I took another calming breath, smiled at the world, wiggled my toes, and turned around continuing the climb.  The freedom was exhilarating, no harness, rope, belayer, or mental thickness.  Despite my spirit cartwheels I moved carefully up the rock, keeping my mind now/here. 

Free-soloing is dangerous, because a trip or stumble means death.  As a Rocky Mountain Rescue friend of mine put it:

 “I won’t free solo until I can go a year without tripping on the sidewalk, and that’s never happened.” 

The chances are too great that a slip will happen;  however, as another climber friend stated:

 “Free soloing on a grade you are really comfortable on is about as dangerous as skiing back country in Colorado; both have risks that are out of our control.”

I used to free solo stuff all the time as a kid; buildings, trees, rock.  My dad and I once got all the way up a chimney on the back side of Mount Rushmore in the Black Hills and couldn’t top out.  I freaked, cried, thought we were going to die, but my dad calmed me down and talked me through the careful downclimb. 

I pretty much gave up rock climbing at that point.  From age 12 to 20 I pursued other things, but then in college discovered climbing ropes and harnesses, and re-opened that door.  Today I love taking falls in the gym, pushing the limits of fear and climbing ability in a totally safe manner.  I regularly climb 5.12 on plastic, and occasionally push 5.13.  Outside I push 5.12 on a really good day, and often flash hard 5.11’s. 

Anyway, I don’t list these as a glory-seeking statement.  If there is one thing I’ve fully integrated while in Boulder, it’s that whatever your level there is always someone better, so quit with the ratings and get out and do it for yourself!  I merely state this to show that free-soloing the 1st Flatiron is well below my normal climbing limit, and on par with a grade I occasionally do in the gym with only one arm, or blind folded. 

I’ve stayed away from Trad because the limits are more nebulous than sport.  How far can one go between gear placements?  Where does trad end and fee-solo begin?  Earlier this summer I opened that door with a friend.  We simul-climbed the 5th Flatiron, and it was awesome, fun, and easy. 

Friday afternoon, when the right turn lane to my house was backed up with an abnormal amount of cars I went straight instead, and ended up standing on 1000 feet of rock on top of a Flatiron in my Vibram Five Fingers. 

Free soloing has been circling in my spirit ever since that day in the Black Hills with my dad.   I have two incredible friends, Scott, and Steph, I respect a lot, who explore the human spirit by walking the edges of fear and exhilaration through free soloing, base jumping, highlining, etc.  They have taught me lessons I might never have learned. I know the challenges are mental in free-soloing; the moves are easy, but the mind state is not. 

It is like many other things in my life that require moving to a place of consuming success.  Handling multi-million dollar space optics at work ;  driving a rescue vehicle with Boulder Emergency Squad; and belaying a good friend are all simple tasks with extreme consequences.  A “slip” is not an option, and so the mind must be prepared for cool, efficient, success. 

Friday’s climb was smooth like that, enthusiasm was held in check, and so was fear.  I felt both of them climbing beside me as silent companions; every once in awhile one would make a noise as if to distract me, but the other would say:

 “Shhh. Let Larkin climb!” and inner silence would remain.

Such endeavors pull me back to the sharp end of life, aware, conscious, here, full of power and succinctly able to create the moments of my future.

 The force of the collision pushed a shriek out of my lungs, and yet, when that shriek was finished I was still flying through the air, accelerating downward and outward, and so I quickly filled my lungs and let loose another.  And as a third shriek became a full whoop, falling became flying, and my motion changed from downward to up, and out…

A huge rope swing was set up on Monkey Face in Smith Rock State Park near Bend Oregon.  We had heard stories about it the day before from a local, along with a boast of “It was the most fun thing I have ever done.”  We hiked up to Monkey Face to take a look, and it was still rigged!

 I took pictures with the zoom lens and checked out the equipment.  The rigging looked bomber.  A double line for the swing, well backed up, and protected from abrasion dangled 100ft or so down from a prominent prow of the reverse tapering Monkey Face monolith. 

Plan A was simple, swing until I quite moving, then uncoil the swing ropes and rappel down the double line to the ground.  My ATC was already locked in, so I wouldn’t have anything to do, no rope transfers, rigging adventures, or possible mishaps.  Safe, simple, perfect.

