold on to. You had to squeeze your legs and arms around it and hope for the best. Nobody ever lasted long, but we kept trying thinking, “This time I know I can hold on!”
For those of you who don’t know what Crack the Whip is, here is the Wikipedia definition:
 

Crack the Whip is a simple outdoor children’s game that involves physical coordination, and is usually played in small groups, either on grass or ice. One player, chosen as the “head” of the whip, runs (or skates) around in random directions, with subsequent players holding on to the hand of the previous player. The entire “tail” of the whip moves in those directions, but with much more force toward the end of the tail. The longer the tail, the more the forces act on the last player, and the tighter they have to hold on.

 
Sounds simple, right?
 
When we played Crack the Whip the driver of the skidoo would drive around in large circles, building up momentum, as the tube and its passengers swung around faster and faster. In the early days of the game, when we were just figuring out how horrible it could really be. It was enough that the driver would go over bumps, or go fast. If people fell off, the driver would need to stop and turn off the engine to hear the screams because seeing the stranded pre-teens and teens was impossible. Once you heard the screams you could head off in a direction toward them. For those who fell off and were waiting to be rescued, the sound of coyotes and other creatures of the dark off in the distance was unsettling, to put it politely.

Crack the Whip... how I missed you... not!

Crack the Whip… how I missed you… not!

In the advanced form of the game, the driver of the skidoo would drive around and around and then direct the circles in such a way that the tube flew up over a jump made from reeds from the slough that were laying down because we had driven over them with the tube so many times. They formed a sort of ramp. Ah the memories! Now, when we flew off the tube, because it was absolutely impossible to hold on, we were flying through the air, in pitch blackness, waiting for the inevitable hard landing in a snowbank. I actually clearly remember a moment where I was flying through the air and I was unsure of what part of my body was closest to the ground, and what position I would land in.
 
Isn’t it amazing we all survived to adulthood and the only injury I remember was my cousin Lisa getting frostbite around her ankle because she had grown since the previous winter and she, of the long legged variety, had exposed skin from where the legs of her skidoo suit were too short.
 
Now, fast forward approximately 34.5 years. My last night at the lake this summer in July was supposed to be uneventful until my cousin, Loral, walked by me and said, “Come on, you’re going to be spontaneous and it will be crazy. You and Ben are going tubing.” Ben is her son, who is about 8, and fearless.
 
It’s important to note here that Loral was frequently the driver of the skidoo. Are you seeing the picture here?
 
So, an unplanned crazy thing happened and apparently, I survived.
 
Ben and I got our lifejackets on and got onto the tube. This tube had good sturdy handles and the grip I had on them reminded me of being on the Tower of Terror at Disneyworld with Amanda. I had a death grip on those handles.
 
Loral towed us out into the middle of Jackfish Lake, and proceeded to try and kill me…. Ah, Crack the Whip, how I missed you! My other cousin Krista took pictures. None are great because Loral was driving like a maniac, but they prove I was there.
 
It felt like it lasted for days but it might have been an hour in total. I was screaming the entire time, which Ben thought was hilarious. I seriously thought if I let go of that handle I was going to be flung half way to Alberta. I was screaming to slow down, my butt wasn’t even touching the tube, and Ben, holding on with one hand, is telling her to speed up. I love my family… freaks! The only way it would have been scarier is if it was at night…. on ice!
 
The next day I had to drive home and my arms were screaming at me the whole 14 hours… something about, “What the hell were you thinking?”
 
Why was this crazy?
I’m not a very spontaneous person. I like to plan things and know what to expect. All I had to go on was that Loral was driving and that memory from my teens of flying through the air and not knowing if I was going to land on my head or my butt.
 
Would I do it again?
Probably, I think Ben is counting on it. He took too much pleasure in my screams. He is definitely his mother’s son.

Ben... he is his mother's son.

Ben… he is his mother’s son.

50 Crazy Things in my 50th Year – Thing #11 – 10X Up the Steps to the Lighthouse in Cochin, SK

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So, apparently professional tower running is a real thing. I don’t see it as a key part of my career path but I do enjoy the challenge!

Last year on my annual holiday at Jackfish Lake in Saskatchewan I needed to do a workout that alternated with running as I try and not run back to back days unless I’m silly enough to be training for back to back races. The town of Cochin is about a 10 minute drive from Aquadeo Beach, where our family has had a cabin for over 60 years. Cochin is the home of the only lighthouse in Saskatchewan (for more 20150730_110633information on the history of the lighthouse click here). It’s a cool hike up on 158 uneven wood and dirt stairs and when you get to the top the view is spectacular. In order to make it more than a 10 minute workout I decided to do the stairs 5X. I survived! It was hard but I felt good for doing it.

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When I was planning my 50 Crazy Things I decided to up my game a bit and do those same stairs 10X. What was I thinking???

So, the day after a hard run and two days after doing some serious squats in the cabin when the weather was a bit fowl, I set out to tackle the stairs. Every year I try and count the stairs and get horribly muddled. I’m glad the website for the town of Cochin has an official record.

When I started the first time I picked up a small rock. I carried it in my hand until I reached the top and then put it in my water pouch. I knew I would lose count of how many times I’d gone up. I started do go back down and promptly turned my ankle 20150730_110705badly in a hole in the dirt on the top stair. For the rest of the workout that leg was super shaky going down and I held on to the railing for extra support. Another woman, super fit and looks like she does these stairs a lot, started just after I did. She wasn’t very friendly and she was racing the whole way. At the top she did push ups and other exercises before going down again. She was frustrated when families with little kids were blocking the stairs so she would go up or down half way and then back to keep moving. I politely waited at the top or bottom for them to get out of the way. My manners gave me a chance to catch my breath – ulterior motive! On her last way down, when I was on about my fourth ascent, she was shocked. She took off her headphones and asked how many I was doing. When I told her I was doing 10 she nearly fell down the stairs. My smirk was only mildly visible on the outside and pretty freaking huge on the inside. A story about a tortoise and a hare came to mind!

