Can I Have A Moment, Please?

Lake Superior at Crisp Point

Sometimes, I just need a moment.  Maybe I need that moment to take a deep breath before I say something I shouldn't, or a moment to have a hissy fit wile I rant and rage and let out my frustration.  Most times, though, I need a moment to just be silent.  This usually involves sitting on a high bluff at the edge of the woods overlooking Lake Superior, which is where I plan to someday build my stone cottage and live out my days sitting on my bluff overlooking Lake Superior. And chopping firewood.

A couple of years ago, when I was going through a rough time, I started this blog as a catharsis of sorts, where I shared my moments of peace found while traveling in a vintage Airstream.  My tin can let me go places I had dreamed of my whole life.  I enjoyed sharing my stories so much, that I want to do more.  But life still intervenes and keeps me from traveling often enough to write about it full time.  I spent a considerable amount of time this summer thinking about how I could develop my blog when I only travel a few times a year.  I also spent a considerable amount of time this summer not writing, because the two dogs, two cats, husband, kids, and all their friends were a constant energy in the house that prevented me from writing.

I may have spent the first month of summer feeling frustrated and wishing more than anything that I could have just one hour to write, except I had nothing but my frustration to write about, and who wants to read that?  I may have let that feeling go on, except that I really enjoy being a positive person more than a negative one.  My good friend, Debbie, who shares so many of my adventures, reminded me, "it is what it is".  It was summer, and everyone was home.  I gave up trying to write (which also goes against my nature)  and started looking for the positive.  I found it.

Gotcha, Suzy!

In each day, somewhere in the chaos and noise and demands, I had a moment.  Suzy the Cat began a habit of climbing up the ladder to my daughter's bunk bed and stealing her stuffed frog animal.  I would find that frog in the oddest places, pick it up and return it to the bed, only to find it again in a new place the next day.  It became a game with me and my daughters.
Where would Suzy put the frog today?

There was a moment each morning, when my youngest daughter, The Wise One, would walk into the kitchen while I was having my second pot of coffee and sleepily murmur, "Good morning, Mom" followed by a hug.  It's always good to start your day with a fond greeting and a warm hug.  We would then proceed to place our bets for what item my older daughter, Birdie, would announce she needed to get from Target that day.  Birdie went to Target almost every day.  It's a disease, as is spending her paycheck before she gets another one.  We're working on that.

The couch is NOT for you, Rooney!

I had other moments, as well.  I rarely left the house this summer.  Why would I, when Birdie would be going to Target anyway and could pick up what I needed?  But a few times we met up with friends for an evening, giving me moments of laughter and companionship.  I watched my son, Fun Boy, growing into a fine young man this summer, who worked hard at his job all day and cheerfully helped out around the house.  I had many moments with Rooney the Newfoundland, but those are best left
unmentioned in my efforts to remain positive.  I settled in this summer, and while I admit I still had day after day of being frustrated with no peace, no time, and no privacy, I embraced that moment each day when my heart would warm with delight over my family and friends.

The Tin Can at Muskallonge Lake

This new-found emphasis on finding the good each day, taking the moments that were given to me and holding them, gave me some ideas on the direction my blog might take once school started and I had time again to write.  I have stories from a few trips I took this summer, but I need more.  Perhaps, instead of only writing periodically about my adventures in the tin can, I could fill my time with sharing the moments I find each and every day that give me peace beyond of the tin can.

Stop spinning, Rooney!

I already had one of those moments this morning.  In preparing for my upcoming escape to the mountains, I have been brushing Rooney's thick and unruly fur every morning, trying to loosen as much hair as possible before we go so my tin can doesn't accumulate an entirely new floor covering.  Rooney is pretty tolerant of being groomed, usually standing still until I tell him he can go.  However, this morning, I wanted to focus on his enormous tail, and he didn't like that so much.  I had to hold him by the collar with one hand and try to brush his tail with the other, while he kept spinning away from me.  He would spin, I would follow, he would spin again, I would follow again.  Long before I even made a dent in the massive amounts of hair on his tail, I became dizzy until I finally fell down and gave up.  See?  I told you moments with Rooney detract from my personal goal of being positive.  But at least these days, my house is quieter and I am finding time to think, write, and dream.

