Support Team USA Paraclimbers - 2023 Edition!

This year, the USA Paraclimbing team is bigger, stronger, and better than ever. With three world cups and a season capping world championship, we are looking forward to having a record breaking year! While USAC has stepped up considerably with financial support to its para team, there’s still a significant cash need for most athletes. Here’s a list of support opportunities to help get our nation’s best paraclimbers on the world stage. If you’d like your funding page added, just email me!

Cail Soria, AL2

Denver, CO

Cail had her leg amputated less than a year before she made her first paraclimbing national team. “I will be writing donators names on the back of a 2023 USA Team memorabilia jacket I am making that I will be taking with me to all of the comps. I will also be documenting all of the comps on my socials so you can follow along on this journey!”

Click Here to Support Cail

Brian Liebenow, RP1

Knoxville, TN

Brian is a USAF Veteran who has made his first Paraclimbing National Team. “[At first], I inwardly laughed and scoffed at the idea that a guy who had no use of his left arm, was partially paralyzed, and eating through a feeding tube could ever take part in such a sport. Now, I’ve got my sights set even higher to the Paraclimbing World Cup in Salt Lake City in May, representing Team USA. I may not take home any medals but I’m competing more for the upper limb amputees half my age who are sitting on their couch thinking climbing is strictly a 4-limbed sport.”

Click Here to Support Brian

Olivia Conforti, RP2

Barnegat, NJ

Olivia has been climbing for a while, but this marks her first year on Team USA. “I have been a disabled climber for the last 9 years, with a degenerative neurological condition that affects the functioning in my legs. This past March I competed for the very first time at the US Paraclimbing National Championship, and through my hard work and training I earned a silver medal, securing my spot on the USA Climbing Team for the 2023 Season. This experience was incredibly transformative, and it stoked my fire beyond belief to continue on this competition journey, and to test my skills against other paraclimbers on an international stage.”

Click Here to Support Olivia

Brayden Butler, RP2

Birmingham, AL

This is Brayden’s second year on the Paraclimbing Team. He is the youngest member of our team - he’s got a long career ahead of him! “BB is 16 years old and a Traumatic Brain Injury / Hemorrhagic Stroke survivor. He experiences what’s called “left neglect” due to the injury. The brain doesn’t talk to the left side of his body like ours does. He has to make conscious efforts to use his left side, or his left arm will posture. Hoping to see Paraclimbing in the 2028 Olympics and BB on the podium!”

Click Here to Support Brayden

Tanner Cislaw, AL1

SLC, UT

Tanner is a veteran to our team and no stranger to performing under pressure on the world stage. “Since suffering my spinal cord injury in March of 2018, I've dedicated my life to climbing and have been pushing myself to win gold in the "seated" category on the world stage. After receiving a silver medal in Moscow 2 years ago, my motivation and ambition to prevail are at an all-time high.”

Click Here to Support Tanner

Nat Geo Live Speaking Tour - Year 2!

Last year I had the privilege of visiting 10 cities across the country to share my story, and meet so many of you that have followed along this wild ride for years. I assumed that year two would be quieter, but I have 14 different cities on the books for 2023!

Below you’ll find dates and links to purchase tickets for this season. I also hope to visit the local climbing gym in each city, so drop me a note if you want to swap belays. I’ll also take beta on the best mac and cheese spots.


1/17/2023 - Baton Rouge, LA - Tickets

1/29/2023 - Tucson, AZ - Tickets

2/7-8, 2023 - Dallas, TX -Tickets coming soon!

3/21/2023 - Des Moines, IA - Tickets

3/23/2023 - Collegedale/Chattanooga, TN - Tickets

3/26-28/2023 - Toronto, ON - Tickets

4/4/2023 - Boise, ID - Tickets

4/12/2023 - Mesa, AZ - Tickets

4/20/2023 - San Francisco, CA - Tickets

4/25/2023 - Victoria, BC - Tickets

4/29/2023 - Benton Harbor, MI - Tickets

5/1/2023 - San Luis Obispo, CA - Tickets

5/26/2023 - Thousand Oaks, CA - Tickets

6/2/2023 - Austin, TX - Tickets


Working on the Road: Pt 1

‘Working on the Road’ is a new series, combining camper life with working remote while traveling with three dogs and adventuring on the way.

With #vanlife trending and the pandemic pushing more and more people to remote work, the itch of life in the road is becoming a lot easier to scratch for a lot of people. Still, there’s more to it than cowboy songs and cheap coffee. As I write more about our experiences, I think it’s prudent to start with a ‘disclaimer’ list - so you know exactly where we’re coming from and how it could compare to your situation. Everyone’s life and experience will be different, and my story isn’t meant to be a prescription, or even a ‘how-to’ - it’s simply a telling of the good, the bad, and the tips we’ve gathered from our days on the road. Sorry to say this will be the least sexy entry in this series, but here we go.

Queso and the Rig on our shake down trip

Queso and the Rig on our shake down trip

DISCLAIMERS, BACKGROUND AND ASSUMPTIONS:

  • I work part time as a social media marketing manager for a climbing wall company. They’re pretty great at letting me work flexible hours as long as I communicate my schedule ahead of time and make room for meetings during ‘normal’ hours as needed. The rest of my ‘work’ I call the Mo Show - that’s working with sponsors, scheduling speaking gigs, creating content like this, etc. Between the two, I’m probably ass-at-computer 30 hours a week.

  • My husband Brian has a ‘real job’ as a software engineer for a large satellite company. The do open PTO, so if we need to travel on a weekday or spend some time out of service, it’s pretty chill. That said, it also means he’s pretty much always working and almost never takes a pure vacation.

  • Because we both have jobs, we are able to spend a bit on the road - this isn’t going to be a dirtbag’s guide to road life on $20 a week. We often pay for camping, eating out, etc.

  • We still own our house in Colorado and spend most of our time there. However, we are looking to do more time on the road in two week chunks here and there with a few month+ trips thrown in. We got lucky and bought our house before the Front Range real estate went absolutely bonkers, and we have a roommate or two at all times to help offset housing cost and mind the cat and the gardens while we’re away.

  • We just upgraded to a 25’ camper trailer, meaning we tow it with our pick up truck, drop it at camp, and then have the truck free to use a s a commuter vehicle. See my post on why we went that route over a van here (though it features our old, smaller trailer).

  • If we travel where it’s hard to bring dogs, we’ll leave them with my in laws or hire a house sitter.

  • Our first real work on the road trip was in 2018, but things certainly look different with COVID. Currently, how we can be the most COVID safe is front and center when we plan on going on (or staying home) for a trip.

I’ll update this list as needed, but keep these in mind as you read!


