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Finding Greenlandic Synergy
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| Guest post by: Jeff Evans |
Article Overview: Discovering success through failure while suffering during an adventure race in Greeland
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Free Download - Dig It By Jeff Evans |
Finding Greenlandic Synergy
Gliding through the North Atlantic in a puny motor boat wasn’t what I’d had in mind when we signed up to go to Greenland. Our captain would peek out at the choppy seas ahead to try and avoid the larger icebergs, and then whip his head back inside as the bitter cold bit into his face. Each time he ducked below, we could hear the hard whacks of ice chunks slamming against the hull. It would only take one good hit to sink us into the freezing water. I scanned the horizon for other boats, someone who might save us, but there were only rough waves and frozen blocks for miles.
We’d ended up in Greenland almost by accident. Just as Erik and I had begun to take our adventures outside of North America, we wanted to see if we could take them beyond climbing as well. We started to look for other ways to challenge ourselves while incorporating the skills we’d already learned. It had started out with a marathon in Cuba, followed by some longer rides on a tandem mountain bike. From that training, we began to embrace the idea of doing some adventure racing.
The ultimate goal was to participate in PrimalQuest, a sort of ultra- challenge that would include climbing, biking, kayaking, and other trekking skills. After some long months of training in the Colorado backcountry, 24-hour periods of climbing several mountains followed by 100-mile bike rides, we felt ready to take on an actual race. However, before we could enter, we’d need help. Each PrimalQuest team needed to have four members. We’d have to find another pair who not only knew adventure, but were excited about the unique challenge of completing a race with Erik. We decided to partner with Rob and Cammy, two experienced racers who had approached us about entering a competition together. After checking out some of the half -dozen races that would be held in the next few months, we decided we’d all like to see Greenland. Not only would the location be exotic, but the race would be longer and more demanding than many of the domestic competitions. Our journey into the North Atlantic made me appreciate the genius of the Vikings. By giving Iceland and Greenland their respective names, they committed an advertising masterstroke and convinced many of their countrymen to bypass the smaller island and continue on.
Our flight from Montreal had taken us into Reykjavik, Iceland’s breathtakingly beautiful capital. The country was lush, filled with green life and hot springs. The capital held a cosmopolitan feel with its clean streets and shining buildings. Our arrival into Greenland was a stark contrast. Our suicidal speedboat journey deposited us into a sparse and barren land. A cold, biting wind gnawed into me as we unloaded our bags. The only signs of civilization were the short, metal-sided walls of the small collection of structures at the end of a muddy road. Iceland’s old-world charm had been replaced by the kind of décor that most would associate with a Siberian prison camp. Bleak as it was, it would still be a paradise for someone who likes the outdoors. The country is rugged and pristine, largely unfettered with roads, buildings, or any modern encumbrances. Greenland is the scenic equivalent of the Nordic women you see in the movies –strikingly beautiful, but also harsh and very unforgiving. Only eight teams entered the competition. Most of the others were professionals, competing for sponsorship and prize money. We simply wanted to finish the race and get our bearings for PrimalQuest.
The race began to wear us down immediately. The first day saw us summiting three different mountains. They were low, compared to the elevations we were used to in Colorado, rising only about 4,000 feet each. But they were hard-going, more like giant mounds of broken rock than actual peaks. For hours, we cut back and forth up loose surfaces, sinking and sliding with each step, to make our way to the top. After each grueling victory, we were left to hustle back down to sea level and take on another. Worse than the terrain, I found almost immediately that I was becoming frustrated with Rob. As an experienced navigator, he poured over our maps to make sure we remained on course in the most direct routes. I was worried he wasn’t taking Erik’s needs into account. Several times we found ourselves mired in sections that were the shortest, by strict distance, but didn’t make sense for the team. A straight line is not always the quickest route, especially with a blind team member. Without the benefits of my experience in guiding him, Rob kept sending us through areas that would be difficult for Erik, where we could have actually saved time by taking a longer route. I brought up my concerns, but he was convinced from his racing experience that we were moving efficiently.
The second day brought more climbing, followed by a long trek through several miles of rocky fields. After a couple hours of sleep, we broke camp and headed into a third day of hard mountain biking. The paths were sloppy and winding, punctuated with deep holes that threatened to drive us into the stones beneath us. For more than 15 hours, I steered frantically while shouting commands to Erik behind me. As I tore the handlebars right and left, he leaned his weight to one side or the other in tune with my directions. Every few minutes we’d go into a slide or a jarring bump I was sure was going to end with either a broken wrist or a concussion, but we made it through, barely, each time.
