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. 

Gear!! Saving the world?

Riding through a Seattle Neighborhood

Being a gear tester for the Novara brand involves riding my bicycle through chilly Pacific Northwest rainfall. The glamour of knowing, or hoping, my critical analysis and feedback of the prototype over-mitt product will be the underlying cause of a cyclist commuter's day being slightly better off that it would have been makes it worth it... even though it was just that. Glamour. Glamour without additional pay.

But that's ok. Perhaps a cyclist will be further motivated to ride to work instead of driving due the improved design of overmitts, thus reducing greenhouse emissions... and that my dear friends, is how I save the world :-)

At my REI night job, I am constantly surrounded by gear. New gear. More gear. Boxes and boxes of stock gushing in to the consumer's insatiable appetite for more. More technology. More design. More expectations! More!! More!!!!!

After years of customers buying them from me, I finally tested a pair of aggressive La Sportiva Solution climbing shoes at Seattle Bouldering Project. I was disappointed! At $170 MSRP, I was secretly hoping for mini jet engines to propel me up the wall! Granted, I haven't really climbed in over a year and half, so my whole body has weakened....(shh... I was falling off of V1s... shhhh.....)  but... isn't that what the "more" customers are looking for is? For the product to work for them instead of doing the actual work themselves?

Owning a pair of winter cycling overmitts in itself won't save the world. Really  It only works if you actually go out there in the cold rain. (brrr... suddenly saving the world seems a lot less exciting). Wearing aggressive and expensive climbing shoes doesn't make you a better climber. Only dedication will. (darn! Throwing money at something doesn't fix the problem!)

And yeah... I'm guilty. Very guilty. This past year has been a glaring example. I un-expectantly had to start my life over from scratch several times over the last year and half, and as result, I was on the downward spiral of a car-driving couch potato in need of a good kick in the arse. 

Until one day I got the memo that I would be product testing a Novara brand overmitt prototype. It didn't just save the world. Rather, it saved mine.

Seattle Spring

Magnolia Bud in Seattle

Seattle Spring: An Afternoon in the Washington Arboretum

A magnolia blossom yawns awake after a long winter’s nap. A soft fuzz cradles the bud as it braves the early spring chills. A young fern slowly uncurls to the sunshine after a season of damp grayness. Ravens and robins peck through the fresh green grass, spotted with white and purple wildflowers, looking for worms and seeds to feed their young. Squirrels scamper throughout the underbrush, searching for leftover nuts saved in winter stashes. Young couples venture to the gardens, beckoned by glimpses of sunshine, pushing a brand new baby carriage. Old men wander the trails, clutching binoculars seasoned by the years, but always ready for a new discovery in the dark evergreens.

A fern uncurling

As I turn my face towards the sun, I breathe in radiance and let the warmth soak my skin, which is a shade paler from a bleak winter. I sink to the ground to relish the smells of fresh growth mixed with lingering decay from the winter.

The past few months have seemed like rotten decay. I lost my job. I lost my love. I lost my housing. I lost my motorcycle. I lost a stable financial situation.  I lost more than I’m willing to share here. The rotten decay so visibly surrounded my path through the dreary winter, a compost of shattered dreams. Come spring, I realize the decay is not meant to hinder me. Rather, it enriches me to allow for fresh spring growth of change, the decay adding necessary nutrients of life experience to build upon and grow.

A layer of flower pedals have already fallen to the ground, lacing the path with hues of pink and white. They too will decay, bringing nutrients to the soil and encouraging beautiful growth. Life is like that… a series of blooms and decay, all of which make us stronger and healthier.

Tree Blossoms on the Path

What’s that? Yellow tulips pushing out of the muddy ground? Tree blossoms shimmering in the afternoon sunshine? A little girl jumping in mud puddles with pink rainboots? A puppy rolling happily in the grass?

Spring is here. New life is forming. Life is good! 

The Art of Scrambling

Love in the Rocks, Enchanted Rocks, TX

Children have been scrambling for thousands of years.

Until now.

In a short span of time, television, computers, and over-protection have squelched a natural instinct essential to our survival and physical movements. Kids used to go scramble up and down boulders and trees, developing muscles and agility that proves essential well into adult years. The boulders have been replaced with a couch and fear of lawsuit over a scraped knee.

While setting up rock climbs for a group of kids learning the sport of outdoor climbing, I created a mix of challenges, making sure we had the full spectrum of easy and difficult climbs.  The kids struggled. I climbed up to physically place their feet. I figured they have yet to develop the critical thinking skills required for structured climbing. No one was brave enough to touch the more "difficult" climbs. That's ok. I didn't push it. While challenges are good, I did not see the immediate need for them to descend after a very negative experience.  We broke for lunch.

