Tonsai - A Slice of Paradise

As I sit in Bangkok amidst the busy streets and markets, I cannot help feeling a pull back to the secluded beach of Tonsai. A small climbing community, Tonsai has no roads, and is accessible by boat or a tidal jungle trek. We discovered this place on another travel blog, which recommended it for cheaper lodging than it's close neighbor, Railay. And cheaper it was. Lodging, food, shopping and the like are half the price in Tonsai. A true dirtbag location. But the best part is the population. A mere 10 minute trek away, and you escape the tourist mentality and crowds. Instead, you are surrounded by laid back climber types, hippies and locals who are happy to get to know the travelers. The location is also center to some of the best climbing. Guide books can be found at climbing shops, or are included with gear rentals.

Each morning, you can walk down to Chai's Pyramid and lay among the floor pillows, sipping coffee, and making new friends and climbing partners. Everyone is laid back, asking your plans for the day, getting to know you, sharing fun stories.

It only took a few hours here for Sam and I to make new friends. First, the talk of my military career led me to meet Katelyn, a fellow veteran. A quick swapping of stories and we learned we shares a similar platform and had been deployed together on both my Qatar and Japan deployments. She also introduced us to a fellow 'hamster, Daniel, who had just moved to Bellingham a few months prior and was spending a few months in Thailand climbing and diving. Small world it is.

Sam and I signed up for a Deep Water Soloing trip with Base Camp for the following day, my birthday, and then set out to trek back to Railay where the only ATM exists. We quickly realized how special Tonsai was, away from the hustle and bustle of tourists, expensive shops and gimmicks. It took only moments for me to realize I did not want to leave Tonsai. Each person or group we chatted with confessed they had originally planned only a few days, but that they had soon been lured into extending their stay. It is tough to leave such a place.

Our Deep Water Solo trip was amazing. For just 800 Baht (about $25) we got a boat tour, a full day of climbing, lunch, and new friends! Not to mention the laughs. I knew I had found my place on this trip. Base Camp guides are all very funny and kind, dishing out appropriate beta and jokes. Even better, we got to support local Tonsai business. They also have a project, the THAItanium Project, which supports replacing unsafe bolts with titanium. The guidebooks are good about labeling which are safe, old, new etc. Red glue indicated the newer bolts. There is no shortage of climbers to help guide you though. I only brought my harness, shoes and ATC and had no problem finding partners with gear.

I do advise being careful about climbing lingo. It seems every single climb I did or saw suffered from crosstalk and too-similar of commands. For instance, everyone says "Safe" when secured, but it sounds like "take" from the base of the climbs. Combine this with the fact that nobody uses names with their commands, and it was common to see belayers "take" their leader right off the wall. Personally, I asked my partners to say "secure" and encouraged the use of names with commands. Especially given the lack of helmets and vertical rock. (Most climbs use various stalactites, and a fall would almost guarantee a good bounce off various features)

Laki, the cake lady who gave me free cake for my birthday

The week continued in a blur. It's the quiet moments that I miss the most. The quiet jangle of quickdraws past my bungalow in the early morning light. Friendly banter at Chai's over coffee. Cultural lessons from fellow travelers. Hunting for sea shells on Tonsai Beach at sunset. The smiles and greetings of the locals, who only take one encounter to remember your name. Lazy moments in the TV room at Mambo, tired bodies spread about, resting after the days adventures. The monkeys songs.

It was all so surreal.

I will miss the spontaneity of it all. The new friends, great conversations, silly adventures. Skinny dipping in the solstice high-tide that made the beach disappear, our clothes hanging in a nearby tree. The fire shows at night, some even braving the slackline while spinning flaming torches about. The chance encounter with Andre, the crazy Russian climber, and the beach yoga that ensued with him and his son, Alex. The bamboo tattoo fiasco, the 2am jungle trek (we rated it 6b with rain, in flipflops, in the dark). The unspoken gathering at Freedom Bar to watch the sunset and cheer on the climbers on Tonsai Wall. The last-minute climbing plans, and even the ones that took hours to put together. And the warrior women I had the pleasure to meet and climb with. Katelyn, Jackie, Alisa.

Of course, I cant forget the things I learned from my fellow travelers. Some talks were deep, and moving. Some were more silly, some inspiring. All of them had an effect on me, changing my perspective, making me see more, broadening my world view. And some were just good for a laugh.

 

This place will stay with me. I know that when I think of Paradise, these images will be what comes to mind.