My son has returned to the University and is contemplating changing his major during his 3rd year.  I'm sure several moments will result from that.  The Wise One has entered Middle School and taken up running, following in the footsteps of her older sister.  Cross Country Meets are a great place for peaceful moments.  Birdie has moved to the big city to begin her Freshman year of nursing school, and gave me a really nice moment last week.  She called home and asked me if I had ever taken a Philosophy course in college.  I told her not only had I taken several, I taught Philosophy for many years at the college level.  She was surprised and duly impressed.  It's not often I can impress my children.  It was a really good moment.

Starting today, I plan to write often about my moments, good and bad, at home and in the tin can.  My goal is to connect with readers on a most basic level.  There are good days and bad days, ups and downs, and within each day is a moment to remember.  Sharing my moments with you will hopefully touch you so that you know you are not alone.  We can all love those peaceful moments together, and learn to laugh at ourselves during those not-so-peaceful moments.  Never forget, Rooney will be laughing at all of us during every moment.  He's good at that.

Have a spectacular day, and thanks for reading my blog!  

Lines, Lines, Everywhere Lines

I started this blog when I was removed from a job that I loved very much.  The blog was a way to fill the time and replace the ugly thoughts in my head with something more positive.  As I learned more and more about blogging, I even thought I could do this full time and make some money in the process.  Problems solved.

Or so I thought.  I can't make money with my blog, at least not yet.  As much as I appreciate those of you who keep reading, the 50 or so "hits" I get a day do not attract advertisers or sponsors.  A successful blogger needs to get about 50,000 "hits" a day.  I am not sure that many people will ever want to read what I write!  Unless I am willing to take a frightening financial leap with lots of risk, and completely change my life, and possibly negatively affect my family, I cannot write full time.

Last summer when the loss of my job was still fresh, my husband allowed me to indulge in my two passions; camping and writing.  I had this exciting, grand idea that I could travel around often in my tin can, meet people, hear their wonderful stories and share them with an audience who would be as captivated as I about people and nature.

But this year, my husband wants to see a return on my indulgence.  He is having a hard time supporting me investing in a future that is seriously unsure, and on an intellectual level, I agree with him.  So I am struggling to keep writing while getting on with the responsibilities of life.  Aside from the fact that I don't have much opportunity to write at home, I have no material with which to work.  Said simply, what in the hell can I write about?  I never go anywhere or do much, and my life is a bit dull these days.

As usual, my family comes through for me.  This morning I was driving in the car with my youngest daughter, The Wise One, and I expressed my frustration to her.  She gave me a rather demeaning eye-roll and said,

"Mom, you're making this too hard.  You can write about anything, look around.  Write about lines.  There are lines on the road, lines overhead, lines in the sky and lines in the car.  Every day, we stay in the lines, we go over the lines, under them, around them.  Write about that."

Okay.  I can do that.

Lines really are everywhere.  There are the lines on our faces and lines in the mirror.  There are parallel lines and lines that intersect.  Sometimes we put one line against another to form an angle to our own advantage.  There are lines we cross, and lines we blur.  Some lines are drawn for us, like the yellow line in the middle of the road.  It keeps us on a narrow path, telling us how to get where we are going.  If we cross that line at the wrong time, we could be in serious trouble.  I like those clear-cut lines, I follow them.  If I am driving on a rainy night and those lines are blurred, I get uneasy.  I do not like blurry lines, I like them defined and easy to see. (That's the OCD talking).

Then there are the lines we draw for ourselves.  For these, we use rulers and sharpies, at least I do, because I have OCD, and these lines are permanent and straight.  We do not cross them, that would be messy.

