Finding new life in Baghdad by the Bay

Epic

My original title for this post was going to be something along the lines of "Mt. Whitney Massacre", but I thought that was a bit dramatic.  My former roommate Jim and I assembled a group of 12 friends to climb the 14,494 ft peak of Mt. Whitney, the highest in the continental U.S.  We lost one person before the trip even began due to a root canal gone bad.  At 12,000 ft we lost another six, leaving only five to actually reach the top.  I was one of those five, but what a journey it was!  When I crawled into my sleeping bag on Saturday, I seriously wondered if I was going to make it through the night.  Thankfully I did, and am glad to be able to share the story.

The story begins in San Jose, where I met my good friend Yi.  Last week Thursday I spent the night at his house after sharing a meal of Vietnamese Pho with my good friend Mike - the exact same meal I had prior to my first trip to Cambodia back in February!  Friday morning came quickly, and soon enough Yi, his friend Yao, and I were on the road towards Lone Pine.  The drive was long but scenic, taking us through Yosemite National Park.  Once at our destination, the various parties in our group arrived piecemeal - one group from Florida via Reno, another from the Bay Area via Burbank, and yet another from Orange County.  Our home for the night was the Dow Villa, an authentic old western hotel that looked like it came straight off the set of a John Wayne film. (Pictures of John Wayne were everywhere)

Bright sun and clear blue skies greeted us Saturday morning.  After a hearty breakfast of carbohydrates, we packed in the cars and motored to the trail head.  From the valley floor we climbed over 5,000 feet to the parking lot where we gathered up our gear, weighed our packs, and then headed up the mountain.  (mine weighed in a about 42 lbs)  Our first day would be a challenge in itself - 6 miles of trail, ascending 3,500 ft to the Trail Camp.  We'd be spending the night at 12,000 feet, where cold and altitude sickness presented very real dangers.

Our group pushed off at about 10am, slowly working our way up through the pine trees and seemingly endless switchbacks.  Close to noon we stopped at a crystal clear lake to fill up our water bottles and chat with a bunch of Korean men fishing for trout.  Soon after we hit a campground at 10,600 ft where we stopped to eat lunch.  My meal was standard wilderness fare - turkey jerky, trail mix, and the all-time favorite, Cliff bars. 

By this time some members of our group were starting to feel the effects of altitude, and we began to drift apart.  Before I knew it, I was all alone, pushing with all I had to reach Trail Camp and secure tent sites for everyone.  My mind switched to auto-pilot as I focused my energy on the immediate goal.  I honestly can't even remember what I was thinking about for several hours, except for how utterly exhausted I felt.  Around 3pm a smile crossed my lips as I saw the slanted roof of the once-functional solar toilets - I knew I'd made it to camp.

After hooking up my MSR filter and pumping two liters of fresh water, I walked around, scoping out the best location for our tents.  To my delight I came across a series of 5 open spots next to a very kind man who was more than happy to share the space.  While I set up my own tent, my new neighbor shared tips from his experience of reaching the summit that day.  He described a tiring push to a cold (36 degrees), blustery summit.  I felt the growing weariness in my bones and nausea in my stomach and sensed a pang of fear - what if I couldn't make it?

By 5pm all members of our group had arrived, and already we were counting causalities.  As expected, everyone was exhausted, but two people felt quite ill and were already considering abandoning the summit attempt.  My own stomach felt quite queasy, and my bowels were about ready to explode.  To my dismay I was about to experience what is commonly known as altitude-induced diarrhea.  The solar toilets were no longer in use; instead we had to use the new "Wag-Bag" system, which essentially involved pooping in a bag and then carrying it back down the mountain.  Yee-haw!

Although I wasn't hungry at all, I knew I had to eat.  I set up my MSR Dragonfly stove and quickly boiled water to heat up my freeze-dried Mexican rice and beans.  After pouring the hot water into the foil pouch, I stirred things up, then let it set for about 10 minutes.  What emerged was in all honesty not such a bad meal.  Then again, maybe it just felt good to eat something hot.  In any case, I wolfed down my meal and started preparing for bed.

