An Olympus Afternoon

Moonlight over Mt. Olympus

While Steve was resting up for his marathon on Saturday morning, Jake and Sam decided to climb Mt. Olympus as a duo.  Both Sam and Steve had done this climb many times, but for Jake it was a first.  Many of his hikes with the Trail Monkeys are firsts.  And again he had no idea what he was in for, particularly when it comes to vertical gain.

Sam mentioned the route would be something like this...

"First there's the beginning climb, then there's the switchbacks, then you get to the river, then you get to the caterpillar crawl, then you go up the Never-Ending-Staircase, and then you're on the saddle, and then there's an easy rock-scramble to the top."

Sounds easy right?  Monkeys can climb just about anything!  Or so I thought.  We started out by wondering if we should try to break the record, Steve's done it in some ridiculous time of 1:35, but we both quickly realized that this wasn't happening on this day.  Neither Sam nor I had been able to run much the last month, what with school starting and another kid on the way and football practice and basically life in general getting in the way of our free time.  So we decided we'd enjoy the climb rather than try to push ourselves too much.

Mt. Olympus in Greece

By way of information, The Mt. Olympus wilderness area and the Mt. Olympus peak in Salt Lake City it named after....Mt. Olympus in Greece!  SLC's Mt. Olympus is roughly the same height (9,026 feet) as Thessaloniki's Mt. Olympus, (9,570 feet), and the two mountains have very similar features and vertical gain.  Although The Greek version is a much more technical climb, with 5 different pitches that require rock climbing and rock climbing gear.  The SLC version only requires...calf muscles.

Nearly every trail report about Mt. Olympus talks about how the trail is "strenuous but rewarding", or "the hike is fairly steep", or "Difficulty:  Strenuous".  And so it goes.  I've never had cramps while hiking before but got some good ones while on the Never-Ending-Staircase.  Calf Cramps.  Still not a bad first climb for climbing the mountain named after the Home of the Greek Gods.  The fall leaves were beautiful, the scramble to the top was more fun that it was dangerous, and it didn't hurt so bad that I don't want to go back.  Maybe even to challenge Steve's time to the top....

Once we reached the top, Sam was in cell phone range and was able to check in with the wife, you know, to make sure she didn't go into labor or anything important like that while he was on top of the mountain.  Also, the mailbox has a summit registry in it.  Jack Frost has even been to the top of this mountain.

Monkeys break for bananas

Summer Trail Series VI - Partial Credit for Twin Peaks

We started our day fairly early, leaving the trailhead just after 5:00 AM, our goal being to make it as far up Twin Peaks as possible before having to turn back around to make it back down in the valley in time for work.  Twin Peaks is the highest mountain on the Little Cottonwood Canyon ridge (11,489'), and it is named Twin Peaks because the peak itself is made up of two similarly shaped summits situated on the same mountain top.  It was still fairly dark when we started, so Headlamp Huff led the way.  Slowly but surely we made our way up the mountain.  And then, there was a first.  Sam got tired....And had to slow down.....And had to sit down.  Never before has this happened, I'm told.  But here's proof:


The Thinker

Obviously something wasn't right.  I'd spent most of the other runs with the OTMs as the caboose, just hoping to not get too far behind, or to at least keep within shouting distance of one of them.  And so to have Sam pulling up lame just wasn't right.  Sam then confessed to having had donated blood the day before, noble generosity to benefit your fellow man Karmic contribution blah blah blah.  I'm no Doctor, but I'm going to theorize donating blood before trail runs at 9,000 feet above sea level may have a small effect on one's endurance.  So we left him.  Every man for himself, isn't that what they say?  Amen.



First Light

Soon there was enough light to turn off the headlamps, and then Steve just about ran into a big, big fella on the trail.  Another trail, another moose, only this one was about twice the size of the one we ran into on Gobbler's Knob, and Steve was close enough to touch this one before we realized we almost ran into it.  We allowed this bullwinkle time to move off the path, and that's when Sam caught up...You can't keep that man down for long, and he powered through the blood-donating fatigue the rest of the day.  All for one!  One for all!  As long as you can keep up!

