the FIVE-STAR PROJECT [1].

# 1   |   J and I, Ansel Adams Wilderness, California [2008]
Canon G2, 1/50 sec, f4.5, ISO 50, 18.8mm (90mm @ 35mm equivalent)

Ugh, the days when I dyed my hair… But I still pack and wear those same glasses when I'm out in the backcountry, and yeah, they're kind of dorky. This was our first backpacking trip in the Sierras, when J was all of eight years old. I was a terrible father, planning two ambitious trips back-to-back for us. First, we were supposed to hike into Thousand Island Lake outside Mammoth for an overnight, then hike back out and drive a hundred miles south to hike over Kearsarge Pass for another couple of nights. Probably about thirty miles of hiking between the two, and five thousand feet of elevation gain. And yeah, J was all of eight years old.

We didn't make it to Thousand Island Lake that night (we did, though, make it to Kearsarge the next), falling a couple miles short after I carried his backpack partway along the PCT, heading west from the trailhead at Agnew Meadows toward the Ritter Range, far off in the distance. At the end of I-forget-how-many-hours of hiking, the sun sinking lower above Banner Peak, we pulled off the trail at Badger Lake, where I thumped my pack on the ground and started setting up camp. J ran off with a newfound energy, climbing up the rock wall at the southern end of the lake, still in sight. We ate dinner. It was quiet. It was so quiet, and I was already falling in love with the Sierra (we have returned every single summer since to spend a week backpacking throughout Kings Canyon). I took out my contacts and put on those dorky glasses. J ran around some more above the lake, amongst beautiful lodgepole pines and granite, surrounded by a sky that turned shades of pink and purple. At some point, we set the little camera on self-timer, clambered up on this rock, and smiled. Tired. I put my arm around J, his little right cheek smudged with dirt, me in flip flops. Proper.

Five stars.

ski [august].

Mount Rainier National Park (J made it up to Camp Muir at 10,000' for the first time!). Check.

freeze frame.

: )

I came home from work one day not too long ago to find one of Julian's many Calvin and Hobbes books (umm, mostly handed down from me) on the kitchen counter. There was a Post-It note to turn to page 91. So I did.


And this is what I found ~

Umm, wow. I about lost it (though I am a sucker for Calvin and Hobbes).


But I need to remember this more as I work furiously at music and remodeling and this and that. Remember that there's a kid that calls me dad that sometimes just wants to play.


Remember that.


Soon enough he'll be all grown up and not want to play with his dad.


Remember that.


The sheetrock can wait.


That idea on the piano can wait.


That email can wait.


Remember that.

the cube.

So while my parents were in from out of town over Christmas this year, Julian whipped out the instructions he drew up for me to teach me how to solve the Rubik's Cube to show Grandma. They were drawn up completely from his memory which I thought was fairly impressive. Since I have not dedicated the time to do it, I can only get through Step 2 (solving the green cross and corners–basically solving one side) by memory and then have to resort to this cheat sheet to solve the middle row and the last side.

But one day–thanks to these handy instructions–I will, too, be able to solve the Cube. Just probably not nearly as quickly as my nine-year old kid (who can also solve the 4x4 and 5x5 cubes).

banter.

Springing Into the Air, originally uploaded by superhiker (uh, that would be my kid)

OK, so for a little light-hearted banter because a) I am pretty flippin' impressed and b) it is pretty flippin' hilarious (at least to me) ...

So, Saturday morning we woke up and before even getting out of bed I was showing J how to use the brush to mask things in Photoshop. It was at about the five minute mark he gave me the ol' 'OK, Dad, I get it' and went off to his room where he proceeded to spend a good bit of the weekend surprising me with his imagination, creativity, apparent Photoshop wizardry (I've known supposed retouching pros who cannot composite this well) and downright resourcefulness with a slew of images he quickly posted to his Flickr stream.

This one was one of the most impressive (or certainly one of the most amusing). I must say I took no part in this – this is all him. I don't even know where he found the shot of him pogo-sticking, but apparently one exists; or where he got the idea for this composite. I about rolled off the kitchen chair when I saw the thumbnail.

Props to my kid.

autumn.

Fall is the time when birds fly south for the winter. I like it in fall when I climb the biggest tree at my house and I watch the birds fly. Another word for fall is autumn. The weather changes in autumn when it gets the perfect temperature outside. The French word for autumn is l'automne. In autumn, my family does a lot of raking leaves. I can make things out of leaves like forts and piles of leaves and jump in the pile of leaves. I can wear yellow, red, or orange clothes and climb a tree and stay still. It's like your [sic] camouflaged in the tree and nobody can see you. It's like your [sic] invisible. The trees look prettier that [sic] before. That's why I like autumn!

~ Julian, age 8 (I found this little story in his folder today)

new heights.

As I had promised him earlier this summer, I took Julian out to Mt. Rainier National Park so that he could climb his first real mountain and stand on a real summit. I thought Pinnacle Peak was a perfect climb for just that - pretty quick, plenty of elevation, a good bit of 3rd and (some) 4th class scrambling, lots of air and a great view. We made it to the Pinnacle–Plumber saddle in short order, then took to the roughly-tread climbers' path that leads under the south face of Pinnacle before I started picking our way up, trying to remember the route from a vague recollection of my first solo climb years past. I recalled on the way up the exhilaration I found at the top from finding my own way up, then of standing on top with the place to myself. I think at that point I had only climbed two other peaks - Adams and Baker.

But this was J's day, and for good right. We made short work of the south face scramble and at one point were able to peer down the sheer, overhanging west face to the switchbacking saddle trail far below. We stopped just before the crux to let a guy on his way down pass (for what seemed to be for his relief since he seemed a bit hesitant and nervous, but also for ours to keep from getting hit by any rocks he might accidentally kick down). Once he was passed and we had bid him a safe journey, Julian led the 'crux' pitch which was about a 50' class 4 scramble that had a bit of air and excitement to it.

It didn't faze him - nor had the peering over the sheer dropoffs. This kid has no fear of heights. Past the crux, it's a quick peel to the summit where we relaxed after I congratulated him with hugs and kisses for having gotten his first summit. I couldn't have been more proud - here was my kid totally comfortable on the craggy summit of a peak with 1700' of air beneath us and he just seemed in his element.

From an early climb on Mt. Constance where I was with two other guys, one of which was having a bit of a freakout negotiating the downclimb of a gully from the Cat's Ears to our high camp and I stood in the moment there completely relaxed and feeling almost more at home than I do literally being at home, I realized the mountains are where I belong. Where I feel completely relaxed. There is no other place that brings me more peace. And it was just f'in cool to see my own kid feeling and acting the same way I know I do when I'm surrounded by peaks in every direction with a view to everywhere and among boulders and ice and a harshness and brutality but beauty that cannot be found anywhere else.

This was a good day. Sad to see summer go, but he'll have two memories that I wanted him to have and now to hold with him indefinitely ~

• Backpacking 26 miles in 4 days, up to an elevation of 11, 823' up and over Kearsarge Pass in the middle of granite peaks as far as our eyes could see in Kings Canyon
• Climbing his first real summit – not just a walk-up, something he had to work a little for and really get the satisfaction of having done it

No matter if he doesn't, though. I will.