Like everyone, my life in the coming weeks is going to be very different from what I was picturing. The new reality snapped in abruptly last week.
I was up on Pegan Hill behind our house, doing my least favorite but most helpful Everest workout – repeated speed hiking intervals with a 60 pound pack. It is beautiful up there, with open fields and views out to Mount Wachusett and Monadnock. As I crested the hill on each interval, I thought about how happy I was with my situation: leaving the next day for a family backcountry ski trip in the Canadian Rockies, then off to Nepal at the end of the month. After a year and a half of hard training, my body was right where I wanted it to be; strong and ready to roll. A great feeling.
I headed down to our house. Before hopping into the shower, I checked email. There was one from the Everest climb organizers: “The Nepal Government just closed the 2020 climbing season. All Everest permits are cancelled.” This is the moment it all started changing for me.
A gut punch. While mindful that many are being impacted far more substantially, this really hurt. Fifty years of dreaming, a year and a half of training, and weeks of effort arranging to be away from home. Poof! I spent the afternoon mentally regrouping. I had a week in British Columbia to look forward to: high in a remote mountain lodge with Jill, John, and Will, surrounded by alpine beauty, far from the headlines and relentless cable tv coverage. It was unfortunate that Holly couldn’t come due to work, but was going to be cherished family time nonetheless.
When Jill later that afternoon said that she couldn’t bring herself to get on a plane, I was saddened but understood fully. The boys and I got on the phone and discussed what to do. We weighed how it would feel to go without Jill, the potential of being unwitting virus transmitters, and the practical risk of getting stuck in Canada. In the end, we decided to go for it. Our flights and lodging were already paid for, and we had a great trip ahead of us at a place I have long wanted to visit: Assiniboine Lodge.
The next morning, Jill dropped Will and me at Logan airport. The flight to Toronto went smoothly. The plane was less than a quarter full, and we dutifully wiped down our seat belts and tray tables with the disinfectant wipes Jill had given us. The Toronto airport was deserted. As we were boarding our connecting flight to Calgary, another email I won’t forget appeared on my phone: “Assiniboine Lodge is cancelling the remainder of the winter 2020 season”.
Oh man. Now what? Hard to get off the plane. Bags already headed to Calgary. Low appetite for spending the night in Toronto airport. We texted John, who was planning to fly up from San Francisco the next day, and he cancelled his flights. Our plane taxied down the runway and took off. On the four hour flight to Calgary, I deferred figuring out what to do about our aborted family ski trip and instead pondered what to do with my blown up gap year.
Will and I landed in Calgary, drove through a snowstorm to Canmore, checked into our hotel around midnight, and collapsed into bed. The next morning, over strong cups of coffee, we went to work on “Plan B”. It is amazing how quickly the mind re-sets around new realities. We are all now experiencing this on a daily basis
We decided to stay in Canmore as long as possible, do day trips, and keep an eye on the travel situation to make sure we didn’t get stuck in Canada. We ended up getting in three great ski days. On the first, we cross country skied at Canmore Nordic Center; site of the 1988 Olympic races and – coincidentally – site of the upcoming 2021 World Masters Championships. It is a really amazing place.
Day two, we drove an hour and half north into Banff National Park, past Lake Louise, and ascended a mountain called “Observation Sub Peak”. We were guided by Pat Delaney, who is immensely competent, a pleasure to spend time with, and knows the backcountry terrain intimately.
I was blown away by the vastness and beauty. Here is a photo of me just below the summit.
On day three, we headed into the Crowfoot Glacier drainage. Here is a photo of Will crossing frozen Bow Lake, looking up at our destination.
And here is a photo taken up in the bowl. Those are our tracks on the right, and that is Will on the left headed up for more turns.
This was one of the best days of skiing I have experienced in my life. It was also surreal. We were high up in pristine mountain beauty, miles from any virus, doing what we love to do, feeling vibrantly alive. Meanwhile down below, ski areas and restaurants were closing, Covid counts were rising, flights to the U.S. were cancelling, and Canada was moving to close the border. Pat mentioned that his employer was revoking all salaries. He was trying to figure out how to survive on zero income going forward.
We skied down to the car, drove back to Canmore, and were fortunate to get out on a flight the next morning. We got home last night.
What is the new course, Captain?
I have spent a lot of time over the past few days trying to figure out the best way forward. Like all of us, I am focused foremost on the physical and financial health of my family, and on how our country and world navigate this crisis. Less importantly, I also need to resolve what this means for the gap year I spent so long planning. Everest was to some extent the cornerstone, but climbing Aconcagua, cross country ski racing, and – still ahead- long distance sailing were also major elements. The organizing principle was to do things I have long dreamed of, that can only be done with substantial amounts of discretionary time. Everest is now closed to climbing, and the coming months are uncertain on many dimensions.
My current thinking is to take another shot at Everest. Dreams die hard. Much of the financial investment, (e.g. expedition costs, gear, flights), can be rolled forward to 2021. If I decide to do that, I will need to spend the next 12 months continuing to train intensively- something incompatible with long distance sailing. I will also need to figure out how to extend my gap year, which has been made possible by nonprofit boards and other organizations graciously accommodating my time off. I need to consult with my family, who have patiently supported my self-centered adventuring and dealt with the shadow of mountaineering risk.
While it remains to be finalized, I see a re-set emerging; a “gap year and a half”. Target Everest in Spring 2021. Save the long distance sailing for later, (maybe my seventies?). Ski more cross country races next season, perhaps with the World Masters Championships in early March as an end goal. Train hard between now and then, building on the base I have established. The more I think about it, the more I like it. Goals are powerful things, and – particularly in times like these- having an organizing construct for one’s life pays multiple dividends. I’ll sort it all out in the coming days.
This morning I received a text message from our guide Pat: “Things are getting a little out of hand around Canmore and I’ve decided to pack the camper van and head north until things settle down. Thank you both for sharing what turns out to be the very last days of my guiding season. I love what I do and it is devastating to have it all end so suddenly.”
I hope each of you reading this, together with your loved ones, stay well and are ok with your own course corrections. We will all get through this together. In times of adversity, it is encouraging to see the best of humanity rise to the fore.
