The family says my recent blog posts have been “dark”, and they have a point. Those of you expecting updates on mountaineering, ski racing, and sailing have been hearing about aging, injuries, the death of our dog, and the loss of my mother. This is partly because the pandemic has gotten in the way of much of the fun stuff. It is also because I am using this blog as a personal diary; recording both the substance of my gap year as well as what is going on in my head as I experience it.
The year has certainly taken on a different shape. Courtesy of the pandemic, it has been extended to a “gap year and a half”, and most of my plans are in limbo. Meanwhile, a combination of political and social forces disrupt our daily lives. Darkness is definitely in the mix. However, as has been the case my entire life, occasional darkness brings accompanying light into sharper relief. Like the dramatic frontal systems we sometimes encounter on our sailboat: where dark clouds low on the water make the rays of sun above more beautiful and cherished.
A few weeks ago, Jill and I headed off for several days of sailing. We timed it perfectly, with the forecast promising a string of those September days where the light on the bay is scream-out-loud clear and the mornings and evenings have a magical hue. Except that this time they didn’t. Smoke from wildfires on the west coast had blown across the country, darkening the skies and making it feel like we were in the middle of a solar eclipse. Here is a photo taken early one morning from our anchorage; the sun fighting to break through the haze. It was eerie.
Eerie, yes, but nothing compared to the darkness and haze drifting across our nation more broadly.
As a rule, I refrain from sharing political views on social media, and I intend the same for this blog. But I feel the need to record how I am feeling, as the political landscape is effecting me profoundly. I do this not with the goal of imposing my views on anyone, but just to record them for my own benefit.
I don’t like living in a pandemic, but I can deal with it. I don’t like having a long-planned year of mountain climbing, ski racing, and long distance sailing blown up, but I can deal with that as well. What is increasingly challenging is reconciling myself to the current political reality. It depresses me deeply that our President is a man who, in the words of a friend, “is everything I raised my children not to be”. It depresses me deeply that our country is polarized into two parallel universes, each fed by media eco-systems promoting dramatically different versions of reality. It depresses me deeply that the long term environmental health of our planet is being sacrificed to short term economic gain. It depresses me deeply that the rule of law which feeds our country’s strength is under attack. And it depresses me deeply that the concept of objective truth has been so quickly weakened. My head is spinning, and I feel un-anchored.
I used to look at political media junkies, wed to television and social media’s endless stream of “breaking news”, and be glad I wasn’t one of them. I delighted in heading into the mountains, returning weeks later, and confirming how little of the daily media circus mattered. But now I am deeply enmeshed in it. I check the “News” app on my iPhone multiple times a day. The trajectory of the election looms large in my thoughts. It’s outcome, including the period through to Inauguration Day, worries me greatly. When I look back on my “gap year and a half”, the political and societal challenges we are now enduring will be a dominant aspect of it. At least it feels that way.
One way my gap year had been impacting my family was causing worry about my safety while climbing high mountains. Now, a new impact has emerged: they have to endure my political “rants”. After one recent monologue, which involved a semi-serious interest in exploring Canadien citizenship, I calmed down and reflected on how difficult this must be for our adult children. Easy for me to bemoan how far our country has fallen, but they are the ones who need to build their futures in it. While it frustrates me to see our country crack and decay, it must be really frightening to those who are earlier in their life journey.
Recently, I returned from a sail and sat on the porch with a glass of wine and bowl of goldfish crackers. It was one of those October days you live for, gin clear with no smoke anywhere. The light was exquisite as the sun dropped toward the ocean.
Sitting there, I resolved to write a letter to John, Holly, and Will. I need to tell them that, when I rant about darkness in our country, much of that is born out of me processing my own insecurities. At my core, I believe deeply in the fundamental decency of our fellow Americans, that there is more uniting us than dividing us, and that our country will successfully navigate its current challenges as it has done so often in the past. The values and strengths embodied in John, Holly, and Will’s generation will help our country find its bearings and become an even better place for all to live. Of this I am sure.
I may have just written the letter.
There is that moment in the musical Hamilton, after Philip dies and the “Hamiltons move uptown”, that Jefferson and Madison plead: “can we get back to politics?” For those of you wondering “can we get back to mountain climbing?”, the answer is yes. This blog is done with politics. Thanks for listening.
After closing Everest this past spring, Nepal is struggling with a Covid surge. The country and its mountains remained closed this fall, although there are efforts underway to partially re-open at the end of October. I am still hoping to be on the mountain this coming spring. My gut says it is 50-50. Meanwhile, the 2021 World Masters Cross Country Ski Championships in British Columbia just got postponed to 2022, and other ski marathons are cancelling. I will need to find other races.
I continue to train hard, and the journey remains at least as meaningful as the destination.
Again, thanks for following along.