Help Gimp Biscuit Get Rolling!

****EDIT - FULLY FUNDED! ****

TL;DR: I’m ‘selling’ dog treats to raise money to buy a wheelchair for my three legged dog. Venmo $15 to [REMOVED BECAUSE IT’S FUNDED] And make sure you note your shipping address in the transaction notes as well as the receiving doggo’s name, if applicable. $15 is for one 12 oz bag and includes shipping in the US. For multiple bags or other payment methods, ping me. If you’d rather donate your bag to my local rescue, just note that!

Biscuit.jpg
23722795_10103234131077260_7448397095849310856_n.jpg

Biscuit was born without her left front paw (matching her human mom!) and with dysplasia in her remaining front leg. As she's gotten older, her remaining front leg and shoulder have taken a beating. She's only 3, but cannot walk more than a few minutes without her front leg collapsing, which means she's getting bored, fat, and has pain. Because of her dysplaysia we believe she is not a good candidate for prosthetics and orthotics.

Up to 65% of a dogs weight is born by their front legs, and Biscuit only has one wonky one to bear that load. We believe that getting her a wheelchair will allow her to resume long, happy walks terrorizing the local squirrel population. We thought about building our own, but decided it would be smarter to go with a professionally built one that is built with all of her alignment needs in mind.

We will be purchasing the wheelchair through Eddie's Wheels (Model Here), which builds high quality wheelchairs for off-roading doggos. A chair for her size costs $530, and we are trying to get a little more to cover shipping and the tools needed to measure her accurately.

We don’t think she’ll be using the wheelchair 24/7 - it’s going to be exclusively for walks, to reduce wear on her body while still getting badly needed exercise and mental stimulation. She’ll probably hate it at first, and we know we’ll have to work through that. If she really doesn’t like if after a while, we’re committed to hiring a trainer to work with her so we can really use it.


BUT WAIT!
We don't really want just your cash donation. We want to earn your support. While we're not technically selling treats, we'd like you to make a donation that will get you that reward - home made treats, tested by Gimp Biscuit herself. These will be packaged nicely and mailed in time for Christmas presents.

Biscuit’s inspiration from Eddie’s Wheels

Biscuit’s inspiration from Eddie’s Wheels

Donations of $15 or more get a 12 oz bags of treats made with chicken, cheese, egg and whole wheat. Make sure to ping me or leave a comment if you want multiple bags. $15 includes shipping to US addresses only.

If this goes bonkers, any excess funds will be donated to Paradox Sports - a climbing organization for gimpy humans.

***legal gobbly gook - I’m not selling a product, you are making a donation and this is the thank you. Sweet.***



The Trailer Life

“Pfft,” I scoffed while scrolling through floorplan after floorplan. “Who needs a fridge to go camping? And a TV? And a toilet - what’s wrong with pooping in the woods, like I’ve been doing all of my life? This is ridiculous, and so not me.”

Queso at home on the road

Queso at home on the road

Brian and I were on the hunt for a way to travel together, bring our dogs, and have adventures outside while working on the road. Typically, I would take off solo, living out of my Subaru or the Tacoma (see related post: The Sleeparu) while Brian stayed home with the dogs. Now and then we’d do a weekend together. As our work changed to more flexible hours, and our dreams of adventure got bigger, and when we started kind of missing each other - we knew it was time for a change.

We thought about a van. We wanted to do a smaller van, not a massive sprinter style. Think plumber van. Quickly, there were cons:

Room for puppers and friends

Room for puppers and friends

  • My hubby is 6’3”. We weren’t planning on having too much standing room, but he’s so tall he wouldn’t be able to fit in the bed that’s traditionally across the back of a van build.

  • By the time we bought a used van that still had a lot of miles left, we were looking at $10k+, plus $5k for upgrades/build out/ etc.

  • Not doggo safe during extreme warm or cold weather.

  • Not a lot of room to hang during rowdy weather or work hours.

  • Having lived out of a car before, having to pack up your entire world each morning to go to the crag totally sucks.

We found a slide in truck camper on Craigslist, mint condition candy apple red 1997 F250 included. The camper wasn’t perfect for us, but it got us thinking - what if we’re actually looking more at that RV market?

The thing is, we’re not THEM. There is a real emotional, identity divide between the US in the outdoor world (climbers, skiers, backpackers) and the THEM (the type of characters that, in my mind, were the stereotype of those who use RVs).

But then as we looked around, we realized a travel trailer is actually exactly what we wanted:

Sure, we’d have way more room with a few less dogs.

Sure, we’d have way more room with a few less dogs.

  • Road ready, we already had a truck to tow.

  • Heat and AC for the dogs, so we know they’re safely snoozing/destroying pillows while we’re out and about for the day.

  • We could leave it at camp for days/weeks, and have our regular car to get around and explore.

  • SPACE!

  • We settled on the RPOD 178 Hood River Edition which has some off road features and is only 20’ from tail to tongue, making it easy to tow and park for noobs like us.

For essentially the same price as building out our own van, we got a house on wheels - two queen beds, one which converts to a dinette that can seat 4 easy, 6 for card games. It came with a wet bath that we converted to extra storage for our long stints on the road - same with a power guzzling microwave oven that became our pantry space. There is an outside hot shower, which has come in clutch during the age of COVID when most shower places are closed. I don’t know how I could live without a fridge now, and when we are plugged in to shore power, I pop in a DVD to relax and cook dinner. On rest days, we can comfortably work in the camper or drive to a coffee shop.

We didn’t use the water systems at first, too scared and overwhelmed at the idea of it. We finally broke down though, and it’s a real wonder to turn that sink handle and have hot and cold water flow out - even more essential when you haven’t had a hot shower for over a week.

When we get to camp for the night (which could be a week at a campground or a single night at a truck stop) it takes us about 30 minutes to get the camper levelled and ready to live in. When we leave, it’s maybe 45 minutes to pack it all up and get it on the road. Now that we’ve had it two years, everything has a place and we move pretty efficiently.

We did do some major mods:

Ready to chase chipmunks and start the day

Ready to chase chipmunks and start the day

  • Upgraded the battery by replacing the stock marine/RV battery with two deep cycle golf cart batteries so we have enough power to be off the grid, no recharge, for about a week

  • Portable solar

  • Most recently, a generator, as a back up for when we’re in a shady spot and can’t use solar (we usually try to park in the shade to keep the trailer cool, which is a catch 22) and when we want to run the AC (it sucks too much juice for the batteries to handle)

  • Converted wet bath and microwave slot into storage - we camp in places that have bathrooms, or we have a groover and tent set up for boondocking. We catch a lot of slack on that mod from the people in the RV forums (‘if you can’t poop in it, just camp in a tent!’) but whatever.

