Enduring Winter at Trout Creek

                                                  

                                                    

Experiencing Trout Creek socked in by snow and fog is an experience that will leave one speechless.  From the beauty to the pain, these days of winter out at the crag are forever changing my perception.  The climbing is numbingly painful, yet we still keep returning, and somehow we still keep placing our hands in the refrigerator ice boxes that we know as cracks.  I still can't stop laughing hearing our friend Zach Horn state "this is stupid".  Hand warmers don't even feel warm on the coldest of these days.  

Some may ask why then, but we no longer question it; we just keep going out.  The temperatures are low and we humor ourselves feeding the illusion that the sun is about to break through the clouds.  We saw the sun for a short while yesterday.  It was glorious and for a few brief moments we remembered the warm days ahead.

  

Climbing always seems to push me further into myself and out of my old habituations.  I have found that even when I am miserable, suffering and fighting the urge to quit, there is always something to smile about and always time for play.  From snowballs to humiliation, isolation to the comfort of good friends, frozen ground to mudslide declines, good times are had and worth any pain that is inflicted en route.

Thank you Wally Fox for keeping the momentum going.

-Mel                                                                                                                                                           

Steens Mountain Gorges Loop

Devin, City Dog and I headed out to backpack the Steens Mountain Gorges Loop without more thought than simply getting out. What we experienced was nothing short of spectacular. It is a twenty-six mile hike, rated strenuous, and we aimed to do it in 2 days. The Steens Mountain Wilderness has been a place I have long wanted to explore. I am glad I waited until just this moment to undertake this adventure.

From the moment we arrived at Steens Mountain, the magic began. A wild horse crossed our path on the drive in and slowly meandered away glancing at us in calm curiosity. We awoke the following morning and set foot on the trailhead just as the sun came across the land. We started our hike heading into Little Blitzen Gorge. The crisp fall air and warming sun were welcoming measures.

As the sage and cottonwood gave way to aspen groves, we charged on in silence each observing our surroundings. The remnants of summer lingered through the remaining floral bouquets, yet autumn had arrived and the canyons were beginning their preparation for their fall display. I was instantly pleased to be back on the trail.

We kept on pace for the first 8 miles, only to find our trail diminished away. The book stated that it would be cross-country travel from this point and up the canyon headwall. We proceeded on utilizing game trails when available and occasional footpaths. The river started gaining a more steady elevation, and the falls cascading all around were beautiful. I wished for a moment that the day was better for capturing the loveliness, but quickly chuckled at myself and enjoyed it internally.

We entered the basin and stared in awe. The gorges on Steens Mountain are stunning. There was a panhandle running across the valley floor with the river plunging from its headwaters. About this time I looked over to my right and saw a quickly recognized black object. It was an intact obsidian arrowhead. I always treasure these moments when I am blessed to stumble upon such pieces; knowing that you are walking the same land as those that once truly treasured it. One instantly feels more connected to all that surrounds. It was in such great location, I stopped and took a photograph. A gift such as this on this already grand journey…I don’t ever want to forget. We both laughed at how ridiculously beautiful and amazing this trip already was.

After a water rest and route assessment, we chose our line and headed up the canyon headwall. This is where the “strenuous” began. The canyon gains three thousand feet in this short section. We charged forward against the rapid elevation and made it mid-way up. The land steepened more and we proceeded.

About this time we found ourselves actively involved in our travels. I remember looking over at Devin and laughing. Here we were: heavy packs on our backs, a two thousand foot drop below us, climbing, and I mean 3-4 points of contact, these bluffs of rock that were basically just choss. We had spread out a bit from each other for safety. Each time I made it safely up my obstacle, I would look over in pure child bliss. This was great! I felt alive and found myself laughing at how absurd this seamed for a “backpacking” trail.

By the time we made it to the top, we were exhausted. We slowly headed down the road anyways, which must be followed for several miles. We stopped at a wind block and took off our packs. We had already traveled 11 miles, had several more to go, light was fading, we had another headwall to down climb and we were exhausted, but we were laughing. The beauty just couldn’t be beat and we felt grateful to be there. A hunter came along right at this time and gave us each a beer; it was a Keystone Light and the best damn Keystone Light of my life. We thanked him for his random act of kindness and declined his offers to drive us to the next trailhead. He laughed at our journey and offered to drive us to our car too if we wanted. He truly thought we were crazy, but he was a nice man.

With a beer in our bellies at almost 9500 feet, we marched on renewed and ready to get to a site that we could set up our tent. The last few miles down the road were long and we eased the pains by slowly keeping talk. We reached Big Indian Gorge and followed the description to enter the headwall near the saddle between Wildhorse Lake and our Gorge. The sun was beyond the horizon as we began our descent. This headwall was only two thousand feet, but we did not feel secure about proceeding by headlamp. Devin spotted a larger rock bluff with the seemingly only flat spot along this wall. The light was gone, so we set up camp about one third of the way down the wall. Lying down felt like paradise after those 15 miles. Sleep came even faster.

We awoke just before sunrise to a pitter-patter of hail. It was time to get off this wall in case any weather came in. Crawling out of the tent was breathtaking. The light was just sweeping across the sky and everything was aglow. I delightfully took a few shots as Devin began packing our gear. As the sun came upon a range west of us, a small rainbow came into sight. We both took it in and finished our packing. The layers of enchantment were piling up.

Weaving our way down this headwall into the basin of Big Indian Gorge left us scanning the terrain in awestruck wonder. We made our way to Big Indian Creek and finally traversed into the aspen groves. With a hint of sun creeping into the Gorge, we stopped for breakfast and piece of mind. The difficulties were behind us and we simply had 10 miles to go. The warmth of the sun was broken only by drizzling rain with pockets of light dancing in and out everywhere.

