what a week!

Posted on November 25, 2013 by Sara

i step off the airplane and into the sun. i get asked to put my cell phone away by a familiar accent as i cross the tarmac and enter the sliding glass doors leading to customs, only to realize that i have completely unopened, delicious snacks from portland still carefully snuggled between books and planners and pens in my baby blue corduroy jansport backpack. damn it.

i hate giving up food at international borders. are my dried mangoes and coconut covered cashews really going to cause the end of the world on the other side of this security gate? highly unlikely. are they even going to check the blonde-haired, blue-eyed american girl’s bag? highly unlikely. but alas, i give up the snacks (except the portland chocolate bars and coffee i have brought as gifts).

of course they don’t check anything. i don’t even think they looked at my face while stamping my passport. i miss those dried mangoes already.

the good news is that i am now in a country where it’s hot enough to grow mangoes right now. and in a town with a mango tree in the neighbor’s front yard. what luck!

it has been almost a week since ryan stood embarrassingly waiting for me in the airport with a sad, but cute attempt at a sign reading “sara aka possum” being held by a stuffed platypus puppet. (possum is a common term of endearment in aussieland. their possums are a lot cuter than ours.)

we immediately loaded my bags into his brand new used ute (truck) and hit the bitumen (pavement) for the hour or so drive from brisbane back to ryan’s hometown on the gold coast.

palm beach (or palmy as the locals call it) is your quintessential beach town. salty air and sunshine. surf clubs and local pubs. run down streets lined mostly with one story brick homes that look like they belong back in the 1950s. anywhere you stand, you are always only a block or two away from water. even if it’s just a manmade canal that leads to a salty river and into the ocean.

straightaway, i get the hometown tour. complete with a bite at a cute main street brekky (breakfast) joint, drive through neighboring suburbs to check out local surf spots, and steak on the barbi (barbecue) with ryan’s family, the grants. a family that has an old car that has been passed from son to son to son and ended up as a memento in the backyard. yep, dad, you would love them.

jet lag? what’s that! i think my jam-packed day one might have been ryan’s attempt to make up for the fact that i lost an entire day on my trip across the world.

but then it didn’t stop.

the next day we packed up the truck with camping and surfing essentials and headed to the hippie capital of eastern australia, byron bay.

by midday, we were drinking beers at a beachside pub with ryan’s aunt and her new hubbie. by late arvo (afternoon), we were sitting out amongst the waves trying our best to hang ten. by evening, we were enjoying an amazing meal and live music at the locals only spot. by nightfall, we were curled back up in our natural habitat…a tent on the ground. what a day two.

the next morning, we found a cute restaurant a few minutes out of town since the traffic on the two lane road going back into downtown byron was at a standstill. we lounged on comfy couches drinking our coffee (after finally figuring out that my preferred drink order is a “flat white” in australian coffee-ology), eating our tasty breakfast sangas (sandwiches), and allowing ourselves to drift deep into meandering conversation. ahh the good life.

then onto the lighthouse, the most easterly point of australia. what a view.

oh, and i saw my first wallaby!

then back to the sea for a surf.

then back to the ute (what a beaut) to drive home. sunned and ready for an afternoon nap.

now you might be thinking, sara, don’t you have to do work? and yes, that is exactly what i did on day four.

ryan and i went our separate ways. i stared at my computer and caught up on everything i had been pushing aside. and ryan went to the garage to fix up his truck. it needs a bit of love before we take it on our adventure up north along the east coast and over west to port hedland (aka the middle of nowhere).

but there could be worse things than working in an office like this… (and eating carrot cake for breakfast.)

and then came friday night.

it was ryan’s friend’s birthday party so i was put on the hot seat. meeting the gang. i wanted to make a good first impression, and well, after taking a horrendous spill off my bike and onto the asphalt, i am pretty sure they will never forget the night we met. and currently, my elbow and knee are having a hard time forgetting as well.

please note that yes, i was indeed sober when i ate shit. and please note that yes, later that night i was able to ride my bike home with ease after quite a bit to drink.

day five. hmm. day five did not start until noon. you give up your day for the night sometimes, and friday night left us both a bit worked. however, we recovered just in time to wish ryan’s mom heather a happy birthday and meet steph’s (dale’s (ryan’s brother) girlfriend) mom who was in town from melbourne.

after a quick afternoon stumptown coffee on the back deck, it was time to head back into my couch and television cocoon. see you when day six comes along.

wake up and head to the suburb of burleigh for the sunday arts and craft market. a quaint little row of tents along the beach sporting the usual sorts of knickknacks, clothing, and tasty treats.

after a nice morning stroll, a couple coffees, and a sugarcane juice with ginger, we took a drive with the windows down and tunes up through the valley and took in the rock pools.

then we headed home and hopped into the “skis” for a “paddle.” i was unsure of how my paddling skills would be, but as i sat down in the super skinny, hard-to-balance, semi-kayak-ish boat with ryan’s dad gordon watching from the deck, i was fine.

actually, i was pretty good.

we paddled out of the canal behind gordon’s house and into the river. the salty river. it is still so weird to me.

there are a lot of things that are still a bit weird to me here. like jumping into the left side of the truck and then proceeding to stay in the left hand lane when turning left. like hearing every word shortened to something like brekky or skatey and not seeing a baby in sight. like being the one who has the strange accent. like questioning if i am going to die when i see a massive spider chilling near my open suitcase.

oh, and signs like this…

but i am loving it. and making friends with lots of really cute dogs. and getting a healthy glow (even with SPF 50 slathered on everywhere).

this morning, we woke up at 6am and had a surf before i set up my patio office and began to tackle my monday to-do list.

not too bad at all…

it’s time to go with aussie m(a)n.

