I wrote a few months ago about Lars Holbek, who was our first interview subject and longtime friend of my family, and his trials with a cancer that had shown up in October/November. On Friday morning, we got word from Lars’ doctor, Mac Johnson:

In the last 10 days, there has been a steady progression in Lars’ cancer despite his strong will to fight it…On Tuesday, he and Nancy met with his oncologist, and the decision was made to transition to hospice care. He is at peace with the decision. He is at home, the days are mostly warm and sunny, and Nancy and Suren are his constant companions. He doesn’t complain of much pain and the meds are keeping him comfortable. There’s still an occasional twinkle in his eye, a quick grin.

As my father hugged me, I shrugged it off. I was angry at the messenger. I was about to drive to work and I didn’t have room in my head for something so unpleasant. It had all happened so quickly. I had been convinced that Lars would recover easily, months ago, in the way that all little girls look ever upwards at their heroes, thinking them impenetrable to anything the world might throw at them.

Later, faced with the pressing need to send a letter to him by the Sunday-night deadline, I would sit by my car, parked on an unknown Los Angeles side-street at night to write my letter, and cry.

As fate would have it, my email wouldn’t quite make it to Lars in time. I would find out a few days later that, unbeknownst to us all, he passed away Friday night…perhaps right at the moment my father and I sat together drinking red wine and reminiscing about him. My father had ended his own letter, “I will write again soon. Love, Mark.” He was planning to send along more pictures and stories. I read that Lars’ friend Michael Schlax was caught driving against snow from Portland, OR hoping to make it to Lars in Durango, CO in time, but couldn’t quite make it either.

Of course, what happens/what one says in the Eleventh hour isn’t really as important as it seems in the moment. What matters are the hours upon hours that happened for years upon years leading up to the end of a good life, and Lars sure led one hell of a life.

I looked at my interview tapes labeled “Lars Holbek” on the shelf, and they suddenly became so terribly valuable. Lars’ last email to my father had ended, “Hope to see you in the spring. love, Lars.”

Since I couldn’t share my letter with him, short as it was, I thought I would share it here instead.

“Dear Lars,

My father was saying to me how people like you and himself who have lived full lives of friendship, love, adventure, don’t mind so much when it has to end. As he said at some point, you both probably should have died a long time ago between all the bad choices and follies of youth! Still, it sure is sad for the rest of us to say goodbye when that time comes. I still hope good things last forever, even if it is [statistically] impossible. But I am glad that you are now free of pain and surrounded by a place you love and people who love you.

Only now do I realize how extremely lucky it was that a few months back you happened to be in Twenty Nine Palms when I needed an interview, and you let me come and do one with you in the midst of a warm windy desert night. Little did I know it would be my last chance to capture your stories, your face, and your voice for the future.

Of course, I didn’t really need a video camera to do this – your warmth, humor, kindness, and being have long been imprinted permanently on me. I have grown up listening to you and my father tell stories about your adventures together with so much love for each other. I know how much joy you’ve brought to his life, how lucky he was to come across another person he could align with/relate to so much. You’ve brought happiness to my mother and me as well, and I’m sure to everybody else who’s been lucky enough to know you.

I’m sad that you won’t able to see my documentary, because I’d hoped that it would make you so proud and delighted. So please just imagine the most wonderful story you can think of about you, my father, and all the other people you met along the way, and we’ll go with that.

I will never in my life forget everything magical about you. I hope your atoms mix with the universe so that every time I come to a wild river, you’ll be circling in the eddies watching over kayakers, or any time I see a Volkswagen broken down on the side of the road, I’ll listen for your laughter going by, knowing you are blending with the world, making sure the universe stays balanced.

Nos vemos algun dia en un sitio bonito.

Love,

Mark’s daughter

Oakley”

To read up on old entries about Lars, try:
http://rockadventuremovie.com/filmdiary/?p=50
And go from there.

