Time to Fast || R2V6 #3

For some reason I never posted this. But I kinda like it. So here it is:

OK OK OK OK. I’ll talk about the session at Smith Rock yesterday. I don’t want to talk about it because it involves rope climbing, but I’ll talk about it anyway.

Basically what happened was this: a crew of five of us went down to Redmond, Oregon ostensibly to climb at Smith. The first day though people went skiing. Adi and I didn’t ski but rather hung out with her friend who lives in Bend and played with her dogs. Which was the correct decision. I haven’t skied in 22 years, and so I need to plot my return to glory carefully. Also it would’ve cost $150. So yeah, not skiing was the right decision.

Then YESTERDAY we went to Smith. But first we stopped at Junction Coffee in Redmond. If you’re in the area, I highly recommend this place. The coffee is delicious. The décor is tasteful. And when we were there they had soothing French music playing. I got an oat milk latte and it was sublime. If I wasn’t fasting today I might go back there. Though probably not because I’m sure Bend has great coffee too. Does Bend have good coffee? I have no idea.

The main thing you need to know about Smith Rock is that it’s BEAUTIFUL. Beautiful in an, “Oh my god this place is idyllic I wonder what it looked like before the influence of humans there were probably animals and shit way.” Beautiful in a, “Damn this kind of like a mini Yosemite” way. Beautiful in like a, “God I hate rope climbing literally the only thing you do is bake at the bottom of the cliff and yell at each other” way.  It must be said though that my body was not feeling in tip top shape, so I didn’t try any remotely hard climbs. Had I tried harder climbs, had I LED, I might’ve been more stoked on the climbing. But my body just didn’t feel good, hence the reason I’m fasting right now.

OK so that was Smith. Then afterward I went to the Meadow Camp Boulders for the first time and tried to climb Centrifuge V2 and Zithromax V2. I got shut down on both. I think they’re both fairly stout V2’s. Zithromax seemed kinda sick. I figured out some beta for the start and could probably huck to a good hold up on the arete but wanted to do it static. The landing was not good. I had one tri-panel pad that was basically folded in half on a rock. I’m debating going back there tomorrow for round two, and I’ll probably hike there today from the LOGE, where I’m staying, to check out the rest of the area. The best thing to do on a rest day is check out new blocs.

ANYWAY, as I mentioned before I’m also fasting. The goal for this fast is 72 hours, which is a big goal. I just passed the 16 hour mark, which is actually no small feat. Fasting is all about mindset. If you have it in your head you’re DEFINITELY GOING TO FAST UNTIL YOU WITHER, you’ll fast for a long time. But if you think, Ohhhhh, I’ll just see how it goes. Maybe I’ll do 24 hours, maybe I’ll do 36, then you’ll probably do 16 and go straight to Chipotle and drown yourself in a burrito (which is actually what I did yesterday for my last meal and it was delicious).

So yeah, the goal for the rest of the time in Bend is to fast. The plan right now is to stay till Wednesday morning, still fasting, and then drive back to Seattle, still fasting, and then break the fast at 17:33 on Wednesday. If this happens, it will be my longest fast ever by a day. Mostly I’m stoked right now to get to the 20 hour mark, because that’s apparently when a lot of detoxing happens. I got some detox tea yesterday from Safeway and so far today am actually DOING things. One trap you can fall into when fasting is just laying around all day watching the minutes tick by.

But anyway. Bouldering. Tomorrow. Tomorrow maybe I’ll go to Bar Fly V6, or maybe Blood Knuckle V5, or maybe I’ll just say screw it and go back to Zithromax and throw myself at it and not send it and start crying.

 

Bend to Seattle Driving Directions

I leave the LOGE, everyone’s favorite hipster motel, at around 8:00am. I’ve now been fasting for over 60 hours. At 72 hours, I can break the fast. I’ve put a lot of thought into what I’ll break my fast with. So far the frontrunner is grass-fed bougie yogurt by Alexandra, which I plan to purchase at Whole Foods on the way to my boat. Other candidates include bone broth, sardines and a coconut smoothie.

The girl at the reception gives me coffee despite saying that it’s only for guests “who’d been promised it.”

