Something about nothing

I love Alaska.

I love seeing the mountains when I wake up, drive to work, or go for a run.

I love the easy access to hikes where solitude abounds.

I love the rivers you can float down for weeks without seeing another soul, basking in the beauty of nature.

I love being able to go from rugged coastline to majestic mountains to winding rivers and rolling hills, to tundra as far as the eye can see.

I love the extra modifications added to climbing grades to account for moss/lichen, bees, and god-awful rock quality.

I love having friends to take on grand adventures.

I love having perspective from the last few years of my life that helps me appreciate what I have here. I missed it here.

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I've been travelling every weekend of May for various reasons. I'm ready for some one-on-one time with Ev, away from the rest of the world. We're thinking a multi-day hike, or climbing adventure if the weather holds. Having nice bikes helps, since we can go for a ride after work and cruise along the Coastal Trail. I must say, it's great having a nice bike again.

Anyways, I figured I should post something, even if it's basically nothing. These things happen.

I'm getting all up in some frozen dirt

I'm having fun.

This job lets me do basically exactly what I wanted to do with my masters degree. I get to do the preliminary design, then go out to the field, use the data to refine my assumptions and update models and recommendations, then be involved in construction administration. 

I got to do thermal hand calcs to determine freeze/thaw depths, then evaluate different failure modes (bearing capacity, slope stability, etc.) and developed recommendations based on the available data and our assumptions. Of course, a lot of the recommendations consisted of 'you should really let us go do a geotech investigation so we can try to save you money'.

And then I got to go out and drill lots and lots of holes. When I get back to Anchorage, I'll take the info from this geotechnical investigation and use it. Which is so freaking awesome! We'll do some additional field work this summer and should be able to validate the model outputs by comparing them to real-world results. 

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I've been in the field almost continually since 3 March. It's starting to wear on me, but all in all, I'm enjoying myself. 

After all, I'm playing with frozen dirt.

Granted, it's kind of awful when you're standing outside for 14 hours a day instead of working in a heated enclosure. I've taken and classified several hundred samples of various peats, gravels, sands, clays, and silts, and drilled boreholes anywhere from 15- to 70-feet deep. We've also confirmed that auguring through warm (e.g. 29-degree F) ice is basically impossible and a hammer or air rotary setup is a waaaaay better life choice. Turns out, it's hard to drill through what is basically a slushie. 

I've gotten to identify the bottom of the active layer/start of permafrost based on the ice formations, and mucked around with massive ice (if it's cold, it drills really well; if it's warm... slushie). 

I've stood around outside at 0 F in 20 mph wind while the drilling went really, really slow. 

I laughed my ass off when day shift drilled into a tundra pond and flooded the drill sled (I laughed cuz they had it cleaned up by the time night shift showed up). 

I got to man the drill controls and (kinda) learned how to drive a skid steer. I think the driller had me drive cuz he was looking for a laugh, since I definitely did not improve productivity.

I installed a couple thermistors to measure temperature profile in the ground in order to identify thaw bulbs and active layer depth (although I'm pretty sure I know exactly where the active layer ends. Yay ice formations!). 

And I have definitely regressed to the full classiness of my construction days. Apparently I fit in well with a drill crew. 

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Due to the nature of working on the North Slope, I can't go into much (aka any) detail on what I'm actually working on/looking for. Nor can I post any pictures that show any kind of oil wells, infrastructure, etc. So you'll have to content yourself with pictures of frozen dirt and sunrises (5 weeks on night shift means I didn't see much daylight for awhile). 

The drillers I've been working with, Onyx Drilling, are based out of Fairbanks and pretty much rock. They built a super sweet drill enclosure for our tundra drilling, and have been building their own drill bits to deal with the unique and changing soil conditions we've encountered. 

It's pretty sweet, even though occasionally we murder a bit. Or two.

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And now, I must confess, I'm ready to go home and sit behind a desk for a month or two. Being away from Ev for prolonged periods is a bit rough, especially since we had to do the long distance thing for a when I moved to Anchorage. There's lots more field work on the horizon (much to Ev's dismay), and now I get to take the info from all the samples we've collected and do some hardcore, fancy pants design. 

Freedom of the Press and Sensationalism: wtf, guys

I'm just gonna go ahead and warn you up front: I'm about to get on a soapbox. I promise I won't tell you how or what to think, but I am going to encourage you to change your behaviour. But just a little. Now hold on tight, cuz I actually did a bunch of research. 

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The world can be a cruel place. Terrorism, corruption, twisted politics and greed... people aren't always known for being good. And increasingly, it seems like the media exacerbates things with catchy headlines and obvious (and less-obvious) bias. 

These days, the role of the media in America and what/how news is reported is under increasing scrutiny. Eye catching headlines, bitter debate, and heated discourse are becoming the norm. President Trump has branded news outlets who don't publish flattering things or things he disagrees with as "fake news", prohibited staffers at the EPA, USDA, HHS, and DOI  from releasing press briefings or social media updates, and called for relaxation of libel laws. None of this is great. Discouraging open communication and transparency between the White House and the American people seeds distrust, which in turn polarises the media which serves as the distributer of news to Americans. 

Because let's be honest, we get our news from TV, news outlets (print or digital), and the internet. Most people won't read all the speeches, bills, executive orders, interviews with experts, and then analyse and form their own opinion. We have jobs and lives and no time to do all that. The media serves as a filter that breaks things down into bite-size chunks and tells us why we should care. So when the party line of the Executive branch becomes aggressive, resorts to name-calling, and openly wants to control what and how things are reported, it should scare us. It sure as hell scares the media, which responds with increasingly biased reporting. All of a sudden only the extreme viewpoints are being presented and it becomes hard as a consumer to distinguish fact from opinion. 

And all of this started because one man got his feelings hurt and threatened freedom of the press. 

Which brings us to today's discussion: can President Trump actually curtail freedom of the press as prescribed by the 1st Amendment, and why is everything so biased? 

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First off, the text in question. Amendment #1 to the Constitution of the United States of America. The much loved freedom of speech, press, assembly, and religion clause that is one of the pinnacles of American greatness: 

"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the rights of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition of Government for a redress of grievances".  

