February, 2002
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| Three Daughters One Day | ||||||||||||||||||
| by Ray Purcell | ||||||||||||||||||
| There's something comforting about sorting out your climbing gear.� Sure, just like there's comfort food there are comfort activities, in this case gear sorting.� My ritual is to wait until Monday evening.� This prolongs the afterglow of a really good weekend trip and helps me recover for the inevitable Monday madness.� I can reimmerse myself in the memory of the day climbing.� I come home, put my bicycle up on the hook, and go in to pour myself a pint of Guinness- 58 degrees, of course.� Then the dog and I go back out to the garage; I turn on All Things Considered, and then spill out the contents of my pack.� The dog waits until I'm distracted and goes for my beer. | ||||||||||||||||||
| Sitting on the concrete floor and surrounded by pieces of nylon webbing, carabineers, wedges of aluminum on wire cable, and empty Nutter-Butter wrappers I am once again at peace.� So centered am I that it's possible to ponder a news story about the seeming enigma of the life-and-times of John Henry Abbott, the prisoner and celebrated author who committed suicide in his cell.� But I'm grateful that my mind turns it's back on Abbott's book, In To The Belly Of The Beast, and begins to reflect on Two For the Summit- My Daughter, The Mountains, And Me by Geoffrey Norman. | ||||||||||||||||||
| My friend Scott and I had gone climbing last June and were in The Bookie Joint bookstore in Mammoth Lakes looking for some tent literature- or in-tents literature.� I stumbled on Norman's book and was immediately intrigued by the title.� While I love epic mountaineering literature like the White Spider and Touching The Void, I had been craving a story about adventure in the context of parents and their children- and I don't mean near death experiences in home schooling. | ||||||||||||||||||
| There's something very unique in the healthy relationship between a father and daughter and Norman illuminates this like a medieval scripture or hand calligraphy of the Koran.� What begins as a father's fledging interest in climbing, quickly becomes an enriching bond between father and daughter as they discover the sport together.� If Norman's insights had occurred in the setting of bowling or golf it would have been my profound loss. | ||||||||||||||||||
| My having come across this book came at a time that I was particularly lamenting the loss of time with my daughter, Courtney.� She was about to turn 19, had started college, and was working part-time.� Quality time together had become as fleeting as a good nights sleep.� But then that's the way of it, or the bitter sweet of it.� Parents pour a foundation for their kids, you frame the house together, but ultimately the finish work they do on their own- they may even knock out a wall or two.� I couldn't think of an equally appropriately climbing analogy. | ||||||||||||||||||
| It's like the poem by Kahil Gibran, "if you love something let it go".� Of course I always thought Kahil Gibran must have been an ascetic hermit with a pet rat.� But I have learned to be patient- well no, I?m impatient and anxious and now I?m just exhausted from it.� I was just starting to shake off the too short days of winter funk when Courtney brought up our annual father daughter trip.� Coincidently, she was about to quit her job to spend more time with school.� Well� BOO YAH! | ||||||||||||||||||
| Now I'd starve fast as a salesman, but I poured on a pitch that would be the envy of a time-share condo salesperson.� "Let's climb the West Ridge of Mount Conness, we could backpack in and take a few days to enjoy it".� "Oh yeah, and we should do a little training once and a while, I"d be happy to help." | ||||||||||||||||||
| One day, in her typical off hand sort of way, Courtney mentioned to me that her friend Paloma was interested in climbing.� Now typically no one has to twist my arm very hard to go climbing, and maybe that makes me easy, but unless there's a commitment I just can't worm out of or the person gives me a bad feeling I'm ready.� | ||||||||||||||||||
| The prospect of taking Paloma along was particularly intriguing since I first meet this kid when she joined Team Purcell for the Volkslauf.� This is a Marine Corps Reserve obstacle course run and fundraiser for Toys for Tots.� The Volkslauf is locally regarded a hard person course of muddy trenches, hills, and belly crawls over a 10 Km route; and Paloma just threw her self at it.� I didn't know it at the time but Paloma not only didn't typically run any serious distance but she had never run anything competitively.� Not having any particular expectations at the outset regarding team performance I was in absolute awe at the way Paloma gutted out the best of the worst with out complaint.� When we all crossed the finish arm-in-arm she joyfully exclaimed she'd never do it again but she was clearly proud of herself. | ||||||||||||||||||