Posted on November 17, 2013 by Sara

it was 3am on monday, november 11, 2013. exactly two years prior, i was arriving in portland for the first time in my life. cari the blue cavi packed full to the brim and me unprepared for the adventures and magic that would unfold over the next 24 months.

they tell you to make a wish when the clock strikes 11:11, and believe in superstitions or not, arriving on 11/11/11 must have shifted the universe in my favor because all my wishes keep coming true. wishes i didn’t even know i had.

two years later, on that same fateful day, i sat staring at my computer. flipping between delta and expedia and southwest and the australian government department of immigration and border protection tourist visa information page.

after a conversation with colby and then one with ryan, there was a new adventure brewing. the butterflies in my stomach were starting to emerge from their cocoons. my current vagabonding was not even over. i was in vegas prepping to head to portland for a quick check-in and then off to bishop for thanksgiving and then onto san francisco for a week with three of my favorite women (aunt viv, ruthie, and aunt pupsi) and then home for a cold, hopefully white, chicago birthday, christmas, and new year’s eve.

but then, in my sleepy stupor, i found myself clicking “apply now.” ten minutes and A$20 later, i had a 12 month tourist visa to australia.

shit.

those damn butterflies were having a wwf smackdown inside my belly. was i just tired? was i sick? what the hell was my stomach doing? it is just a visa. it was just $20. i could easily change my mind.

and then, in some sort of out-of-body experience, i was clicking purchase on a delta flight: LAX > SYD > BNE.

fuck.

now don’t get me wrong, i am very excited for this chance to get to know a new, wonderfully enchanting country, so a few of you are probably wondering why the dramatic build up. sara, you always do this. fly by the seat of your pants. but do you fly 7,286 miles to the other side of the world? where it is actually already tuesday?

what most people don’t perhaps know about me is that i am surprisingly anal when it comes to planning. despite my current trend of leaving flights until the very last minute and not alerting my family that i’ll be back in chicago until i need a ride home from the airport, i am a organization freak. i write down things in my planner and create endless lists and will organize your emails or photos into perfectly segregated and color coated folders if you let me.

while average americans spend months researching and planning before they book their once-in-a-lifetime trip to australia, i was giving myself seven days. in exactly one week, i would boarding a plane to the land down under.

bloody hell.

i usually consult at least seven friends and family members before making a big decision like spending up to three months in a foreign country. i talk it out in a million and one ways. weigh the pros and cons. let them play devil’s advocate.

but this time, i didn’t.

now, if you have been keeping up with my blog, you already know why. if you have no idea why i would spontaneously spend an absurd amount on a plane ticket to a foreign country, give up my southwest a-list status, and miss the holidays with my friends and family, i’ll give you one guess. (and then you should probably read my last few blog posts.)

although i get a lot of slack for my inexplicable nature to end up in new cities due to romance, it has served me well and given me a life that will make screenplay writer jonathan west rich one day.

chase a boy to ann arbor and have an amazing educational experience worth every penny of my student loans. chase a boy to grand rapids and build a resume full of respectable real life experience. chase a boy to portland and take the leap into location independent self-employment. yet all these instances were the same: date boy for a year or two, decide to move somewhere new, end relationship almost immediately after arriving in the new setting.

never before have i chased a boy that i have only known for a month to a country on the other side of the globe on a whim (and a hunch). i think my odds are way better with this method.

yesterday i got my hair cut in portland. figured i would clean up a bit after living in the woods for two months and before meeting a bunch of aussie strangers. the stylist was indulging in my silver-screen-worthy tale and adding her own chapter about “her aussie.” (it seems everyone has their own what i am now calling aussie-ism.) she reflected that there is just something about them. this “rugged manliness with a soulful interior” that just captivated her from the moment she met him.

i guess…

we are crazy.

or maybe just i am crazy.

either way, at 6am this morning my buddy luca picked me up.

we loaded my suitcase into his trunk taking bets on if i would have to relocate a thing or two into my carry-on to meet the 50 lb. weight limit. he guessed 45, 47 tops. i said 52. turns out it was 52.5 lb., but she let me check it anyways. with all my traveling, my right arm has become a pretty accurate luggage scale.

awhile ago someone gave me a little booklet about the size of an index card that was titled travel. it is full of quotations about exactly that. it has been in my backpack ever since, but i rarely open it and read it. the other day i did.

“journeys, like artists, are born and not made. a thousand differing circumstances contribute to them, few of them willed or determined by the will…” – lawrence durrell

one plain bagel with cream cheese and tall blonde roast with cream later, and i am sitting on a flight to los angeles due to “a thousand differing circumstances” not one of which i would change. charly bliss belting out blondie in my ears while my tummy butterflies flutter a dance only my gypsy heart can understand.

see you in the outback.

guest blog: if this plaid shirt could talk

Posted on November 6, 2013 by Sara

sometimes i think about all the things i would do if i went and adventured in a foreign country for a year unemployed. but, after hearing all the stories ryan had to tell from his year abroad in north america, i don’t think i will ever be able to match such an epic collection of tales. i might be able to make some money writing his biography one day though. i think it will be titled, if this plaid shirt could talk: the tale of one unbridled bloke.

i have never known someone to get into so many sketchy situations and come out alive, but i’ve learned it’s apparently a grant family trait to always land on your feet. and this little filly is glad that he does.

in honor of ryan’s recent departure from the states back to australia, i am posting a special guest blog. written by the one and only ryan grant.

