I took some more steps on my path today. Do you believe that we have a path, a particular destiny laid out for us? I do. I know it because I have felt it, I have been in it before, and when you are truly in the right place at the right time, everything feels good, it just clicks, it all falls into place.
Today I climbed the hardest rock route I have ever done. It was at McKinley Rock, near Glide, Oregon. The route is called Hang Ten, it is three pitches long, about three hundred and fifty feet high, rated at 5.10a. I wasn't able to free the 5.10a overhang, but the rest, at 5.8 or 5.9 I felt really solid on.
The day began with a mile long hike, quite pleasant in it's own right, to the base of the rock. We quickly got on our gear and got ready. Harold would lead, with Andrew (who, like me, had never climbed a multi-pitch climb before) belaying, followed by myself and then Greg. It was obvious that the first ten feet was going to be a crux in it's own right, being that it was mossy and damp. Harold slipped and slided (we all did) on the easy first few feet, but once he got up ten or fifteen feet, the rock dried out and he quickly reached the first belay station.
Once Harold had his belay station set up and was on belay, Andrew started up. It was a struggle for him getting past the first few cruxes, but he persevered and made it up to the belay station. Now, this had taken quite a while, the first two climbers and I was getting antsy to go, wondering if I had what it took, maybe I wasn't ready, but once it was my turn I knew I had to at least try. So I laced up my climbing shoes, roped up and started climbing.
Now, I really hadn't eaten breakfast, in fact, all I had eaten was a couple of bites of chocolate bunt cake and most of a praline bar, plus sixteen ounces of coffee. Breakfast of champions.
So I struggled at first, not really realizing how coarse this dacite was, not really trusting my feet, but once I got past the first crux, I was on my way. I had momentarily thought about giving up, but I had pushed through it and once I did I pretty much scooted on up the first pitch. It was awesome. The rock is really rough and very solid, and there always seems to be handholds whenever you need them. I joined Harold and Andrew a hundred and thirty so odd feet above the deck, clipped into the bolt with my daisy chain and I was off the rope. Harold belayed Greg up the pitch and we when he arrived we were a cozy foursome on some huge rock in the forest.
At this point Andrew had decided he had had enough, his stomach had been bothering him earlier and the stress of climbing such a steep, huge rock was making him not want to get into a bad situation. It's a hard decision to make, but we have all had to do it. Plus Harold's back wasn't enjoying the hanging belay, so they headed down while Greg and I continued on.
Once more, I had the thought of quitting, the roof looked really intimidating, but I really wanted to just keep going, keep trying, just see if I could do it. Greg made quick work of the pitch until the roof was reached, and he struggled through his first attempt, but on the second try, he made it through. I was thoroughly impressed. The belay station is just on the edge of that lip, and I was really wondering how I would get through. Greg had said that if I couldn't do it, he would lower some webbing and I could aid through it (using something other than the rock to ascend).
I started up, and the climbing for the most part wasn't too difficult, 5.8 to 5.9 for the majority of the route and those sections for the most part I breezed on up, and this pitch was no different until I reached the roof. I got the quickdraws unlatched, then lowered a few feet to make the attempt. It was really tough. I tried a few times but my arms were so spent already that there was no way I was going to be able to get over it (yet). So Greg lowered the webbing and I tried to pull myself up but I was having a hard time with that too, and I was really feeling like I couldn't do it, but Greg kept encouraging me and eventually I got over the lip. The worst was over. One last pitch to the summit.
Greg headed up and this last pitch went really quickly. Now, on a much wider belay ledge, I could comfortably stand. I took occasional views of the forest and mountain topography around me, I could see the base of Diamond Peak under the clouds. I looked down, it was way down there, but I felt fine, pretty damned comfortable in fact. I was in my place.
Soon it was my turn to climb and I made my way quickly to the top, pulling quickdraws along the way. It got a little gravelly on the last pitch, but it was good, if small, hand-and-foot-holds all the way up to the top. I joined Greg and ripped my shoes off for a few minutes, then joined him on the true summit, then signed the register (apparently we are the first people to climb it in nearly a year).
