The Dangers of Winter Hiking

This weekend I decided to go for a hike in Shingletown. We recently had a batch of storms bringing rain mixed with sleet and ice. This was followed by a dusting of snow so a healthy layer of frozen white stuff covered all the trails. It was cold but the sun was out so I decided a quick trip up to the ridge would be a good afternoon activity.

When I arrived at the trailhead I discovered the crust was a little heavier than I anticipated so I embarked on my journey with cautious optimism. For the most part, the snow was solid. My footing was a little sketchy in some spots as I was having trouble breaking through the top level of wintry goodness; however I decided to press on and continue my solo trek through the woods.

As I got further into the wilderness I noticed the ground under foot was getting steeper. The grade of the trails coupled with the near hockey rink conditions had me second-guessing my decision to reach the ridge. While I contemplated continuing on or turning back I heard something crashing through the brush not far from where I stood. Suddenly the largest dog I’ve ever seen appeared on the trail about twenty yards behind me. It was at that moment I realized it wasn’t a dog at all, but a bear.

Okay that last part didn’t really happen. I’m glad it didn’t because the hike (and I use the term loosely) back to my car was treacherous enough without being pursued by a large fuzzy pile of claws and teeth. As I slid uncontrollably down the trail it became blatantly obvious I was not hiking. Instead it was more akin to surviving.

After about twenty minutes of continuous sliding interlaced with bouts of tree grabbing to slow my decent (my boots didn’t come with breaks) I came to rest near the creek. The ground finally leveled off and I was able to resume my hike. Maybe next time I’ll take skates, just to be safe.

Here's Your Gold Star

As I’ve said in the past, I have a pretty decent job. It’s challenging yet allows me to incorporate a certain degree of creativity that isn’t always found in the governmental sector. This recently became particularly evident with my end-of-year evaluation.

As policy dictates, all employees are evaluated at the end of the calendar year through a written process that documents work performance. The first half is done by the employee, the second half is done by their direct supervisor, and the third half is done collectively with the intent of setting goals for the upcoming year (Yeah I know that doesn’t add up, but didn’t I say I work for the government?). A few months ago my direct supervisor resigned. Because of this unfortunate incident, we were instructed to complete all three parts of the evaluation solo.

As you can imagine it was difficult to be completely objective while filling out my evaluation. I felt a little stupid using phrases like, “Eric is a team player” or “Eric can thoroughly navigate his way through difficult political situations” or “Eric excels at stakeholder involvement and consensus building” or “Since Eric began his employment, he’s helped foster a positive paradigm shift towards technological advantages” or “Eric is an outside-the-box thinker.” Actually I could have used any generic resume buzz-word and it would have worked (but still sounded unbelievably silly).

In the end I think I provided a relatively unbiased assessment of myself considering the circumstances. I feel very confident knowing that in my personnel file there will be an evaluation which says, “In his brief tenure with our agency, Eric continues to successfully kick ass in a professional manner while encouraging others to be rad. Similarly, his overwhelming command of ironical jokes and unwavering pursuit to seem important while doing as little as possible is a continued benefit to the agency as a whole.”

I’m expecting a big promotion.

The Language of Monkeys

As mentioned in my previous post, I’ve recently started climbing again. While I’m not setting the world on fire with my abilities (not yet anyway), climbing provides a great indoor workout for chilly winter days. Also, I’m fortunate enough to be in a community where there are some amazingly talented climbers to teach me what I’m lacking and provide inspiration. It’s quite remarkable to watch them effortlessly traverse one of the largest fake rock collections I’ve ever seen. One of the greatest challenges, however, is learning the language.

As with most sports, climbing has its own unique vocabulary and learning these foreign terms is one of the hardest tasks. After all, just about anyone can climb, it’s part of our nature (assuming you believe in that wacky theory of evolution). Figuring out the jargon is a whole different challenge.

A conversation among climbers may include any of the following words being used as a noun or verb including crimper, sloper, gaston, pinch, under-cling, jug, lump-o-grapes, flagging, cranking, matching, tracking, campus, getting pumped (followed by de-pumping) and my personal favorite; mailing (okay, it’s actually sending, but that doesn’t seem to make any sense to me so I chose to make up my own term). Also, good beta can make a specific problem a lot easier.

I’ll admit, I don’t know what most of these words mean, at least not in the context of climbing. I’m still not convinced they are even all real. I do know however, that I’m having fun but my skin hurts.

Stupid Brain...

I like to fancy myself as an ordinary guy (except I use 18th century words like fancy). Nothing in my life is too spectacular by my standards. I have a good job, great friends, and lots of activities that keep me busy. What could be wrong with that you ask? Well, I have this stupid brain in my head that always thinks about stuff.

I have this unquenched desire to over-think and over-analyze everything imaginable. It doesn’t matter how trivial or complex the issue, I try to figure out what the outcome is going to be in a situation before any action is initiated. It’s kind of annoying because I’m fully aware I can’t figure out the ending before I even start. That’s just asinine.

I’ve recently gotten back into rock climbing. One of the techniques the real climbers keep telling me to employ is to shut my brain off and just climb. Oddly enough, it works. When you’re not thinking about the moves and where your hands and feet will go, you just instinctively climb. What I need to do is figure out a way to shut off my brain in other situations. So, brain if you’re reading this, please stop thinking and start doing. It’s best for both of us.

