Climb for Hospice

ThermalUnderwearMosquitoNetMoneyBeltCompressionSacksSocksGlovesSandalsHydrationSystemFirstAidKit…

I’m going to MEC today.

There’s this mountain, see? And it’s big. I mean, BIG. And I’m going to grab a couple of friends and, you know, walk on up to the top of it. I’m going to try and raise $10,000 while doing this extendo-jaunt, and I plan on making the most of the multi-day adventure by sandwiching it between two other multi-day adventures. And guess what… I’m going to freaking AFRICA to do it. This trip is big.

BIG.

LARGE.

MONDO.

This is not a small thing. This is a very massive trip created from very massive ideas, and will have a very massive result.

…but is life really all about the very massive?

Last night I was woken up from a gentle sleep, and was presented with… well, a present! Chris had gone out and bought me The Book of Awesome. Have you heard of this? No? Well, now you have. And now you won’t be able to live without it. It’s a great story… in fact, I’d go so far as to say that it’s awesome.

What started out as a regular guy looking to find the good in each regular day has spawned a Movement of Happy and Gratitude. This guy was having a bit of a rough go in life, and decided to start a website to chronicle all the wee things in life that are, y’now, totally awesome.

Chris saw that I had my own sort of Awesome Recognition thing going on in my Gratitude Journals (Every night since July 27th, 1999 I have written down three things that I was grateful during the day) , and he thought I would appreciate The Book of Awesome. And I totally, totally do.

It’s not the BIGMONDOHUGELARGEMASSIVEGARGANTUANIMMENSE things in life that make the BIGMONDOHUGELARGEMASSIVEGARGANTUANIMMENSE impacts, it’s the weetinysmallteensytinyittybittylittle things that do.

So maybe THE CLIMB (insert ogre-esque ‘RAWR’ here) isn’t the thing.

Maybe it’s the single step that gets me closer.

And that’s awesome.

*DanceDanceDancityDanceDance*

So, as I was moping my way through the ice cream aisle at Save-On last night, I thought I’d take a swing by the magazine rack to see what’s new and who’s being used. As I sifted through the colourful bitchfest periodicals and suppressed the urge to compare my thighs with Giselle Bundchen’s (yet again), I noticed that the August 2010 Vanity Fair (VF) was out!  As some of you may recall, I may have possibly, slightly, mentally over-milked a brief brush with fame when I had a single sentence from a Letter to the Editor published in VF some months ago.

Anyhoooo… I went wading through the magazines (seriously, how many dog magazines does a society need?!), and found myself staring into the eyes of Angelina Jolie as I found VF. I deftly avoided her crazy-lady eyes and was able to suppress a lesbian-esque urge to ogle her boobies as I picked the magazine up and began thumbing through to the Letters page.

I was stopped by an advertisement for shoes, but only briefly. I swung past Graydon Carter’s Editor’s Note, and tore past the Contributors page. I went back and stared at that shoe advertisement for a bit. But THEN I carried on, forged ahead to the Letters page and there, staring back at me, was my name.

MY name. My letter HAS been published in Vanity Fair, and it’s actually like, a whole paragraph long! I’ve graduated from single sentence fame to multiple, flowing creative passage fame! I really must not let this go to my head. Don’t worry, I’ll remember you all… yes, all you little people will still hold a place in my heart as I am whisked from party to fabulous party, being showered with Harry Winston diamonds and Lauren couture.  Man. This is going to be SO cool…

I’m climbing the World’s Highest Free-Standing Equatorial mountain. One of the Seven Summits. The highest peak on the African continent. I’ll be able to see the curvature of the earth from the summit! But having a small letter, some wee brainlets of mine copied into my favourite  magazine… well, I dare say that I’m standing pretty tall without the mountain today.

…and then there’s THIS.

As you can see, the donations have gone from deluge, to trickle to tumbleweed-esque.  The lovely Suzanne at Delta Hospice sends me emails to update me on donations that have come in.  She doesn’t send me WHAT was donated, but WHO made a donation. It’s so cool. I always look forward to seeing her name in my inbox.

However, my inbox has been Suzanne-less of late. It sucks.

I realized that I have fallen behind on my fundraising duties – I guess after the Kili Gala, I sort of stopped altogether. But I need to get back on that fundraising wagon and get ‘er done. I’m trying to raise $10,000 here! I mean, you’ve all been so generous, that I’m honestly humbled by the fact that I only need to raise about $4500 more. That seriously rocks the rock.  Awesome possum, people!

So, I went to The Underwear Affair last night at The Red Room downtown to see a GREAT band called Waiting for Sunday. They really were kick butt, and they have a decent following for a local indie band.  They’re just about to go on tour, and I wish them very well, indeed.