| Courtney and Paloma had selected a Saturday to go and I planned to take them to the Kern River Slabs above Kernville.� I thought we were set when Courtney asked if we could switch to Sunday because Jennifer really wanted to come.� Now Jennifer has been over for dinner a few times and gets really annoyed if you stick your bitten tortilla chip back in the salsa or if the coke bottle touches the rim of the glass you've drunk from.� I decide to keep an open mind and say "more's better".� | ||||||||||||||||||
| I guess I should have been concerned about how Jennifer and Paloma would respond once I got them on the rock, but what really made me anxious was being in the car with three women.� Courtney has been pretty much who she is around me and not accustomed to packaging too much for daddy.� I realized that if they all took her lead I was at real risk of becoming one of the girls, and slipping into the fearsome and dark realm of the free range, ferial, and unabashed female.� If any of you has never experienced this it is best passed through cautiously, like long stretches of A4 aid climbing.� One false placement and your male ego will be dashed on the rocks like a tossed haul bag.� | ||||||||||||||||||
| It was a fine sunny day with startlingly blue sky as we pulled into park at the base of Kern Slab.� Fortunately, the slab isn't too imposing a pile of rock and if there was any fear it wasn't noticeable, or I was oblivious.� After sorting out the loads we all tromped up the switchbacks to the base of some perfect Southern Sierra granite.� Once breathing calmed and hearts rates slowed I stepped into mountain guide mode and worked through the basics; safety, how to fasten a harness, knots, and double check, double check, double check. | ||||||||||||||||||
| Jennifer was up first and Paloma was on deck at the bottom of a fun and easy left facing book.� Aside from the usual foot scuffing, Jennifer climbed sure and steady without the Elvis shaking leg I remember having when I started climbing- ok still do.� Paloma also climbed well with a more typical amount of visible apprehension.� After a bite to eat I set up at the bottom of Claustrophobia Crack. | ||||||||||||||||||
| Claustrophobia Crack is a deep crack that you can totally climb into; it?s also a great place to work on your first chimneying moves since there's a ramp at the bottom so it never feels exposed.� The exciting part for most new climbers are the face moves off the deck over a rounded slab.� Palmoa made the step around with encouragement from Courtney and Jennifer, but lost her steam when she saw the rest of the route.� "It's ok the climb isn't going anywhere, it'll be here when your ready." | ||||||||||||||||||
| Jennifer was the real surprise of the day.� I watched her trepidiously step out and around on the on the slabby face, then get into a purposeful rhythm ascending the crack.� From the distance it was hard to tell but there was a look on Jennifer's face that was, well, incredulous.� It was as though the climbing shoes were somehow enchanted, imbuing gravity defying superpowers.� I didn't see her for a while after she stepped into the crack but slack continued to come in and then I saw her face pop up.� She was looking serious, but with near perfect style she pulled over onto the ledge.� As she stood there a smile began to spread across her face that threatened to swallow her head.� Then she opened her mouth and let out a war whoop that echoed off of Split Mountain and attracted the attention of a circling hawk. | ||||||||||||||||||
| Courtney was last and cleaned the route.� This is one of the first places that I took the kids climbing when they were little, so it's kind of special.� In fact this is where my son Sean, did his first lead.� I have to admit to indulging in fatherly pride as I watched her smoothly start to ascend.� For a moment she stood at the stance at the base of the crack, then started up to the left over a slabby variation of a harder grade.� There was something different in her climbing.� It occurred to me that my little girl was climbing with the confident grace of a young woman. | ||||||||||||||||||
| We stopped for dinner at That?s Italian in Kernville.� I was eating fettuccini with game sausage in a spicy sauce while trying to be charming if necessary and invisible if possible.� I faded in and out of the conversations about desirable male attributes, and the precisely choreographed dance between the males and females of their acquaintance, while I pondered parenthood.� I guess I was trying to sum it all up, make sense of it.� The bottom line is that parenting is a terrifying endeavor at worst and an epic adventure at best.� Early on we swear we will never be our parents.� But they, or he or she, are our most powerful role models; and really have we turned out so wanting?� The rest of parenting is on the job training, and we take our best shot.� At some point we have to loose the arrow and hope that it will track straight and true.� If each of these young women were my own daughter I could be no less proud or pleased.�� February, 2002 |
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