Happy Tely Ten Day to All,
On the last Sunday of every July, a growing number of people find their way to Paradise, Newfoundland and Labrador to walk, run, and roll their way ten miles (16 km) to the finish line beside Bannerman Park in St. John's. This year's event drew nearly 2600 folks and I was one of them. It was my fourth Tely in a row. I ran my first and have walked them since. This year my ankle wasn't ready to run and the last two years I walked in support of friends doing the race for the first time. I love that people come out and stand beside the course to cheer folks us. Kids holding signs and making up cheers always move me to tears. The fire halls put out their hoses to create a spray mist (though this year I'm not sure how many participants enjoyed their shower-it was quite cool). The route passes all major motorcycle dealers in town.
As I walked along with Marian, I found myself daydreaming of motorcycles and mountains. With Elbrus completed, I've noticed a reinvigoration of my desire to complete all seven summits. Last year, I'd hoped to have the six besides Everest done before heading back to Nepal next April. Then, with the recession, I thought I should let go of Vinson (the Antarctic peak) because I thought it would be too challenging to fundraise for two major peaks in such close proximity. But since getting home last week, I find my mind/spirit/heart somewhat stuck on the idea of Vinson (rather like a dog to a bone kind of stuck). I even tempted myself by finding out whether or not my preferred outfitter had space on any of their Vinson climbs. They do.
So I find myself perched on a diving board once again. The sensation is familiar. I remember getting to a similar spot in 2006 when I got tired of saying to kids that I was going to Everest "if" the money came together and changed it to "when" I am going. I mortgaged the house to do it and trusted that I would be able to repay the debt. So once again, I'm poised at the edge and wondering if there is water in the pool below (I suspect there is but there is always a sense of taking pause).
A friend is selling her motorcycle. It's very tempting to buy it though I haven't solved the storage question and I'm not sure if I am taking on another big financial mountain if this is the best time to take on another vehicle. It's OK…there are many years to ride and many years to climb and I'm sure all will become clear as I get quiet enough to listen.
I spent the week resting and making big reno decisions about the house (after 12 years-it's finally time to have laundry at home)…it's good to be home and I'm almost over my respiratory infection. My attention is turning towards creating an overall training program for Everest and the eight months between now and then. On Elbrus, I'd come up with the metaphor of prayer flags as a guide for training and I'll unfold that for you over the coming weeks. For now, I'll keep it short this week and invite you to view Elbrus pictures at http://bit.ly/CK3qJ
Have a good week,
TA
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Please support Elbrus: Climbing for my Dad July 2009
To donate to the Canadian Prostate Cancer Network,
please click on the following link: http://www.cpcn.org/honour_form.asp
Click the "In Honour" button and please fill out "Elbrus: Climbing for my Dad." For the acknowledgment card, please use my address (I don't want to beam out my parent's address for all to see in cyberspace). I'll forward all the acknowledgments to my dad.
TA Loeffler
7 Wood Street
St. John's, NL
A1C 3K8
Thanks in advance of your support of this worthy cause.
TA Loeffler Ph.D., Professor
3M National Teaching Fellow
School of Human Kinetics and Recreation
Memorial University of Newfoundland
St. John's, NL A1C 5S7
www.taloeffler.com
Phone: 709-737-8670
Fax: 709-737-3979
Office: PE 2011A
Email Office: taloeffler@mun.ca
Email Home: taloeffler@gmail.com
Those who lose dreaming are lost.
Australian Aboriginal Proverb
Courage is the price that life exacts for granting peace. The soul that knows it not, knows no release from little things; Knows not the livid loneliness of fear, nor mountain heights where bitter joy can hear the sound of wings.
Amelia Earhart
Remember that the most difficult tasks are consummated not by a single burst of energy or effort, but by consistent application of the best you have within you.
Og Mandino
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Sunday, July 26, 2009
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Elbrus...the rest of the story
Greetings from Moscow to All,
The Cliff Notes version…
I went to Russia and I climbed Mount Elbrus (5642 metres). It was a great climb and I learned a lot!
For those Paul Harvey fans, the rest of the story…
Elbrus is a quirky mountain. Truthfully I suspect, the only reason anyone climbs it, is that it is the tallest mountain in Europe and Russia. There are five routes up Elbrus but the vast majority of climbers begin their ascent in the village of Azou (2530 metres). Azou has the feel of "any ski town" with a variety of accommodations, small shops, and souvenirs slung along the one road that leads up the valley from Mineralnye Vody (the nearest city of any size). There's one difference, however, this ski village is in a remote Russian valley on the border with Georgia so there is no polish like many ski resorts in North America. Instead, there is a sense of primitivism and possibility, paucity and practicality, purulence and petulance.
Elbrus' twin peaks tower over the neighbouring Caucasus Mountains to the south. Their jagged toothed slopes cry out for climbers but for now, the access door to them is locked tight due to the dispute along the Georgian border. On one of our training hikes, we were warned not to wander past the border signs or we might be met with an unusual welcoming committee carrying large automatic weapons. Given that our team was Canadian (barring one United Kingdom import living in Seattle to whom we granted honourary Canadian status), we decided to give the Russian military a wide berth.
After four days of acclimatization hikes, it was time to head up the mountain. This moment is where Elbrus' surrealistic nature as a mountaineering objective first comes into clear view. Most ascend from Azou via ski lift. Ski lifts, actually. I remember in 2006 that I was most frightened by this part of the climb. I was certain the creaking old overloaded gondola would detach from the cable and plummet us all to our death. Given it is now 2009, you know that didn't happen. Three years later, we began our ascent on a state of the art German gondola that whisked us silently and steadily up the mountain invoking little or no fear. That is until I noticed the new gondola only went one-third of the way up to our destination.
For the middle part of the journey, we forewent modernism for another terrifying ride on a fifties-era flying rectangle that I prayed would hang onto its cable for one more ascent. Five heart-pounding minutes later, we emerged from the gondola station with one more conveyance to survive. A single sixties-era chairlift completed the ascent with our backpacks hanging from a hook on the main support arm of the chair. A flimsy safety bar kept us in our seats that were slightly askew from the weight of our packs. Liberated from this final airborne adventure, a short hike with backpacks on backs and food boxes in arms; we arrived at "The Barrels."
Climbers wishing a "pure ascent" of Elbrus (or who can't afford the lift ticket) walk up a steep gravel road to reach the same place (3800 metres). We had climbed to virtually the same elevation the day before so I didn't feel too guilty catching a lift. The mid-slopes of Elbrus are where the mountain shows off as a ski area. Even in July, these mid slopes are covered in brightly coloured skiers and snowboarders. A ski lift, appearing to be a cross between a T-Bar and Pommel lift takes these snow sport aficionados up 100 metres to test their meddle in a terrain park. Other skiers and snowboarders are whisked higher to 4500 metres by "snow cat" (large snow machine with tank like tracks that can ascent steep snow slopes) to fly down past the ever-slow marching mountaineers attempting to acclimatize.
You mention Elbrus to anyone who has been here and they will ask about "The Barrels." Each barrel sleeps six and is a cylinder about 3 metres wide by 3 metres high by 20 metres long. Constructed of steel, the barrels look like they may have once been culverts or piping of some kind, but were actually constructed as huts. With windows cut into the walls for light and some fine sixties paneling, these round and unique huts provided a comfortable home for the next four nights. The barrels, decorated like Russian flags, became a beacon for us each time we ventured up the mountain.
Though our move to the barrels was promised as a rest day, plans in Russia seemed to change more often than the weather. With our first lunch, deliciously prepared by our cook Olga, resting uncertainly in our bellies, Eugene declared it was time to climb up the mountain to further our acclimatization. A round of groans erupted in the group but we trusted his experience (this was to be his 69th ascent of Elbrus) and so went off to pack our backpacks. Marching in a tight line, resembling worker ants, we slowly exposed our bodies to ever thinning air. Our goal for the day was the next level of huts, the most notable of which is the "Diesel Hut".
Originally, there was the Pruitt Hut situated at 4060 metres. The Germans had built it during World War Two as they hoped to ascent Elbrus as a symbolic gesture of their conquering of Europe. Neither happened and the Pruitt Hut was burned to the ground by the Russians. The Pruitt Hut had a diesel generator shed that was eventually turned into the "Diesel Hut" that sleeps fifty climbers today. We thought we would be moving up to the Diesel Hut after a few nights but for reasons that were never explained to us, the Barrels would be our home for our entire stay. In talking with other climbers, we did learn that the Barrels were much more comfortable place to stay.
After a rough night's sleep for most given the jump in sleeping elevation from 2350 to 3800, we left early to climb to the top of the Pasckachov (sp?) Rocks (4700 metres) while the snow was still hard and the death star hadn't started beaming its burning rays. Still new to this elevation, the climb was slow yet steady. The passage to the Diesel was easier but the terrain then steepened more dramatically and we started to time our breathing with our stepping while utilizing the rest step. The rest step involves momentarily soft locking the back leg to rest on the skeleton instead of the leg muscles. Depending on the steepness and elevation, that momentary rest can stretch from a second to a minute.