I was promised no such thing, I tell her, but she gives it to me for free anyway.

I’m now on the road, making my way through Bend to Highway 97, drinking said coffee. There isn’t much traffic.  A little bit heading north to Redmond, but that soon peters out. After Madras and a stop to refuel at the Plateau Travel Plaza, a place I’ll now go to for all my gasoline needs since they allow self-service in Oregon (!), it peters out completely. It’s just me and the open road and a Subaru who seems hellbent on passing me. Heckbent. I pull over to check some boulders, but realize their access is blocked by a gate because they’re on private land. How many amazing boulder problems will never get climbed because they’re owned by some guy named Cleatus in Central Oregon who’d rather shoot you full of buckshot than let you climb his fantasy blocs? Probably not that many, actually. But some.

I like transitions when driving. I imagine we all do. Which is why it pleases me when the ponderosa pines and the sage brush give way to evergreens as we climb into the foothills of Mount Hood. Then it’s all evergreens, and it’s wet, and pretty soon it’s snowing. A black BMW is tailgating me and eventually passes me in a lane covered with slush and pebbles, their tires slinging slush at the Subee. I flip them off. Damn right I flip them off. Why not? They’re driving like an asshole, and I want them to know it.

In Sandy, Oregon, I stop at Safeway hoping they’ll have the FitAid Zero recovery drink, which has only five calories and I’ve decided is OK for my fast, but they don’t. In fact, they don’t stock any FitAid products. Instead I buy some kind of Evian drink with zinc and magnesium, and also some Smart Water, and go out in the parking lot and sit in my car. In about a half hour I’ll be in Washington. As far as any weather goes, the hardest part of the trip is behind me. But the only interesting part of the trip is also behind me, too. Driving the I-5 corridor up from Portland to Seattle is about the most boring drive on the planet, especially when you’ve done it many times. To top it off, the Subee doesn’t do well at high speeds. She hates them. The Subee was happy back when the speed limit was 55, because then she could go 59 and feel like a badass. But she doesn’t like I-5. Going 67 feels SORT OF OK, but anything above that and she gets nervous. Couple that with the fact that I feel a bit delirious from the fast and the coffee and I’m not exactly looking forward to the second half of the trip. But c’est la vie, or asi es la vida, or so ist das Leben or however you’d like to say it. For now the only thing that matters is that I’m sitting in a parking lot in Sandy, Oregon, and life is pretty good. I’m in the process of doing my longest fast ever. My body feels supremely not inflamed, though it must be said that the recent back exercises I’ve started doing have me feeling a bit weird. But whatever.

I stop at a rest stop somewhere on the I-5 corridor about a half hour north of Portland to do a little walking around and possibly my back exercises. There’s a dude with an old Subaru with a bunch of shit in it and a cardboard sign that says something like, “Homeless. Anything helps,” and I think, Dude, you’re not homeless. You have a car. I do a couple laps around the rest stop. Rest stops are such a weird environment. Everyone is transiting. No one really talks to each other.  Most people don’t stay for more than a few minutes. I guess the truckers stay for a long time sometimes. The truckers sleep. The truckers sit in their trucks watching YouTube videos. The truckers sit in their trucks reading Proust.

My body starts feeling gnarly right around Centralia. My back feels gnarly. I need to get out of this fucking car. I love the Subee but mother of god get me out of here. In about four hours I can finally eat, but I have a sudden urge to do some climbing on the way home, and also to hang out with someone. I want to see what it’s like to hang out with someone after not having eaten for three days. I call Matt and ask him if he wants to climb at SBP. He says he’s there “working” and just come get him when I get there. When I get there we sit and talk about climbing and his living situation for a bit, and then we make our way downstairs to do some easy climbs. My body feels gnarly, but it also feels kinda good. I feel kinda free. I don’t feel strong, exactly, but I feel kinda free. I have abs. There’s nothing like starving yourself for a few days to get abs. I can’t wait to get home and pee on a keto strip to see just how deeply I’m in ketosis. Thing’s gonna be purple AF. I climb fairly easy, not trying anything harder than a purple, and down climbing rather than falling. And when things get too hard I bail and down climb, rather than push myself to where I might take a fall. My back will thank me. My back is thanking me.

