We met up with Patrick Rizzo, a wholehearted nature lover who is currently working for the National Parks Service. He lives in King’s Canyon in a little cabin during his on-season in the summer and roams around adventuring in a blue VW van the rest of the year. Patrick loves the natural world down to his bones and he never stops expressing his reverence of trees, clouds, mountains and wild creatures. We hiked, swam, looked, listened, felt sad, felt glad, felt sleepy and hung out in big trees all over the Park.
Hanging out in the forest
In addition to being a naturalist, Patrick is a pretty awesome downhill skateboarder. He picked it up as a kid growing up in Berkeley, and was just involved in the Sector 9 presented film “Second Nature,” a must-see for anyone who digs skateboarding, romping around in the outdoors or blue suits.
There’s a feeling I used to have on the road sometimes, whether I was traveling an hour or ten, alone or with friends. Every time I got out of the car, after every gas station or rest stop, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I left something behind. I would compulsively check and recheck my belongings, haunted by some unaccountable loss…
Of all the beautiful places we were hoping to see, the promise of the Pacific Ocean was the most exciting.
We were all half-mad from the anticipation of it. Allie kept threatening to walk straight in and disappear. Around every curve I could see it, the sky teasing me, affecting a mirage of endless saline blue.
It wasn’t until my second day in California that I finally saw it. I’d taken a day down to Malibu while Allie and Greer stayed on in Ventura, eventually making their way to Santa Barbara. Our first mission in California was to collect ourselves and reorganize, heal a little bit from the scorch of the desert.
Shadow ladies on the beach
Especially after surviving Las Vegas, the cool ocean air was delicious -so sweet I could taste it on my lips. The way California smells is incredibly intoxicating, salt and citrus and earth bottled up in ozone. We had to soak it up while it lasted – after Ventura we go inland to King’s Canyon, on the hunt for big trees and Patrick Rizzo, downhill skateboarder and National Park Service enthusiast.
Somehow, at the end of the first week of our project about simple living, we found ourselves headed to Las Vegas. We’d spent the last few nights in Utah’s Maple Canyon, talking to and climbing with Spencer McCroskey, proud dirt-bag and all-around good guy. Our next destination was Ventura, CA, and we had resigned ourselves to the fact that eleven hours of towing our Airstream through the desert was too long. And wouldn’t you know, there in the smack-dab middle of the route–Vegas…
Recently around a campfire, the conversation turned to the state of the world, as campfire conversation is bound to do. We six young and healthy friends argued, raised our voices and felt the blood rise in our cheeks. Our muscles were sore from a day spent climbing in a beautifully formed crag in Utah, and it felt good to sit and rest our bones….
Our first night in Maple Canyon found us tired and road-worn. Our Garmin GPS (or just Garmin, as we call her; i.e. “Be quiet Garmin.”) had taken us on the scenic route through acres of farmland and fields of goats, cattle, sheep and even one plot of about a hundred little llamas. After Moab, Central Utah seemed exotic, with its grassy lushness and pastoral beauty. We must have seemed pretty exotic as well, because the good people of the Beehive State stared at us wherever we went.
Anyway, we were in Maple Canyon to connect with Spencer McCroskey, a proud dirt-bag climber and, as luck would have it, excellent camp chef. Spencer graduated from Fort Lewis College like Allie and Greer, though we could never quite figure out how we knew him. Our closest guess was a sort of fraternal bond between he and Allie – they had both, at separate times, lived in the same house on historic 3rd Ave.
Spencer lives in Las Vegas now and makes his money rigging lights. He escapes the city whenever he can to climb, which he was doing when we caught up with him. He came to Utah alone, but quickly ran into friends and camped with them. We spent some time with him in the Canyon, and around every corner was another group of his climbing buddies- a perfect example of the outdoor community’s bond that we are exploring in the film.
Maple Canyon is a unique place to climb, with towering walls made out of cobblestone-sized conglomerate. We tried it out ourselves, with varied success. I had never climbed before, and Spencer patiently taught me about knots, technique and the life-preserving physics of belaying. I watched Allie and Greer work up the wall, sticking to the surface like salamanders. When it was my turn on the rock I could hardly believe how challenging it was, and felt every inch of the mere five feet I gained.
