A final presentation - the Adventure Divas (and me) taking Q&A from an outdoor crowd in Telluride. From left to right: Bernice Notenboom (skiing to 3 poles this year), me, Lynn Hill (legendary climber) and Kit DesLauriers (first person to ski from the top of the Seven Summits).
Maybe the most amusing question was from a man organizing a mixed-sex expedition, who asked: "Men on expedition apparently think mostly about food, sex and poo. What do women think about, and what women-specific factors do I need to take into account?"
The obvious retort is, "So what makes those 'men on expedition' different from men in any other walk of life?"
[photo: Eric Sanford]
|
Comments [0]
Last night I gave my presentation at the Sheridan Opera House in Telluride - a beautiful old theatre on the Main Street. I'd written a special presentation for the occasion, and it seemed to go down rather well. In fact, they gave me a standing ovation. Which was very generous of them.
Afterwards I went for a post-presentation beer with a couple of polar legends - Will Steger (US), and fellow Brit Sir Robert Swan. (Will on the right of the photo, Sir Rob on the left.)
Mountainfilm has been a fantastic experience - as well as some deeply thought-provoking films and presentations, it has given me the chance to meet some people on the leading edge of exploration and environmentalism.
Oops, must run. One final presentation - I'm due to take part in a breakfast discussion with three other women, including climbing legend Lynn Hill. Best not be late.
[photo: Eric Sanford]
|
Last night I had dinner with Paul Hawken - environmentalist, entrepreneur, and author of many books including Blessed Unrest: How the Largest Movement in the World Came Into Being and Why Nobody Saw It Coming (a ground-breaking book in many ways - including the theoretical 6-word limit on a subtitle).
Also there was Sjur Paulsen, director of a film called Loop, featuring the founding father of deep ecology, Arne Naess. Paul's presentation and Sjur's film had formed a powerfully thought-provoking double-bill here at Mountainfilm in Telluride, Colorado.
So needless to say the dinner conversation revolved around topics rather more profound than the what we did on our last vacation and the state of the housing market...
My jaw dropped when Sjur came out with something almost word-for-word the same as this, about a person's comfort zone shrinking if they don't work on constantly expanding it, pushing their personal boundaries and growing as a person.
It reminded me that it is getting high time I get out on another adventure, before I get too comfortable in this highly enjoyable life on the American road. It's great fun doing presentations and schmoozing sponsors and media, but soon it will be time to get out there, alone and vulnerable on the ocean, before I get too cozy in my comfort zone. This is my own personal Blessed Unrest.
[photo: with Paul Hawken in front of Sedna]
|
OK, so ocean rowing isn't directly related to mountains (unless you mean mountainous challenges) but Mountainfilm is about much more than mountains. It is a four-day adventure-fest - adventures of the mind and spirit, as well as the body.
Yesterday I heard someone saying that some people come away from Mountainfilm saying it has changed their life. This made me reflect on my decision to row the Atlantic, and going further back than that, my decision to opt out of the rat race and go and do something more interesting instead.
I started drafting my presentation for Sunday, along the lines that when we each look back over our lives, we see a number of defining moments - it could be as dramatic as a car wreck or the diagnosis of a life-threatening disease, or it could be as tiny as a throwaway comment from a friend, or a book you read, or a decision to do x rather than y.
People have asked me if rowing the Atlantic changed my life, and they tend to look rather disappointed when I say that it didn't. The truth is that the changes started several years ago, when I reached my mid-thirties, and the apparently bizarre decision to put out to sea in a tiny 24-foot rowboat was, believe it or not, those changes taken to their logical(ish) conclusion. For me, deciding to row the Atlantic was an accumulation of defining moments, moments when I chose one path over another. At any point, life could have led me in a different direction.
But I'm rather glad it led me in this one.
|