I have spent the better part of my life walking a line.  I balance responsibility with dreams, staying on the fine line between being what I need to be for others, and what I need to be for myself.  I have taken the safe route, the one that's been drawn for me, because it's easier.  But in all this time of walking that line, I always saw, in my peripheral vision, the wide open spaces on either side of the line.  I think the time is coming when I step off the line, take a turn, and wander into the wide open spaces with no direction, no boundaries, and endless possibilities.

It took an off-hand comment from a twelve-year-old child to make me realize that I am tired of the lines in front of me.  I have stayed in the lines, waited in lines, gone under the lines, and followed the lines for too long, without ever really crossing them.  I soon may find myself drawing my own line, with a straight edge and a colorful sharpie, and hoping others will follow it.

When I started writing this post, I had no idea where I was going with it.  The Wise One tossed me the topic, I thought it had possibilities, so I just started writing.  I never thought it would lead me to this conclusion;  I can write my own lines, I can change my story.  (My OCD just kicked into overdrive).  I don't have to have everything planned, my life doesn't have to keep following the same line.  I can change my course (hyperventilating now) and see where it goes.

I know that the day I can step off the line and take those first few steps away from the hurt and anger over losing my job, the day I can turn away from the people who don't believe I'm worth something more, will be the day I become something more.

I can keep writing.  I haven't even begun to take it seriously, but maybe if I do, I can learn to be a better writer and let my blog take a new direction, not be limited to stories from the tin can.  In the words of The Wise One, I can write about anything.

I mean, c'mon, I just wrote an entire post about lines.  I'd say it's a good start.

Dude, That's Crazy!

It is always my hope to inspire even one person to live with purpose, passion, and peace.  When you get to be my age, you tend to look back and wonder why you didn't do it sooner.  It has always been my choice; I just didn't realize it until I had years of living under my belt.

But some people make that choice at a very young age.  They are pulled by their passion and nothing gets in their way.  Surrounding myself with passionate people inspires me, and on the final evening of my recent adventure to the Michigan Ice Fest, I found myself not only inspired, but once again wondering why I had waited so long to do this!  One of my many inspirations came from an extraordinary young woman named Zoe Hart.

Zoe Hart, Google Images

Having climbed Opening Curtain during the day with Zoe, I was looking forward to her presentation and learning more about her.  Zoe's personality shines in even the briefest of moments spent in her company, but I didn't learn much about her history or what brought her here, nor did I have the opportunity to ask her my burning question about why she does this, what makes her different? The answer was self-evident in her personality anyway.  Zoe Hart is joyful, passionate, energetic, infectious, strong, supportive…shall I go on?  I could.  So much life emanates from her!  A compact little bundle of passion, Zoe's every word and every movement made me want to reach for the sky and believe I could accomplish anything.

Zoe Hart, Google Images

One of only four American women to have achieved the highest accreditation from the International Federation of Mountain Guides Association, Zoe is one of the few alpinists I met who did not grow up hearing the call to the mountains.  She grew up in New Jersey, and then went to Boston College to study English Literature in what she calls the path to a normal life.  But then her father passed away unexpectedly from a heart attack, and the impact on Zoe pushed her to find her passion.  She went to the mountains, and the rest is history.  Zoe has achieved first ascents on mountains in Switzerland, Scotland, and Oman, and first female ascents in Alaska.  She also set a first ski descent speed record in Pakistan.

Maxime Turgeon and Zoe Hart, Google Images

While climbing in France, Zoe met her future husband, alpinist Maxime Turgeon, and they now live in Chamonix, France with their infant son.  When the relationship was new, Max would take care of Zoe while climbing, but now that the honeymoon is over he serves as her greatest inspiration while pushing her to her limits and insisting she carry her own weight!

Zoe Hart and Sue Nott
Google Images

Zoe's zest for living and pushing herself carries into every aspect of her life.  During her presentation, she spoke of her mentors, particularly Sue Nott, who taught her to forget she's a woman when climbing, but hide fashion magazines in her pack.  Sue died while climbing, as have other partners Zoe has had, and the impact on Zoe is to push herself further to keep their memory alive.