Lunch evolved into fascination over watching kayakers and rafters test their skills in the gorge as well as keenly observing the tadpoles and larvae thriving in the pools of water on the rocks left from the recent rains.

These intent observations evolved into a long supervised scrambling session. I instructed them to keep their rock shoes and harnesses on (to keep them in the mental mode of climbing). We spent a long time scrambling over boulders, as well as being awed by the continual discoveries of wildlife and plants found in the cracks and pools. We even found a huge hole formation in the bedrock, which provided a fun way of sneaking in bouldering practice (climb in, climb out. The hole came up to my shoulders and I'm a tall gal!)

We probably spent at least an hour scrambling, exploring and laughing. I guess I could have herded them back to the ropes sooner, but I had an ulterior motive. Without even realizing it, they were developing confidence on the rock and reinforcing climbing techniques in a fun and non-intimidating environment. Furthermore, they were developing a love for nature, a personal passion of mine to see kids outside.

Arches National Park, Utah

It worked. I suggested that we get one more climb in before breaking down. I couldn't get them off the ropes!! Their climbing and attitudes noticeably increased tremendously compared to the morning. They were self- motivated to try everything, even the harder climbs. They were even telling each other where to put feet and hands. They had the opportunity to let their bodies rediscover what children have been doing for thousands of years. They found the ancient rhythm of childhood and it showed.

For rock climbing programs geared towards children, I encourage instructors to allow supervised and safe free play in between structured climbing sessions. The benefits are numerous. Not only will the children tap into their ancient rhythm, they re-learn the joys of exploring a video game free nature wonderland!

Enchanted Rocks, TX

2010: A Retail Christmas

Christmas in Washington brings a multitude of iconic memories and experiences: The National Tree and Congressional Tree is lit, the US Botanical Gardens becomes alive with model trains amidst plant memorials, twinkling lights glitter in the city, temperatures dips with fierce breezes, and rush hour becomes more intense with holiday shoppers. On the inside of store windows, Christmas enters a new dimension for those living the retail life. At the first chime of Jingle Bells the morning after Thanksgiving, employees brace for the most recent evolutionary development of the human species: The Holiday Shopper. Having worked two Christmas seasons at an outdoor gear shop, I’ve learned to adapt my world view to a retail Christmas with the following theories.

I: First Line of Defense: Overcoming the Language Barrier

As employees of a specialty gear shop, we prefer to think of ourselves as tech-savvy in the latest gear developments of the outdoor world, to a point where it is easy to forget a majority of customers are only able to express themselves through the most basic of lingual options. At the risk of unleashing consumer frustration if we hesitate, we must understand that “portable hood” refers to a balaclava face mask, “toe-slippers” is layman terms for Vibram Five Finger Shoes, and “those things” (paired with finger wiggling motion) is just another way of saying chemical hand warmers.

II. Second Line of Defense: Understanding the Source of Frustrations

The customer who starts breathing heavily when you cannot suggest the perfect size for their beloved one who is 100 miles away? Someday they will figure out we do not have telepathic brain waves.... and no, I will not size model that thong!
Or the customer who desperately prods for you to say they will be warm enough in thin socks and blue jeans without any thermal base layers? It is tempting to pretend that you have a magical warming power to grant them freedom from winter clothes, but sooner or later they will develop some common sense (one can only hope!) with the realization that cold weather comfort comes with a price. Just think of it as doing them a favor.

III. Third Line of Defense: Recognizing the difference between intelligence and idiocracy.

The customer who demands to be treated with utmost royalty and respect when requesting an item to be on sale and acts hurts and betrayed when you politely decline? (I only have so much power over the computer brain) Or the customer who actively insists on dismissing your trained expertise for an on-call boyfriend who is clearly incompetent? It’s ok. You’re not dating or living with them, nor with the consequences of their decisions.
Then there’s my favorite: the customer who thinks you’re a goddess and will buy anything you touch, even it means buying a $100+ Jetboil system for coffee when all they really needed was a $20 Java Press. Just… savor the moment… I suppose.

IV. Fourth line of defense: Realizing that People will just be People... with all manners of weirdness associated

This is evident through the customer who thinks by talking about an item long enough or by staring at similar items, the desired product will magically appear. And if it doesn’t, it is your fault of course!
Some customers just like to be right, even when wrong, as evidenced by the college professor wanna-be who devises complex mathematical equations to justify their reasoning of chosen gear for cold weather camping... and when you disprove the imaginary equation with logic, they insist on clinging to their derived incorrect conclusions. Thank goodness I’m not on that trip!

