This past weekend I desperately needed sunglasses for a weekend trip to Yosemite. So during my lunch break on Friday I perused CVS, trying on ultra-UV protective granny shades and small, bug-eyed knock offs. But I left empty handed – as everyone knows the CVS rack is whack.
A lost pair of sunglasses was the least of my worries. I neglected to buy a Thermorest and barely remembered packing my sleeping bag at 7:30 am. But still it bugged me. Thinking of hiking around, staring awkwardly into the bright light, rattled my cheap San Franciscan head.
But as we cruised down route 120 on our way to be weekend dirt bags, I thought of an Outside Magazine article about Graham Hunt – a local Yosemite legend who recently passed away in a tragic BASE jumping accident. A fellow climber described him saying, “Graham Hunt was a G who rolled silent like lasagna. He was known only by those who needed to know.”
The article tells Grant’s life story, praising his soulful and daring spirit and his dedication to climb at any cost. Outside magazine dug up a picture of Graham (before the tragedy he was practically un-Google-able) using an image of Graham looking up at a granite slab, chalking up his right hand for the ascent. His calm and cool demeanor reminded me that trivial things (like lost sunglasses) were certainly the last of my worries as we drew closer to Yosemite.
So as Camel Power Club shouts in Fellini Félin’s most recent release, fuck it baby! Send it!