Technical Stuff:

Our original research led us to stay in the Chillout Bungalows. It was hard to gauge the quality, as all of the bamboo bungalows suffer from termites, sugar ants and other critter infestations. We were lucky to have a toilet, spigot, shower and toilet sprayer. We payed 600 Baht per night. My next single bed dorm only had a shower and toilet. Which was difficult to manage things like laundry, washing hands, etc.The single beds were 300 baht, but for 400 I was able to move into my own bungalow. My last bungalow was in Green Valley and was in between the previous two in regards to quality. The bed was questionable in cleanliness, but the bathroom was better. I never had a sink, but other travelers reported the sinks just drained onto the floor so there wasn't really any point. I did discover later that there was no floor under the bed, but I never had any issues with critters. Every other person complained about mosquitoes in and around their bungalows, but the two I experienced had no problems (except when freshly showered, I had to be quick to put on bug spray)

Oh yea, and power is shut off between 6am and 6pm in Tonsai, making this place even better. 

There are a variety of climbing shops offering tours, but I was very satisfied with Base Camp. For starters, it's supporting local. Tonsai does have one resort, but they forced the "old" tonsai back from the water and built a wall. Supporting the local hippie community is much more of a draw than nearby Railay, which is certainly a resort town. Base Camp also supports local food (our lunch) and more sustainable travel (Water tanks rather than bottles, and re-usable lunch pails) all together eliminating a great deal of waste. Other tours we saw had styrofoam containers, most of which were left on the beaches.

The trash problem in these locations is very depressing. As there are no roads leading to Tonsai, Railay etc, there are no set trash removal processes. Therefor, they encourage you return the trash to where you purchased the items, there are no public bins. Due to this, many businesses and tour guides turn a blind eye and some even encourage leaving trash behind. You can do your part by making small changes to your habits, picking up after others, or even calling people out for their carelessness. 

The Enchantments

The Enchantments. The name itself alludes wonder. It allows your mind to wander to magical places. When I first heard it, it was like something of a fairy-tale. I am not one of those people who look into the details of something early on, planning and dreaming. I do not plan trips in advance, or pour over photos or maps. Instead, I allow it to become bigger and greater in my mind than perhaps it exists in real life. For me, that is dreaming.

On our way to our journey, about an hour into the drive, we hit a traffic jam. Two cars pull hasty u-turns in quick succession, tires squealing, accelerating fast. My mind went to the 90's flick "Twister". Why else would people be driving away in such a hurry?!

Unfortunately, it was neither a tornado nor a tsunami. Just a fender bender.

We arrived at the trailhead late after dropping off a second car at the Snow Lakes trailhead. The parking lot at the start was full as expected, it was the last weekend before permit season and everyone was anxious to knock out objectives with the option of an overnight. The hike in was much easier than expected, and significantly more pleasant in the cool(ish) of the night. I hate the east side in summer. The heat and I are not friends.

We got to Colchuck Lake around 11pm, and I was amazed at the view. Dragontail took up the horizon, surrounded by a blanket of stars, all reflected in the lake. Beautiful. I tried my hand at some night photos but was still figuring out settings, a project for another trip. Anxious, being eaten by bugs and starting to get chilly, we decided to hike around the lake and find camp.

Bumbling around the lake we came upon quite a few camps and bivies, plus we were having approximately zero luck finding and staying on the trail. Luckily we found a spot not quite halfway around the lake up on a rocky ledge. It was warm, we were lazy and that led us to skip the tent. Zeke scored a 4lb pillow which I was nice enough to carry up for him. It was the perfect night to lay out under the sky, endless stars spread out in every direction. Sleep came fast.

 Speaking of pillows, I scored this one before the trip. I've never carried a pillow and try to remain as ultralight as possible. Sometimes that means sacrificing some things for others, and comfort has to be number one priority with my back. The pillow is amazing by the way. If you can justify the ounce of weight, it's worth a pound in comfort. 

Saturday I woke up early to the sunrise and snuck away to get some photos. The lake was this stunning blue-green that seemed tropical at early light. I wanted to swim in it, but I was shivering in the shadows of the valley and crawled back into my sleeping bag for some more shut-eye. I nudged Zeke with my foot at 7 and Zeke, Roger and I shared a chilly breakfast, reluctant to leave our bags. We  both craved the sun to warm us up, but dreaded it's presence with the impending heat.