As the race progressed, I became more and more frustrated with Rob. Our tension was becoming palpable with each path he chose. He would calculate a path that seemed most direct from the map, whereas I would look ahead to the terrain and make a different assessment. We butted heads again and again, Rob wanting to take a direct route when I preferred another that seemed to take the same amount of time but spare us effort and frustration. Finally, on the fifth morning we had a breakthrough. The team was roped together, climbing our way to the top of a glacier. We’d had a rough night, missing sleep to find our way through giant blocks of ice to catch up with the other teams. The sun edged its way over the peak we were moving toward, bathing the sea of ice around us in orange. The immense beauty of it seemed to affect us all, replacing our fatigue with a spirit of teamwork. At the top of the ridge, Rob called me over to look at the next section. A straight line would have led us through another field of crevasses that might have taken hours, but I noticed that by veering a few hundred yards we could save some time and effort. From there, Rob was able to plot a course leading us back by cutting through an outcropping that was barely visible to the eye, but clearly marked on the map. With that, things started clicking. We found that by looking at the tasks ahead together, we could get where we were going far more efficiently. We spent the rest of the morning moving through the barren countryside at a good clip. The whole team was in a great mood as we spotted the other teams’ tents in the distance.
When we pulled into camp, we got some harsh news: we’d missed our cut-off time and been disqualified. Ultimately though, the loss didn’t matter. Even though we failed to finish the race, we’d accomplished something bigger. We’d learned to work together. I had spent days thinking Rob was too busy with his head down, ignoring the reality in front of us. He was left wondering why I couldn’t see what was being shown clearly on a map. It wasn’t until we realized we were both looking at the same terrain but seeing it differently that we were able to function as a team. As long as there are different people, there are going to be different ways of thinking and working. It’s only natural; we’re all good at different things. The trick is to pull together with those who are different than you and see if you can’t complement each other’s strengths. Sometimes the only thing you need to make it through the rough patches is a different perspective. Make a point of partnering up with someone who sees the world differently than you do, it might just take you off course and onto a better path.
Article Tags: boats, cammy, choppy seas, colorado backcountry, freezing water, frozen blocks, greenland, horizon, ice chunks, icebergs, kayaking, marathon, mile bike rides, motor boat, mountain bike, peek, rough waves, rsquo, tandem, whacks
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About the Author: Jeff Evans RSS for Jeff's articles - Visit Jeff's website World renowned climber and adventurer Jeff Evans has established himself as one of the country�s most respected mountaineering guides and has now become the most sought after adventure based motivational speaker as well. Incorporating many stunning images from his global adventures, Jeff recounts his role as the primary guide for a blind climber and then creating the systems of communication necessary to guide him successfully on mountains all over the world, culminating with the summit of Mt Everest. Jeff has a unique perspective on the topics of Leadership, Teamwork and Commitment because he has lived them. Fifteen years ago he electively chose to be the primary guide for then unknown blind climber Erik Weihenmayer on mountains, rock faces and adventure races all over the world even after many established guides had passed at the opportunity. Jeff worked with Erik on creating a climbing vision, establishing an acceptable definition of success and refining effective methods of communication, all innovative and challenging. Jeff has addressed corporate and executive groups around the world, colorfully translating the lessons he has learned from his adventures into applicable themes that can be used in our daily professional and private lives. As the audience is captivated by Jeff�s rich storytelling style, his four power themes of Leadership, Teamwork, Commitment and Vision are effortlessly infused. During each of his seven keynote programs, Jeff draws on many of the metaphors hidden in the world of adventure and brings them to his audience in a humorously inspiring way. These messages are funny, potent and tactile; reminding his audiences that it is critical to focus on creating a powerful and selfless team, seek out opportunities to be a leader and disregard the expectations others create in order to achieve your own potential. Jeff is a proud member of New York City's prestigious Explorers Club, is the published author of MountainVision: Lessons Beyond the Summit and appears as one of the main characters in two different award winning documentaries, Farther Than the Eye Can See and Blindsight. Click here to visit Jeff's website The Diamond That Didnt Shine Celebrating the Small Steps I See the Light Sherpas Bad Gear Great Attitude Learning to Lead |
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