My Fear Factors.

My Fear Factors.

I’ve been visiting Death Valley for about a quarter century. (That makes me sound old!) This BIGLY National Park is one of my Happy Places.

in that time , I’ve discovered about a dozen “Go To” hikes. 

This year I noticed a new sensation in a “repeat Canyon” hike. The amble features an eighteen foot marble like unclimbable (for me) chute.  There’s an alternative  route in place though. It requires dealing with a slick eight foot chimney. When I was younger, I’d take a deep breath and scramble up the obstruction. It never felt right, especially on the return descent. This time, I paused while standing atop a stack of jumbled  rocks.Hmmm. Did this chimney grow? Wasn’t their more hand and foot holds? Where did that slight overhang come from? Thoughts of what could happen made me hesitate. I gingerly stepped off the ramp and retreated down canyon. The sensation was fear.

It’s not just the thought of taking a tumble. I’m more concerned about “What Ifs?” I’ve become overly cautious.

When I provisioned up for my Death Valley National Park three plus weeks desert wander, I sort of went overboard.

I’m carrying enough water to fill a kiddy pool. 

My food supply is equal to a Safeway Supermarket. 

I brought enough “Cutie” oranges to keep scurvy at bay for the entire US Navy. 

I could host a Sigma Phi Nada fraternity party with all the IPAs in stowage.

Starbucks offered to buy back my horde of Pike Place blend  Apparently I cornered the market.

I’ve downloaded and paid for the premium Gaia GPS app. Maybe I won’t get lost as often. 

My storage unit is stuffed with enough warm clothes for a Ernest Shackleton South Pole expedition. Mind you, I’m spending my time in the desert.

I precariously perched extra gallons of gasoline  onto Sanctuary Too for a long sought journey into Racetrack Playa. The National Park Service issues dire warnings about the road in. “Beasts and Monsters lie beyond this sign. Be aware and be prepared.” Hence all the extra gas. Honestly, it’s a jiggle-your-love-handles washboard route. (A reminder for me to go on a diet). My chain smoking slacker neighbor at the end-of-the-road dry camp arrived in a Kia hatchback sedan. So much for beasts and monsters. (But I had more food, beer and stuff than he had!)

So I’m left to ponder. Why did I become a wimp about things I barely thought of when I was younger? I survived then, why wouldn’t I do the same now?

My lame excuses are age and experience. I’ve been living this wandering wondering lifestyle since I was 17. While others were getting married, raising a family, working to keep it all together and pursuing the myth of the American Dream, I was “out there” hiking, car-camping, bicycle touring and backpacking. I’ve gotten lost, gone hungry, understand thirst, been injured and had to limp out to an ER. I’ve frozen my tuchas off by not carrying enough wool, fleece or down clothes. Worst of all, I’ve run out of IPAs. HORRORS! I’ve experienced all of these events more than once. To use the cliche, “been there, done that.” I didn’t find those moments enjoyable back then. Why should I now? 

But Jeff! What about challenges? What about pushing your mental and physical limits to the extreme? To this, I answer. Considering I was bred to be a tailor or merchant, I’m OK with my resume. (Remember, I was Northern CO’s first Jewish professional firefighter). I’ve sidestepped the Grim Reaper more than one person has the right to.  I have nothing to prove. 

BTW. “Fall Canyon” is the hike I retreated from. The name says it all.

Last Photos: Sometimes  Death Valley hikes require a rope and a ladder. I examined both of them. Neither would have met OSHA standards. I used the ladder. YIKES! 

Be careful out there. I’m sure Aron Ralston wasn’t planning on cutting off his arm when he ventured into “Blue John” Canyon.

https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2019/08/at-least-i-didnt-have-to-cut-off.html

Jeff