It was fitting that at the end of Zoe's presentation, we were honored by a special guest, Sue Nott's mother, Evi.

Maddie, Rachael, and Evi

Evi had been in our group of women that day, climbing the ice for the first time in 10 years.  I was drawn to her from the moment we met for her grace and warmth.  She is one of those rare people that makes you feel good with just a smile and a kind word.  Her encouragement for

 the rest of us that day was so genuine and uplifting.  She was attending the Michigan Ice Fest for the first time, brought by event organizer Bill Thompson to present the Sue Nott scholarship to Maddie and Rachael for their foray into ice climbing.  Each year, two young girls are awarded a scholarship to attend the ice fest and continue the passion of Sue Nott for female alpinists.

Evi faced a roomful of 450 people and spoke of her daughter with laughter and love.  After giving background on Sue's unstoppable quest for conquering mountains, Evi joked that she had sent Sue to college and begged her to complete those last 4 credits to graduate, when Sue left to climb a mountain with partner Karen McNeill of New Zealand.  Evi's voice dropped then, and it seems everyone in that room knew what was coming next except me.  You could have heard a pin drop as Evi said,

Karen Mcneill and Sue Nott, Google Images

"In May of 2006, Sue and Karen left to climb Mount Foraker in Alaska, and were never seen again".

I thought about that statement.  Never seen again.  Two days after they should have made contact, search crews set out, but other than Sue's backpack, nothing was ever found to explain what happened to these two women.  They just…disappeared.  They were taken by the mountain to forever be a part of it.

I began to understand Evi Nott's strength.  Not because she lives with the uncertainty of what happened to her child, but because even knowing the risks, she allowed her child to go.  It isn't that she just allowed it, but she loved and celebrated her daughter in living a life of passion.  It takes a special kind of love, the kind of love every mother should know, to give her child the gift of following her dream.

In Memory of Sue Nott
Google Images

Evi Nott loved and lost her daughter; but she shares her memories and inspires others to live the way Sue lived.  I am honored to have spent time with Evi, I will never forget her smile, the kind words she spoke to me, and her strength.  And even now, she climbs the ice like a pro; she wasn't even tired when she finished!  I asked her how it felt to climb again, and with her beautiful smile, Evi said,

"It felt great!"

It certainly did.










The final presenter of the weekend was a man whose name I had heard many, many times that weekend.  Everyone was talking about Will Gadd.  As his slideshow began, I quickly found out why.  This guy is crazy!  With each new slide, as Will spoke of climbs all over the world, someone would whisper "Dude, that's crazy".  This video shows just what I mean as Will and Tim Emmett climb the never-before-attempted Helmcken Falls in British Columbia, named by Gadd "Spray On".  The following images, taken from willgadd.com, also give you an idea of how he likes to spend his time defying sanity:

Will Gadd certainly has done things that most of us cannot even imagine.  But as he told story after story with a humorous twist, a theme began to emerge, and Will's message is worth repeating.


There is something in the Alpine world called "The List", which Will displayed on the big screen.  It is his list of all the partners and climbers he has known who have been taken by the mountain.  The List is long.  Will Gadd knows, as any climber does, that he is not on The List mostly because of luck, but also because of something he calls "the positive power of negative thinking".

To an outsider, these accomplished alpinists are crazy; who in their right mind would do this?  But everyone I met at The Michigan Ice Fest, while acknowledging the risk, spoke of safety.  People like Will, and all the other presenters at the ice fest, don't just fly to some remote part of the world and start climbing a mountain.  They spend weeks and months researching routes, equipment, weather, rock and ice conditions, and thousands of other details.  Sometimes, even after all this preparation, Will arrives for an expedition, and negative thoughts creep into his plan.  When this happens, Will aborts the climb.  He has learned the positive power of negative thinking, and its how he stays off "The List".