Finally, after a stop at Whole Foods on the way home from climbing, it’s time to eat. I do my back exercises one more time and then it’s 5:33pm and now I can do whatever I want. The world’s my oyster, and it’s shucked and sitting right in front of me with lemon and a nice mignonette. Except in my case the oyster is a vat of premium yogurt, which I tuck into. Or at least try to tuck into. It doesn’t taste that good. It’s disappointing. And my body is actually screaming for something else, so I reach for the sardines.

 

 

Sagebrush and Juniper

I’m standing in front of the supplements in Whole Foods in Bend, Oregon trying to find a certain kind of turmeric. It’s apparently liquid soluble and thus more “bioavailable,” and it must be said that when I took it before my digestive system felt better than ever, though that could’ve been because I was supplementing magnesium or any number of other factors. In the end I don’t find it and thus leave with only two wares: a hop tea by Hop Lark, and a Zevia black tea blood orange flavor. Neither of these have any calories, which is ideal. I can’t have calories. I’m fasting.

I traverse the parking lot to the Costco section where I parked. This is Bend, Oregon, known as an outdoor paradise, but I’m in a Costco parking lot, which is decidedly less paradisiacal. My plan when I get in the car, though, after drinking one of the beverages, is to drive east. I don’t know where I want to go, just not here, somewhere without cars, where the only things are dirt, sagebrush and juniper trees. I want to hear the sound of the wind on the high desert, to not be surrounded by cars and buildings and people. This will prove more difficult than I imagined.

I head east on Neff Road and pretty soon things are how I wanted. It’s just me and a road. No traffic behind or in front of me, and the houses are gone now, given way to ranches, and pretty soon these are sparse, too. With the help of Google Maps I make my way to where I think there should be some trails to hike up to some cliff-looking formations where there might be boulders, too. But every time I think I’m getting close the road either becomes a dead end or a private road or simply impassable. Every damn parcel of land out here is owned by someone. Every sage bush, every juniper tree, has a human owner, and the ones I see in the distance on the butte next to the cliff, though presumably free of any owner, are blocked by private land. There are no trails, only roads that turn into driveways adorned with hostile “Private. No trespassing signs.”

Private driveway.

Dead end.

No trespassing.

The butte looms in front of me like a dream and that’s all it will ever be for me, since access looks impossible. I briefly contemplate just driving down one of the private driveways but imagine some guy in a cowboy hat toting a gun sauntering off his porch to point it at me. I don’t feel welcome out here. I’m sure the people are welcoming once you get to know them but if you’re just driving around in your ’97 Subaru looking for a place to look at some damn rocks it certainly doesn’t feel welcoming.

Finally I give up and turn around and start driving towards Bend. After a few minutes I stop to pee and there’s a dead coyote lying near the road, flies buzzing around it, its fur the same color as the brown grass, soon to be fertilizer for the brown grass. I thought it might be silent here but above me power lines crackle and every 30 seconds or so a car comes screaming by. When I finally get back on the road I’m immediately tailgated by a man in a Jeep who’s so close I can see individual stubble clusters on his face. Eventually the degenerate passes me, and I’m free again for a short while. I have the road (sort of) to myself. As we get closer to Bend, though, the traffic becomes thicker, and pretty soon I’m back at the strip mall that houses the Whole Foods where I was just looking at the supplements. I failed on my quest to go to the butte, but it still felt good to get out of the city for a bit, amongst the juniper and the sagebrush, even if I barely left my car.

Day Two in Mazatlan | The Long-Ass Road Trip

The view from the Park Inn.

Man, that was a trip. I went all the way to the Zona Dorada to go to Starbucks to get some kind of chai tea or green tea or some other kind of tea you can drink when you’re fasting, and I didn’t make. I mean I kind of made it. I made it to the Zona Dorada. I just went to a completely different cafe, where I got some kind of pear sencha variety that is mildly disgusting. But then again, when all you want is a swordfish fillet, buttered and cooked with garlic, and a whole lobster (possibly even live), along with some sauteed vegetables, no tea is ever going to satisfy you.