If you want to read more about Lars life, there’s a nice obituary article about him here: http://www.pressdemocrat.com/article/20090317/OBITS/903171092

As before, there is a Yahoo group you can write to if you are a friend of Lars or Nancy. Just go to Yahoo groups and search for Lars Holbek, you will find pages of love from all the different people he touched in his lifetime.

You can still watch this for now, with hope of more to come from his tapes down the road as the project moves along:

If you’ve been following this blog from the beginning, you’ll remember that Lars Holbek was the first person to be on board this project.

He was kind enough to let us rush out to 29 Palms while he worked on Tortoise Relocation to interview him so we could put together our 6 minute demo for the project.

In October, Lars was helicopter evac-ed out of the Grand Canyon on Day 15 of a river rafting trip due to extreme pain in his abdomen.  The pain turned out to be from a rapidly growing tumor in his liver.  On November 1st he went through the first round of Chemotherapy.  He went in for round 2 on November 20th.

Nancy writes:

“They are now calling it Anaplastic Angiosarcoma, a cancer that originated in the blood vessels in the liver. The good news is that it further pinpoints the cancer type so that the chemotherapy can be better targeted.  We stayed in town for a couple of days while Lars slept and regained some strength after the hit of chemo. Then we came home, after stopping to pick up the vegetable oil recycled from one of the restaurants Lars has an agreement with…[for his vegetable oil powered bus].”

Lars is, as my father had once put it, “one of the best human beings on the planet” and he has long been an influence in my life.

This is a clip that Lars filmed in a Camp Curry tent sometime circa 1989, following climbing conversations, talk of bears, and card playing between his family, mine, and the late Dave Anderson and his family.  In the very last shot, you get a glimpse of Lars as he puts the camera down, walks into the frame, then walks out, recording his image:

(yes, that’s me in the read sweater/braids)

I visited Lars and Nancy one summer years ago, and from my journal entry you can see the influence on both me and the shaping of this project:

August 19th 2003 - Durango, Colorado

I spent the day trying to capture on tape the wonderful moments out here…either eating under the sun, recounting stories, or working on the barn. Lars and Nancy are a most unique and wonderful couple. I am in awe and admiration at the way they are living – they have some trailers on their land, they have one sink with running water, we eat by candlelight, and now they are asleep on a mattress in a tree, literally under the stars.

August 20th 2003

Lars I see a lot like my father – I find myself lost in their colorful and warm stories that wash over my ears with much interest and intelligence. I have been trying to capture Lars’ stories of the river rapids, doing stunts for corn flakes, when he and my father were part of a community of wandering climbers, train jumping, old Volkswagens, fruit picking, losing friends one summer, finding them the next, Spring in Camp 4…trapping of the lives they’ve lived that could fill novels.  Tomorrow I think I might invoke the use of my hand-held tape recorder to capture these metered ramblings…

Lars had delved into Video Production himself in a river rafting project, and had sent me a copy after I left.  I’m sharing his attached letter here because it captures much of the warmth, humor, kindness, and humility that is Lars:

If you are a friend or acquaintance of Lars, there is a yahoo support group for following his progress and showing him love.

I can’t think of anyone else who has the strength of body, mind, and character to make it through something so difficult, and no one worthier for recovery.
I will keep updates here on his progress so people can think good thoughts and send love, and I look forward to his vegetable oil fueled bus pulling up on the red carpet of the premiere for this doc.

Our first interview of the official production our first day in Golden, Colorado was with none other than the philosophical gentleman, John Gill.  No practice starts or easing into these things, just one hell of a running start with this man:

A complex character, John Gill is tagged as the “Father of Modern Bouldering” — someone who developed what’s now termed “bouldering” almost single handedly starting in the 1950s when the concept of rock climbing, let alone bouldering, was just barely accepted as a pursuit worthy in its own right.

Bouldering: A style of rock climbing which is focused on a short series of very difficult moves (known as a problem) without a rope and normally limited to very short climbs so that a fall will not result in serious injury.