Zeke and Roger, pretending to be excited about the pass

We made it around the lake and stopped to shed layers and filter some water for the push up Aasgard pass. It was faster than I imagined, and surprisingly easier than I had thought. The idea of gaining 2000 feet of elevation over a short 3/4 of a mile does not sound (or look) fun. But I found the step-style hike much easier than the slope of a trail. There were people everywhere. And goats.

We made it up the pass, took some photos and headed out into the core. The higher of the alpine lakes were still mostly snow-covered, which robbed us of the classic view but gave us motivation to hike quickly. We passed through with quick photo stops, mostly just anxious to set up camp and start our climb. After a slow descent into the valley we left snow and met mud. Camps were few and far between as the last-minute crowds and still-snowy patches made space scarce. We chose a spot in a wet meadow and dropped gear.

Looking back at Colchuck Lake from Aasgard Pass

The view reminded me of Valle Frances in Torres.

Roger and Zeke rock-hopping in the core. 

Camp with a proper view of our objective. Apparently we were camped on recovering meadow, which was unfortunate :(

It was still early afternoon but clouds started to work their way across the valley. We made haste packing our gear for the climb up Prusik Peak. Worried the weather would turn, we hiked up to see what would come of it. The view of Prusik from the base was stunning. Jagged, sharp rock juts up seemingly from out of nowhere from that angle. Balanced Rock provides a nice staging area complete with good people and goats a plenty. It started to snow.

Our goat-guide who led us up to the climb

Woke up a napping goat. What a view!

Roger and I chillin on the balanced rock, waiting.

We met a women at the balance rock who was the wife of a climber currently on-route of the West Ridge of Prusik, where we intended to climb. She informed us that a large party of 6 (6!) had clogged up the rock. Her husband's team was atop the first pitch, and had been waiting for nearly 2 hours. Other parties were ahead of them and more behind, a total of 5 parties currently stuck and waiting on various parts of the wall. This wasn't looking good.

So much hail. It looked like a bean-bag massacre. 

As we gathered our gear and grumbled, a 2-man team swooped in, unaware of the situation. We let them go and got ourselves ready to start up behind them. However, after an hour they were still working their way to the first belay ledge and no parties had moved. If not for the large belay ledge, many teams would have been forced to bail. At this point it's steadily hailing, cold and windy. We were wearing all of the layers we had and were still cold, with the protection of the surrounding rocks and lower elevation. Getting on route would ensure that we would be colder, it would be windier, and that we would be sitting for hours just waiting. To top it off, it was already after 4, with a probable 5-6 hour climb (without waiting) and not enough daylight. Zeke and I were in agreement that we didn't want to rappel in the dark on unfamiliar face, let alone in a hailstorm. We called it.

It sucked to bail, especially when we were so close. Prusik is super impressive looking and just begs to be climbed. But you cant win them all. We had added the prospect of climbing last minute on the trip, and weren't even sure my ankle could take it, but that didn't mean we weren't disappointed in having to turn around. Zeke reflected that he had recently bailed more than succeeded in completing objectives, and that it's an important step in learning and progressing at any sport. I was digging the optimism and attitude, I am not one to grovel over what could be, instead I greatly enjoy basking in the good of any situation. We were in a beautiful place, with great company, and we were outside doing what we love. Life was good man.

A little gloomy but still amazing

Prusik in the gloom. We'll be back for you!

Back at camp we made dinner and wandered around. The weather was just depressing and I retired to my bag to read. We all hoped for good weather for the last day.

Sunday we woke up to gorgeous weather and obnoxious baby goats prancing through camp. Sure, it sounds cute, but when you hear thundering hooves and papa goat bellows feet from your tent at 5am, it's hard to see it that way. Apparently the babies were getting their exercise and the parents followed with warning groans. We took a leisurely time with breakfast, coffee and conversation, watching 3 goat families wander around camp. They would literally wait next to a person for them to pee so they could sneak in and lap it up. They tell hikers to pee on rocks to keep the goats from destroying the grass and shrubs. They aren't shy about watching you either!

Zeke is a lesson in dreaming. He has inspired me to do many adventures in the last few years, and planned the whole Prusik Peak climb. He is looking back at the missed objective in this picture, and I know for certain he will be back to tackle it. 

The hike down was uneventful and grueling. We were grateful that we chose to do the steep part as our 'up' and the gradual for the 'down'. It was long and steady, and less preferable than the quick steep of Aasgard Pass. I vowed to swim in an alpine lake this trip and made true on my word around noon at Nada Lake. I found a big rock to jump off so I wouldn't have to feel the water, eliminating my chances of backing out due to cold. It was too damn hot to care anyway. I jumped.