Greer rockin' the rock
The campfire that night found us all as friends, and we talked and ate and relaxed together. We’re heading to California next, but not without going through Vegas first – luckily Spencer gave us some tips on dirt-bagging in sin city.
Moab, a tourist haven infused with the dusty bizarre, is as strange and startling as the very desert. It was by supreme coincidence that we found Linus and Angela, a pair of nomads living in school buses in a river canyon. Linus has lived in every manner of temporary homes, and has a deep understanding of what living simply really means. We spent some time with the two of them talking story and even attended Angela’s yoga class at the Moab Arts and Recreation Center.
Linus sharing video tips with Allie
We also spoke with Bill Groff, Moab lifer and founder of Rim Cyclery. We sat with him in his backyard one evening at dusk, enjoying his stories of old Moab and the fist-fighting miners that used to work the land for uranium. Before we left he poured us shots of anejo tequila with salt and lime, sending us away relaxed and happy.
On our last day we decided to ride down to Gemini Bridges, one of Greer’s most favorite places. The road is a smooth and drivable downhill, but as a first-time mountain biker, I found extremes in the wide corners and spits of sand. We indulged in too-fast turns, bouncing giddily on the suspension of our bikes.
Enjoying the view at Gemini Bridges
Gemini Bridges is iconic Moab, all red dirt and weird form. We sat for a long while on the edge of a bridge, marveling at the how human the desert is – the earth’s skin stretched and baked in the rock, her bones twisted up in the limbs of trees. We left in the early afternoon with story leads and unanswered river-running invitations still sucking at our ankles, but we were ready to move forward. I felt like we’d been there a thousand years.
We hit the road again, headed north. I knew Moab had crept into my heart when every man-made cut in the rock felt like a personal affront. By nightfall we found our next temporary home, Utah’s Maple Canyon. I thought I’d never be cold again after trying to fall asleep in the desert heat, and the tucked-away damp of the canyon is a welcome relief.
We are searching for Spencer McCroskey, dirt bag climber and fellow Durango export. He lives in Las Vegas and is here to indulge his climbing lust, and I can’t wait to ask him about the contrast of living with casinos and crags. There’s a chance we might be driving through Vegas on our way to Ventura, CA – we’ll see how we adjust to the bright lights and asphalt after all this luxurious open space.
So much love and very special thanks to everyone who made it to 23 feet’s first stop in Silverton, CO, for the 4th of July. We exercised our rights to sit in the sunshine with friends, play horseshoes and indulge in mid-afternoon tent naps.
We got some shots of the area, and had the chance to catch up with Rachel Mueller, a one time project consultant turned dirtbag. She fell in love with ice climbing one season in Ouray, CO, while on vacation from her consulting job in Chicago, and was so enamored with the sport she picked up her life and moved there the next winter.
Rachel stayed in Ouray until the ice melted, then began a five year stint of traveling and living out of her car. She spent time in Asia, in the Pacific Northwest and in Colorado, indulging her passion for climbing and living simply. She told us about teaching yoga and working at a local health food store to make ends meet, and how she quickly learned the difference between a “need” and a “want” – a distinction that is simple in theory, but complicated to apply.
Rachel is entering a new phase of her life, buying a house and growing some roots in Ridgway, CO. We shared our different perspectives of a nomadic life, we in the beginning stage and she in the final.
Next stop is Moab, to search for desert wanderers.
We couldn’t have asked for a better farewell party or for more support from the Durango community!
Big shout out to Serious Texas BBQ for hosting the event on their beautiful riverside patio and to Ska Brewing for their generous beverage donation. Music by The Gentlemen charmed the evening as we feverishly awarded many familiar faces with top of the line outdoor gear provided by 23 feet sponsors Osprey Packs, Sterling Rope, Keen, Alite Designs, Pine Needle Mountaineering, and Papa Wheelies. We were delighted to meet and learn new travel tips from numerous Durango locals who shared adventure stories of their own. 23 Feet Tee-shirts benefiting the Surfrider Foundation were purchased with enthusiasm to help oil spill clean-up initiatives. The night was rounded off with endless high fives and the celebratory christening of the 23 Feet Airstream with a bottle of champagne.