– – – – –

If I had a blog it would go a little something like this:

I’ve seen bears, heard cougars, hit deer, chased off coyotes, been bitten by spiders, stung by bees, had stare downs with venomous snakes while belaying, and stood in dog poo.

I’ve slept on the ground, in cars, on roofs, in hammocks, in tents, in the snow, in the dirt, on the ground, on couches, on cliff faces, on summits, in the occasional cheap hotel room, and oh, i forgot to mention on the ground.

I’ve marked my territory across a good portion of North America. I’ve peed off cliffs, on cliffs, on cars, out of cars, out of tents, but never in the tent. I’ve even peed in toilets from time to time, like actual flushing ones. I’ve peed on glaciers, into crevasses, into the wind (lesson learned), with the wind, into bottles, plastic bags, the desert, the snow, rice cracker boxes, and laughed so hard on several occasions I think I’ve even peed my pants.

I’ve been trad climbing, sport climbing, aid climbing, big wall climbing, alpine climbing, simul climbing, speed climbing, short fixed, French freed, soloing, rappelling and bouldering – fuck bouldering – sky diving, snow boarding, skiing, snowmobiling, mountain biking, surfing, slacklining, canyoneering, high lining, spelunking, rope jumping, and I got to fly a plane.

I’ve rolled ankles, strained finger tendons, damaged hip flexers, consistently lost skin from knees and ankles, broke ribs, removed toe nails, ripped holes in the soles of feet, lost copious amounts of skin from back of hands (hair will probably never grow there again), almost frostbitten toes, snapped AC ligament, stitches in leg, wind burn, sun burn, cock burn, and rope burn. I’ve suffered altitude sickness, dehydration, and malnutrition more commonly than you’d think. I’ve hit the deck, missed ledges, hit trees, and dodged too many falling rocks to ever consider multi-pitching without a helmet.

I’ve lost cams. I’ve founds cams. I’ve torn gear loops off harnesses, taken core shots to ropes, and now have a helmet that would no longer pass health and safety standards. I’ve lost sleeping bags, snapped tents, snapped a snowboard, cracked bindings, put holes in every single item of clothing I own, wrote off two cars, drowned a laptop, fixed then smashed said laptop, punched crampons through back pack, melted slings, snapped sunnies, blown through three pairs of climbing shoes, and just as many thongs.

I’ve had run-ins with the law, seen the changing colors of Autumn leaves, and spent more money than should be considered reasonable for someone unemployed this long, but I’ve meet the best people in the most amazing locations while having the funnest adventures. I’ve had my attention drawn by a local filly, and now a piece of America may be coming back with me. I’ve scared myself so often that my adrenal gland has now grown larger than both my balls. Oh, and I’ve showered at least a dozen times in the last seven months.

Best. Year. Ever.

talk like an aussie.

Posted on November 6, 2013 by Sara

i have spent the last two days in the car reading the book in a sunburned country by bill bryson. ryan sneakily bought (like a fox!) and surprise gifted me the book upon his departure, knowing that he had sparked my interest in australia and that this author’s style of writing would thoroughly entertain me.

after finishing the first hundred pages, i got the urge to write about my own australian experiences. although i have yet to make the long journey to the land down under, i have just had a month living amongst them.

when you meet an australian – or maybe you don’t, but mark and i do – you become fascinated with their culture (aka taste vegemite) and their vernacular. they are speaking english, yet you’ll be in a regular conversation and all the sudden have no clue what was said in the last three sentences. a string of words form and you stare blankly at the mouth forming them.

“did you just say words?” became a common phrase that i would utter in confusion to my aussie companions.

i figured since i would be spending a month with these blokes, i might as well start trying to learn their language. i came naturally to the mumbling that often ensues when their speech gets excited. i am pretty well known for blurring all my words into one and barely opening my mouth while i do it. so, no problem there.

then there is the complete nonexistence of the letter ‘r’. or rather the sound the letter ‘r’ makes. it was pretty fun since mark and i both have the letter in our names. rrrrrrrrrrrrrr. aussies don’t need that letter. too good for the ‘r’. they just graze right over it when it’s in the middle of a word.

insert time here to practice your best australian accent.

i suck at the accent. i did seem to be way better at it when immediately repeating a phrase after it left their mouths. like a parrot. but left to my own devices, a cross between a pirate and a brit was the best i could come up with. sort of like paul rudd in the movie i love you, man.

but despite my horrible accent and inability to completely disregard the eighteenth letter of the alphabet, i decided to slip into my studious nature and really get a handle on the jibberish that was being spat at us.

so of course, like any good foreign language student, i started a dictionary. anytime ryan or ben would say something completely absurd, i would add it to the list. there was only one problem…

sara: wait, what’d you just say?
ryan: bitumen
sara: can you spell that?
ryan: bit-uh-men
sara: um, so, can you spell that?
ryan: um, no

this conversation happened nearly every single time i learned a new word. ben was able to help me out on some of the words, but in general, it seems as though the spelling is open to interpretation. or at least it is in my australian dictionary. so if you are australian or are an expert in aussie slang, please forgive my misspellings.

