| Addicted To Powder Articles | | | | Adrenaline | Oct 3, 2007| Resort - Whistler / Blackcomb | Thomas Hunterson | I wish I was like you, easily amused.
Kurt Cobain
In my early twenties I was lucky enough to meet my close friend K2. He can be a seriously intense person. Whether it be rock climbing, sail boat racing, or business he truly gives one hundred and ten percent to his latest obsession. We have shared many adventures as well as hairy experiences. When we are hanging it all on the line and the shit goes down there are few others I trust with my life
When we first became friends K2 offered to take me rock climbing and I flat out refused. I explained I was terrified of heights. He told me he had been climbing for years; that there was nothing to worry about. He tried relentlessly to get me onto a rope, but I wouldn’t bite. At this time in the climbing's history indoor gyms didn’t exist. To climb one had to go outside onto real rock to learn the ropes. This was not appealing to me. K2 tried a different approach. He invited me out sail boat racing with his family, I accepted.
I didn’t know a thing about sailing. I remember how green I was. The first time the boat leaned over in the breeze I asked if the boat was really supposed to lean over like that. I was confused when everyone laughed at me. I learned rope skills, knots, and perserverance in the face of adversity. As we became better friends I began to trust him more. So the next time he asked me to climb I agreed. Sailing soon took a back seat to my newest obsession.
My first experiences with rock climbing at Fleming Beach in Victoria B.C. were cool. I was educated in the basics of top roping, foot work, and mental conditioning. Sometime later K2 suggested we try something bigger so we traveled to a secret location. To get there we had to hike in for a couple of hours. Eventually we arrived at the top of a large bluff overlooking a narrows. We must have been a thousand feet above sea level, fish boats looked like dots on the water below us. We scrambled down a trail skirting the edge of the cliff band until we came to the base of a climb known as Slide it to the Dog (5.9).
K2 lead the pitch and set up the belay station some seventy or eighty feet off the ground. He then signaled that it was turn to ascend the climb. As I climbed the pitch I became more and more gripped with fear. I took a moment to look back. I was only forty feet of the deck but because the bluff we were on was near the top of the mountain it felt like I was incredibly high. My heart began to race as I felt the exposure creep in around me.
Another thirty or so feet higher and the belay station was directly across from me about fifteen feet away. K2 reminded me of the pendulum hazard and told me to take care. I left the security of the crack and began to traverse out and onto the face. I had to look down to find footholds. I could see our packs below us on the expansive ledge. Fear crept back into my mind and screamed its displeasure at me. I pushed it back into the depths of my consciousness.
When I arrived at the hanging belay K2 offered me a ready sling. With trembling hands I eagerly grasped it and clipped it into my harness. ”Off belay,” K2 said.
He reached for my end of the rope and began untying the knot, “Hey, what do you think your doing?” I asked.
K2 looked at me and in a calming voice he explained to me that he had to rig a rappel for us to get down. He reminded me that he had already briefed me on this procedure back on the ground. I reluctantly let him go about his work. As I stood there on the tiniest of ledges all I could think of was getting down to safety and never doing this again. Moments later K2 offered me the rappel lines, I quickly connected in and lowered to the ground.
As I waited for my friend to join me on the ledge I walked to my pack for water. This was the most horrifying hour of my entire life. My terror was immense. I sat down literally shaking with fear. I did not notice as K2 rappelled down to the ledge.
He swaggered over to where I sat and grabbed a warm beer from his pack. As we sat sharing the beer he commented that he could see the horror in my eyes as I came into the station above. When I explained that I had never been so inredible scared for my life he laughed and said, “I know.”
We hiked out to the car and within few hours we were grabbing ice cream at the local DQ. A euphoric calm began to come over me. I felt as if I was in a world of bliss. All was good. My heart rate was slow and steady. I was happy and content. The only thing I could relate this feeling to was being high on some kind of drug. I looked to my friend for answers, “Why do I feel so baked?”
K2 chuckled to himself, “endorphins.”
Intense fear stimulates the adrenal gland and increases the level of adrenaline in the bloodstream. This reaction is connected to the fight or flight reflex. It is one of our most primal responses. It causes our heart to race and stimulates the sweat glands. Our mind shifts into high gear and time seems to slow down as we prepare for survival. This chemical and some others are the reason some people in motor vehicle accidents have been known to exhibit superhuman strength while lifting a car to save a trapped child. As with any drug it will peak with time. Adrenaline is fast acting and if left unchecked the individual will certainly cause harm to itself. Once the imminent danger has been dealt with the body will then counteract the adrenaline with endorphins. Endorphins are opiodes, chemicals closely related to heroine and morphine. Drugs which apply direct stimulation to the pleasure centre of the brain causing a calming sense of well being.
As time passed K2 and I climbed bigger and bigger things, I pushed my personal limits countless times. I learned the true meaning of words like commitment, focus, and friendship. I became more and more obsessed with rock climbing. Finally I had to take a break. But something was missing. I began to feel a deep ennui creep slowly into my life. It peeked out from the depths of my soul and stepped into my psyche. It brought along its friends frustration and depression. They were unwelcome party crashers who would not leave. I was in a funk I could not shake, until my first trip to Whistler Blackcomb.
I had come with my brother Svend and my cousin Guido for a ski week. All my life I had listened to tales of this place. Finally I was here. I suggested we go check out the Harmony Bowl. We made our way down the Harmony Ridge and turned onto Pika’s Traverse. I will never forget my first views of the steep terrain available in the bowl. I peered over the snow fence and down the extreme slopes, vertigo began to grip me and I looked away. I watched in amazement at the skill displayed by skiers dropping in via the Harmony Horseshoe entrances. We had to come up here again.
On our next run we cut into the bowl on the traverse. Somewhere near the Camel Humps I looked over the edge. “You guys want to give this a try?” I asked.
Svend and Guido looked at each other and replied that they were not interested. I could see that this traverse would hook back around and meet up below. I pointed, “You guys meet me down there.”
I looked over the edge. The pitch was steeper and longer than anything I had ever seen or attempted. As I psyched myself up to drop in I could feel my heart racing in my chest. I gripped my poles tighter. A lump formed in my throat. I took a deep breath and swallowed the lump down. As I dropped in I remember hearing Svend exclaim, “Your nuts.”
It took but a millisecond to realize I was in over my head. My mind began to scold me for my foolishness and panic reared its ugly head. I struggled to concentrate on making my turns so as not to lose my edge and skid off into the void. Everything began to slip into obscurity as my focus on survival took over. At the half way point I was forced to stop for a breather. As I stood teetering on the brink of madness I drank up the exposure. I continued down the slope. I could see my companions waiting for me at the bottom. When I rejoined them with adrenaline coursing through my veins, the only thing I could think to say was, “Let’s do it again.”
That was it, I was hooked on steeps. My passion for skiing was rekindled and a new obsession took control. Weeks later I became aware that I had shaken the funk I was in. Life seemed meaningful and exciting. All I wanted to do was ski, and maybe climb.
People like me who live for intense stimulation walk a fine line between sanity and madness. Some of us find the juice we need in sports or business. Those not fortunate enough to discover the positive side can get caught in what Neil Pert called “the ticking traps” of drugs, crime, and gambling.
Many of us shun the call of pop culture as well as practitioners of conformity. We call it being enlightened and somehow feel we are beyond the norm of the modern world whose rules don’t apply to us. This puts us in an awkward position outside of society. We are really junkies obsessing over our next fix, trying to score the ultimate rush by pushing the outsdie of lifes envelope.
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| Random Picture | | Copper Glades |  | | click on image for larger view |
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