Greg set up the rappel anchors, explained where I needed to go and what I needed to do at the next rap station. I started down. Now, don't get me wrong, I love rappelling and all but I still find it somewhat unnerving. And heading down this steep face on my own was pretty intense as well, I mean, it really was no big deal, I just had to find the anchors, connect my daisy chain to a bolt-hanger, make sure I was secure, then disconnect from the ropes and yell up at Greg that I was 'off rappel'. A few minutes later he joined me, set up our next rap station, and I was on my way down for the last time. But this was my first 'free-hanging' rappel (when you are no longer in contact with the rock), and when my feet lost contact with the rock I flailed a little, then reminded myself that I was ok and I just had to keep lowering. So I kept lowering until I could touch the rock again and soon I was on solid ground with a whoop and a holler. I was so happy to have done it, to have completed the route and come back down again safely. I untied from the rope, yelled up at Greg and then hustled down to take off the instruments of death on my feet. Soon Greg was down too and we wasted little time, packing and stowing gear. A few minutes later we were off, headed down the trail to the truck, and the long ride back to town.
I am on my path.

The Way

What is the meaning of our existence? I have often pondered why the hell I am here, why I have been put on this earth to be so screwed up and fail so often? For twelve years I sifted through the cracks in public school - 'he's just not applying himself' 'He's not trying hard enough, he's lazy, he's unfocused' For twelve years of school I heard this, and yet I always managed to place in the upper five to ten percent of the nation in general knowledge. I was creative, I wrote a 'sequel' to An American Werewolf In London when I was ten (a short story. Incidentally, I was in trouble with my teacher and had to sit outside the classroom while my story was read. Classmates later told me that everyone clapped really hard at the end of it.). Yet I would continually get D's and F's, all the way to halfway through my senior year when I finally had enough and dropped out. I wouldn't have graduated anyway. The crazy thing is - I skipped exactly one day of school my entire twelve years (fake sick days not counting). Yet no one noticed that anything might be amiss, no one helped me, there was little or no guidance from anyone around me - and I needed it. Badly. Now, I know, Aspergers wasn't even an official condition until 1996 (maybe '94), so there was no way for anyone to help me anyway. Man, I really needed help.
However, having gone through all of this, and come out ok on the other end, I am glad that I am who I am, I have become a strong person, I have found understanding and awareness in ways that I never knew existed, and for that I thank them: The teachers, parents, brothers, sisters, all of those who turned away when I clearly needed help.
But now, having discovered that I very well may have Aspergers Syndrome is making this whole past unlock. If this is true, and I think it is quite likely that it is, then there is a pretty good explanation for all my weirdness and incongruities. I look so normal, but really, I am such a freak. Spend five minutes with me and you will see it clearly. The way I walk and talk, the sound of my voice, the way I reluctantly make eye contact (I have learned how to do so for a little bit, but once I start talking, I will hardly look at a person at all.), the way I wax rhapsodic about mountains, roman history, interesting data, on and on and on I go. I try to be a little more conscious about it now, stop myself, take a breath. In fact, I often tell people the first time I spend any time with them that "I'm sorry, I talk a lot, I can't really seem to help it, I interrupt, but I really don't mean to be rude." In fact, I try to at least stop myself now mid-interrupt. I know people don't like it so I at least try to apologize and cease blurting. The point of all this is - I am odd, but I don't have to feel bad about it anymore. It's so freaking obvious that I am an Aspie, to me and to my girlfriend.
So this whole thing began with why am I here, what is my purpose? Well, I may not know the ultimate quest yet, though I do suspect it involves mountains and the ascent of those peaks, I do know that right now is a time for me to recall my past and understand, all those times I felt ashamed or embarrassed, out of place or completely isolated and misunderstood, lonely beyond reach, smart but not in the way the schools wanted me to be, they were all because of a different type of wiring in the brain. And I am not alone. There are so many of us out there, doing great things, inventing, philosophizing, engineering, building. Aspergers is not a curse, not if you can use it to your advantage and find what works for the individual.
These blogs, I think, are really an inherent part of my aspie-ness. It feels so good to just write and pour my guts out on the page, because that is what I like to do. When I type, especially, I can write alot, my fingers can keep better pace with my thoughts. So I thank you, whoever you are, reading this, coming upon it, probably stumbling onto it, my semi-coherent ramblings of a mountain, rock and Ice-climbing fool, an Ass-Burger. I have it within me to do great things. I have it within me to fail spectacularly. I believe. It is up to me.

