Conversation with a Campground Host: Redefining Disability

Riding/Climbing/Hiking Icicle Canyon in Leavenworth, WA

The morning sun slowly warmed away the chilly summer night air of Icicle Canyon, beckoning me to come out of my little one-person tent.  Upon seeing me stumble out, the campground host, a old man with a peppered beard, hobbled to my site with the obvious intent to collect my dues. I pulled out my National Park Access Pass, a disability card, and handed it over. He looked at me sternly and asked "What's this?"

"An Access Pass."
"No, where did you get it?" His suspicion heightening.
"Sir, I am Deaf."

Eyes popped wide, he took back a step.
"Wh-... I.... Uh.... But... How do you ride that thing?" He stammered, pointing at my purple motorcycle.

While handing over my campsite dues, I explained I ride just as safely, if not safer, by relying on my other senses. I feel the vibrations, I sense when the bike needs to shift gears, and I'm constantly visually aware of my surroundings. Besides, who can really hear over the rumble and roar of a motorcycle anyway?

Dumbfounded at my Deafness, the old man confessed he was puzzled as why he couldn't wake me up by shouting through my tent walls and told me he had planned to come back later with the police.

"So, what are you doing out here? Hiking?"
I replied that I planned to hike today and rock climb tomorrow.

"Climbing?! You... Uh...!!! That's too dangerous for you if you can't hear!"

"Nope! I've been doing it for a while and have worked out effective communication."

"Don't you have a boyfriend?"

"Nope"

After a short awkward pause, the old man's eyes skirted the ground. Stammering as he walked away like a dog with his head down and tail between his legs, "well, you're.. Uh... Too... Uh..... Um... Uh.... Pretty not to have one"

Pffft...

Since when do I need to have hearing and a man to be awesome?? 

I have a disability. Go ahead, slap that label on me.  I shamelessly admit it. However, I don't let it stop me. It took a lifetime of learning and positive reinforcement from family and friends to let my disability strengthen me, not weaken me. 

There was a time in my life when I was too shy to admit I was Deaf. I remember sheepishly telling my teachers I couldn't hear well and then slink quickly back to my desk as the school environment mumbled around me. I was too scared to try and do things I really wanted to do, such as try out for the school play. 

Things have changed. Drastically. 

Being immersed with Deaf pride at Gallaudet University  has empowered me to be ME.  

I've figured out what my personal communication needs are and have learned not be afraid to communicate that to others, whether it be at work, on the mountain, or simply running errands around town. But most importantly, I've stopped believing that having a disability is my limit. 

If others choose to believe that then just go ahead...Climb your mountain and prove them wrong. 

How to approach a (Deaf) employee

As a deaf employee at the Seattle REI store, I find that difficult communication patterns can emerge during my interactions with customers. On the sales floor, even the most well-intentioned people approach me in ways that make it impossible for me to decipher their needs due to heavy reliance on auditory signals, which I miss out on. These approaches include walking past me while talking, talking to the product instead of me, talking to my back or mumbling while thinking about a product in their hand.

Deaf or hearing, we are all people with communication needs. The Deaf culture cherishes visual communication, including the use of eye contact and American Sign Language (ASL). Although deaf employees do have an additional need for visual communication, I'm sure hearing people can appreciate the etiquette taken for granted in our Deaf world! 

The following tips will help improve your shopping experience with both deaf and hard of hearing employees. With these small considerations, exchanges will be easier for both of us.

1. Establish and maintain eye contact.
2. Tap our shoulder if you need additional effort to establish eye contact. Waving your hand considerately is also considered a fine way to get our attention.
3. If possible, think about your question before asking, and try to enunciate. If you are communicating with a person who reads lips or has some hearing, this will really help.
4. If communicating through an ASL interpreter, speak to the employee helping you, not to the interpreter.
5. Never shout at a person who is deaf or hard of hearing. It won’t help.

Deaf people communicate in a variety of ways with hearing people, including writing, speech, gestures and sign language. We've spent a lifetime figuring out what works best for us as individuals. Just go with it! Oftentimes, I hand customers paper and pen to request written information—such as a membership number—to complete a transaction.

At REI, we strive to give you great customer service. Sometimes, communication frustrations may make it difficult to ensure you have the best experience possible. These difficulties can be relieved on the sales floor simply by following the above 5 tips!

By bridging that gap faster, it'll make us both feel less awkward and more confident in our exchange.

Personally, learning American Sign Language has opened up a new world of communication. I have learned to love and embrace my deafness and Deaf culture. I love it when a customer knows the “thank you” sign! If you’d like to know, here’s simple thank you sign instruction that shows you how.