Every single presenter at the Michigan Ice Fest has thousands of stories to tell.  But they also have educations, experiences, and involvement with the communities who welcome them.  I was surprised to learn of the many volunteer efforts they participate in for the environment, the arts, third-world concerns like education and health care, and countless other ways in which these climbers are aware and involved.  They give back so much of themselves.  Alpinists are larger-than-life people who push themselves mentally, physically, spiritually, and never waste a minute of life.  Are they crazy?  No.  They are passionate, purposeful, and peaceful.  In a word, incredible.  I am so grateful to have met them and heard their words, to have felt, just for a moment, what they feel.  I am a better person for it.

If you've been following my story, I promised that I would give you the "Beta" on the Michigan Ice Fest; the information you need before you go.  It's very simple.  Just GO.  Once you register with Michigan Ice Fest (and I suggest you start checking in September for opening registration) you will be given the information you need.  Everything else will fall into place once you get there.

But the same advice holds true for anything.  What makes you different?  What passion is calling?  You have a choice.  You can either keep on getting through life, even with success, or you can live passionately.  It doesn't even matter what your dream is.  You can restore antique cars, make beautiful quilts, be an outdoor adventurer, a writer, a singer, an artist.  You can build an orphanage, or decide to be a positive person who brightens the lives of those around you.  You can supply clean water in third world countries.  Share your faith, teach children to read or ski down a mountain or start a website.  Invent a product.  Read every classic novel.  Anything.  You don't have to walk away from your family and your job and your responsibilities; you can do both.  But you have to commit to doing it.

I have spent the last year carving pieces of time into my busy life to do what I love most; going outside, and writing about it.  There are many obstacles, but I don't give up trying.  I believe that if I start spending at least some of my time doing what I love, everything good will follow.

Despite what my friends (and even some of my family) think, I'm not crazy because I wanted to climb ice.  The experience taught me that I am on the right track to becoming the person I always believed I would be, I just got sidetracked for 25 years.  I left the Ice Fest feeling strong, peaceful, joyful, and with the sense that I had been in the right place, with good people, and for a reason other than climbing.

This summer, I plan to Kayak in white water.  Dude, that's crazy!

Google Images

The Climb

Planning an adventure always leads to expectations about what the time will bring.  As I prepared to begin my journey to Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore for the Michigan Ice Fest, I had months' worth of fantasies about how the weekend would unfold.  Based on my research, I pictured myself exerting great amounts of physical and mental strength as I climbed a 60m tower over Lake Superior, or possibly hanging by my fingers and gathering the strength to avoid plummeting to my death.

Courtesy Google Images

Neither of those expectations were the least bit realistic.

I also imagined that after climbing all day, I would retire to my motel room to organize my thoughts, jot down some notes, and maybe even write a little bit.  I had brought some simple food along, and pictured myself thawing out after a cold day with a cup of Lipton's Noodle Soup, munching on trail mix, and drinking coffee while I sat in front of my computer.  This, too, proved to be a wrong assumption.

Being a part of the Michigan Ice Fest was nothing like I expected, it was so much better!  Walking over to the Ice Fest headquarters at Sydney's in Munising, Michigan on that cold and clear Saturday morning, I found myself thinking about the climb ahead, and also being excited for the people I would meet and the stories I would hear.

www.michiganicefest.com

The day started splendidly when I arrived and found the process of renting my climbing gear and learning how to use it simple and efficient.  For someone with OCD, I could really appreciate the outstanding organizational skills of the event organizers and the ease with which climbers were prepared for their day.  Once I had my gear and had adjusted my crampons (those metal spikey thingys you put on the sole of your boot) I joined my Intro to Ice Climbing Class for Women and checked out the white board listing our instructors for the day.  Ben Erdmann was on the list.  The same Ben Erdmann who had given a slideshow on Thursday evening and lives in my dream home in Alaska.  I cannot begin to tell you how excited I was to learn that I would be climbing with the guy who happily lives in a tiny cabin in the woods in the middle of nowhere.  It's like we're connected, even if Ben doesn't realize it.