  • Added cabinets where there was just mesh to keep things in place, and the damn dogs out of the human food

  • Purchased a cellular extender and an unlimited data plan so we can more easily work from the camper, since COVID has made it harder to work in coffee shops.

  • Outfitted a burly outside kitchen, for Brian’s greasy cast iron cooking habits - I can only imagine how gross the cabin would get if cooking bacon in there every day.

All in all, we’re super happy. We’ve had some minor maintenance issues, nothing crazy. Our biggest problem is the fixed queen is 74” long, and Brian is 75” long…meaning while we got the fixed bed with the idea of only using the dinette for visitors, our nightly routine is Brian in the main bed with a dog and myself in the dinette bed with two dogs. We also can’t both get ready at once, we have to take turns getting into the closet and brushing our teeth. So, as we plan on taking longer and longer trips, spending more and more weeks on the road, we are looking to upgrade soon to a model just 5’ longer that gets us a walk around 80” bed and a full dry bath, plus a propane oven.

No, we’re not the RV life people. Except - typing this while on week 5 on the road from a my office at the Chattanooga Panera - we suddenly are. I think that the trailer life is for me. From a quick weekend trip to our bigger ones - 3 weeks in Vegas, two weeks in Wyoming, now week 5 of a big east coast trip - I can’t imagine doing this any other way.

It's the end of the world as we know it (and I'm not fine)

I sat, with a pair of $350 electric socks in my lap, trying to decide if I was about to cry. These weren’t just any pair of socks.  These were magic; they were destined for Alaska.   I thumbed the seal on the box anxiously, the one labeled ‘RETURNS NOT ACCEPTED IF SEAL IS BROKEN’, wondering what I should do.

***

I wasn’t ready.  You never are for these things but, for this, I really wasn’t. I wanted to be leading ice at a certain level with dozens of hard pitches under my belt. None of that had happened.

Chad Jukes, Motivator

Chad Jukes, Motivator

“You’ll be fine” Chad assured me, slurping the foam off a PBR.  The bar lights flickered off of the sequins of his slinky, floor length ball gown and the glitter in his beard.  “I can lead it all unless the ice is out.  Then the 5.9X rock choss pitch is yours but the ice will be in and you’ll be fine.”

The DJ called out his name, and he turned to perform his karaoke favorite: “Springtime for Hitler and Germany.”

***

It was late February.  Jim had a fever and a cough.  We make jokes.

***

It was early March.  Let the packing begin.  I had just given my notice at work.  Climbing, speaking about climbing and teaching climbing was my job description now.  My last day at my old desk was the day before I was taking off for Anchorage.

My head was spinning as I thought of my life trajectory in days to come: “speaking panel at sponsor’s HQ; Los Angeles for a photo shoot; Alaska for a month; home for one week; West Virginia for speaking gig; home for two weeks; teach clinics on the road for two weeks; Chamonix for one month .…”  For the last two years, my life was jumping from event to crag with the suitcase never quite getting put away.  I had finally placed enough puzzle pieces together to try to make a go of this new adventure.  Why not? I quit my ‘real’ job - I had life by the gnards.

***

Nationals was the first to get cancelled.  Soon to follow were photo shoots and speaking gigs.  “Fear not,” I  thought, “You’ll always have Alaska, ready or not.”

Scrolling aimlessly one day, my messenger flashed open.

“Hey team, so…this virus thing, huh?”

My heart caught in my throat, watching the ‘…’ of someone else on our team typing.

“Yeah, it’s not looking good.”

I add my own message and hit send, not believing my own words as the bubble appears:  “No worries, we should play it safe – there’s always next year.”

***

By May, I didn’t know who I was.  My suitcase was packed away in the basement.  The skin on my fingers soft from lack of use.  What good is a climber who can’t go climbing?  What kind of professional can I be without work?  Hours of scrolling through feeds, watching other ‘pros’ on their home woodies, hangboarding and  posting kale smoothie recipes had become my life.  I was filled with doubt.  I had no interest in any of that.  Am I the imposter?  Why did I ever think that *I*, of all people, could be a professional athlete?

I didn’t allow myself to feel bad in any real way.  How could I grieve what I had lost?  There are people dead and dying, people who have lost real jobs in a society where most can’t survive missing two paychecks and people on the streets protesting for social justice - things that seemed so much greater than a professional athlete’s career crash.  My desk job kept me on and my husband has secure work that he loves.  Who am I to feel sad for myself?  All I had were basic privileged white girl problems.

***

In June, I realized the reality.  These may seem minimal but they were my basic problems.  I wouldn’t get unstuck from this new limbo until I let myself feel sad and let myself grieve for what I had lost, even if the physical manifestations of my loss were only ‘cancelled ‘ lines through my calendar.  In this era of being drained emotionally every time you turn on the news or log on to Instagram, it’s important to remember that your problems and your grief STILL matter.  We are so often told not to compare ourselves to others.  Generally, such instructions are usually about physical appearance or a type of accomplishment.  Don’t worry, they say, You’ll get there in your own way and time.

I started to realize that, just as you shouldn’t compare yourself to others’ successes, you shouldn’t compare your grief and failures to theirs.  Just because someone else is struggling or may face worse challenges than you does not mean your own struggles are invalid.  We must keep what we face and what we lose in perspective compared to others but we are still facing our own unique losses that impact us each in their own, unique ways.

***

Day dreams now all come with asterisks.  We are all traveling into this new unknown together.  So, go ahead and feel bad for yourself.  And while normal may not return as soon as we’d like, if ever, you’re not experiencing this alone.   

 

 


So, you wanna compete in Paraclimbing?

Welcome to the wild and crazy world of Paraclimbing, where the competition is fun, fierce, and usually ends with chugging beer out of someone’s leg! I haven’t missed a US Nationals since the first one in 2014, and I love growing the family. That first nationals was about 40 athletes. We’ve more than doubled last year, and I’d love to see that number explode.

In the US, it’s pretty easy to get involved with paraclimbing competitions, but there isn’t a lot of info out there about HOW. With more and more adaptive climbers reaching out all of the time, I’ve decided to put together a FAQ about what USA Paraclimbing is all about.

First step? Read the rulebook! Many questions can be answered there, so here’s the link: http://www.usaclimbing.org/Officials/Rulebook.htm .I highly recommend doing a Control+F for ‘adaptive’ (soon to be ‘paraclimbing’) and reading everything that comes up.