Just a little bit of effort and consideration goes a long way in making your shopping experience better. Thanks for listening, and happy shopping! 

Photos by Jason Tang of atomic80photography.com.

Overcoming a Fear of Heights

Climber (and good friend) being lowered at Great Falls, VA

The boy, already scared of heights, was even more scared of being lowered. He didn’t let on how terrified of being lowered until he was already at the top of the 30 foot top-rope climb. Lowering proved to be too daunting so my guiding partner, Jason Montecalvo, assured him everything was going to be alright and ran to the top so the boy could be anchored in and safely walk down.  Jason made the safest choice for everyone involved.

The boy decided he was done climbing for the day and sulked in the shadows of a nearby tree, hiding his anger at himself from the sun.  But, he couldn’t hide it from me.

I sat down on the low lying tree branch with him while we watched the other kids climb. At first, we did not talk. The silence faltered as we began to talk of things of utmost importance: of leaves falling to the ground, of lizards losing their tail in order to save themselves from being eaten, of candy wrappers struggling to stay in the lunchbox exposed to the afternoon breeze, of him being angry with himself and his form of releasing that anger by hitting his (helmeted) head with his hands, and of the spider webs on the nearby rocks.

Why was he angry? Because he perceived himself as a failure. I knew he wasn’t. He didn’t know that. But, I wanted him to know what I knew.

So we brainstormed together ways to overcome his terror. I too, am scared sometimes. Even “rockstar” climbers have hidden tales of exposure on the high cliffs. I uprooted my most embarrassing moments out of the shadows for him to see.  He didn’t like some of our initial ideas so we kept brainstorming until we found a solution that satisfied us both.

He would climb five to eight feet. I would counter-ascend climb to him. He would clip his harness to mine using my P.A.S (Personal Anchor System, aka, a sling or cordellette girth hitched to my harness). I wanted him to physically do the clip-in so he become involved and empowered in the process. Of course, I would check the clip-in for safety. We would then tandem-lower together, with him in front, feeling the rock with his feet and following the guidance of my coaching as we walked backwards towards the ground.   

That would be enough to satisfy me, knowing that he tried.

But it wasn’t enough for him. As soon as we both reached the ground, excitement quivered in his voice as he declare he can lower from that same point (eight feet up) all by himself.  And he did!

Again. And again. And again. Each time, he would go just a few inches higher. We were there for a while. Time didn’t mean anything to me anymore. After finally adding a full two feet to his climbing height, he asked “Do you think I should go higher?”

Sweat ran down my back as the sun wearily beat upon my belay stance.

“Yes! You should!”

I warned him that beyond 10 feet I would have difficulty hearing him, pointing to my pink hearing aids. How can we resolve this?  I already had solutions in mind, but I wanted him to be in control of his thoughts and decisions, thus further empowering him on the climb.

“No problem! We’ll use this hand sign when I want you to “take” [Take up slack]. And we’ll use this hand sign when I’m ready to be lowered!!”.

Once again, he climbed the familiar crack, reaching for familiar hand-holds. Soon, he was on unfamiliar rock. Hesitation wavered throughout his body. Inch by inch, he crawled up the rock face. My eyes were peeled for his hand signs, not daring to miss a sign and shake his confidence in any possible way. Soon his hands told me to “take” and “lower”, which I started to do. “ST-O-O-O-P!” I looked up to see him climbing higher!

And higher! And higher!! He reached the top!

His hands once again told me when he was ready to be lowered. With full confidence, he braced his body into a proper lowering position and without any hesitation, descended to the ground.  I burst with pride for him and exclaimed, “That was awesome!!!”

His response? “Yeah... the hardest part about this whole thing is that now I have to go home and take a bath!!”

Sorry kiddo… Life is tough. :-)

Vertical Pillow

Self Portrait: Arches National Park, Utah

Vertical Pillow

Oftentimes I am asked, why do I rock climb? Why do I love the outdoors so much? To understand, one must know my childhood pillow.

My entire life I’ve never fit in. I can’t argue with it. It’s the story of my life. I was born deaf so arguably one could say I didn’t fit in a hearing school, hearing social events, or even a hearing family. Against the odds,  we made it work. It wasn’t easy. There were many moments of laughter of overcoming the trials. But it wasn’t all joy. I dreaded school. I dreaded classrooms where we had to listen to the teacher and other students, raise our hands (or just blurt out) for comments on previous comments that were orally expressed. Everything seemed lost in the sea of sound I was slowly drowning in. I felt a gasp of fresh air during the classes where we spent time reading or copying notes from a PowerPoint or chalkboard. My hands were occupied instead of the constant frustration welling the invisible tears inside me, that only my pillow would know.

