Leonard - Sixty Meters to Anywhere

Praise for Sixty Meters to Anywhere

In Sixty Meters to Anywhere Brendan Leonard looks at climbing with the brutal honesty of a misguided youthhad climbing not found him, he would have continued a life defined by drink.... Inspiration on every page and a remarkable story of determination.

Conrad Anker, professional climber

Nothing is off-limits for Leonard in this shocking memoir about recovery from addiction and redemption in the mountains.

Grayson Schaffer, senior editor, Outside

Brendan Leonards prose has the clarity of all those times when, near the top of a mountain as the air spreads out and the world expands below, you feel as though the simple, yet mysterious act of ascent could actually change your life.

Katie Ives, editor-in-chief, Alpinist

Honest as a trad lead, committed as a free solo, this is the story of how a rope becomes lifes gift of redemptionand inspiration.

Steve Casimiro, editor, Adventure Journal

Leonards voice is at once crass, funny, heart-wrenching, and life-affirming.

Chris Kalous, The Enormocast

Leonard switches easily between humor and poignancy, his voice always unique and yet familiar.

Fitz Cahall, The Dirtbag Diaries

Sixty Meters to Anywhere is an honest, gritty memoir of how climbing and adventure can help put the pieces of someones life back together again.

Stacy Bare, director, Sierra Club Outdoors

Theres nowhere as exposed as on a knife-ridge arte thousands of feet above the earth, connected to a mountain by only multicolored string and some aluminum knickknacksexcept maybe the way Brendan Leonard has exposed how those particular circumstances changed his perspective forever, and could possibly change yours.

Jeremy Collins, author of Drawn: The Art of Ascent

Since climbings earliest days, nonclimbers have asked Why? In Sixty Meters to Anywhere, Brendan Leonard gives the best answer Ive ever heard.

Shannon Davis, former editor, Climbing

In an age where adventure becomes ever more professional and branded, Brendan Leonard keeps it real.... His stories are funny, honest, and emotional and capture perfectly why adventure feels so important.

Alastair Humphreys, a National Geographic Adventurer of the Year

Dont read this book unless you enjoy laughing, adventure, honesty, humility, and excellent storytelling.

Peter Brown Hoffmeister, author of Graphic the Valley and The End of Boys

Mountaineers Books is the publishing division of The Mountaineers, an organization founded in 1906 and dedicated to the exploration, preservation, and enjoyment of outdoor and wilderness areas.

1001 SW Klickitat Way, Suite 201, Seattle, WA 98134

800.553.4453, www.mountaineersbooks.org

Copyright 2016 by Brendan Leonard

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form, or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Printed in the United States of America

Distributed in the United Kingdom by Cordee, www.cordee.co.uk

19 18 17 161 2 3 4 5

Copyeditor: Elizabeth Johnson

Design and layout: Kate Basart/Union Pageworks

Cover photograph: The author on top of Devils Tower (photo by Forest Woodward)

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Leonard, Brendan.

Title: Sixty meters to anywhere / Brendan Leonard.

Description: Seattle, WA : Mountaineers Books, [2016]

Identifiers: LCCN 2015044406| ISBN 9781680510409 (paperback : alk. paper) | ISBN 9781680510430 (ebook)

Subjects: LCSH: Leonard, Brendan. | MountaineersUnited StatesBiography. | AlcoholicsRehabilitationUnited States.

Classification: LCC GV199.92.L46 A3 2016 | DDC 796.522092--dc23

LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015044406

Mountaineers Books titles may be purchased for corporate, educational, or other promotional sales, and our authors are available for a wide range of events. For information on special discounts or booking an author, contact our customer service at 800-553-4453 or .

Printed on recycled paper

ISBN (paperback): 978-1-68051-040-9

ISBN (ebook): 978-1-68051-043-0

For Mom & Dad

This book is a memoir. It reflects my very personal memories of various times, places, people, and events from my past. I have tried to be faithful to the facts and to fairly represent all that I remember, and I have sought input from friends and family. But memory is fallible, and I apologize for any representation that others might recall differently. Some names, places, and other characteristics have been changed to protect the privacy of certain individuals.

MY YOUTH ENDED UNDER THE fluorescent lights of a jail cell as my body quivered with dry sobs of shame.

I suppose people mark the end of youth in different ways, if at all: the first day of basic training, college commencement, the birth of your first child, the first day of your first real job. For me, it was DUI arrest number two: the end of Getting Away With It. It was then that I began to try to be a good person and make up for all the bad stuff I had done but hadnt been caught forthings my parents had raised me to know were wrong but I did anyway. I knew full well how Id gotten to this spot but I lay there on the bunk trying to find some better explanation.

The cops busted me before our night even got started. One minute I was peeing my name in the snow, and the next I was in the back of a squad car, staring out the windshield, knowing Id fucked up bad. Again.

Bode and I had finished a few pitchers after our shift at the bar, then stopped to see my pal Jayson, another bartender. He served me the last beer Id ever drink.

Two twenty-three-ounce Budweisers, one for me, one for Bode. We made half-formed evening plans across the bar, Jayson half-listening to us, half-concentrating on the drink orders piling up from customers, every few minutes mouthing off to us when he stepped across the bar to hand drinks to a waiting server. Cozy golden bar lights, bubbly pilsner getting warm in the tall glass but not faster than I can drink it, big gulps, stubbing cigarettes out in the ashtray, put some bills down on the bar even though the check never comes when your friend is bartending, okay, see you later.

Back in the car, Bode fishtailed around corners through six inches of fast-falling snow, back to his house for a sweater. I waited in the car, parked on the street, engine on.

Lets go, Bode, I said. Honk, honk. Come on, man. I put the gearshift in drive, let the car roll forward a few feet, whoa, better jump over to the drivers seat and hit the brake, and put it back in park. Red and blue flashers lit up the street, bouncing off the snow. My heart jumped into my throat, then dropped into my stomach.

Do you have a license? a cop yelled through the open window.

I dont, sir, I said. I was fucked. By then, I already knew how handcuffs fit. Real tight.

The cops had followed Bodes swerving tracks all the way to the house and found me moving the car a couple of feet down the curb as he stood on the porch. Bode ran through the snowy yard and tried to explain the situation to the unsympathetic officers as I stared out the windshield and decided that if I believed in God, he hated me.