There were two other guys who came later. Very buff and macho, they also asked how many I had done. When I told them eight they were slightly deflated. They

I went up this many times!

I went up this many times!

each did two and gave up. Just call me a tortoise!

Each time I reached the top I put another rock in my water pouch. When I was

finished number nine I wanted to confirm I only needed to do one more. I pulled out the rocks and only found eight! I was panicked until I found another little rock tucked in between my keys. Note to self: next year take marbles!

So here is some perspective on my stair climb that I discovered after I finished. My climb involved 1580 stairs… remember that when you look at the numbers below.

I think I may have a new goal! Generally I’m not really into tall buildings. I usually avoid them but not because I’m afraid of heights but they feel a bit unnatural. I’m pretty sure images of 911 didn’t help. A side note for many of these stair climbs, firefighters often race these events in full gear – I bow to their greatness as I’m not sure I could even attempt it!

Great collections of stairs from around the world:

Eiffel Tower (Paris) – 1665 steps. Only the first 704 are available to the public. An Australian woman did the tower run (sounds like the Kessel Run in Star Wars), which involves all the steps, in 10 mins, her first time in a previous year was 44 mins.

CN Tower (Toronto) – 1776 steps. Every year they hold a tower run as a fundraiser for the World Wildlife Fund.

Space Needle (Seattle) – 848 steps (no problem!). They also have a new yearly event – the Base to Space fundraiser.

Empire State Building (New York) – 1576 steps (I did this… in Saskatchewan!). Their tower run is the world’s oldest and most famous tower race. That same Australian woman won last year.

Wall Centre (Vancouver) – 739 steps (easy as pie!). They have a yearly Race for Clean Air.

Willis Tower (Chicago) – 2109 steps (gulp). Try their tower run!

Burj Khalifa (Dubai) – 2909 steps (gasp!). It doesn’t look like they have a tower run but residents here could be getting very good at the sport as the developer apparently threatened to shut down the elevators due to unpaid fees.

Ruins of Machu Picchu (Peru) – 1900 steps (hmmmmm – tempting). This is more my style.

Why was this crazy?

Ummm… think about it! Actually, I’m a real numbers person and this seemed like a great challenge.

Would I do it again?

Probably next year… can anyone say Eiffel Tower? That would be 11X. Actually doing one of these actual races wouldn’t appeal to me as the stairs are usually pretty closed off and I’m not in love with tight spaces.

10X Done!

10X Done!

50 Crazy Things in my 50th Year – Thing #10 – Return to the Place Where I Was Born

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We are born at a given moment, in a given place and, like vintage years of wine, we have the qualities of the year and of the season of which we are born. Astrology does not lay claim to anything more.

Carl Jung

Not sure why this has been such a big deal to me for so long but after 49

I'm back! Did you miss me?

I’m back! Did you miss me?

years I finally went back to see the town where I was born. In February of 1966 I made my debut in the bustling metropolis of Meadow Lake, Saskatchewan.

According to eye witness reports, from my mother, we were the only ones in the maternity ward at the time. It was a Thursday. The doctor was also in a curling bonspiel on the day I was born and he came in to see my mom and asked if she could hold off because it looked like they might make the finals. Apparently, he missed the finals. Those same eye witness reports indicate I was not necessarily a beautiful baby, but I was still lovable. Another woman came in shortly after and had a caesarean. Her little girl was all pink and perfect. I on the other hand had hair that went in all directions and a somewhat squished face. The nurses tried to put a bow in my hair – it didn’t work.

We didn’t actually live in Meadow Lake, it was just the nearest hospital. We lived in aIMG_9970 much smaller town… Rapid View… which is about 30 Km North of Meadow Lake. The joke about Rapid View is its name – if you blink you miss it.

I know my mom wasn’t happy in her relationship around this time, and that never really got any better. I also know she is the kind of mom most people would dream about – smart, fun, creative, loving, spontaneous, and devoted. My brother and I couldn’t have asked for better.

Revisiting the past

Like I said, I’m not sure why I never went back. Every summer for almost my entire life I’ve spent time at our family cabin at Jackfish Lake, which is only 120 Km from Meadow Lake, but in the opposite direction than we usually travel. For the last few summers I’ve felt a pull to go, see where I was born, see what community affected my vintage, to reference Jung’s quote. This year, with 50 Crazy Things to organize, I decided I had to go and I wanted mom to go with me.

It was a nice day and we had a lot of laughs on the drive up. I was surprised at how quickly the landscape of Northern Saskatchewan changed. I am used to rolling hills of neatly ordered fields, sky as far as the eye can see, and clumps of trees lined up to provide wind break to houses and buildings. Quickly we were travelling on a road that was thick with pine and poplar trees and there were few fields to be seen. Closer to Meadow Lake the fields appeared again and I felt relief. I suddenly didn’t like being boxed in by the forest.

My passport says my place of birth is Meadow Lake, Canada. Customs officers often ask where it is and comment that it sounds beautiful. I remember living in Ireland and using my passport as ID at the bank and other places, tellers would comment too on how idyllic it sounded. Compared to other Saskatchewan place names like Elbow and Eyebrow, it does sound idyllic, but I had heard it was a rough place without much going for it.

When we got to Meadow Lake I was surprised, and so was mom. It was a lot biggerIMG_9974 than I expected, and cleaner. Yards were large and well kept, the town actually looked quaint and almost fun. Not fun enough that I want to move there, but more than I was expecting. We got our bearings and continued through town to find Rapid View. Mom couldn’t remember just how far it was and everything looked different. She even wondered if the town had disappeared, become a ghost town. Ahead I saw road signs indicating the speed was about to drop to 60 and I suspected we were there. The joke is right, if you blinked you would miss it.

Less town and more a collection of houses with a school / recreation centre and what used to be a store, Rapid View was also very well kept, and very small. The population sign said 27. I asked mom what the population was when we were there. She laughed, and said, “27”! I wondered if they used a marker on the sign to increase it to 28 once I arrived.

My mom and dad lived in a trailer that was parked behind the store. I pulled the car

This used to be the store. Our trailer was behind the main building on the left.

This used to be the store. Our trailer was behind the main building on the left.

up and parked on the road across from what had been the store to take a look. The trailer went with my parents when they left for Edmonton. Now the store is an embroidery business. Across the street is a recreation centre and school all rolled into one. She laughed and said there used to be a curling rink and you had to clean the ice between ends because the walls weren’t very sturdy and allowed the snow to blow through them. We drove around and looked at houses of people she knew before we turned around and went back to Meadow Lake. I bought her lunch at A&W. It is quite possibly the cleanest fast food restaurant I’ve ever been in.

My vintage

Thinking back to the Jung quote again – what is my vintage? Mid 1960’s, an era of social change, a confusing war, and the Beatles. The number one song on the charts on the day I was born was, “These Boots are Made for Walkin’’’ by Nancy Sinatra (that one totally suits me by the way!). My vineyard was Meadow Lake, harsh in winter, doctors who curl, a mother who loves me. I matured in other places – we moved from Rapid View to Edmonton when I was two months old, then Chetwynd a year later, and finally Kamloops right before I turned three. I moved to Vancouver to go to SFU, then to Dublin for eight months after I graduated, back to Vancouver, and then Kamloops again in 1999. I always consider myself a prairie girl, though. I feel an enormous sense of relief when I drive back in the summer and get out of Edmonton – finally I can breathe, I can see the sky, my view is uninterrupted.

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Sign outside the recreation centre in Rapid View. Also part of my vintage apparently.

We cannot escape any of our past or our influences. Our vintage is who we are, the sum of our experiences that nurture and affect the potential for our future.

Why was this crazy?

It was crazy because I’ve thought about, and resisted, doing it for so many years and yet it was so simple. I own all parts of my vintage, the rough around the edges one, the one that loves winter and the prairies, and the one that loves Kamloops.

Would I do it again?

Not sure I need to, but the area is loaded with beautiful lakes waiting to be explored… maybe I will. The sign says Meadow Lake – Where Adventure Begins. My adventure began there, maybe there is more to come?


50 Crazy Things in my 50th Year – Thing #9 – The Berg Lake Trail

(Caution: long post ahead, grab plenty of water and snacks before reading!)

 Solivagant – to wander alone / a solitary wanderer

I came across this word, Solivagant, when it popped up in my email as the word of the day for an online dictionary. Sometimes I look at the words, sometimes I don’t. This one screamed at me so I checked it out. It came at a time when I was deciding whether or not to do the 42 Km Berg Lake Trail. It was one of the first Crazy Things I came up with when I was assembling my list and I had a few people I would have liked to do it with. I’ve never backpacked overnight, although I kayaked overnight over 20 years ago on a tour. I also have very limited camping experience so I was a bit nervous about tackling what would be a difficult trail for me and including the overnight elements. All those potential hiking partners were unavailable so I was thinking of abandoning the plan for something else. Then this word came up, and I knew I had to do it alone. I don’t mind travelling alone, but this was a bit out of my comfort zone. It definitely qualified as a crazy thing and I think it was meant to be. I booked the campsites and made my plans a month in advance – I would hike the 42Km Berg Lake Trail alone in early July. On a whim I put out that I needed to borrow camping equipment and I was inundated with offers from many extreme campers who were eagerly offering me their equipment and help. I was overwhelmed. I never expected to have that kind of support. Danielle Bates and her husband have done the trail a number of times and Danielle and I are a similar height and build so I borrowed most of my equipment from her. I’m so grateful for all the offers. I knew I was taken care of and that people I really respected believed in me. I checked out a blog that featured camping recipes – The Yummy Life – and discovered some food options that would work for me. I was set.

The Berg Lake Trail – Day by Day

To Mt. Robson Provincial Park I left Kamloops early Saturday afternoon. Earlier in the day I had received confirmation of some bad medical news about a very good friend – I was devastated, and I was already thinking about another friend who is undergoing treatment for Breast Cancer, so all the news all hit me at once and I cried all the way to Mount Robson. Actually, to be honest, I cried all the way to Little Fort (about 100Kms from Kamloops) when I realized I didn’t have my

Mt. Robson Provincial Park

Mt. Robson Provincial Park

camera bag with me. Photography was one of the major reasons I was going, and my ID and money were in the bag so I couldn’t have gotten gas or anything if I didn’t turn back. The crying turned into cursing, briefly, and then I settled down and just let the day happen. I went back and got the bag, laughed a bit at myself, went to Dairy Queen and got a Blizzard, and got back on the road, crying and listening to music all the way. Four hours later I made it to the Robson Meadows campground in plenty of time. I felt very quiet and reflective. Being alone was perfect.

Day 1 To Kinney Lake

I knew the day was going to be hot so I planned to be on the trail by 6:00 am. I did not too bad, after having breakfast

Kinney Lake
Kinney Lake

(awesome pineapple and coconut porridge) and dumping a cup of chai tea on Danielle’s backpack (sorry!) I got myself organized and started on the trail at 6:45 am. There were plenty of cars but no people. It felt a bit strange and it was already hot. I was wearing hiking shorts and a Merino t-shirt from Icebreaker. Although I packed warmer clothes, this is all I wore for three days. The first 6 Km is a lovely trail that leads to Kinney Lake. If you’re driving by and want to stretch your legs, this is a great hike, not too hard and the reward is stunning. I stopped and rested at the Kinney Lake day shelter, filtered a bit of water, and I was feeling pretty good. I was half way to the Whitehorn campsite.