After working our way a bit higher up the mountain, the trail became less defined.  This was the first time any of us had been on this route, and so our limited knowledge of the trail came from various summitposts and hiking blogs, and so we approximated what the course to the top would be.  One would think that it would be easy to make your way to the top of a mountain that was right in front of you.  Alas, one would be wrong.  And so went our climb.  There were some vague directions on the easier way to the top, take your first left, then right, then stay right, then stay left...We followed what cairns we could see but ended up taking "The Robinson Variation" of the trail.  Robinson Variation sounds like it should be some lifesaving procedure, or a wrestling hold, or maybe even a dance move, not a trail route.  In this case, however, the Robinson Variation was simply an unmarked scramble up a scree face, in which no one's lives needed to be saved, no grappling moves took place, and there certainly was no dancing.

A Gift Found On The Trail

There was on extremely pleasant bonus from taking the Robinson Variation:  Wild Raspberries!  Quite a few of them....All over the mountain!  At the lower elevations they were relatively small berries, but in other places we scored some pretty big ones.  Little pockets of juicy, sweet, sweet joy that also leave you with tiny seedlings to pick at in your teeth for a few climbing steps.  We spent a while grabbing handfuls of berries, and then continued our march up the mountain.


As we continued climbing up the scree portion of The Robertson Variation, something very important came up.  We'd heard this word "Scree" many times in different conversations with other climbers/trail runners, seen the word "scree" on some climbing reports, and even used the word "scree" to describe some of our own trails (http://orangetrailmonkeys.blogspot.com/2012/08/quest-for-kings-2012.html).  Anyway, Steve had actually looked up the word "scree" in the dictionary, and essentially we've guessed right and have been using the word correctly.  Scree means: an accumulation of loose stones or rocky debris lying on a slope or at the base of a hill or cliff, aka Talus. And scree looks much like the photos of scree from the Quest For King's 2012 blog post that I've listed here.  (See more photos of scree here.)


A Huff Sighting...Feeding on Berries in the Scree

As we made our way further up the scree slope, we realized that time would not permit us to make it to the summit, and that we'd need to turn around soon in order to make it back to the base camp in time to get to work on time.  Steve made it much further up the mountain than the blood donor and I.  But we did have a tremendous view and were able to enjoy the sunrise on the trail.

Here comes the Sam

Tres Hombres, with some climbing still to do.

We made good time on the descent, and even got airborne a few times, and there's pictures to prove it.  We will be back in the future to conquer this peak.  Both of them.

White Men Can Jump

The trail, there and back again.  And we will be back again in order to get fully there.

Why facebook? Why Now?

Why Facebook?  Why now?

As a self-indulging contrarian, I’ve managed to steer clear of facebook for some time now.  It was a conscious effort to avoid blending in to the masses, a way to avoid being just like everyone else.  The facebook groundswell became a tidal wave while I was going to graduate school and working full-time, and so conveniently, I just didn’t have time for indulging in the trivial world of social networking.  Or at least being that busy afforded me the chance to avoid participation in the ménage-a-web.  I didn’t see the point, really.  If I truly was friends with someone, wouldn’t I see them already?  Wouldn’t I talk with them on the phone every now and again?  Or pay my social dues to them via a simultaneously clever and bland email once in a while, or the Christmas card family update?  I’ll forward them a link to a funny clip of a wipeout, an mpg of an unsuspecting baseball dad getting a line drive to the junk, or some adorable kitty videos.  Maybe I’ll send them a nice text on their birthday.  That, my friends, is interaction!

Well, against my better judgment, I have finally taken the plunge and added a facebook account to a growing list of redundant web-enabled participatory endeavors to which I am only half-heartedly involved (for instance, this blog).  It’s just another list in a long line of revolutionizing aps that I’m not totally enamored with, but for some reason feel obligated to take part in.  It’s an internalized and entirely imagined peer pressure to which I am succumbing, but I don’t believe that is even accurate, because no one has really asked me in some time why I don’t have a facebook account.  Maybe it’s the lack of people asking about my facebook that led me to believe I actually needed one.  To fill a non-void.  That’s more my style.

