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Every year I head to the Outer Banks of North Carolina with my friends for a week of fishing and fellowship.
We just returned from our trip and I made sure to do two things while I was there- catch lots of fish and capture lots of photos. There is a post in the works about the fishing, but in the meantime I wanted to share these two series I captured of some local surfers:
A few weeks ago we decided to climb the tallest mountain in Arizona- Mount Humphreys (elevation: 12,637 feet)…
It is winter, so what better time? We like cold and we like snow and I hope we like fierce wind, because that’s what we’re going to get.
***
My alarm goes off way too early. I’ve been in Phoenix (elevation 1,117 feet) for a few days and so I hit the road at an hour that I don’t want to remember to meet up with my friends. I know gaining over 11,000 feet of elevation in one day has bad idea written all over it, but that’s okay. I’m going anyway. So, I drive the two hours to Flagstaff, watching the sunrise as I cruise up the highway. In the early morning light the sky is a bright blue. Naturally, the only clouds are sitting right on top of the San Fransisco Peaks and Mount Humphreys.
Jon, Nick, Ryan, and Josh are waiting for me at the ranger station in Flagstaff. We get our back country permits and head to the local ski area, Snowbowl, where the trailhead is.
Packs are packed and we sign the trailhead register. And hit the trail, er, slopes. I say slopes because you have to cut across one of the ski slopes to get to where the trail enters the woods.
As always, I instantly fall behind because I am taking photographs. It’s kind of what I do.
The temperature is maybe in the twenties and we’re taking our time. Easing into things. Having fun. Goofing off. Enjoying the day.
Jon and Nick lead the way. They’ve done this hike in winter before. Following a snow covered trail through the forest isn’t always the easiest thing. Eventually, though, we come to the edge of the trees. The route from here heads straight up the side of the mountain. Not too steep, but steep enough to make you work for it. We take a short break, but on our crampons, and start to make our way up the open slope. It is here that Josh tells us he is turning back. He’s been battling some sickness and knows that doing this climb will do him in. He says he’s going to take his time heading back to the truck and just enjoy the day.
We continue to make our way up. Surrounded on both sides by trees, occasionally skirting in and out of them. The snow is crusted over enough to support our weight most of the time. It isn’t totally iced over, which makes things a little easier. You still have to test your steps, walk lightly, otherwise you’ll break through and be in snow up to your knee before you realize what is happening.
***
Eventually the trees give way to the sky and the top half of the mountain is exposed. The landscape is rocks, boulders, snow, and sky. The wind picks up as soon as we exit the cover of trees.
At just above 11,000 feet, the wreckage of a U.S. Army Air Force B-24 Bomber that crashed into the mountain on September 15, 1944 is partially visible in the snow. It is kind of interesting to think about. The parts and pieces of this plane have been on the mountain for almost 70 years.
The wind is fierce. The wind chill is below zero. Probably well below zero. The only thing that makes it tolerable is the fact that the sun is shining. If it weren’t for the wind I would probably be in short sleeves. Physically, I am doing much better than I thought I would. My breathing is much better than I anticipated at this elevation. I remind myself to keep drinking water so that I don’t get dehydrated. I remind myself to keep eating as well so I don’t crash. We all decide to stop for a lunch break so we can make the last push to the first of many false summits with high energy. Finding a little spot out of the wind it is almost pleasant. Jon makes some hot chocolate for all of us to share. Ryan pulls out a Snack Pack chocolate pudding and doesn’t share. He’s old, though. Really, he’s like an 80 year old man trapped in the body of a 29 year old. It’s true. Just ask him.
We begin to make the push towards the ridge. Our pace slows. The elevation and the wind play a major factor. I want to take breaks every twenty feet or so. My legs are sore. Other than that I feel great. I start to set little goals for myself. It is a game I play a lot when I’m climbing mountains- make it to that rock right there, okay now that tree, good job now push for the ridge. It is good to set goals. Sure, the ultimate goal is to summit the mountain, but if you don’t have smaller goals along the way it is too easy to lose focus and get discouraged. So, I make my way towards a small pile of rocks. And then towards a beautiful formation of icicles. It makes the climb seem easier and it isn’t long before we gain the ridge.
From where we reach the ridge, we are a little over a quarter mile and 400 vertical feet from the summit. There are three false summits between us and the top of the mountain. We check the time and discuss whether or not we should push on. We’re only 1/4 mile away! The wind is whipping us as we stand there. Everyone is tired. The almost 11,000 feet of elevation I have gained today is finally catching up. We decided to head towards the peak and see how our progress is. If it looks like we will have enough time to finish the climb and get back down to the truck by dark then we’ll do it. If not, we’ll turn around at the next false summit.