The trail to Kinney Lake

The trail to Kinney Lake

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The trail to Kinney Lake

The trail to Kinney Lake

The trail to Kinney Lake

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To Whitehorn

The hiking trail to Whitehorn is frustrating. You leave the water level at the lake and do this long convoluted and steep

Kinney Lake from the trail to Whitehorn

Kinney Lake from the trail to Whitehorn

route through the trees only to descend again and end up crossing the river bed. I found out after there is a horse trail, which was the original hiking trail, that stays on the river bed – shorter and less strenuous as long as the water is low. I took that trail on the way back and it made a huge difference. Once you leave the riverbed you climb up a trail that is quite rocky and exposed. This is where my trouble started. I met my old friend heat exhaustion!

Heat exhaustion is an illness of overheating, often brought on by high temperatures and physical exertion. It’s one step before heat stroke, which is much more serious. Once you have it once you’re more susceptible to getting it again. I am not a hot weather person at all and I had heat exhaustion when I was about 18 – riding home from working as a lifeguard at the Y in downtown Kamloops. We lived out by the airport and my mom was working at Overlander Extended Care at the time. I didn’t make it home, but I managed to walk my bike the last kilometer or so to get to Overlander. When I walked in the door the nurses who worked with my mom were immediately alarmed and sent her home with me – cool house, lots of salt and fluids, rest. It’s a day I’ll never forget and I’m sure my mom won’t either.

The last part of the walk from Kinney Lake to the Whitehorn Campsite felt exactly like that. I was walking maybe 100m before I needed to stop and drink again, catch my breath, and rest a bit. What saved me was something I threw in my bag at the last minute, Cliff Shot Bloks – gummies we use when running long distances. I had absolutely no appetite but I nibbled on these, which are full of electrolytes and carbohydrates, and drank lots of water. They’re pretty much all I could keep down and I plan to keep an emergency stash with me from now on!

Cliff shot bloks

For your reading entertainment, here are the signs and symptoms of Heat Exhaustion (according to WebMD). I am particularly famous for muscle cramps, fatigue, pale skin, profuse sweating and rapid heartbeat.

Confusion

Dark-colored urine (a sign of dehydration)

Dizziness

Fainting

Fatigue

Headache

Muscle or abdominal cramps

Nausea, vomiting, or diarrhea

Pale skin

Profuse sweating

Rapid heartbeat

I got to the campsite at about 1:00 (I think) and after filtering some more water I managed to set up the tent and lay down for an hour or two which made a huge difference. I noticed that I had absolutely no appetite but I forced myself to have a snack – tuna and crackers, and I didn’t have to pee at all – neither was a good sign. I forced myself to eat some curried rice and I drank buckets of water before going to bed. I also gave myself permission to not continue if I didn’t feel up to it the next morning. I am smart enough to know my limitations and Day 2 was supposed to be my hardest day of all – the climb to Emperor Falls. In the evening the park ranger, who lives in a cabin across the river, came by to chat with people and check their trail

My trail pass

My trail pass

passes. Nobody camps on this trail without a valid pass. She looked at my pass and then look at me, a bit puzzled. “Are you solo?” she asked. I told her I was and she, with obvious respect, said, “Way to go!” I have to admit, I was seriously proud that she was impressed with me. I told her about my heat problems during the day and that I was considering not going any further. If I did go on I was planning to be on the trail by 5:00 am. She told me that if I took my time, had at least 2 litres of water, and was on the trail by 5:00 I’d be fine. There is a part of the next day’s trail that was very exposed on a rock face and she said as long as I was off of that by 10:30 I’d be OK because the sun hits it at about 10:00 and heats up the rocks making that part of the trail pretty uncomfortable later on. I was reassured by her. She was great and I think her words were part of the reason I decided to continue on.

Day 2 To Berg Lake

The trail to Whitehorn, according to the map, included an approximately 100m elevation gain. What they don’t tell you is you do that 100m a bunch of times! The trail from Whitehorn to Berg Lake includes the very steep 4Km to Emperor Falls – a 500m elevation gain in a short distance. For those who are geocachers in Gold Country this is like doing Red Rock in Lillooet twice – but steeper. There is no water available until you get to the Emperor Falls campsite at the top.

Trail to Emperor Falls

Trail to Emperor Falls

Trail to Berg Lake

Trail to Emperor Falls

Trail to Emperor Falls

Trail to Emperor Falls

With Emperor Falls behind me
With Emperor Falls behind me

I was nervous, but I was on the trail by 5:08 with almost 4 litres of water. It was cooler, but not chilly. I was the only

Emperor Falls

Emperor Falls

one up in the campsite. I started picking my way up the trail, conscious of drinking a bit of water at every switchback. There are three huge waterfalls on the trail as you go through the Valley of a Thousand Waterfalls. I used each of these big falls (White Falls, Falls of the Pool, and Emperor Falls) as a milestone – 1/3 of the way, 2/3 of the way, almost at the top. At each one I enjoyed the view (and the solitude), took off my pack and rested. I got into the Emperor Falls campsite at about 9:00. I can’t believe that what was supposed to be the hardest part of the hike was actually the easiest for me. I had a snack (tuna and crackers – pretty much the only real food I ate on the trip) and kept going. I only used 1.5 litres of water on the climb but I felt great. The rest of the way was spectacular and uneventful. I had my major wildlife sighting… two chipmunks… on the exposed part of the trail. They were very entertaining and I was in a pretty good mood. At one point on this trail I was in a long valley leading into Berg Lake. I looked behind me, and ahead, and I saw nobody. It was awe inspiring to be in the Rockies, away from cars and the internet and bad news and good news – just alone. I stood for quite a while and just enjoyed it.