When it was written, interpretation of the free press clause was in line with English Common Law, where judges applied statue and legal precedent. In short, application and interpretation relied heavily on the judges. Over time, Civil Law became the norm, and the role of judges shifted towards determination of the facts of each case and application of laws within a codified framework (e.g., laws and regulations), while the actual laws were developed by legislators and the government. 

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And now for a crash course in Supreme Court rulings on Freedom of the Press. 

Over the years, the Supreme Court has ruled that the 1st Amendment protects speech against the government as long as it doesn't advocate for action that presents a clear and present danger (Yates vs. United States, 1957). This means that political speech, even if it attacks the government and public figures, is protected. Furthermore, public figures and officials must prove actual malice to cry "libel" and muzzle the press, thus protecting the right of the press to publish dissenting opinions and criticism (New York Times Co. vs. Sullivan, 1964). The right of the press to criticise the government and public figures was upheld by a 9-0 decision in Associated Press vs. Walker (1967), where the Court stated that "One of the prerogatives of American citizenship is the right to criticise public men and measures... such criticism, inevitably, will not always be reasoned or moderate". Public figures can sue for libel or defamation when they can prove that the statement was false and made with a requisite level of culpability, i.e. actual malice and intent to damage the character of the person. 

In its 1974 ruling on Gertz vs. Robert Welch, Inc, the Court found that "The first amendment recognises no such thing as a "false" idea". In Hustler Magazine, Inc. vs. Falwell (1987), the "actual malice" requirement for libel was upheld and the Court ruled that parody is protected under the 1st and 14th amendments, saying "The State's interest in protecting public figures from emotional distress is not sufficient to deny first amendment protection to speech that is patently offensive and is intended to inflict emotional injury...". 

Even though it was based in a parody/satire ruling, I find the Hustler vs. Falwell ruling especially relevant given President Trump's claims that he is being misrepresented and maligned by the media and stated urge to gag his critics. The majority opinion penned by C.J. Rehnquist pointed out that criticism of public figures and officials may be "vehement, caustic, and sometimes unpleasantly sharp", but is protected nonetheless. He went on, writing that "The candidate who vaunts his spotless record and sterling integrity cannot convincingly cry "Foul!" when an opponent or industrious reporter attempts to demonstrate the contrary". 

That doesn't mean that the 1st Amendment encourages people to say and print lies to their heart's content. Rehnquist chastised those who deliberately spread misinformation, pointing out that "False statements of fact are particularly valueless; they interfere with the truth seeking function of the marketplace of ideas... but even though falsehoods have little value in and of themselves, they are "nevertheless inevitable in free debate," id. at 340, and a rule that would impose strict liability on a publisher for false factual assertions would have an undoubted "chilling" effect on speech relating to public figures that does have constitutional value". 

There are limitations to what the press can say and publish. Cohen vs. Cowles Media (1991) found that the 1st Amendment doesn't grant the press protection from laws that limit or restrict the right to report truthful information. However, there is no requirement that the press be subjected to stricter scrutiny than an individual, and "utterances honestly believed contribute to the free interchange of ideals and the ascertainment of truth". This means that journalistic integrity and reporting facts really are optional. 

A notable limitation to the 1st Amendment protections concerns inciting violence. Chaplinsky vs. New Hampshire (1942) determined that a State can "lawfully punish someone for the use of "fighting" words, which by their vary utterance inflict injury or tend to incite an immediate breach of the peace". This was upheld in Brandenburg vs. Ohio (1969), where the Court ruled that "The constitutional guarantees of free speech and free press do not permit a state to forbid or proscribe advocacy of the use of force, or of law violation except where such advocacy is directed to inciting imminent lawless action and is likely to incite or produce such action". 

So basically, anyone can print whatever they want, regardless of truthfulness, as long as it doesn't meet the criteria for libel, incite and encourage acts of violence, or violate State laws. And, more importantly, the Supreme Court has a long and illustrious history of protecting the right of the press to say whatever they want while limiting the power of the Government to regulate it. 

The take away? President Trump doesn't have a leg to stand on when he starts attacking the press and threatening to try to control what is printed. 

Sick of reading all about the Supreme Court rulings on freedom of the press? 

Here's a kitty cuddle session to reward you for making it this far. 

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Now on to what I consider a big problem: Sensationalism and the rise of confirmation bias. 

Sensationalism focuses on emotions, rather than facts and details. It appeals to a large audience and tends to exaggerate details to make issues seem more controversial. Additionally, we can't forget that most media outlets, big and small alike, are businesses and need readership to make money. In this day and age, ad revenue from websites, rather than print subscriptions, make up increasingly large portions of profits, and media sites will do what they can to increase their traffic. People like controversy, and big attention grabbing headlines with horrifying bylines are more likely to get someone to click the link. 

There are a couple issues that result from this trend towards sensationalist headlines:

1. Sensationalist reporting deprives readers of a means to form an objective opinion. Massive bias and poorly substantiated conclusions are crammed into the first couple paragraphs, while the facts and meat of the matter get buried or glossed over, forcing the reader to try to discern what is fact and what is opinion. Even better (sarcasm!), getting all your news from traditional media has been shown to result in greater misinformation on topics (this particular article focuses on scientific news, but can be directly applied to political and international reporting, as well). 

That said, not all sensational headlines and news is clickbait and chock-full of bias. Coverage of the Clinton-Lewinsky scandal was extremely controversial because it dealt with a very taboo topic (ohmygod sex!). Yet it was a big deal and the scandal almost resulted in his impeachment and threatened to bring down the Clinton administration. Coverage of Princess Diana's death, however, was sensationalism at some of its worst, where events were dramatised and hyped as news outlets went after greater market shares; this wasn't news, it was manufacturing bullshit for the sake of financial gain. 

2. Most of us are lazy. Like, really lazy. People don't bother to read past the byline (or headline!) and draw conclusions based on that, then go ahead and share the "news" with their friends (the Washington Post did a pretty good article on this. Which, I admit, I had to go back and finish reading, then check out the cited studies after I typed this cuz I felt like a hypocrite). This has a huge influence on what news circulates and what drops off the radar, and with more and more people using social media as their primary news source, fake and misleading news is increasingly prevalent. 

This pops up in medical and scientific journals, as well as news media. "Positive" results are more likely to get published, while "negative" results disproving something and results that confirm existing studies do not. A summary of how science news gets distributed was created by Jorge Cham of PhD Comics and pretty much nails it:

You see the same vicious cycle with news coverage. Things are distilled and over-simplified, readers draw (incorrect) conclusions, and shit spirals out of control. 