The wind was intense!  After the 4^th swing my path changed orbit and I smacked into the Monkey Face tower, using my feet and legs as shock absorbers.  Finally I sat still dangling in space, over a hundred feet from anything except an overhung aid route.

…I sat in my harness, letting the adrenaline seep through my skin and float away on the breeze.  Looking up along the rope to the anchors I saw one of the climbers poking his head over the edge to check on my status.  I heard some excited voices from the rock I had launched from, as the nearby fabric of life rippled making room for the intense energy of the recent event. 

 The harness I had meticulously tightened while prepping for the swing was starting to cut off the blood flow to my legs as I sat in space and uncoiled the ropes.  My legs began to tingle as I lowered the lines toward the ground.   Fully uncoiled they dangled, and snapped in the breeze still far short of the rocks below…  Damn.

Plan B involved a complicated rope transfer with a single line rappel to the ground.  I had hoped to avoid this, but the swing turned out to be bigger than I thought.  I mentally added another 50ft to all my distance estimates which left me 120ft from the anchors and 150ft from the ground.  The peak of my swing probably put me close to 300ft off the deck with another 200-300ft down to the river below.  Wow!   It was one hell of a swing! 

Take a look at the photos my brother took, and the video Sophia took to get a good feel for the magnitude.  Major props to Joel for such an awesome rigging job.  I would have liked to meet you, but thanks for making it bomber and leaving it up an extra day.

Monkey Face Rope Swing Sequence (jump sequence as taken from my brother’s position).

I adjusted the angle of the light and it caught something reflective as Andy hauled himself across the untensioned highline back to the access tunnel. The smell of rust and the reverberating echoes of friends rigging the line filtered through my concentrating mind as I adjusted exposure settings on the camera. What a wild place!

The steel launch doors high above were painted red with sheets of rusted metal peeling off. Andrew sat on a stairway to nowhere surveying the operation; his shadow powerfully projected on the ceiling. Although no protection was set for the ascent A rope hung nearby for rappelling back down to the tunnel. The multitude of pipes, bolts, conduit, and miscellaneous hardware provided plenty of bomber hand and foot holds for easy ascent.

34′ below the highline the water reflected the blackness of above giving the launch tube an eerie bottomless appearance. It was impossible to say just how deep the water was, but probably over 50′ of rust, chemicals, and stagnant liquid. A fall from the walls of the tube or the line itself probably wouldn’t result in immediate death, but the thought of touching the toxic vat of liquid was quite unpleasant.

Friend after friend sent the 1st ever underground highline as I climbed around exploring and getting shots from various angles. The focused calm shown while on the line was inspiring. I tied in, and moved out on the line, sat for a moment, took a long slow breath, and then stood up. Wham! The unnatural energy of the place sucker-punched my balance, and put my concentration in a choke hold. I whipped under the line, caught by my harness, but loosing my hat to the blackness below. A couple more tries, each one accompanied by a fall, left me pensive, and bowled over by the freight train in my chest. I moved back to the solid ground, an edge found, a limit tested. No send today.

The explosion rocked the complex, reverberating through each of us with a shocking deep roar, a taste of what this place would have been like during a missile launch. Nice work friend, a bit of simple chemistry and preparation threw a whole new level of excitement in amongst an already pivotal mission. Passing the double 4” thick steel blast doors, was yet another reminder of the power that was once held underground here.

We made our way back above ground greeted by the hum of high voltage lines, a just-past-full moon, and a breeze of warm Colorado air. It was quite a different trip then the last exploration Buried Blackness and yet again amazing, exciting, full of good people, and adventuring. Thanks to all who made it great, the best sleepless adventure I’ve had in awhile.

Falling… head first, arms spread, feet trailing, heart accelerating, universes close in dangerously fast. Past-future, fear-exhilaration, up-down, life-death, love; all collide in a kinetic snap of adrenaline as I hit the apex of my plunge. I’m disoriented, dangling upside-down as my eyes search to find something recognizable to focus on. City lights, dark rock, flashlights, sky, all whirl by as I spin, stop, and slowly right myself.