So why am I now a member?  Why now?

Maybe I’m now signing up to pre-emptively screen my kids’ future facebook accounts.  I know that soon they will be venturing on their own into this virtual maze.  And just like monitoring what youtube videos they watch, and what websites they can visit, what TV shows/movies they should or shouldn’t watch, I’m realizing that in order to properly understand what they are doing with their friendly online communications will require that I understand the inner-workings of this e-organism.   I need to take those baby steps first, fall down and scrape my knees on friend requests, likes and dislikes, twitter rants, seedy photo posts, etc., so that I can guide them through their introductory facebook stages and help in guiding them to avoid the evils that lurk.  That sounds very responsible of me, right?  But that’s not really my full motivation.  A noble side-benefit, but not entirely the real objective for joining.

I might be doing it for a social reason.  When I say “social reason,” this is not code for “looking up old flames.”  It is not to clandestinely check in on former acquaintances.  Actually, there was some facebook friction that took place recently with some extended family, and there could be some voyeuristic aspect of those conflicts that might appeal to some, but that’s not really my thing.  I’m sure I’ll have my opportunity in the future to cause this type of conflict, but I’ve missed out on that so far, and frankly, the probability of that type of conflict happening was one reason to avoid facebook thus far.  But I would like to think of myself as a social person, and that this is just another way for me to socially interact with friends and family.  The alleged social aspects of the program are a genuine motive for signing up for facebook, and part of me subscribes to this notion of a virtual community.  It takes an i-village, and I’m just a citizen here.

I must admit, I have been impressed (and distraught) by how pervasive facebook seems to be with everyone I know, and how quickly people respond to things.  I’m glad I’m able to check in with friends I haven’t seen or thought of in years.  It’s cute to see the mini-versions of people I grew up with in their childrens’ faces.  The fact that I have over 100 friends with fairly little effort on my part and within the first few days of signing up is indicative of how universally ubiquitous facebook is.   It has nothing to do with how compelling I am as a person, I’m pretty sure.

But I think the real reason I’m singing up now has to do with the creepy IPO video that facebook released and then promptly removed from their web arsenal.  That’s what appealed to me.  In advance of releasing their IPO today, May 18, 2012, facebook showcased a 30 minute commercial detailing their plans for global dominance.  This is a rather unconventional step for a company on the eve of their IPO, but facebook prides itself in doing things their own way, and they weren’t going to allow some trivial stepping stone like a once-in-a-lifetime-highest-IPO-valuation-ever opportunity to pass them by and do it like everyone else!  They were going to be different!  Because that’s what facebook is!  It’s different!  It’s not Myspace, or Pinterest, or Yahoo Social, or Youtube!  It’s all of those things and more!  So instead of meeting face to face with Wall Street investment bankers, instead of detailing their financials in person and jumping through the usual IPO hoops like everyone else does, they put their entitlement attitude on full display and just assumed everyone would play along because their grand move fit their unconventional corporate culture, and they wanted to run everyone else’s faces in their brand of counter-corporate-culture.  Bold move, Zuckerberg, bold move.

http://facebook.retailroadshow.com/  was the link to the IPO commercial, but it is no longer available.  It was up for a couple of days, and then removed entirely from the web universe.  Youtube doesn’t have it, or doesn’t even have an out-of-focus knock-off of it.   Daily Motion doesn’t have a copy.  Google Cache doesn’t even have it.  The commercial was that horrendous, and facebook didn’t realize this beforehand and quickly erased all memory and indication of it from the internets.  Business insider made a shot-by-shot summary of it, and that’s still around, http://www.businessinsider.com/facebooks-ipo-roadshow-heres-why-facebook-thinks-investors-should-buy-into-its-ipo-2012-5# .  But the still frame version doesn’t do it justice.  It looks accessible in this still-frame version, which is entirely opposite of what it felt like watching it.  If you thought The Social Network made the founder of facebook seem creepy, then you should have seen his glory in this gem of marketing mayhem that will be used in MBA courses for years and years to come as a perfect “what not to do”.  This self-produced commercial made the Zucks seem more like that guy DO from the Hale-Bopp cult, not the youngest billionaire ever.