As dark approached, more and more members of our group reported feeling ill.  One person started throwing up.  As the sun disappeared behind the mountains my own stomach was churning.  Slipping into my sleeping bag, I felt the contents of my stomach slowly crawl up my throat.  Heart pounding in my chest, I gasped for oxygen in the thin air.  Stillness set over the camp, and a primal fear began to take over.  I wanted to get out of my tent and run, but knew I had nowhere to go.  I was stuck there for the night!

Getting a grip on myself, I closed my eyes and thought of the book I was reading by Corrie Ten Boom, "Tramp for the Lord".  On any number of occasions she faced the impossible, trusting in God alone to come through and provide.  She was never disappointed.  (Or at least hasn't been so far - I haven't finished the book)  I thought of the incredible suffering she endured, and the many lessons God lovingly taught her through them.  I pondered my own situation, and asked the Lord a simple question, "Father, what do you want me to learn from this?"  Quietly I began to pray, then sing songs of praise.  Slowly I drifted off to sleep, and actually ended up staying warm (at least until 4am!) and getting a good night's sleep. 

At one point I opened my eyes and noticed the top of my tent had ever-so-slightly changed color.  Could it be?  Yes!  The sun was rising!  I'd made it through the  night!  Knowing I had lost a lot of water during the night, I got up and took my half-frozen water filter down to the lake for a refill.   I felt nauseated, but quickly felt much better after forcing down a liter of crystal-clear mountain spring water.  That was followed by a semi-frozen Cliff bar; again, not easy to ingest, but so beneficial once it was finished. 

Unfortunately the rest of our group hadn't fared so well; six members were packing their gear, heading down the mountain and calling it quits.  I was sad to see them go, but completely understood.  There are times to press on, and then there are times to realistically look at a situation and say, "We gave it a good try.  We'll get there next time". 

By 8am our remaining group of five stuffed our day packs and hit the trail.  Our first challenge was probably the most infamous - the dreaded 99 switchbacks.  I'm not sure if the number is actually 99 (someone said it was actually 97), but thankfully I wasn't really paying attention.  We had split into two groups; a slower one of three, and myself and one other faster guy.  My companion and I chatted as we basked in the sun and slowly worked our way up.  Mentally I slipped into some kind of alternate universe where time had lost all meaning.  We both remarked how incredibly good we felt, and declared our confidence in reaching the top around noon.  During moments of silence my mind drifted towards Cambodia - what would it be like?  Would I learn the language?  Would I have lots of embarrassing cultural blunders?  What would God do with my life there? 

Around 10am we inched up the final grueling switchback of the 99 and gasped at the beauty unfolded before our eyes.  We had reached the famous Trail Crest, joining several other hikers in soaking up the breathtaking view to our West.  A sheer cliff, the valley floor with shimmering blue-green lakes, jagged rocks and more mountains delighted our eyes.  We stopped for an extended break to take pictures, rehydrate, and have a snack.

The next two hours would unfold our final push to the summit of Whitney.  About two-thirds of the way there my partner Brian really started to slow down.  Strangely enough, I actually seemed to feel better the higher we climbed.  Brian had brought along a portable GPS unit, and at 14,250 feet he decided to take an extended rest while I pressed on.  For some reason we both thought we had another mile to go, while in reality the top was only minutes away.  I nearly leapt out of my shoes when a man coming down said I only had 4-5 minutes to go!

Before I knew it, there I was - the top of Mt. Whitney.  I couldn't believe it; I'd actually made it!  And what a day it had turned out to be, with crystal clear skies, mild temperatures, and absolutely no wind.  That morning I had worried about being too cold; now I was stripping off layers and zipping open my windbreaker.  As I gazed out into the open expanse below, I literally felt as though I were on top of the world.  Who knows, it could also have been altitude-induced delirium!

I arrived at 11:45am.  Brian showed up about 15 minutes later.  The remaining three were there by 12:30pm - right on schedule.  We stopped to rest, eat lunch, and take the required poses at the summit.  We decided to split up for the descent back to camp; I would travel first, and the remaining four would follow shortly after.  By now I had consumed most of my 2 liters of water, and worried about dehydration.  About 20 minutes after setting out, my head began to throb, and I once again felt slightly nauseated.  I started to pray - "Lord, you've taken me this far, and I know you'll get me home".  The headache seemed to subside and I moved on.

