The Repercussions of a Day Out of the House

Osu and I stopped playing outside when it got colder than -30F.  Colder than that was perfect for splitting wood - and good exercise!  My cabin - Salcha, Alaska circa 2004

It's called cabin fever.  You usually hear it mentioned by people who live in areas where long periods of undesirable weather cause the less adventurous to stay indoors, sometimes for months at a time.

I've never been a person to let bad weather stop me from doing much of anything.  Growing up, I got used to the constant "Hounds of the Baskervilles" type weather that often occurred in the Oregon Valleys sandwiched between the Coast and Cascade Mountain Ranges.

What?  It's raining and foggy and cold and miserable in the valley?  To the mountains we go, in search of that powdery, wonderful snow!  At least that was always my attitude.  If the snowpack was bad or we were in a shoulder season, the Pacific Ocean, only an hour away, offered up plenty of it's own entertainment in the winter.  

Ever tried leaning into an 80mph onshore wind straight off the ocean?  It's kind of fun!  And, if you fall, you just roll back into the sand dunes.  Watching 40 foot waves bash the headlands while the rain comes down in sheets at 45 degree angles, the ocean looking angrier than Sam Kinison in his worst coke rage, can also be quite entertaining when sitting next to a warm fire in a hotel room or lounge with a large picture window framing the action.  

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As the years wore on, I began to notice that it was taking me longer and longer to recover from activities, no matter what they were.  Weightlifting in high school, a required class for football players, ruined many a basketball game and track meet for me.  I was just too damn tired and sore from lifting, and I bitched about it constantly.

Later, going on a day-long hike or mountain bike ride would leave me sore and hobbling for a week.  Surfing in a thick wetsuit would leave me exhausted with each paddle back out to the break.  Heck, just an hour surf in board shorts wore me out so bad I'd have to go home and lie down afterwards.  I looked like I was in great shape,  but this is when I really started suspecting something wasn't right.

Chuns Reef, North Shore, Oahu - 2000 - I'm f'ing exhausted here - and on a smallish summer day  

Or that I was just a big pussy.

It started getting really bad when I moved to Japan, and it continued to get worse in Alaska (first stint) and then Germany.  I spent my first season in Europe skiing with a local club, going on monthly trips to various places in the Alps.  I would often ski so hard the first day, it would ruin the rest of the trip for me.  But that's just how I am.  I can't do stuff half-assed, but I am learning.  Kind of.

I spent a few of those years using Jaegermeister to lube myself up each morning - just so I could put my ski boots on.  The fucking pain I endured just to ski - and it was worth it most of the time.  I just wish I would have discovered earlier to head out on my own, away from the 'club pack' that insisted on skiing shit snow and icy hard pack and stopping every two runs for beers.  Fuck that.  That's why you have a flask and power bars in your pack.  And the snow is a lot softer on my body off that groomed shit!

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The whole point of this post is to illustrate that I often do things knowing that I will pay for them later. If I didn't, my life story would be completely different and really, really boring.  

I've always lived my life with a type of an urgency that others seemed bothered by, wanting to do and experience as much as possible as fast as possible.  I'm not going to bust out any spiritual mumbo jumbo here, but I definitely think I know the reason for this now - and why photography came back into my life a little over a decade ago.  

Every single trip I have taken, every place I have been, every hike I have made - they have all involved unimaginable amounts of pain and fatigue, but I felt driven to keep going, going, going.  My wife came into my life and jumped right into these adventures with me.  She's seen me collapse hiking down a mountain from exhaustion and pain, because I didn't want to take the gondola down.  We didn't take the bus up to the Eagle's Nest, high above Berchtesgaden - we hiked up there, and back down (and got lost….)

This past Sunday, I knew I'd end up paying for our trip up to Hatcher Pass, but I wanted to go regardless.  Needed to go up there.  I start feeling disconnected from the world the longer I spend in this room, even with the modern marvel that is the internet.

It's no replacement for seeing, touching, smelling and interacting with the world in person.  I especially seem to have a connection with mountainous landscapes, often commenting to my wife how depressed I felt when driving home from adventures in the Alps to the farmlands of Germany where we lived.

Yes, just two hours in the car, getting out here and there to take a few pictures, put me down for two days.  I think I was able to keep a pleasant demeanor during the trip for the most part, but holy hell, I was miserable the entire time.  I had a lot of problems holding my camera steady, especially with the big 70-200mm lens on, and quickly took that off.  

But, I now have these to enjoy.  And that's why I'm so happy I got back into photography.  I may have felt like shit physically during an experience or adventure, but something in my subconscious is also enjoying the time I'm spending out there.  When I go back and look at my pictures, this is what I tap into.  I don't remember how bad my body felt or how tired I was, but I remember the smiles and gorgeous scenery and the time spent with my family and friends, the people we've met…….

And, I think it's time to lie back down.  I never know how I'll feel from hour to hour, but right now, it feels like that 1000 lb lead blanket is slowly wrapping back around me, the veil dropping from above……..

thanks for reading.