Weirdness also associates itself with wastefulness. Despite the environmental push to preserve our natural resources by bringing your own shopping bag, rare is the customer that has actually adopted this theory into an active lifestyle habit. Insult to environmental injury, many holiday consumers insist that products be individually bagged, then again placed in a larger bag. And God forbid we do not provide further resources in the form of gift boxes. It’s disgusting really. Especially when you personally handle thousands of bags you know will just end up in a landfill... a river... a mountain path... scarring our home forever.

It’s easy to drown in the holiday insanity... of demanding customers, a constant mess to clean up... the 7 day work weeks.... too easy. But the insanity of the 2010 holiday season made me savor the beauty of Christmas Day even more. The nagging requests surrounding me at all angles dissolved into the aromas of beef wellington and fondue and the smooth Christmas Jazz playing in the background. Just the peace, love, and joy of Christmas mass and family... of an unexpected Christmas package from a mother... of preparing the Christmas meal for local family... of the joy of giving gifts and the sweet nothingness of sitting on the couch surrounded by loved ones.

The day was too short as it was back to the daily 7 day work week grind the very next day, but the warm memories linger. All of the sudden, I am not in the mood to teach my climbing class or to fold the eternal supply of fleeces. These duties threaten to chase away the warm feelings.

Today, as I pushed aside a clatter of hangers, I knew deep inside my time as a retail employee must slowly wind to a trickle. A supervisor position (with better pay and potential benefits) is available to me. But my applications and resumes are elsewhere. I have been sucked of my energy, my passions, and my life. I feel like a shell of who I once was.

Here’s to hoping the joy and warmth of the realness of the Christmas season will linger throughout the year!

At the time of this writing, I was working seven day work weeks between two jobs in the Washington, DC area. I have since left to follow my dreams out West. I’m still figuring out what those dreams are, but I do know this… life is so much more than a shallow feeling of getting or receiving the latest tech gadget or new high-tech jacket. Sure, these things are nice…. But the simple joy of spending time with loved ones doing activities you enjoy is real.  Hugs and love! 

Guest post from the Siamese kitten

The kitten seemed SO insistent on typing my next post for me. Perhaps she was just trying to be kind since she knew my wrists were hurting from the motorcycle accident.  So I saved all my documents, opened up a blank page and let her have at it. In addition to finding numerous keyboard shortcuts and figuring out the website to program Facebook, this is what I got.

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The kitty had so much fun, but unfortunately does not seem satisfied. How does one break the news that a career path in writing probably isn’t for her? 

On the other hand, she does a rather fine job of untying my shoes, running off with my motorcycle keys, getting stuck in drawers, destroying my phone charger, attacking my toes while I walk, napping in the bathroom sink... getting into all sorts mischief.

I love it that life here in the flatlands can't be boring with a kitten in the house! :-)

A Self-Centered Day?

Too often, we think in terms of “I”, and “me”. Our endeavors seek self-promotion. This is not always a bad thing since we have a moral duty to take care of ourselves. I could rant about people who don’t take care of their bodies thus raising the cost of health-care. Or I could bitterly rant about people who don’t care to self-promote themselves with employment taking advantage of the welfare system, therefore raising my taxes. But judging them is not the point of this post. Rather, I should be judging myself and leave the judging of others up to God.

Instead, I ask, what can I do to improve myself? How can I use that to improve the world around me?

Recently, a group of friends decided to climb at Annapolis Rocks. The previous day I was feeling down. A long ride on my motorcycle, a 2 mile approach hike, and a beautiful day on the rocks seemed like the perfect therapy for a me-centered day.

However, we live in a flawed world. The same day was my boyfriend’s plan to volunteer with Booz Allen Build Together. I wrestled with ideas. They don’t need me there..... They have plenty of people.... I really want/need some me-time....

At the last minute, I volunteered at Build Together. I’m not sure of the details of the home-owner's lives that we help. They were not mine to know except for the fact they are going through a hard time, harder than mine. They had no running hot water in the (only) bathroom sink, a sink hole of sorts in the backyard, and dire need of a paint job among other necessary repairs.

Suddenly a me-centered day on my motorcycle and a climbing rope didn’t seem so therapeutic anymore.