I met the women in my class, and we all boarded the shuttle to the drop-off point.  There were 15 women packed into the van, which took me back to my college days of seeing how many people can fit in a VW Beetle, but no Ben Erdmann.  Where was Ben?  Was he not coming?

On the shuttle ride, I sat nearly on top of a young French woman named Jen who is a graduate student at Purdue.  Already I was hearing a story worth telling.  Jen loves her home country of France and plans to return there to live, but is studying for an advanced degree in Aeronautical Engineering.  Just to be polite, I asked her in which motel she was staying, and she said she'd been sleeping in her car for two nights.  What?  It's been, like, really cold at night!

Evi Nott and Maddie
www.michiganicefest.com

Throughout the day, I also met the other winner of the Sue Nott scholarship, a 17 year old girl named Maddie.  Just like her co-recipient, Rachael, Maddie proclaimed herself to not be a winter person, but adventure wins out over discomfort every time for Maddie.  She talked about her friends and being so ready to go off to college, like any typical teenager, but I knew she was not typical, so I asked her the same question.  She had said none of her friends do the things she does outside, so I asked what makes her different.  Giving the response I was getting used to hearing, she said "I don't know".  I pressed her on the subject, listening while she spoke of pushing herself mentally, tolerating harsh conditions, and reaching goals.  Maddie likes ice climbing because in that moment, nothing else matters.  Her friends think she's crazy.  Yeah, I get that.

I grew tired of trying to explain my question to people, so once we had hiked up the steep hill (I was beginning to really hate that hill) and reached the Opening Curtain, I approached a group of four women and simply asked "Why are you here?"

Gina, Tina, Suzie, and Renee are a fun loving group of gals, but their story is amazing.  Two of these women were diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis in their 40's.  Both women were told by their doctors to give up, take to their beds.  They refused to accept that prescription, and became inspired by a motivational speaker named Lori Schneider, who climbed the Seven Summits after her own diagnosis of MS.  Lori has taken these four women, two with MS and the other two as their caretakers, on adventures beyond anything they've ever experienced.  They have climbed Kilimanjaro!  The Michigan Ice Fest was one more opportunity they seek to push themselves and laugh in the face of challenge.

They do it well.  They never stop laughing and smiling and cheering each other on.  "The Girls" were not just inspiring, but brought much enthusiasm, support and joy to our little group.  I loved them.  Later, when I found them throwing back shots of whiskey at Sydney's, I loved them even more!

Zoe and The Girls

I was still wondering where Ben Erdmann was when our other instructor, Zoe Hart, gathered us around for some tips on climbing.  Zoe is a very energetic and commanding person whose passion is contagious and whose sense of humor is almost painful in its honesty.  As she was explaining the "poop and thrust" method of climbing for women (you had to be there), Ben Erdmann appeared out of nowhere, like a mythical figure of God-like proportions.  Maybe I was the only one who thought that, but he does, after all, live in my dream home in Alaska.

I was anxious to climb.  So were the others, because when Zoe called out "Who wants to go?" several women beat me to it.  I ended up climbing with Ben as my partner.  First he showed me how to configure the double figure-eight knot in my rope, then I learned the verbal signals between climbing partners.

I asked, "Belay on?" to which Ben replied "Belay on."

I said, "Climbing" and Ben said "Climb on".  As I approached the ice, I turned back to him and said "Just like that?  I've never done anything like this before!"  He assured me I could do it, and I assured him I wasn't so sure.   I was arguing with Ben.  I told myself to shut…up

Ben Erdmann and Me!