3. We get desensitised and skip over news that should actually anger us. It becomes hard to determine what is real and what is clickbait, and we become jaded. 

4. We are swimming in confirmation bias. The articles we choose to read and permeate our social media feeds (like that lovely "things you might be interested in" feature present in basically everything) have so much bias crammed in that it's almost impossible to avoid surrounding yourself with like-minded people. Which reinforces our pre-conceived notions, insulates us from the opposing viewpoints, and makes us sound ignorant.

5. People don't like change. No issue is black and white, despite what the eye-catching headlines scream. Hillary Clinton did not say that she would ban handguns. The Obama administration passed a law requiring people on social security deemed unfit to manage their own affairs to get background checks before purchasing a gun, but did not require all social security recipients to get background checks. Obama never said that gun laws would eliminate crime. President Trump didn't order a raid on the CDC to collect data on vaccines and autism. Speaking of, vaccines do not cause autism (holy fuck, people, stop being stupid!). And Facebook has never claimed all your posts are copyrighted or that they will make all your posts public. Promise. 

No issue is cut and dry. There is more to the abortion debate than everyone who is pro-choice being for all abortions, all the time, and all pro-life people having a religious objection. What about the life of the mother, rape, incest (and don't even get me started on parental consent laws), or a child that will have extreme disabilities or won't survive outside the womb? What about the right of a women to body autonomy? What about the value of a life and right of a person to decide which life is more valuable? What about someone who doesn't want a kid, did everything right and still ended up pregnant? The other side of an issue usually isn't irrational or 100% wrong. If you engage in a civil conversation and try to understand other viewpoints, maybe you can expand your understanding of an issue and even learn something.

And sorry, guys, but just because you don't agree with something doesn't make it fake. 

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At the end of the day, the responsibility rests on us to sift through the bullshit and check sources to find the facts. In an age where the President is attacking the media and unbiased news is more and more hard to find, it is increasingly important to use multiple news sources (and not just ones that conform to your views. Read the other side, too. The reality lies somewhere between Fox and CNN). I've found that international news sources like BBC do a better job of reporting facts sans bias when it comes to American politics. NPR, PBS, and Reuters do a pretty good job of staying impartial, and, if you really want to get to the truth of an issue and form your own opinion, CSPAN. 

President Trump isn't wrong. The media can be incredibly biased. But bias doesn't negate facts, and facts don't lie. You can't change the truth, but you can interpret things differently based on the available information. 

And lucky for us, he won't be able to censor the press without overturning the 1st Amendment and over 100 years of Supreme Court precedent. 

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I'd apologise for going super political on y'all, but I'm not sorry. Now go be open-minded and practice critical thinking. Maybe throw a little tolerance in there for good measure. 

Still alive and employed

Somehow, over a month has gone by without any blog posts. Which is definitely a sign that things happened and I got busy and didn't bother to make the time to write anything. So. A brief recap.

I got a job at PND Engineers and did a prompt relocation to Anchorage. I've been working here for over a month now as a geotechnical engineer (actually using my degree. Say whaaaaaaat) and am having a really good time. It's been a bit odd, since Ev won't be down until the end of March, but we've been alternating weekend visits (I go up, then he comes down, etc), so it's a hell of a lot better than the 2 months that happened last year when I was in the Netherlands and he was in Fairbanks. 

I'm now up on the North Slope for a month or so to do some field work. I'm excited at the prospect of actually getting data to use for design. Geotechnical engineering is based on a lot of educated guesses and never enough real data, so this will be a valuable chance to validate and check some of the finite element models we've been generating.

Also, I'm on the night shift. So I'm currently trying to run myself into the ground for 36 hours so resetting my body clock goes easier. Lots of coffee is being consumed, and I'm going to go try out the camp gym in a bit.

Other than the new job and new city, there's not much going on in my life right now. I'm working a lot, climbing a fair bit, and not running nearly enough. Mid-March, Ev and Dakota will be going on a climbing trip to Red Rocks (outside of Los Vegas) that I was supposed to go on, but will now be in the field for. I'm a bit disappointed about that development, but the boys will have a good time and we're trying to set up a climbing trip to Greece this fall.

Anyways, that's about all I've got. 

Two years in Europe

I've been done with grad school for 6 months now, and I think I've had enough time and distance to write a bit about the overall experience. Obviously, this blog was created to document the whole 'let's move to Europe' adventure, so I thought I'd try to describe the emotional progression in a (semi) concise manner. Just in case someone else decides to try it. 

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In hindsight, the decision to up and move across the world on what was basically a whim fuelled by what I jokingly refer to as a quarter-life crisis was a good one. I had always intended to go to college outside of Alaska, but found myself staying in my hometown due to the quality of the engineering program and rifle team. Then a good job and Ev's grad school made leaving hard. I was heading down the path of being one of the people who never leave the town they grew up in, and that gave rise to a feeling of discontent and restlessness. Add in the natural competitiveness Ev and I have, and I felt the need to get a masters degree. Leaving Fairbanks for grad school made sense. I'd taken some graduate-level classes during and after my bachelors, and wanted different perspectives and material. 

I don't think Ev was 100% serious when he suggested Europe as a grad school destination. But some very good geotech programs were there, and I wanted to make a change. And in my universe, why take the easy path when the harder one makes for such a good conversation starter? Might as well go big. 

Something people don't tell you when you move to another country is that there are stages of culture shock. That initial strangeness is often all you encounter when you're travelling, but when you're living in a new place where you don't speak the language (even though everyone around you speaks yours), know where things are, and aren't familiar with, well, anything, that strangeness can take on a sinister tint. 

After a couple weeks (about the time you actually adjust to the time change), the sense of new-ness and adventure starts to wear off and all the differences seem starker. There's still novelty value, but you start to realise that you're here for the long haul; your friends, support network, and everything you're familiar with is on the other side of the world and boy, there sure are a lot of people here. Give it a month and you get slammed by a wave of homesickness. 

Then you get into a groove. You figure out the trains and metro, find the nearest grocery stores, discover the best bike route to get to school/work/the train station. You locate the nearest climbing gym and start developing preferred running routes. Then classes start and you meet people in the same situation and all of a sudden you have a bit of a social life. You start building a new network. 