I wish I cold understand myself and my life, my failures, my inability to do things that others take for granted, for example, being social in a group setting, like parties, concerts, etc. Also, things like getting bills paid on time, going to school and being able to pass classes. For a long time I did not understand why I struggled so terribly with some things and yet could be an intelligent, thoughtful, creative person. Now I think I know the answer: Aspergers Syndrome.
I'm not even sure how I came across Aspergers, where I first learned of it, but once I started reading about it and hearing others accounts of their struggles, it quickly became apparent that I shared many of the same traits. However, when I asked a friend to give me her thoughts on Aspergers and myself, she said I was just being paranoid.
Still, I knew myself well enough to see that I had at least 90% of the profile traits. And when I talked to others who knew me much better, they were flabbergasted. It's funny, at one point I was talking to my niece about this and told her "I have never found anything that so perfectly described my weirdness." Later that day, I read a passage from Tony Attwoods book on Aspergers that basically quoted one of his patients saying verbatim the same sentence. I had to laugh.
About a week ago I took a couple of on-line tests, one an 'Adult' version of the Australian test Tony Attwood devised, and a second one designed by Aspies themselves. These are the results: On the Australian test, I scored a 4.5 out of six, with a score higher than two being a likelihood of having Aspergers. And when I took the 'aspie-quiz', I scored a 155 out of 200 for Aspergers traits. I was surprised to say the least, I thought I would have scored lower on the scale, but I guess not. So I talked to my doctor and we have arranged for me to take the 'official' tests in a few weeks.
I am pretty nervous about this. It's strange to want to get this diagnosis, but after struggling for so long, feeling so isolated and alone and misunderstood, yet having a keen intellect and grasp of most things cerebral, I feel like I have finally discovered what my struggles stem from. Yet I have had such horrid luck with doctors my whole life, and I am so afraid to be told 'nope, your wrong, this ain't it.' I want to figure out what my issue is, I want to go back to school and not fail this time, I want to get my life together, be able to pay bills and not be so socially isolated anymore.
At the same time, believing that this is it, that this is the root source of my struggles, has allowed me to let go of a whole host of negative feelings I had towards myself. I blamed myself for everything, from my money-management issues to my social inadequacy, I just ripped myself down more and more. My self-esteem at times has been abominable. But now I am beginning to understand why I have a hard time with some stuff. My ex once said to me that we were on such different levels intellectually (meaning I was generally alot smarter than she was), but that I was somehow 'stuck' and she could not understand it. Me neither, but now I do. I hope I can get some help with this, be able to go back to school in the fall (I am returning to school one way or another, but regardless of this diagnosis, I will need help finding a different way to succeed as a student) and move forward in my life to achieve the quality of life I desire.
Luckily for me, I have discovered climbing. It focuses me in ways I have never been focused before, and it clearly has staying power, considering I have been climbing for ten years now. Knowing that I am an 'aspie' allows me to let go of any guilt I have about being obsessed with such a self-centered pointless pursuit (pointless for others anyway). It's just the way I am. Some aspies get obsessed with Singer sewing-machines or batteries, so at least I have a healthy passion that gets me exercise and fresh air, not to mention that I am pretty good at it, so for the first time in my life I know what success is. Thanks to climbing, I know what it means to be patient, to work hard for something, and how to finish the job. Rarely do I turn back on a mountain. I have summited 55 mountains in ten years, while probably failing to complete a climb less than ten times, so those are pretty good percentages.
Even luckier for me, the local college, UCC, has an outstanding outdoor recreation program, and I am already helping out on the beginning rock class. So I have a path laid out for me, it's just a matter of staying focused and committed. I'm lucky in that sense that I have found something I love so much and that I feel so at ease with. When I am in the mountains or at the crags, I am in my element. I feel comfortable, even if I am very much aware of the danger around me. It's almost like I need that powerful threat to get me to focus, and when I do, I am pure bliss. The 'little' me falls away when I climb, and something much larger and more powerful takes over. I am focused, but not in any sort of conscious, thinking way.
The only thing I can compare it too is the martial arts. When I was younger, my obsession was being a martial-artist and I studied Tae Kwon Do for six years, achieving the rank of second-degree brown belt (but, as I was prone to do when I was younger, quit less than a year from when I probably would have gotten my black belt.). When I would spar, if I did well, and won all my matches like I normally did, I would enter a state of non-thought, I was operating 'in the zone' as they say in sports, and the most incredible feeling of bliss would take over and I could defeat everyone I fought (which was mostly the black belts in class). However, when I couldn't get into that place, when I was thinking too much and didn't fight as well as I knew could (even if I won), I would get a really uncomfortable feeling, like I had let myself down, and I would often have a hard time going to sleep that night.
