Blog

Rifle Dreams

• August 2012
• Climb Fly Dogs Travel

Suddenly, it’s almost September. I can’t really say it’s a full surprise, but the last year has been a whirlwind. Between writing my second book, getting married, starting a new business, working on an independent film, welcoming new sponsors Evolv and Adrenalin Base, and applying for Mario’s green card (he is from Quebec), not to mention all the usual stuff, things have been even busier than ever.

At first, it seemed like a summer trip to Europe, a pilgrimage that has become part of escaping the oven of Moab summer, was shut down this year, since we’d been wading through the immigration process for 9 months with no end in sight. Those of you who’ve been through this yourselves know that it’s shockingly difficult to get your spouse from another country established in the States, and the threat of deportation looms through the entire process even though you’re officially marrried. If your incompletely bureaucratized spouse leaves the country, there’s a very good chance he/she won’t get let back in.

Apparently in the wake of 9/11, there’s been a rash of Canadians sneaking across the border to take advantage of our health care system, so they’re really cracking down with the immigration control, and let me tell you, they’re not taking any chances.

The final stage of the arduous (and expensive) process is the interview, in which you have to prove you actually want to be married to your alleged spouse and they’re not just secretly paying you off to get a green card, along with a myriad of other odd things. Things fell apart completely when our interviewer asked how we met. Mario launched sentimentally into the story of how I walked into his jump plane in my wingsuit, and then we started climbing and jumping Castleton Tower together, subsequently falling in love….and the interviewer broke him off in mid-sentence.

Quickly I whipped out our wedding photos, of leaping off Parriott Mesa together in veil and top hat, knowing that was a sure thing to prove the legitimacy of our love. She got all flustered and said, “I don’t want to hear about that, people can go rock climbing with anyone, what does that have to do with marriage? We’ve run out of time, and I just can’t approve this right now,” and booted us.

I was stunned and utterly mystified. What do normal people say? They met scrapbooking? WTF? Anyway, after looking at the 20 pages of printed-out facebook photos I left her, full of happy us climbing up cliffs and jumping off them together for years, she must have realized that she was dealing with some very weird people, but legit ones who actually love each other, and she made a stunning about-face in her decision and called our lawyer to say that she was approving Mario’s green card immediately. Phew. I tell you, thinking your husband is going to get deported is not very pleasant.

So anyway, suddenly we can go to Europe and also make it to a base jumping event in China, a government-sponsored event to commemorate the new Aizhai Bridge, and we quickly got visas and plane tickets and packed bags. Summer’s just about over, but we can’t miss this chance to fly a bit.

Though the summer started out as a slightly disappointed waiting game, feeling sure that there was to be no wingsuit flying off of big European cliffs, I found myself gravitating toward Rifle. If there’s one place I love to be in the summer, it’s Rifle. Amazing hard climbing, cooler temperatures, mellow camping, lots of good dogs, a crew of motivated people, and a big, jumpable cliff right next door for rest days. It’s truly hard to beat. And it was almost shocking to realize that for the first time in a year, I didn’t have 10 major (not-rock-climbing) projects on my plate. My book was safely at the publisher’s, in its final round of edits, everything else was as under control as it had been in months, and I was free to be a normal climber again, happily living in my car, climbing every day and hanging out with the Rifle crew! There’s really nothing as satisfying as sitting in the dirt, surrounded by dusty ropes and smelly climbing shoes, is there.

This last month was spent mostly suffering (but loving it!) through weeks of the inevitable Rifle beatdown, as per always, (the standard Rifle penance, it just never changes!), with lots of adventurous days jumping at the Roan Plateau.

In my first year of base jumping, I got hurt at the Roan. It’s an intimidating place with a rugged landing area that’s not suitable for beginners with imperfect canopy skills, as I learned the hard way. After that, I didn’t go back for 2 years. Then, though I felt it was time to get back on the horse, to jump the Roan again and face my fears, it really wasn’t. I made the jump and didn’t get hurt, but I had no fun whatsoever. I was frankly terrified and happy just to survive it without getting injured again, and decided I should just leave the Roan be for a while. Though my skills were way up since my accident, I had been psychologically scarred by the place, and for that reason I knew that honestly it wasn’t safe for me to jump it. I let more years go by, and this summer it finally seemed like time to start jumping the Roan again.

I won’t lie, the first jump was as intimidating as ever, almost even more so. But as I landed softly, perfectly in the center of the small clearing in the midst of rocks and ravines, I realized I now had the experience and the skill to be safe at this site. And it made me see that I didn’t fully believe in myself until I made my peace with the Roan. For a climber, getting hurt at all is a big, really big deal. Even spraining your toe can be a season-ending injury. So to me, getting hurt is a majorly big deal, and I’d never quite let go of my feelings of inadequacy and self-doubt after my crash at the Roan. I was inexperienced when I got hurt, and I paid for my inexperience with an injury. But after that, I never fully allowed myself to be confident in my skills, even when so much time had passed that I should have been. Being humble as a jumper is good, and it will keep you alive. Having too much self confidence is a bad thing, but having too much self-doubt is a liability and can be a danger in itself. I guess that’s just like life.

Spending most of August climbing at Rifle and jumping the Roan, finally feeling comfortable in a place which had intimidated me more than any other, and genuinely being ready to jump there safely, exorcised some deep-seated demons I didn’t consciously realize I was carrying until this summer. But I was, for all this time, since 2008.

Finally letting go of those demons was a breakthrough as big as freeing El Cap in a day, for me.

And finally starting to feel the Rifle flow, just as it was time to leave for the season, also reminded me that no matter what you’re doing, with dedication and commitment you will always get past the struggle and the beatdown phase into the part where you flow, things flow, and everything is working. To the part where it’s all fun. 🙂

So though it’s hard to leave, after the Rifle summer of my dreams, just when I’m feeling as good as I’ve ever felt there, I’m grateful to have had those weeks in paradise and I’m looking forward to flying off the big cliffs with wild friends in Switzerland and France!