For a few months, things are copacetic. Sure, some days are harder than others, but in general you're fine just plugging along. You're doing a bunch of travelling on weekends, seeing the world in a way you haven't had the opportunity to before. Travelling in Europe is cheap, your perspective is more as a local than a tourist, and there's so much to see and climb. 

You keep in touch with your friends from home, but the time zone means you're always a little behind on the times, and they're having adventures you wish you could join. Things happen and you can't be there to provide a shoulder or a hug or a high-five. You do what you can from across the pond. Life moves on. 

6 months in, the homesickness cuts you down at the knees. You miss your people, the small town, the snow and vast wilderness. The sense of discontent that was the impetus for moving in the first place is back, but this time it's more of a dull depression that you just can't shake. You half-seriously consider saying screw it and going home, but you're too proud and stubborn to concede defeat. You call home a lot and try not to have a break down. After a few weeks, it fades and things seem to be better. 

By month 8 you're got this whole thing figured out. Sure, there are days where you get homesick, but for the most part you've got your life sorted and things are going well. You have friends, a schedule, a go-to coffee place. You learn things about other countries and cultures over a passionate coffee break or a beer.  

When you go home for a month in summer, you realise how much you love Alaska. This time, when you go back to Europe, you know with absolute certainty where you want to be when you graduate. 

The second year goes by faster. There's less time to travel because you've started your thesis, but you've forged some strong friendships and made a place for yourself. There are impromptu pizza parties in the geo-corner and lots and lots of coffee. Everyone's a bit sleep deprived, but you're in it together. When you finally defend, you all go out and have a blast, and there's a small twinge of regret that your days of hanging out are numbered. As people start to graduate, you get together more and more before you go your separate ways. 

 

When you finally fly home, you know you're gonna miss your people. And, surprisingly, there are things about the country you'll miss, too. After all, Alaska doesn't have great bike infrastructure or public transport, and it is nice having easy access to different climbing areas and exciting destinations. 

The transition back to your old life is easier than starting a new one. You look for a job, and it can be frustrating because you know you're qualified and talented, but the economy just isn't cooperating. You slip back into old friendships and patterns, and appreciate things you took for granted before you left. People ask you if you'd take a job in Europe, and look surprised when you say no, it was a great experience but Alaska is where I want to be. It almost seems like you're not supposed to want to stay here after living overseas. 

You've developed an awareness of international politics. You're certainly not an expert, but you recognise the implications of some political and economic actions in a way you didn't before. All of a sudden, you see yourself as a citizen of the world, not just the US. The direction our nation's leadership wants to go worries you, but you hope the government keeps it in check. 

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Stating the obvious, the grand European adventure changed me. I like to think it made me a more balanced and interesting person. It certainly provided me with a good topic of conversation. And it definitely helped me realise what's important to me. Moving to Europe was hands-down the ballsiest thing I've ever done. And it was a lot of fun. 

In hindsight, of course. 

I am not my diabetes, but it sure is a bitch

It seems that there are a couple topics that come up on a semi-regular basis for me. Living with diabetes is one of them. I've talked a little about managing it with my climbing and running in the past, but glossed over many of the psychological factors. Based on several conversations I've had recently, I'd like to go into that a bit in the hope that other people with chronic conditions, diabetes, and auto-immune disorders may find something that resonates. 

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In case you haven't figured it out by now, I have Type I, aka juvenile, diabetes. I was diagnosed when I was 4, and in many ways, consider myself lucky; I've never experienced life without diabetes, and thus dealing with it is literally all I've ever known. It's ingrained. People diagnosed with chronic conditions later in life, especially ones such as diabetes that require drastic and permanent life changes, often struggle with depression and controlling their disease. I personally know several Type 1's who were diagnosed in their mid to late-teens and still struggle to keep their blood glucose levels (BGLs) under control. 

When you start looking into psychological effects of Type 1, a lot of what comes up focuses on juvenile diabetes and how hard it is on everyone around the shiny new diabetic and the challenges of dealing with young children and managing the disease. Diabetic children have a much higher rate of depression (close to 24%) than other kids (this seems like a 'duh', but is surprisingly easy to overlook). It's easy to feel overwhelmed by all the little things that are part of managing a chronic condition, which in turn can generate a sense of isolation, anger, and depression. Don't forget to factor in the influence a high or low BGL can have on your mood! 

I've been managing my diabetes for over 22 years, and if I stop and think about all the things I'm constantly doing to keep a handle on this stupid disease, it's pretty overwhelming. I cope by basically ignoring it - my diabetes is a fact, and my lifestyle is built around accommodating it. That said, my parents have always been amazingly supportive and made sure that diabetes never kept me from doing anything. On the other hand, you hear stories of people who stop doing their favourite activity or decide not to train for a half marathon because they're afraid they won't be able to manage their diabetes. It's easy to let fear of your condition keep you from pushing yourself. After all, playing it safe is more comfortable than venturing into the unknown.

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When I was a teenager, I struggled with depression. I didn't let on to the people around me just how bad it was, but suffice it to say it's a bit surprising I made it out of high school. Looking back, I think a component was related to my diabetes, combined with a couple traumatising experiences. My parents got me to see a counsellor, but I don't recall ever talking about the role, if there was one, diabetes played in my depression. Needless to say, the sessions weren't particularly helpful and the sense of isolation and discontent I felt was unmitigated. I wonder now if factoring my diabetes into the equation would have resulted in a better outcome. 

Having a chronic condition adds an extra layer to every experience. There will always be a small part of you that needs to hold back and observe. You can never shake the feeling that you're an outsider, not fully part of the world around you. 

And we're back to that feeling of being different, that you will never be fully understood, that people will treat you with kid gloves because of some stupid disease that isn't your fault but for some reason is now defining you. You always wonder if you didn't make the team or get invited to the sleepover because the coach was worried about dealing with your condition, or your overbearing parents, or if you're just broken and inferior because your disease. 

Chronic conditions suck. 

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My Dad and I recently discussed an article about the psychological effects of chronic conditions, namely diabetes, and if/how healthcare providers can help mitigate them. The article posed a question as to whether having a chronic condition predisposes you to depression, or if depression is a symptom that could be used to diagnose. The crux of the matter being, how do you treat someone with a chronic condition and depression. 

