The iconic Aguille du MidiWow. After months of dreaming and a few more months of planning, scheming, pleading and, by the good grace of those involved, I’m finally on my way to the Alps. It didn’t really hit me until today in the Seattle airport. After flying in from Anchorage I walked up the stairs to the international gates, heard my name being called on the overhead and saddled up to the gate. I was expecting some sort of unfortunate news. It was over an hour until boarding so what else could it be, right? Nope. No problem. They just wanted to check me in. And as I walked away from the desk it suddenly hit me that I was about to fly a good ways around the globe to play for 2 months. Indulgent? Absolutely.
Sabatical Addiction
I’ve quit jobs before to do stuff like this, three others to be exact, so actually having a job when I return from this outing is a bit of a novelty. I graduated from PA school in 1994 and, while the profession offered a decent salary and a certain amount of professional respect, I wasn’t quite ready to be career guy. My graduation present to myself was a month in New Zealand and I remained completely distracted by my weekends in the mountains, most of the time solo. When the neurosurgeon I was working for at the time suggested I invest myself a bit more into his practice and quit running off every weekend, I bowed out. He and his Armani suits didn’t get me and that was fine.
I spent my first month of freedom in the Tetons, plucking off as many classics as I could. I got my first taste of life at the Grand Teton Climbers Ranch, which would later prove to be an anchor for me as I became more entrenched in the climbing and guiding culture in those iconic mountains.
Chimborazo, highest summit in EcuadorA month in Ecuador soon followed and my appetite for international travel and climbing was whetted. I was couch surfing and was eventually overcome with the sense that I should continue to further my medical career. I made some phone calls to some contacts and employment was gained in Wenatchee, Washington with a prominent orthopedic surgeon who also was a climber.
Hard to believe this summit was on my first trip to NepalEd actually understood me and I him, a bit. We followed very different paths in life but found common ground in the mountains and travel. He took me to Nepal my second year with him and opened my eyes to that world, a place I’d come to love and return to many times. Although I grew professionally with Ed, I still was plagued by wanderlust of a sort. The nearby mountains offered the perfect place to develop as an alpinist. Years earlier, several friends suggested that perhaps I indulge my penchant for teaching and become a guide. I never seriously considered it until I actually hired one years later and lived amongst them at the Ranch. I started scheming a way to try this hat on for size.
Aconcagua, highest summit in the Southern HemisphereAfter two years with Ed, I admitted my restlessness, thanked him deeply, and shoved off into the unknown again. This time it was Chile and Argentina, a summit of Aconcagua and some roaming in rarely seen mountains near the Northern Patagonia ice cap. Upon my return, I started my apprenticeship in Alaska with Brian Okonek at Alaska-Denali Guiding. A couple of trips up there taught me what I needed to know about big back packs, slogging in snow shoes and serious winter camping.
More letter writing landed me a job with Exum Mountain Guides later that summer. Clearly, they were desperate, hiring eight new overflow guides with varying degrees of experience. Almost unintentionally, my travels and climbing gave me the resume that Exum was looking for in new guides. I could hardly believe my good fortune and it was an opportunity that would shape the next 10 years of my life. Nothing like spending your first day on the job with Chuck fucking Pratt to make you realize you’ve won the lottery! It just got better from there.
My officeI was hooked, living in my van, surfing couches and guest beds around the west and generally enjoying the most carefree time of my life. I turned 40 years old during this time and it all seemed so improbable. I wasn’t always happy. I was exquisitely lonely at times. That’s bound to happen sleeping in parking lots in the dead of winter. But I persisted.
More trips to Nepal, Argentina and Alaska followed before the urge to have a roof over my head got the better of me. I spent a ski season working for a surgeon near Aspen and finally landed a job with another climbing orthopod in Flagstaff, Arizona. I thought I was finally ready to simmer down a bit and enjoyed my time there. But about 2 years into it, I woke up one day and asked myself if this was it. Going to work each day. Climbing on weekends. Taking short vacations. I was bored.