now it was hard to get ryan and ben to come up with new words for me to learn on the spot. so, i had to be a patient student and wait for my tutors to slip into their native tongue unknowingly. then, i would pounce! eagerly ask them what the heck a “capsicum” was and proudly added it to my dictionary when they responded “a pepper.” then, i would share the new word with mark who would spend the whole next day using it at hilariously inappropriate times.

i added about sixty words to my australian dictionary over the past month and learned that when in doubt, shorten the word and add an ‘o’ or ‘y’ and you’re probably good to go. so after a month of studies with two amazing australian tutors, i am taking on the challenge. here goes nothing. enjoy.

a story where i attempt to use every aussie word i learned from ryan and ben
by sara schneider (don’t pronounce the letter r)

disclaimer: this story’s plot is going to make no sense.

once upon a time, in a land full of the deadliest creatures known to man (including the drop bears), lived a simple sheila named sydney and her lil’ tacker out in the bush. her daughter was a cute little ranga named adelaide who was always getting into trouble. she took after her dad.

her father was a dodgy bloke who lived in an old combi down by the sea. he laid on the beach all day in dirty tracky dacks and a ripped singlette neckin’ the dregs out of every stubby he could find in his disheveled esky. it’s one thing to sink some piss on the shore and haggle the nippers a bit, but this bloke was heaps of headaches. he was built like a brick shithouse but stumbled stupidly from too much grog.

all those years ago, adelaide’s mother thought the doc was stirrin’ her when she went in for the wog and came out up the duff. strewth. but that’s what you get when you are young and toey, skull too many goonsacks, and get a good root from the first bloke who perves on ya.

she left the doc feeling a bit how ya goin’ but ended up loving the silly duffa once adelaide was in her arms. they left the hospital ready to live a life with no wuckas. sydney hopped in her ute, threw her bags in boot, and checked under the bonnet. with a few cranks of the spanner she was headed back out on the endless bitumen with adelaide wrapped up all starkers beneath her doona taking a kip. such a cute little possum. riggy dige.

sydney raised adelaide to be a wiz in the kitchen. fucking oath she made delicious combinations of pumpkin and pecans (pronounced pee-cans). perfectly flavored spag bol with freshly grown capsicums. filets (pronounced fill-its) and prawns and yabbies on the barbi. amazing chook and avo sangas with a side of chips. just grab a serviette and dig into the best tucker in town.

sometimes adelaide would be a little sooky la la when she thought about her lack of a father, but sydney always knew she’d be apples. when she was younger, she would just let her dink on their bicycle for a fun arvo ride and all would be swell to the max. but today, she had a squize at adelaide’s diary and learned a secret.

“g’day addy,” said sydney in a somber motherly tone. “are you having a win?”

adelaide stared at sydney. she was now almost eighteen and wanted nothing to do with her mother. “i’m a bit of all right,” she responded uninterested.

“i reckon you’re feeling a bit shit hot huh?” sydney said trying to pry a bit deeper. she walked to the fridge, grabbed two toheys, stuck them in a couple of stubby coolers, and handed one to adelaide. she drank in the cold beer and smirked.

“tah. righto, mum.”

“good on ya addy,” sydney scoffed. “you thought you’d get away with it, but i happened to read your diary today.”

“fair dinkum…” adelaide trailed off. she didn’t care at all what her mother knew.

and i don’t care what she knew either because i just used all my words. boom doggle!

if you would like a translation, let me know. i can now be your australian tutor. (oh, and i can teach you all the states and capitals.) however, they do say you always learn a language better when you immerse yourself in the culture and language. maybe i need to do an australian immersion as my next adventure. learn a bit more about the infamous ned kelly and uncle chop chop.

for now, i’ll return to bill bryson’s account of the interesting island we call australia.

catch ya.

Posted on November 4, 2013 by Sara

i’ve never camped for a whole month. settled down in one space to climb. plant myself in the middle of nowhere kentucky without cell service.

it’s over now. not the adventure, but this chapter.

colby and i packed up the car this morning and hit the road again. this time, we’re headed back west. to red rocks in vegas and then onto bishop in california.

but what happened to the past month? i cannot figure out where all the time went. probably into endless fits of laughter, sore fingertips, and late night conversations.

i haven’t felt like writing. i haven’t had the words to put my experiences onto paper. i haven’t felt like letting anyone else in on the world i had created. a space in the woods where i felt safe. where i was surrounded by people who did not question you on anything other than what project you did or didn’t send today. unless you wanted them to…

i found the ones i wanted to know more.

and then my time disappeared.

as it always does.

and then it was today.

but what happened yesterday? what happened the day before? or even last week?

let me make a list of the highlights.

