I Blame Jon Krakauer
Throughout the ensuing years I have devoured every book on every adrenaline junkie I could find to feed my insatiable addiction, hands trembling at the unthinkable possibility of exhausting the existing supply of nonfiction narratives, bios and autobiographies of climbers on every continent. Assuaged only by the probability that each climbing season would bring with it the publication of new adventurers, I felt simultaneously ashamed by my vicarious fascination with their sometimes-tragic outcomes.
My obsession started with Everest. I won’t say why, because it’s obvious. Mountaineers like Reinhold Messner, Ed Viesturs, Aracelli Segarra and Stephen Venables were followed with intensity, as I marked the climbing seasons in my calendar and watched the online expedition coverage like a Giants fan at the Super Bowl.
Spanish climber, Aracelli Segarra
In 2000, at the height of my addiction, I found myself conversing with high-altitude expert Peter Hackett about the effects of oxygen deprivation on the brain. As an artist well familiar with and unafraid to swim below the surface of conventional thought processes, O2 depletion was a subject I could sink my teeth into, if not an integral clue to making my esoteric quest a bit more terrestrial.
That EMT certification I completed ‘just becuz’ helped with the technical jargon; but as my craving intensified, soon it wasn’t enough to simply read the accounts of who climbed what, where and how high, nor was it sufficient to demystify their physiological components. It seemed nothing would cure my addiction; I had to know WHY. Who were these people and why did they do it?
As I tirelessly exhausted every icy summit from Denali to Kilimanjaro, I made my way down through the desert to the rock walls of El Capitan & Moab, riveted by Aron’s Ralston’s 2004 account of his plunge off Utah's Horseshoe Canyon, thinking only a Scorpio (or perhaps an Aries) could find oneself confronted by and okay with contemplating the life or death inevitability of amputating one's own arm.
As I tirelessly exhausted every icy summit from Denali to Kilimanjaro, I made my way down through the desert to the rock walls of El Capitan & Moab, riveted by Aron’s Ralston’s 2004 account of his plunge off Utah's Horseshoe Canyon, thinking only a Scorpio (or perhaps an Aries) could find oneself confronted by and okay with contemplating the life or death inevitability of amputating one's own arm.
American Climber, Aron Ralston- Selfie (Aron Ralston)
Mountaineer and Filmmaker, David Breashears
Actor Jake Gyllenhaal to portray Scot Fisher in 2015’s “Everest”
Climbing is an art as painting is an art, as music and mathematics and diplomacy and empathy and intuition are arts, and we are all gifted at something.
I have chosen the path of Existentialism – “condemned to be free,” so rather than mourn the things that are beyond reach, I will use 2015 to celebrate and honour the uniqueness and differences in each of us and consider the possibility that it may be the only way humanity can unite as one (at least in my mind).
Oh yes, I almost forgot…the resolutions keep coming!
Resolution No. 11: While I appreciate the thought…I promise to never post Youtube homages of my work on my blog or Facebook page.
Resolution No. 12: Actually, I also promise to try to keep my Facebook page quiescent…because let’s face it, ‘all things must pass’…
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