After a long hard day in school, the internal agony would not stop. I had to endure hours of ballet practice at my church. I could hear the music but I could not understand the chattering and laughter of my fellow ballerinas. The teacher’s instructions would be lost on me. The teacher would have to waste long moments working with me individually, in front of the entire class, further driving my embarrassment. My body didn’t match the prescribed movements or chime in sync with a rhythm in a music I could not understand, a frustration to be released as tears on my pillow.

School and church were the two circles of life. Ballet was in the church. And so were all of my jobs and my parents jobs. Church is supposed to be a place of refreshment and renewal. For me, it was a constant source of irritation. No matter how hard I tried to explain, no one seemed to understand that I only heard sounds, not comprehension of words. I’ve spent hours upon hours fighting the urge to nod off, drowning again in a sea of sound roaring around me in Sunday School or during the services or in the hallways. When later I failed to summarize the sermon or Sunday School message, I was chided. I was accused of drifting away spiritually and being rebellious against God.

This only led to real anger and perceived rebellion. I yearned for someone to just take my hand and say, “It’s ok. I love you. I understand’. Instead, I was labelled. Immature they called me.

I worked hard in school to suppress the tears raining inside of me, to prove everything wrong. Homework was my outlet, my escape. I attacked it with furious passion, oftentimes creating more work for myself than really necessary.

So why do I rock and ice climb and pursue alpine adventures? Why do I love the outdoors so much? My love traces back to the dampness of my childhood pillow. The trees, flowers, and animals do not need to express themselves orally. The rock and ice allows me to create my own movements to my own tune. The trail provides a peaceful sanctuary.  

I become me. No labels. No false accusations I do not have the courage to fight.

And at night my pillow is dry :-)

P.S.
This was written about 2 years ago. Since then, I have been blessed to be a part of three amazing communities: The Deaf community, the climbing community, and the Church community where I have found a loving group of Deaf and hearing people to share the joys and trials of life! Thank you! I love you all! 

From F*** You to Love You

Everyday I am surrounded by sound. People chattering about important things or jokes.
I’m not sure.
People asking questions or making random comments.
I’m still not sure.

I see lips move and hear sounds, but too often the sounds are too fast for my brain to form into possible words. My brain spins. I reach for water to soothe the swelling headache from being in over-drive mode all day long.  I want to understand.

“You speak so well”
Yes, I know.
But in a crowd, speaking is all I can do. I piece together words and hope I’m following along.

I just want to know what they are saying. I don’t care if it was important or not. Please tell me! I feel so alone in the middle of a chittering crowd.

I see someone standing alone. I want to get to know her and introduce myself. Hi! I’m Christina!
Her mouth opens, lips moving. The sound absorbs into the atmosphere.

Someone approaches me. Lips moving slowly, voice loud and clear. Finally.
“How do you say ‘F---’ in sign language?”

Is that all I am? All my language means to you? I don’t  understand.

Someone else approaches me. In addition to moving lips, I see moving hands.
“I want to listen. Talk to me. I love you.”

I love you too. Thank you.

I understand.

(Photos found from Google Image Search)

Climbing with Hearing Loss

Wearing my Ear Gear hearing aid protection at  Great Falls, VA

Climbing with hearing loss should not be a deterrent or a safety hazard. These tips are not only for those with hearing loss. Often times, hearing people find themselves in hard-to-hear situations in the mountains.

The most important consideration in regards to communication is to keep things simple and maintain eye contact. Establish visual contact whenever possible and avoid situations (if possible) where visual contact is limited.  The tips in this guide are designed to minimize frustrations, which are a safety hazard.

“As long as team members communicate climbing strategies in depth beforehand, use signs when in eyesight, or another method (such as radios or rope tugging) when out of eye and ear site, they do well together. The key is knowing our partners and being receptive to each other, whatever the method.”  -Erin McLaughlin, deaf climber

Tips, Techniques, and Tricks:

1) Communicate with ALL of the trip members PRIOR to the trip the degree of your hearing loss and what to expect in terms of your hearing range in various types of situations.

2) For alpine situations with hearing aids:  Wear your old hearing aids on the mountain. Wrap your good ones in a Smartwool beanie (or something similar) for warmth and store them inside a dry bag if you must bring them up with you on summit day. If you don’t have spare hearing aids, consider taking your hearing aids out at tree line if you don’t luck out with “good” weather so you will have functioning hearing aids when you descend. You should already have pre-determined hand/body signals for communication before hand.