During this five-hour climb, we were passed by several snow cats carrying skiers and snowboarders up for a run. With their load dispatched, the cats would turn and head down to fetch another. We actually climbed up either on or beside the tracks left by the cat. Continuing our measured ascent, we were introduced to a new mountain hazard, the skiers and snowboarders. Some, seemingly on the losing edge of control, zoomed by us, barely missing. I am used to avalanches and rock fall but this was the first time, I truly feared other humans in the mountains.
We topped out above the rocks and were rewarded with a view of Europe's second highest peak across the border in Georgia. Snacks and water on board, we now felt the full force of the sun beating down on our tender skin. The initial part of the descent from the rocks was very steep and so we stepped very mindfully through this section (on summit day a climber in another group broke his leg in this section). As soon as we emerged at the bottom of the rocks, skiers, snowboarders and snow cats bombarded us again. Did I mention that Elbrus is a quirky mountain?
The next day we finally enjoyed a rest day that was actually a rest day (our previous two "rest" days ended up having some training on them). I, for one, was glad for the rest because I had been battling a cold and allergies almost from the moment I arrived in Azou. Acclimatization hikes through reproducing grasses had me sneezing and clawing my eyes out. I developed a sore throat and feared that I was developing a cold. I knew that a cold can predispose one to high altitude pulmonary edema and I didn't want another climb to be interrupted by illness. I pumped the fluids and vitamin C, imagined my immune system fighting the virus, and prayed to the universe that I would heal quickly enough.
I tried very hard not to be generous and keep the virus to myself. I didn't want to infect anyone else on the team. When we ascended to the Barrels, I developed a nagging cough and the cold was fully leaking from my face through my nose. I keep drinking and hoping. Despite the copious amounts of liquid and mucous escaping from my being, I was pleased that the cold didn't seem to be zapping my energy. I spent the rest day reading and napping and packing for our summit attempt that would begin early the next morning.
Much of the rest day was also spent in debate about using or not using a snow cat to return us to 4500 metres. The vast majority of climbers who use the Barrel huts use the snow cats to spare them 700 metres of climbing the ski slopes to the bottom of the Pasckachov Rocks. On my previous attempt of Elbrus in 2006, we stayed at a hut at 4200 metres so did not use the snow cats on either of our attempts. Coming back a second time, looking at the realities of an 1800 metre summit day from the Barrels, debating where a climb actually begins, gnashing through climbing ethics, and finally embracing Elbrus' unique and strange climbing reality, I became willing to follow the guides' advice and use the cat to cover ground we'd already climbed. In the end, all agreed (though some still harboured doubts).
If I were to come back to Elbrus a third time, I would choose to climb expedition style from the north thus avoiding the skier and snowboarder hazard, women dressed in leopard skill bikinis, crowds, ski lifts, and all things unmountainering-like that Elbrus presents on its south side.
We had an early supper and I was tucked into bed by 6:30 pm with I-Pod trying to cajole me into early sleep. The alarm was set for 2:30 am. It was a restless night for all and there was relief all around when the alarm finally meant we could rouse for the big day ahead. The morning brought wind after several days of calm; it would be a cold day to climb. Breakfast was at 3:00 am. It was the easiest pre-summit breakfast of all for me–no retching or nausea and I managed to get a fair amount down to fuel the first part of the climb. We jumped aboard our snow chariot at four and we whisked up to 4500 metres to where the steep climbing began. The moment we stepped off the cat we were pummeled by the wind. I was glad I dressed warmly (I most often fear being too warm than too cold). I shed my big parka and soon we were underway.
Eugene was at the lead setting the pace for our ant line. I was directly behind him and fell easily into the pace. I set my intention to climb safe and well and to dedicate my efforts to my dad and to Moh Hardin, one of my Buddhist teachers. I used a Buddhist mantra to start the day and then found the song, "Michael Row the Boat Ashore" occupied my mind for the early part of the climb. I was smiling, felt quite confident (though kept that under wraps because I didn't want to piss off the mountain gods), and had a spring in my step (or at least as much spring as one can have after little sleep and at 4500 metres).
We wove our way up slope beside the Pasckachov rocks. When we faced west, the brisk wind blew directly into our faces and quickly chilled us. When we took the diagonal to the east, our backs to the wind, we warmed up. With relatively equal diagonals, I found that I guessed perfectly and my temperature was good, not too hot so I would sweat, and not to cold so I would risk frostbite. Above the rocks, the terrain steepened once more and our diagonal intervals became shorter as we traversed the slope more often. I had my eyes set on "The Traverse." We'd seen it for days from the Barrels below. From that vantage point, it looked well beaten in and "flat."
After a quick second break, I realized why expectations are so dangerous. The traverse was beaten in but it was not a flat surface at all. The 1.5 kilometre traverse clung tenuously to the slope and the climbing was uneven with most of the work falling to the downhill leg. This time there would be no relief to the East for two hours. Soon, my left calf and lower leg began to burn and scream out. I tried various foot positions, trying to duck walk or place my foot in a different orientation to the slope to get a bit of a break from the intense pressure on that foot.
This was the only moment of doubt for me on the summit day. Could I hold out? How bad would the burning get? Would my leg lose too much strength? In experiencing the burning, I thought of my dad and how the chemotherapy he has received for prostate cancer must have burned in his veins. I knew he had stuck it out so many times and I would do the same. I was in pain but I could manage it. Finally the traverse delivered us onto to the more level ground of the saddle between the two peaks and out of the wind.
We took our first substantial break of the morning after four hours of climbing to eat, drink, apply sunscreen, and mentally prepare for another step traverse of the west summit. I looked up at the line of climbers ahead of us and made another mental commitment to just keep putting one foot in front of another. Suddenly my left eye began to water and I felt intense pain. I quickly closed both eyes and wondered what was going on. I knew I had changed into dark glacier glasses as soon as the sun rose so it couldn't be snow blindness. I couldn't open my left eye. "Oh no," I said, " I am so close now." I remembered that retinas can detach at high altitude but I'd thought that was more like a black curtain coming down. Tears from the watering flow down my cheek and I was glad no one could see my face. "Should I tell Eugene?" I asked myself. I kept eating and kept my eyes shut. I wondered if I could climb with one eye. Then the right one didn't want to stay open. More watering. "Shit," I thought, "I can't risk my eyes." Drank more water. Ate more food. All with my eyes closed. One more try. I opened the right one. It seemed better. I cautiously opened the left one. It seemed better. Both eyes open now. The watering stopped. I could see. I could keep climbing. Who knows what happened…perhaps a piece of snow, ice, or sand got in there and irritated it.
There were four of us now climbing with Eugene. The rest were behind with Oleg and Keith. The weather was starting to get worse again so it was time to be on the move. This traverse, thankfully, favoured the other leg so the left one got a break. Eugene warned us that we could not see the summit from the saddle that we must go up and around to it. After the long traverse, a steep section awaited and the clouds descended and the wind picked up as soon as we stepped out onto the summit ridge. We could only see four metres in front of ourselves; we were shrouded in white.
Along the summit ridge, I spontaneously began to think of my dad, Heinz. Then I thought of his dad, Alois. My brother, Mike. My uncle, Joe. I silently expressed gratitude to them for their love and support. I continued to think of significant men in my life: Colin, Mr. Walton, Mr. Boyko, Mr. Carmel, Moh, Mr. Hamilton, Leo, Jean-Marcel, Matt, Jasper,…mentors, teachers, friends. With each step, I thought of these and others and again thanked them for being there for me. The terrain eased and I took the last step onto the highest point in Europe at 10:33 am on July 13, 2009.
I was elated. I'd finally gotten here! The weather was awful and we struggled to get summit pictures. I had to work hard to keep my various flags and Velma from blowing away. I had to be quick because I had my mitts off and didn't want my hands to freeze. There was no view just a group of folks sharing a high point of topography and the thrill of a summit reached. The climb was only half done and we steeled ourselves for the long descent. I felt glad that I am often a strong closer and followed Eugene down through the clouds. The saddle, again, was a place of respite. Fueling up for the 1200 metre descent to the barrels, the weather allowed me to make a brief call to the website to let folks know we had summitted.
Over the next hours, we climbed down. As we dropped in elevation, we met the snowmobilers. They were trying to high point on the mountain and came dangerously close to use as we re-crossed the epic traverse. Did I mention this mountain is quirky? The lower we got, the higher the temperature climbed and the sun began to bake us again. With limited water left, the climb down through porridge density snow seemed almost as tasking as climbing up. Finally at 2:40, we reached the Barrels, hot, bothered, dehydrated, and thrilled.