Trail to Berg Lake
Trail to Berg Lake
Wildlife sighting

Wildlife sighting

poser

poser

My first sight of a glacier

My first sight of a glacier

Berg Lake was amazing. I had never seen glaciers in person before this. I got into the campsite at about 11:30, when a lot of the campers were just heading out. After setting up the tent I spent the day napping, listening to the glaciers calving, watching sheets of ice and snow fall from amazing heights, and just being grateful for everything I have, including my health and my courage. I know a lot of people who would never do this alone, and many who physically couldn’t even if they wanted to.

Berg Lake

Berg Lake

Berg Lake
Berg Lake

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Gratitude… love the ones you’re with like there’s no tomorrow…

more gratitude… more crying.

It was a multi-kleenex day (actually toilet paper).

All night I listened to the glaciers and the birds, songbirds I don’t usually hear and have no idea what they are. The glaciers sound like groaning and thundering voices. The birds were melodic and light. It was like a symphony. I loved it.

Day 3 Home

Had I been more on the ball, or known more when I planned this trip I would have taken an extra day or two. Maybe one to play around on the day hikes at Berg, and two to get back to the parking area. Instead I got up at 4:00 the next morning and was on the trail again by 5:00 – planning to do the entire 21Km back to the car. It’s all downhill, how hard can it be?

Sunrise at Berg Lake

Sunrise at Berg Lake

Sunrise at Berg Lake

Sunrise at Berg Lake

I was worried about going down the Emperor Falls route because I don’t have great balance and footing and I often slide when going downhill. My new Scarpa boots earned their keep on this part of the trail, though. Thanks to them and my walking poles I never slid, I felt very comfortable going down the steep terrain, and even my knees weren’t complaining too much when I got back to Whitehorn at about 10:30. I had a snack (more tuna and crackers), filtered some more water, and set out again for Kinney Lake and then the parking lot.

Oh, hello heat exhaustion! I missed you… for a day! Blech!

By Kinney Lake I was not in great shape and there was a huge group of Czech tourists in the day rest area so I couldn’t really sit in the shade. Not a great move. I had a hat and a cooling cloth and any time I was near water I was dipping both and putting them back on to try and cool down. The last 2 Km was the worst. It took me eight hours to do the 21 Km but I finally made it back to the parking lot. It was hard, but every step reminded me about my two friends – one in the early stages of treatment and one with a devastating diagnosis – this is hard, I had to remind myself, but it could be so much harder. I’m very lucky I could do this, I could take these steps, lucky I could complain about something like heat and the trivial fact that my feet hurt. Everyone should be as lucky as me. The thing that kept me going, though, was the gratitude. I am so grateful that I gave myself this opportunity. I first read this poem by e.e. cummings years ago and it runs through my head when I most need it. I needed it, and heard it a lot on this special trip.

i thank You God for most this amazing

                by e. e. cummings

i thank You God for most this amazing

day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees

and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything

which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,

and this is the sun’s birthday; this is the birth

day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay

great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing

breathing any—lifted from the no

of all nothing—human merely being

doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and

now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

All the way down I knew, I could feel, I was getting closer to my regular life. My tech vacation was over, I was going to be inundated with news, people, and responsibilities. I braced myself, but it made the journey back to the car just a little bit harder.

Finally, I made it back to the parking lot. Every time I’ve done 21Km this year (it’s the distance of a half marathon) there was a medal, cheering crowds, a t-shirt and a box of snacks. This time there was just me and some people who had done the day hike to Kinney. I asked them to take my picture so there’s documented proof I did it. I went to the Robson Visitor Centre and bought myself a t-shirt. I had some poutine (salt and carbs), and then prepared for the drive home. My entire three days I had crystal clear blue skies, which were great for photos but not so great for my health. Sitting in the car I looked back up at Mt. Robson and noticed it was hazy behind a cloud of smoke. I got out just in time. The smoke from local forest fires was moving up the valley. The next day there would be fires in Jasper, meaning more smoke. I can’t believe how lucky I was.

My Berg Lake rock

My Berg Lake rock

Would I do it again?

Yes, but I’d be better prepared. I’d have better fitting equipment and I’d know more about the conditions and how I’d respond to them. I would also arrange to have enough time to go slow and enjoy where I am. I saw people doing the entire hike to Berg Lake in one day. They were moving fast and missing sounds, smells, and sights that were right there. I felt sorry for them. I think it’s good to travel alone, and it’s good to take a vacation from technology. I carried my Spot locator and checked in with it (I can only send, not receive messages) whenever I got to a campsite so my mom, and my friends and family knew I was OK, but that was the only technology I had access to. I did something I really wasn’t sure I could do and I’m proud of myself, and always, I’m grateful I have the capability and gave myself the opportunity. I am hoping to do a solo backpacking trip every year. I think gratitude is like a muscle, you have to work it, keep it in shape, nurture it.

DONE!

DONE! and grateful!

50 Crazy Things in my 50th Year – Thing #8 – Walk above the water

The suspension bridge leading into the Whitehorn campsite

The suspension bridge leading into the Whitehorn campsite

 Bridges

This may seem small when compared to the scale of some of my other crazy things but it’s

A sequence of bridges leading to Berg Lake

A sequence of bridges leading to Berg Lake

important to me and I’m very proud of myself for doing it. While the whole Berg Lake Trail was a challenge for me (blog post to come on that), the suspension bridge leading into the Whitehorn campsite was on my radar as a potential challenge I would need to conquer. My thing is, I like the structures beneath my feet to be firm. I don’t like movement and I don’t like the feeling of having to trust whether or not someone did their job right or that the structure I’m walking on may collapse at any minute. Bridges in general are a bit unnatural to me. I guess I watch too many Indiana Jones-typeIMG_9731 movies – you see a skinny bridge, or a suspension bridge, and you know what comes next. It will collapse, the ends will be cut, or burned, and the whole structure will swing with some poor unsuspecting soul on it. Even large bridges, like the Lions Gate Bridge or the Port Mann Bridge in Vancouver, make me a bit nervous. The sounds change when you’re on a bridge. Things become more focused. I notice I hold my breath until I safely reach the end. It’s not a gripping fear that stops me from going places but I’m definitely aware of all bridges and the fact that they are suspended above great cavernous spaces that I have no control over.

