Hand Drawn (and Hiked) by McCall

Happy March! Last week, I wrote an entire intro to this newsletter about how, barring one night, I’d been alcohol free for all of 2024. I had a whole blurb about how phenomenal it felt and how excited I was to keep it going.

It all started on January 1 when I decided, somewhat on a whim, to give Dry January a rip. January came and went and I felt the healthiest, happiest, and most myself that I have in a while. And then? I went to Steamboat Springs last weekend on a girls trip and was very much not alcohol free.

While I can’t sit here and tout my almost-dry-Q1, I can say that I felt like such garbage on Sunday that I will definitely be alcohol free for the coming months. If anyone has recs for NA beers, hit a girl up! I can only drink so much Kombucha before I start to worry about my gut microbiome turning into something from The Last Of Us.

Backcountry Chronicles

As I spend more time in the backcountry, I find myself thinking a lot about boundaries (ironic, because I’m technically out of bounds, I know).

With a new sport or hobby, there’s so much to learn about that hobby and yourself. I’ve learned a ton about gear, slope angles, terrain, etc., but there’s still so much left to discover about my own ability. It’s a moving target because, of course, as I do this more I’ll get better — yet as I’m starting out I have no idea how my body will react to the first tour, the longest tour, the steepest tour, or the weather when I’m out on a tour.

I feel like a blob in the universe just trying to find the boundaries and edges of where I can go; it’s akin to touring where I’m constantly mapping trying to figure out how far I can go, which terrain is safe, and what I should steer clear of.

Specifically, I think a lot about exhaustion and how hard I can push myself. With hiking, for example, I’ve done it long enough and pushed myself hard enough to know where my boundaries are. I’ve run myself straight up to the edge of absolute exhaustion and made a mental note to keep a buffer between myself and that spot. I’ve been overly excited and started a hike way too fast, run out of gas halfway up, and continued the rest at a glacial pace (and probably annoyed my hiking partner). I’ve run out of water with 4+ miles left to go under a beating, unforgiving sun. I’ve sat on top of the summit of my favorite mountain in the world and all I’ve been able to think is “how the fuck am I going to get down this thing?”

With touring, everything is brand new. The gear. The knowledge. The partners. But more importantly — the muscles: mental and physical.

My methodology for this first season is I know that I’ll struggle with the terrain (do not believe anyone who tells you skiing deep powder in the backcountry is easy). I can’t control how fast I’ll be able to adjust and adapt to the terrain, but I can control my physical fitness.

I can show up for myself and put in the work at the gym. I can put in the work in the mental gym too and make sure I’m getting any uneasiness or nervousness I feel onto paper and into my journal before I let those emotions go unchecked and put my partners in danger. If I’m going to be in the back of the pack for the downhill, I can make sure I’m in the front on the uphill.

In that act of showing up? My goal is to find my boundaries somewhere along the way. Where fitness bleeds into exhaustion, where confidence morphs into nervousness, and where determination turns into stupidity.

A majority of the solo skinning adventures I do at are Loveland Resort. When I’m at Loveland, I’m pressing the gas all the way to the floor and seeing how hard I can push myself and how I feel in the process. The stakes are low — I’m at a resort that does avalanche mitigation, I’m surrounded by other skiers, and I can turn around and ski down at any time.

All in all, I can’t know what my limits are unless i push myself to that edge and learn to keep a pulse on where it is. At the seat of exhaustion, You lose yourself. Then you find yourself. You return to your own awareness. I think: I’m fortunate. I’m grateful for my body. I’m strong. I’m capable. I’m lucky.

And how could you not feel grateful with views like this?

Last week, I had a couple thoughts that kept rattling around in my brain that made me feel so stuck inside my own ego. I knew those thoughts were fleeting ones from the self-aggrandizing part of my brain, but for some reason they kept resurfacing instead of passing.

So you know what I did? I woke up at 5AM and skinned up Steamboat Springs resort. It took me just shy of an hour, and during that hour I dove straight into my ego, lost myself, found myself, and felt re-centered firmly in gratitude. If you need proof, ask my friend Emily who I sent a voice note to whilst huffing-and-puffing to say that it was the best morning ever.

Artiste Break

After lots of touting and teasing in prior newsletters, I give you….my final K2 drawing. Although it doesn’t look like it in this photo, this one is another 18×24 that is proudly hanging in my bedroom until my next art show (don’t make plans for Saturday, 5/11).

Something about drawing the actual matches in this one kicked my butt — but we’re here to learn, so that’s what I’m doing. Next up: either Trew, Salomon, or Halfdays.

In the meantime, I’m off to find some stiffer and better quality paper.

To Go Snacks

🐕 Brace yourself for the best story I’ve heard maybe ever. Last year, three skiers and a skier’s dog were caught in a gnarly, D3 avalanche near Marble. One skier died, and the two survivors have absolutely insane survival stories (that you can check out in the accident report). When the CAIC went back to the scene, they saw that the dog had dug himself out and run away. His owner spent the last ~11 months looking for a sign that he’s okay and last week the dog was spotted on a game camera alive and well!! The official reunion is yet to come and I already know it’s gonna make me cry.

⛰️ Cool mountain news alert: A landmark deal set to allow recreational access to 14ers on private land is nearing approval at the state Capitol. The TL;DR? It gives private property owners extra protections if they allow the public to access and their land. The man who previously owned Mt. Democrat and closed his land accessing it said it addresses all concerns he had and would have a “positive impact on recreation in Colorado.”

🎙️ Whenever I’m in a drawing funk, this SXSW 2016 live album from Rayland Baxter gets me right out of it. Rayland, for me, falls into that small category of artists who manage to sound better live than they do in recordings. If anyone manages to figure out why he capitalizes all the L’s on his instagram, give me a shout. I’ve been befuddled for years.

💌 Another bonus snack: this Valentine’s Day article from the New York Times on 100 small acts of love is probably my favorite thing I’ve read all year. Love rips.

I promise I’ll stop saying it eventually, but I do genuinely love feedback and comments. Feel free to hit reply and give me any thoughts — or just say hi.

Bye!

- McCall 🌻

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