Even with writing, if I can really get going, I lose my thinking self and I feel so happy and I can write for hours without a break. Those are the sorts of things I crave, when I do stuff like that I am no longer an aspie or even a person, I feel so much larger than my normal self. The whole point of this is that I have truly found my calling in climbing. Even an easier mountain you just have to fall into some sort of rhythm, one step after another, forgetting about all that you may have had on your mind, until, after many hours, you achieve your goal, you stand atop some fantastic peak, feeling proud, exhausted and happy. That's what I want to do, over and over again, until gravity or old age makes it impossible to do it any longer.
In Tony Attwood's book on Aspergers, he says that sometime people with Aspergers are really good at endurance because they can take suffering and discomfort better than alot of NT's (Neuro-typicals). I certainly discovered that to be true, at least as I have gotten older. When I was younger, I would just give up on stuff when it got too difficult, but now I persevere. As Mark Twight, one of the world's great alpinists says "sometimes fun isn't fun." I find this to be true for climbing. It's painful, it's uncomfortable, there is no 'good' reason to do it, but ultimately, it is the most rewarding thing I have ever done. Mountaineering is the art of suffering.
The path is there. I am on it. In a few weeks, I will have put together, one way or another, a piece in the puzzle. I am beginning to understand.

Climbing, aspergers, and trying to achieve ones dreams

Mountains have saved my life. I don't know where I would be without mountaineering. From the first moment I got within reach of a mountains summit (Mt Thielsen, sept. 1998), I was so utterly hooked. That first pitch of real, life-or-death solo climbing etched a cause and a way for me. Being forced to focus (not an easy thing for me) - handhold...here, foot goes...there, everything solid, yes? Solid, move up, one foot, one hand at a time, putting a puzzle together, but YOU are not there, you just are, no problems, no difficulties, just you, alone, on the mountain. And then you find that have reached the precipitous summit, two thousand foot drop there, thousand footer over here. Plus that eighty feet you just climbed up.
Needless to say, I made it off that mountain with a high that lasted for a week, at least. I had gotten a taste of something grand, something bigger than myself, and I wanted to taste it again. Being that it was late September, I didn't get another opportunity to make any other ascents that year. But all winter, I obsessed and started buying climbing equipment and getting guide-books and books on technique, my dreams at night were often scenes in the mountains (and they still are).
The next year I ended up climbing some smaller, tune-up mountains, namely Black Crater (7,251')the Belknap Craters (6,872' and 6,305'), Wolf Rock (the largest monolith in Oregon, see photo above).
Later in summer I decided to go for my first solo climb, of South Sister, third highest mountain in Oregon(10,358'). The picture to the left shows South Sister from Broken Top. I made the climb from Devils Lake, after spending a chilly night without a sleeping bag in my car. There were a fair amount of people on the trail, I passed a few but generally just maintained a moderate pace, breaking out of treeline and onto the beautiful mesa that leads to the base of the mountain itself. It was a beautiful, but tough ascent for me, taking five and a half hours to hike the five and a half miles and nearly five thousand feet of elevation gain, but once more, a deep calling was etched into my soul. On that day, an exceptionally clear one, you could see to Mt. Rainier, 200 miles away.
It ended up being a good year for me, climbing Mt Mclaughlin, Mt Lassen, Diamond Peak and Mt. Bailey. Now I was definitely hooked, there was no turning back.
In that time, coming on ten years now, I have climbed the majority of the Cascade peaks - Lassen, Shasta, Mclaughlin (3 times), Venus-Jupiter-Lucifer-Devils-Lee peaks all in one push (Sky Lakes Wilderness), Bailey(twice), Thielsen(four times), Tipsoo Peak, Sawtooth Peak, Cowhorn Mtn, Union Peak, Diamond Peak (8 times), The Twins (twice), Wolf Rock (a bunch), South Sister (twice), Broken Top (twice), The Husband, North Sister, Three-Fingered Jack, Mt Hood, Mt St. Helens, Mt Adams, Mt Shuksan (in the north cascades, the picture on the right), plus Sacajawea Peak, Peak 9774 and The Matterhorn in the Wallowas of north east Oregon.