It was so hot we all stopped at the river about halfway through the day and dunked ourselves. The heat was unbearable and much worse as we left the forest and made our way down to the car. Zeke and I took a long dip in the river and tried to cool down before the drive home.

Overall it was a great weekend. I am glad we got to do the trek before permit season. We all have plans to go back and tackle Prusik, possibly in the fall. I plan to hike back up to Colchuck Lake this summer to score some night photos, it's not an "overnight" if it's an alpine start, right?!

Sometime life's obstacles make you stop and smile :)

Who Am I?

I am back! I am trying to get better about this whole blogging thing. And as I kick off a summer of adventure in what continues to be my version of a "gap year", I wanted to be upfront about myself. Both to those new to my blog, and my life, but also to anyone else, friends and family included. 

After Patagonia I dove head first into school. I started at Western Washington University as a Junior, and plan to complete my Bachelors in Therapeutic Recreation. My time with the Navy, my volunteer service, as well as my life as a disabled veteran all led me to the idea that I want to serve others. 

It took me months to be able to call myself a disabled veteran. I didn't even want to call myself a veteran, let alone one with a disability. The word still makes me cringe. I continually ask myself why it bothers me, and I think the "why" has actually found me my future career. 

In 2012 my back gave out. Usually it takes a few chiropractic appointments and some care, and it's back in action. This time was very different. Leading up to it, the pain was worse, the tightness was more stubborn and I found relief in nothing. The chiropractor, while amazing, was at a loss. I wasn't progressing, and each time she saw me I was back to square one. 

Months of doctors appointments followed. I had MRI's, X-Rays, even an ultrasound on a mass on my lower back. I had steroid injections. I tried every prescription pain med they would give me. I put on significant weight. I was depressed. I started distancing myself from my friends and my new-found community. I couldn't understand where I was, and I didn't feel like burdening others with it. How could anybody else understand when I couldn't even grasp it? 

My saving grace came in two forms. 

I adopted a dog named Charlie Brown. He came to me out of necessity. I woke up in the middle of the night, and to my surprise, I could not sit up. This was problematic, as I wake to go to the bathroom many times throughout the night. I started to panic. I reached for my phone but realized I had deadbolted the door, nobody could help me. I started to cry. I was 28 years old and couldn't get myself out of bed. 

My chiropractor and I discussed the possibility of a mobility dog. I was so embarrassed. I didn't think I was in need of that level of help. I doubted my own condition. I worried how I would look, applying to get a service animal. But after extensive research, I realized it wasn't so bad. I wasn't getting a seeing eye dog. I was just getting a dog to help with rare situations like the one I had experienced. I still didn't tell anyone why I was getting a dog. In fact, to this day, very few people know. It has taken me years to be able to admit to the level I was at. 

So I found Charlie Brown. Not only was he a problem child from the start, he was also my saving grace. His training required me to be up and about, and constantly working with him. His energy required I get off the couch and get outside. Idleness was my kryptonite, and until Charlie I had not found a way to motivate myself to move. I walked him multiple times a day, began hiking again, and started to see some light. I was able to kick the medications and their nasty side effects. I was able to sleep at night, knowing I was not alone and would have assistance if I needed it. I only had one other instance of not being able to get out of bed, but Charlie Brown helped me in numerous other ways I never would have expected. 

The second savior was Keri. She literally picked me up off the ground. She was with me when my back gave out, she was my Crossfit coach at the time. She sat right down on the floor with me when I collapsed, and talked with me while I cried. In the following years she went from my coach to my friend. She aspired to help people move better, and therefor helped me research ways to help myself. 

In the span of 3 years I had seen over 15 doctors, sat through over 10 x-rays 3 MRI's, 6 Steroid Injections and multiple diagnosis. I lost my job as an Aircrewman in the Navy and sat a desk job for 2 years before they realized I wasn't getting better. I met a new Orthopedic Surgeon at the 2 year mark who was shocked reading through my record. He asked me if anyone had talked to me about my scoliosis. How did I not know I had scoliosis?! It turns out my back was so messed up, inflamed, out of alignment or whatever, that I couldn't give the doctors a place to start. It is still no excuse for missing something so obvious though. 

In the end we figured out I had a 25+/- degree curve in my lower spine. My hips had been out of alignment for years, but nobody seemed to put the two together. In addition, I had had reconstructive foot surgery and had then walked with one good and one bad foot for 5 years. On top of that, I had taken up running and CrossFit. I was essentially making everything worse, but at the guidance of doctors who thought I was doing everything right. In the 2 years between MRI's I had considerable arthritis build-up, and obvious sacroiliitis. To top it all off, I had been moved from flying (sitting for long hours in the plane) to a desk job (sitting longer hours at a desk) which was only making my condition worse. 