Whew, I sit… b        r              e                a                  t              h    .                .                        .                and watch the light of Golden below me as my heart slows a bit. I’m dangling by my climbing harness tethered to the Golden Spire highline Scott, Josh, and Said rigged. I pull myself back up to the line and flip myself back on top of it for another standing up attempt. My feet are chilly in my toe shoes and the snow flecked wind curls up from the city below. My heartbeat picks up again as I scoot out a bit from the rock, worried by how close I came to hitting it on the previous fall. One more deep full breath and I gather my strength under me and stand up on my right leg. UP!, left foot on the line, crouching down for balance, and bam, falling again, more controlled this time, feet first at least.

My body shakes as I pull myself up the tether again and work myself towards the nearside anchors. I sit for a second on the rock with that single intense moment of adrenaline fully permeating my consciousness. I know that Scott said something to me, and I responded appropriately, but I can’t remember the words we exchanged. Pure life-death-love-energy occupies all the thoughts I have to give.

The night was one of those random adventure happenings frequently memorable and uniquely valuable. I drove down to Golden and hiked up the North Table to meet Scott and Said around 9pm this last Wednesday. Both are incredible slackliners, adrenaline junkies, life ponderers, and fascinating people.

Scott initiated the evening, and I jumped at the opportunity to try a highline. I’ve gotten pretty decent at slacklining over the last couple months, and felt ready to integrate my experience into the elevation, scenery, and adrenaline potential I love about climbing. It was mind blowingly difficult, and rocked my state of being. I’m always calm and collected in physically stressful situations, but somehow the darkness, wind, balance, adrenaline, and height put me through the door into a new level, expanding my experience range a few steps further in the peak-being direction.

Here are some photos Said took.

Scott standing powerfully in the center of the line.

The line itself with Golden city lights in the background.

Scott returning during a timed exposure.

Me sitting in the center of the line, getting ready for a stand up attempt.

Scott, Said, and myself backlit by the glow of Denver.

Check out Scott and Said’s amazing blogs.

Scott Rogers

Said Parirokh

I don’t normally send out updates on my life if I’m merely sitting at home in my living room watching the day, but I feel I haven’t yet shared the last page in the chapter of my life I’ve included you all in over the winter. What did I get out of all of this? Why did I come back? How am I different? And where am I going now?

First, look at this beautiful window! (pics attached) My wonderful mom made it for me out of stained glass after I came back from Thailand, and the frame I just finished yesterday. It is made of loving time and energy, in a project where the goal was to express a mother’s love for her son. It’s amazing how words like “I love you” grow old and warn as the years go by, but when hours and hours of energy and time are put into a beautiful creation, somehow spring comes again to those words. It truly feels as though part of you, part of Oregon, part of my childhood are sitting together with me sharing this day, and enjoying each other’s company. Mom, I love you. Thank you for this wonderful gift.

Speaking of Thailand, the last two weeks I spent in the country were amazing. As I mentioned before I was in Tonsai, a climbing Mecca down south. Well, after a couple days I connected with a wonderful group of climbers/humans/friends and spent the rest of my time with them. In a community precariously perched between climber vacationers who come, climb, drink, dance, and leave the world pretty much as they found it, and the local people who work hard to keep their real friends, and yet still be friendly to the former group, my group of friends was quite extraordinary. We very close knit, and yet at the same, never failed to befriend a visitor, for a moment, a day, or a lifetime.

They taught me to lead climb on a monster overhung 7A (5.11A-C) route called Babes in Thailand, which for the non climbers was F#$%ing Hard. For all the climbing, EATING, napping, reading, Jenga, jokes, and heckling; this Tonsai family was an incredible way to spend the last of my time in Asia. Thanks Ollie, Laura, Zach, Santana, Grady, and David, you truly are extraordinary.

As I returned to the US, thoughts of cultures, religions, friends, family, work, love, purpose, life, and everything else that has ever mattered to me bounced around in the roulette wheel of my mind. Which chapter of all my possible futures would my life come to fall in?

Sometimes the best way to see who a person has become, how they have changed, and where they are going, is to spend time with a good friend. Each person you interact with is like seeing a distorted mirror of yourself, and yet, if you find someone who knows you well, than it’s easy to see through the distortions, to the true nature of the viewer. So, Aaron and I went on a road trip we had been planning all winter.

