January Issue, written by Clay Vermulm
Those the Adventure Leaves Behind
An exploration on the cost of adventure to our loved ones back home.
By: Clay Vermulm
Answering the call to adventure! How could we not?
Two years ago, my friend and I climbed Half-Dome in Yosemite National park. As the second highest peak in the park, Half Dome makes for a proper journey, no matter what level you choose to tackle it at. Now, my friend Conrad (which is the most climbery name possible, right?) loves to challenge himself.
He is one of those guys that raises up the energy of the entire crag strictly by existing in the space. I always feel myself caught up in that riptide of stoke that pushes you to try what your logic, your inherent, often inexplicable urge to survive on this god-forsaken planet, would never let you try on a ‘normal’ day.
We set out for a three-day trip. We spent nineteen hours of it ascending Half Dome by the Snake Dyke route, which should have taken about eight.
Long story short, we spent an epic afternoon hiking eight miles and up 3,000 feet of vertical travel before climbing seven pitches (a ‘pitch is a rope length, so 60 meters) of the world’s most pristine granite to a picturesque afternoon on the summit of a mountain I’ve seen in magazines my entire life.
Despite a section of the climb with 200ft fall potential, extremely minimal protection, and a terrifying fall I took on a shaky bolt, I felt like I’d done as much in life as I’d ever need to. Had I died on that adventure, I’d have died happy.
I sent some pictures to my dad.
He asked me not to send him pictures again.
Consider what your adventure costs those that you love.
Later, my mother shared with me that he’d lost sleep over it for nights before I left for Yosemite, because I’d, in a fit of thoughtless excitement, sent my Dad—who I’ve already cost too many nights of sleep—a literal sketch of our route and some pretty epic pictures of Half Dome. The thing about epic mountain pictures, they make things look even scarier than they actually are.
I let the stoke get the better of me. I know my dad gets nervous about this stuff. I’ve always known. He’s a man that has battled through endless amounts of adversity, overcome more challenges than I ever hope to face, and on top of that, his two sons majored in English (me) and philosophy (my younger, superior brother). As is the duty of elder sons, however, I did one up Travis in causing our parents so much anxiety by not only becoming a rock climber and surfer, but a full-time creative artist.
Here I am. So wrapped up in the thrill of my adventures that I failed to consider the way it might affect my loved ones back home.
So, lately, I’ve been trying to be more conscious of that.
I’ve been thinking about my family at home and the cost of what I do as it reverberates far beyond me and out to my universe. How must my father feel as he watches climbing ascend from an underground/cult sport to mainstream media? Super-bowl commercials, American Ninja Warrior, reality shows with Jason Mamoa — the sport now sees constant exposure.
It doesn’t matter that the people in those shows are doing far more difficult, far more dangerous things than my weekend-warrior crew of climbers. It doesn’t matter if I don’t send pictures or tell Dad when I’m climbing.
No matter what I do. I do it, and Dad has to live with that fear. Every weekend it’s not raining. He knows where I’ll be. He doesn’t ask questions, and he hopes to never get a phone call.
Not only do I know my dad’s opinion on this, but I feel it myself. Conrad track-races motorcycles, he paraglides, he climbs hard. We all know people who have died. We’ve all been in scenarios where we could have died, and being in a sport where that is such a possibility is hard on those we love. Those our adventures leave behind.
I’m reminded of Fatty Bolger in The Fellowship of the Ring. The man left behind to ‘deal’ with the Nazgul when they return to ask about the location of one “Baggins.” An impossible task doomed for not only failure, but death. Now in death, it may seem a success to Fatty. What other choice does he have but to justify that? Does he need to, when like my feeling of fulfillment on Half Dome, death seems a perfectly fair price to pay for the adventure you earn by it or for the sacrifice it allows him to make for his people and for the narrative?
Perhaps not, but surely Fatty’s friends and family over at the Green Dragon might have some other thoughts concerning his decision. Similarly, my parents sit home suffering as I adventure amongst the mountains and oceans of Washington State, knowing full well the risks that I take out in nature.
So often we ignore the families left home, as their struggles are not generally the ‘stuff’ of stories, but that does not make those struggles any less real or less profound for those affected. In fact, I would argue that in many ways, the fear suffered by those families at home is worse than those on the adventure itself.
One primary way I cope with my negative emotions is by taking action—either directly counter to them, or meant to distract me and otherwise occupy my mind. When you are on a climb or any other type of adventure, you have that sense of purpose to drive yourself forward, to push you through whatever adversity might appear before you, to squash the doubt that might lead to a fatal error and you have that motivation of the end goal. There is a truly calming and grounding presence of mind that is found only in that pursuit of passion.
When you are home, left in the dark, playing the waiting game—how can you take your mind away from that fear? Distractions are more obviously that and obvious diversions seldom work as well. Occupying tasks might take the mind away temporarily, so long as they are relatively consuming, but the fear remains, lurking just beneath the surface, ready to re-emerge as soon as the waters clear.
Certainly don’t just take it from me.
Few examples measure up to Ed Viesturs’ wife, Paula, went through in 2005. Ed is one of America’s most accomplished and daring mountaineers. He is the only American to climb all 14 of the world’s tallest mountains without supplemental oxygen, a dangerous task, especially on the worlds deadliest mountain Annapurna, which defeated Viesturs two times before he finally saw the summit.