I immediately began to drink and get things hung up to dry. Olga's soup never tasted so good. I managed after an hour or so to call in an update that we were back safe but knew I was too tired to convey the subtleness of the experience. The last climber on our team returned at 5:00 pm. Most napped until dinner at 9 pm but I wrote in my journal and wrote and wrote. Fifteen pages of transcription captured both the technical and emotional lessons that Elbrus had taught me. I am still reflecting on and digesting those lessons but they relate to confidence, climbing through and with illness/injury, Buddhism, and the intersection of courage, intention, and generosity. More on these in the future as I come to a deeper understanding of them.
The wonderful combination of high strung conveyances that brought us to the Barrel Huts were sidelined by a lack of electricity so we had to hoof it down the steep access roads carrying our big packs. The middle Pterodactyl-like gondola had the audacity to start up just as we reached its bottom station. We had power in the village just long enough to enjoy that amazing first shower off a mountain and then enjoyed dinner by candlelight. The power stayed out for another 12 hours fortunately I'd gotten the laptop and I-pod charged before we lost juice.
When I got down, I felt like I'd been run over by a rather large Russian military truck. I was running a slight fever, had an intensely sore throat, and a productive cough. Followed Dr. Eugene's advice, I started some antibiotics to help kill off the little bugs I couldn't manage on my own. I passed on the last day's hiking to rest and recover. After nearly 18 hours of horizontal time, I'm beginning to feel human again.
I never climb alone. I always know a loving and caring community, that spans the globe, surrounds me. Thanks to all who made contributions to the Canadian Prostate Cancer Network. (It's not to late-you can still donate).
• Thanks to my family–especially my dad–for your inspiration, love, and belief in me.
• Thanks as well to my partner, Marian, for her unwavering support of my climbing endeavours.
• Thanks to Karen, my best buddy, for always knowing the exact right words to say.
• To Earl for his generosity with his time to be my communications manager on this and many other climbs.
• Thanks to Deb and Wilma and the Applecore crew (and everyone else who came as well) for making my Signal Hill birthday bash a resounding training and awareness success.
• Thanks to Nadia and Natelle for being great training partners.
• Thanks to Susan, my Buddhist personal trainer, for the slogans I used on the climb to work with my mind.
• Thanks to Memorial University of Newfoundland for its support and specially for some of the folks in Allied Health Services who helped get my body ready given many injuries (Amy, Todd, and Tim).
• Thanks as well to Janine and Janice for help with my body as well.
• Thanks to Jeff Fryday at Tim Horton's who went above and beyond to get me my traveling companion, Velma the Vanilla Dip. I finished two dreams that I started in 2006 (climbing Elbrus and taking a Vanilla Dip with me).
• Thanks to our guides, Keith, Oleg, and Eugene and to my teammates: Marie, Thomas, Chris, Peter, Jeff, Clement, and Isabel.
• Finally, thanks to all of you who follow along, think of me, pray for me, send messages of encouragement, and eagerly await each installment of the adventure. Your presence and participation in my climbs (and life) are a precious gift to me.
With gratitude,
TA
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Elbrus Updates
HI All,
Here is a composite of TA's most recent posts from Elbrus
Foot of the Mountain Elbrus #5
Hi this is TA calling in from the foot of Mount Elbrus in Russia. We arrived here after a fairly long day of travel, up early to get to the airport, a couple hours of flying on Aeroflot, then another four hours of driving and trying to find one of our gangs luggage, we are hoping that it gets here soon for him. We had a wonderful dinner, we are staying at a brand new ski lodge here. Tomorrow we start our acclimatization walk/hike/climb. It sounds like we are going to be down in the valley here for three or four nights and then we will start t moving up the mountain to the various huts. So time to start drinking lots of water, getting well hydrated because we made a big jump we are at 2350 metres above sea level just around 7500 feet or so. So far so good, the foots alright, the backs alright, holding their own. Although, it was a bit iffy moving some of the bags suddenly I wished I had packed much lighter as I often do
So that's me checking in here from the foot of Mount Elbrus
Talk to you again tomorrow
Take care
TA
Bathe of Endorphins Elbrus #6
Hi this is TA calling in from the village of Azau at the foot of Mount Elbrus. We had our first acclimatization hike today, we went from above the village of Cheget, starting at an elevation of about 2100 metres and climbed to 3100 metres. It was a good first climb since we just came up to 2350 yesterday. I started quite strong; 3 hours in I started to fade a bit realizing that I probably started a little too fast. So I was a bit humbled, but I knew I would be on this particular climb knowing that I was going in a little less fit then I usually do. But, the foot did well, the back did well. I'm enjoying the bathe of endorphins at the moment and the excitement of seeing the twin peaks of Elbrus across the valley today the sun broke through and let us see our objective. Tomorrow we are heading out to the observatory so we will get a view of the caucus. Things are going well the groups all getting along great. Enjoying our food here at the hotel it is quite unique or I should say its quite Russian. Some of the folks are learning about that, but all in all I go by the motto he or she who eats the most and drinks the most water gets to the top of the mountain, so you know what I'm doing. Heading into dinner now and then hopefully a really good rest for our second night at this elevation
Thanks so much for tuning in…take good care
Bye
TA
Stuart McLean at Altitude Elbrus #7
Hi this is TA calling in from the village of Azau again, at the foot of Mount Elbrus in Russia. We had another great day of acclimatizing the weathers been spectacular, sunny, blue and warm, but not super hot, a nice cooling breeze seemed to come along whenever we needed it. We went out on the slopes of the foothills of Mount Elbrus today heading towards an observatory that has quote on quote "free guard dogs", i.e: you can't actually get too close to the observatory or the guard dogs will get you. Things went well, people are climbing well, we had a little bit of an easier pace today which makes it easier to find that rhythm that lets you go uphill for hours on end. I'm a little afraid that I might be brewing a little bit of a cold so I'm trying to pump the fluids and get lots of rest. I slept pretty darn well last night thanks to the vinyl café on my iPod it helps put me back to sleep when I wake up at altitude. So all is going well, we have a couple more days of acclimatization down here and then we will start moving up the mountain. Got another great view of the twin peaks of Mount Elbrus today as people were trying to imagine what it will be like to get up high.
That's all there is to report from here today.
Thanks for following along and if any of you WOKies are out there and want send a few little encouraging words to the Sat phone I would love that.
Hope all is well…take good care.
Talk to you soon
TA
Finding Strength Elbrus #8
Hi this is TA calling in from Azau again, at the foot of Mount Elbrus. We had another day of acclimatization; we went up the valley above the actual village of Elbrus and saw another approach that is sometimes used to climb the mountain. A couple of us were salivating at the idea we could actually climb it right from the bottom in traditional mountaineering style, but that's not on our particular agenda. It was a bit of a low energy day for me, I didn't sleep particularly well last night because of a severe soar throat, but I'm trying to drink lots. I know that whatever I'm suffering now with a little cold at altitude is nothing compared to what my dad has had to endure in his struggle with prostate cancer. I know that some folks know that I have been carrying Velma the doughnut with me, in some ways Velma is a bit of a joke about my love of vanilla dips, but its also a symbol to me of my dad because he was known for his generosity at work and was always the one bringing the doughnuts to the boys for coffee. So I think of him every time I pull Velma out. I'm thinking of you a lot dad, love you lots, your strength is bringing me forward. I'm also carrying some prayer flags in support of my Buddhist teacher Mo Harden who has also started the journey with prostate cancer. I'm hopefully going to get those prayer flags to the summit for him as well, and I think about him with each step I take up the mountain.
We have another big acclimatization day tomorrow moving from here at about 2100 metres all the way up to 3600 metres to the old ice camp, which was the way they used to climb Elbrus. Then we pack and get some lunch stuff together for our trip up to the barrel huts the next day. We've had the most amazingly hot gorgeous weather we all have to make sure we get on sunscreen on because it has been very, very warm. We have been blessed with cloud free skies and stunning views of the Caucasus. Today we could look over and actually see some of the peaks that are on the other side of the boarder in Georgia. We actually cant spend much time on that side at the moment because of the dispute. So we are looking from afar at some pretty amazing snow covered peaks, sort of wanting to be there as well some times the groups been able to go over, if they are able to summit Elbrus early. So that's it from here. Hope you all are doing well; send your healing thoughts my way. I'm drinking lots of orange juice and trying to rest as much as I can.
Appreciate you all coming along for the journey
Take good care
Bye
TA
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Please support Elbrus: Climbing for my Dad July 2009
To donate to the Canadian Prostate Cancer Network,
please click on the following link: http://www.cpcn.org/honour_form.asp
Click the "In Honour" button and please fill out "Elbrus: Climbing for my Dad." For the acknowledgment card, please use my address (I don't want to beam out my parent's address for all to see in cyberspace). I'll forward all the acknowledgments to my dad.