The question of 'what can I, as someone dealing with people with chronic conditions, do to help alleviate psychological problems' isn't one that had been posed to me before. People always want to help, and you're taught from day 1 to build a support network that can recognise and help treat high/low BGLs. The side effect of this, however, is people start to identify you by your disease. 

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Before you get mad and accuse me of attacking people who care about me and just want to help, let me explain. 

Diabetes is, by necessity, a lifestyle. Everything I do is, in some way, influenced by my disease. But I am more than just a diabetic. I have just as much potential as any other young women who loves to run, climb, and play in the dirt. When I train for a marathon, I may carry extra Gu and glucose tabs, but the hours, milage, and sweat I put in aren't worth any more or less than another runner's. My ability to climb a 5.11 slab has nothing to do with my diabetes and everything to do with hours of training, scrapes, and screaming muscles. 

So when someone comes up to me and goes 'it's so amazing that you did that, especially with diabetes!', it taints my achievement. 

I don't want to be defined by my disease. 

I don't want other people to define me by my disease. 

My diabetes didn't run the marathon, I did. Everyone has something to overcome, some personal demon to be vanquished. A knee surgery, jet lag, a colic-y baby that keeps you up all night. When we finish our marathons, we want a high five and someone to say 'way to go! You freaking rock!' 

I am so much more than a diabetic who enjoys being active. I am a person who enjoys being active. I would much rather be lauded for my accomplishments because I'm a women than because I'm a diabetic. To build things up based on my disease implies that you expected less of me because of it. 

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That said, I recognise that my diabetes brings an extra level of risk to everything I do. I've never pursued mountaineering because I don't want to deal with the logistics of carrying my glucose meter, extra insulin, and emergency food inside my jacket to keep them from freezing. Then there's the spare insulin pump or insulin pens, glucagon, and a few other things. And we have to factor in my amazing ability to get low 45 minutes into a hike, regardless of what my BGL was when we started and if I've been shoving sugar into my face. I have no idea what's causing this; it's only a problem on steep hikes, not runs, bikes, swims, or anything else. But in the event that things go sideways and I have a diabetic episode, the people I'm with are suddenly dealing with a probably belligerent, combative, and sick individual. 

I hate being cold and have never have a burning desire to take up mountaineering anyway. The risk I present to my partners, coupled with the steps I'd have to take to manage my diabetes on a mountain, just aren't worth it to me. 

But I want to you know that I absolutely could do it. I just don't have a desire to. 

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To this day, I'm extremely touchy about being put on a pedestal as a diabetic. I won't deny that it's part of who I am, and I have no idea what my life will be like when a cure finally exists (now go donate so I can find out). 

I truly believe that anyone can do anything they put their mind to, chronic condition or not. It takes work. It takes blood, sweat, tears, and endless frustration. But a disease does not make us less. There is nothing less about us. There is no reason we can't live our lives and define ourselves by our triumphs, achievements, and joys. When we allow ourselves to be defined by a disease, we let the disease win. 

And you know what? 

My diabetes can go fuck itself. I may have to deal with it, but it sure as hell doesn't make me who I am.

Teachers are pretty great (a month in the life of an unemployed engineer)

It's probably time to say something magical. After all, it's that time of year. But, despite my best efforts, things aren't moving forward quite the way I'd like. 

Allow me to explain. 

When I graduated, I was in contact with several engineering firms in Alaska, and things were looking pretty good for being able to get a job shortly after getting home. After all, I have a masters degree, several years of design experience, and a burning desire to stay in AK. Well, it turns out that even the best laid plans are subject to the whims of the economy. Which, as it happens, is shit. Especially for civil engineers. Something about the money that goes towards infrastructure and civil engineering in Alaska comes in large part from oil companies and the state and federal governments. With the prices of oil tanking (haha pun), and the fact that Alaska ran a deficit for the first time in ages last year, there simply isn't money coming in. Oh, and we're officially in a recession. So roads and bridges aren't getting built or fixed, airports are getting put on the back burner, utilities are getting ignored, and oil companies aren't building new stuff. 

tl;dr, no money = no jobs. 

And thus, for the first time in my life, I'm in limbo, keeping in touch with firms, networking like my life depends on it, and trying not to slowly lose my mind. 

Obviously, the best way to go about filling time and making something resembling money when you're an unemployed engineer is to teach. Some old adage about those who can't do, teach. Yeah, right. After several weeks of substitute teaching, let me just say HOLY CRAP TEACHERS ARE SAINTS. 

I've been substitute teaching primarily high school science and maths classes, since that's my background. Because I have no idea how to handle little kids, I'm avoiding elementary schools. And let me say, kids are ridiculous. I've developed a whole new level of respect for teachers. It's got to be a calling, cuz otherwise you'd probably lose your mind. So to all the teachers in my life, cheers to you!

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This past week Nick's band (Petty Crimes. They're a Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers cover band) played at the Pub. They're pretty damn good, and I got to channel Stevie Nicks and sing Stop Draggin' My Heart Around with them. Which was really fun. I missed singing. Yet another perk of being done with grad school: time to do stuff that got shoved onto the back burner because you can't actually make days longer, no matter how hard you try.

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Yesterday, Ev, Dakota and I had a climbathon. The goal: climb as many routes as physically possible. We were at the gym for 4.5 hours, climbed a combined total of 38 routes, and crushed pretty hard. Because I am in no way competitive, we tracked the number of routes, falls, and climbs harder than a 5.11. There were a couple really epic dynos to the top of the wall, complete with power noises (or as I like to call it, my water buffalo giving birth impression), some really cool looking body positioning and stemming, and a really impressive heel hook at chest level.

24 hours later, my fingers are still kind of burning and my neck is quite sore. I'm also not sure I can make a fist.

It's a good feeling.

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It's definitely the holiday season. The insane amount of baking for my parent's Christmas party has commenced, get togethers with people and secret santa's and white elephant gift exchanges are happening, and my alcohol intake has upped. Gotta love it.

So Happy December. 

Spread that joy

My fellow Americans -

The election is over. The results are in. The people have spoken.

I’d say ‘God help us all’, but this nation is, theoretically, not governed by God or religion. Our system is designed to balance itself, to check those who try to seize unilateral control. I seriously doubt that Congress and the Supreme Court would allow our President-elect to expand his powers into Putin-esque levels. Other Presidents have tried and failed (FDR comes to mind when he attempted to remove a Supreme Court justice who wasn’t bending to his will). The system has worked before.