Who can compete? Anyone with a qualifying physical disability can compete at USA Paraclimbing competitions. A list of what that is can be found here in the USA Rule book, page 64. It’s totally fine to have other disabilities that aren’t physical, too, but you must also have a disability that physically effects the way you climb.

But I’m a brand new climber! That’s ok! There still aren’t a huge number of adaptive competitions around the country, so for many athletes our first ever climbing competitions is nationals. GULP! Just keep in mind that is totally normal and have fun and enjoy your first year. Many of our athletes have only climbed a few months before entering. Before you know it, you’ll be a salty old veteran, too! Nationals can be taken seriously by climbers who want to make the US team, but many of our competitors are there primarily to have fun and meet new people.

Why compete at para nationals? Serious answer: It is a wonderful and unique experience to get to meet many other wonderful people and paraclimbers. While there is a sense of competition, as is appropriate, there is also a wonderful sense of support and camaraderie.

Less serious answer: You’ll get to meet a bunch of people who all kickass regardless of lower limb function.
— -Kyle Long, USAP National Team 2019

Do I need to qualify for Nationals? Nope. All you have to do is sign up, show up, and try your best. Hopefully one day we’ll have so many athletes that we’ll be able to roll out a regional series as a qualification event, but for now Para Nationals is an open competition.

What if I’m not a US Citizen? That’s great! We welcome international competitors. For team qualifications, top US citizen placements will be what is considered, in case of a foreign national making podium.

What is USA Climbing? USAC is the governing body over competitive climbing in the US. More officially, “USA Climbing is the national governing body of the sport of competition climbing in the United States.  As a 501(c)3 non-profit, we promote three competition disciplines, bouldering, sport and speed climbing, and is recognized by the International Federation of Sport Climbing, the International Olympic Committee, and the US Olympic Committee.

What is this going to cost me? In addition to any travel, you’ll need to purchase a USAC Paraclimbing membership ($45) and pay for nationals registration ($100). You’ll get a rad t shirt and some swag in your registration kit.

Will I be able to get around? Host gyms are selected based on many criteria, including how accessible they are - both in the facility itself as well as proximity to hotels and major airports. We request that the facilities have appropriate ramps, bathrooms, elevators, anything needed to allow people to move around independently.

What is this about Categories? We’ve created categories that people with similar disabilities compete within. Generally, they are leg amputee, arm amputee, visually impaired, limited range of motion and power, and seated/paralysis. For some of those there are subcategories- these can all be found in the rulebook, but we hope to have some major changes in place soon so keep checking back. There is also a youth category, that is not broken out by disability type (but hey, if we get enough kids in, we will!) For more information on categories, check out that rulebook- Paraclimbing starts on page 64. Some of these are pretty vague, but basically if you have a disability that effects your physical performance while climbing, it’s likely that you qualify for one of the categories.

Myself, Justin and Jake at the 2019 Nationals once the climbing wrapped

Myself, Justin and Jake at the 2019 Nationals once the climbing wrapped

You’ll run into climbers from every single walk of life and every kind of profession, you’ll get to be part of serious conversations and laugh at stupid jokes, and you’ll blend completely into a crowd. Everybody here “gets it”. And before you know it, you’ll find yourself cheering on the next new climber, too.
— Mandi Curtis, USAP National Team 2018

What if I want to compete at my home gym but there isn’t an adaptive comp? While it’s intimidating, I encourage everyone to enter regular, abled competitions - even if they don’t have an adaptive category, and even if you come in last place. Any competition experience will help you prepare for nationals.

When is it? Typically at the end of March - the 2020 Nationals are March 28-29.

Ok, I’m in - what can I expect at my first Nationals? Nationals is a multi day event, combining social gatherings and events in addition to the competition. We usually have slideshows from a pro climber, movies, food trucks, etc.

The competition itself can be hectic for the first timer. While there may be changes in store for 2020, here is how the competition has run in the past:

  • All routes are on top rope.

  • There are man routes to choose from, last year there were about 80 over 35 ropes. Some climbs can count for multiple ‘tops’ - for example, there may be a zone 20’ up one climb, and that gets you points for Climb X. If you make it to the next zone, you get credit for Climbs X and Y. If you make it to the tippy top, you get credit for X, Y, and Z.

  • You have 3 hours to compete and get points. If you fall, you can get back in line and repeat a climb as many times as you want. Points from your three hardest climbs go towards your total score.

  • Everyone climbs at once - it gets crazy, it’s loud, there are lines for climbs, it can be hot and hectic. But it’s also wicked fun.

  • Awards ceremony follows shortly after the finish of the climbing portion of the competition.

How do I sign up? Follow USA Climbing, USA Paraclimbing on facebook and instagram as well as sign up for USAC emails. Registration will be a few months before the event. Sometimes the website doesn’t work well with screen readers so if you need help signing up, call the USAC office.

How hard is the climbing? It’s hard to say as the routes aren’t graded other than route 1 is the easiest and route 80 is the hardest. I’d guess that route 1 is 5.4 and route 80 is 5.13.

Every route you see in this picture is a nationals route. Picture by Jon Vickers.

Every route you see in this picture is a nationals route. Picture by Jon Vickers.

I’m serious, and I want to make the US Team: Paraclimbing Nationals is a qualifying event to make the US Climbing Team. Traditionally, top 4 US finishers get invites to the team. Every odd year is the World Championships that we attend as a big group. Otherwise, making the team will allow you to compete at other events internationally (world cups, other national championships) while representing the US.

2019 Team USA Paraclimbing at the World Championships in Briancon, France

2019 Team USA Paraclimbing at the World Championships in Briancon, France

Is there any prize money? …no, but I’ll give a hella high 5 and a hug to anyone who tries their best.

Are you a brand or company interested in supporting Paraclimbing Nationals as a sponsor? Please reach out to learn more - click the ‘Contact’ link at the top of the page!




The Gimpy Belay

More and more, I’m getting emails and calls from folks that are either an adaptive climber themselves - or work with someone who is - about how to belay. Sometimes it’s just a check in for the best technique, other times it’s because the gym they’re going to refuses to belay certify them because they don’t fit in the belay check box.

Photo by Kris Ugarizza

Photo by Kris Ugarizza

Hopefully, in the near future, my partners and I will develop a video to accompany this blog post. Until then, I’ll be building this out to work as a reference to how folks with different disabilities CAN belay. This will be a work in progress, so keep checking back and shoot me messages with any questions, clarifications or suggestions). I’m going to go ahead and publish this unfinished for now, because this information really needs to get out there!

Note - this will only make sense if you’re already quite familiar with a typical belay method of PBUS. As always, seek qualified instruction.