Being inspired is sort of a funny thing. It’s strangely unsettling, like the beginning of a storm. The sky darkens and the air chills, but you don’t know the storm is upon you until a rogue gust of wind flings open your front door. That’s what being inspired feels like to me – the throwing open of a closed door.
There’s been a lot of talk flying around between the three of us about what this project is, where it is going, what we want it to mean to people. Those answers will come, eventually, as we move along the road and our project leaks into the empty corners that only experience can fill. For now, we can share how we got here, what inspired us to inspire.
Allie has been shooting film for the outdoor industry for two years. Every so often she would disappear to participate in some industry convention or film festival and return elevated, full of stories about amazing people she’d spent time with. One such person is Nick Waggoner, director/producer of Sweetgrass Productions. When I met him, he was in Aspen to attend the Powder Magazine 2010 Powder Video Awards at the Winter X-Games. He walked away with the award for Best Cinematography for his film “Signatures,” performed an impromptu harmonica solo as his acceptance speech and shook Warren Miller’s hand, then took us back to the candy-colored short-bus that he calls home. That night we slept five across in the back of the bus, protected from the Colorado cold by body heat and down sleeping bags.
Ladies and Gentlemen, Nick Waggoner on the harmonica.
I was absolutely floored. Nick’s life seemed so contradictory– rubbing elbows with the skiing world’s glitterati then returning to his home on wheels, eating stale Raisin Bran and musing with us about the poetry written on the bus’ haiku wall. It wasn’t long after this that Allie started talking about her Airstream, how she yearned for a home with wheels. “I could never do that,” I marveled to myself when she left Durango in her newly bought veggie oil-converted truck, en route to buy an Airstream in Boulder.
And as there are bumps in every country road, Allie’s road held some unseen dips and holes. Only a few miles outside of Boulder on the return trip to Durango, her veggie engine seized. She ended up stranded for a month, refiguring her dream and reworking logistics. She eventually hitched a ride to 5point Film Festival in Carbondale, CO, then to Durango to empty her room before her lease was up. She invited Greer and I over to share some beers and keep her company while she packed. We’d received a few cryptic text messages from her while she was in Carbondale, and were thus curious as to where this meeting would go.
Elvira, Allie's doomed veggie-oil truck, being hauled off in Boulder
We learned that when she was at 5point, Allie screened “180 South,” a film about Jeff Johnson’s re-creation of Yvan Chouinard and Doug Tompkin’s 1968 voyage to Patagonia to climb a new route on Mt. Fitzroy. Yvan and Doug traveled by van through South America for months, and they made a film too, called “Mountain of Storms.” Jeff’s voyage was a passion project ten years in the making, a trip by land and by sea. “180 South” weaves his trip together with South America’s ecological devastation, a cause that Doug Tompkin has devoted his life to. Allie told us she was so inspired by all this that she’d decided she ought to document an adventure of her own. She said she wanted to make a film about the ever-roaming community she was about to join in her Airstream, while taking a stand for her country’s environmental woes.
I had never heard of Yvan or Doug or any sort of Patagonian adventure and was completely perplexed by the idea of “dirtbagging,” but Allie had the fire in her eyes. From the minute she pitched us the project, it was a done deal. She stormed into my life and flung open a door that I had never even noticed before. I was inspired, and that day I was given license to be a filmmaker, adventurer and the writer I’d always fancied myself to be.
I hope this experience will ultimately yield a film about what can happen when people get inspired. Every person we are searching for is doing something courageous – railing against the status quo and pushing for their passion. We hope to discover what motivates them, what pushes them, what unlocks the hidden doors in their hearts.
And what about you? Are you inspired? Has anyone ever pushed your limits? I want to hear what that was like. Let us know, you can connect with us on our facebook page or here, on the 23 feet blog.