But the way people were dancing around when Waiting For Sunday was on stage got me thinking; I need a band like that to draw people in to a fundraiser night! That would be RAD! Just imagine a cool bar like say, The Anza Club, where you could go have a drink, hear great live music and dance up a storm all in the name of charity! Doesn’t that sound fab?! I mean, what if that night were held on, say, July 22nd… and started at like, 7pm? Maybe it could be even called, oh I don’t know… THE KILI CONCERT

Wait a second… AHA!!

Ali of Fatgirlclimbskili fame has beaten me to the punch! She’s got her head on straight and has planned a new fundraising night for The Heart & Stroke Foundation AND The Delta Hospice! As the Kili Gala was to Ladner, The Kili Concert is to Vancouver. This time we’re going downtown, baby! Awwwww… yeah…

So here’s another chance to donate to a good cause in a  great way. I’ll be happily manning (womanning?) the bar for the Kili Concert, and I’d love to see you there. And I’m sure Ali will drink lots of beer and dance around like mad, so you REALLY don’t want to miss that.

Come on out to The Anza Club on July 22nd to help support the Climb Kili 2010 team!!  Wheeeeeeeee!

As I type this, Chris is attempting to corner a spider in the house. I don’t want him to kill the spider, just help him to find a new home outside. Of course this means that Chris has to chase the little bugger around with a coffee cup and my most recent mortgage statement. Aaaaaaaaaaaand, that’s why I’m in here.

Maybe I can bring him along with me to Africa…

“Honey, there’s a spider the size of Texas in my hiking boot. Can you get him out for me, please? But don’t kill him! Ooooh… I think he has fangs… and wears boxing gloves… and I think he has a knife. Thanks honey!”

Yesterday Chris and I took my brother’s advice and decided to climb up Elk Mountain. Why I trust my brother for advice is beyond me. I mean, the guy used to beat me up when we were kids, why on earth would I think that he would suggest something in my best interest? I really should know better.

The hike up Elk Mtn is actually quite nice. You start off in forest,

And you go up.

And up,

And up, and up, and up… until you get horrendously tired and want to NOT go up anymore.

You joyously summit in about 2 hours,

Enjoy the amazing view (when the fog allows),

You smooch,

And you have some lunch under a tree.

And then you decide that you should keep going about 45 minutes more to reach Thurston Peak. It’s a GORGEOUS walk there, with very little ascending. Just walking along in a beautiful, silent forest… shhhh…

It will stop you in your tracks and simply awe you.

And you come out of the forest to be stopped by… snow.

Yep, snow.

However, we managed to crunch and slush our way through it, and man, was it ever worth it… on to the summit!

We added to the cairn…

*ahem*… we added to the cairn…

And happily made our way back down. It’s about two hours of descending, so if you’ve got bad knees, it’s going to take a while. But we were happy to be getting off the peak, as it was cold. Very cold. So cold, I couldn’t even get my fingers moving well enough to send my brother an expletive-laden text message. So yes, we were happy to get out of the icy fog.

See? Happy.

We had made the decision earlier on that we would stop at Dairy Queen after we had finished the climb. This made the decsending go that much smoother. It was all going so well, as we walked along in the forest, holding hands, laughing, listening to the birds. When just up ahead I see a tiny black nose come around the bend! Yay! Forest animals! However, when the tiny black nose turned out to be attached to a waddling black and white skunk, I wasn’t so happy. I believe the sentence I uttered went something like, “Awwwww… look at thAAAAAAAAGH!”

See now, Chris told me that in order to get the skunk to leave us alone, we had to yell at it, but not move toward it. That would be sure to scare the skunk away. I must tell you, it’s kind of funny having someone yelling behind you, as you’re running through the forest trying to avoid a now-charging skunk that does NOT like being yelled at. Those things can MOVE, man!

However, after we got back on the trail and stopped running, we could laugh about it.

We finally reached the car after our 5-hour hike, and joyously took our shoes off. You really must love someone to sit in an enclosed space with them while being newly-shoeless after a 5-hour hike. We just wanted Dairy Queen, man. Stinky hiking feet be dammed! Gimmie a Blizard!

So yes, Elk Mountain was a very good hike, and decently strenuous. I highly recommend it. Especially if you have someone to sappily smooch at the summit.

One of my favourite authors is Christopher Hitchens. He’s just put out his memoir Hitch 22, and I’m really looking forward to reading it.  He’s doing a book tour right now, and I went to his website to see if his tour swings my way at all. Sadly, I came across this… *sigh*

I first read Hitch’s work in Vanity Fair magazine. I loved him immediately. He is SUCH an asshole. No holds barred, straight up, in your face, jerk. I appreciated his candor and wit-wrapped intelligence. His barbed honesty being at once refreshing and shocking.

In December 2009, I had a small Letter to The Editor published in Vanity Fair, and when the magazine arrived in my mailbox, the first thing I did was to see if Hitch had an article in that particular edition (he didn’t), because the thought of being “published” in the same periodical as Hitch was just mind-blowing to me. I mean, they like Hitch! That means that if they like ME, then my writing is in the same league as Hitch’s, right? RIGHT??

