Rebecca Rusch is one bad beeyautch, peep this. Her new movie is rad. It’s called Blood Road and it’s the best movie I’ve seen from Red Bull Media House. As painful as it was to drive to helL.A. for the premiere on Monday, I did, and unlike some Santa Monica hipsters I actually really like Red Bull movies. I’m not just saying this because Rebecca’s a bro-ette either (although I would). It’s really good. Attorney General Jeff Sessions will reimburse you if you’re not totally satisfied.
She was so hungry after filming she tried to eat my leg. Silly Rebecca, legs are for casts (not mouths).
In an ongoing effort to annoy coastal Americans the Trump administration continues to threaten protected federal lands. Obviously this defeats my tree-hugging/ivory tower conspiracy to waste Earth, as revealed in NPR’s analysis:
When I was growing up in Washington State the big environmental fight was over protection of local old-growth forest. Environmental extremists would drive steel spikes into tree trunks to break loggers’ chainsaws and timber workers would nail dead Spotted Owls to sign posts, went the rumors. My divorced Mom and Dad were respectively an environmental activist and land developer, so this played out almost as nasty in the news as it did at home. I experienced both perspectives. What happened to families that depended on logging was awful—I saw it—but ultimately society judged that virgin forests in the Pacific Northwest were more valuable, and I agree. That’s my take anyway; certainly you could find voices from both camps that would passionately argue neither won.
It ruins livelihoods to make the moral decision to sacrifice industry for conservation. History favors the conservationists though. They preserve something more valuable than the loggers’/miners’/drillers’ legacy, I’m sorry to say.
So fuck this:
U.S. President Donald Trump signed an executive order on Wednesday to identify national monuments that can be rescinded or resized – part of a broader push to open up more federal lands to drilling, mining and other development.
Yeah, climbing at Malibu Creek a couple weeks ago. Falling at Malibu Creek, to be precise. As much as the hike in sucked, the hike out mega sucked. No surgery this time—nice try, Universe—but a couple more months on crutches and a sweet cast.
And further evidence that not all surfing videos are boring, a.k.a. Matt Meola is not a pussy:
I haven’t come up with much to write about lately because I’m still kinda pissed about the new President and I’ve been building a table. None of this has stopped me from rando YouTubing however, like so:
motivating surf short
Dark Light – Desert Escape
“Dark Light can be purchased at theoceanpeople.com/product/dark-light-book (while stocks last.)”
“This Clip features Brad Norris, Philip Read, Kerby Brown and Luke Wyllie from some of the adventures contained within the book.”
“Thanks to Corsaire Aviation for taking us to these remote locations.”
“Aerial footage by Chris White”
“Water cinematography by Tom Jennings”
2016 was stoopid
2016 The Movie
“It’s the horror movie of the year.”
The Netherlands welcomes Trump in his own words
“The whole world was watching for the inauguration of the 45th president of the United States: Donald J. Trump. Because we realize it’s better for us to get along, we decided to introduce our tiny country to him. In a way that will probably appeal to him the most.”
If Steve Edwards were still with us he would be 56 today. So I ask myself what Steve would think of my life in its current state.
Steve, I’m getting out there about as much as I possibly can. I’ve been on dawn patrol for every big swell since my leg’s been put back together. I’ve paddled, biked, weightlifted, climbed, hiked and chilled outdoors this fall more than ever before. I’m very content.
It can’t always be fun at the beach, I know. There are still two climbing projects stuck in my craw. I haven’t forgotten, Steve. I’m still focused. I’ll get them wrapped up so I can move onto weirder obsessions. I just need a little more time here, let’s not get pushy.
Thanks, I suppose, for being our messiah of fun. Now we can hold you up as a sacrosanct justification for following our own fun quests. Mostly just thanks for having tons of fun while you were here. That ended up being really inspiring.
There was this website I can’t find any more that recommended drinking accomplishments to fulfill before you die. One item on the list was to drink with your Dad. Another was to open and close a bar. They both stuck with me and I have since had drinks with Dad. I’ve been meaning to check the other one off my list as well. However, these days I really don’t need another excuse to drink so that’s been on the back burner. But friends’ recent Birthday Challenges, involving lots of different activities to fill entire days, has this day-long bar epic simmering in the forefront of my mind.