Shishipangma - 14th highest peak in the worldAn opportunity to go back to the Himalayas came up, a double-header affair involving Shishipangma and Cho Oyu and I was in. I’d lasted 2 ½ years this time. Unfortunately, after a couple of weeks acclimatizing in Nepal I had a seizure for unknown reasons. Yep. Pissed and shit myself good. Knowing a little too much about this sort of thing had me balling my eyes out, believing I had a brain tumor. A trip back to Kathmandu, many phone calls to expert friends and a negative brain MRI had me off to Tibet in spite of an unshakeable sense of dread.
Although I performed well on the mountain, never experiencing a repeat episode, I could never get my head fully in the game. My best friend and climbing partner and I fell out in an odd way and the magic of the trip was gone. We made it to about 7,200 meters but neither conditions nor psyche favored us much. I bailed on the rest of the trip and was relieved to out of the mountains. Some more brain testing in Bangkok followed by surfing in Bali completed some kind of transition for me.
I’m not sure what it was. A sense of helplessness? Lack of control? Was I just over the suffering of expeditions? I don’t really know. But I returned to Jackson and guiding in the Tetons unsure of my next move. A visit to the local orthopedic office landed me another PA job. I continued to guide part time and gradually settled into the community. I met my wife, honed my skiing chops and generally felt more at peace.
It didn’t last, of course. My marriage failed, or I failed it and my job started sucking in ways I couldn’t control. I didn’t feel the pull of the road, though. I interviewed for jobs elsewhere but didn’t jump hard on any of them. I loved Jackson and felt like a real member of the climbing and skiing community there. That was important to me. But aspects of my job were getting me down. Being a small medical community, however, I had with few other opportunities than the position I currently had.
I came very close to taking a position with a professional cycling team as a sport scientist and moving to Spain. Did the 3-day interview and everything. But budget cuts and likely my lack of formal coaching volume nixed that. What an interesting turn that would have been. Just after I missed this opportunity - a day later, to be exact - a random phone call from a long-not-heard-from friend ultimately led to me moving to Alaska. You know the rest of that story.
I currently enjoy the greatest amount of professional satisfaction I’ve had in my career. It’s a combination of experience, a fun boss, good outcomes, a generally pleasurable work environment and handsome compensation. I finally feel like I sort of know what I’m doing most of the time.
So, why leave for 2 months? Well, because I can. No really. Honestly, I’m feeling my age. The undeniable impact of birthdays and gravity has been noticeable the past few years. I think this happens to all of us in our fifties. Going to the Alps for a week or two simply would not do it justice. So, I got this wild hair to just ask for what I thought was enough time to do it right. Certain elements at work fell into place that would make it reasonable for everyone. I feel very lucky to have the chance.
Bon Voyage
This....
... became this.
And... I'm off!
The woman at the baggage check in Anchorage refused to let me pay $200 for my third bag. She told me to just carry my bigger pack on as a second carry on. I told her I didn't want to be “that guy” that everyone gives the stink eye to as they lumber down the isle. She assured me I was a far cry from that. But as I started off toward the gate I realized that this new carry on had about 15 lbs of GU products, something I’m certain the TSA bullies would frown upon. Some quick repacking yielded my second bag weighing in at exactly 50.0 lbs. Crazy.
Cutting it close on the repack
All that delay with the baggage and some drama at security with the dude wanting to inspect my climbing gear had me technically missing my flight. The woman at the gate tried to be stern and shame me for being late but eventually gave into my pathetic pleading and let me on.
The misfortune continued in flight with screaming babies in close proximity on all legs. Oh, how I hate little screaming brats on airplanes. Grrr….
And finally, my bags missed the connection in London so I now waited for an extra hour for next flight in. I’d rather wait for them than hope they show in Chamonix in a couple of days . The Cham Shuttle van service was easy enough to find and 35 Euros got me to the door of my gite. I can’t move into my flat until Saturday and the inn keeper secured me a room next door in the mean time.
The Alpen Rose is run by a pleasant Korean fellow named Cho who's been in Cham for years. He caters to Korean clientelle for obvious reasons but his English is good and was more than willing to host me for a couple of nights. I had a simple room to myself and the usual continental breakfast waiting for me downstairs. Not a bad start.