This was the moment.  I was determined to make it to the top.  I was also scared out of my mind.  I did not believe I could do this.  But Ben Erdmann believed I could, and Zoe Hart, and Jen, and The Girls.  With much encouragement, including Ben telling me I'm a natural at climbing (I bet he says that to all the girls), I found my rhythm and kept going.  Suddenly, I knew the answer to my own question, though I'm not sure I can explain it.  Like everyone else I had asked, I have difficulty putting it into words.   While I was climbing, everything else fell away.  There were no thoughts of bills to pay, schedules to keep, dogs to feed, dinners to prepare.  There was no hurt over losing my job, or feelings of failure, or questions about who I am.  For 30 minutes, I was an ice climber who heard and felt the frozen wall, listening to its voice telling me when to go on and when to rest.  I was part of something big.  It wasn't that I felt small compared to the ice, I just felt like I was part of it.  An incredible peace washed over me and WHAM!  I fell.  Ben had my back; it wasn't until he had stopped my fall on belay that I remembered to call out, feebly, "Falling…"  Ben told me to get right back on the ice, so I did.  I was done arguing with Ben.  I focused on the simplicity of climbing.  Toe, toe, heels down, push.  Wrist flick, stick, pull up.  Over and over and over until I reached the top, surprised at its sudden appearance, and disappointed that the climb was over.

Zoe Hart

I looked down at my climbing partner and called "Take" so Ben would belay me back down.  When my feet touched the ground, I was overcome with emotion.  Zoe Hart walked up to me and said "So?  What do you think?"  Unable to say anything of what I was experiencing at that moment without bursting into tears,  I looked Zoe in the eye and said "I…am…AMAZING!"  She loved it, and was so excited to see a newcomer experience what she herself has felt so many times that she made my words our battle cry for the rest of the day.  Every time a woman finished a climb, we would all hear her call out how amazing she is.

My expectations for the climb were all wrong.  I came here with something to prove.  I wanted to show myself and everyone else that I will not be defeated; that I can and will do something hard and face adversity and climb a mountain and come out on top.  But that's not what the climb was about at all.

Jen and The Girls

Every person on that hill has faced a challenge.  We each have our own story, but we all had to climb on and reach the top.  But it was less about me than it was about the community of strangers who stood beneath me, watching me squeeze my butt cheeks (thanks for the tip, Zoe, it really helped) and believing I could do it.  Because of them, I believed I could do it too; and I did.

Climbing the ice was empowering and humbling at the same time.  I felt strong for having done it, yet I also stood in the shadow of nature's power knowing that I could never match it.  I knew that no matter what was going on in my life, this was something no one could take away.  I did it.  I can do so much more than I thought.  Even though I am almost 50 years old, I found a place where I belong.

I wasn't done yet either.  I climbed again, I hiked with Jen to the next ice formation and took pictures of other climbers.  I introduced Jen to Zoe, who is from New Jersey but married her French climbing partner and lives in France.  She and Jen chatted away in French and it sounded beautiful.  I also whispered to Zoe that Jen had been sleeping in her car.  The funny thing is, we've all done it, when we were young.  But once you become a mom, the thought of a young woman sleeping alone in her car when the temperature is below zero is horrifying; Zoe took Jen in that night and gave her a bed.  Zoe is awesome.

Grimpez sur, Jen!

I did not want the day to end.  I had climbed with a group of amazing women, and Ben Erdmann, who got quite an education that day.  I met Evi Nott, the incredible mom of Sue Nott.  I watched Evi climb, not believing it had been 10 years since she had done this.  But my toes, with their distinct lack of feeling, were telling me it was time to leave the climb.  I may have limped away and left the climb, but the climb will not leave me.  Something inside of me has changed.  Sure, I went home the next day and it was right back to laundry and cleaning and errands; it will be quite some time before I can go on another adventure.  But this feeling remains.  I went, I saw, I felt, I learned, I did, and I was embraced.  I'm one of those crazy people now that does that sort of thing, and I love it!

Be sure to check my next post for the inspiring stories of Zoe Hart and Will Gadd, and to read about an incredible woman, Evi Nott.  My day of climbing may have come to an end, but I did not retire to my room for microwave soup.  My Michigan Ice Fest experience was far from over!