UPPER LIMB DIFFERENCE

HAND AMPUTEE (CAN USE ELBOW)

This is the category I fit it. Top rope belaying is quite simple and you can use either a tube style device or assisted braking device. For lead or toprope, I prefer to belay with a Petzl Gri Gri. I can use just one hand to pull slack up, use my stump to hold the tail and to slide my hand back up to the device or tuck the tail between my knees to slide my hand up. If the rope is double wrapped at the lead anchor, I’ll often squat to take rope and bring up the slack as I stand up.

Lead belaying took a little longer to figure out, but again, there’s totally a way to do it. Here I always use my Petzl Gri Gri *. I’m able to use my right hand just like the official Petzl method, but instead of using my second hand to pay out slack on the climbers side, I pinch the climber’s rope with the inside of my elbow and pull it out that way.

Step 1 - snag rope with elbowPhoto by Kris Ugarizza

Step 1 - snag rope with elbow

Photo by Kris Ugarizza

Step 2 - pull rope outPhoto by Kris Ugarizza

Step 2 - pull rope out

Photo by Kris Ugarizza

I don’t get the same amount of range and can short rope if my climber is doing a giant monkey clip that I’m not ready for, but this method is completely legit as the business/safety end isn’t affected.

ARM AMPUTEE (NO USE OF ELBOW, NO USE OF SECOND ARM AT ALL)

This is folks who truly have one arm, or function as if they have one arm. For this, I’ll use my friend Dan as an example. Dan actually has two arms, but had a bike accident where he hit his shoulder so hard that all of his nerves were severed in his right arm. So, he can feel with it still, but he can’t move it or grip with his hand. His left arm is still totally normal.

LOWER LIMB DIFFERENCE/SEATED

STANDING

This might be a no brainer, but someone with a prosthetic leg or other conditions that allow them to still stand while belaying…are just regular belayers. Nothing exciting to see here, folks!

SEATED

Allison has a chronic pain condition that makes standing to belay untenable. She belays on her butt just fine!

Allison has a chronic pain condition that makes standing to belay untenable. She belays on her butt just fine!

Adam Starr following the rules and standing while belaying.

Adam Starr following the rules and standing while belaying.

My friend Jess is an amazing climber and a super safe belayer - and she’s missing her leg through the hip. She uses crutches to get around, and sits while she belays. Sitting is often a point of contention when it comes to belay checks, especially in a facility that rigidly follows rules that aren’t meant to be inclusive. The thing is, when you stop to think about WHY that’s a rule - it’s because a seated climber implies a lazy belay from someone who’s not paying attention, or is seated in a comfortable location that’s too far away from the line of the rope to be safe. Outside, you do have to deal with the belayer being able to move around from objective hazards, but in the gym? Just make sure the climber doesn’t have loose shit in his pocket and they’ll be fine. For Jess, and other disabled climbers that would sit to belay, as long as she is in the correct line of the rope and is paying attention, a seated belay is a safe belay. Sure, keep enforcing the no-sitting rule for every gym bro and broette, but think outside of the box when it comes to adaptive belayers.


VISUAL IMPAIRMENT

“Ok,” you’re thinking. “Now here’s one where it’s really, truly, for real not possible to belay - right?” You would be wronger than rong*. Blind or Visually Impaired belayers are some of the safest that I know. I’ll use my friend Bill Casson as an example. If I’m the climber, I don’t leave the ground until Bill actually feels my knot, that it’s going through both soft points, and verifies with me watching that his belay device is rigged properly and is locked. When was the last time you had such a thorough partner check with one of your abled friends?

Bill Casson, a VI climber, ready to belay Esha Mehta, also a VI climber

Bill Casson, a VI climber, ready to belay Esha Mehta, also a VI climber

When it comes to VI belaying, systems checks and communication are key. A quiet space helps, so the climber can call clearly to the belayer. The climber may have to give more feedback than they’re used to for slack and tension, but that’s about all.





*see what I did there?

The Cirque of the Unsh!tables

This is the first in a series of vignettes telling the story of my first ever alpine expedition, in August 2018 to the Cirque of the Unclimbables in Canada’s Northwest Territories. You can read about the cast of characters here.


Let me tell you about my friend and the expedition film maker, Taylor. Taylor doesn’t like poop. He finds great discomfort in the ease with which I can discuss my own lower GI tract situations. He doesn’t feel that way because I’m a girl; I get the impression that he’s just a generally private pooper. “Goddam it, Mo,” he’d protest. “You’re obsessed with shitting. You’re disgusting.”

Fairy Meadows has a fantastic outhouse with an ingenious design – a platform over two giant plastic tubs, that the ‘house’ section can roll over the second once the first is full. At the end of the season, a parks service helicopters the tubs out to be disposed of…elsewhere. The temps stay cool at that latitude, so the smell stays pleasant. There are few enough people up there that only once during out stay did I have to wait on someone. The view on your way to the hidden hollow where the house was tucked away was of the gorgeous sheer face of Mt Harrison Smith. In short, shitting in the meadows was easy.

Fairy Meadows, fantasy shitter

Fairy Meadows, fantasy shitter

When we realized we would be bivying on the LFT, rather than doing it in a day, our shits got a lot more complicated. “Yup, this right here,” Pat said proudly, patting his mini orange haul bag, “This here is for our shit. I’ll bring one wag bag. We can share*.” That’s probably going to be uncomfortable, I thought to myself. Taylor let out an audible gulp, and Jim – as always – looked non plussed.

After a day of climbing the first 10 pitches, we arrive at the bivy ledge. It’s a flat grassy spot about 30’ wide and 15’ deep. It’s a nook, with walls on a short and long side, and the rest of the ledge is open to the glacier 1,000 feet below. We fix a line along bolts on the back of the wall, and tie in with a rope end loosely around our waists, just enough to keep us from dying if we did manage to fall off the edge, but supremely comfortable after 12+ hours in a harness.

I was famished and thirsty, but I didn’t have to poop. I can’t say I was feeling all that happy. I was exhausted and scared from the wild climbing we had done that day – surfing picnic table sized blocks, horrendous run outs on questionable gear, having other parties rain scree down a chimney onto our heads, all while wearing a bigger pack than I had ever climbed with. Still, I didn’t have to poop.

We didn’t arrive at the bivy til 11 pm, when the northern sunlight was just beginning to fade. Tucked in our bivy sacks, the stars appeared; shortly after, the green northern lights were faintly dancing over our heads. Contrary to the weather the rest of the trip, the night was warm, still, and dry. I woke just before the sun and had a pee that I’ll remember forever – sat over the edge, my rear suspended over the abyss as my body bridged a gap between two large blocks, and a view of glaciers and unclimbed peaks without another soul (save for the three men sleeping behind me). A five star piss on a four star scale. But still, I didn’t have to poop.

