The mountains of Piemonte, Italy

“The ibex of Northern Italy don’t need to worry about equipment malfunctions, difficult-to-obtain life insurance, or their peers calling them foolhardy. They just do what they do, without ropes or inhibitions…” (from a link in today’s Alpine Club of Canada e-letter).

I’ve long marveled at the genetically hard-wired abilities of sheep and goats when it comes to rock climbing (and I’ve posted on this before, e.g. here and here). Don’t underestimate the sure-footedness, balance, and sheer gumption of the mystical Ibex either (stambecco in Italian, Steinbock in German). These pictures speak for themselves (yes, the tiny specs in the lower photo are what you think)…

Origins unknown—if you find out, let me know?

(Thanks to a tip by “Jay,” this may the source)?

The woods of Eastern Manitoba

I returned from a trip to Asia two weeks ago to quite the nasty surprise—20 inches (50cm) of standing water in the lower level of my home. It seems that we had a massive dump of rain locally while I was away (5 inches in a mere three hours, I’m told) just when the floating switch that turns on the sump pump decided to give up the ghost—the groundwater would have come up fast, and then the efficient concrete heat-sink below grade prevented it from receding.

Needless to say, the past ten days have been a blur of activity (thanks for your help, brother Jim and Evelin, my love!) what with pumping out the house, carting out wet furnishings and belongings, replacing electrical systems (sewage pump and hot water tank), cutting out drywall, bleaching wood, and thorough cleaning… the job’s still far from done and renovations will stretch through much of the winter.

Among the flooded casualties and ruined nostalgia were portfolios of my old drawings… some of which I hadn’t seen since the 1970s. Though mostly stained, torn, wrinkled, warped, and discolored (black mount-board stains adjacent surfaces blue and indigo when in wet contact for long enough—who knew?) I’ve managed to dry and salvage some developmental sketches, a sampling of which appear above.

To be honest, I’d have to say that some of these old drawings have actually been improved by the flood damage…

(from Climbing magazine)

Knots: they attach us to ropes, connect slings to trees, substitute for dropped gear, secure tents, create belay anchors. Like the Force, knots surround us, protect us, and bind our galaxy together. Even a sport climber whose shoes close with Velcro knows a few knots. But here are a few things you might not know.

1) The word “knot” is related to knob, knoll, and knuckle, but not to knowledge. It is knoten in German, knot in Dutch, knut in Swedish, nudo in Spanish, and noeud in French.

2) The Inca’s only “written” language was a system of knots tied into necklace-like “documents” called quipus, or “talking knots.” Some scholars think quipus recorded only numbers, but others believe that they also told stories and encoded historical events. A select class of Incas apparently interpreted the knots, and the code has never been definitively deciphered. Knots were also used for record keeping in ancient China, and the Chinese Book of Changes, almost 2,500 years old, associates knots with contract and agreement.

(I’ve long been a knot-enthusiast. Three years ago, I designed, illustrated, and published a booklet entitled Top Climbing Knots for the Alpine Club of Canada—copies are still available through the Manitoba Section of the ACC).

Winnipeg, Canada

My 90-year-old father called me yesterday to tell me that he loved me—and that he had been thinking about and praying for me. I’m not sure I could describe the emotions this triggered… even if I tried.

Thanks, Dad.

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“You don’t have to deserve your mother’s love.
You have to deserve your father’s.
He’s more particular.”

—Robert Frost

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We all have moments like this, right?

Classic dilemnas… with seemingly no-win outcomes.

Los Angeles, Alcatraz, Toronto

Banksy’s been busy of late… more here.