In the video the young brain trust of facebook goes on to detail the relevance of the company, facebook’s role in every living being’s existence, how important and groundbreaking their social networking interface is, essentially how the world doesn’t function without them (which, I’m finding out now, may actually be true).  Shot with soft lighting, hypnotizing cadences, and soothing background music, it was incredibly captivating.  Like watching the Masters at Augusta.  It’s pretty, it’s pacifying, it deserves your respect, and everything else is so far below their superiority we are all just lucky to behold their greatness.  A tradition unlike any other, or at least this was bucking tradition like no one before them.

When the commercial concluded, I loved that it was creepy.  I enjoyed that it was arrogant.  I appreciated the fact that it was such a colossally horrendous promotion and thought that if they could screw up their Trillion dollar campaign, then that was something that I could not pass up!  I had to get in on that ride, and now’s my chance!  How could I enjoy the inevitable death rattle if I didn’t experience some of the life blood while it was beating at maximum heart rate?  And don’t get me wrong.  There are people who know how to use this medium and do great things, pass along worthwhile messages and knowledge.  There are people who go out of their way to do something bold and awe inspiring and incredible…and then there’s this facebook IPO version, which reaffirmed my preconceived notions of what this socially networked universe is like.  It is presented as an amazing and hyped up version of reality, accentuating greatness and de-emphasizing the clutter and unnecessary pop-ups.  But we all know that’s just a ruse, and that sooner rather than later we’ll be inundated by spam and junk mail and pop-ups and viruses…clutter.  E-clutter.  The show is not nearly as cool as they thought it was, and they clearly don’t realize this.  They obviously didn’t realize how condescending they were being, how empty their self-promotion was and how entirely anti-self-aware the whole facebook experience can be.  Both the Yin and the Yang.  And the video perfectly illustrated this aspect of facebook.

So, after all of that, I’m just like everyone else.  I’m a sheep who loves a train wreck, especially when those driving the train keep going faster.  They know what they’re doing, and they want you to come along for the ride.  Actually they’re asking you to take the wheel for a moment, they want you to participate in the fun, throwing some coal in their fire and all of your self-promotion along with it!  Vanity of Vanities!  I love me some vanity, so I signed up.  I’ve got a few years of virtual narcissism to catch up on.  And with its IPO roadshow, this bandwagon just bought billions more gigabytes of space for me and you other stragglers to jump on.  Like it or not.

A Miracle Drug

One of my favorite songs released in the past few years is Miracle Drug by U2. It’s impossible to not be swept up by Bono’s sincerity in songs like this; his commitment to the subject turns simple words and a tune into something bigger than they actually are. (You can listen to the song by selecting it in the music player here.)

I admit that I’m a sucker for a great love song. I usually prefer the ones with unconventional angles or alternative themes, but when there’s genuine emotion I quickly find some aspect of it to which I can relate. So this song immediately made sense to me, I think I even put it on a mix-tape for my wife as part of a Valentines’ Day gift. The song works incredibly well as a sort of love letter (see the lyrics below).

While Miracle Drug is a love song, it’s not about a romantic love, rather it is a tribute to Christopher Nolan. And not the Christopher Nolan who directed Batman Begins and The Dark Knight, but the cerebral palsy stricken Irish-born Christopher Nolan.

Christopher Nolan’s body was deprived of oxygen for two hours at birth, leaving him unable to control his muscle movements. His arms would randomly flail about, he was confined to a wheelchair that he couldn’t even push about, and most frustrating he could not speak. He communicated with glances of eyes or the tapping of feet. His family, undeterred, enrolled him in a regular school and actively participated in his daily development. His sister sang songs and acted out plays for him. His mother taught him the alphabet while doing chores around the house. She would keep a continual flow of conversation going whenever he was within earshot. His father read to him James Joyce, D.H. Lawrence, William Butler Yeats.