Jim enjoying breakfast on the bivy ledge. PC: Taylor Zann

Jim enjoying breakfast on the bivy ledge. PC: Taylor Zann

As we racked up after breakfast, Pat leaned against the back wall like a cowboy leans on a fence post. “Goddam it,” he spat out slowly. “I don’t think I have to shit, but if I don’t shit now I’ll have to shit later and then I’ll be fucked. God-DAMN-it.” The next 8 pitches were all hanging belays.

Jim shrugged. “I don’t have to poop, but go for it.”

“Me either,” I added.

Taylor was staring at the ground. “I…I think I should poop.”

LFT Pic.PNG

Pat grunts and goes for it. There isn’t much privacy on the ledge, so we’re all in this ride together. He pulls out the pieces of the wag bag – which, we learn at this point, is a cobbled together home made wag bag – and sits in relative peace while we turn around.

“Ok Tay,” he says while shitting. “So there’s a sheet of plastic here that you shit on, but I only brought one. So I’m going to shit on it, then you’re going to shit on my shit, then you’re going to roll that shit up and stuff it in the bag. Cool?”

I wasn’t sure but I think I could see the color leave Taylor’s face. Was this all a power play on Pat’s part? A move to be the alpha male of the group? Was Pat taking advantage of knowing how Taylor felt about poop – especially other people’s?

After almost two weeks without a shower, Taylor was looking haggard, and now he looked broken. All he managed was a weak acknowledgement of the situation as he sullenly accepted his fate. Pat finished, and Taylor slowly made his way to the steaming sheet of plastic. “I got ya, bud,” Pat said as he zipped his pants. “I sprinkled some grass on the pile so you don’t have to look right at it.”

“Thanks,” Taylor mumbled.

Our poor, neglected little poo bag after we returned to camp from the summit

Our poor, neglected little poo bag after we returned to camp from the summit

And so, we three stood gazing out over the range of the cirque, watching clouds swirl over the summit of Mt Probiscus, listening to car sized blocks thunder off of the mountain flanks to the glacier below, while Taylor layered his shit on top of another mans. “Oh GOD” he choked over and over. I thought he might be near tears, but I couldn’t tell, and I wasn’t going to look. Finally, he finishes his contribution and gingerly picks up the corners of the overloaded plastic sheet. “Jesus”. He manages to get the sheet inside of the zip loc without much fuss, and deposits the whole bag into the haul bag.

Jim and I looked at each other. “Nope, still good. I can save it for the ground.” The fortunate side effect of the extreme dehydration we were experiencing was that I didn’t have to poop (or wasn’t able to) for a good 48 hours, long after I was back to the safety, security, and privacy of the Fairy Meadows outhouse. I think Taylor will be going the planned dehydration route in the future, so that he will forever have the privilege of never having to share his shit sack again.

 




*Wag bags are 100% NOT designed to be shared

 

 

Cirque of the Suffering - Cast of Characters

An adventure is only as good as the people you share it with, and that’s especially true if said adventure goes south more than a handful of times. The Cirque of the Unclimbables had no shortage of crazy characters. Here are just a few of them:


Taylor, never to be trusted with a Jetboil again.

Taylor, never to be trusted with a Jetboil again.

Taylor Zann, The Filmguy – Taylor is young, but I forget that a lot as he tells stories of his travels around the world. He is a gifted film maker, yet this is his first big trip- let alone as the solo force behind the camera. He cannot be trusted with cookware. Based out of L.A., Taylor grew up around the Seattle area where he learned to climb with his dad. He brought only low top approach shoes and light weight sneakers to the Cirque and regretted everything.

 


Jim, very proud of his marmot poop and maybe a little Scotch drunk

Jim, very proud of his marmot poop and maybe a little Scotch drunk

Jim Ewing, The Hardman – Jim is a climber so strong and prolific you should have heard of him but probably haven’t. I was climbing with him in CO when someone asked a question on anchors. “Oh, the quad?” he said casually, “I invented that.” He’s engineered climbing ropes for over 20 years and will terrify you with facts on how easy it is to cut them. He has a wife that’s way cooler than him, and a daughter that gives me hope for the future. While on vacation in the Cayman Islands, he did an oopsie and landed hard, broke a bunch of things, and decided that having two legs is overrated and chopped one off, joining my club. This was Jim’s dream trip, so, really, this is all his fault.

 


Pat “Rock climbing is supposed to be dangerous” Goodman

Pat “Rock climbing is supposed to be dangerous” Goodman

Pat Goodman, The Team Captain – “Oh, you couldn’t be going up there with a better guy than Pat,” a mutual friend told me as I was checking references. “He can be a crusty asshole, but that’s pretty much why we love him.” Pat wrote the book (literally) on climbing in the Vamps and Cirque – you can find it in a three ring binder at the Inconnu Lodge and in an ammo box tucked under a boulder in Fairy Meadows. The Cirque is in the middle of nowhere with complicated logistics; Pat handled all of that as well as being our camp chef. I only got the runs once with him at the helm.

Hey Fishy Fishy - Suck mah Stump!

"Fishing! I thought this was a climbing blog!" I hear ya, and let me explain.  A few years ago I bailed on my husband for a long holiday weekend to go climbing. I felt kinda bad, so I booked him a fly fishing guide for while I was gone - he'd been saying how he wanted to try, but didn't know where to start.  Fast forward a year or two, and he's hooked, and convinces me to try it. My line isn't in the water more than 15 seconds when SLAM! a trout sucked down my fly and I caught my first real fish.

This is me, tbh.

This is me, tbh.

Fly Fishing is such a great compliment to climbing. Many of the areas I climb in are along rivers full of rainbows and browns. It's easy to fish at sunrise, go climb your face off, then cool down with an evening session back down in the river. 

Funny thing is, I probably put off fishing because it seemed damn hard with one hand. I tangle ropes that are on the ground, how the hell do I manage a reel with a line I'm supposed to be stripping while a fish is doing his damndest to muck it all up, and try to look as good as Brad Pitt while doing it? Learning to fly fish with one hand was MUCH HARDER than learning to climb. Hopefully, I can share some of my stump hacks so that others can enjoy.


STEP 1: TENKARA

I was first introduced to Tenkara style of fishing by a friend who was working for Tenkara USA. 'Worried about managing a reel? Just skip it!' he said. So, skip it I did.  Tenkara was pitched at me as beginner and one hand friendly. It was, and now that it's been 4+ years, it's actually still my go to set up. When bringing in a big fish I’ll still (sometimes) need help netting it, but then again, people with two hands are also often using a buddy system to land the big one. There’s not much else to say about this style as it truly is simple, and it’s wonderful because I can fish the exact same as the two hander next to me.