By the time I reached my tent the headache had come on full-blast.  I wanted to lay down, but instinctively knew it would be a bad idea.  Instead I grabbed my water pump and refilled my Nalgene bottles, forcing myself to once again down a liter.  About 10 minutes passed and I once again felt great.  Shortly thereafter the remainder of our party walked into camp.  Everyone looked exhausted, and Brian in particular was really suffering from a bad headache. 

Yi and Yao laid down to take a short nap.  Brian and Jim quickly followed, and I grew concerned that inertia would set in and we'd end up hiking in the dark.  Fortunately everyone got up and packed their gear; Brian still wasn't feeling well, but knew he had no choice but to start heading down the mountain.  We decided once again to split up; Brian and I would go first, followed by Yi, Yao, and Jim.

Brian was really hurting now, and we moved down the mountain at a glacial pace.  Earlier I had prayed for Brian, asking the Lord to provide whatever he needed to make it.  As we stopped to rest yet again, I began to grow discouraged and a bit scared.  Just then, the Lord sent an angel in the form of an older man passing us on the trail.  He immediately noticed Brian's condition and asked if he had any energy gels or electrolyte powder.  Unfortunately I had given my last dose away hours earlier.  Taking out his back, this man gave Brian a Gu gel and some electrolyte solution.  It wasn't easy for him to get down, but once ingested Brian almost immediately felt better.  I let him lead, and soon were were chatting away as we made our descent.  Not long after the remainder of our party caught up to us, and we hurried as fast as our legs could carry us back to the trail head.

By 7:30pm it was pitch-black, so we donned our headlamps and continued on, slower this time as our footing grew less sure.  After a few stumbles and slips, we saw the lights of a parking lot - we'd made it back!  Stuffing our packs and weary bodies into the vehicles, we headed back down to Lone Pine, where I celebrated by inhaling two all-beef patties special sauce lettuce cheese lettuce onions pickles on a sesame-seed bun.  Mmm good!  Back in our room at the Dow the air was thick with the musty smell of stinky feet, but none of us cared.  I think we were all asleep before our heads hit the pillows.

The drive home was peaceful and serene.  Yi, Yao, and I paid a visit to the Manzanar National Monument, a museum established on the ground where thousands of Japanese Americans were interred during WWII.  We then headed back through Yosemite National Park, where Yi and I stopped to take a dip in Tenaya lake - cold but refreshing!  Then it was on to San Francisco, where Yi and Yao treated me to dinner at a Taiwanese restaurant.  A little advice - when eating with Chinese friends at a Chinese restaurant, let them order, eat whatever is on the table, and ask questions later!  I had, among other things, shredded jellyfish and cow's stomach.

So there you have it - my epic journey to the top of Mt. Whitney.  Considering what it took to get me there, I can't begin to imagine just how people do something like Everest!  Still, it was a great experience despite the difficulties; I think I learned a lot about myself, more about the Lord, and perhaps got a picture of the challenges I'll face in Cambodia. 

I'm on top of the world!

Broadband ethics

Question for everyone -

My iBook has a built-in wireless Internet card which automatically connects when it detects an open network.  A couple weeks ago I was using my laptop upstairs at home when suddenly I was connected to the Internet!  There is nothing to identify who the network belongs to; it just has a generic name "linksys".

Back in San Francisco, people all over the city (some individuals, others businesses) deliberately set up free wireless Internet "hot-spots".  Others, like at San Francisco airport, require you to pay a fee.  If someone doesn't want you using their connection, they require a password to log on.  So from what I've gathered, if you connect to a wireless Internet connection in San Francisco, and it doesn't require a password, it's ok to use.

Back here in Pella, I find myself wondering if the same rules apply.  Is the connection I can use at home really meant to be public, or was someone just completely clueless (not unlikely) about security issues and inadvertently set up their network without a log-in required?