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The Berg Lake trail has a number of bridges that made me nervous. Some were only two pieces of 2X6 stretched over a stream, others were wider. Some had two railings and some only one. All of them made me nervous. The fact that I was carrying a heavy pack didn’t make things easier since my raised centre of gravity made me feel less stable than normal, and I don’t feel stable at the best of times. My ankles wobble on narrow surfaces. I don’t have sure footing, and my heart is pounding so hard I need to rest when I get to the other side. Adding a suspension bridge into the mix made it all the more challenging.

Why is this crazy?

I’ve said before that heights aren’t a problem, and they’re not. But there’s something about bridges that make me very cautious. Where people I know bound effortlessly over them, I pick my way slowly, cautiously, shaking the whole way. Bridges are above nothing. The expanse below is scary and I find them slightly unnatural. Suspension bridges are the worst. Suspension bridges move. They don’t seem to be attached to anything solid. They seem fragile and free thinking – something I don’t like in structures that are supposed to support me. It’s hard to explain why this is crazy. It didn’t make me want to vomit or pass out, but crossing a suspension bridge is definitely not something I have actively sought out… until this year. There will be another one in the fall if all goes well. This is a starter.

Crossing and swinging

As suspension bridges go, this one is probably pretty tame. The sides are chain link fencing, which feels pretty solid. I don’t think the wood pieces you step on are in much danger of falling off and I don’t think the cables holding the bridge are likely to snap…. But… it could happen!

The lack of solid ground felt strange and the fact that the deck of this bridge (not sure what it’s called – the part you

Suspension bridge leading to the Whitehorn campsite

Suspension bridge leading to the Whitehorn campsite

walk on) isn’t even close to level made me very nervous. I think it has about a twenty degree lean which made me question the engineering skills of the person who designed and built it – and that made me question the rest of the structure. We weren’t really high above the water, but the river was moving in rapids and it was hard not to look at it and imagine myself tumbling down into the white foam.

My pack felt heavier. My legs were tired, and didn’t seem to want to bend. Not one part of this was pleasant or effortless. I had a brief thought about taking a picture from the middle of the bridge but my hands were shaking so much I was pretty sure I’d drop the camera so I decided against it. Oddly enough, and this surprised me, the worst part of the bridge was not the part that was suspended, it was the ramps leading up and down. They were narrow, wobbly and I felt I was going to lose my balance on them. Crossing wasn’t as bad as I imagined it would be but I did breathe a sigh of relief when I got to the end. I nearly crawled down the ramp on the other side, though, which was a bit embarrassing since there were people waiting to get on the bridge and only one person was allowed on at a time. I had to do it twice and it wasn’t really any easier the second time, but I had to go across to get home!

Would I do it again?

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SUSPENSION BRIDGE… DONE!

Absolutely (immersion therapy – desensitizing myself to the sensations). I think I’ll be doing another, longer, suspension bridge in October. Pretty sure I won’t have a 40lb pack on my back so that should make the balance a tiny bit easier! Maybe next time I drive into Vancouver I won’t hold my breath going across the Port Mann Bridge… maybe!

50 Crazy Things in my 50th Year – Thing #7 – Embrace Obstacles (plus bonus gift)

5K Foam Fest

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I really thought this crazy thing would be about going over / under / through / up / down obstacles, but it turned out to be a much bigger thing than I expected.

group 2

Here we are at the start.

The 5K Foam Fest is a fun obstacle course race that takes place in different areas of the country. We first heard about it around Christmas, when a group of us were doing the 5K Santa Shuffle fun run for the Salvation Army. This wasn’t one group who have known each other for a long time, it was a bunch of women bringing in their friends to do a Christmas fundraiser. Through the miracle of Facebook, we started seeing ads for this obstacle race and some of us decided to sign up. Then we brought friends in to make the team bigger. A lot of us started as strangers but finished as friends. We started a message thread on Facebook and added people as others heard of what we were going to do. We chose a team name… OOYL (Only Once You Live… ala Yoda) and even managed to organize team shirts (thanks Krista!).

Starting line 2.

Here we are all warm and clean. That’s about to change. Photo by Nathan Froese.

The race was at Silverstar Ski Resort near Vernon and even though it was June and sunny, it was bloody cold – it even snowed the night before.

The idea of the event is you run through foam that’s deeper than you are, and then head out on a trail course where there will be approximately 20 obstacles you’ll have to tackle. Many of these obstacles involve water… actually, probably at least half.

Why was this crazy?

This was crazy for a number of reasons. First, there are the obstacles. I’m not really built for climbing, I didn’t even crawl when I was a baby (extremely sensitive knees!) and I was never really a monkey bar type of kid.

Second, I am an obsessively prepared person. I like to know exactly what I’m getting myself in for well before I show up for anything. For this event, I wasn’t even sure what all the obstacles would be although the promotional videos showed a number of them. I intentionally didn’t think about it. I didn’t look for ropes somewhere to try climbing those net things in secret when nobody was looking. I didn’t set up a mock obstacle course in some remote area so I could master the obstacles in secret. I just parked the obsessive part of my brain that needs to not look foolish and showed up on the day of the event.

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My favourite picture of me. I survived the Lily Pads! Picture taken by Nathan Froese.

Third, and this I didn’t think about ahead of time, I was on a team with a bunch of women – some of whom I didn’t know. This isn’t always a big deal but I work with almost all women, and have for most of my adult life, and sometimes things can get … bitchy or competitive. Hanging with groups of women is not something I normally pursue but I have done it more in the past few years. This turned out to be one of the coolest parts of my experience.