TA Loeffler
7 Wood Street
St. John's, NL
A1C 3K8
Thanks in advance of your support of this worthy cause.
TA Loeffler Ph.D., Professor
3M National Teaching Fellow
School of Human Kinetics and Recreation
Memorial University of Newfoundland
St. John's, NL A1C 5S7
www.taloeffler.com
Phone: 709-737-8670
Fax: 709-737-3979
Office: PE 2011A
Email Office: taloeffler@mun.ca
Email Home: taloeffler@gmail.com
Those who lose dreaming are lost.
Australian Aboriginal Proverb
Courage is the price that life exacts for granting peace. The soul that knows it not, knows no release from little things; Knows not the livid loneliness of fear, nor mountain heights where bitter joy can hear the sound of wings.
Amelia Earhart
Remember that the most difficult tasks are consummated not by a single burst of energy or effort, but by consistent application of the best you have within you.
Og Mandino
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Saturday, July 4, 2009
River of Weddings: Elbrus Update #3
Happy Fourth of July to all my US Friends,
Another fine day in Moscow. Six of us set out to enjoy a boat tour of the Moscow River. Fortunately, the Metro stop for the boat trip was the same one I used yesterday so I got to feel like an expert riding the subway. We decided on the on-off option so we could get off the boat and explore along the way.
Fifty bridges cross over the Moscow River and I think we passed under ten of them today including the one I crossed yesterday. Now I have to start off with a confession. Yesterday I lied. Out of ignorance. Or misremembering. When I said I looked down river to the White House, today I realized I looked down river to the main building of Moscow University. So please accept my apologies for leading you geographically astray. I know this because Jeff was being a fine tour guide.
He had printed off route description for the boat tour and read it aloud for us as we passed the sights along the way. We got off the boat at the university stop and climbed the hill instead of riding the chairlift up. Yes, indeed there is a small ski hill on the banks of the river along with two all weather ski jumps. We had very good timing all day including arriving at the top just in time to see a ski jumper fly through the air (see the pictures at http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=275198&id=509940550&l=3a3e5e55e5
We also posed for pictures and I introduced Velma to the team. They were instantly taken to her and the story of how she came to be on the climb. Folks were eager to help capture the various pictures throughout the day. We saw at least 15 wedding parties and I thought the real coup of the day would have been Velma in a wedding party but I didn't have the heart (or courage) to interrupt someone's special day.
After the university, we went down river to Moscow's oldest garden/park. We wondered around the forest for a time and everyone remarked about the large quantity of green space and trees that are present around the city. I'll have another example to share with my outdoor recreation management class. We then got back on the boat and passed by a unique sculpture/statue in the river. Supposedly it was to be a monument to Christopher Columbus but we heard the US didn't want to accept the gift. The folks here decided instead to mount another great sea explorer's head on Chris' body and kept it for themselves.
We boated by the Kremlin and St. Basil's and it was unique to see them from the water. We passed the amazing glass building of the music conservatory and got off the boat. We walked back to Red Square/Kremlin along a river canal and got to see parts of Moscow that are being redeveloped with the strength of capitalism here. I hadn't thought I'd see Red Square this time around but was glad that Velma got to see them. She enjoyed taking some pictures.
By this time, we were getting to feel like old hands on the metro (amazing what one day and having a group surround you will do) and we made our way back in time for the group meeting. Keith, our guide from BC, spent the day with those of us on the boat trip. I got to learn a lot about the pressures that heli-ski guides face in trying to keep clients happy and safe and their employers happy as well. He's a very experienced all around mountain guide and I look forward to both learning from and climbing with him. He's climbed Elbrus three times before.
Marie, Jeff, Isabel and Jean-Francois are from Quebec. Marie is a natural linguist and is light years ahead of the rest of us in her Russian speaking abilities. At times today I was learning to speak Russian in French…that was a bit of a stretch for my linguo challenged brain. Chris is from Calgary. Thomas from Halifax and Peter from Seattle. It's great to have a small team this time around and I enjoyed spending the day out exploring with several of them.
We're up early tomorrow to fly to Mineral Vode and then the four hour drive to Cheget. It was great to stretch our legs some today and Monday we will begin our acclimatization hikes in the lower valley. As I mentioned earlier, it's likely this will be my last typed update and I'll be switching to voice ones tomorrow (though you never know how much the internet may have spread in the last few years.)
Thanks for coming along and I'll catch you next from Southern Russia,
Hope all is well with you,
TA
--
*******************************************************************************
Please support Elbrus: Climbing for my Dad July 2009
To donate to the Canadian Prostate Cancer Network,
please click on the following link: http://www.cpcn.org/honour_form.asp
Click the "In Honour" button and please fill out "Elbrus: Climbing for my Dad." For the acknowledgment card, please use my address (I don't want to beam out my parent's address for all to see in cyberspace). I'll forward all the acknowledgments to my dad.
TA Loeffler
7 Wood Street
St. John's, NL
A1C 3K8
Thanks in advance of your support of this worthy cause.
TA Loeffler Ph.D., Professor
3M National Teaching Fellow
School of Human Kinetics and Recreation
Memorial University of Newfoundland
St. John's, NL A1C 5S7
www.taloeffler.com
Phone: 709-737-8670
Fax: 709-737-3979
Office: PE 2011A
Email Office: taloeffler@mun.ca
Email Home: taloeffler@gmail.com
Those who lose dreaming are lost.
Australian Aboriginal Proverb
Courage is the price that life exacts for granting peace. The soul that knows it not, knows no release from little things; Knows not the livid loneliness of fear, nor mountain heights where bitter joy can hear the sound of wings.
Amelia Earhart
Remember that the most difficult tasks are consummated not by a single burst of energy or effort, but by consistent application of the best you have within you.
Og Mandino
*******************************************************************************
Another fine day in Moscow. Six of us set out to enjoy a boat tour of the Moscow River. Fortunately, the Metro stop for the boat trip was the same one I used yesterday so I got to feel like an expert riding the subway. We decided on the on-off option so we could get off the boat and explore along the way.
Fifty bridges cross over the Moscow River and I think we passed under ten of them today including the one I crossed yesterday. Now I have to start off with a confession. Yesterday I lied. Out of ignorance. Or misremembering. When I said I looked down river to the White House, today I realized I looked down river to the main building of Moscow University. So please accept my apologies for leading you geographically astray. I know this because Jeff was being a fine tour guide.
He had printed off route description for the boat tour and read it aloud for us as we passed the sights along the way. We got off the boat at the university stop and climbed the hill instead of riding the chairlift up. Yes, indeed there is a small ski hill on the banks of the river along with two all weather ski jumps. We had very good timing all day including arriving at the top just in time to see a ski jumper fly through the air (see the pictures at http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=275198&id=509940550&l=3a3e5e55e5
We also posed for pictures and I introduced Velma to the team. They were instantly taken to her and the story of how she came to be on the climb. Folks were eager to help capture the various pictures throughout the day. We saw at least 15 wedding parties and I thought the real coup of the day would have been Velma in a wedding party but I didn't have the heart (or courage) to interrupt someone's special day.
After the university, we went down river to Moscow's oldest garden/park. We wondered around the forest for a time and everyone remarked about the large quantity of green space and trees that are present around the city. I'll have another example to share with my outdoor recreation management class. We then got back on the boat and passed by a unique sculpture/statue in the river. Supposedly it was to be a monument to Christopher Columbus but we heard the US didn't want to accept the gift. The folks here decided instead to mount another great sea explorer's head on Chris' body and kept it for themselves.
We boated by the Kremlin and St. Basil's and it was unique to see them from the water. We passed the amazing glass building of the music conservatory and got off the boat. We walked back to Red Square/Kremlin along a river canal and got to see parts of Moscow that are being redeveloped with the strength of capitalism here. I hadn't thought I'd see Red Square this time around but was glad that Velma got to see them. She enjoyed taking some pictures.
By this time, we were getting to feel like old hands on the metro (amazing what one day and having a group surround you will do) and we made our way back in time for the group meeting. Keith, our guide from BC, spent the day with those of us on the boat trip. I got to learn a lot about the pressures that heli-ski guides face in trying to keep clients happy and safe and their employers happy as well. He's a very experienced all around mountain guide and I look forward to both learning from and climbing with him. He's climbed Elbrus three times before.
Marie, Jeff, Isabel and Jean-Francois are from Quebec. Marie is a natural linguist and is light years ahead of the rest of us in her Russian speaking abilities. At times today I was learning to speak Russian in French…that was a bit of a stretch for my linguo challenged brain. Chris is from Calgary. Thomas from Halifax and Peter from Seattle. It's great to have a small team this time around and I enjoyed spending the day out exploring with several of them.
