The Impact of Goals and Reality

The idea of climbing Denali set off a chain reaction. Actually deciding I was going to go of course resulted in great excitement. It also changed entirely the way I looked at exercise, fitness, weight, all of those topics that so often make people grumble. Training became a much higher priority and a lot more fun.

Recently I was involved in a group discussion about how guide services screen their prospective clients. There was a two-party conversation going on near me between someone with guide service experience and someone who soon plans to use a guide service. I didn't hear the core of the conversation, but the final words from the guide were, "We would screen you out."

The man he was talking to was maybe 10 to 15 years younger than me and very fit; he has run several marathons, for instance. It took a moment for it to sink in, but soon I recognized that I too could be screened off a climb. Not only will I be 57 when we land on Denali, but I have a handlful of borderline ailments for which I take a handful of pills each day. Will I too go through all of this planning, preparation and excited anticipation only to be screened out months from now?

Just as setting the goal and making the decision changed my outlook on exercise and everything else that is good and healthful -- and necessary if I am to train properly for the climb -- even the remote possibility of being screened out sapped my enthusiasm. The change was immediate. Exercise became a lower priority. Excuses came easier.

All this was about a week ago. I am coming to terms with two things. One is that I need to deal with the reality that I have not been screened out. I need to replace fear with fact and find out what the medical qualifications are for the climb (I am certain about my climbing qualifications). The second is that climbing is, first and foremost, a mind game. Whether you think you can or think you cannot, you are right. I have failed to summit on many a climb, and the most common reason is falling prey to one mind game or another. And the mind game starts long before we even set foot on the mountain.

Reactions

It is interesting to note how people react when they hear the news that we are climbing Denali. The spectrum is broad.

Some more-or-less say, "Cool," then proceed to talk about the weather or something else relatively mundane, as if they didn't hear me or care or understand -- I think more the latter. Others look at me as if I were crazy, suicidal. "That's a really big deal," is a common response.

There are others that are supportive and excited. Some want to be involved one way or another. A couple have said they'd like to go along. A few have offered up support with equipment. Some would love to have a similar goal but realize it is unrealistic for one or more reasons.

My reactions to their reactions are not full spectrum. For those that are unexcited or that find me crazy, I understand. Mountain climbing is often not understood by non-climbers. I am not doing this for their support or adulation, thus the lack of either is a non-issue. For those that are supportive and excited, I am appreciative. Lofty goals can be contagious, and that is great fun!

Coincidence?

Is it a coincidence that if you type Denali into a Word document it wants to correct the spelling to Denial?

Been there, haven't done that

No, I haven't climbed Denali before...... yet. But I have been in the neighborhood, twice before.

The first time was shortly after my 19th birthday in 1973. In January. I spent two weeks living in the bush in a log cabin in the dead of winter a few miles from Talkeetna. Talkeetna is to Denali what Los Angeles is to Hollywood. It is your last destination before the real attraction. It is a small town with little more than a general store, a saloon, a post office and an airstrip. It is from that airstrip that the bush planes take off to ferry climbers to Denali. The town slogan is, "Talkeetna: A small drinking town with a climbing problem."

In the dead of winter we averaged 40 below zero F. on that trip.

The second time was in 2000 on an adventure travel trip with my family. We got close to Denali, but never actually saw it.

It isn't much to claim, but I have experienced that latitude and the temperature. Altitude will be next.

It doesn’t matter whether we decide we can or we decide we can’t, we are right

Why do most people not climb mountains?

For most it is because they have decided that they don’t want to – or can’t. Whether they actual can or actually can’t is another matter, but they can’t because they have decided they can’t.

For others they may try and stop when they discover it is uncomfortable, or they get tired. They started off wanting to, and then decided they didn’t want to.

Those that do climb mountains decide they want to. They decide they can. They decide that it doesn’t matter that it is uncomfortable or that they are tired. Maybe even that makes climbing a mountain better.

Life is the same way. There are many things in life people decide to not participate in. There are many people that decide they can’t do ‘it’. Again, whether they actually can or not is dwarfed by their decision that they can’t. Some of the most worthwhile things in life are tried by a few, and most of those decide they can’t once they start. They are tired or it is uncomfortable.

Be it mountains or other things in life, it doesn’t matter whether we decide we can or we decide we can’t, we are right. If we only choose life options that are comfortable, where we never tire, we will experience little in life. We will die comfortable, we will die rested, we will die without experiencing life.

To live is to do what others say cannot be done. To live is to tackle that which is uncomfortable. To live is to try so hard that we become tired, but when we accomplish our goals we feel great.

From Revelation to Routine

My ambitious training program lasted precisely one day. The weather in the Puget Sound area hit all-time record highs of 103 degrees at the airport and 106 at our home in Woodinville. Even more uncharacteristic and more intolerable was the fact that it did not cool off much at night. I could hardly work at my computer much less climb steep hills for exercise.

It stayed that way for a week or so, and then I recommenced my exercise -- for two days. It was just too easy to become distracted.

