My Time on the Mountain

April 21, 2011, my wing chun sifu committed suicide.  It was a painful day, followed by more painful days.  There was a great cloud of sadness and depression over me for a time.  You see, I had, to the day, one week prior, been tested and advanced to the chum kiu level of wing chun.  Sifu conducted my test.  I was on top of the world, learning a new martial art, making progress, and making friends, including sifu.  Then it ended, so abruptly, so violently.  The following week I decided to practice my siu lim tao form and techniques at the normally scheduled class time, and then go hike up Camelback Mountain.  I decided to make it a progressive timed challenge (of which I made a 5 minute temporal improvement over the course of a month.)  I found it inspiring, purifying, and just what I needed.  Next week, on June the seventh, 2011, wing chun classes will start up again with sifu's wife (a skilled and capable wing chun sifu herself) and some of the senior students will take over teaching duties.  I will, of course, not cease to go to the mountain, my peace, and my stimulation, but I will have to change my schedule to accommodate the trip every week.  So I've come to this juncture, and I decide to tell you a bit of a personal story about my time on the mountain.

I had been to the mountain once before, made a three hour tour of it, going off trail, taking rest breaks, photos, and just generally enjoying the time.  Since I was a child, I've loved mountains, but never spent much time in and on them.  After relocating to Arizona in 2009, it took me more than a year to make my way to one of the many mountains here.  Camelback Mountain is perhaps the most famous mountain in the Metro-Phoenix area.  On that first trip, I decided that I would be coming back.  It was such a joy and adventure.  Then the events of April 21 occurred, and the decision to make another visit was at hand.

An interesting formation from part way up the mountain, with more mountains in the distance.

Wearing my wing chun school t-shirt, and my beat up old sneakers, I began up the mountain.  It was slow going at first, catching my stride and my wind, but once the trail devolved into stone and boulder, I'd found my pace, and my high.  You see, the extra oxygen and adrenaline heightens your system, and as a side effect, heightens your mood.  Forty minutes after entrance, I reached the summit.  I was worn, but as I looked out over my city at dusk, I was happy.  I found a flat spot, and performed siu lim tao in remembrance of sifu one time.  It felt good.  I pounded down a protein bar, and a pint of water, and jaunted back down the mountain.

A view of my city from the summit.  Yes, there are more mountains on the horizon!

This pattern continued for more than a month, with one week off for a trip to Vegas (another blog, another time.)  In the midst, I found I needed better shoes, and purchased a new pair of hikers, and they have served me well.  Rocks and gravel (yes, there is plenty of loose earth along the path) make for difficult footing without tread, and I slipped, non-hazardously, several times.  After the first week, I began timing myself.  With an initial time of 40 minutes for the 1.2 mile trek, I conditioned myself enough over the course of a month and more to a 35 minute summit.  There were a couple of weeks I even summited an extra day, just because I yearned for the adventure.  One night, I didn't summit at all because an old friend called me on my way there, and I just took a side trail to a big boulder, and once I hung up, I practiced some wing chun atop a great stone.  It was certainly a refreshing night.  I even found myself summiting on the night of "The Rapture" and as I looked out at my city at dusk, I said, "Who needs a rapture when we have this?"  You see, folks, I do not need heaven, I need life, adventure, and experience.  After all, isn't that what the steampunk lifestyle is about?  Innovation and exploration?  There may not be much left to discover, not much need to plant a flag, but there are personal journeys, discoveries, and adventures to be had.  Every place, every day holds the possibility of adventure.  I urge you, be that curious Victorian or frontiersman, get out and explore your world!

Looking over my city from Camelback summit at dusk, the very evening of "The Rapture"

Tonight, June 2nd, I made my way up the mountain.  My final trek in lieu of wing chun class (remember, I'll not cease the journey, just reschedule.)  Upon summit, I saw something peculiar.  I noticed a man sitting atop a rock, reading from a leather bound tome with a seemingly captive audience.  I decided to disengage my personal music, and listen in.  What I found was that I had adventured my way to a wedding.  A pair of fellow adventurers had decided to make the grand life commitment atop the mountain, atop my mountain, in my city.  I was nearly moved to tears, for I am surely a romantic soul.  It was so wondrous, and so beautiful to see a couple in love sharing one of life's most singular moments in such a grand place, and such a grand way.  I audited the ceremony, and once completed I felt the need to applaud and congratulate.  Folks, the newly married Casey and Ashley Phillips, joined by the minister David Joaquim, are such a lovely couple, and a couple I am indebted to meet.  They allowed me to give them special mention here, in front of all of you, and asked nothing in return.

Casey and Ashley Phillips, joined in union by the minister David Joaquim

To them I give the greatest of my wishes.  And so fitting an end to my wing chun mountain journey.  I began when a minister ended it all, and ended when a minister helped a couple to a brand new beginning.  Indeed, every chapter closes to a new beginning.  Good journey.