We're up early tomorrow to fly to Mineral Vode and then the four hour drive to Cheget. It was great to stretch our legs some today and Monday we will begin our acclimatization hikes in the lower valley. As I mentioned earlier, it's likely this will be my last typed update and I'll be switching to voice ones tomorrow (though you never know how much the internet may have spread in the last few years.)
Thanks for coming along and I'll catch you next from Southern Russia,
Hope all is well with you,
TA
--
*******************************************************************************
Please support Elbrus: Climbing for my Dad July 2009
To donate to the Canadian Prostate Cancer Network,
please click on the following link: http://www.cpcn.org/honour_form.asp
Click the "In Honour" button and please fill out "Elbrus: Climbing for my Dad." For the acknowledgment card, please use my address (I don't want to beam out my parent's address for all to see in cyberspace). I'll forward all the acknowledgments to my dad.
TA Loeffler
7 Wood Street
St. John's, NL
A1C 3K8
Thanks in advance of your support of this worthy cause.
TA Loeffler Ph.D., Professor
3M National Teaching Fellow
School of Human Kinetics and Recreation
Memorial University of Newfoundland
St. John's, NL A1C 5S7
www.taloeffler.com
Phone: 709-737-8670
Fax: 709-737-3979
Office: PE 2011A
Email Office: taloeffler@mun.ca
Email Home: taloeffler@gmail.com
Those who lose dreaming are lost.
Australian Aboriginal Proverb
Courage is the price that life exacts for granting peace. The soul that knows it not, knows no release from little things; Knows not the livid loneliness of fear, nor mountain heights where bitter joy can hear the sound of wings.
Amelia Earhart
Remember that the most difficult tasks are consummated not by a single burst of energy or effort, but by consistent application of the best you have within you.
Og Mandino
*******************************************************************************
Friday, July 3, 2009
Cyrillic Adventures: Elbrus Update #2
Hello from Moscow,
I probably knew just enough to get myself in trouble. Not enough to know which station I was heading for or which one to transfer at or even if I needed to transfer. Perhaps I should have done a little more research but then again, it all worked out okay. I found the cats. The theatre of cats…the Moscow Cat Theatre that has been entertaining the children of Moscow since 1893.
I should probably begin at the beginning. Whenever time allowed at home, I stole a few minutes to look at what I might do in Moscow with my extra days. Having been here a few times before, I had seen all the regular sights: Red Square, The Kremlin, the view from Moscow University…so on one website, I searched for unusual attractions and two animal theatres popped up. I was instantly captivated. Perhaps it was because my dad is a huge animal lover and I knew he would love to watch such performances. Or perhaps it was because I was cut from the same cloth as him. I watched youtube videos on The Cat Theatre and knew I would try to get there.
After a hearty Russian buffet breakfast, I set out with a miniature map of the Moscow Metro system. My driver the day before had pointed in the general vicinity of the subway station so I headed off in that direction. On my first pass around the massive hotel grounds, I saw nothing that resembled a station, only currency exchanges that gave a better rate than I gotten the night before. Not wanting to look lost or like a tourist, I veered left and entered the large tourist market. All the doors were barred because the market is only open on weekends. I ended up circling the entire complex (about a 2 km walk) before steeling myself for another attempt at finding the station.
See, the shy person, Me, doesn't ask for directions at the best of time even when surrounded by Anglophones. Here, where the signs are in Cyrillic and where English speakers are harder to find, I knew I would depend extra on my ability to pick up clues from the environment. Nearing the commercial centre a second time, I noticed a large map of the hotel complex (it has four towers and can serve 3000 guests) that actually had a "You are Here" dot and showed where the metro station was. Bingo. I walked right to the subway station and watched people buy tickets at the wicket. Fortunately I had looked up the fare, 22 roubles, so just walked up to the wicket, handed over a 50 rouble note and held up two fingers. Instantly I had a ticket to ride, twice.
I watched people hold their tickets over a certain dot on the entrance gate and did exactly what they did. Wahoo. I was in. Two tracks. I knew I was near the end of the line and there were three stops beyond the hotel. I went to the track that had more station names. I couldn't read any of the station names since they were in Cyrillic. I made a point to "drop some bread crumbs by making a special note of the station name where I started the grand adventure so I could get back home. This had all happened so fast that I didn't know what station I was heading for. All I had was the small metro map on the back of my hotel key holder and I needed a magnifying glass to read it. I had three possible destinations: The Cat Theatre, The Animal Theatre, or the Zoo. I had English names for the stations I needed to find for all three but not the Cyrillic.
What to do? What to do? I decided to get off the blue line, on which I was riding, at one of the stations that had multiple lines, that way I figured, I could probably get to almost anywhere. I got off at the intersection of the blue, brown, green and red line at a station whose name sounded a lot like the famous nightclub area of Moscow, the Arbat. Turns out it was, though I'd not seen it, because after searching around a bit, I found a larger subway map which showed the station I wanted was three stops further down the blue line I'd just gotten off of. I found my way back, deciphered which way I needed the train to go and thus which track to stand beside and voila, seconds later came another train. This one, older than the first, didn't have the fancy little light up line marker that indicated which station we were approaching. I just had to count. And watch. And remember what the Cyrillic name was for the station I wanted.
Got it. Which way out? The instructions I had, said "Go out by the last train." Hmmm. No way out there. Alas, follow the masses. Emerge into daylight and wonder which way now. Spot a beautiful square (Moscow is famous for them) and take a few pictures (it was the Ensemble of the Square of Europe). There was a bridge over the Moscow River from which I could see the Russian "White House" up river. I'd driven past it on previous visits. Velma and I took a few photos and then it was time to get down to finding the target of our mission, The Cat Theatre.
I consulted the instructions once more and it said take a trolley or a bus or walk. Since the first two options often require speaking to the driver, I elected the last. My only difficulty was that there were two major streets, neither of which was identified. I started down the one by the river and after a few kilometers started to get the intuitive hit that this wasn't the one. I turned around and backtracked to my last known location and then went beyond. At one point, I thought I could read the big Cyrillic sign that said turn left for something so I did. I decided right then, like on the mountain, that "the path was the goal" and that it was a lovely day for a walk.
I kept walking and this major street had a few signs translated into English with some distance indicated. There was hope. At one point, I was certain I was heading in the right direction and on the right road. I was. I arrived at the Cat Theatre Box Office and it miraculously had a show beginning in an hour. I managed to decipher that much from the posters on the wall and now it was time to try to buy a ticket. With a few hand gestures, a bit of pointing, and some bad Russian on my part, I had a ticket. For the next hour I watched many families come and do the same. Grandmothers and their grand kids, moms and tots, aunts and nieces, and Velma and I. I was one of the few unaccompanied adults. The average age of the audience was about eight.
The show was delightful. Think of crossing clowns, cats and Cirque de Soliel and you'll get some idea of the show. Kids were dying of laughter at the clowns and the antics of the cats. I was in stitches watching the whole thing and was glad my intuition led me there. The journey home went pretty much with incident and I was even brave enough to enter the station a different way which meant joining the sea of humanity moving from track to track in a steady Friday afternoon at 6 pm kind of way. We were each a corpuscle moving through the underground capillaries that led to the major arteries that housed the trains. I got an old train again so I had to count stations. I noticed that my brain was beginning to understand the muffled voices of the train conductors and I was starting to see meaningful patterns in the Cyrillic.
I realized I had lots of travel tips for shy folks (probably for regular folks as well). Things like subways are often easier than buses, grocery stores easier than corner stores, places with fixed prices are easier than bargaining…then again, those are mostly common sense. As the day worn on, I started to remember tips and tricks acquired from many trips abroad: carry toilet paper wherever you go, put small bills in a handy pocket, keep bills grouped by denomination since they are all unfamiliar, take a card along with the hotel's address and phone number, carry water and a snack, listen to your intuition on many levels, etc. etc.
I remembered my first big trip alone. To Mexico City and I had to arrive three days ahead of the rest of the group. I thought at first, speaking no Spanish, that I might spend the entire three days hiding in my room. But instead, I made gentle forays into my new world. I learned in small steps how to exchange currency, find a meal, and eventually get all over the city on the metro. Today, 23 years later, I summon the same courage to learn the same things again in another large city.
Soon after arriving back at the hotel, I met my roommate for the trip Marie. She's from Montreal. We hooked up with the rest of the team-everyone has arrived and only one has to deal with the trauma of finding lost luggage. We are eight climbers (three women and five men) and our guide, Keith. We have one more day to explore Moscow and then it's off to southern Russia on the fifth.
There is likely little email access once we leave Moscow so enjoy these first few verbose updates as I'll be switching to phoned in ones from the satellite phone in a few days. Pictures from today's adventures can be found at this link: http://bit.ly/FHWTU
Have a great weekend,
TA
--
*******************************************************************************
Please support Elbrus: Climbing for my Dad July 2009
To donate to the Canadian Prostate Cancer Network,
please click on the following link: http://www.cpcn.org/honour_form.asp
Click the "In Honour" button and please fill out "Elbrus: Climbing for my Dad." For the acknowledgment card, please use my address (I don't want to beam out my parent's address for all to see in cyberspace). I'll forward all the acknowledgments to my dad.