healing the cripple. ryan walked away from a head-on collision with only some aftermath from the seatbelt aka broken ribs. hanging out with our “family” was not good for his ribs. we made ryan laugh so hard it hurt. literally. and here i thought laughter was the best medicine for everything. i am pretty sure his hand grasping his boob during an outburst of laughter is now just a reflex.
the shanteen construction. having a shanty town makes you a local. having a home makes you feel safe. it gives you somewhere to escape the masses when you just want to be alone. or when you want some quiet. walking from the front of miguel’s past the bathrooms across the small bridge along the glow worm lined path down the line of shrubbery and ending at the warm glowing lantern light telling me someone was home.
climbing (rock). that is why we were all there. taking time to problem solve the rock. sitting at the crag cheering each other on. smiling when we finish something we’ve been working on. feeling our muscles give out and the skin on our fingertips disintegrate. feel weak. feel strong. collect a list of your favorite climbs. collect a list of your projects. i got on a 5.11b technical, vertical climb (random precision at the gallery wall) last year when i was in the red. i didn’t get to the top clean. this year, i did. and i did it in the rain. i got on another 5.11b (like a turtle at the bronaugh wall) that i had taken about six whippers on trying to get to the last bolt before the anchors at the beginning of this trip. yesterday, i got to the anchors. not clean, but only one hang. it’s those moments of small satisfaction that make you love the rock even more. make you love the people around you even more. make you love this community even more. and make you want to come back next year.
an australian thanksgiving. they don’t have thanksgiving in australia. weird, i know. this month has been filled with a lot of learning the cultural differences between australians and americans. new words. new foods. new holidays. we wanted to make sure that our two aussies experienced a true american thanksgiving, even if it was only october. and so, we sent lauren and ben to the grocery store and then off to jen’s cabin to slave away over the stove on one of our rest days. i sat on the couch and did work as the boys watched some sunday football. the aussies were rather impressed with my knowledge as i explained all the rules of the game. thanks college. colby and lauren cooked up quite the meal. including homemade pies. we said what we were grateful for. we stuffed our faces. we took naps. it was a success.
the new river gorge. sometimes when you spend a month in one place, you want to visit somewhere else. and since i was with someone who was trying to see as many of america’s climbing destinations as possible before heading back to australia, we rented a car and headed to the new river gorge in west virginia for a long weekend. we were half running away from a kentucky cold front and half just running away. with fall in full swing, the four hour drive was beautiful. the climbing was beautiful. we stayed in a cheap hotel room. i don’t think i have ever been so excited to see a bathtub in my life. endless hot water! and a toilet just steps away from the bed! and the restaurants in fayetteville are actually pretty great. it’s a cute little town with a very big single span arch bridge. and it was a cute little weekend of touring the area with my aussie. giving him several new experiences…like dirty ernie’s rib pit. classic.
family game night. there is nothing better than family game nights. especially when your family is a bunch of immature adults who find everything absolutely hilarious. add in cards against humanity and you have a couple hours of constant laughter. eight people crowded around a picnic table covered with camping stoves and dirty dishes and food particles and toothbrushes. alan, ben, ryan, colby, lauren, mark, steph, and me. mark won. the game was made for him. but to be entirely cheesy…we all were winners that night. there were hordes of climbers a few hundred yards away, but we were in our own little world. laughing our asses off until it was time to sleep.
saying goodbye. this is a concept that doesn’t really exist in my life and i love it. it’s always goodbye for now. goodbye to simeon (until i see you everywhere). goodbye to elodie (until i see you again in thailand? or maybe france). goodbye to alan (until i see you a week later back at the red). goodbye to ben (until i see you a couple weeks later in bishop for thanksgiving). goodbye to lauren and mark (until i see you tonight in a hotel room in tulsa). goodbye to ryan (until i see you again in australia). i’ve always been good at keeping in contact with those who impact me. those that i want to keep impacting me. technology makes it easy to call and email and chat and blog. airplanes make it easy to go hug the people that live faraway. goodbye is no longer goodbye in this world. and so i’m adopting a new australian sign off.

catch ya.

addendum: simeon’s visit to the red also should have made the list. magical.

here in kentucky.

Posted on October 24, 2013 by Sara

it’s strange for me to not take time away from people and events to write. working on the road makes my time pretty polarized. when i am not climbing, i am working. when i am not working, i am climbing. and in those moments where the internet is too slow to work due to the influx of weekend warrior climbers streaming unnecessary videos in the basement of miguel’s, i socialize and take it all in. but i haven’t put it down in writing like you’re used to. and i am pretty sure my mom is getting worried.

not very many facebook updates and no blog posts. geez is sara all right?!? she has already sent me two emails in the past week to check in.

yes, mom, all is well. we are just having french braiding parties in the woods…

it is starting to get colder here in kentucky. fall always hits fast in the midwest. it is summer and then, bam, it is fall. and we all know what happens next. weather.com tells me it’s supposed to get into the low 20s at night this week. but my sleeping bag is warm and so is the aussie bloke by my side.

i thought i would get really psyched on writing my character profiles, but it turns out that it is hard to write about the people i meet along the way when i am still surrounded by their smiling faces. so for now, they will have to wait. the only person that i can properly write about right now is kyle the canadian. so that will happen soon.

for now, you get an introduction to the family and a long overdue storytime.

meet my kentucky climbing family:
colby – dad/my lil’ bro (you heard about him already)
ben – grandpa ben or grandpa babe (aussie we met in maple canyon)
ryan – um, ryan (other aussie we met in maple canyon and official tent-warmer)
lauren and mark – lmo&mk (knew aussies, became part of family)

guest appearances:
simeon – my college peer chippewa
nick – most tattooed climber and amazing tattoo artist
haley – my top rope princess and smiler
steph and aaron – rave souls who knew aussie ryan
jennifer – badass firefighter

special mentions:
emily – arm wrestling runner up
elodie – she’s french, and photographs
benjamin – tarzan from st. charles
mikael – tall blondie who hugs big and dresses bright
adrian – young dirtbag and sundance’s dad (dog)
sam – our tent neighbor and small fry’s dad (dog)
cam – our tent neighbor that ryan can never remember his name

okay, so now the story can begin. the cast of characters is complete. until someone else comes along. transience.

