23 Years in 23 Hours

Was an engaging 23 hours over the last two days in Boulder Canyon with rain, thunder, insane amounts of loose rock and the frenetic clicking of carabiners...

Time for a bit of reflection from 23 years of selfish suffering - stringing myself out on cliffs from Yosemite to Tasmania. So much of who I am is tied up in my tired ropes and slings. Each metal nick lovingly gouged away from Camalot lobes, every fraying stopper wire tells a tale. 10,000 stories of desperation and exhilaration. Sweat, blood, tears - my DNA is heavily infused with these tools that are a means to an end, end to a means...

This curious collecting of metal and fabric bits I give my life to every time I step into the vertical, and they give it back, is a strange shared existence...

In some ways holding a certification now from the American Mountain Guide Association legitimizes the years of self-inflicted financial poverty, being selfishly obsessed with the next sojourn into the unknown often at the expense of personal and professional relationships.

There is a kind of balance that can come with a certification, and a responsibility. A power that comes with sharing a passion responsibly and inspiring others to engage the unknown more safely.

So much good knowledge to share, new information, awareness through this process - so many things to improve upon... a continuum of learning, growing, sharing. And perhaps best of all, a reason to be outside as much as possible, in wilderness, the wilds... Continually engaging the flow with stone and helping create a safer path for others to do the same...

iPhone shot from today's AMGA course...