And then, the Miracle Drug. At age 11 Christy was given Lioresal, a pharmaceutical used to treat spastic muscle movement. It allowed him to gain some control over isolated muscles in his neck. His head was fashioned with a rubber-tipped “unicorn stick”, and he craned and struggled to use it to point to the letters on a typewriter. He spelled out his thoughts and feelings, even though a single word could take 15 minutes to write. With so much to say he eventually assembled these words into stories, poems, an autobiography, a play, even a novel. After being silent for so long, he was able to express his ideas about church visits, family field trips, even the stuffing of a turkey became something fabulous in his writing. Any experience could be converted into something lyrical and poetic.

“My mind is just like a spin dryer at full speed. My thoughts fly around my skull, while millions of beautiful words cascade down into my lap. Images gunfire across my consciousness and, while trying to discipline them, I jump in awe of the soul-filled beauty of the mind’s expanse.”

Christy’s family adjusted their lives so that he could attend Mount Temple Comprehensive School. The school is a progressive and multi-denominational school in Dublin whose curriculum is “based upon a Christian, civilized and caring tradition” and whose ethos is “All of us are different, all of us are equal.” Coincidentally, upon has arrival at Mount Temple the future members of U2 were just completing their studies there. His indelible impression inspired them to later write the song Miracle Drug.

At the age of 15 a collection of his poems was published, titled Dam-Burst of Dreams. It included poems he had written from as early as the age of 12, with themes of faith, hope, humor and determination. He later won the Whitbread prize for Under the Eye of the Clock, an autobiography told in the third person that detailed his life at Mount Temple. He adapted the novel into a play titled Torchlight And Lazer Beams. His only novel was The Banyan Tree, a family saga detailing the 80 year life of a single mother, paying particular homage to her spirit of individuality and the strength of her will.

Christy eventually became a vocal proponent of the disabled, eschewing pity and sentimentality about his physical predicament. He instead wanted to direct the conversation of the disabled to focus on lives filled with “life, laughter, vision, and nervous normality.” Instead of dwelling the inabilities, he wanted to encourage the accomplishments. “My body is strangled. But my body never strangled me.”

On February 20, 2009, while at work on a second novel, Christopher Nolan ingested food into his airway and passed away. He was 43. His family released a statement that read “oxygen deprivation returned to take the life it had damaged more than 40 years ago.” Despite the damage, it is a severe understatement to say that his life was an inspiration.

So listen to Miracle Drug again, but listen to it with a new perspective. The song is beautiful and genuine, and while it is very moving as a love song, it is moreso a fitting tribute to Christopher Nolan. The miracle isn't just in the medicine, it's in the fact the Christopher's family believed in what was inside of him before even he did.

Jon & Kate Plus Me! or The Play's The Thing

One aspect of the tabloid news cycle (and “THE BLOGOSHPERE” ) that has been particularly unforgiving is the recent media coverage of Jon & Kate. If for some reason you haven’t already been inundated with Jon & Kate stories, first, lucky you, and second, here’s a quick recap. Jon and Kate Gosselin have 8 kids, a set of twins and set of sextuplets. They are the stars of a reality TV series that airs on TLC, Jon & Kate Plus 8, in which cameras follow them around to observe the challenges of parenting of such a large brood. The parents review and comment on their daily joys, fights, accomplishments, challenges, and all the madness that comes with raising eight kids. The show is essentially an exhibition of a super-sized suburban existence.

Jon and Kate’s personal lives came under even greater scrutiny when details about their marital difficulties were leaked. We have since been updated daily on rumors and speculation as to the causes of their differences and the extent of their rift. Such invasive coverage is nothing new for tabloids, right? Jon & Kate had voluntarily surrendered their privacy when they signed on to do a television show, allowing cameras into their home and inviting viewers to observe their family. Their on-screen drama and off-screen lack of discretion seem to be customized for tabloidization, it’s the blessing and curse of being on TV and the public’s corresponding fascination with celebrity.

It is easy to write off this program and most Reality TV as vulgar, trite and voyeuristic. But why are there so many Reality TV shows and why do we watch them? Why has the story of Jon & Kate’s separation (and other similar “news” stories) transcended tabloid media and become the subject for more reputable media outlets? What attracts us to the gossip, and the conflict, and the fabricated authenticity? Why is our attention so easily captivated by the inconsequential actions of people we do not know, with whom we often disagree, and with whom we may have relatively little in common?