One hand? Zero problems with Tenkara.

One hand? Zero problems with Tenkara.


STEP 2: WESTERN

Snack size trout on the Frying Pan outside of Carbondale

Snack size trout on the Frying Pan outside of Carbondale

First, let me be clear: I still kind of suck at Western. My tenkara practice has been very deep, and I feel like that motion and pole are just an extension of my body. There are some waters, though, that dictate needing the reach of a Western rod. My technique is still…experimental, to say the least, and is quite noisy in the way of rod movement through the cast. That said, I catch a lot of fish on it, so they don’t seem to mind?



I pinch the leader with my finger when the rod is forward and create a loop of locked of leader. On the back cast, I put my stump through that loop and pull against it, making the loop bigger. At the apex of my back cast I release the loop, sending the excess line shooting out behind me, ready to be rolled forward. Stripping line is a bit tricky and does involve a lot of noise on the rod as I use my stump to pinch the line on my hip then slide the rod forward on the line. Bringing in a fish is easy once I switch to the reel, I just hook my stump under the knob and spin.


STEP 3: ACCESSORIZE

Foam Tie Blocks: These are usually used for winding leaders with flies on so you can have your rig ready to go when you’re in the field. I mostly use them as my ‘hand’ when I’m tying my flies on to line - I’ll squeeze the foam between more knees or hold against my chest with the fly in it, and that will hold the fly stable while I tie it on. These are easy to lose, so snag a couple.

Chest Pack (Ditch The Vest): I never went for a vest, and went with a hip bag instead. Being able to spin the bag around and use it as a shelf to tie on flies was huge. Since then I’ve switch to a chest pack that I wear as a sling bag, specifically, I’m using the Fishpond Cerveza because…beer coozie. Tenkara fishing emphasizes minimalism, and not having a ton of shit is something I try to practice when western fishing, too. If I can’t get it to fit in that pack, odds are I don’t need it.

A few pitches of climbing broke this tape in for climbing quite nicely!

A few pitches of climbing broke this tape in for climbing quite nicely!

Stump Tape - Not Just For Climbing: A thick layer of stump tape allows me to hook a fly through the tape, if I’m too deep in a river or can’t use the foam block for another reason.

Whistle: For when I hook a big guy and need help with a net, or when I can’t manage the fish on my own to get out a swallowed or overset hook. Also for general safety, when I crank on that sucker everyone for miles can here me say ‘HALP!’

Boa Boots (Korkers Darkhorse for Women) - Boa lacing systems have been an incredible find for me, especially for cold and wet environs where I don’t want to have my bare stump out collecting ice. I’ve loved them on snowboarding boots, ice climbing boots, and now Korkers has made the first pair of women’s Boa boots. Not only are these a major upgrade from the shitty clearance beginners boots I had before, these are quick and easy to lace with one hand - I’m now beating my hubby out of the car and to the river even faster.

 

A Note on Climbing

The following was written for, and published in, the 2018 Guidebook to Membership Magazine for the American Alpine Club. You can learn more about them and support their mission here: https://americanalpineclub.org

I had been climbing a few years before I went on my first “climbing trip”— the kind you finish ready to quit your job and move into a van. Rumney hadn’t been high on my list of places to visit; images I’d seen of strongmen on lines like Predator (5.13b) deterred me until a crew of friends finally convinced me to give the place a chance. We loaded up and headed out for a long weekend. The trip was classically New England: camping at Rattlesnake, enjoying late fires next to the river, and climbing slick schist in the most humid, mosquito-infested conditions you can imagine.  

Going full top rope hero on Masterpiece, Rumney 

Going full top rope hero on Masterpiece, Rumney 


Over those three days, it dawned on me that you don’t have to be the bro hang-dogging on 5.hard to be a climber. Each rope I flaked, each bolt I clipped, and each burnt pot of spaghetti brought me closer to this all-consuming world where I could be a climber. The climbing community is bigger than grades. We have shared experiences—no matter who we are, what we’re climbing, or whether we’re doing it with one arm or two. Near the end of that first day, I was close to sending my first route at Rumney. It didn’t matter that it was Granny’s Route (5.4)—when I got to the chains, my friends were cheering even louder than my heart was pounding.
Sitting in a lecture hall back at school in Vermont, scratching at mosquito bites and picking at tape lines, I wasn’t thinking of the lesson on the board but of the lessons from the rock. That failure is ok. That we learn more from our mistakes than our successes. That sharing in the wins of others can be more meaningful than our own.


Rumney became my first love, and set me on a path to many others. It’s already been twelve years since that trip, but the stoke hasn’t waned. I’m always left wanting and looking for more, and with the confidence and family I’ve gained since those first trips to Rumney, I know I have what it takes to find it

The Project

WHAT: Climb 5.12 before I got too old and decrepit. That timeline got expedited when friends decided to film the process and wanted a happy ending for a piece that had a finite due date. 

The start of the crux for the 80,000th time- PC Taylor Keating

The start of the crux for the 80,000th time- PC Taylor Keating

WHERE: Damned if I knew where to start. Fortunately, I have a good friend who has climbed too many routes in the area and knows my style. He picked out Reefer Madness for me (11a, my first ever real 'project' that I bagged in April 2016), so when Days of Future Past was on his list of ticks for me, I figured that would be as good as any to start with.  A first TR burn had me thinking 'You know, this doesn't feel any harder, or more impossible, than the first time I got on Reefer. I think this could go...' 

WHY: The answer should be to see how far I could push myself, to find a challenge that would get me to be the best I could be - but that would be bullshit. When I step back and think about why, it's because of my own insecurities and the constant nagging feeling of needed to prove myself to the world.  Especially as I've been getting more attention for my climbing in the recent years, I want to feel like I've actually earned that attention and all of the cool opportunities that come with it (free shoes!). I have a complex where I imagine strangers talking about me, and saying 'Yeah, she's ok...but it's only because she has one hand that anyone even cares.'  Somehow, I thought that getting myself on a climb that had a benchmark grade of 5.12 would make me a 'real' climber - one handed or not. Is this a healthy approach? Probably not, but it worked out. I also think it's cool to change the conversation from 'Wow, I couldn't do that with one hand!' to 'Wow, I couldn't do that with TWO hands!'