In order for our democracy to succeed, the American people have to respect the government. We don’t have to trust it, don’t have to like it, but we have done our civic duty and elected people to represent us and (hopefully) fight for our interests.

So as much as I fear for my rights as a women, freedom of the press, free speech, and immigrants, I choose to believe that our system will work. We have to respect the process, even when we dislike and fear the results.


Now it’s time to move forward. 

We woke up this morning, the day after what may have been the most important election of our lifetimes, and the world had not ended. Who we are and what we believe has not changed. Emotions are high, people are scared and angry (the Canadian immigration website crashed last night). My Facebook feed is full of fear and outrage and anger. And in it, messages of encouragement and love stand out.

So let’s focus on the good.

Let’s be positive and optimistic. Let’s stay (or become) involved in local politics and initiate change at that more personal level. Let’s volunteer. Let’s refrain from talking shit or spreading fear.

We can still be kind and understanding. We can still appreciate the little things – the sunrise over the mountains, the dusting of fresh snow, the celebration of life and friendship. We can still be role models.

Now is the time for random acts of kindness. Now is the time to show the world what losing with grace looks like. What winning with grace looks like. Now is the time to speak out when you see discrimination, to stand up against racism, sexism, xenophobia, homophobia, and hate. Now is the time to be an inspiration.

Let’s spread joy.

Let’s spread love.

Let’s be the change we want to see.

Let’s keep America great.

A heartfelt plea

The 2016 election is upon us. 

And it is, by every definition of the word, an unprecedented shit show. 

So I have a request. Call it a plea, if you will, or begging, or wheedling. Whatever. I'll even accept pestering.

Vote.

I know you may not like any of the presidential candidates. You may not trust them, think they'll run the country into the ground. However things turn out, the world is changing and America is about to experience a shift. It's probably time for that - it's easy to get into a rut. A good 'ol revolution, especially when it includes a peaceful transition of power, sends a message to our government and the world that things are NOT fine. We deserve better than the status quo. 

I don't care who you vote for. I have my own (strong) opinions on the matter, but your opinions are your own and I won't try to sway you this late in the game. 

I encourage you to do your research. Do some fact checking. Look past the rhetoric and accusations and dancing around topics and try to get to the meat of the issues. We need a president who will represent America and our values, who will strengthen our diplomatic ties, and continue to make this country one that others aspire to. 

Exercise your civic duty, your hard-earned right, and vote. 

This democracy, the right to vote, to express ourselves, to have a peaceful transition of power, is what American men and women have fought and died for. Voting is a cornerstone of America.

So please, vote. 

Vote to honor the sacrifice of so many Americans.

Vote because this may be the most pivotal election of our lifetimes. 

Vote because your vote does matter.

Vote even if your candidate doesn't win, or you don't expect them to win. 

Vote because if you don't, you lose the right to bitch about the government for the next 4 years. 

Vote because there is more on the line than who the next president will be. 

Even if you hate all the candidates, vote. Write in Mickey Mouse. Leave the bubble blank. I don't care. Go to the polls, because there are other things on the ballots. Senate races, ballot measures, representatives. People who are elected to be our voice in Congress. Go to the polls and vote. 

The next batch of senators and representatives will help shape the direction of our great nation. 

The next president will unarguably change the course of history. 

And we as Americans have a duty to this process and the very concept of democracy.

So please. PLEASE. I'm begging you. On November 8th, vote. 

Yup, I'm doing nothing

The job search continues. Over the last couple months, I've sent out way too many emails, had a couple interviews, and become unfortunately familiar with the refrain 'We would be very interested in bringing you on. However, we don't have enough work right now. We'll let you know as soon as things pick up.'

Stupid economy.

I'm pretty sure the whole point of grad school was to make myself uber-employable so finding a job would be easy. How naive I was. I forgot to factor in the falling oil prices decimating the available funds in Alaska.

Holy crap, unemployment is boring.

On the plus side, I've been able to relax and do basically whatever I want. There's been a lot of climbing, running, and more reading than I've had time for in who knows how long. So that's a perk. I've also been able to do travelling and plan trips to visit my grandparents and go to a couple weddings. Granted, funding them is a bit... let's say challenging, but I don't know when I'll be this flexible again. Might as well take advantage of it. 

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A couple weeks ago Ev, Colin and I ran the Equinox relay. We managed to make up a team of fantastic, slightly messed-up individuals, so we obviously called ourselves Mostly Broken. We have shirts and everything. 

Between Ev's knees, my ankles, and Colin getting himself charbroiled in a propane explosion, we're pretty much awesome. And apparently inspiring. Enough that Colin got himself mentioned in the newspaper. Apparently our team name was cheeky. And we all average around a 10 minute mile, which was pretty sweet. So go us. Next year, I'll do the full marathon and get the big-boy shirt.

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So yeah. Life update. Thrilling stuff. Stay tuned for something more interesting at some point. It'll come. Probably. 

Risk and Reward: a few more perspectives

My last post on the risks taken by people, be it climbers, NASCAR drivers, alpinists, or runners, brought out a lot of comments and stories from people. Because everyone evaluates risk differently, I thought I would share some of the perspectives. 

An important consideration when discussing this stuff is that everyone is entitled to their perspective. Many people feel that climbing and whitewater rafting entail risks they're not willing to accept - they're too dangerous to be worth it. It irritates me when people project their aversion to something onto others, trying to convince them to change their ways or that they're being stupid and taking unnecessary risks. But at the same time, those of us willing to accept higher risks shouldn't try to push our level of risk acceptance onto anyone else. Everyone wants different things. Respect is a two way street.

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Iris

Yet another friend had a near-death experience whitewater kayaking this past summer. Iris had what she describes as a 'really bad whitewater swim' shortly after moving to Juneau. In her words:

'A local packrafter was looking for a partner to run a glacier river here. I wanted to get out too, and didn’t have any personal experience with local rivers, so we went together. He had run the river a few times before with no issues, noting that it is mostly bouncy class 2+ with some class 3 in one section. We were planning to walk the class 3 section due to my shoulder issues (Iris has some long-standing back and shoulder injuries that have required surgery). The river looked normal on both takeout and put in (what we could see), so we went for it.