Cult of Celebrity certainly plays a factor, however unhealthy that may be. Many programs are entertaining, presented in a captivating pace and hypnotic cadence. The series are complete with attractive people, catchy music, and outrageous situational drama. We evaluate our own lives by comparing them with the lives of those onscreen. The characters are objectified and analyzed and their successes (and more often their failures) give us a close-up on all they do, be it good or bad. We watch the morality plays unfold and pronounce our judgments over water-cooler conversations. Our life-choices are validated by viewing the outrageous goings-on of the crazies on the telly…for instance, I might make some silly choices now and again, but I would never do things as petty as those kooky Kardashians! We cheer for the underdog, marvel at the amazing, and laugh at the unaware. However dysfunctional I may think my personal relationships are, I can tune in to MTV’s The Real World for a couple of minutes and quickly realize how happy and functional I actually am. Some shows involve a circus side-show element (Little People, Big World, LA Ink), an instructional theme (Flip This House, What Not To Wear), or a competition on which viewers may or may not actively have a role in determining the outcome (American Idol, So You Think You Can Dance).

The above listing of why we watch Reality TV is far from comprehensive. It’s exhausting but not exhaustive. But one of my favorite reasons that we watch Reality TV is that it is a modernized version of a Shakespearean play. You don’t agree? The lady doth protest too much, methinks. Certainly Reality TV is entirely void of Shakespeare’s poetry, its contribution to the English language doesn’t compare (see this clip from the lovely Whitney Houston or any clip of a mumbling Ozzy Osbourne), and I doubt most reality TV programs will stand the test of time. But there are plenty of similarities between Reality TV and Shakespeare’s works. Here’s the rub on a few of those:
The Bard is heralded as an unparalleled accounting of true human character. But Reality TV also gives us an unfiltered view of human character, and in many of the same ways. We observe characters in each genre pursuing love, fame, fortune and power and the lengths to which they will go to acquire these things. There are villains and heroes, confronted with decisions that will affect ultimately everyone in their respective worlds, for better or worse. The most memorable of Shakespeare’s characters are remembered for either their greatest accomplishments or their epic failures, and likewise the characters that are most remarkable from Reality TV are remarkable for either being shown at their honorable best or their unforgiving worst.
Both formats incorporate the colloquial of their time, presented in the prevalent medium of their respective era (Theatre vs. Television). Shakespeare gives us personalized monologues in the form of soliloquies; Reality TV gives us similar monologues in the form of interviews. Each format gives the audience glimpses into the inner thoughts of the principle players, giving context to the decisions they make, however great or small.

The storylines of the Bard and Reality TV have similarities as well. Do you fancy the teenage love story of Romeo and Juliet? These two star crossed adolescents of privilege attend celebratory balls and vie for love in a life of comfort that today is the equivalent of an episode of The Hills (minus the double suicide). The themes from Othello (infidelity, jealousy, suspicion) aren’t too dissimilar from the themes showcased on Cheaters (or the recent fascination with the previously mentioned Jon & Kate). Falstaff wooing the Merry Wives of Windsor is just a slightly more traditional version of the Bachelor (a cad attempting to woo one of a number of eligible and willing young women). There are attempts by Wife Swap husbands to Tame one another’s Shrews, alliances are made on Survivor to take out power players much like Brutus and Cassius conspiring to take out Julius Caesar, and there is enough cross-dressing in any number of Shakespeare’s plays (take your pick) to fill any one of Bravo’s Reality programs (again, take your pick). Shakespeare is everywhere.

So as Jon & Kate continue to play out their true-to-life Comedy of Errors, and as we viewers continue to laugh at and moralize upon and pronounce judgment from afar, let us not forget that truth is stranger than fiction and there is reality to be found in the invented story. Even without Shakespeare’s artistic prose and unmatched understanding of human nature, Reality TV does accurately portray elements of human nature. Even if these are half-truths, there’s much to be gleaned from the fabricated truths of faux-Reality-TV. Whether it’s on the small-screen or on the stage, The Play’s The Thing.