So my running buddy Jody and I showed up at the site, we tracked down our team members, which wasn’t easy given there were roughly 5,000 people competing through the day, and we lined up at the start line. There were 14 of us. It was awesome.

Let the obstacles begin!

fence 1

That bloody fence doesn’t look so hard from here.

When we started four of us wanted to run more so they went off ahead. The rest of us stayed together for most of the course. We went through foam, straight up a mountain, down inflatable slides into pools of freezing foamy mud, and then we got to a fence. I’m thinking it was about 10 feet tall and the horizontal slats were at odd distances from each other. Some of us hopped right over, but others, such as myself, had trouble with the physics of it. I could get up on the bottom rung but I couldn’t get my arm around to pull myself over. A boost from behind from my teammates and I was nearly launched over it. Obstacle complete, and I had my first sense of how amazing this day would be.

water slide dc

We slid down these a lot! There is a pool of foam, ice cold water, and mud at the bottom – best not to hit that part head first.

We continued, more inflatable slides, back down the mountain, to a rope we climbed to pull ourselves up a hill that looked like straw but turned out be ice and snow covered by straw. Then we reached the lily pads. These are the type of mats we used in gym when I was in school. They were lashed together with rope into a long chain that ran almost the length of a really large pond. The idea is you have to run across these to the other side without falling in. Well, plenty of people fell in. Nobody survived with dry feet. I managed to stumble a bit but I made it across and it was a huge amount of fun. I was last in our group and the rest of them were on the other side cheering me on. Hmmm, this team concept might not be so bad. Then we had to crawl across inner tubes that were lashed together over more water – nothing was dry from this point on!

Next we ran up the mountain (other side of the valley) and encountered more obstacles – tires (like football players run through), more sliding, a maze of bungy cord that made me think I was training to rob an elite financial institution, and then crawling through mud below a web of bungy cord so you had to really crawl to make it underneath. There was shale in the mud so my knees, though numb from cold, were screaming! We slid down more slides into wet pools, ran through deep mud pools, and then reached a vertical web of rope that we had to make our way across laterally. Again, I was at the end of the group and I noticed that for a moment, the entire obstacle was covered in women in blue tank tops – my team. It made me feel proud – some weren’t confident on this at all. We heard it was best to grab the vertical parts of the net instead of the horizontal, which was more instinctive. It worked and we all made it through. There was another net that followed, but it was a huge, maybe 30ft, tent-shaped structure that we had to climb over. One of my team was on the other side ahead of me. She stayed in one place, keeping the ropes taut for me, so it was easier to climb over… teamwork!

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Stacy rocking the lily pads.

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These were super hard! Photo by Nathan Froese.

rope 1

You can’t fool us, there’s ice and snow under that hay!

mud 2

This was easily the worst part for me. My knees were screaming! It didn’t help that Krista was flinging mud back at us and hit me in the mouth.

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Grab the vertical parts, not the horizontal ones.

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Here I am coming down the slide at the end with Jody – caught Mid Scream. This is becoming a theme with me. Photo by Nathan Froese.

For all of these obstacles a core group of nine of us stayed together the whole time. The group didn’t move until every one of us completed the obstacle. That made me feel so good. And I’m super proud that despite a diverse collection of fears, none of us skipped an obstacle – we all supported each other and made it through every obstacle!

Two hours after we started (there were bottlenecks at some of the obstacles with long lines) we reached our last obstacle, an enormous inflatable slide that we went down two at a time. I’m not wild about falling / jumping from heights or moving fast. Jody and I did it together. I screamed. I loved it!

Here is the bonus I wasn’t expecting. We were a group that stayed together. Instead of egos there was problem solving. This person has short legs and a fear of heights, how do we get her over this obstacle? And then we made it happen. One of us turned her ankle. We all stopped until she was OK to go on. One for all, all for one!

I have never been so cold, wet and happy all at the same time! Next year we’re opening the team up to our families / partners. Current working team name is… Revenge of the Mud Monsters!

Huge thanks to my teammates – I am so grateful for every single one of them: Jody, Krista, Monica, Tracey, Trisha, Pam, Heidi, Stacy, Christine, Jillian, Diane, Dina, and Terri – while most of us stayed together, those that didn’t were still a huge part of my experience because the experience wasn’t just the weekend, it was the fun months of planning leading up to it!

Also huge thanks to Nathan Froese, who got way better pictures of us than the Foam Fest people did! Many of these pictures came from Nathan, and others came from three disposable waterproof cameras we had on the course with us. We are definitely doing that again next year!

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There we are, at the finish… all vertical and kinda muddy!

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A little foam cleaned us a up a bit! Photo by Nathan Froese.

50 Crazy Things in my 50th Year – Thing #6 – Join the Circus

Trapeze School of New York (Los Angeles)

On a scale of 1 to 10, I have a paralysing fear of jumping and falling that reaches about 11. This has followed me my whole life and it has kept me from participating in a lot of activities with friends and family. It’s not heights that scare me. I’m fine with heights. It’s falling – being out of control, going fast down a hill, that feeling in my stomach of inevitable crashing and doom. Since this year is all about addressing that place where I stop myself from participating – I knew I would have to face this fear. What I actually started searching, though, was how to run away and join the circus. I didn’t know how profound this would be for me.

I started googling different things and came across trapeze. Of course, I could have gone to clown school (whole other set of fears there) but when I saw the Trapeze School of New York, I was intrigued. When I saw they had five locations and one was in Los Angeles, where I would be for the Tinkerbell Half Marathon weekend – I nearly threw up.

The lean

The lean

This is our instructor showing us how it should be done.

This is our instructor showing us how it should be done.

Why is this Crazy?

