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Several weeks ago, my friend Mark quietly slipped away. His unlikely journey started before Christmas: a result of a motorcycle accident that injured his brain. He was 31. For 36 days, I was welcomed into his big, warm, faith based Clan of a family - to cry, to laugh, to talk, to Pray, to eat junk food... Walking through adversity naturally brings people together. Strange how life is deliciously alive while suffering heartache and loss. I have always loved the adage "it takes a village to raise a child" I can also attest to the comfort of a village during tragedy. I have to admit, I knew Mark in a very small slice of his life. We had backpacked together over the past couple of years. For a few hours a day, over several days and many miles of trail, we talked - especially this past year. Talked about marriage and how to work at it, raising kids, finding a path for life, for work, the struggles, frustrations and joys of it all. In between, he would fish... and this past summer, I photographed him doing so. Just two guys following what their heart's told them to do.
Village: There's a ton of Lamberth's. Mark's family is big and full of boys.... add in wives, in-laws along with friends and one needed a program to keep everybody straight. For 36 days, nearly all were there. Staff updates with all of us were held in shifts because the conference room couldn't hold everyone. There was a Prayer blog and Flicker page started that had over 200,000 hits within a month (link). Mark worked at Mission Hospital in Orthopedics. Administration at Mission all but demanded him from the county hospital he was first taken to (they air lifted him two days later).
Co-workers of both Mark and his wife Angie donated 100's of vacation hours allowing her to be there nonstop. The teddy bear from 3rd floor that Mark modified to help kids understand how a cast works. His boss, who insisted on being the official MD to shut the machines down.
My small part came from pictures I had taken last year. Early on, I made several large prints for his room - to remind us all what we were working towards. Then the pictures became a window view of who he was, an experienced mountaineer who loved the High Sierra. Mark and Angie have a young son Nolan - who no doubt will hear 100's of tales (some of them tall) from his Mom and various Uncle's about who his father was. I'm glad to know a few of my images will be there to help.
I woke this morning to the sound of steady rain. Living here in Southern California, it's a welcome feeling. My mind wandered to the nearby hillsides that recently burned and how quickly from the ash, life will start to grow. My next thought was the nearby Sierra high country that Mark loves so much. There in the alpine air, winter has clearly arrived. Rain here means snow there - deep and pure white. Bears fat with berries and trees drunk with sunshine are settling in as the Mountain nods to sleep. All will be quiet now.
The Mountain does not fear Winter. Warmth and Spring will once again come to melt the drifts, expose the rocks and fill the rivers with spectacular power. Then as before, the trail will lay waiting to guide Mark on his next adventure - and the Mountain will smile.
Mark is a friend from Backpacking in the Sierra. He has a warm heart, a comfortable smile and an endless sense of adventure. First day out this year, we're about an hour into the hike on a dusty trail. I'm just settling into the weight and altitude - my mind is focused on the 10 miles and 2000 ft of elevation we plan that day. First river we get to, He yells "lets go swimming", drops his pack and boots and jumps in the icy flow clothes and all. Yes, I followed him in and it felt amazing. I was reminded at that moment that the destination is not ahead - it's right here. Unfortunately, Mark shared the lesson this week all over again. A significant accident has left him on the edge of life. My heart goes out to him, his wife Angie and their son Nolan.
My feet are still a bit swollen, my calves ache and the few clothes I took my wife thinks should be burned rather than washed. I just returned from backpacking the Rea Lakes loop in the California High Sierras. Here's the overview: 5 days, 45 miles, climbed 6,500 ft. to Glen Pass listed at 11,978 ft (let's just call it 12,000) and back. Rain one evening, Bear with his nose in one of our tents, Snow covering the trail near the pass and two days on the John Muir Trail. It was fun. As you're reading this, you're probably thinking one of two things. Wow - that's cool, I would love to do that. OR Are you freaking nuts! why would anyone want to hurt and be that uncomfortable by choice. Honestly, depending on the moment, I agree with you both - but I can't wait to do it again. The trip seems to be two parallel experiences at once. First is with the landscape - which dominates everything and constantly reminds that you're the visitor. The scale is so huge that at times it almost seems fake, then the boys catch another trout or you see a deer 30 feet away and it brings you back. The second track is the personal challenge of can I do this... I'm cold, I'm hot. Are we there yet? my lungs feel like they're going to pop out of my chest. What I love about shooting on location is exceptionally true here as well: things are changing all the time. How you adjust to change makes the difference.
There's something very satisfying knowing that your completely self contained. Every bit of food, shelter, and creature comforts is on my back. Do I really need this? gets asked of every single object. My camp towel folds to become a pot holder at dinner and then becomes my pillow at night. I made up my own concoctions of dehydrated chicken, couscous, vegetables and spices. If the mantra of most restaurants is location, location, location: then dinning at sunset by a campfire with my polycarbonate spork, surrounded by granite peaks makes this a five star event. I even squirreled a single bar of extra dark chocolate and a tiny 4oz flask of Tequila to ease the evening chills.
This is my second trip with the Lamberth clan. My buddy Tim, his three nephews and young Chance (Tim's son) is 10 years old and going into the 5th Grade. Before you call Child Services, you should know that last year Chance did 52 miles with us and this year he was the first back to the Ranger Station. Imagine what he'll be able to do when he's 20. For brothers Matt and Mark, this was a fishing trip - with a lot a hiking in between. As a result, they became the focus of many of my images. David provides the comic relief and overall boyish humor that is really necessary to keep it all in prospective.
Couple of quick plugs: Found a terrific resource for dehydrated food - wildernessdining.com that had many great options including a Gluten-free section, which we need for Tim. Also, met a number of nice people on trail including Jim McCrain - who has traveled the world, is a filmmaker, and is working on a 7 year documentary of the John Muir Trail. To check out his project go to theclimb.com
More pictures from this trip can be seen at my website smontgomery.com
Several weeks ago, my friend Mark quietly slipped away. His unlikely journey started before Christmas: a result of a motorcycle accident that injured his brain. He was 31. For 36 days, I was welcomed into his big, warm, faith based Clan of a family - to cry, to laugh, to talk, to Pray, to eat junk food... Walking through adversity naturally brings people together. Strange how life is deliciously alive while suffering heartache and loss. I have always loved the adage "it takes a village to raise a child" I can also attest to the comfort of a village during tragedy. I have to admit, I knew Mark in a very small slice of his life. We had backpacked together over the past couple of years. For a few hours a day, over several days and many miles of trail, we talked - especially this past year. Talked about marriage and how to work at it, raising kids, finding a path for life, for work, the struggles, frustrations and joys of it all. In between, he would fish... and this past summer, I photographed him doing so. Just two guys following what their heart's told them to do.