Game On

I used to hate Winter.  Living where I do, that was a bad thing.  As soon as the temperatures dropped below 50 I began preparing for my winter hibernation.  Once we were firmly in the 30's and the snow was starting to fly, I was done with everything for the next five months.  I stayed home.  I ate junk food.  I gained weight.  I was tired all the time, and had no interest in anything.

Then a few years ago, a friend who grew weary of listening to me complain about Winter suggested I get out in it.  She encouraged me to take a walk each day, and as I became accustomed to the weather, she challenged me to embrace the cold outdoors.

I really didn't want to, but I'm a competitive person, so once she told me how great she was at finding ways to be outdoors during the Winter, it was game on.  If she could do it, so could I.

I began by becoming the rink maid.  My husband had built an ice hockey rink - a rather elaborate affair - in our woods, but I rarely ventured down there when my son and his teammates were playing hockey.  I learned how to resurface the ice, and made it my habit to carry the water hose across our property, down a steep hill, hook it up to the water pump, connect the manual Zamboni, and drag it back and forth, back and forth, over the entire rink.  I did this at 9:00 pm, 10:00 pm, 11:00 pm, and sometimes even later.

The Rink at Night

We had the best ice that year, and for several years after.  My work produced a thick glassy surface on which the boys loved to skate.  I was the Rink Maid, and it didn't kill me.

Backyard Ski Jump

Then I added to my game by becoming the official backyard photographer on Snow Days.  All the kids came to our house to snowmobile, build jumps to ski and board off, skate, and play in the snow.  I stayed outside all day, and into the night,  capturing these youthful images for my kids to forever remember.

The following year, I made a vow to add a walk in the woods daily.  We have a neighbor who owns several acres of woods with two ponds, he allows the people who live in the area to walk the paths he keeps clear.  On one of my walks, I discovered a fireplace and majestic chimney, standing alone among the trees.  There was once a cabin that went with the chimney, but it had burned down.  I was captivated with the chimney, and walked down there frequently to sit on its hearth and watch the creatures in the woods.  I still do that.

Chimney in the Woods

My Snowy Backyard

 



As much as I hated to admit it, I found that my friend was right.  The more I made myself go outside during Winter, the more I came to enjoy the special surprises of this cold season.  Walking on the ice at midnight brings an unworldly kind of silence and peace.  If the temperature drops below zero, the ice cracks and pops, and the echoes of it can be heard all the way up to our house.  When it snows, I can hear each flake hitting the ground in the woods.  The air feels cleaner, colors are sharper, and I feel good.

Drummond Island Ledges

Last year, I planned to take my game to a whole new level.  I researched a trip to Drummond Island, in Lake Huron.  The possibilities were endless!  Fossil ledges accessible only by snowshoeing, a snowmobile trail across frozen Lake Huron to Canada, the icy tundra of the rare Alvar region on the island all beckoned me to challenge myself and fully experience Winter.  The unusually warm Winter of 2012 put a damper on my plans, but I went to Drummond Island anyway.  While the weather was mild and there was little snow, it still ended up being a wonderful trip because of the people and places there.  I fell in love with the island, and plan to return.

Drummond Island Alvar Region

But this year, I am going a step further in the game.  Next week, I will travel north to the shores of Lake Superior, where I will join a group of strangers to climb the icy cliffs of the Pictured Rocks.  The last several days at home we have been hit with an arctic blast of cold air, and I have forced myself to go outside each day to acclimate my body to the frigid temperatures.  The weather prediction for up north is cold, which is good, because I really don't want to trust my life to a giant icicle when it is 40 degrees outside.  I am so excited to push myself physically on this challenging quest, embrace Winter, and meet other people whose sanity is as questionable as mine.

Courtesy Google Images

As for my friend who got me started on this with a dare, I am grateful to Donna for pushing me to be a Winter person; however,  I'm pretty sure she has never been ice climbing.  Game on, indeed.