…yah, I know. I just had a nice delusional moment there.

Anyway, on this rainy Canada Day I’d like to wish you well, Mr. Hitchens.  To my favourite water boarded, made-over, bravely incendiary, unapologetic Atheist author and realist… speedy recovery, sir.

I’m off to hike a mountain…

I don’t wanna’ go.

I said that out loud for the first time yesterday.

I don’t wanna’ go.

I’m afraid to travel alone, I don’t like that my plans aren’t solidified yet, I don’t want to go into a horrendous amount of debt.

I want to do something good for The Hospice, I want to see the world, I want to experience culture, I want to have memories, I want to climb the mountain.

I don’t want to camp, I don’t want to survive on snacks for 23 days, I don’t want to be scared.

I want to share my adventures, I want to go to Zanzibar, I want to see funky animals.

I don’t want to go.

I don’t want to come home.

I don’t want to go.

I had a horrible thought yesterday…

What if my climbing team and I get lost on the mountain, wander around aimlessly, go all snow crazy and wind up resorting to cannibalism?  What a horrible, horrible scenario! I couldn’t help thinking about how tragic this would be. I mean, I’m a vegetarian! What the hell would I do!?

And then I got to thinking about who to eat first. Obviously the first choice would be the guide. I mean, not like we’d need him anymore, right? Besides, he got us lost in the first place, so a fitting punishment may very well be to turn him into mountain tapas.

But then I wondered if maybe *I* should be the one to get nommed first. That would really solve my ‘I-don’t-eat-flesh’ dilemma. It would also save me from having to choose which one of my friends I’d have to bonk over the head with a frozen hiking boot. I’m also not very good at making fires, so by being the one to be eaten first, it would save me the potentially debilitating humiliation of failing in front of my friends as I cry my teeny flame out.

Then I started thinking about my teammates (who should all probably stop reading this now), and who I think would make the best meal. Seems easy enough, but if I ate Ali for example (she has very tasty looking calves), then I’d be deprived of her company. If I ate Amanda, then I’d lose out on her level-headed intelligence. But if I ate Christopher… well, he’s pretty thin, so I’d have to end up eating Amanda after him, anyway. And then I’d probably be too full to move, and would then be a prime target for Ali, who I wouldn’t be able to fight off given my logey friend-full belly. But then again, maybe Ali would be too weak to fight! I mean, if I didn’t share, then she would slowly weaken, right? It would take all her strength to strike me down with a ski pole, so if she didn’t get me on first try, she’d be done for.

Cannibalism is apparently quite scientific. It’s not like I can just off any random friend, you know! I have to really think about this. And to make matters worse, I have a fairly small team to choose from! It’s not like I have a whole South American rugby team that I’m climbing with (not that I would mind… hmmmm, now wouldn’t THAT make for interesting blog entries!

…

…what?

Oh, right. Blog. I forgot….

Kind of went somewhere for a minute there…)

Ok, so here it is: if the team gets lost, I am putting it out there now that I wish to be eaten first. Given the lack of vegetable matter on a human body, I’d be forced to eat meat and that would totally make my tummy feel all icky. I don’t want to have an icky-feeling tummy! That would be just SO uncomfortable. AND I don’t want to have to choose which friend I have to chow on, so by being the first cooked I’d deftly avoid that scenario. AND I am probably a terrible cook when it comes to meat, so I’d most likely give myself ptomaine poisoning after an incorrect buddy-bake. This too would lead to an icky tummy, so really, it’s lose-lose isn’t it?

*phew!*

All this thinking is making me hungry! Shame I don’t have time to eat – I’m late for my psyichatrist appointment…

I know! I know! You don’t have to say it. I know.

I wasn’t anywhere near a computer yesterday, so the blog was not done. That was the first time since I started this whole adventure! And it really did bother me all day. I promise you this, the next time you’ll see this blog skip a day is when I’m on  a plane to Amsterdam, making my way to Dar es Salaam. Well, unless I manage to get a phone with email capabilities.

Nervous, nervous, nervous. By the time I get to Day One I’m going to be a blubbering basket case, and they probably won’t let me on the plane. How’s that for disappointment, eh? Working this hard, doing all this panning and prep, only to be turned away at security because I’m all pale, sweaty and shaking.

I’m not a terrorist, I swear! I just have to go to a foreign country and *shudder* camp for a week.

My god, ma’am! Why didn’t you say so?! Stewardess, bump this poor soul up to First Class, and give her all the booze she can handle!  Captain… fly as slow as you possibly can. It’s going to be ok, ma’am… it’s going to be alright.

I gotta’ go hiking this week. Maybe on Thursday or something. My brother and sister-in-law keep telling me to go to Elk Mountain and then do the Mt. Thurston trail. I’m thinking that may very well be a good idea. Because, you know, I’mnotreadyI’mnotreadyI’mnotreadyI’mnotreadyI’mnotready’imnotreadyI’mnotreadyI’mnotreadyI’mnotready…