Long story short, every marker he was expecting to see for the take out was under water. The section that was normally class three and required some skill suddenly started with a 6 foot wave followed by a large wave train and a whole host of new hydraulics. He hit the section first, and immediately swam a line to the side of the main rapids. Because I didn’t know the river, or the line, I ended up on the wrong side of the first wave. My boat got sucked sideways into it and I swam down the hardest part of the line. I hit 5-6 standing waves at least 5 feet tall. For the first two waves I swam hard at the bottom, attempting to get out to the side of the river and position myself in a safer way. After 2 waves I realized I was losing energy and getting cold fast; I couldn't continue to fight the river. I knew I had no one to help with a throw bag, since my partner was also swimming. I had no way of knowing how long the line of rapids was, or if there was a safe eddy at the end, because we had no chance to scout the rapids first. I put every bit of my energy into just surviving (breathing at the right points, staying face up, feet down river) and had a very real time of realizing that this is how people die. Thankfully, I rode them out and survived, but it certainly was an eye opener. Unfortunately, the rapids ended up more in a log jam than an eddy, so I lost my paddle as I tried to pull myself out of the log jam I was forcefully being pinned against. Thankfully, my partner made it out in better condition than I, but we faced the reality of being trapped on an island with two people, one boat and no paddles with rapids all around it. After hiking downstream for quite a while we did eventually find my boat, and then after that a bridge and a trail out, but we never did find our paddles. We walked out with our tails between our legs and a new appreciation for the craziness of an ‘easy’ whitewater trip.'

As far as risk? When I asked how her assessment and willingness to accept risk was influenced by her near-miss, Iris said: 

'Risk is about taking care of every variable that you can. Building skill, having the right equipment, being physically fit, being willing to walk away, having an exit plan for when shit hits the fan, vetting your partners, having a satellite communicator when you are that remote, doing everything you can to set a trip up for success. But if I was to never packraft again, never hike again, never ski again, I wouldn't be me. I wouldn't be alive. I would be denying myself what it means to be Iris, and I'm not willing to do that.  I will do everything I can to stay alive and reduce the risks I take, but I am still going to live my life and be the best person that I can be. So I accept the level of risk that comes with that. 

I have stared death in the face twice in my life and accepted it. I do not fear death in the way that I used to. I do not want to die - both times I thought of the future I could have and clung to it. But for me, death is not something to be feared.' 

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Everet

Ev grew up riding around the mountains of south-west Alaska on a snow mobile. He's pretty damn good on it, and loves highmarking. But it's important to keep an eye on the snow conditions, since you can set off an avalanche with disturbing ease. You can lose your balance, take a turn too tight, and have the snow mobile roll on top of you. You can get really, really stuck in deep snow and spend an hour digging it out. 

So Ev has a story about highmarking when he was younger and setting off an avalanche. Of course, he wasn't aware that he'd done it for a good 30 seconds- he was riding down the mountain, and it's not that uncommon (and less dangerous) to set off a powder avalanche. But this was not powder and it was not small. The people he was riding with saw it coming, and somehow Ev managed to not be in front of the avalanche by the time it caught up to him. But it would have taken him out. Granted, a bunch of people would have seen him go under and had a good idea of where to start digging, but getting buried drastically reduces your changes of survival. 

It should surprise no one that Ev will still go highmarking at every possible opportunity (much fewer now that we're living in Fairbanks). 

We've talked about how we assess risk on and off over the years, especially relating to the factors that go into the ultimate decision to stay or go. For Ev, he's hesitant to take risks where the consequence involves dying, which means he's less daring than he used to be. In one of the most romantic things that's ever been said to me, he's not willing to do something that could result in never seeing me again. 

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Nick 

You may recall Nick's spree of really bad times. He had an epic on Mt. Mather that left him shaken (more than a couple close calls), and a 52 foot ground fall at Grapefruit Rocks in April 2015. When he came back from Mt. Mather: round 1, he was more shaken than I'd ever heard him and freely admitted that they pretty much walked away unhurt because they used up all their luck. A few weeks ago, he returned and, armed with the lessons of the previous attempt, summited. We've had many conversations about risk assessment and the decision making that went into going for a second attempt, and Nick was kind enough to write up his experiences for me. There should be a trip report in the Newsminer in the next week or so, which I'll link to when it's out. So, without further ado, here's a (slightly edited), first-hand account of some very serious risk - reward decision making. For the sake of highlighting the serious 'oh shit' parts of this story, I've underlined them. 


The First Attempt (2014)
'Our plan was to complete the entire trip in 3 days--a silly schedule, according to the authorities. This meant that we had to cover the entire 20-mile approach on the first day, summit Mt Mather (6500 ft of elevation gain) on the second day, and return to the road by 6:00 PM on the third. Our reasons for this were to 1) make maximum use of the small weather window, 2) minimize the amount of time away from work, and 3) test ourselves and our abilities to move fast and efficiently over difficult terrain.

Our first hurdle was a too-close-for-comfort bear encounter on the approach. When we exited the canyon and saw her, she was already too close for comfort. Brian backed away quickly, and the bear charged in our direction. I stood my ground, pulled out the spray, and slowly backed away; still too far out of range for an effective discharge. Ultimately, she changed her vector and left us alone.

The climb began the next day, when we left base camp at first light with nothing but our climbing gear and a liter of water each. The face became gradually more and more technical until Brian and I were both swinging tools and front-pointing (with snow crampons) into hard ice. At this point, there is no stopping and resting. Your best option is to climb higher to the next safest place. Several hundred feet of this brought us to the technical crux: a short pitch of AI2 (an explanation of climbing grades can be found here). Not hard if you've got the right gear, experience, and stamina. Perhaps we had one of those. Yet, armed with one 60-meter twin rope and 4 ice screws, we decided to climb the pitch. Using all of my screws on the lead meant that I had nothing but my ice tools for an anchor. I buried them both, equalized them, and belayed Brian up the pitch. Probably not AMGA certified. 

The remainder of the face climbing was easier, but generally unprotected. We topped out on the ridge without water or overnight gear. Knowing how long it would take us to reverse these moves, I suggested we call it and head back down right away. Brian wanted to climb higher and talked me into doing so. We climbed as high as the weather would allow and turned around somewhere around 10,500 ft. Bad weather, no water, no bivouac gear, a long descent--the writing was on the wall.