A week with this great guy had the predicted effect of having a really kick ass time, and the surprising result of some clues to some of the ways Asia changed me without my knowing. Take, for instance, my love of travel and new adventures.

For the first time in my life I am completely happy with where I am, who I am, and what I am doing. Every day of my life I’ve felt the desire to explore a new country, or culture, meet a new person, or try a new activity. Here and now I am satisfied, and it’s a wonderful feeling of being strongly rooted to who I am and where I choose to spend my life. It is far from “I don’t want to meet anyone or go anyplace new” which sounds a bit closed minded. No, I’ll still travel and meet new people, but not because I feel desperate to do so, but because it is my chosen direction. Strange I know… especially since I’ve always associated myself most strongly with adventure energy. But so exciting! It gives me such a solid base to launch from, that I feel sure this next chapter will in its own way bring me further and higher than ever before.

Ok, this is getting ridiculously long, and yet I feel it may be my last communication with many of you for awhile, so bare with me if you will! Or come back and read it some other time when you are bored. Or don’t read it and just come by and say hi!

Think now of the temporary nature of life. In a way it makes everything more precious; each moment, each interaction, each thought deserves one’s full attention. This is a hard thing to grapple with in a world permeated by multitasking, distractions, and scattered focus, but well worth it! My time meditating at Doi Suthep was very valuable despite the misery and hardship that went with it.

Most people in the world race and race, turn around and race again in hopes of somehow getting ahead enough to be able to stop and think, and when we are forced to slow down or stop for a second or 40 at a red light we curse such a forced pause. Life is much more enjoyable when it is lived at a slower pace with more time between one event and the next, a moment of reflection, or heck, even a moment to NOT think about anything, and merely feel the world around us.

Since I’ve been back in Boulder I’ve felt the pull from all sides the busy framework of my life I left behind in the fall. It’s hard to gracefully disengage enough to slow life to the place I’d like it to flow at, but I’m giving it my best shot.

I want to be able to give the things in my life the time and energy it takes to really enjoy the process of the activity. What are the things in my life? Well, framework wise, my job is truly important to me. I realized while spending so much time NOT working, that I really enjoy my work, despite bad days, bad weeks, bad months, it is something that is very important to me. The Boulder Emergency Squad as well, has given me a lot of meaning, and I look forward to contributing to BES and the Boulder community with the energy from my life. My house with Kris is technically a pain in the ass, but it is also one of the most wonderful things I experience every day. Sure the fact that a waterline broke two nights ago and flooded my utility closet ruining my hot water heater which will probably be $1k to $2k to get up to snuff was a crappy little while, but hey, that’s the good side of everything being temporary. The bad parts of life pass too!

I spend a huge part of my winter with my wonderful family back in Oregon. I spent more time with my Grandpa than I have since I’ve been tiny. We sat and talked as friends, discussing life’s challenges now, in the past, and in the future. Thank you Grandpa, for the time you spent with me this winter. I feel this life and photo project we have begun has its own framework of goals and rewards, but that it is far more useful as a way for us to hang out and enjoy each other’s company.

I’m in the initial stages of looking into buying both a wellness center in Estes Park (On the River Healing Arts), as well as a house in Portland. Both with good friends, and both which excite me every day!

So what did I leave out… Well, many little new ideas, thoughts, life modalities, but my personal life is what you might ask about. Because of my strong-rooted sense of self, caused by spending most of the winter by myself I feel at a strange and exciting fork in the road. On one side, I’ve had enough time alone to know that is not how I want to spend my life. If I happen to connect with someone wonderful the opportunity for a deep and lasting relationship is far stronger than it has ever been before. And yet, on the other side, if I don’t, the energy I have to give will create a wonderful group of friends around me to last a lifetime.

I appreciate you reading this, and being curious about my life, or maybe just being bored somewhere and choosing to entertain yourself this way rather than some other. I feel happier, more grounded, more hopeful, and excited to enjoy each moment as it comes along than ever before. I look forward to the beginning of the next chapter, and I think back with thanks at what the last one has given me.

Happy Spring!