Many aspects of my lifestyle have changed since Rohan arrived. There are big changes and small changes, but somehow it is the small changes that make the biggest impact on my fragile but inflated ego. Big changes - like driving around BC more, or climbing big cliffs - are neat, but the subtle things are more likely to change the way you think about yourself or the world.
For example, before Rohan arrived, I showered roughly weekly and lived in a van - a situation to which I was accustomed and with which I was comfortable. After Rohan arrived, I showered roughly weekly and lived in a van, but now with added self consciousness.
But the most depressing part of traveling with Rohan is my mobile phone. Under normal circumstances, when I own a phone it is more of a gesture than a necessity. I own the phone so that I can write its number on resumes or application forms. It is one of the trappings of modern life and, as a token participant in the modern world, I partake in the social ritual of phone ownership.
God forbid that anyone might try to call me on the phone. That would be unseemly and would probably be a most unpleasant surprise. In Canada, where call charges make text messaging the preferred method of communication, I have received a few messages, mostly from people waiting for me at the bottom of a ski run who are worried that I have run into a tree and died. Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately) I have never had such an excuse, I am simply slow.
But since Rohan's arrival, the phone has been working overtime. I have given up on keeping track of the phone, preferring to leave it to him to manage the barrage of incoming and outgoing messages. It is tragically unsurprising that after roughly eight months here, my friend who hasn't been here for several years not only knows more people than I do, but those people are in more places than the people I know and they actually want to talk to him.
It turns out that Rohan knowing people is pretty fantastic, because we can meet those people and stay with them. Plus, chasing old friends around is a good option for filling in the times when the weather is crap and we can't climb, which is proving to be more frequent than we had hoped. And sometimes those friends are friends with pretty amazing people, and you get to go climbing with them, and that's pretty rad as well.
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Thursday, June 21, 2012
The Dynamic Duo
OK, this has to be quick, because I'm running out of batteries and Rohan is cooking dinner etc. etc.
Rohan got here a week and a day ago. Since then, it has rained a whole lot. We went to Squamish, where people explained that it was still Spring and that it was raining a lot. Despite the rain, we got a solid day's climbing in (plus a few bits a pieces on other days), before engaging in some time wasting to wait for more good weather. Generally, the climbing was wet.
The weather improved yesterday which gave us a chance to climb Yak Peak, an enormous granite face just off the Trans-Canada Highway. Yak Peak was also pretty wet in places, but on the whole the climbing was great. It was a little weird to climb hundreds of metres off the ground and still hear the trucks rolling by on the highway, but I guess that's the price of convenient climbing.
We got another day of good weather today, which we celebrated by having the van break down on the highway. We've limped into Kelowna and will try to get it seen to tomorrow. At this stage, the plan is to remove some parts to convert it from four-wheel-drive to two-wheel-drive. Hopefully that will get us to the Bugaboos and back without dying. The Bugaboos might be covered in snow, and even if they're not it will probably rain, but we're still planning on going there.
OK, gotta go contribute to the great mushroom risotto thing that we're going to eat tonight. I'll try to write something more interesting soon.
Rohan got here a week and a day ago. Since then, it has rained a whole lot. We went to Squamish, where people explained that it was still Spring and that it was raining a lot. Despite the rain, we got a solid day's climbing in (plus a few bits a pieces on other days), before engaging in some time wasting to wait for more good weather. Generally, the climbing was wet.
The weather improved yesterday which gave us a chance to climb Yak Peak, an enormous granite face just off the Trans-Canada Highway. Yak Peak was also pretty wet in places, but on the whole the climbing was great. It was a little weird to climb hundreds of metres off the ground and still hear the trucks rolling by on the highway, but I guess that's the price of convenient climbing.
We got another day of good weather today, which we celebrated by having the van break down on the highway. We've limped into Kelowna and will try to get it seen to tomorrow. At this stage, the plan is to remove some parts to convert it from four-wheel-drive to two-wheel-drive. Hopefully that will get us to the Bugaboos and back without dying. The Bugaboos might be covered in snow, and even if they're not it will probably rain, but we're still planning on going there.
OK, gotta go contribute to the great mushroom risotto thing that we're going to eat tonight. I'll try to write something more interesting soon.
Monday, June 11, 2012
Extreme Parasitism
A tick that has found its way onto your body can take days to actually find a suitable site and bite you. Obviously, while they're crawling around they're easy to remove and do no real harm. The only time they become a problem is when they're lodged in place.
The same is true for climbing parasites like me. If I latch on to a group at a crag, I'm usually only with them for a few hours and it's easy enough for them to get rid of me and go their own way. But recently, I have reached new levels of parasitism. I have latched onto a host and am currently writing this post on their enormous computer IN THEIR APARTMENT.