On the way back down, we opted to descend a different gully than we had climbed. Just meters to climber's right was a narrow ice couloir that looked like it had solid ice for anchors. To get there we had to traverse a steep snow slope, which took some time. The rappels were slow and short--only 30 meters each. We weren't moving fast enough and we both know it. After several rappels, I heard the ominous sound of a slab release. When I looked up I saw the avalanche accelerating towards Brian. When it hit him, it knocked a tool out of his hand and then continued toward me. The slope was steep enough and we were anchored well enough to the rope that it didn't cause us any harm, or knock us off the mountain. We abandoned our descent strategy immediately and began simul-climbing down the couloir. We were desperately thirsty, too. Sometimes I was able to press my lips into the melting ice and draw out enough water the wet the inside of my mouth.

With only 4 ice screws, the process was a little wonky. Brian would slide the screws down the rope to me and I would place them, about 1 every 30 meters. Soon, we reached the bottom of the ice couloir, where it joined up with our ascent route. As we were putting the rope away, a shotgun blast of rock whizzed over our heads. For a few seconds we dodged them until we realized it wasn't going to get any better. Grabbing the rope, we made a fast dash for cover. The remainder of the descent was done unroped and rather hastily. Hearts were pounding and the adrenaline was flowing. Reaching the relative safety of the cirque was a profound relief.'

There were a lot of things that went wrong here, and some of them involved risks that really couldn't be controlled. But the decisions to go for a speed-ascent, not bring enough supplies, and, most importantly, choosing to continue to climb when it was clear food, water, and light were going to become issues, were made knowing they increased the overall risk factor. They knew the risks of these choices, and chose to go for it anyway. It just happened to backfire, and nature conspired against them. The trip could have had much more serious consequences, and Nick scared the crap out of all of us when he relayed the tale.

The Second Attempt (2016)
Given the almost-disaster that was the first attempt at Mt. Mather, Nick adjusted his plan for their second attempt. The multiple near-misses couldn't be taken lightly, and lots of time was spent discussing and analysing what went wrong. In his words, 

'Trying to repeat a climb fraught with danger didn't make sense without a monumental change in strategy.'

Because Nick's a smart dude, they made several changes for this attempt, including allowing more time for the approach, bringing more ice screws, snow pickets, and a longer rope, as well as ice crampons. They decided to bivouac on the climb, bring an in-reach device for emergency communication, descend the same route of ascent, avoiding the shooting gallery encountered in round 1, wait for an ideal weather window, and establish a turnaround time. To minimise chances of encountering rock and ice fall, they decided to climb the face in the earliest daylight hours. Basically, the major problems encountered in the first approach (insufficient gear and food, not enough time, poor descent choice, rockfall, and avalanche) were mitigated to the greatest extent possible.

'The second attempt went almost perfectly to plan. Where things started to go off the rails was on the descent, again. The technical portion went fine, but it is when we unroped and tried navigating the maze of scree-filled gullies that we got lost. The first three attempts led us to cliffs, so there was significant backtracking, traversing, and head scratching. We ended up finding a way down, but it was in a gully right below "the shooting gallery". We were almost down when a golf ball sized rock blasted my left arm, rendering it basically unusable for the rest of the day. By 3:00 PM that day we were off the mountain and to the relative safety of the cirque. Other than a minor bear detour on the return trip, everything else was smooth sailing and we were happy to have had the success that we did.'

For Nick, the appeal of mountaineering is the combination of a wide range of technical skills, physical ability, experiences, and decision making tactics that make for a rich and fulfilling experience in some of the most beautiful and untouched parts of the world. It allows a combination of hobbies, including running, backpacking, ice climbing, skiing, and winter camping. And you can't launch into it without paying your dues up front - an aspect that appeals to him. 

Remember that jar of luck and jar of skill analogy? Nick elaborated a bit more, saying:

'Most people who climb can probably relate to this statement. However, most with a scientific background realize that this is not really true. Luck (which really refers to probability) doesn't have a memory. Luck doesn't care how long you've climbed. If you are a total beginner and put yourself in a dangerous situation, you can ABSOLUTELY get hurt.'

As far as assessing risk? Nick says:

'It is important to understand how risk and consequence play into decision making. Experienced climbers are always asking "what is the risk?", which is another way of evaluating "probability". What are the chances of something happening? The second, and equally important question, is "what are the consequences?" What will happen to me or my partner if it DOES occur? Mountaineering certainly entails a lot of "low risk / high consequence" activity, such as walking a knife edge ridge with a 2000-ft drop on either side. You'd really have to jump off to take a fall, but if you do, it's "lights out". Perhaps less obvious are the "high risk / low consequence" activities, such as walking across a sketchy snow bridge while properly roped to a team. You may poke through, but you probably won't go anywhere if you do. Staying safe is a constant game of mentally walking through these possibilities. 

Most of the real accidents that have happened to myself and my friends were ones that came out of nowhere. I don't know of many stories where you are face to face with the danger and then it strikes. The real accidents are the sleeping dragon of an avalanche, a rogue rock that comes out of nowhere, or a thousand-year-old hold that breaks when rock climbing (That's a whole other story as well, isn't it). 

Maybe the most difficult question to answer is, "why do it"? A wise old climber once said "If you have to ask the question, you will never understand the answer in the first place." Certainly, the simple act of getting out of bed exposes you to risk. Driving your car to work does as well. We could certainly safeguard our lives and spend our resources padding the corners and sharp edges. But the biggest risk in doing that, to me, is in not living a life that can be looked back on with nostalgia, wisdom, and satisfaction.'

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I realise this is yet another really long post that probably boarders on preachy. As someone who loves to push their limits and has a stubborn streak a mile wide, how others analyse risk and decide what is and isn't worth it intrigues me. The steps taken to reduce the risk for the next attempt, the external factors that cause you to reduce the risk you're willing to accept, the event that makes you re-evaluate and walk away... learning what makes others tick influences my decision making. 

Basically, there's no need to shy away from risk, but you have to be smart about the ones you accept. 

And seriously, guys. Don't try to make other people accept the same risks you do. It's rude. 

Plus, you end up with more people in the isolated, pristine haven, which kinda defeats the point.