And the Seasons Change Again

Saturday marked the beginning of the ski season in the SC. Our local mountain (actually, it’s just a really really big hill) opened for the weekend and I found myself going to work bright and early for the ski patrol. My gear was still packed away from last season and my board hasn’t been tuned or waxed so needless to say I wasn’t fully prepared for this to happen. Also, since it hasn’t really snowed this year I wasn’t too crazy about spending my day on the mountain but I guess there were worse things I could have been doing.

As a snowboarder I have a bit of a gripe with snowboarders. Well, maybe it’s more an issue with the companies that promote the blatantly obnoxious style and look that’s on the pros each season. I’m still trying to figure out how someone can comfortably ride down a mountain on a snowboard while their pants hang precariously below their ass. I also don’t understand how wearing a moisture soaked bandana around your face feels good. Maybe it’s just me, but I prefer to grow a beard in order to keep my face warm, but then again I should consider the demographic I’m talking about.

I could continue on about this particular topic and I fully intend to do just that, but not right now. The season is still young so there will be plenty of time for me to rail against the industry that gives me so much enjoyment in the winter while also frustrating me to no end. It’s not always about the latest fashions and the hippest trends. Sometimes you actually have to ride a board down the mountain.

Even though the season opened with little fanfare it was still a bluebird day and I’ll take that any chance I can. I have to admit, it felt really good to be out on the slopes with my board under foot. With any luck the real snow will start to fly soon and I’ll be able to enjoy a full season of free-rides, tree-lines, and nipple-deep pow, so let the games begin.

Holiday Fun; Part I

Ah the holidays. You know, that glorious time of year when friends and families get together for food, merriment, and an all around good time; or at least that’s the general idea. Before I continue, I want to stress that I love my family very much. As far as families go, they are second-to-none and I wouldn’t trade them for the world. With that said, when I get together with my family over the holidays I often find myself trying not to lose my mind during these times of good tidings.

Let me set the table for you. My family consists of seventeen people. This includes my parents, brothers and sister, the in-laws, and seven nieces and nephews (ranging in age from seven to one). All tolled there are seventeen of us. My one brother and I are the only two single adults left so my tolerance for this type of sensory overload is a bit skewed. In my own little world I can handle a lot of goings on, but then again, I have a little more control over what happens in my little bubble. In the “family holiday” world, however, it’s a free-for-all that only seems to subside when those at the ends of the age spectrum start to fade off and go to bed.

Here’s how it usually happens. I arrive to my parents’ home and immediately suspect they have been robbed because all the furniture in the otherwise comfortable family-room is gone. That’s when I’m reminded that everything has been relocated throughout the house in order to make room for the multiple dining tables and plethora of mismatched chairs that will provide a cozy (read: elbow-to-elbow and no room to move) atmosphere for our holiday feast. I spend a few quite hours catching up with my parents and help move furniture.

After a while, the rest of the family starts to trickle in. The first few minutes are fine as salutations are exchanged with handshakes and hugs for all. Then, the may-lay begins. It usually has a similar recipe so it’s fairly predictable. It goes something like this:

Start by saying any one of the following, “Hey guys, don’t chase each other.” “SLOW DOWN!” “There’s no running here kids.”

Repeat the above phrases about thirty or forty times and enjoy a little pre-dinner wine.

Begin gathering (or herding) the seven kids and eleven adults around the table to collectively sit for a pleasant dinner.

Once seated and everyone’s plates are full, choose one child to start getting antsy thus creating a chain reaction causing all the kids to demand they be excused to continue running around the house.

Repeat above phrases until someone gets hurt or someone starts to cry (including the adults).

As the empty bottles of wine and beer stack up in the recycling bin and some actual furniture is returned to the family-room it’s nice to sit down and enjoy a few laughs with the family. Oddly enough, this is not a new pattern. It happened again this year and is bound to happen next year as well. Through it all though, I’m thankful that I have such a wonderful family to spend time with during the holidays. It must not be all that bad because for some reason I end up going back for more every year (and Christmas is right around the corner). Now who wants more pie with their insanity?

Pollution Control

I’m not going to lie; this past weekend took a bit out of me. It was the last home football game of the season and we had a few friends come into town. The weather was cold and I decide to rage a bit more than normal. It hurt more than I expected, but then again, I knew it might get a little rough. The events of this weekend reminded me of a song that my brothers and I made up a while ago. There was music that went with it as well, but I couldn’t begin to tell you how to play it. This is what I remember:

It’s early morning, about seven AM.
Still silly from a night of Jim.
I think it’s as bad as the night before.
I can’t remember, finding the floor.

Don’t take into heart, but take in to mind;
It will happen again, it happens all the time;
And each time, you don’t remember the last.

On and on he keeps calling me.
Just like a friend, I’ve never seen.
We talk about a lot of things.
He says nothing at all to me.

Okay, so maybe calling it a song was a bit of a stretch. Maybe it’s more of a poem. Regardless, this past weekend reminded me of these lyrics. As I’ve been trying to shake to cobwebs out today, I realized why I don’t go big like this all the time. It’s just too much work.