3) Determine communication plans with your team before you start in the event the hearing aids freeze, battery dies,  or if you can’t hear. Hand signals, body signals,  whatever works for you and your team. I rely on American Sign Language

4) Body language is  useful and very effective (i.e. nodding one's head up and down to indicate all was good or understood, thumbs up, thumbs down, pointing at me, pointing at someone and other basic infantry signals)

5) Use your visual sense to compensate for your hearing loss by being extra diligent of your environment. Know the route, alternatives and potential obstacles. Mind your surroundings, individually and collectively. Study a map and know how to use it.

6) Communicate with your team BEFORE the trip to be diligent on eye contact with you!

7) Make sure you know what's happening with the route before starting. Get the complicated instructions out of the way while you are in a safe environment where you can communicate well.

8) When roping up with new rope teams, be in the middle to get a general sense of communication dynamics.

9) If hearing a little bit is an option, one-worded verbal communication is the most effective regardless whether it was between yourself and a person  or one of the others in the groups communicating a climbing command to another person.

One word communication is easier to understand on radios, if using them.

10) It’s fair, polite, and safe for you to be included in all communications, whether it be one word commands or visual commands, between either yourself and a team member or other communications not involving you. Insist on this BEFORE the trip to prevent frustrations. Remember, frustration is a safety hazard.


11) Ask that your group be specific and clear with whom you/they are communicating with.  Request that team members say or sign  your name first to be sure he/she is talking to you and not anyone else. This is especially important if you are busy with a task at hand.

12) Pick rope team members who are patient and understanding!

13) Not to be relied on due to erratic cell coverage, but sometimes when rock climbing it is possible to use text messaging belay commands. (Not recommended, but this has been done before in the Gunks).

14) If you wear hearing aids, be mindful of alpine critters that may be attracted to the scent of ear wax on on hearing aid ear molds. My hearing aids have been stolen by a curious chipmunk.  

15) If you do wear behind-the-ear hearing aids, consider buying protective Ear Gear. http://www.gearforears.com/

Simple hand signals for belay commands

Jason and I came up with simple signs for certain terms (such as take or slack) that can be seen from a distance by the belayer while the climber only has to use one hand.  The “take” sign resembles that of pulling down your fist (as truck drivers usually do when they sound their horns).  We initially had a sign for “slack” which resembled jazz hands (five fingers out and shaking the hand) from the climber's hip area, but eventually ended up using a different sign which is pointing the finger down and moving it in a circling motion (as in circling the rope- "give me slack").  - Erin McLaughlin, deaf climber

               

When the leader is on much higher ground in an alpine situation:

“The times when verbal communication was least reliable were situations when whomever was leading was on much higher ground. Wind and continuous falling snow obviously made things a little more challenging. Paul (a guide in the White Mountains) stressed his general preference (through his experience) to advance up the slope and place the next anchor strategically where he would still be able to have visual contact with the rest of the climbing team.”   -Christopher Cabacar, hard of hearing climber

Climbing Multi-Pitch Rock using Rope Tug Commands (no digital communication devices)

This is how one team does it in a situation where the leader cannot hear or see the second: -Jason Zodda

“Naturally, before we tie in, I talk to my second and discuss where the next anchor is, talk about places where the rope may snag, where to use extra long runners, if we will simulclimb, and etc. After that, the first thing I do is tie in on one end of the rope and have my second tie in at the other end of the rope (we are now attached end-to-end). After we check each other, I climb to the anchor. I then make an anchor and secure myself to the anchor (I am off belay at this point but do not need to tell my partner--he/she is still keeping me on belay). If my partner can hear me, then she/he can take me off belay, but this is not necessary, there is nothing wrong with my partner keeping me on belay. Next, I pull up all the slack. When I run out of slack, I put my second on belay. Only then do I do the rope tugs: 3 or 4 hard tugs (I used to always do three for "on" Be" "Lay", but now add an extra one just in case the follower didn't feel the first one). When my second feels the tugs, then he/she knows that he/she is on belay and can start climbing. I continually take up slack as the second climbs until he/she reaches the anchor. In this system, there is only one communication, from the leader to the follower and it simply informs the follower that he/she is on belay. The second never has to tug the rope (although I know some systems do incorporate such a communication). The tugs only happen after the leader 1) makes an anchor and secures himself to it; 2) pulls up all the slack; and 3) puts the second on belay.

Now there are some dangers to the rope communication method. The most common is if the rope gets stuck. If that happens, then I am tugging on the rope, but the second will not feel it. The best way to avoid this is to make sure you lead well and don't just clip in and place gear willy nilly, ensure that you are leading smoothly and placing the rope away from rope-eating rock. Another problem is pulling the rope could dislodge a rock, possibly injuring your second. Again, the best way to avoid this is good rope management as you lead (easier said than done, I know).”