Here are some tidbits. Rich Goldstone and Bob D’Antonio on Gill (and I apologize for the lo quality of youtube):

Suffice to say, Gill has been an enigma to many throughout the years, and his philosophies and practices are only just being examined in relation to their overaching significance in the changing roles of climbing.  Many were influenced and many large trends started, and Gill can be linked to much of the inital concepts for a metaphysical outlook on the kinesthetic act of climbing.  Mr. Gill himself:

It’s no small thing to say that this interview was given about two hours before John recieved the Underhill Award from the American Alpine Club — an award for a lifetime achievement in climbing.  That this award was given to a boulderer was no small gesture; in fact, as both Gill and Jim McCarthy say in their interviews, it was the AAC under the presidency of McCarthy himself that first recognized bouldering as a legitimate pursuit in 1969.  That we were able to be here for this moment and to get Gill’s indelible remarks, was also no small priviledge.

night bouldering at the shawangunks in honor of Mr. Gill

Some bits of the scenery from the trip:

I’ve always thought car window landscapes to be very poetic.    But to be frank, it’s a good thing for the “poetry” of the clips above that you can’t smell this video.  After 15 days of living out of a suitcase on a tattered shoe-string budget with two boys, the sweaty, dirty, rough and tumble battle of wits/nerves/dollars/cents/sleep and shower deprivation permeated inside these windows would be enough to wipe out a colony of fruit flies (which worked out well to keep the population springing up from the leftover fruit rinds and coffee cups in the car to a minimum).

I also entitle the first part of the journey: PART 1 - Freezing, Sleep Deprived, and Hungover

We were met in Golden, Colorado with freezing, slushy snow-capped aspens and mountainsides,  having pulled out of a sweltering 90 degree southern California garage some 14 hours earlier.  Having pulled an all nighter the night before, then driven 14 hours straight from 7pm till the early morning, I arrived in CO sufficiently hopped up on Frappucinos and anticipation.  This would be the running theme for the entire trip.

We came one day early to see the rare surfacing of Layton Kor giving a slideshow.  Naturally, we went to not only the wrong theater, but the wrong city altogether, realizing just minutes before the show was to begin.  We jumped in our overburdened Ford Escort station wagon with luggage rack and screamed down a tiny interstate to the nearby city of Boulder where the slideshow had been relocated.  I thought it was fitting, as we zoomed around turns, pedal to the metal, that we should be on our way to see a man speak who developed a reputation driving hair-raising hair-pin turns on his way to the Black Canyon in the 60s.

If our arrival in New York had pegged us as ‘hippies’ (as I’ll explain in later entries), then our arrival in Colorado landed us the role of “City Slickers.”  The state of Colorado has suppposedly more outdoor enthusiasts per capita than any other state, and your average Coloradoan can be found mentioning climbing, snowboarding, hiking, and scuba diving all in the same conversation.

complete sets of outdoor gear inside the Music Tent at the Craggin Classic

With my Skinny jeans, my Blackberry, and my lack of an alpine light North Face backpack, I fell immediately into a Southern Californian stereotype (as did Jason for numerous reasons similar to mine and Max for his flip flops).  Not to mention that we were in town not to climb, but to film interviews in a dark room all day long where we were recreating a “campfire look” Hollywood style in the basement of the American Mountaineering Center’s extensive Library with 2k of lights and a Magic Gadget Flicker Box that baffled pretty much all of our interviewees (baffled or blinded, either one).

Despite our telltale Californianism, it’s an anything goes scene, and we were welcomed in to the free-beer-music-rain-frenzy just as warmly as the next guy.  You have to hand it to the AAC for putting together such a cross sectioned event — this was the first annual Craggin Classic, and I hope it will be the first of many (and maybe next year I can go back without having interviews and just purely have some fun!)  The people around ranged from funloving outdoorsman to international up and comers to climbing superstars and legendary climbing icons.  Our interviews reflected this smorgasbord, with interviews ranging from Jim Donini and John Gill to Alison Osius and Bob D’Antonio then Matt Samet, to Majka Burhard, Rob Pizem, and Katie Brown.  The only important things on this trip were these interviews, and I’m happy to say that they were amazing.  I’ll be posting bits of them very soon.

