Finger injury

About: Climbing too much or on particularly bad holds can cause an overstraining of the flexor pulleys of the fingers (notably ring and middle fingers).
Diagnosis: Partial rupture of the pulley tendon. Pain locally at the pulley, pain when squeezing or climbing, possible pain while extending your finger.
No climbing for 1-2 weeks. Ouch...

My Journey

It started with a question that I already knew how to answer. If you die tomorrow and end up at the gates of heaven, what will you tell the gatekeeper so that he will let you in? My answer was something like this: I’ll tell him that I have accepted Jesus as my personal Lord and Savior. I believe that Jesus is the son of God and that he died and rose again to pay for my sins. I believe and have accepted this.

It really started with a question I had never considered. How do you know? My answer was something like this: How do I know what? Or maybe it was more like: Ummmm…. What? The question came again. How do you know? How do you know you believe?

The aunties and uncles tell me that I was a very Bad kid at Church. I had known Church every Sunday for as far back as I remember. I remember being in the nursery and eating cheerios. I remember being in the junior worship program and singing songs while Uncle Andrew played the guitar. I remember making crafts. I remember the bible stories with the white bearded Jesus in the white robe. I don’t remember being very bad.

I was comfortable at Church. I was really good friends with Pastor So’s son, Truman, and with Uncle Andrew’s son, Nathaniel. We used to make forts next to the sanctuary and make the younger kids bring us snacks. We used to hide in the closets in the Sunday school room and turn off the lights in the rooms that had people in them. We knocked over book cases and stole food from the kitchen. When I learned how to make water-balloons out of paper I made may of those. We brought gameboys to Church and talked about video games. The first time, and probably the only time I have said the ‘F word’ was in Sunday School. We weren’t bad kids, we were just having fun.

All this aside, I actually did learn a lot about Christianity during Sunday School and during these youthful days at church. I accepted Jesus Christ as my personal savior early in my Church career. It was during Sunday School. The Sunday School teacher went around asking each person if he or she had accepted Jesus. I said I would like to. I said a prayer and I became a Christian. After that day I knew I was a Christian, but I also said that prayer each time I heard it. I sometimes raised my hand or raised my head when someone would ask if anyone wanted accept Jesus. Maybe I didn’t totally understand everything about my faith. Christianity to me at this time was being unsure if I had really accepted Jesus and making myself feel better by knowing all the answers to the questions in Sunday School (This actually isn’t very hard. The majority of the answers are: Jesus, God, Love, Bible, prayer, Holy Spirit).

In fifth grade I started going to the middle school and high school youth group. I was a tad young, but I was happy to have the chance to quit Chinese school. Youth group was a fun place. Truman and I would win every time we played sardines and hide and seek by hiding inside boxes that were stored inside closets. I actually found group discussions pretty boring and hard to follow. Besides games, the only other part of youth group that I enjoyed was the snacks at the end. Sometimes there wouldn’t be snacks.

My first realization that my concept of Christianity was skewed was on one Friday night at the end of youth group. We had snacks today. I think we had Oreos and even better yet, there was soda. I had a conversation that went something like this:
Snacks are the best part of youth group!
No they aren’t.
(Silent)

In the summer of eighth grade I went to a summer camp and was asked those questions that I started with. During camp I got to know Mark, a quadriplegic white guy. He was one of the only white guys at our predominately Chinese church. He taught me a lot about serving others and about humility and about many other things. I also got to experience something new. I had my brain saturated in Christian stuff and I started to enjoy singing praise songs. Most importantly, the camp left me with those questions and ended with me rededicating my life to Jesus and to living out how I know I believe.

In the following years Mark died, Truman and his family moved away to San Marino, and Nathaniel and his family left and went to a different Church. With my original gang gone, Church became less familiar. Maybe this was done so I could start focusing on God instead of on playing games. As I matured in thought, discussions started making sense. Christianity wasn’t about knowing the answers but instead it is about the Personal relationship with Jesus Christ. I realized that we were created with the purpose of knowing God personally. Pursuing Jesus didn’t mean knowing all the answers. It meant knowing about Jesus.

Maybe this is why I didn’t really know how I knew what I said I believed. If I die tomorrow and I find myself at the gate of heaven being asked why I should be let in, my answer will still be: I’ll tell him that I have accepted Jesus as my personal Lord and Savior. I believe that Jesus is the son of God and that he died and rose again to pay for my sins. I might add that I know that without the sacrifice of Jesus, my Sins leave me unfit to be in the presence of a holy God and I know that I cannot make it to heaven on my own works. The first part is good enough though.

If he asked how I knew… I would smile and begin telling him about my relationship with Jesus Christ. I would tell him about what I know about Jesus, about how I have began a personal relationship with God. I would go on about this Jesus until the gatekeeper smiled, opened the gate, and told me, “Welcome to heaven. Welcome home.”