In a Seattle Times article by Ronn Judd, Paula describes her feelings about the night of Ed’s third attempt on Annapurna, the attempt that would finally see his successful ascent of his most vaunted peak. “I didn’t care about him making the summit, I only cared about him coming home alive.”
The aforementioned article and Ed Viesturs book No Shortcuts to the Top about his no-supplemental-oxygen ascent of all the 8,000 meter peaks in the world, go into vivid detail of how it feels to sit on the sidelines of a dangerous adventure. I highly recommend those references if you’d like to learn more about modern adventure and mountain climbing from a non-fiction/biographical lens.
Pondering this forces me to look back at some of my adventures of the past. Four years back, I took a fifteen foot ground fall that only didn’t end in a severe injury because I landed on a backpack stuffed with a thick jacket. I’ve taken plenty of scary falls and made mistakes with gear and anchors that thankfully, never came to consequence, but if my parents even knew the half of that, they’d have all the more reason for concern.
Maybe you’re not a rock climber, what does all this have to do with you?
These feelings of uncertainty, dread, and fear are not exclusive to extreme sports. Adventure comes in many forms. For example: is it not fairly adventurous, from a career perspective, to be a professional creative?
I was talking with my friend Bogdan Darev, Producer at Itchy Rodent Films and writer/director/creator of the documentary Kaval Park about this very subject. “I’ve had that discussion with my wife many times,” he said as he shook his head. “Whenever she would go on these crazy hikes or rock climbing trips, I used to get so mad. I couldn’t understand why she would take those risks when she has a family.”
Bogdan and his wife have since worked through many of these concerns, but surely the fear remains and that will always be the case. I proceeded in the conversation to suggest to Bogdan that it was equally reckless and adventurous to pursue artistic professions when you have a family to provide for, to which he gave a thoughtful nod before chuckling. “I guess that’s a good point. I never thought of it like that,” he said.
And it’s true. All of us in the literary, music, film, and art worlds live in a constant state of looking for the next gig, the next story, the next contract, knowing that every opportunity is as fickle and uncertain as the last. You can write the best story of your career and, due to a mountain of circumstances that may be out of your control, sell fewer copies and meet less success.
Any ‘flop’ project can damage your credibility and chances of selling in the future. Not to mention, we face constant rejection and trepidation on a day-to-day basis just by creating art and putting ourselves out there for the whole world to see and judge.
Sorry Mom and Dad, I really didn’t make any of this easy on you. It would have been much simpler for those who care about me if I had just been a non-adventurous father of a family with a stable career that pays well. Alas… that’s the opposite of what happened.
So anyway, how can we use all of this as writers?
We can use anything that allows us to heighten tension, raise stakes, and challenge our characters with conflict. The fear of never hearing from a loved one again is as prevalent a conflict as anything occurring out there in the ‘a-story’ adventure. One thing I’ve been trying to do lately is take that story of home, that story of those waiting in the wings as the ‘real’ action unfolds, and diving into their phycological and physical states.
I’m doing this because I don’t believe that their tension is any less effective to the story. I don’t believe that those characters are any less worthy just because they might not swing as many swords or jump off as many towering cliffs, or save any princes or princesses from the proverbial dragon. I want to see that struggle of the wait, of the not knowing, of the silent phone that you hope will ring and dread in the ringing all at once. There’s some real good slow-burn horror to be mined from those emotions and I’m enjoying the exploration.
Keep adventuring and respect those who support you doing it!
I hope this article inspires you to explore the inherent horror in ‘those the adventure leaves behind.’ And I hope that nobody is dissuaded from pursuing their own adventures in the outdoors or in their professions, either. Just as fear and consequence are part of climbing and exploring, and writing, and making art—so too are they a requisite price for those loved ones who choose to be major parts of our lives.
Those consequences, that fear, are not inherently bad. In fact, I’d argue that they largely make those things worth doing. Everything worth having has a price, and you just have to make sure you’re willing to pay the price and that those supporting you truly know what they’re signing up for. At the end of the day, adventure is worth the cost. At least it always has been to me.
My friends and family understand this and support me anyway. I am eternally grateful to them for that sacrifice.
On that note, I leave you with another quote from Paula Viesturs:
“Ed’s a mountain climber. I knew that when I married him and though it can be really hard at times, he wouldn’t be the man I love without that part of himself.”
I know I’m not the first person to think of all this, but I do feel this is a somewhat under-explored topic. If ya’ll have good suggestions of books or movies that explore these themes well, please feel free to reach out and get some stuff on my TBR/TBW! Until next time, my fellow horror fanatics, that’s all for me.
Some further suggestions about this subject from me:
“A Long Night Waiting for the Phone to Ring” a Seattle Times article by Ron Judd
The Vertical Mind a psychology novel by Don Mcgrath, PhD
No Shortcuts to the Top an autobiography by Ed Viesturs
The Alpinist a documentary by Sender Films
Into the Wild a biographical novel by Jon Krakauer
The Fifty a YouTube series with extreme mountaineer/skier Cody Townsend
Touching the Void an autobiography by Joe Simonsen
Echo a horror novel by Thomas Olde Heuvelt
The Girl Who Goes Alone a poem by Elizabeth Austen
More About Clay Vermulm
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