It has been an amazing ride, but now, I want even more. I quit my job In Eugene last year for the express purpose of climbing more, since I had slowed down considerably in the previous two years. I responded by climbing ten mountains last summer, including five in a single push and setting my personal best on Thielsen (2:45 to the summit, 5:05 total car to car). So far this year it hasn't really happened for me yet, my truck needs work and we have been generally broke for most of the year, but I helped teach a beginning rock course through the local community college last weekend and the next day climbed a little mountain (Mt. June) with my girlfriend and our new family. Right now, I feel like I have to get my foundation back under me, get my truck up and running, but more than anything, figure this whole Aspergers thing out.
In a month I am going to get tested to see if I am truly an Aspie. For the uninitiated, Aspergers is a type of Spectrum Autism, High-functioning autism primarily characterized by severe social impairment, lack of eye contact, and the fixation on one or two particular subjects to the exclusion of all else. For me it is Mountains and Mountaineering, and Roman History. Lately, rocks and gems and fossils and the idea of rockhounding have been appealing to me. In any case, it has only recently come to my attention about what Aspergers is and when I began to read about it, it was like a light went off. Pop! It was like reading about myself, so much of it, the obsessive quirks, the inability to take social cues or maintain eye contact, the obsessiveness, not to mention the horrible social fear. I hate being in groups of people, it's just gotten worse as I have gotten older, I mean, when I'm in my place - in the mountains, at the crags, at my house or where I work, I am fine, I can interact in my odd own way, but if I have to go to a party or a bar or a concert, I'm terrified. Get me to walk out on snowbridges over eighty foot deep crevasses, I'm fine.
So yeah, a few weeks and I will know for certain, one way or another, and I can move forward. But in the mean time, I'm ready to go climbing.
Hopefully I will have my truck up and running in the next month and I can get ready to start. I am taking July 17th-27th off, my first vacation in years, and my goal right now is to climb Rainier, Baker and Shuksan in nine days. Hopefully I can also climb Washington and Middle Sister here in Oregon and then I will have only Jefferson and Glacier Peak left off my resume. I could be happy with a year like that. Of course, I could be happier if I also interspersed that schedule with easier climbs with my daughter and my family and more rock climbing at our excellent crags, the Callahans. Now that would be a good year.

A time of anniversaries

Three years ago, on June 2nd, my uncle Jorge passed away in his sleep. The next year, my father, after a lengthy illness, passed away on June 1st. Last year on May 31st, my friend Tracy died three weeks after discovering she had cancer. To say that it was rough couple of years would be an understatement.
However, since that time my life has changed dramatically for the better. Shortly after Tracy died, I left my long-time, well-paying job, my community of friends and acquaintances, and took a big leap into the unknown by moving away from Eugene and back down to Roseburg (both in Oregon) to start my life all over. It was a scary move, leaving all of that behind to move, at age 36, back in with my Mom.
I needed to get the hell away from all the pain and chaos that Eugene had come to represent in my life, needed to move away from city life to return to the country and small-town life. All I really wanted at that point was to sit by the creek on my Mom's property and decompress for awhile. But it was scary as hell taking that leap. What would I do for a job? Would I return to climbing more regularly? A major part of wanting to move was to start mountaineering and rock-climbing more regularly, something that had slipped away from me with all my various responsibilities as Manager of Sweet Life, as my daughters full-time Dad.
As it turns out now, nearly one year from moving, it was one of the best moves of my life. I got a job my first day back in town, back at While-Away books, the job I had had before I had moved to Eugene (this is in a town whose unemployment rate is close to double that of the national average). I climbed Mt Thielsen (my very first ascent) a week after coming to town, and ended up climbing ten mountains that summer. Ten days after my last ascent of the season, I had my first date with Brook, a co-worker from the bookstore. It was September 26th, a full-moon night, and needless to say, our date went very well and we now live together and will celebrate eight months together tomorrow.
And now I am an assistant rock-climbing instructor at the local community college, and will be enrolling in the outdoor program at the same college in the fall. I know what I want to do - teach climbing and outdoor skills. It's all coming together.
I decided to write about all this because it is coming up on those infamous anniversaries I mentioned earlier, and, well, it's just really on my mind right now. I am really glad I made the decision. Sometime you just have to take that leap of faith.