TA Loeffler
7 Wood Street
St. John's, NL
A1C 3K8
Thanks in advance of your support of this worthy cause.
TA Loeffler Ph.D., Professor
3M National Teaching Fellow
School of Human Kinetics and Recreation
Memorial University of Newfoundland
St. John's, NL A1C 5S7
www.taloeffler.com
Phone: 709-737-8670
Fax: 709-737-3979
Office: PE 2011A
Email Office: taloeffler@mun.ca
Email Home: taloeffler@gmail.com
Those who lose dreaming are lost.
Australian Aboriginal Proverb
Courage is the price that life exacts for granting peace. The soul that knows it not, knows no release from little things; Knows not the livid loneliness of fear, nor mountain heights where bitter joy can hear the sound of wings.
Amelia Earhart
Remember that the most difficult tasks are consummated not by a single burst of energy or effort, but by consistent application of the best you have within you.
Og Mandino
*******************************************************************************
I probably knew just enough to get myself in trouble. Not enough to know which station I was heading for or which one to transfer at or even if I needed to transfer. Perhaps I should have done a little more research but then again, it all worked out okay. I found the cats. The theatre of cats…the Moscow Cat Theatre that has been entertaining the children of Moscow since 1893.
I should probably begin at the beginning. Whenever time allowed at home, I stole a few minutes to look at what I might do in Moscow with my extra days. Having been here a few times before, I had seen all the regular sights: Red Square, The Kremlin, the view from Moscow University…so on one website, I searched for unusual attractions and two animal theatres popped up. I was instantly captivated. Perhaps it was because my dad is a huge animal lover and I knew he would love to watch such performances. Or perhaps it was because I was cut from the same cloth as him. I watched youtube videos on The Cat Theatre and knew I would try to get there.
After a hearty Russian buffet breakfast, I set out with a miniature map of the Moscow Metro system. My driver the day before had pointed in the general vicinity of the subway station so I headed off in that direction. On my first pass around the massive hotel grounds, I saw nothing that resembled a station, only currency exchanges that gave a better rate than I gotten the night before. Not wanting to look lost or like a tourist, I veered left and entered the large tourist market. All the doors were barred because the market is only open on weekends. I ended up circling the entire complex (about a 2 km walk) before steeling myself for another attempt at finding the station.
See, the shy person, Me, doesn't ask for directions at the best of time even when surrounded by Anglophones. Here, where the signs are in Cyrillic and where English speakers are harder to find, I knew I would depend extra on my ability to pick up clues from the environment. Nearing the commercial centre a second time, I noticed a large map of the hotel complex (it has four towers and can serve 3000 guests) that actually had a "You are Here" dot and showed where the metro station was. Bingo. I walked right to the subway station and watched people buy tickets at the wicket. Fortunately I had looked up the fare, 22 roubles, so just walked up to the wicket, handed over a 50 rouble note and held up two fingers. Instantly I had a ticket to ride, twice.
I watched people hold their tickets over a certain dot on the entrance gate and did exactly what they did. Wahoo. I was in. Two tracks. I knew I was near the end of the line and there were three stops beyond the hotel. I went to the track that had more station names. I couldn't read any of the station names since they were in Cyrillic. I made a point to "drop some bread crumbs by making a special note of the station name where I started the grand adventure so I could get back home. This had all happened so fast that I didn't know what station I was heading for. All I had was the small metro map on the back of my hotel key holder and I needed a magnifying glass to read it. I had three possible destinations: The Cat Theatre, The Animal Theatre, or the Zoo. I had English names for the stations I needed to find for all three but not the Cyrillic.
What to do? What to do? I decided to get off the blue line, on which I was riding, at one of the stations that had multiple lines, that way I figured, I could probably get to almost anywhere. I got off at the intersection of the blue, brown, green and red line at a station whose name sounded a lot like the famous nightclub area of Moscow, the Arbat. Turns out it was, though I'd not seen it, because after searching around a bit, I found a larger subway map which showed the station I wanted was three stops further down the blue line I'd just gotten off of. I found my way back, deciphered which way I needed the train to go and thus which track to stand beside and voila, seconds later came another train. This one, older than the first, didn't have the fancy little light up line marker that indicated which station we were approaching. I just had to count. And watch. And remember what the Cyrillic name was for the station I wanted.
Got it. Which way out? The instructions I had, said "Go out by the last train." Hmmm. No way out there. Alas, follow the masses. Emerge into daylight and wonder which way now. Spot a beautiful square (Moscow is famous for them) and take a few pictures (it was the Ensemble of the Square of Europe). There was a bridge over the Moscow River from which I could see the Russian "White House" up river. I'd driven past it on previous visits. Velma and I took a few photos and then it was time to get down to finding the target of our mission, The Cat Theatre.
I consulted the instructions once more and it said take a trolley or a bus or walk. Since the first two options often require speaking to the driver, I elected the last. My only difficulty was that there were two major streets, neither of which was identified. I started down the one by the river and after a few kilometers started to get the intuitive hit that this wasn't the one. I turned around and backtracked to my last known location and then went beyond. At one point, I thought I could read the big Cyrillic sign that said turn left for something so I did. I decided right then, like on the mountain, that "the path was the goal" and that it was a lovely day for a walk.
I kept walking and this major street had a few signs translated into English with some distance indicated. There was hope. At one point, I was certain I was heading in the right direction and on the right road. I was. I arrived at the Cat Theatre Box Office and it miraculously had a show beginning in an hour. I managed to decipher that much from the posters on the wall and now it was time to try to buy a ticket. With a few hand gestures, a bit of pointing, and some bad Russian on my part, I had a ticket. For the next hour I watched many families come and do the same. Grandmothers and their grand kids, moms and tots, aunts and nieces, and Velma and I. I was one of the few unaccompanied adults. The average age of the audience was about eight.
The show was delightful. Think of crossing clowns, cats and Cirque de Soliel and you'll get some idea of the show. Kids were dying of laughter at the clowns and the antics of the cats. I was in stitches watching the whole thing and was glad my intuition led me there. The journey home went pretty much with incident and I was even brave enough to enter the station a different way which meant joining the sea of humanity moving from track to track in a steady Friday afternoon at 6 pm kind of way. We were each a corpuscle moving through the underground capillaries that led to the major arteries that housed the trains. I got an old train again so I had to count stations. I noticed that my brain was beginning to understand the muffled voices of the train conductors and I was starting to see meaningful patterns in the Cyrillic.
I realized I had lots of travel tips for shy folks (probably for regular folks as well). Things like subways are often easier than buses, grocery stores easier than corner stores, places with fixed prices are easier than bargaining…then again, those are mostly common sense. As the day worn on, I started to remember tips and tricks acquired from many trips abroad: carry toilet paper wherever you go, put small bills in a handy pocket, keep bills grouped by denomination since they are all unfamiliar, take a card along with the hotel's address and phone number, carry water and a snack, listen to your intuition on many levels, etc. etc.
I remembered my first big trip alone. To Mexico City and I had to arrive three days ahead of the rest of the group. I thought at first, speaking no Spanish, that I might spend the entire three days hiding in my room. But instead, I made gentle forays into my new world. I learned in small steps how to exchange currency, find a meal, and eventually get all over the city on the metro. Today, 23 years later, I summon the same courage to learn the same things again in another large city.
Soon after arriving back at the hotel, I met my roommate for the trip Marie. She's from Montreal. We hooked up with the rest of the team-everyone has arrived and only one has to deal with the trauma of finding lost luggage. We are eight climbers (three women and five men) and our guide, Keith. We have one more day to explore Moscow and then it's off to southern Russia on the fifth.
There is likely little email access once we leave Moscow so enjoy these first few verbose updates as I'll be switching to phoned in ones from the satellite phone in a few days. Pictures from today's adventures can be found at this link: http://bit.ly/FHWTU
Have a great weekend,
TA
--
*******************************************************************************
Please support Elbrus: Climbing for my Dad July 2009
To donate to the Canadian Prostate Cancer Network,
please click on the following link: http://www.cpcn.org/honour_form.asp
Click the "In Honour" button and please fill out "Elbrus: Climbing for my Dad." For the acknowledgment card, please use my address (I don't want to beam out my parent's address for all to see in cyberspace). I'll forward all the acknowledgments to my dad.
TA Loeffler
7 Wood Street
St. John's, NL
A1C 3K8
Thanks in advance of your support of this worthy cause.
