An Adventure of a Different Kind

Since I committed myself to titling my blog "101 Adventures with Sarah and Jarred," I've come to realize that I really do need to document the big adventures in our lives. I originally thought that perhaps Jarred would offer up a post every now and then, but since he refuses to use blog as a verb (as in "I can't listen to you update me on UPS Alumni right now because I'm blogging.") he's proven to be a weak blog partner. So, I must tell his story for him. The perk of doing this is I get to tell it from my point of view!

This past weekend I celebrated my 32nd birthday. My friends Meghan, Kieley and I decided last year after visiting a most impressive spa in Seattle, Umelina's, that we would make the spa visit an annual one. Umelina's is quite the spa "experience." I've not been to many spas, but at Umelina's they don't usher you in, give you the treatment and then kick you out, they usher you in, give you tea, a foot massage and then escort you back for whatever experience you paid the big bucks for. I opted for a facial this time. Once you are done, you have the opportunity to experience the best shower ever, not only does water come from all corners of the shower room, but the selection of fancy shampoos and bodywashes is extensive. Upon leaving the shower, you are invited to sit down with your friends in the tea room and drink more tea while a warm neckie type thing is wrapped around your neck. Finally, when ready, you can leave. This event took up the majority of our Sunday morning.

Because Meghan and I (and Kieley even though she may not want to admit it) are not REALLY girly girls, we thought it would be wise to balance out our girly spa experience with something a little rougher. Dylan, Meghan's brother and Kieley's fiance', called us two weeks ago to see if we wanted to go to Monster Truck Madness at the Tacoma Dome. Secretly, Kieley was hoping we would say no, but who could turn down rednecks and big loud trucks? To Dylan's delight I drove my big truck up to Seattle so we could drive to the Monster Truck Madness in style. If you've never been to a monster truck show, I highly recommend it. Not only is the people watching fabulous (lots of smoking, badly died blonde hair, wild children and beer bellies) but no matter who you are, by the end of the show, you too will want to drive a monster truck. I found myself rooting for the one girl driver and realizing that Gravedigger really is the best truck out there...plus Gravedigger is really a monster truck hearse! The best part is when all the locals come in for the demolition derby. I think demolition derbies are for people too poor to build a monster truck. Needless to say, my love for big trucks is rekindled.

While I was enjoying the traditional American Redneck pass time, Jarred had opted to stay home to climb Mt. Hood and kayak with some friends. From here on out, I will now write as if I'm Jarred (oh, Jarred, the bane of not blogging yourself).

Although the monster truck show was tempting, I was looking forward to a nice weekend alone. A weekend where I could kayak until my hands were numb and solo Leuthold's Couloir on Mt. Hood, a feat I'd previously tackled, but not alone. I believe soloing is not only a macho experience but also a true test of mental "game." I looked forward to a weekend of non-stop action, which is what my life is all about.

I rose at 3 am to a clear cold sky. As I rocked out to AC/DC on the way up to Hood, I thought of the summit of Hood and kicking steps up the small couloir. I did not think of the danger of climbing alone or the fact that Mt. Hood is constantly changing. I practically ran up the lower part of the mountain, while still rocking out to AC/DC on my I-Pod. I was so impressed with my ability to be so active although I'd not trained for my climb, climbed at all in the past year, OR exercised one bit this past week. If I'd taken the time, I'd have thrown off my shirt and beat my fists against my chest while yelling,"I am an infallible man! Being a man is what life is all about, we men, have goals that we men achieve!" But I was too busy running and singing "I want a mistress for Christmas."

As I traversed across to Leuthold's Coulior, I took note of the sheer ice under my crampons. A fleeting thought crept into my mind that the start of the route seemed icier than normal, but I pushed this thought out of my mind because I was a man and had a goal. I soon found myself on a fairly steep slope but simply flexed my calves and dug my crampons into the ice while engaging the loins of strength from within as I swung my axe and tool into the blue glacial ice. Suddenly I let out a whelp, similar to the one a man excretes when being hit in the balls. Off I went down the slope.

While my speed increased I didn't have time to wonder whether ice climbing alone was a good idea for me. I was too busy trying to stop myself before reaching the bottom of the glacier thousands of feet below. Despite using my axe and tools, I wasn't slowing down. Finally the ice became a hard snow and I managed to stop myself. I quickly checked to see if all appendages worked. Finding that they did, I limped my bruised ankle, loose fingernails, chipped ring finger and ego back down the mountain to the comfort of my truck and the emergency room where the nurse recognized me after asking, "Didn't you break your clavicle in a bike accident this fall?" Grumpy, I drove home to nurse my sore body and ego and to ponder whether I needed to change my decision making processes.