About this time my long-time friend and climbing buddy of years ago was in town. I told him of my ambitious idea, and said that if I went, so would he. In July, when I made my decision to go, I told him I was serious. So was he.

Physically, Brian is very fit. Muscle tone and cardiovascular fitness are superb. But other than doing an occasional day hike when he is in town, he has done little in the outdoors these past 30 years. In that respect, he is soft.

I am the inverse. I am in pretty good shape, but not like Brian. But I have stayed quite active in the outdoors and am used to it.

We make a good pair, mentoring each other in complementary ways.

Since making my pronouncement, Colin is now leaning toward going as well. Our team is forming!

And my training is becoming quite consistent. I get some amount and some form of cardiovascular exercise almost every day. Reading about Denali, reading about climbs, and just thinking about actually pulling off this monumental task all combine to make me want to exercise.

The Beginning of it All

There are certain emotions and experiences that transcend our mind's ability to translate them into rational, definable, explainable concepts. Our innate draw to nature is an example of this. Over the ages countless individuals have attempted and failed to describe why people climb mountains. I do not intend to repeat that failure here.

Nonetheless, that draw has existing for me all of my life. As a young child I spent as much time as I could in the neighborhood woods. As a youth I sought every possible opportunity for an adventure in the great outdoors. As a young adult i spent most of my free time either on a climb, planning a climb, or dreaming about climbing.

This is not an uncommon experience for young people. But such passion and focus is usually soon transfered to other life experiences. Not me. I added passions to my life, but my passion for the outdoors has never wained. While my contemporaries evolved from climbing to car camping to RV's to golf, my family and I were off on backpacking trips, canoe expeditions and long distance bicycle rides. These activities provided basic sustenance for my ongoing pangs for the outdoors, but deep in my heart and soul, an unsatiated hunger resided, a residual of a long-dismissed goal: to climb Denali; Mount McKinley, the highest mountain in North America.

As my climbing rack was sold and replaced by a diaper bag, I became resolved to the reality that that particular goal in my life would need to be released. With every passing year accepting that missed goal became more tolerable, yet it has never really been tolerable.

Age is something that creeps up on us silently. We identify ourselves as a young person, and see no reason to redefine ourselves with the passing years. But eventually that redefinition is inflicted upon us either by others or by its undeniability. People stop asking for ID when we order a drink. A comment is made about, "someone your age..." And most recently for me, you are given a senior discount!

While the chronometer moves smoothly, the transitions from "young person" to "middle age" to "senior" happen in single massive steps.

It wasn't long after I was given my first senior discount that I realized that my goal to climb Denali was itself going to make a dramatic shift from the category of "voluntary acceptance of a missed goal" to "irrevocably canceled." This threat bounced around my mind subconsciously for some time before it became a conscious challenge: "Why CAN"T I climb Denali?" While most people would likely be able to quickly come up with a long list to answer that question, none of them seemed unsurmountable to me. "I am going to do it!" I told myself.

Broaching the idea with my family resulting in both predictable and surprising reactions. My wife Nancy, after enduring almost 30 years of my crazy ideas, was calm and rational, focusing on the expense of such an undertaking. My two sons, both highly experienced and accomplished outdoorsmen, were not supportive. Twenty-three year old Colin said it was just too dangerous. Twenty-seven year old Murray thought it was unrealistically ambitious.

After a couple of weeks of intermittent conversation on the topic, Colin suggested I consider Aconcagua. At roughly three thousand feet higher than Denali, it is the highest peak in South America and the entire Western Hemisphere. Such an altitude is a major consideration, but in terms of both weather and technical difficulty, Aconcagua is considerably easier and safer than Denali. Thus Colin's recommendation. Why not go for the tallest in the hemisphere and be safer? This was a compelling argument and I begin to do some research. Making the case even more convincing, he said he would go with me if the goal was Aconcagua.

The topic of climbing a major mountain (I had always considered Mount Rainier a major climb, but it was already being relegated to the status of a training climb in my mind) began to occupy more and more of my thoughts.

About this time I journeyed to a semi-annual outdoor industry trade show that I attend religiously. At these shows there are literally thousands of "toys" used to climb mountains and other outdoor pursuits. At the same time, the attendee list is riddled with names of highly regarded and accomplished climbers. It is hard not to run into a Rick Ridgeway, Royal Robbins, or Ed Viestures at these shows. This increased further the amount of time I thought about a major climb.

I was standing in the CAMP booth (major Italian manufacturer of climbing gear) when the mountain guides from International Mountain Guides came by. I thought it was a great opportunity to gain their insight into my aspiration.

Eric Simonson, Ershler and I talked for awhile and they both enthusiastically recommended Denali over Aconcagua. Phil had just returned the previous week from having climbed both of the peaks, and he said that Denali was a far better trip. "If you are only going to climb one big one, climb Denali," he said firmly. As to my comment about being 55 years old, he pointed out that he was 58!

Sitting in the airport waiting for my return flight to Seattle I cruised the web, saved websites, and downloaded training programs specific to climbing Denali. When I got home I immediately began my training regiment and documenting my progress on an Excel spreadsheet.