TA Loeffler Ph.D., Professor
3M National Teaching Fellow
School of Human Kinetics and Recreation
Memorial University of Newfoundland
St. John's, NL A1C 5S7
www.taloeffler.com
Phone: 709-737-8670
Fax: 709-737-3979
Office: PE 2011A
Email Office: taloeffler@mun.ca
Email Home: taloeffler@gmail.com
Those who lose dreaming are lost.
Australian Aboriginal Proverb
Courage is the price that life exacts for granting peace. The soul that knows it not, knows no release from little things; Knows not the livid loneliness of fear, nor mountain heights where bitter joy can hear the sound of wings.
Amelia Earhart
Remember that the most difficult tasks are consummated not by a single burst of energy or effort, but by consistent application of the best you have within you.
Og Mandino
*******************************************************************************
Out of the Bardo: Elbrus Update #1
Greetings from Moscow,
The bardo, in Tibetan, is the place between death and birth; a transition zone between the last existence and the next. For me, in this life, the airplane is the nearest experience to the bardo I can imagine. In the days leading up to a big climb, days are filling with the endless task of ticking items a perpetual to do list. It's as if every task that has been postponed over the past six months screams for closure before the artificial deadline of Air Canada Flight 693 to Toronto.
Sent off with plenty of hugs and good wishes, I clamber down the jet way into the never never land of the winged aluminum sausage that will magically, (in my humble opinion), transport me from here to there. I settle gingerly down into my seat for my back is still tender accepting that this is "my home" for the next twenty-four hours or so. Airplane time is the purest form of leisure for me. I read. I watch. I daydream. And if I surrender to the bardo, I often find that I arrive "too soon."
As I don't have a TV, the seat back entertainment centres invoke the joy of Easter morning. Brightly coloured, multi-media treats are hidden behind layered menus waiting to be found with the poke of a finger. I plug into a world of drama, escape, and edutainment and we land in Toronto before I know it. The moment has arrived. I scamper towards the baggage claim, for just beyond its gates, lies a Tim Horton's outlet. It is here I am to meet Velma II.
Those who have been along on this amazing journey of mine for some time may remember back to the summer of 2006 where a newly minted passion for mountaineering and an uncommon fondness for Tim Horton's Vanilla Dips first met. I'd hoped to take a Vanilla Dip to the summit of Mount Elbrus. I tried several methods of getting the donut ready for the rigorous journey. I dried the first one out. Then shellacked it. Bad idea. The shellac caused all the sprinkles to lose their colour and become amorous balls of white sugar. For the second attempt, I let the Vanilla Dip dry and then stuck it in a round Ziploc container that fit perfectly.
In this end, this was a bad idea. For when I opened the container one week hence, in the tiny mountain village of Terskol, my once proud Vanilla Dip was an oozing mess of decomposing sugar. Not a pretty sight-quite traumatizing actually. My dear friend and mentor, Brenda, had named the Vanilla Dip, Velma. The original of the name Velma means "protector." Protection on a mountain, whether it comes from a lama blessed red cord or a multi-coloured sprinkle covered donut, always seems like a good idea to me. In her rapidly deteriorated condition, Velma wasn't going up any mountain. Her dream of the seven summits coming very prematurely to an end before it began really. I fed her to a stray dog.
Still traumatized from my first attempt at mountaineering with a donut, I hadn't yet gained the courage to try again. When I realized I was speaking to a conference of food service experts, a tiny seed of hope was planted in the fertile soil of my mind. As I prepped my presentation, I decided to show the picture of Velma's condition when we reached Terskol while making an impassioned plea for someone in the audience to share their expertise on how to prevent such a calamity from occurring again. At the close of the presentation, my cries for help were answered by Jeff Fryday of Tim Horton's. He explained that at TDL Headquarters they have a museum. In that museum were several well-preserved donuts. Jeff said he would see if the museum curators could prepare a Vanilla Dip for the rigors of international travel and high altitude mountaineering. Truthfully, I didn't expect to hear back from him any time soon so you could imagine my surprise when I received an email saying that my supercharged donut was ready to go.
I was leaving for Moscow the next day so first we explored the possibilities of getting Velma II to Moscow via courier. They could only promise delivery for the date we were leaving Moscow for Terskol. I then realized that I was traveling through Toronto and suggested a rendezvous there. Though it was the day before a holiday, Jeff made it happen and on Canada Day 2009, I met my carbohydrate companion for this year's climb. I walked up to the counter and said to the clerk, "I think you have a donut for me." I felt a little like I was a junior KGB agent."
She asked me for my name. When I replied, she showed me a card with my name on it, and then danced joyfully towards the back of the store to fetch Velma. With a big grin, she handed off a Tim's canister. I almost ordered a Vanilla Dip to go but didn't think Velma II would appreciate my cannibalism on our first date. Just beyond the crowds, I stopped and lovingly eased Velma II out of her container and took a few pictures to immortalize the moment. We then passed unceremoniously back through security and had fun exploring the Toronto airport. You can see pictures at http://bit.ly/gzQtf
Hindsight being what it is, I wouldn't have elected to watch the movie, "Taken" on the flight to Frankfurt. I know I am often tentative when I first arrive out of the bardo into a new location. My shyness, combined with past traumas, makes the first day or two higher on the anxiety scale until I get to know my way around and sort out how to get basic needs met. The high intensity thriller about two girls taken while on vacation in Paris provided images I didn't need floating around in my head. After Taken, I switched to more banal stuff watching home and personal makeover shows in the W channel.
Time in Frankfurt passed quickly despite no Internet. I was unwilling to pay $32 an hour for access and knew Moscow was just around the corner. Flying over miles of green fields, the plane began its final descent. Immigration was a breeze despite Velma not having a visa and I met up with my driver. We emerged from the airport and he pointed out a polished black Lamborghini with its bat wing doors. I always find my senses are tuned finely for reception when I a birthed from the airplane/airport bardo. Pushing my luggage cart through the throngs of people is akin to passing through the birth canal and I am barraged with the sights and sounds of my new life.
We whizzed down the highway from the airport. I looked to the right and was struck by the blazing white bark of stands of birch. The black crust atop the paper smooth bark leapt towards my eyes. The green canopy swung in beat to the pulsing grey clouds above. The grassy sides of the highway were adorned with weathered women selling flats of strawberries. Piles of bright red spheres interrupted the sea of green pocked by the gingham dresses of these industrious highway-based entrepreneurs. I was transported back to Zimbabwe where such sights were the norm whenever I drove from Harare to Mutare.
As we closed in on Moscow, highway lanes multiplied providing a wider warp for the driver to deftly weave his car across. No horns bleated as he executed delicate lane changes back and forth across the river of cars. I was glad when he stopped texting and placed his full attention on the road. I would hate to become another statistic. An hour or so later, he dropped me at the massive hotel complex that would be my home for the next three days. Just as I had expressed gratitude at the close of each of my three flights, I did the same for same delivery from the ride from the airport. I often think the most dangerous part of the climb is getting there.
In the haze of exhausted post bardo existence, I checked in, showered, and walked outside a bit to give my body some clue as to time of day to begin overcoming the jet lag. Procured some dinner, did some laundry, and soon there after dropped into a deep 11 hour sleep. Waking this morning, I sampled the hotel buffet breakfast, half mournful that I couldn't be more adventurous in my menu selections. In the time before the climb, I will follow travel-eating guidelines to a fault to try to avoid any gastrointestinal challenges that could derail my climb. I am aware, that different from sometimes, that I am here solely for the climb. Not that I won't enjoy poking about Moscow with Velma a bit this afternoon and tomorrow, but I am so eager to get back to Elbrus to see how things will unfold this time.
So I'll close for now, gather some courage and head out to explore. As a shy traveler, I use my keen sense of observation. Where some would just ask for direction, I watch and decipher. There is a bend in the Moscow River across from the hotel, I look forward to a walk along its banks, to enjoy the intense sensations of new existence before they fade, and to taking some fun Velma pictures.
Have a good day,
TA
*******************************************************************************
Please support Elbrus: Climbing for my Dad July 2009
To donate to the Canadian Prostate Cancer Network,
please click on the following link: http://www.cpcn.org/honour_form.asp
Click the "In Honour" button and please fill out "Elbrus: Climbing for my Dad." For the acknowledgment card, please use my address (I don't want to beam out my parent's address for all to see in cyberspace). I'll forward all the acknowledgments to my dad.
TA Loeffler
7 Wood Street
St. John's, NL
A1C 3K8
Thanks in advance of your support of this worthy cause.
TA Loeffler Ph.D., Professor
3M National Teaching Fellow
School of Human Kinetics and Recreation
Memorial University of Newfoundland
St. John's, NL A1C 5S7
www.taloeffler.com
Phone: 709-737-8670
Fax: 709-737-3979
Office: PE 2011A
Email Office: taloeffler@mun.ca
Email Home: taloeffler@gmail.com
Those who lose dreaming are lost.