And this pear sencha is no different.

I’m coming up on 42 hours of fasting. The longest I’ve ever done is 44, but that was kinda weird cuz I “cheated” by drinking coffee. The thing about drinking coffee is that it can get you out of a fasted state by raising insulin levels, and also it just makes you feel worse after. If you’re in the market for a 24 or 48 or 72 hours fast, I don’t recommend drinking coffee. Drink water. Possibly mineral water. And maybe drink tea. Maybe. Probably not black tea, though, cuz the tannins will wreck your stomach. Maybe green tea. Definitely herbal tea.

Why didn’t I sleep more last night.

I’m going to watch like 12 episodes of Alone today.

Slash jump in pool.

I’ve pretty much subsisted off Topo chico con limon for the past 42 hours.

That’s the plan, if I make it: fast till tomorrow evening and break the fast with the previously mentioned meal. If I DON’T make it till tomorrow, still break the fast with the aforementioned meal. And then the next day probably have no carbohydrates. Stay in ketosis for as long as possible. Stay in ketosis till I die. Smother myself with avocado and ghee. Swim in ocean. Eat carnitas with no tortilla. More avocado. Swordfish fillet. Ghee.

This morning was a productive morning in the soul-searching arena. The following things came up:

  1. Why do I think that changing my externals will make me happier? Substituting boat for apartment or house? Seattle for another city? Chipotle chicken burrito for steak?
  2. Why can’t I approach the soul searching from a place of calm, curiosity and creativity as apposed to: You’re a washed-up 37 year old, you’re worthless, all you do is run and run and run and run?
  3. How can I learn not to want to excise the parts of me that think I’m worthless, that think my life is just passing me by and I’m not doing anything, that think I’ve wasted the last 10 years of my life?

God, all I can think about is this one pizza I had in San Remo, Italy right now. And this other pizza I had in La Spezia. And this other pizza I had in Fiumicino. Even the pizza I had a week ago in Lone Pine from Pizza Factory! We toss ’em they’re fucking awesome! A medium black-olive pizza, no meat, possibly because earlier that day I’d been communing with the gods at the Grandpa Peabody boulder, channeling my inner Kevin Jorgeson, my Jimmy Webb, my Daniel Woods, my Nina Williams. Am I allowed to eat if I go fishing right now and catch my own fish?

I am definitely in ketosis right now. Autophagy might be taking place. Inflammation is down.

Let me tell you a quick story: This morning I was getting ready for my morning swim, looking out at the ocean, stretching, wrapping all my stuff in a towel so you couldn’t see my wallet and my mask wouldn’t float away. I went down the stairs to the beach and waved to a hotel employee at the next hotel over who was standing on the breakwater. He waved me over. I could see some little black shapes on the beach. They were turtles, baby turtles. And they were dying.

“Throw ’em in the water!” he said. “Way out there!”

I grabbed the first baby turtle, sticking my hands way underneath it so I could lift it up on the sand it was resting on and not have to touch it. It was waving its little flippers. And then I waded out into the water and tried to toss it over the breaking waves. One of the little turtles was missing a flipper. One of them, after it was in the water, just floated with its head down. For all I know none of the baby turtles made it. I’m assuming their brothers and sisters hatched last night and most made it into the water under the almost full moon. Many were then probably devoured by predators. Most will probably die before they make it to adulthood. And then this morning came these little guys, who obviously missed the memo about needing to leave last night. And even though they probably all died, I like to think that one of them, just one of them, made it. And in 15 or 20 years it will lift it’s head out of the water and smile, and be happy to be alive.

Aka the only thing I can think of right now is a buttered swordfish fillet.

– Wetzler

Man’s Search for Topo | Los Mochis to Mazatlan

Alki Beach.

Part 1

The question on everyone’s mind right now: How long will it be before I can boulder again? AKA this is the question on no one’s mind, and not even really on my mind right now. In fact, this is precisely something I’m trying to avoid thinking about.