I should be clear, describing this as an act of parasitism suggests that I'm somehow responsible for the pretty sweet situation I find myself in, but in fact this is all the doing of my most generous and benevolent host, Ward. I met Ward in the car park at the crag and climbed with him and another friend for the day. I had spent five days at the Skaha Bluffs trying unsuccessfully to bum rope and soloing easy climbs, so getting a chance to climb with other people in relative safety was most welcome. I ended up carrying a bunch of Ward's climbing equipment back to the cars at the end of the day and, since we were both tired and pretty chuffed about they day's exploits, I completely forgot to give it back to him.
Later that night I realised my mistake and contacted Ward to explain. He had also completely forgotten, and was near Walmart at the time, so he dropped by to collect his stuff. In the process, he noticed the slightly squalid conditions I was living in and offered me a room at his place if I wanted to get out of the van for a while. The next day the weather crapped out and I took him up.
Since then, Ward has been an incredibly warm host. I've been staying with him for a whole week now, and since the weather has been terrible for much of that time it has been great to have somewhere dry to hang out. It also means that we can climb together when he's not at work, which is great for me and hopefully means he gets something worthwhile out of this arrangement too.
Like any good parasite though, the time will come to leave this host and move to the next stage of my life cycle. If I were a tick (specifically a female tick), the next step after feeding off a large mammal would be to lay my eggs. I won't be doing that. Instead, I meet my brother-in-law, climbing buddy and all-around-good-guy Rohan on Wednesday in Vancouver (it's Monday today). We'll go on a four week climbing extravaganza across British Columbia, focusing on long rock routes in the mountains (think 1200 metres long) and then return to the Southern Hemisphere, where by all accounts winter is in full swing.
The same is true for climbing parasites like me. If I latch on to a group at a crag, I'm usually only with them for a few hours and it's easy enough for them to get rid of me and go their own way. But recently, I have reached new levels of parasitism. I have latched onto a host and am currently writing this post on their enormous computer IN THEIR APARTMENT.
I should be clear, describing this as an act of parasitism suggests that I'm somehow responsible for the pretty sweet situation I find myself in, but in fact this is all the doing of my most generous and benevolent host, Ward. I met Ward in the car park at the crag and climbed with him and another friend for the day. I had spent five days at the Skaha Bluffs trying unsuccessfully to bum rope and soloing easy climbs, so getting a chance to climb with other people in relative safety was most welcome. I ended up carrying a bunch of Ward's climbing equipment back to the cars at the end of the day and, since we were both tired and pretty chuffed about they day's exploits, I completely forgot to give it back to him.
Later that night I realised my mistake and contacted Ward to explain. He had also completely forgotten, and was near Walmart at the time, so he dropped by to collect his stuff. In the process, he noticed the slightly squalid conditions I was living in and offered me a room at his place if I wanted to get out of the van for a while. The next day the weather crapped out and I took him up.
Since then, Ward has been an incredibly warm host. I've been staying with him for a whole week now, and since the weather has been terrible for much of that time it has been great to have somewhere dry to hang out. It also means that we can climb together when he's not at work, which is great for me and hopefully means he gets something worthwhile out of this arrangement too.
Like any good parasite though, the time will come to leave this host and move to the next stage of my life cycle. If I were a tick (specifically a female tick), the next step after feeding off a large mammal would be to lay my eggs. I won't be doing that. Instead, I meet my brother-in-law, climbing buddy and all-around-good-guy Rohan on Wednesday in Vancouver (it's Monday today). We'll go on a four week climbing extravaganza across British Columbia, focusing on long rock routes in the mountains (think 1200 metres long) and then return to the Southern Hemisphere, where by all accounts winter is in full swing.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Dirtbag Life
OK, this post is actually a bit out of date, but I thought you might like an insight into the dirtbag lifestyle, so I figured I'd still put it up.
Since the completion of the portrait, I have returned to Penticton to resume my parasitic ways at the Skaha Bluffs climbing area. Last time I was staying here there were cheap rates at a nearby campground, which served as a neat social hub to find climbing partners and meant I could charge my laptop and take showers. Having a functioning laptop and being able to take showers are the hallmarks of a civilised life. But during my absence, peak season started in Penticton, a summer resort town, and now the campsites charge an unholy $35 a night for site. So instead I have been sleeping in my van in the carpark at Walmart. I realise that Walmart is a large corporation, and is thus the embodiment of evil and greed and capitalist terror, but they have a North America-wide policy of allowing people to sleep in campervans and RVs in their carparks, which is pretty much the best thing ever.