I have no idea, and would feel quite silly walking around, knocking on people's doors asking.  Is using an unknown wireless Internet connection stealing, or if the network is "open" does this constitute standard, acceptable practice?  I really don't want to take something that doesn't belong to me, or that I should be paying for.

Words to Remember

I recently received a pamphlet from RBC Ministries entitled "Words to Remember" by Mart De Haan.  It contained 21 nuggets of Godly wisdom, several of which I thought I'd share:

1.  WHAT WE HAVE AT THE CENTER OF OUR ATTENTION IS WHAT HAS US:  King David is both a positive and negative example of this principle. Whatever he gave his attention to would either "make him" or "break him."

2.  LIVE FOR WHAT YOU WILL NOT REGRET WHEN  YOU DIE:  "What profit is it to a man if he gains the whole world, and loses his own soul?"  (Matthew 16:26)

3.  THE POOREST OF ALL ARE THOSE WHO DON'T KNOW THE ONE TO THANK FOR THE SUNSHINE OR TO TRUST IN THE DARK:  Isaiah said it with an edge.  Even the ox knows its master, and the donkey knows where to find its food (ISAIAH 1:3).  Those who don't know their God are poorer than both of them. 

4.  ATTACK PROBLEMS, NOT PEOPLE:  I get the two confused until I remember the words and spirit of Christ (MATTHEW 5:43-44)

5.  FOR SOME TROUBLES, GOD HAS NOT GIVEN US ANSWERS - HE'S GIVEN US HIS SON:  That was His gift to the thief on the cross (LUKE 23:43) and to us.  (My personal favorite)

6.  WE ARE SAVED BY GOD'S MERCY, NOT BY OUR MERIT; BY CHRIST'S DYING, NOT BY OUR DOING; BY TRUSTING, NOT BY TRYING:  If it came down to having one or the other, we'd probably do well to trade all of our assets and education for this one thought (EPHESIANS 2:8-9). 

7.  WORSE THAN BLINDNESS IS SIGHT WITHOUT VISION. -  Helen Keller:  This reminds me of Jesus, who said, "Take heed that the light which is in you is not darkness" (LUKE 11:35).

8.  WISE ARE THOSE WHO LOOK AT OTHERS WITH THE SAME GENEROSITY THEY OFFER THEMSELVES, AND WHO LOOK AT THEMSELVES WITH THE SAME CRITICAL EYE THEY HAVE FOR OTHERS:  Yet look what we do!  We blame others to get the attention off ourselves (MATTHEW 7:3).

My dad

I've often talked about the influence my father had on my issues as a child and young adult.  As a result, it might be easy to read this blog and think I didn't like my dad, or thought he was a horrible person.  Quite the contrary!  As I've grown over the years, and particularly as I've matured greatly over the last two and a half, I've come to have a deep appreciation for my dad.  I used to think we had nothing in common; now we share many of the same interests.  To my mom's dismay, we also think very much alike.  Most of the time I feel that's a good thing!

Of course I don't have to try hard to remember painful memories of my dad.  However, I never thought much until recently of what it must have been like to be in my father's shoes.  Looking back I can see moments when he tried to share the things he loved with his son, and in returned received a cold shoulder.  I also recall his attempts to nudge me towards manhood, efforts I actively resisted.  It was so much easier and fun to stay a boy forever, running to mom when I wanted something or got in over my head. 

When I put myself in dad's shoes, I bring myself to tears.  I was not an honest child.  My parents didn't have much money, and I wasn't really interested in earning my own, so I stole whenever I could.  I stole from my mom's purse, from my dad's dresser, from my brother's drawer, from change jars, even from my own little savings box!  Anything with "In God We Trust" printed on it was fair game, and the only time my conscience bothered me was when I got caught. 

My dad helped me get my first job, delivering the Oskaloosa Shopper once a week.  I thought it was "too much work", even though my dad helped me fold all the papers and deliver half of them!  One day, sick of my "slavery", I buried my papers in the garden, thinking they would decompose.  (It didn't work)  Later, I got my older brother's Des Moines Register paper route.  With it came new responsibilities, chief of which was collecting money from customers.  This was a complete disaster; the second money went into my collection bag I went up to the record store where most of it was spent.  I consistently came up short for my monthly bills, and every time my dad would silently bail me out. 

