thank you, goodbye!

How I leave places, people, and rocks I love deeply.

I’ve made it back to Squamish now after nearly 4 months living out of my trusty Subaru. Gosh does it feel good to be home, at least in some ways. As you’d imagine, it also hurts to be home in some ways (although the impact is lessened as I watch Instagram stories of Bishop under feet of snow). Anyways, now that I’m home and funemployed, I figured I’d do some more writing to share some of the highlights of the winter season, and help me process all that happened. This week, I’d like to share a journal entry from my last full day in Bishop - written sitting by the fireplace after a midday scramble on the rock course. Ok, here are my thoughts and some photos to accompany them :)

The feeling in my stomach has returned, one I haven’t felt since March last year. I try to ignore the feeling, but as time passes, I arrive at a day where I no longer can. I feel like there’s a hook going through my gut, and the string tied to it is pulling me across concrete seas back to the PNW. It wouldn’t be so hard, but my heart is on a string too, tied down to the sense of comfort and belonging I’ve found in this little town called Bishop. In these final days, it’s hard not to feel as if I am being ripped apart, torn between the options at hand. But every season must come to an end, and I prefer it to end with this feeling

Photo: Dillon Behling.

I’ve given life to this season and now I must take it away. I can always come back to this place, discover a new one, live a different season, but once I leave here, I will never get to come back to this season again. It’s hard to leave without knowing when my eyes will fall on the glowing mountains again, or into that friend’s eyes. Or when my feet may feel the pea gravel hillsides and my body the sense of euphoria from running through the endless desert again. But, the feeling is still in my stomach, and I must follow it, for only then can I return - no season lasts forever, right?

And so now, I must make my fond farewell. There’s a few ways I like to do this that make it easier to leave with a smile on my face, not a big one, but a slight grin that shows I am thankful for the good times.

Step 1: Do something you love again, for the last time this season. For me, this was an offwidth high above an 80ft slab hidden somewhere on the rock course. I’ve never done much offwidth climbing, but this 20ft flare hidden in the ridge became one of my favourite parts of the landscape. Scary and insecure at first, I’d return to hone my techniques and become more comfortable. This little flare taught me to move securely by contorting my body in ways I’d not done before, forcing me to change pace to moving slowly and intimately over rock, an inch or two at a time. It lets me slow down, feel like a part of the rock for a moment, and in doing so, I can truly enjoy the perspective of this landscape that my favourite little offwidth will see every day while I’m gone.

The aforementioned offwidth

Step 2: Say goodbye. And I don’t just mean to your human friends that you learned to love this season, or made this season what it was, but say goodbye to your rock friends too. And don’t keep your thoughts in your mind, shout them at the landscape so it can hear you. I promise it will continue to love you while you’re away and they’ll welcome you with open arms upon your return. I shout “thank you Grandpa for all the good times, I am forever grateful for your presence and all it’s allowed me to feel and learn this year” while 20 people stand under the boulder on a long weekend. I say “Thank you Karate for the fun times, and showing me how much more I have to learn when sport climbing. Thank you for letting me hang out, and share the space with you, it sure is beautiful up here. I can’t wait to hang out again, and show you all my new tricks when I return!”.

And of course, your friends that you won’t see until next time. Look them in the eyes, give them the biggest hug you can, let the love pass through you and into them. Don’t leave on any bad notes, and try not to leave without saying goodbye (unless it’s a house party, in which case you should spend as much quality time with the people there before you’re there. No need for formalities, enjoy your last moments together and let that be what they remember, not the actual goodbye).

*There are no photos of this actually happening, as it feels weird to document that. Instead, here’s a bunch of ppl and places I’ll miss while we’re apart. Sadly substack only lets me upload 9 pics to a gallery.

Step 3: Cue the music. Find your favourite song about saying goodbye, or leaving, and listen to it every time you leave a place for the last time this season. Last year it was Elliott Smiths “A fond farewell”, and this year it was Grateful Deads “Brokedown Palace”. I sing the words as loud as I can with my windows down, music on full blast, and really feel it. Make sure to drive slowly, and watch the thing disappear from your rearview mirrors one last time. Why do I do this you ask? Well, I try not to listen to the song once I leave, and maybe in some time from now I’ll stumble upon it again, and I’ll think of all the places I love so much in a land far away.

Saying goodbye is never easy, but we must all do it. It’s the human thing, and avoiding a proper goodbye and departing is still a goodbye, just not a good one. A proper goodbye allows me to feel so thankful for a place, I owe it my love for it loved me so much this year. But remember in this case, the goodbyes are just a see you later, I’ll return when my gut feels like it’s being ripped out of my chest and back south to the desert.

Thank you to this place, and the people that fill it.