The End of Ice Season

Every winter I have grand intentions of filling my basement with cases of Sam Adams Winter Lager to carry me through the long months when my favorite beer disappears from the shelves. Alas, these plans have never come to fruition, but maybe its better this way. My failure to carry out this plan leaves me with seven or eight months filled with anticipation, and that savored first cold sip when I spot it on tap in the late fall.

So it is with Ice season. It’s the allusive nature of this time of year that makes it so good in the first place. Rock climbing always seems to have its possibilities. On a freezing day I could always boulder, or if I was really desperate go to the gym, but Ice is a different story. Different year to year season to season, its that mix of temperatures weather patters ground water, and (in the case of this season) how far along I’ve come on home renovations that will determine the number of climbing days and whether there will be anything worth climbing in the first place. Maybe I’ll get out twenty days this season and that rare line will be in this year! Or, maybe it will be much less, but the few thwaks I do get to hear will be worth the wait.

The anticipation for ice season begins the day I hang up my axes and remove the ice screw clippers from my harness. Sure, I’ve got some goals on the rock to get through before I strap on my crampons again, but that same line will be there without any change next year if I don’t get around to it. Late May and early June hold great rock weather, but their real significance lies in the fact that there are now only six months until the start of Ice season. By the fourth of July I’m on the downhill slope.

And then it’s October. The first chilly days arrive and I start to check the weather forecasts. Weather.com reenters my favorites list and I wait for the day when someone reports that Pinnacle Gulley has fallen to its first early season half ice, half waterfall ascent. I begin making long drives to the closest location that “might” have ice with a my truck loaded with gear I know I want need only to see less ice than I find on my gutters in the morning. But give it a few weeks, and the game is on.

Today was the day I hung up my axes and took the clippers off my harness. Well, I left the axes a little more accessible this year to enable my hopes of “training” on holds at home during the off season. But the short of it is another Ice season is over way to quickly. It’s been a good one though. I didn’t come close to my twenty day mark, but I lead some harder stuff than last season and I’ll rest easy with this year’s accomplishments. The good news is there’s only eight, maybe eight and a half months until the start of the next season.

I used to hate winter. I’ve never really gotten into skiing, so it’s always been a season to endure with deep cold and early darkness that has simply gotten in the way of my other pursuits. But it has become my most anticipated season of year offering the chance of a fresh angle on our coveted pursuit of climbing, and a few really good beers. Ice season came and went quickly this year, but my dreams for next season lead me to believe that, maybe, its better this way.

Fall

The finer things of fall, perfect climbing weather.

Katrina - Four Years Later

Fall is in the air again and with the arrival of September comes the annual anniversary of the most important time in my life, the three months I spent on the Gulf Coast after Hurricane Katrina struck on August 29th, 2005. I'm reminded of it constantly. Weather Channel shows, documentaries, and stories in print constantly retell those fateful hours. I usually just watch and smile to myself, knowing that those around me could never understand the impact that storm had on my life if I were to mention it. Because for me, everything reminds me of Katrina. There are too many stories to share the meaning of so many simple memories, but any late fall evening, high school football game, cross, smell of gasoline or song in my "Katrina" play list brings me back to southern Mississippi or eastern Louisiana.

Katrina woke me up. For all intents and purposes I was born on September 11th, 2005, the day I arrived in Mississippi. The days that followed challenged me and broadened my life in ways I never imagined possible as I grew to understand suffering, service, and the true joy of following Christ in the face of adversity. There is not a day that goes by that i don't think of someone I worked with or for on the gulf coast; where they are now, how they're doing, and how they themselves have recovered. I have lost track of most, and like all periods of life this is probably inevitable and perhaps for the best. But my heart will forever find it roots in the downed trees of Mississippi and the flooded remains of New Orleans.

I have traveled back to the area several times over these past four years. Its good to see the progress and travel the roads again, but like all experiences, its never the same. Everyone has periods of life that are simply magical, and while I hate that this period for me came at the cost of much suffering, it was a once in a lifetime mix of trial, triumph, and growth in the presence of the most influential people I have ever met. I'll never be able to recapture that, but the effects of that period will reverberate through me forever.

I posted the above pictures intentionally. They are not pictures of destruction, but of endurance. That cross stood beside the remains of towering buildings brought to their knees by a thirty foot storm surge, and yet remained unscathed. That family stood beside the remains of their flooded home, having lost everything, but filled with joy. Hope in the cross, and you will never be shaken.

If you're reading this and you happen to be one of those special people who I encountered on the gulf who radically altered the course of my existence for the better, I thank you. I'll be thinking about you...

RIP Charleston 9

Today is the two year aniversary of the Sofa Superstore fire in Charleston, SC. The fire killed nine firemen, the largest single incident loss of life since 9/11. RIP brothers. Here is the link to the report about the fire. http://firehouse.com/firereport_051508.pdf

Writer

The other day over excessively priced beer and bowl of French Onion Soup, I asked a friend of mine what his brother was up to. He replied that his brother was writing.

I'm jealous. I feel as I've heard the phrase, "Oh, he's taking some time off to write" several times in my life, and I've always wondered what that would look like for me.

I want to take some time off, move to a one room bungalow on the coast of a Spanish Island, you know, the ones with only a hanging sheet for a door. I want to emerge each sunny morning wearing sandals and a loose shirt buttoned up only half way...

And write.

Post-Galveston

Thanks for the support as I traveled to Galveston last weekend in the wake of Hurricane Ike. It was a tough trip, primarily because I came down with the worst stomach virus of my life the first night there that ended me up in the hospital shortly after I landed home in Philly. That said, Galveston was heavily damaged, at least 60% of the city was flooded, maybe more, with many buildings right on the coast suffering structural damage or collapse. It appears, however, that a great deal of work is underway, most of the gutting has been completed and folks appear ready to rebuild. Galveston will be back. Thanks again for your support.

Hurricane Ike Texas Trip

Tomorrow I am headed to Galveston Texas to do a post Hurricane Ike disaster assessment for the Presbyterian Church in America. Hopefully this trip will yield many ministry possibilities and pave the way for volunteer response teams from across the country to come and work. Please keep my team and our productivity in your prayers.