Australian Aboriginal Proverb
Courage is the price that life exacts for granting peace. The soul that knows it not, knows no release from little things; Knows not the livid loneliness of fear, nor mountain heights where bitter joy can hear the sound of wings.
Amelia Earhart
Remember that the most difficult tasks are consummated not by a single burst of energy or effort, but by consistent application of the best you have within you.
Og Mandino
*******************************************************************************
The bardo, in Tibetan, is the place between death and birth; a transition zone between the last existence and the next. For me, in this life, the airplane is the nearest experience to the bardo I can imagine. In the days leading up to a big climb, days are filling with the endless task of ticking items a perpetual to do list. It's as if every task that has been postponed over the past six months screams for closure before the artificial deadline of Air Canada Flight 693 to Toronto.
Sent off with plenty of hugs and good wishes, I clamber down the jet way into the never never land of the winged aluminum sausage that will magically, (in my humble opinion), transport me from here to there. I settle gingerly down into my seat for my back is still tender accepting that this is "my home" for the next twenty-four hours or so. Airplane time is the purest form of leisure for me. I read. I watch. I daydream. And if I surrender to the bardo, I often find that I arrive "too soon."
As I don't have a TV, the seat back entertainment centres invoke the joy of Easter morning. Brightly coloured, multi-media treats are hidden behind layered menus waiting to be found with the poke of a finger. I plug into a world of drama, escape, and edutainment and we land in Toronto before I know it. The moment has arrived. I scamper towards the baggage claim, for just beyond its gates, lies a Tim Horton's outlet. It is here I am to meet Velma II.
Those who have been along on this amazing journey of mine for some time may remember back to the summer of 2006 where a newly minted passion for mountaineering and an uncommon fondness for Tim Horton's Vanilla Dips first met. I'd hoped to take a Vanilla Dip to the summit of Mount Elbrus. I tried several methods of getting the donut ready for the rigorous journey. I dried the first one out. Then shellacked it. Bad idea. The shellac caused all the sprinkles to lose their colour and become amorous balls of white sugar. For the second attempt, I let the Vanilla Dip dry and then stuck it in a round Ziploc container that fit perfectly.
In this end, this was a bad idea. For when I opened the container one week hence, in the tiny mountain village of Terskol, my once proud Vanilla Dip was an oozing mess of decomposing sugar. Not a pretty sight-quite traumatizing actually. My dear friend and mentor, Brenda, had named the Vanilla Dip, Velma. The original of the name Velma means "protector." Protection on a mountain, whether it comes from a lama blessed red cord or a multi-coloured sprinkle covered donut, always seems like a good idea to me. In her rapidly deteriorated condition, Velma wasn't going up any mountain. Her dream of the seven summits coming very prematurely to an end before it began really. I fed her to a stray dog.
Still traumatized from my first attempt at mountaineering with a donut, I hadn't yet gained the courage to try again. When I realized I was speaking to a conference of food service experts, a tiny seed of hope was planted in the fertile soil of my mind. As I prepped my presentation, I decided to show the picture of Velma's condition when we reached Terskol while making an impassioned plea for someone in the audience to share their expertise on how to prevent such a calamity from occurring again. At the close of the presentation, my cries for help were answered by Jeff Fryday of Tim Horton's. He explained that at TDL Headquarters they have a museum. In that museum were several well-preserved donuts. Jeff said he would see if the museum curators could prepare a Vanilla Dip for the rigors of international travel and high altitude mountaineering. Truthfully, I didn't expect to hear back from him any time soon so you could imagine my surprise when I received an email saying that my supercharged donut was ready to go.
I was leaving for Moscow the next day so first we explored the possibilities of getting Velma II to Moscow via courier. They could only promise delivery for the date we were leaving Moscow for Terskol. I then realized that I was traveling through Toronto and suggested a rendezvous there. Though it was the day before a holiday, Jeff made it happen and on Canada Day 2009, I met my carbohydrate companion for this year's climb. I walked up to the counter and said to the clerk, "I think you have a donut for me." I felt a little like I was a junior KGB agent."
She asked me for my name. When I replied, she showed me a card with my name on it, and then danced joyfully towards the back of the store to fetch Velma. With a big grin, she handed off a Tim's canister. I almost ordered a Vanilla Dip to go but didn't think Velma II would appreciate my cannibalism on our first date. Just beyond the crowds, I stopped and lovingly eased Velma II out of her container and took a few pictures to immortalize the moment. We then passed unceremoniously back through security and had fun exploring the Toronto airport. You can see pictures at http://bit.ly/gzQtf
Hindsight being what it is, I wouldn't have elected to watch the movie, "Taken" on the flight to Frankfurt. I know I am often tentative when I first arrive out of the bardo into a new location. My shyness, combined with past traumas, makes the first day or two higher on the anxiety scale until I get to know my way around and sort out how to get basic needs met. The high intensity thriller about two girls taken while on vacation in Paris provided images I didn't need floating around in my head. After Taken, I switched to more banal stuff watching home and personal makeover shows in the W channel.
Time in Frankfurt passed quickly despite no Internet. I was unwilling to pay $32 an hour for access and knew Moscow was just around the corner. Flying over miles of green fields, the plane began its final descent. Immigration was a breeze despite Velma not having a visa and I met up with my driver. We emerged from the airport and he pointed out a polished black Lamborghini with its bat wing doors. I always find my senses are tuned finely for reception when I a birthed from the airplane/airport bardo. Pushing my luggage cart through the throngs of people is akin to passing through the birth canal and I am barraged with the sights and sounds of my new life.
We whizzed down the highway from the airport. I looked to the right and was struck by the blazing white bark of stands of birch. The black crust atop the paper smooth bark leapt towards my eyes. The green canopy swung in beat to the pulsing grey clouds above. The grassy sides of the highway were adorned with weathered women selling flats of strawberries. Piles of bright red spheres interrupted the sea of green pocked by the gingham dresses of these industrious highway-based entrepreneurs. I was transported back to Zimbabwe where such sights were the norm whenever I drove from Harare to Mutare.
As we closed in on Moscow, highway lanes multiplied providing a wider warp for the driver to deftly weave his car across. No horns bleated as he executed delicate lane changes back and forth across the river of cars. I was glad when he stopped texting and placed his full attention on the road. I would hate to become another statistic. An hour or so later, he dropped me at the massive hotel complex that would be my home for the next three days. Just as I had expressed gratitude at the close of each of my three flights, I did the same for same delivery from the ride from the airport. I often think the most dangerous part of the climb is getting there.
In the haze of exhausted post bardo existence, I checked in, showered, and walked outside a bit to give my body some clue as to time of day to begin overcoming the jet lag. Procured some dinner, did some laundry, and soon there after dropped into a deep 11 hour sleep. Waking this morning, I sampled the hotel buffet breakfast, half mournful that I couldn't be more adventurous in my menu selections. In the time before the climb, I will follow travel-eating guidelines to a fault to try to avoid any gastrointestinal challenges that could derail my climb. I am aware, that different from sometimes, that I am here solely for the climb. Not that I won't enjoy poking about Moscow with Velma a bit this afternoon and tomorrow, but I am so eager to get back to Elbrus to see how things will unfold this time.
So I'll close for now, gather some courage and head out to explore. As a shy traveler, I use my keen sense of observation. Where some would just ask for direction, I watch and decipher. There is a bend in the Moscow River across from the hotel, I look forward to a walk along its banks, to enjoy the intense sensations of new existence before they fade, and to taking some fun Velma pictures.
Have a good day,
TA
*******************************************************************************
Please support Elbrus: Climbing for my Dad July 2009
To donate to the Canadian Prostate Cancer Network,
please click on the following link: http://www.cpcn.org/honour_form.asp
Click the "In Honour" button and please fill out "Elbrus: Climbing for my Dad." For the acknowledgment card, please use my address (I don't want to beam out my parent's address for all to see in cyberspace). I'll forward all the acknowledgments to my dad.
TA Loeffler
7 Wood Street
St. John's, NL
A1C 3K8
Thanks in advance of your support of this worthy cause.
TA Loeffler Ph.D., Professor
3M National Teaching Fellow
School of Human Kinetics and Recreation
Memorial University of Newfoundland
St. John's, NL A1C 5S7
www.taloeffler.com
Phone: 709-737-8670
Fax: 709-737-3979
Office: PE 2011A
Email Office: taloeffler@mun.ca
Email Home: taloeffler@gmail.com
Those who lose dreaming are lost.
Australian Aboriginal Proverb
Courage is the price that life exacts for granting peace. The soul that knows it not, knows no release from little things; Knows not the livid loneliness of fear, nor mountain heights where bitter joy can hear the sound of wings.
Amelia Earhart
Remember that the most difficult tasks are consummated not by a single burst of energy or effort, but by consistent application of the best you have within you.
Og Mandino
*******************************************************************************
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