But before you lose all respect for me because I'm sponging off a giant corporation, save a bit in reserve so that you can take satisfaction in abandoning it too when you discover that this Walmart has a built in McDonald's, and that I regularly steal their WiFi. Yes, I have sold out to our capitalist overlords in exchange for a free place to park my van overnight and heartbreakingly slow access to the Internet.
Sleeping in the Walmart carpark has its advantages (it's free), but there are definite downsides to the arrangement. The toilets (washrooms, for my Canadian readers) are only open from 8am to 10pm, which can mean that a late night call of nature has to be answered in some trees behind the building that are probably part of some one's yard. There is also no running water, so I have to refill my water bottles at a park near the Skaha lake. After several days of this practise, a maintenance person for the park informed me that I was drinking lake water. In a monumental feat of confirmation bias, I have managed to convince myself that he's wrong. There is also nowhere to charge my laptop, but I can use the local public library if it's open, or I can use a power point in the toilet block at the park where I get my water. Of course, actually using your laptop (or just hanging around waiting for it to charge) in a public washroom is off the scale of creepiness, so I have to plug it in, hide the laptop in a bag, and then sit at a picnic table outside and read a book while I wait to make sure the maintenance guy doesn't lock the toilets with my stuff inside. And finally, there is nowhere to shower. This is largely academic, because even at the campgrounds I was at before I didn't actually use the showers very often, but sometimes I wonder if my advanced personal odor might make it harder to find climbing partners.
In spite of, or perhaps because of, these petty hardships, living in a van at Walmart does give me unassailable dirtbag credibility. If I wasn't such a terrible climber I would be the complete package -an inspiration to foolhardy teenagers and a source of anxiety for parents. Indeed, I was once just such a teenager, dreaming of a life lived cheaply, where hygiene and a respectable place in the social order are given up in exchange for more climbing, more skiing, and a less financially secure old-age.Of course, living in a van in a city is only the tip of the dirtbag iceberg. But this small taste has given me hope that maybe one day I too can become a bearded eccentric living in a cave.
Since the completion of the portrait, I have returned to Penticton to resume my parasitic ways at the Skaha Bluffs climbing area. Last time I was staying here there were cheap rates at a nearby campground, which served as a neat social hub to find climbing partners and meant I could charge my laptop and take showers. Having a functioning laptop and being able to take showers are the hallmarks of a civilised life. But during my absence, peak season started in Penticton, a summer resort town, and now the campsites charge an unholy $35 a night for site. So instead I have been sleeping in my van in the carpark at Walmart. I realise that Walmart is a large corporation, and is thus the embodiment of evil and greed and capitalist terror, but they have a North America-wide policy of allowing people to sleep in campervans and RVs in their carparks, which is pretty much the best thing ever.
But before you lose all respect for me because I'm sponging off a giant corporation, save a bit in reserve so that you can take satisfaction in abandoning it too when you discover that this Walmart has a built in McDonald's, and that I regularly steal their WiFi. Yes, I have sold out to our capitalist overlords in exchange for a free place to park my van overnight and heartbreakingly slow access to the Internet.
Sleeping in the Walmart carpark has its advantages (it's free), but there are definite downsides to the arrangement. The toilets (washrooms, for my Canadian readers) are only open from 8am to 10pm, which can mean that a late night call of nature has to be answered in some trees behind the building that are probably part of some one's yard. There is also no running water, so I have to refill my water bottles at a park near the Skaha lake. After several days of this practise, a maintenance person for the park informed me that I was drinking lake water. In a monumental feat of confirmation bias, I have managed to convince myself that he's wrong. There is also nowhere to charge my laptop, but I can use the local public library if it's open, or I can use a power point in the toilet block at the park where I get my water. Of course, actually using your laptop (or just hanging around waiting for it to charge) in a public washroom is off the scale of creepiness, so I have to plug it in, hide the laptop in a bag, and then sit at a picnic table outside and read a book while I wait to make sure the maintenance guy doesn't lock the toilets with my stuff inside. And finally, there is nowhere to shower. This is largely academic, because even at the campgrounds I was at before I didn't actually use the showers very often, but sometimes I wonder if my advanced personal odor might make it harder to find climbing partners.
In spite of, or perhaps because of, these petty hardships, living in a van at Walmart does give me unassailable dirtbag credibility. If I wasn't such a terrible climber I would be the complete package -an inspiration to foolhardy teenagers and a source of anxiety for parents. Indeed, I was once just such a teenager, dreaming of a life lived cheaply, where hygiene and a respectable place in the social order are given up in exchange for more climbing, more skiing, and a less financially secure old-age.Of course, living in a van in a city is only the tip of the dirtbag iceberg. But this small taste has given me hope that maybe one day I too can become a bearded eccentric living in a cave.
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