As ridiculous as it was to go through all of this, that 3rd year was all about healing. My new doctor showed me that I was going to be living with this condition for the rest of my life, but that there were ways to manage it. I had to stop CrossFit, give up running, and change my lifestyle. I took up hot yoga and rock climbing and paddleboarding. All activities that are impact-free and helped me build up the surrounding muscles. I felt my life was finally turning around. 

Work, however, was the opposite. Being an Aircrewman I dealt with a lot of judgement about being medically disqualified to fly. People threatened my pay, and more than once threatened to administratively separate me from the Navy. I was told I was malingering, despite my Outstanding Eval and ongoing dedication to my job. I was pressured to qualify, so I talked to my doctor and weaned off pain meds long enough to fly. At the time I had significant nerve impingement and was in excruciating pain, add on a 14lb weigh vest and the pressure of flying and I was a mess. I was forced into a board with my commanding officer and other superiors. They were concerned for my safety. I finally let my guard down, bawled my eyes out, and laid it all on the table. I was not fit to fly. They were understanding and allowed me to continue my duties in my shop. But outside of my direct chain of command, I was not supported. 

I found out people were concerned with my active life, so much so that they went to my doctor and broke the doctor-patient confidentiality, not to mention the decency of respect. They argued I should not be allowed to be active (climb, paddle, etc) if I was unable to fly. They were so completely clouded by their own reality they could not even comprehend that being injured does not translate to a sedentary lifestyle. Movement is the only medication I could rely on. I felt betrayed, embarrassed, alone. Depression creeeped in again, and again I started regressing back into my own little world. I wasn't sure who I could trust and I was exhausted with constantly defending myself. 

Early 2014 I was recommended for Medical Separation by my doctor. We agreed I would not be fit to stay in the Navy and that, at 30, it was in my best interests to start the next chapter. In December 2015 I would be honorably discharged. 

Why am I telling you all of this? 

Well, first, I haven't really ever told the whole story to anyone who didn't live through it with me, and there are few. Second, I am learning the importance of transparency, you never know who needs to hear they are not alone. I once received an email from a woman doing her doctorate study, and her project was to reach out to people with chronic pain, daily, and ask them how they were feeling. That was like a ray of sunshine after years of darkness. At the time I was still in denial, and still very much believed I was crazy and unworthy of anyone's attention on the matter. This one woman's email changed my path. 

You see, not every disability is obvious at first glance. We are, at least vaguely, familiar with disabilities. Wheelchairs, canes, service dogs, tics, and other visible cues. You would never doubt someone with visible symptoms such as those as having a disability. But those who's condition is not visible deal with doubt often. It's enough to doubt oneself, but to be consistently ridiculed and questioned by others, especially people who are supposed to support you, is down-right exhausting.

So, 3 years later, I am writing this. I want people who know me to know my story. I am sorry if this is long-overdue to those who feel they should have been privy to this information sooner. Or those who may feel offended that I didn't reach out or open up sooner. I am sorry to anyone who is going through something similar and have hit the same roadblocks. 

So, who am I? I am still working on being able to call myself a disabled vet. I am still working on being honest about my condition. I am still a work in progress. Some days, I cant bear to get out of bed aside from the fact that too much sleep causes pain. I often am tempted to cancel plans due to back pain. Sometimes I regress back into inactivity and snowball back into a dark place. Most of the time, however, I am just trying to be active and keep smiling. 

I want to provide others with a means to escape the spiral. I want other people to see how powerful the outdoors are in healing. I want people to realize that there is no shame in admitting ones problems, even if I am still learning to be honest about my own. I want to save even just one person from the struggle I found myself in. Simply, I want to reach out and help people. I am sick of people saying "it could always be worse." Because when you are at your worst, there is nothing worse to you. I recently heard some amazing words from a speaker at school. She said "There is no harder, there is just hard." Holy shit, right? 

So here you go. This is where I am today. Still figuring out this big ol world. 

I am to be better about writing my story, and my adventures. I am not here to provide hard-core beta on climbing, or trekking, or traveling. I am just here to share my story in hopes that it reaches someone who finds my words just what they needed to hear.  

And if you made it through this novel I just spit out, thank you. Now go give someone a hug. They probably need it :)