Something about the bar odyssey transcends even drinking. It has to be the all-day aspect. It occurred to me to replace the bar’s open and close events with Sunrise and Sunset, so that’s what I did yesterday: I open and closed the ocean.
It’s lame that the stupid bar metaphor led me to this concept but whatever. My thinking now is to save the hangboard workouts, the weightlifting, mobility work, everything that’s typically done inside, for dark hours. The climbing, paddling, biking, shredding, outside stuff should fill the daylight hours. I know this is a good idea because I’m pissed at me for not realizing it earlier.
Immediately there is an obvious division between outdoor and indoor activities. This also defines the often blurry line between things I train for versus things I do to train.
Here’s a photo of my Mom’s dogs. They get frustrated too. They didn’t vote.
I was pretty bummed to see Trump’s election to the the U.S. Presidency. But if almost half my voting countrymates want this, I respect that. There’s clearly a divide between me and my tree-hugging friends and the rest of red-blooded America. For that I blame our recent leaders. It is the fault of our political leadership that this many Americans are frustrated to the point they have chosen such a vitriolic representative. I’m sorry it took this event to make me appreciate the frustration. I want everyone to be brought into the fold, not to feel the negativity this election cycle has embodied. Sorry I forgot about y’all.
I am an Eagle Scout. It’s not the most diverse group of blokes one could join but it did introduce me to some good stuff. My passion for climbing, for one, was spawned during my Boy Scout days.
“Look wide, and even when you think you are looking wide – look wider still.”
— Robert Baden-Powell, Founder of Scouting
The motto of the Boy Scouts is “Be Prepared”. That’s really good advice for a climber, and not in an altogether obvious way. Obviously one needs to be at the peak of their fitness to climb their hardest. But is that really when a climber sends their project? It might not be. Envirionmental conditions also need to be right. The confluence of factors that could allow an ascent all need to line up relatively well for the opportunity to present itself. In practice this could mean I surprise myself with a redpoint on an uncharacteristically cold, dry day during a fitness lull. Conversely, an ascent could materialize when there is a little humidty or it is a little too hot but my fitness is just then peaking. Ideally I’m ready physically and psychologically when the universe tosses me a bone. I need to be prepared.
“A Scout smiles and whistles under all circumstances.”
— Robert Baden-Powell
Adding to the list of things I suck at: Weightlifting. I used to think the Bench Press was complex. It’s not. Pick any joint in my body. Any joint, pick one. That joint can’t figure out how to Snatch or Clean & Jerk. Even if my brain knew how to tell it what to do it physically could not be made to go into that position. What joint did you pick? Ankle: no. Knee: no. Hip, scapula, shoulder, elbow, wrist? No, no, no, no, no.
I’ve been trying though. I’ve been going to the local CrossFit, whose owner both oddly and thankfully agrees with me that CrossFit has an image problem. She’s also a USA Weightlifting certified instructor and former gymnast so I forgive her. We agree that my “technique” super sucks. She’ll stand there and say stuff like, “Use your legs.” That’s where I’m at. I’m the special needs guy over in the corner trying to row the fricking bar up like an upside down and inverted pull-up. My legs are fully turned off. One day last week I walked over and did a one-arm on the pull-up bar just to recoup some dignity. She was like, “That’s crazy.” No. What’s crazy is my max deadlift is ~95lbs.
I feel it now in my climbing. Not one neutron is wasted contemplating anything below my wist. I guess I look for where to put my feet but that’s the end of the story. When I’m tired my whole thought process is like, “Where’s my elbow? How’s my breathing? Core is tight?” Lately I do force myself to think, “Where’s my knee? Where’s my hip?” If I’m asking the answer is usually, “Not where it should be.” That’s too bad because, if I’m asking, my arms are probably blasted and my legs sure could help out. I’m hoping weightlifting can get these old bones to start talking to each other.