we live in “the shanteen”. commandeer a picnic table, pop open your tents, and add a few tarps overhead. hang a $1 painting of a chair on a tree and place a welcome mat at the opening in the tarps and you are home.

this has been my home since the beginning of october. everyone in camp is jealous.

every morning i wake up next to a very cute aussie boy who let me crash in his tent to give colby a break from his big sis’ snuggles. we wake up to the sizzle of bacon. it is better than an alarm clock. colby’s tent unzips, bacon sizzles. our tent unzips, the day begins.

we pow wow around the picnic table at the shanteen. away from the masses that overtake miguel’s campground. we are locals now. we are not the climbers that come up for a quick weekend. we have a home. we have a family.

we decide where we want to climb that day. should it be a rest day? is mark still sick? can ryan climb on his broken ribs? do i have to work? is it going to rain?

there are so many factors to consider, but in the end, the decision is always perfect.

we pack our bags full of gear and snacks, and then pack ourselves into the car. drive about twenty miles to dirt roads not suitable for nice cars. unload and groan about how many cars are already in the parking lot. swing on our packs and hike to the rock.

the beautiful rock.

what a beautiful sport.
what a crazy sport.

sometimes we warm up properly on some easy climbs. sometimes we get too excited and jump on the hard stuff right away. we collect projects or climbs that we need to come back to in order to climb them clean. add them to my crushfest log, the spreadsheet full of the climbs i have crushed or not so much…

falling.

i laugh hysterically when i fall. five feet or twenty-five feet. i cannot help but crack up. it is so fun to fly through the air. to push yourself to your absolute limit and then enjoy the giving up. sometimes it is scary. sometimes it is silly.

a lot of climbers hate falling. there are numerous books on how to mentally prep for falling. it is just a part of climbing.

“i don’t know if you’re fearless or just don’t understand the dangers of falling,” ryan said to me one day after taking an almost choreographed spill.

hm. it’s probably both.

but why have fear?

we are safe here in our home. here in nature. here in kentucky.

cobblestoned in maple canyon.

Posted on October 3, 2013 by Sara

it has been two weeks since i have had time to myself to write a new blog post.

it has been two weeks since i flew to salt lake city and began this epic adventure.

it has been two weeks since i have had consistent internet and cell service.

it has been two weeks since i stood at the shore of lake michigan and said good-bye to summer and hello to fall.

and it was two weeks ago that i arrived in salt lake city just in time to grab lunch with the santoro clan and await the silver volkswagon jetta wagon, jam-packed with living and climbing essentials, that would be carting me around for the next couple of months. colbin richard smith (aka colby) would be the driver. a recent college graduate soaking up that wonderful stage between the security of school and the uncertainty of adultdom.

a few months ago, colby mentioned he was heading out on the road to do some climbing. i thought…what the hell? it was unclear if i was invited or not, but i figured everyone wants a partner in crime. and thus this adventure was born.

after a month in the midwest full of endless hours of work and weddings and family fun, it was a welcome change to head into the woods. or into the canyon rather. maple canyon to be exact.

there is something about exiting reception that makes me heart leap. it leaps for joy. and it leaps in fear. as i see my bars dwindle, i know that this is my chance to make any last minute phone calls. any last minute emails to clients to make sure they know that my usual immediate response time will be not so immediate.

we drive and drive and all the sudden the asphalt turns to gravel. the ascent begins and after two miles of rocky terrain, trudy (the name of colby’s car) arrives at campsite fifteen. colby had already been there a week or two. the campsite already was home. a tent complete with a soft crash pad bed. a picnic table full of necessary (and unnecessary) kitchen utensils to fuel colby’s obsession with good food. a fire pit just screaming for some s’mores. and a view. what a view.

before heading to the midwest back in august, i had left colby with my things in portland. the things i thought i would need for a two month climbing trip. when i arrived at camp, i immediately went into inventory mode and took stock.

climbing gear. check.
clothing. check.
bike. check.
pillow. check.
sleeping bag…
hats/mittens…
rain coat…

uhhhh…hey colby…did you forget my sleeping bag?

yes. yes he did. and the other important things that were stuffed into the sleeping bag sack.

but lo and behold, sometimes life works out just fine. colby happened to bring two sleeping bags, one for cold and one for colder. phew. i didn’t have to freeze my ass off on the first night in maple canyon.

and now, maple life began.

always a big breakfast including bacon in the morning. (colby bought four pounds of bacon at costco prior to my arrival.) colby takes great pride in his food. and i let him…

and then, i did the dishes.

i know i know. some of you are shocked. sara? doing dishes? willingly? okay, maybe not willingly, but yes, it’s true. i understood the trade. gourmet meals = i do the dishes.

and thus, maria the dish wench was born.

always a peanut butter and jelly for lunch out at the crags. and always a big delicious dinner to fill our bellies (his big, mine small) after a long day of climbing.

climbing…

this is a climbing adventure. yet, it has been months since i have been in good climbing shape. gallivanting around the country does not lend itself to keeping in shape. a month at home with mom’s cooking and work owning me does not help either.

but i was in maple canyon surrounded by these crazy unique cobblestoned walls. it was time to man up.

warm up on a 5.10b? oh yeah, sure, that sounds perfect colby…

yeah…

i am weak.