I complained every chance I got.  My friends' parents just gave them what they wanted; why should I have to work? 

When I put myself in my dad's shoes, it hurts.  I try to imagine having my own son, having him lie right to my face, or constantly complain, and it brings tears to my eyes.  When we're kids it's easy to forget our parents are made of flesh and blood, too.  Emotionally immature, I only thought about one person - me.  My dad just seemed to get in the way of what I wanted most of the time.  Later we would drift apart, and I spent over 10 years actively hating him, placing the blame for life's problems squarely on his shoulders.

So, I've grown up a bit and realized I've easily caused as much pain as I've received.  Thankfully things don't have to stay that way.  I know my dad has forgiven me, but most of all I know the Lord has too, thanks to the blood of Jesus.  I can look back and learn a lesson without having to carry the burden.

Ethanol is silly

Sorry Iowa folks - when it comes to Ethanol, the politicians are trying to sell a Cadillac that's really just a Yugo with a paint job.  I'm not a scientist, but even my relatively uneducated mind can come up with several reasons why ethanol production as it exists today is nothing more than a mirage:

1.  The plants producing ethanol use energy.  Guess what kind of energy it is?  If you said "fossil fuel", give yourself a pat on the back!

2.  No distribution system for ethanol currently exists (read: pipelines).  So, when that ethanol comes dripping out of your local plant, guess how it gets to market?  That's right - trucks!  What type of fuel do trucks use?  Yuppers, good old fossil fuel.

3.  Corn needs nutrients to grow.  In the process of growing, it strips the soil of nitrogen.  Nitrogen is currently very expensive.  If it gets into the water supply, it is also a pollutant.  This spring, many farmers couldn't plant their crops because no one would loan them the money to buy nitrogen.  Oops.

4.  I know people don't want to hear this, but farming as it exists today is an environmental disaster.  Iowa consistently ranks almost last in the U.S. for water quality due to agricultural runoff.  Lakes and streams are filled with pesticides, herbicides, and many look like chocolate milk from all the soil erosion.  To produce enough ethanol to have any serious impact on oil dependency, we'd have to grow a LOT of corn.  Do we really want MORE land torn apart to grown corn, then sit barren for over half the year?

5.  You're paying for E85 already, even if you've never purchased a drop.  Why?  Subsidies!  Yes, your tax dollars are propping up this industry, surprise, surprise.  The "lower" cost of E85 is artificially kept lower thanks to money out of our collective pockets.

6.  Fuel economy with E85 is miserable.  Consumer Reports recently tested a Chevy Tahoe with E85 and averaged 10 mpg, the lowest of any vehicle they've tested in many years.  Ethanol distracts from the real issue: the design, marketing, and sale of vehicles which are inherently inefficient and far exceed the space and power needs of the vast majority of consumers. 

So there's my 2 cents (or twenty; you decide!) on ethanol.  I think the whole thing is just silly, and the pandering of gubernatorial candidates here in Iowa to the farming community disingenuous and short-sighted. 

The 200,000 mile club

On a trip to Des Moines last month I glanced down at the odometer and noticed I'd just hit a landmark - 200,000 miles.  Up to that point I'd never had a car make it past about 140,000.  (Although, in all fairness I'm sure my 1989 Honda Civic hatchback would have; it just wouldn't pass smog in California so I had to get rid of it)

My car is a bit of an odd-ball - a 1989 Toyota Corolla SR5 All-Trac wagon.  Built in an era when Subarus were still weird, and with only 100 horsepower, it never sold well and was dropped when the Corolla was redesigned in 1993.  However, among owners today the little All-Trac is legendary for its reliability, and mine runs better at 200,000 miles than cars I've driven with less than 100,000.  On the highway I routinely get over 30 mpg, and in the snow my little wagon really comes into its own! 

So far I've only had one problem - a switch in the starter needed to be replaced, and the parts cost all of about $9.  Not bad for a 17+ year-old car!