From the Heart
- November 2010
- Hi Steph Simple Living Climb Dogs Travel
Steph,
Last night, after seeing a photo of the back of your pickup, I cried softly to myself as tears born of happiness and relief gently rolled down my cheek. The fog had lifted so suddenly that it was a wonder how it had been there in the first place. Pursuing a simple life had, in an instant, sparked into a path of clarity on a whole new level. Before I dive any deeper let me back up a bit and share how I arrived at this point.
My name is Chris and we’ve crossed paths twice. Both times were so brief that I’d be completely surprised if you remembered. The first instance we met was during 2003 in Yosemite. At the time I was working at a gear shop in California and was invited to a dealer event held up in Tuolumne. You were there as one of the ambassadors. Several memories from the trip stand out to me. There was techno blasting from a van’s speakers so loud our camp was visited twice by a power trippin’ ranger (you know, the only type it seems) in less than an hour. To this day, Fatboy Slim’s album You’ve Come a Long Way Baby still reminds me of mixing margaritas with Gatorade. I’ve lost count of how many “gatoritas” I’ve had since then. But the thing that stuck with me the most was, of all things, Fletch. I had just finished putting the last few things on my plate for dinner when Fletch barked, spooking me to where I lost control of the plate and I dumped food everywhere. You scolded Fletch while I sheepishly salvaged what I could of the meal. I was wound up so tight and self-conscious being around lots of other people that I hadn’t truly relaxed yet during the trip. With one bark, Fletch told me “Relax, have fun, don’t take things so seriously”… as you well know, dogs are amazingly intuitive. And for the rest of the trip, I took the advice from Fletch. I’m not a very outgoing person and will always have a hard time with large groups of people. If you look up introvert in the dictionary it has my photo next to it. But any time I find myself start to get stressed over such things, I simply remember what Fletch had to say.
The second time I ran into you was on the last stretch of Royal Arches, just below the rap route. I reintroduced myself and told you where we had met. We chatted briefly and I asked you if there were any highlines set up in the valley. You said no, but recommended someone to call and gave me his number. That memory stayed with me because of the kindness and sincerity you offered to me, even though I was pretty much a stranger. It is an attitude that I try to carry with me not only in climbing, but also throughout life in general. That day you reminded me that all friends start out first as strangers.
In 2004, a friend of mine was killed while serving in Iraq. His death found me looking hard at a lot of things and sparked a change in my life. I was still working at the gear shop, at this point hating both where I was at physically and emotionally. My soul did not belong in the city. After Alex’s death, I told myself to start making the most of every day, to live simply and to follow my passions. I quit work at the gear shop, moved into the back of my truck and headed to Joshua Tree. Several months later I started working for Outward Bound. Life was simple, pure and passionate. Over the years though, I let myself slowly get sucked back into the mentality of worrying about money and a “real future” as my parents gently put it. This year it blinded me fully. Instead of returning to Outward Bound I switched gears to a much different job. About a month ago I woke up and realized that in my pursuit of financial stability I had successfully isolated myself from all that I love and replaced it with nothing I needed. I was surrounded by a fog of despair and wondered where my passion had gone.
Last night I got online and decided to find some photos of one of my favorite places to climb, Indian Creek. Maybe that would cheer me up. The first photo that popped up turned out to be an image of you which led me to your website. Instantly I saw the tab titled “Simple Living” as if it was there just for me. Something inside me stirred as I scrolled down to a post on truck camping and decided to give it a look. When I read your words about how you had set your truck up and why, that’s when it hit me. I had taken a simple life fueled by passion and complicated it beyond reason. It’s amazing how sometimes you don’t truly appreciate what you have until it’s no longer around. With that realization, the tears soon followed.
I’m not sure who’s looking forward to returning to Indian Creek this fall more – me, or my dog. Either way, life will be simple, pure and passionate. I will be coming “home” in many ways. Maybe some day our paths will cross again and I can share the longer version of my story with you. But if not, know that your actions and words have given me much… and for that I am grateful.
Sincerely,
Chris
Dear Chris,
Thank you for your kind and touching letter. I’m really sorry to hear about your friend Alex. And thanks for bringing me back some more great memories of Fletch 🙂
Maybe you’re down at the creek right now….I hope so!
🙂 Steph