We are only a couple hundred yards and a couple hundred feet from the summit of Mount Humphreys. We are taking another break. And then we are turning around. We’ve made the decision.
Some people would hate turning around so close to the top. We, on the other hand, don’t really care.
I learned a long time ago that it isn’t about reaching the top or finishing the trail or anything like that. It is about the adventure you have along the way and the memories you make.
Today we had grand adventures and made fun memories with good friends.
So, now instead of pushing those last hundred feet we are going to turn around and head down towards the saddle between Humphreys and its neighbor, Agassiz Peak. From there we will drop down into the Snowbowl and follow the slopes back to the parking lot where Josh is waiting with the truck that will take us to pizza and beer.
As we head towards Agassiz Peak, she looks beautiful in the late afternoon light. The view already makes me want to come back here and climb again. Hopefully in winter. Hopefully with the same friends. Hopefully without the wind.
I remember watching the events unfold on the televisions in the Reno Airport. I’d just come off a 2 1/2 week backpacking trip along the John Muir Trail in California and was on my way to Austin, Texas, for a friend’s wedding.
An early morning flight left me spending the night in the airport, so I watched the same ten news clips again and again and again. All night.
The waters rose and then the levees broke and then the city of New Orleans flooded.
It was six weeks before the waters receded from much of the city.
It was six months before I headed down there with two other guys to lend a helping hand. February, 2006.
The first day there we met Nancy. It was the first time she’d returned to her home in six months. We would spend the next week carrying everything out of the house and putting it beside the street. First the household items- furniture, clothes, appliances, books, photographs… Then, the house itself- the carpet, sheetrock, fixtures… Down to the framing. When her neighborhood flooded the water rose eight feet. Just below the address beside the front door. When we opened the kitchen cabinets, the glasses were still full of floodwater.
Much of the first day we helped Nancy go through her belongings and salvage what she could. She ended up with one box full of possessions. Of memories.
Next door rescue teams had to cut a hole in the roof of the house so people could escape. In the house across the street someone wasn’t so lucky. An old man drowned.
***
By the end of the week the house had been gutted. The only thing left inside was the framing and a few warped floorboards. The next stage was for the mold remediation crews to come in and kill all of the molds that were growing and festering.
It was all more than Nancy could handle. Her entire life was sitting out by the curb, waiting for the collection crews to come haul it away. She left by the end of the week and headed back to Houston to stay with relatives.
We returned home after that week feeling like we’d accomplished something. It wasn’t much in the grand scheme of the city, but it was a step. And every step counted. Every one helped. We were hopeful for a city that had pride. They had heart and they would rebuild.
***
Six months later -a year after Hurricane Katrina and the floods- I returned to New Orleans once again. This time with ten high school kids. We were there once again to lend a hand. Help out where we could. I was surprised (although I probably shouldn’t have been) when they sent us out to do the same thing I’d done six months earlier- clean out and gut houses. This time things were worse than we’d found them in February. We went into houses that had been closed up for a full year. Some of them still had standing water in them. I wondered if it was even worth trying to salvage the house. But, we did what we were asked and helped how we could. And the homeowners were grateful. And that’s what mattered.
One evening we drove by Nancy’s house and I was surprised to see a FEMA trailer parked in the front yard. Why hadn’t she moved back in and why wasn’t sh enjoying her home? I think in my mind, I figured that once a house was gutted the process of putting it back together would be easy. The hard part was done. The wood would dry out. The mold would be killed. New sheetrock and flooring would be put in and that was that. Seemed simple enough.
But, it was -and still is- a slow process and it takes time. In my mind it was just the one house that needed fixing so that one woman could return to the life she’d lived before. In reality it was an entire city. Eighty-five percent of the city flooded when the levees broke. 1,836 people were confirmed dead throughout the Gulf Coast as a result of the hurricane. Damages totaled $81.2 billion. Those are hard numbers to swallow.
***
Sometimes I wonder how Nancy is. How long it took her to return home and rebuild her life. Where she is now. I wonder the same about many people in New Orleans. Was it really five years ago that I watched it unfold on the televisions at the airport in Reno, Nevada?
A lot of work has been done in that time. A lot has been rebuilt. But, there is still a lot left too.
As with most catastrophes, it is easy to forget once the next big story breaks. Let’s not forget, though. Let’s remember. We can still help. We can still make steps.
For more information on a few steps that can be taken: