How Different We Are

I often struggle with how much the world hates itself.

We’re all floating around, packed together on a microscopic speck in an infinite universe, and the only thing we can do is point out how different we are from those around us. The more we point out the differences, the more glaring they become, as if they actually matter. We forget about our basic needs and instead make choices based on fear of the unknown. We spew vile rhetoric with the single goal of alienating those who are already alone, and shirk the responsibility as a species to help those less fortunate.

Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe as a species, our only goal is to further our own interests. I hope that’s not the case.

Life in a Nutshell

I started skiing back in 2009 when Tim Kemple asked me to pick it up in order to assist him on shoots. Shortly after, I went out with a buddy in the back country and had the worst day ever. I didn’t realize that breakable crust sucks no matter how long you’ve been skiing, but I didn’t know any better. I just thought I was really shitty and that when I got better it’d be more fun. This went on for quite a few seasons. I’d go skiing in the back country, do a big lap, tomahawk my way down the hill, have an internal debate on whether or not it was actually fun, then try it again the next weekend. As the years went on, the internal debates subsided and I started to feel like I genuinely enjoyed it.

This is life in a nutshell. At first, you suck at it, but you do it because you have to, and eventually you learn to love it so much that even when you’re having bad days, you’re grateful for the experience.

The Next Misadventure

The low hum of a stirring city creeps through the window. The alarm goes off and my eyes flutter open. It takes a few seconds for everything to come into focus. I lay in bed and stretch my legs, pointing my toes toward the opposite wall. I don’t want to get out of bed. I never want to get out of bed, and yet I know that I have never regretted it.

I love running. I love being up high on ridge lines, looking down into valleys, traversing over mountain ranges, drinking from streams, and feeling as if I am the only person around for hundreds of miles. I also hate running. I hate bushwhacking up drainages filled with stinging nettle, getting dehydrated, tripping, falling into the dirt, feeling like a bag of shit. And yet, as miserable as I am sometimes, I find myself on google earth, plotting the next misadventure. Surely I am not alone.

And All At Once, Everything Was Perfect

A few years ago, I spent some time in Norway with my good friends Cameron Sylvester and Angela Percival. Cameron was filming an ice climbing piece for Arcteryx and had asked me to come along to help out in the vertical world, while Angela was shooting stills. During the planning process, we had heard about giant formations along the coast, however after showing up, we quickly realized that the unusually warm spring had left all the coastal climbing rotting in the sun. After sitting down to discuss logistics, we decided to push inland. Cameron and I weren’t super enthusiastic since we had our hearts set on filming on the coast, but what we found was more amazing than either of us could have imagined. After a few hours of hiking, we came upon Storfossen, a colossal 500 foot monster that is formed in the Gorzi canyon located on the outskirts of the Lyngen Alps. Technically we didn’t stumble upon it. Cameron had briefly scouted it on a previous shoot, but because of time and logistics, they weren’t able to film on it.

The climb was accessed by either a 3 pitch rappel, or a diffiuclt down climb further up the canyon to the east. Since we hadn’t scouted the down climb, Cameron and I decided to rap down in order to get the approach shots we needed. Arcteryx athlete and badass Slovenian, Luka Lindic and his climbing partner Blaz Markovic (aka Lobo, which I think translates roughly to “Meat”, which would make sense since that is all he ate the entire trip) led the charge and after about 30 minutes, we were all at the bottom, staring up at the days project.

After filming a portion of the approach, Luka and Blaz started climbing, while Cam and I headed back up in order to film the last pitch. It was a long day, but the footage ended up looking really good, so we were psyched.

The following day, after making our way back up to the formation, we decided to rappel in from the top and film the individual pitches. While getting ready to rap in, we could feel the water that formed the climb underneath us, vibrating the entire column. Rapping down a few pitches, we arrived at a chamber that seemed to be much more stable than the upper pitches and also felt like a good place to start. The two of them geared up as I moved into position above them. About halfway through the 2nd pitch, after getting drenched by the melting ice, a huge windstorm came blowing up the canyon. The wall of white pushed toward us much faster than I had anticipated and didn’t have time to prepare for the inevitable blizzard. The intensity of it all caught me off guard.

Between the near impossible visibility and my soaked camera (sorry Cameron), the three of us quickly made our way up to the ice chamber that served as the last belay. As we waited for the storm to pass, we all exchanged glances. None of us were terribly excited to still be on the formation. The vibration was noticeably stronger at the last belay, and after a few minutes, the storm let up enough that we were able to leave the cavern and quickly make our way to the top.

Later that evening, after we descended in the dark, we stood by the car, watching the northern lights dance across the sky. The laughter faded as the group fell silent. Ribbons of green snaked past constellations and all at once, everything was perfect.

We All Watch the Same Sun Rise and Fall

It’s hard to comprehend all the hate in the world sometimes. We all watch the same sun rise and fall each day. We all feel pain and grief when friends and family leave this life. We can all feel the peace and solitude of a lonely lake shore, or the cool breeze on a quiet evening.

As I write these words, I know that I’m wrong, and maybe that’s the problem.

Ground Down to Dust

I walked along a broken fence that led down to the coast, battered by the elements. A harsh cold wind whipped at my face as the clouds raced across the sky. I climbed around, exploring like a child, hopping from rock to rock, splashing in puddles, skipping stones. Sitting down, my back against a column, staring out across the tumultuous ocean in front of me, I take in the scene around me. The rocks that that surround me have been battling the elements for millions of years, slowly wearing down over time. Like us, someday, this rock will be gone, ground down to dust, its molecules mixing with the earth. The difference is that the rock has no control over its immediate future. It might be able to fight the storm far longer than any of us ever could, but what’s the point of fighting, if you're unsure as to why you're doing it.

Cascading Across the Hills

Salt Lake City, Utah - I've lived in Salt Lake City for a few years now and am still blown away by the amazing trail system that is minutes from my house. One warm fall morning, Luke Nelson and I took advantage of the beautiful light that cascades across the hills overlooking the city, and we went out and shot some photos. I've run hundreds of miles on these trails and still seem to find new ones around every corner.  It's amazing!