My knee actually feels pretty good today. I have eaten nothing today. I just passed the 24 hour mark, which apparently is the sweet spot for digestive repair. I need this digestive repair considering the amount of coffee I had yesterday and the wretched (though right now it sounds so good) pizza I had for dinner. I’m drinking green tea that I just got from Starbucks. This is my evening. Oh, and watching Alone. Alone. But at least this road trip sort of has a point now! I mean, it always had a point: the weather was terrible in Seattle, and I was hurt. So, rather than wallowing on my boat until the days got a bit longer and the weather got a bit better, why not drive to Mexico and spend some time in the sun and rehab? The perfect plan, right?

Right.

Except gas is kinda expensive.

But other than that the perfect plan, right????????????????

Actually, yeah, pretty much right, except I forgot how alone I’d be. Which of course is my fault. I could be meeting more people. And I have met some people. And I have friends in Mexico City, should I go there.

One thing I’m stoked about right now is that right now where I am in Mazatlan is pretty much the furthest south I’m gonna go. I mean, I’ll go a little further south, to get to places like Guadalajara and Mexico City, but those places are pretty much east. ALSO, I WILL NEVER HAVE TO RETRACE THE KILOMETERS I JUST DROVE THROUGH SINALOA AND SONORA. EVER AGAIN IN MY LIFE, IF I DON’T WANT TO. And this is huge, because I don’t think I want to. When I eventually leave Mexico, I will either drive A) Back to Mazatlan and through Baja, or B) Up to Monterrey and into Texas. I’ve never been to Monterrey and all the space between Mexico City and Monterrey, and I’ve never been to Texas. Not that I have any desire at all to go to Texas. In fact, I patently don’t want to go to Texas. But I would rather do the bulk of my driving in The States on the way back. When I’m ready to go home, I’m just gonna wanna get home.

But I could also always go to Guatemala.

Today’s route, Leg 7-ish????

The plan for tomorrow: Wake up, go swimming in the ocean, chill in the hotel room, take a walk on the beach, maybe try to go to the dentist for a cleaning (this is an absolute must while I’m in Mexico slash 33% of the reason I came here), drive to San Blas, stay with the wonderful familia at La Familia, go to Stoner’s or some other beach in the evening, watch Alone, write a blog post, go to bed (hopefully still having not eaten).

The plan for tonight: Walk to Oxxo. Buy Topo Chico with “Twist de Limon” and also a gallon of water. Go back to hotel room. Listen to waves. Fall asleep listening to waves. Read the book Circe. Maybe buy travel insurance. Research ayahuasca retreats.

Part 2

This is wild. A week ago I was in Lone Pine, California. I was also in Bishop. I was also in Fallon, Nevada! And now I’m in Mazatlan, sitting out on a balcony, listening to the sounds of the waves. And all because of a right foot pressed against an accelerator pedal in a ’97 Subaru Outback.

Speaking of which, I got passed today by ANOTHER Subaru also with Washington plates! Wild stuff, I know.

I’m starting to get hungry.

Ok, ok, take a step back.

Just walked to the Oxxo where I got a lime Topo Chico and a 6-gallon container of water. I’m good on water for the next week and a half, aka the next 24 hours or so. Aka I might just stay here tomorrow night too. Aka depending on how much it costs on Booking.com.

Aka I need to brush my teeth.

Aka I want to brush my teeth.

Am I in autophagy now?

Probably not.

Mazatlan sunset.

The smell of the ocean is intoxicating. Tomorrow I’m going to get up and go for a swim. I’ve been doing some soul-searching on this trip, of course. I think anytime you’re alone for long stretches of time you start to do some soul searching. And I’ve come to the following conclusions: 1) I need community. 2) I need to feel like I have some sort of purpose. Fuck meaning, I’ve long given up on the search for meaning. You give things your own meaning. Meaning and purpose are SIMILAR, but they’re not the same thing. Purpose is something you can definitely have, and I think meaning is more something you can sense. My goal in 2021 is to get to the point where I am excited af to get up every morning, excited af to get out of bed. Like, I wake up and I’m just like jeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesus it is great to be alive.

That is my goal.

It is also my goal to boulder V7. In 2021.

Which means I better get this knee healed.

Which means I better get some rest.

– W