'It's midnight. Can we go home now?' PC - Taylor Keating

'It's midnight. Can we go home now?' PC - Taylor Keating

HOW: Siege tactics, single pitch style.  I knew my best chance was to get on something that had a more technical, less burly crux, because that meant sending was more about solving the puzzle than being stupid strong. That said, I had no idea how long it would take. In the end, it was about 4 months of problem solving followed by a month of execution.  I was there after dark, til near midnight, on multiple occasions. There were stretches where I was up there after work, three days a week. I believe the final 'days - on -route' count is in the mid 20's. The bottom and the top of the route was pretty simple and straight forward, so I essentially spent 5 months working a 12' section of rock.

The 'Thank god this is over' face as captured by Taylor Keating.

The 'Thank god this is over' face as captured by Taylor Keating.

THE RESULT: By now it's obvious that I'm only writing this because I got the send.  Clipping those chains I was hit with a wave of relief, then...nothing. Completely anti climatic. My friend John summed up the overall feeling: 'Finishing a long term project is an interesting feeling. It isn't the pure elation and joy of just barely hanging onto something, or fighting through and sending something you probably shouldn't have. It's more like the completion of an eventuality, satisfaction that your practice paid off, but ultimately an empty feeling.'

I don't feel like I conquered 5.12 - in fact, at the end of this process the grade became irrelevant. It was more about the climb itself. My general take aways?

  • Why the eff did it take so long? Once I found my beta, it went after only a few days of effort of linking everything together.
  • It didn't feel that hard, in the end. My RP burn on DOFP felt no harder - maybe even easier - than my RP on Reefer. Crazy, right?
  • Clipping the chains, this first thing I felt (after relief) was a nagging voice - 'What's Next?'

SO, WHAT'S NEXT? When I started this process, I was under the impression that bagging a 12 would be the peak of my career. I'd know I could do it, then I could peace the hell out and become a 5.8 climber who eats a lot of cup cakes for the rest of my life. In fact, the opposite is true - I'm now more motivated than ever to become a stronger climber, because I know I can be stronger. I can be better than DOFP. This is only the beginning.


Special shout out to James, Eamon, Ashley, Lane, Chad, Tommy, Nellie, and everyone else who had to catch my sorry ass on the same move over...and over...and over again. It takes a village.

The Sleeparu (Because Sprinters are for Sissies)

I'm appreciate that culturally, climbing is a sport that celebrates individuals who live in or sleep in their cars. There does seem to be a certain level of extra appreciation/perceived romanticism for those who give it all up - the job, the mortgage, the three cats and a parakeet- to live in their $50,000 converted Sprinter van. As of today (6/14/2017) the hash tag #vanlife gets 1,543,740 hits on Instagram.

What about the rest of us? We weekend warriors, we fearless many? Those of us who need to commute, transport passengers, get good MPG, have a load of furbabies to transport but want to sleep in the comfort of a cozy car cocoon? Who aren't afraid to travel for a few days without a queen sized bed, full kitchen, and enough space to have a rave with 17.5 other people- but love to be able to crash in a Wal Mart lot when needed?

I give you: THE SLEEPARU. I bought my Subaru Impreza in 2012 for about $23k. I paid it all off this year and decided to go big into figuring out how to make it the perfect combination of an RV and a zippy commuter car. I spent a lot of time planning where everything should live to maximize comfort, space, and efficiency. I've been rocking this a few months now, and I've got my system dialed. Yes my car is dirty, and I decided to take pics with the car mostly unloaded so you can see the goods. I'll add geared up photos later. 

Plan View of the Sleeparu

Plan View of the Sleeparu

A place for everything, and everything in its place.

A place for everything, and everything in its place.

Essential Components

Curtains: I tried a lot of different things, with the initial goal to have nothing permanently attached so I could still sell my car at some point. I started with magnets embedded in fabric that would stick to the door frame - that worked until I sneezed and the whole thing would fall off. Velcro would peel off everything but the glass in my rear window. So, I said screw it and screwed in -  I own the damn car and a few holes in the carpet won't make or break the sale of a beater Impreza. I ended up with these from Camping World and they're great! I bought clearance blackout curtains from Target, cut to size and installed. 

It's my car, I'll put holes in it if I want!

It's my car, I'll put holes in it if I want!

Curtains Closed = Snuggle Fest for One

Curtains Closed = Snuggle Fest for One

For the rest of the curtains I hung a rod between the oh-shit handles behind the front seats, and the rear window is a Velcro panel. All along I have some Velcro and tie points to really secure the fabric down and in place. The set up might not be Wal Mart parking lot perv proof, but it's totally great for camping at any crag. When not in use, all tie out of the way so you can still drive around with no blocked lines of sight. Finally, I got a front window sun blocker to add another layer of dark. Result? I totally comfy cocoon that I can sleep in, roll windows down for a breeze, and get changed without worrying about giving the world a free show. 

Platform folded up so front seat can slide back. Bed storage in footwell. I need to vacuum. 

Platform folded up so front seat can slide back. Bed storage in footwell. I need to vacuum. 

Sleeping Platform: With my front seat slid all the way forward, I had plenty of room to stretch out. But, the surface of the flat seats was uneven, and I was forever stuffing packs in the footwell to sleep on, then would inevitably need something out of the bottom pack. So, I wanted a platform, but it also needed to be modular so I could slide the front seat back when not sleeping.  I also couldn't have the platform be super tall - no storage underneath- the Impreza does NOT have a lot of headroom to spare!

That said, since it would have to be raised to some degree to accommodate the slope and level, I decided to pop a retractable table underneath. It simply pulls out and has a single fold down leg, and hooks on the inside of the trunk on the other side. With one sheet of 8x4 3/4" birch, I was able to build platform, table, and a windscreen for my stove.  I did carpet the top of the platform so my sleeping pad wouldn't slide around. 

The platform does attach to a ring in the frame of the car so if I were to get in an accident, I wouldn't have a plywood projectile.  I did poly the wood, and I'll probably add a few coats each season just to keep up with scratches. the best part about the platform is I can remove it, by myself, and it stores in the garage very small.

Dinner, then card games. Not regulation beer pong sized. 

Dinner, then card games. Not regulation beer pong sized. 

Cozy and well lit. 

Cozy and well lit. 

Power & Lights: I'll admit, I'm a Glamper. I like to read my books by a decent light, have my white noise app going all night, and keep my phone charged. I decided to splurge on a system from Goal Zero, combining a Yeti Power Station with a series of chainable and adjustable lanterns. The power station can run the lanterns, charge every phone in the group, and still be going strong after 5 days. No more dead car batteries for me! The station stays fixed, and the lanterns move around as I need them - on the back hatch when cooking or hanging out, and over my pillow for reading and snoozing. 

*****

Now, I do need clearance sometimes, or am going on a longer or more gear intensive trip. For that, I have a built out 2009 Tacoma - and I'll do a post on that one in the future!