An adventure

It is 8:45 pm. We all decide that it is impossible for us to catch a few hours of sleep before we head out. We have been trying since 8:15. The light is fading quickly and we set out on a faint trail that seems to meet us right at the car. After only a few minutes on the trail, we already have some doubts on where we are going. I’m sure that we are going the right direction, but I’m not sure if this particular trail goes anywhere. Even though I have this doubt inside of me, I don’t let it show. Luckily our trail ends up being one that links up with the John Muir Trail and we are underway. By the time we get on the start of the real trail, night has fallen entirely and we bring out the headlamps.
The lights from our heads illuminate the path with shadows and a mixture of light and darkness. The artificial light causes all colors to appear duller. It is almost like we are in a black and white movie. The shades of gray are extraordinary. Every few minutes we encounter a group that is headed down from our destination. The first few groups are excited and they know they are almost down. I feel as if these groups have done this adventure before and have planned to make it back a few minutes after dark. They appear calm and excited. They are happy and are congratulating themselves for a job well done. Some ask where we are going and wish us luck.
After the wave of prepared hikers we then get a wave of the opposite. The first group we encounter desperately ask us how much father they have. They look distraught and fragile. If we tell them they are not close to being done they will probably start crying. The almost do the same when we tell them that they are almost done.
We then encounter two guys who think they are the hardest dawgs ever. They be like where you guys going? We tell them. They be like, “Gnarly dude! Man, be careful. You know what to do when you see a bear?” I tell them I'll run. “expletive man, nawww man, you don’t do that. I'll tell you man. You got to all get together and then yell and make noise and throw things at it.” I laugh and thank them. I’ve heard stories of doing that and having the bear get pissed off and killing you. I've also heard of it working. I'm not sure. I'll figure out what I'll do when it actually happens.
We keep on walking and that seems to be the last of the late returners.
After crossing the first bridge and filling up on some water, we fork off onto the John Muir Trail. We avoid the Mist Trail because, although it is about a mile shorter, will leave us drenched. Probably a bad idea in the middle of the night and with expected temperatures to reach a low of 45. Besides we are already wet enough from our sweat.
About 2.3 miles into our adventure we run into what I thought was a family. Other group members thought otherwise. What I saw was a dad with a video camera. A wife that didn’t look in shape enough to be on an adventure like this and a litter of very tired children. The father asks us how far he has left. We tell him. He tells us that the only light their whole group has is the video camera he has in his hand. We all stand for a while in awkward silence. Four out of the five of us have headlamps on our heads. We don’t want to make it three out of five. The father breaks the silence by asking if he is going to get wet on this trail. We say no and wish him luck. I hope they got down okay. I’m sure they did.
The next part of the adventure kind of blends into one long night. I remember that not being very tired because we were moving slowly. Or at least slower than I was prepared to go. I also remember the stars in the sky that I could see even without my glasses on. I also remember seeing various mountain like objects along the way and us calling everyone one of them our destination. I’m sure at least one of them was. But we were calling a lot of things our destination. I also remember kicking rocks, roots, steps, horse crap, dirt, sand, puddles, and other things.
We finally arrived at a sign. The last one we had seen told us that there was no camping allowed at the summit. It also told us not to poo or pee on the top. The new sign that we had arrived at didn’t tell us anything that we wanted to know. It told us where clouds rest was, and where some lake was. None of these were our destinations. It took us a while to realize that this was the John Muir trail met with our destination trail. It took us a while to find the right path to take, but another sign told us where to go. 2.0 miles.
We were on the final stretch. Or more like the final quarter. Probably the most strenuous quarter. Not really endless switchbacks, and actually not that steep for the first part. There were however a lot of roots and rocks to kick, and a few places where the gray colored trail blended in with all the other gray things and all the other shadows.
And then we got to a clearing. We were on top of rock. Our destination was in sight. It looked so far away. 2 miles, yeah… right…. The moon was up by now and gave us light. We walked forward. Not really on a trail we could see, but along the rock, until we reached the stairs. From here we climbed stairs until we reached the end. From here we walked up slabby rock until we reached the top. And then, finally after a lot of walking, we saw it. The cables.
We spent a few minutes resting at the bottom of the cables and picking out gloves from a huge pile. It’s kind of gross actually. How you just walk up to a large pile of used gloves and try each one of them on. It kind of reminds me of finding a pile of clothes and trying it on. Or more like many piles of clothes in a dumpster. Or a pile of anything. Those of you graphic enough can gross yourself out by thinking of nastier used things to try on.
I forgot to mention how beautiful it was even here. With a nearly full moon giving us light, and a backdrop of mountains all around us, and with this intimidating face before us, it was beyond anything I can think of right now.
We went at the cables. We conquered the cables. We summated… eventually. It did take a long time to get up the cables. But we all got there.
And then, we slept. It was the coldest night of my life. Everyone else had brought sleeping bags. I had told myself I would brave the 45 degree weather with my sweatpants (fleece by the way), my jacket, my tee shirt, my long sleeve shirt, my beanie, my bandana, and my underwear. Man it was cold. This was the coldest two hours of my life, where I didn’t sleep at all. And then I got woken up by some other hikes two hours later. They were all making noise. Wooohooo’s and yay’s and then they shined lights at us saying, “Ooooo, there are other people up here.. Oooooo their sleeping bags are shiny.” I ended up getting up. The slight breeze felt much cooler to me than it probably was. I was shivering violently. I needed to walk around. Run around. Jump around. I ate some of my bagel and took some pictures. I tried to sleep in a less exposed area. I found a tight space between two rocks and rested while watching the dark night sky slowly take on a lighter and lighter blue color until it was almost time for sunrise.
The rest is all normal. We waited for sunrise. Took pictures, complained about our soreness, basked in the glory of accomplishment, and took more pictures.
We then headed down and hit up water falls on the way. One that we couldn’t see on the way up and one that we intentionally avoided not to get wet. It was a while before we got back to the car.
Half Dome. What an adventure.

The first night

Here is what I lived in last night. The place still smells of paint, at first the stove and oven didn't turn on, there are no blinds, there isn't a bar that I can put a shower curtain on, and the windows havent been replaced. Actually, not that bad. I will soon turn it in to an awesome pad.

Famous People

Today, as I was walking to get my rock climbing gear, I exchanged hellos' with a fellow rock climber. He said hi, then I said hi, and then he commented on what a gorgeous day it was, and then I affirmed it. I then realized that this guy looked a bit like Chris Sharma. I wasn't sure, so I glanced at his forearms. They were huge. So a long story short, I met Chris Sharma and he said hi to me. As I left Indian Rock, I said bye to him.