Hidden Rainbow

Rainbow by our balcony after a summer thundershower

Ever since the days of Noah and the Ark, rainbows have been a symbol of hope, promises, and dreams after the storm. We’ve all seen the uplifting glow after a torrential howling downpour. It is so fitting and easy to relate the storms outside to the storms in our own life. The rainbow brings a promise of sunny days ahead.

But what about those sunny warm days where a storm still rages in your soul? There is no rainbow. The sunny day has already arrived.

I was experiencing a dreary sunny day after receiving a series of rejection letters for several jobs. Slumping into the seat by the fountain, I deleted the depressing messages off my phone. I looked up from my seat by the misty water fountain and shaded my eyes, where a streak of color catches my eye.

A rainbow!

If you look closely, you'll see the rainbow in the fountain

A Touch of Love

A blind horse and his brother

“Good. Goo-oo-d. Calm. Good Boy”

A reassuring voice speaks through the darkness, a hand caressing his ear. Reaching to his right, Joplin nibbles on the muscular neck of his faithful brother.

Meet “Joplin”, a blind rescue horse on Wye Island, Maryland. Left to die, Joplin’s story transcends from a bleak road of demise to rediscovering life all over again. Joplin used to see, just like the other horses grazing in the pasture. I wish I could understand the neighs of horse language to tell the gap in the story.

I can, however, feel determination as I run my hands against Joplin’s neck and stroke his soft inquisitive nose. I can sense the love as Joplin’s brother, standing tall and proud, steps closer to let Joplin know he is there, watching out for him. I can also listen to the compassion of the adoptive owners tell  a story of a horse and his dedication to overcome struggles and challenges.

They told a story of how adopting Joplin was like having a baby again. Joplin learned spoken words to guide him on his walk and daily activities. He learned to go over logs by raising his hoof to feel and estimate the height. Most importantly, Joplin learned to trust the voice of his new owners.

Joplin’s brother told a different story through the power of touch. Michelangelo once said, “To touch is to give life”. Joplin and his brother may just be horses, but they understand how important a touch can be.

How important is touch?

“... thanks to neuroscientist Edmund Rolls that touch activates the brain’s orbitofrontal cortex, which is linked to feelings of reward and compassion.

We also know that touch builds up cooperative relationships—it reinforces reciprocity between our primate relatives, who use grooming to build up cooperative alliances.

There are studies showing that touch signals safety and trust, it soothes. Basic warm touch calms cardiovascular stress. It activates the body’s vagus nerve, which is intimately involved with our compassionate response, and a simple touch can trigger release of oxytocin, aka “the love hormone.”    (Keltner, Greater Good)

“In fact, in other research I’ve found that people can not only identify love, gratitude, and compassion from touches but can differentiate between those kinds of touch, something people haven’t done as well in studies of facial and vocal communication.” (Keltner, Greater Good)

Give someone a hug today. Touch their hand. Offer a shoulder rub. Hold a baby. A simple touch  goes farther than you can imagine.


Reference:
http://greatergood.berkeley.edu/article/item/hands_on_research/

Picture credit:
Allison Popovich, Allison Rose Photography

Dare to Party Like an Old-Timer!

View of Seneca Rocks from Seneca Shadows campground

Technology amazes me. The rise of smart-phones enabled the power of the human fingertip, yet at the same time, disabled human social skills. Yes, we have the online “social network”, but do we have what it takes to put our face where our tweets and status updates are?

Take, for example, the Seneca Rocks Cinco de Mayo party. Seneca Rocks memorializes a bygone era. Not only is it a pristine trad climbing destination without bolted routes, Seneca situates in the middle of a radio quiet zone. No cell service, Internet, Facebook, Twitter, or GPS.

Every year the Gendarme (Seneca’s local climbing shop) hosts a Cinco de Mayo party. The concept may be hard for members of this generation to fully embrace: no cell phone in the pocket to retreat to for fake text messages or Facebook when feeling socially awkward or bored. Those of an older generation remembered times gone by and slipped into the ancient, almost forgotten, rhythm. But the younger folks were there - some adapting to traditional ways with ease... others bewildered with the sudden loss of electronic retreat.

I challenge you: Put the phone down. Look around you. Embrace a world beyond an LCD screen. Watch the birds “twitter”. Put your “face in a book” while soaking up the sunshine. Build your social network with handshakes, hugs, and smiles instead of “Friend Requests”. Discover the joy of strengthening your brain with a map and compass instead of GPS. Spend your time at a campsite, not a website.

Life is short. Dare to live.

Seneca Rocks, W.VA

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)