Everyday would also follow the Craggin pattern: Interviews all day, then 5pm Happy Hour started with unlimited beer and wine, followed by unlimited food, and free live music.  For young budget filmmaker/climbers on a road trip, FREE is pretty much a mandate for binge overconsumption, and thus, though sleep deprived as we were, I don’t think there was a single day of the Craggin that I didn’t wake up with a hangover.

me, Corene, and Danielle making the most of the unlimited booze

We had a brief few hours our last day involving both rain-free weather and no interviews, so we drove out to Eldorado Canyon to hit up a classic route or two not far from the road (ok, right off the road).

We did this (Northcutt’s Direct - great FA story of Ray Northcutt being sandbagged into the first 5.10+ in the country) and the crack on the right that’s an old school Classic 5.7 “Bastille Crack” - also in my mind from the earlier Kor reading; leave it to Pat Ament to paint a portrait strong enough to imbue a seemingly normal 5.7 by the roadside with a magical sense of history…

No backwards falls this time.

After our last interview in Coloroado with Bob Culp at his store in Boulder, we grabbed some food and beer and headed back to Keystone where we’d been bunkering down with Corene, the hostess with mostest in her granola bar supplying, shuttle drivin ski resort apartment.  We got in about 11pm, with packing for the flight to New York in the forefront of our minds as we had to leave for the Denver Airport at 4:30am, only a few hours away.  But when we arrived, it became immediately clear that our hostess, having consumed her weight in smirnoff screwdrivers, had no intention of letting us inside…unless we promised to get in the hottub with her and the rest of the ski bum crew!  After multiple attempts at pleas and phone calls, and even a successful attempt by Max at scaling to her balcony, we had no choice but to acquiesce.

After the interlude in the hottub, I headed downstairs to begin packing, weighing (with Corene’s scale), and repacking our 6 suitcases with film gear to make sure each was under 50lbs.  My wet hair froze stiff.  3:30am rolled by, still packing.  4:00am, getting close.

The clock struck 4:25 in the morning, and I realized that I had no space or time left to pack any of my own clothes, so… 

3 undershirts, 3 t-shirts, 1 polo short, 1 sweater, 1 sweatshirt, 1 peacoat, 1 pair of longjohns, 2 pair of pants, and a hat later, I waddled through Denver International Airport Security, and we were on our way to New York City!

4 all nighters, 1 car crash, 21 interviews, many MANY cups of terrible gas-station coffee, 6 suitcases (1 destroyed), 1 million dead braincells, 1 leader fall, 6 flights, 15 days, and 5,000 miles later and the journey has, ceremoniously, begun.  It was not an easy feat, and we had the smells to prove it.  (Insert feat/feet pun at your leisure.)

Stay tuned for parts 2 and 3, with the car crash, the Gunks, and the various interview clips soon to be released!

$1,527 to be exact.

After a year of preparation, the journey begins!

Come this Wednesday Oct. 8th - we are taking off for Golden, Colorado followed by New Paltz, New York for the first of our interviews!!!

And this is all happening because of you, YOU OUT THERE!  Thank you for the dollars, the letters, the emails, the equipment, the offers of beds and couches, and most of all, for the encouragement.  That means more than I can possibly convey in a blog.  It’s been a very tough month, with changes and setbacks and the usual difficulty associated with a creative endeavour trying to happen at the very apex of economic collapse (haha, i exxagerate) but having support and encouragement has made all the difference in the world.  As Orson Welles put it,

“A writer needs a pen, an artist needs a brush, but a filmmaker needs an army”

This is out our army - our list of Executive Producers, friends, and good spirits to date:

Alejandrina Davies

Alexandra Fallows

Allatoff Chaffage

Athena Tan

Binh Ta

Brandon “El Guapo” Kampschuur

Chelsea Taft

Christopher Cart

Corene Petlin

David Meeker

Elliot Wong

Gary Moore

James Williams

Janice Lee

Javier Morawski

Jean- Paul Cart

Jeffrey Shih

Jennifer Chiu

Jessica Hewins

Joby Petronis

Joe Takai

Jorge Perez de Acha

Joseph Dionisio

Judith Moore

Julie McPherson

Justin D. Williams

Kathleen Kim

Kay Donahue

Kevin Skaggs

Lisa Dracolakis

Lisa Hanawalt

Mark Moore

Marlaice Shoemate

Mary “Egley” Petronis

Melissa Bargman

Nathaniel Ben Cohen

Paloma Young

Seth Ichikawa

Sue and Tony DiCello

Sue Wildt

Tara Porter

TREVOR BARRETT

Vicki Anderson-Moore

Vince Smith

Xandre de Bellis

Zachary Joseph

Thank you to everyone for an act of generosity that accumulated into a collective effort that is making this trip a reality!  We will be updating this constantly now with clips and pictures and results, and I hope you will all know how much a part of this you are!

And now, for a few random pics of the preparation process:

and prep interviews:

It’s official. We’re headed out across the country!  We have some crucial interviews coming up that we absolutely can’t get any other time.  How are we going to pull this off without having our production money for another 3 months???

Elbow Grease!

Help us grease the wheels (you’ll get some goodies):

For more info on what that is, why, and what do you get, check out the Chipin Page: http://rockadventureguide.chipin.com/send-us-to-new-york

Beep. Slap. Cellphones just don’t have the same kind of dramatic hanging-up qualities like those old school phones from the 80s, I thought. But that’s for another day, and right now I was happy, celebratory, running around the house in my pajamas. I’d just gotten off the phone with Dana, a volunteer coordinator from the American Alpine Club who is trying to help me setup interviews with rock climbers in Colorado.

The greatest thing about this project so far (though we’re in the early stages, so, no gloating) is the great responses I’ve been getting from people in the climbing community. It’s genuinely inspiring.

When you hang out in LA and mention you want to make a film, expect your waiter to chime in ‘you, me, and everybody else in this over-priced hamburger joint, babe’. I wouldn’t really begrudge the comment because its true! (LA is crawling with filmmakers who want desperately to make crappy movies for lots of money.) But when you are making a film that means something to a whole community, well, it becomes more than just a personal fancy, but a group effort. And that feels pretty cool.

Alex, the crew member responsible for the hand drawings on the website, suggested that I put up bios of the climbers who will be interviewed in the doc. So here is a start:

Let me introduce you to our first official sign-on for the project: Lars Holbek.

Lars and a stray dog, circa 1973.

Lars has climbed, camped, kayaked and hiked across the continent, through North, Central, and South America.

He has lots of First Ascents from the [then] unpopulated Red Rocks of Nevada, including a sweet committing and traditional line known as Ginger Cracks.

(thanks to fivenineclimber.com for this pic)

Shortly after the trip in the Red Rocks where Lars completed this First Ascent with Mark Moore, the two were riding a freight train when, as luck would have it, they were spotted by a railway official. The official, however, only caught Mark, forcing him to get off with his two dogs, and leaving Lars behind. After they were split up, it would be months before the two friends would see each other again and find out what happened. (The details form one of my favorite stories, so I’m savin ‘em for the movie.)

Lars is also an epic figure in the whitewater kayaking and rafting scene, having done over 30-50 first descents in the USA. Remember the Tony the Tiger commercial with the Tony paddling down a river? Yup, that was Lars.

He currently has a converted vegetable oil bus, and is building a green sustainable home/barn/paradise on some land in Colorado. The last time I saw him a few years ago, he was sleeping in a mattress propped up in a tree on that land.

The man has stories to make you laugh, gasp, and get goose bumps.

A crackling on the other end of the line. “Well, I’m honored you want to talk to old geisers like me,” says the man whose rugged face graced billboards across the world, in his cheesy but wonderful off-handed sense of humor.

This is Lars. Our first real subject.