it sucks when you are weak. your brain totally gives up. you look around at the beautiful rock and smile in the sun and think, maybe i’ll just read my book today.

but you don’t.

instead, you run into two australian guys at the first crag. one in the air moving quickly up the rock bulges. one on the ground belaying his buddy up the wall.

good ‘ay mate.

i ask what his name is.

ryan, he says. then he looks down at his chest with sass, and i notice it is written there on his work shirt. i knew we were going to get along. it was the kind of work shirt that i have seen my dad wear everyday of my life. the kind that has a nicely embroidered patch above the left pocket stating your name. the kind that seems to last forever, through everything. and ryan informed me that it had indeed done just that. survived it all.

and so our band of orphans began.

ryan was traveling with ben. they met in some other climbing location and just kept on running into each other along their american rock climbing journey.

i just lied.

our band of orphans began the night before.

with tim and diane.

and then kyle the canadian.

and then the two aussies mentioned above.

and then chris from michigan.

people. we collect people as we travel.

chew on that for awhile. or maybe check out some photos. my stomach is screaming out for dinner, and i have been staring at my computer for close to nine hours now.

back to exiting reception.

i am just passing time.

Posted on September 17, 2013 by Sara

it is in those moments of stillness that the adventurer’s mind begins to unsettle.

i have been back at home in the midwest since august 24th. so going on four weeks. it has been jam-packed with a wedding, family labor day vacation, theatre production, non-profit fundraiser, high school dance team kick-a-thon, housewarming potluck, and of course the interspersed coffee dates with those who manage to catch me.

but now the waters have calmed, and i am left with routine. but routine in a place that is no longer my city. it is not a routine i can slip into. yoga, climbing, and townshend’s on repeat. it is someone else’s routine.

i am car-less and hanging out with my madre in her farm house in the middle of the beautiful cornfields of huntley, illinois. i am an hour from my chicago friends. i am an hour from my saint charles friends. i am an hour from my dad’s house. i am an hour from my sister’s house. (not that it’s relevant, but i feel bad leaving him out…i am five hours from my brother’s house.)

but being cut off is good sometimes.

after a 70-hour week of planning and facilitating and designing and executing a $100k fundraiser, i am playing catch up for my other clients. so being grounded to any ounce of routine is good.

but being grounded makes you want to be ungrounded.

all day as i stare at my computer and plow through my to do list, my mind tries to figure out what the next chapter holds. i know one thing.

thursday i fly into salt lake city and then head to maple canyon with colby.

i have not climbed the entire time i have been home. i have actually done very little minus some yoga here and there. and yet, i am about to throw myself into two months of climbing rocks. vagabonding from utah to kentucky. and then back to portland via vegas? (that part is still open to edits.)

when you are living the plans, they seem fine. you don’t worry. you feel settled in your adventurous ways. living in the now is easy because your now is pretty awesome.

but when you are in the moments in between…

when you stare at your computer counting down the days until you will be staring at cobblestone instead, it is hard to live in the now. to stay focused on the ever-growing collection of tasks in black ink on that white piece of computer paper.

but you know that if you stay focused now, you will have less to do then…

maybe.

i am just passing time.

a reminder.

Posted on June 17, 2013 by Sara

the past few weeks have been filled with people. people that have been a part of my life from a very young age. people you don’t realize you miss as much as you do until you see them. people that even though life has sent you in very different directions, it only takes a few minutes to fall right back into your groove.

i was sitting in a ten-year-old’s bedroom in morganstown, west virginia. her walls are teal, and her shelves are lined with books and board games and photos and accents that show her personality. i remember when she didn’t have a personality. when she was a baby, and i would make her my subject for my high school photography class. and now, she is ten.

i have known her mother since second grade. spent all of second, third, and most of fourth grade with her standing alongside as i played my part of queen bee. in the middle of fourth grade, she moved away.

that is when it began.

friendship.

cherishing people.

no matter how far away they were.

in fifth grade, i boarded my very first airplane all by myself and flew to columbus, ohio over christmas break to see my friend. not because my mom suggested it, but because i knew it was a relationship worth making an effort to keep.

sixteen years later, and i still cannot help but board a plane and see my friend.

she returned to my school in sixth grade, and we finished out middle school with big boobs and even bigger attitudes. after graduating eighth grade, life took us in different directions, but i could never let the roads drift too far apart. airfare is a small price to pay to feel laughter that you know is real. to have shared memories that have shaped you both. to be reminded that distance cannot erase a bond.

it is known amongst my friends that i try my best to stay in touch. it might only be once a year that i get a chance to fly across the country to see them, but they know that i will always make the effort. but does a visit once a year, a birthday and christmas card, and a few phone calls here and there really equal a meaningful friendship?

in college, i had a friend who called me out on this. he was upset with me because i referred to him as one of my good friends yet didn’t really see or talk to him more than a couple times a month even though we lived on the same college campus, minutes apart from each other.

it was my senior year of college when we had this conversation. this startling realization that although most people praised me for flying to visit them in idaho falls or los angeles or indianapolis or austin or jackson hole or new york city, here was someone in my local community telling me that i was not investing enough. i was spread too thin. my past relationships from childhood and high school were impeding my ability to create those types of bonds with my college friends.

that thought has stayed with me for the past four years, but once again it is starting to take on a deeper meaning.

i have been on the go for the past seven months. traveling, yes. but more than traveling, seeing the people that are meaningful to me. the only travel i have done that was for travel sake was my month in india. the rest of the time has been spent cultivating and celebrating my friends and family.