This is a moment that I know has laid a foundation for a new chapter for me. I was overwhelmed with beauty. The Steens Mountain Gorges are as beautiful as it gets. There is no higher level of beauty, just different we decided. We were flabbergasted at our surroundings and speechless all the same. This trip was hands down epic.

I think we smiled the whole way down this canyon. We stopped in aspen groves so old and unique listening to their leaves ripple in the breeze. There were grass fields stamped with impressions from the wind. The diversity of plant life in these gorges is truly as impressive as is told. A few final stream crossings and we exited our canyon wonderland.

I will always backpack in the mountains. There is nothing greater than being slowly broken down gazing externally to discover one’s self, as well as life itself. As David Brower once said, “Wilderness holds the answers to questions we do not yet know how to ask”. I believe that backpacking brings us away from the crowds, away from distractions, away from society and opens our hearts to hear those answers.

And yes, we did stop at the hot springs. Our ritual for post-trip recoveries.
-Mel

Gore Experience More Challenge

Sometimes you just have to act on a whim. I followed a link one day that lead me to the Gore Experience More Challenge. What a great inspirational platform Gore was aiming to create with this contest and forum. There were some great entries and I was inspired by reading some of the stories.

A few days later, I found myself wandering back and deciding to just upload a few images. I had never done anything like that before. I had never put an image out where it could be seen by strangers and, worst of all, be voted upon. Oh well, I went for it. I love writing, I love photography, I love adventure and I love sharing stories with others. For me, this contest was more about preparing myself for melding all of these things I love together and working towards a dream. The actual entry was more about getting over the fears of subjecting personal expression outwardly.

I had fully written off any possibility of becoming a finalist; I was satisfied with the big step I'd taken. The morning the finalists were announced, however, I get a phone call from Devin, my partner, telling me that I should check out Gore's site. I was chosen as one of six finalists! I was elated, nervous, excited and speechless all in one. I was flabbergasted that one of my entries had been chosen amongst so many. Devin posted it on Facebook, and sent some emails. I followed suit as well.

The love from the communities around us really came forward. Our friends and family were voting from all around. I feel so blessed to realize the support and community we have. I have no idea how it will pan out; their are some great experiences, stories and causes with the other finalists. I am fortunate to be amongst this group. All I know is that I already won. I put some stuff out there, I conquered a big fear, I was chosen as one of the finalists and I looked around to witness so much support.

I couldn't ask for more and I now know this is just the beginning for me. Any fear that holds us back is worth overcoming. I can never again give my self-imposed limitations power. I am pursuing the things I love. To experience more is what it is all about. So, here is the winning image and writing of that experience:


I love spontaneous adventures. There is something about it that seems to add to an experience. Our friend Wally asked if we wanted to go climbing out at Trout Creek for the weekend, known locally as Trout. I had never been climbing there before, nor had I even been introduced to trad climbing prior to this trip. There has always got to be a first time for each new venture though, and this was an opportunity to seize a new experience. We got off work and headed out to Trout Friday evening, arriving shortly after dark. We arose the next morning and started our hike up to the crag. The approach alone was a decent work out. Reaching the crag, we were warmed up and ready to climb. The basalt columns here are rough and unforgiving, so I was taught how to tape on some “gloves” to better protect my skin. I was excited and reared to give it a try. Each route was a struggle, and I quickly realized that crack climbing involves a little bit of becoming accustomed to the pain and fighting through. It got a little easier as the day went on and technique made some headway. There were a few other groups climbing up there and I got to see some falls on placed gear. Witnessing a decent whipper on a placed piece of gear really solidified the understanding of how important the placement is. Observing others climbing trad laid a foundation for me to want to explore it further. I reached a point where my mental strength started slipping for the day from the enduring discomfort. Fortunately, the sun quickly dipped below the cascade peaks to the west, and we made our way back to camp exhausted. Waking up the next day was the true initiation. Despite prior sport climbing experience, I was worked. My hands were cut, scraped and swollen. My body ached in muscles previously not engaged while climbing. I reluctantly went back up to the crag, internally persistent to climb more. We got in a few more routes before heading home. I was grateful to have found the strength to carry on, even if it was just a few routes. I fought harder in these few climbs to move only inches up at a time than I have ever before. This weekend of climbing was one of the hardest I had undergone, and I would say it still holds that title. I was battered and bruised from relentlessly popping out of the cracks. My hands and fingertips were raw, unlike anything I have ever experienced, but I was enthralled by the fact that I could push on. I have since begun to climb some trad, placing gear myself. I really was inspired by this first experience. Placing gear on easy routes is where I have started, and as my skills progress and the emotional training coincides, I hope to open some additional doors in pursuit of my passion for climbing. My goal is to make it back out to Trout and put up some of these classic Oregon routes myself someday. I have found there are sacrifices we all make in our personal lives to experience more, and often it is as simple as giving up our rest days to create these moments. I cannot envision living any other way. Experiencing more to me is living life like life is in itself one’s art. It is not just about the monumental adventures; it is pushing the envelope in every day life to expand one’s horizons. I also believe there is no quantifiable way of measuring any particular experience. It is the very practice of experiencing life, experiencing more and pursuing one's passions as often as possible. There is no mold of how we must live, and that is what makes each breath worth it. The way I see it, we each get a blank canvas to spread our strokes across, and I want to fully enjoy painting the story of my life.

Oregon Hot Springs

Every now and then one must sneak away and let go. One of our favorite escapes...hot springs!