Duh! – for the obvious reasons.

Plus, I have always had poor grip strength. I avoid carrying bags in my hands. I was never a kid who played on monkey bars. I have loose, sometimes called ‘double jointed’ fingers and thumbs and have determined that my hands were designed for typing, not gripping. Trapeze = hanging from a bar by your hands.

I’ve lost a lot of weight, but I still have a lot more to go. I wasn’t even sure I could hold myself up while swinging (turns out fear handled that pretty quickly!).

My fear of jumping and falling is, in my head, extreme.

I remember when I was about seven, climbing up to the 3 meter board at Brock Pool because all of my friends were jumping off it. I got to the top and let one person, then the next, then the next, through a very long line of people pass me before I finally threw myself off the end. It’s the only time I have ever jumped off the 3 meter board and I was a lifeguard for seven years! I could teach a diving class standing on the deck of the pool!

When I was training to be a lifeguard I remember being at Westsyde Pool and having to learn how to teach a back dive off the 1 meter board. The instructor, now a prominent firefighter, picked me (why????) from the class to demonstrate. I had no choice. I stood on the end, wanting to vomit, and he stood right in front of me. He told me to fall backwards and stretch when he yelled. I couldn’t fall. He had to push me, and I remember reaching for his red sweat shirt before I went down. I missed. Instinctively I must have stretched when he yelled because I didn’t hurt myself. When I got out of the water he told the class to remember what my face looked like, because that’s exactly what a drowning victim will look like. Then he made me do it again. I was 16 at the time. I haven’t done one since.

I love cross country skiing, yet when I’m going down a hill seniors regularly kick snow in my face because my snowplow is so wickedly awesome (meaning excessively controlled, or slow). My friend, Wendy, wanted to put me into immersion therapy to fix this by taking me up to the killer cross country runs at Sun Peaks – the ones you take the chair lift up to, and pushing me when I was at the top. She figured that by the time I stopped screaming I’d be over my fear. In a way, Trapeze School, must have been my version of immersion therapy.

Trapeze School on Santa Monica Pier

My first swing

My first swing after four false starts

The most I can say about my trapeze experience is I would be considered a ‘remedial’ flyer (my word, not theirs). I was in a class with eight other people. Two were very advanced and go regularly, practicing all kinds of tricks. They looked awesome. The rest were first timers like me. One, Keri, a law student, had a gymnastics background and was celebrating her birthday. The other, Monica, has an adventure web series and seems pretty fearless. The others were high school students from Malibu who were also celebrating a birthday.

The most important thing I have to say here is how great the other students and the staff were. I felt totally supported and it was a great feeling to be with these people. The staff were incredible – I can’t stress that enough.

The first thing we were supposed to do was swing out on the bar, hook our knees up, and hang by our knees when the bar was swinging. We were all wearing harnesses and were strapped in any time we weren’t on the ground. You climb up to the platform, which is 23 ft above the ground, and look out over a net below you… and all the tourists who are watching. When it was our turn, there is a person on the top who has a grip on the back of your harness. They won’t let you go until you are in the perfect position. This part is so counter-intuitive – instead of sticking your butt back and leaning forward, you have to lean so far forward it feels like you’re going to fall. You’re holding part of the platform with your left hand and the bar (which is heavier than it looks) with your right hand. Then you give a little jump, and the person holding the back of your harness lets go.

My first swing

swinging and not dead!

swinging and not dead!

It took me four false starts before I could get off the platform and I screamed in terror as I flew. Before I jumped I actually had the feeling of putting my fear away, like in a box. It didn’t go away, but it wasn’t running the show. This is possibly the second scariest thing I’ve ever done in my life and I’ve been upside down in a stunt airplane. I didn’t have to worry about holding on to the bar because you couldn’t have pried my fingers off it. When it came time to let go, you don’t get to pick when. They yell when you are at the far end of the swing facing the sky so you fall on your back. When they yell you have to let go. I screamed again as I fell. Letting go was THE scariest thing I’ve done in my life. Mike Nesbitt, Keri’s partner, had my camera and was so nice about taking pictures for me. He actually caught me mid scream! (best picture ever!)

I remember landing in the net and bursting into tears. My whole body was violently shaking. I crawled to the edge of the net to get down and then I couldn’t stand up because my knees were shaking so much. I think this is where everyone there, students and staff, got a good look at what a drowning victim would look like. I got lots of hugs. Right there I met the criteria for the crazy things and I could have quit and still considered it a success. The best thing I did was get back up there.

The rest of the swings

Others were doing way more advanced things, and by the end of the class some were even being caught by a guy on another trapeze. But I just

Swinging

Swinging

swung on the trapeze about 8 or 9 times (I wasn’t counting). That was truly the most I could do and each time got a little easier. The first was definitely the worst. It never did get really easy. I could have had one more swing but I knew my head had had enough extra activity and my hands were bruised. The class was two hours but it felt like a lot longer. I knew I was done for the day but I also know I’ll be back. Maybe next time I’ll get my knees over the bar!

I have to say I made some awesome new friends that day. Everyone was so supportive of each other and the kindness of strangers was truly amazing and memorable. I need to find a good set of monkey bars because I’m going to start training and I will be back! If you ever get the chance – do it! It is the most amazing experience ever and I only experienced a small part of it! I am proud that I run half marathons, and that I am fit and I’ve lost a lot of weight, but this is probably my biggest fear ever and I am so proud of myself for taking that first jump.

And to answer the question I’ve heard most since I got back…. No! I have no plans to jump out of a perfectly good airplane or off a bridge with a rubber band tied to my leg!

Would I do it again?

Yes! Did I get over my fear? No… but I did chip away at a corner of it.  Monica Ortega, who was in the class with me, has a motto on her

website – You only live once, try everything twice! I’m going to try and follow that this year.

The Scream

The Scream

Still alive

Still alive