time and distance tend to separate us, change us. the people that were close to us in high school, might not be the people that we want to hold close to us now. the people that were close to us in college, might not stay in contact as they get married and have children. i am learning to morph into the shifting roles of my relationships. i am also learning which ones continue to change who i am. those are the ones worth keeping. the mutual growth and love.

we hung out by the pool in her west virginia townhouse community and had girl talk. i had not seen her in three years and had maybe talked to her once a year on the phone in that time. we both delved into our successes and challenges of the past few years, and i had a moment where i thought, why didn’t i know all this? why didn’t you call me when this was happening?

a reminder.

she is always a reminder for me in my life. she has been since the day i met her in second grade. her lack was a reminder of my plenty. her cynicism was a reminder of my optimism. her responsibility was a reminder of my freedom. our consistency has always been a reminder of love. the kind of love between sisters. we fight. we make up. we laugh. we cry. we talk each other down from the ledge or push each other when it’s time to fly. but we are on different paths in life. i am grateful that i have always had someone in my life to remind me of the differences we face in life. she is also a reminder that some bonds don’t dissolve regardless of time and distance.

two close friends got married while i was home. one on a farm in the middle of nowhere michigan. one at a golf club in the suburbs of chicago. a perfect representation of the juxtaposition of the people that fill my life. both weddings were perfect for that person and their loved ones.

i was honored to be in the bridal party of one of them. a mutual friend of ours and i got to talking (as most unmarried girls do) about who we would put in our bridal party. it’s always an interesting exercise. who are those females who mean the most to you? the ones you would want to stand next to you for support as you make one of the biggest decisions of your life.

she stated that even though i was faraway and only saw her a few times a year, i would definitely be there by her side. i felt the same. i have known her since i was six, and like my time in west virginia, my time in st. charles reminded me of the close relationships that have made me who i am and continue to do so.

thank you for that reminder.

finding a home for wireman.

Posted on May 8, 2013 by Sara

it’s been over two months since i returned from india. two months since i came “home.” two months since i have written a blog post. two months since i have slowed down.

in those two months, i have coasted along maintaining my vagabonding. i have not paid rent since november. i have paid taxes. i have bought plane tickets. i have paid contract workers. but i have not paid rent.

india to paris to los angeles. los angeles to bishop. bishop to los angeles. los angeles to boulder. boulder to portland. portland to boulder. boulder to portland. portland to las vegas. las vegas to portland. portland to boulder. boulder to detroit. detroit to ohio to new york. new york to grand rapids.

here now. back in grand rapids. catching up with clients. keeping connections strong. meeting new clients face to face. seeing old friends. enjoying the sunshine. dreaming big, but getting exhausted. but it still feels home-ish. i know where to go to find my favorite yoga. i know which coffee shops have the comfy chairs. i know where to go without opening google maps on my iphone. it is rooted in me.

grand rapids to chicago. chicago to boulder. boulder to chicago. chicago to madison. madison to chicago. chicago to west virginia. west virginia to chicago. chicago to montana. montana to boulder. and then?

there is no return ticket booked yet.

“a small boy was being pitied because he and his family were living in a hotel. he replied, ‘oh, but we do have a home. it’s just that we haven’t anywhere to put it at the moment.’” (finding a home, from the christian science monitor, march 15, 1978)

i tell myself that i do not need four walls surrounding me to make me feel home, and i don’t. i have lived in three cities since i left chicago in high school. each one felt good. because the city didn’t matter. it was always the people who made me feel home. yet, recently i have realized that four walls don’t make me feel home, but they do give me a routine. a routine i miss sometimes.

a space to call my own. hang my artwork on the walls and play brian’s aretha franklin album over and over on the record player loudly in the mornings. finding the silverware drawer that is instinctual for me.

last week, i went on a road trip with children’s book author sue stauffacher. read the blog. see the videos. detroit to new york. four schools and a library. probably over a hundred youth. we were sharing the tale of wireman, a literacy comic book that currently has two volumes. an amazing tool. an amazing story. an urban setting. an ethnic cast of characters. a plot to which every single child we talked to could relate. their faces lit up when they could read something that was about problems they faced, problems they had to solve.

our youth are so smart. they amaze me with their intuition. their insight. their passion. their need to be successful.

you could see several of them dance around the depth that wireman was causing them to feel. but there were a brave few who took the leap. let wireman’s plot penetrate their reality. giving them a medium to speak anonymously about the bully at lunch or the family situations at home.

home.

wireman creates a home for his crew. they live on the roof. they help each other. it seems so safe. they want safety. they find their wish fulfilled. a home. a safe home.

what is my wireman? who is my wireman?

there are only two volumes of wireman so far. eight issues. they bring you to a second grade reading level. did you know that there are 300 basic words that comprise 65% of written english? wireman includes them all. the story is ready to continue. volume three. four. five. a set of comic books that brings its reader up to a fifth grade reading level. we need this tool. wireman needs to find a home.

soon i will too.

define liminal : finding the space between

words from wherever i am today and tomorrow and the next day.

Category Archives: travels.

what a week!

it’s time to go with aussie m(a)n.

guest blog: if this plaid shirt could talk

talk like an aussie.

catch ya.

here in kentucky.

cobblestoned in maple canyon.

i am just passing time.

a reminder.

finding a home for wireman.