Every Saturday, we’ll be posting a new illustration by David Lester. The Mecca Normal guitarist is visually documenting people, places and events from his band’s 29-year run, with text by vocalist Jean Smith.
Sitting at the Water Shed Grill beside the Squamish River, eating spectacularly seared tuna, we talk about the hike. Basically, I climbed up a rocky slope and became uncomfortable. We can call this fear. I was afraid. Frightened. Scared. A vertigo-panic-fear thing. Whatever. Continuing upward, I was unprepared for being at the top of a cliff where I was even more uncomfortable. I was unprepared because Craig didn’t tell me what was at the top and the grade of the slope prevented me from seeing what was there. I don’t know the various factors that would lead me to believe that one type of terrain indicates what might be at the top, so I wasn’t visualizing what was there. At all. I was in follow and trust mode. 100 percent. I should ask myself why I do that. Why do I trust people?
Craig believes, as I was informed later, that we should all push ourselves beyond our comfort zone. I wanted to go for a hike to feel away from the city, in the woods—to feel what I wanted to feel—peaceful, soothed, happy. He likes to dabble in comfort zones. Maybe what he really likes to do is push other people out of theirs. That’s his idea of fun, I guess. He looked pretty happy with himself; well within his comfort zone as absolute authority on hiking (and beyond). I felt weak and vulnerable. A failure.
He will retire in six years from the job he’s had for 20 years. I am unemployed—experiencing plenty of comfort zone annihilation on an ongoing basis. I go to the woods to forget about how far I am outside my comfort zone on a regular basis.
In a post-hike email, he said he likes to take newbies out there: “It’s like watching little kids experiencing super-cool things for the first time.”
Right. I’m a little kid, totally new on the planet. Clap-clap-clap my tiny hands.
Anyway, that’s not what we talked about. It wasn’t like I was up there shrieking for half an hour. I sat on a rock for a few minutes before making my way down, which took me a while to get started because I was scared. I stood looking at the rock I needed to put my foot on, and it took me maybe 45 seconds to make myself do that. Big deal. I didn’t cry or scream or go psycho. I’m afraid of heights. I experienced fear and waited for it to go away. I kept Craig posted, telling him I would be fine in a few minutes.
to be continued
“Drive At,” from The Eagle & The Poodle (Matador, 1996; Smarten UP!, 2009) (download):
