A Brief History of the Shaka le Moose

Vedauwoo, Wyoming

The "shaka" -- the Hawaiian hand gesture for "hang loose" or "positive vibes" or "right on" or " take it easy" or "aloha," which itself means "love" or "affection" or "peace" or "compassion" or "mercy" or "greetings" -- has become, like its meanings, near universal. It is no longer just surfers on the pro circuit who flash the shaka.

President Obama waves the shaka. Jock bros on fraternity row throw the shaka. Duck-butt hair cut "let me talk to the manager" suburban moms named Karen who drive from yoga class to the closest wine bar even have the shaka printed on the bumper stickers of their Land Rovers. The shaka is ubiquitous and perhaps it is its universality that allows for its vast and sundry use and application. Indeed, it would seem, the shaka has become all things to all people.

The shaka comes to us from Hamana Kalili (1882-1958), a legendary fisherman from O'ahu, Hawai'i who lost the middle three digits of his right hand in an industrial accident, working at a sugar plant circa 1917. Later, Hamana worked security at that same plant and local children looking to murk some of that sweet sweet sugar cane would mimic his deformity by waving their pinky and thumb to alert that the coast was clear. And thus, according to the oral history, the local tradition of waving the shaka was born.

Hamana Kalili was also a Mormon. And it makes sense that, given the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saint's central tenet of open revelation,  that the shaka would go on to take new life and new forms around the world. Hawai'i Magazine readily describes "7 ways to throw a shaka." This youtube user illustrates 13 different shakas. But the definitive source of all things shaka is Thomas Campbell's  2005 surf film Sprout, which explains the many types of shakas:

 Sprout (2005)

In Sprout we have our first known example of the Shaka le Moose in the wild. In this variation of the shaka, the practitioner raises a double fisted shaka to their head, resembling the palmate antlers of the male moose. The film claims that the shaka le moose is reserved for Canucks who come to visit the Hawaiian islands. But while moose are closely associated with our friends in the Great White North, these largest members of the deer family also inhabit the boreal and temperate broadleaf forests of the United States from the Utahlorado Rockies to New England as well. So while Mormonism was exported to the Hawaiian islands, the shaka was imported to the mainland where the Shaka le Moose was set free to populate the mountains and spread the shaka spirit in the high country.

Sometime around 2010, I discovered the Sprout clip on youtube and was introduced to the "shaka le moose." During my tenure as a mountain guide in Salida, Colorado (2013-2015) the shaka le moose became my go-to summit selfie pose. The first such instance occurred at the summit of Mt. Guyot in July of 2013. Mt. Guyot was the "white whale" amongst our guiding outfit. It lacked clear trails to high camp and featured a long, exposed ridge traverse that was prone to bad weather in the summer months. Ours was the first group to summit in years and I celebrated the good vibes with some hang loose moose.

Mt. Antero, Colorado

Wetterhorn Peak, Mt. Guyot, Mt. Shavano, Colorado

From there the shaka le moose and I went up and down the Rockies from New Mexico to Wyoming, across the Great Plains to the Southern Appalachians and then internationally to its apropos motherland: Banff National Park, Canada. But the shaka le moose is in decline.

Based on very reliable and highly scientific instagram data using the #shakalemoose, #shakalamoose, and #shakamoose hashtags, the shaka le moose is vulnerable to extinction in the wild. Posts tagged some variation of shaka le moose peaked in 2015 and though it saw a modest resurgence in 2018, the general trend is down. This threatened status begs the question, where has all the mountain shaka gone? Like the moose population in temperate climates declining due to human-induced climate change, the conservation of this species of positive vibes and good tidings depends on mountain people like you and me. Become part of the conservation effort by getting out there, doing rad things, and throwing those good vibe antlers up. 

Heart Mountain, AB, Canada

Viva la Shaka les Moose!

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What was your best climbing day of the decade?

photo by Logan Mahan

I'm a sucker for nostalgia. I always get a joyful kind of pensiveness at the end of the year. So when Mountain Project username "plantmandan" started a thread titled "What was your best climbing day of the decade?" I was thrown into a nostalgic journey through the past.

I'm also a hopeless romantic, so I listened to Neil Young's "Journey Through the Past" on repeat while doing so.

I started rock climbing (and this blog) toward the beginning of the decade and since then it has brought so much joy and memories it's hard to pick a singular day. Rock climbing has been my conduit to travel, my social outlet, a source of friends and companionship, and my respite and sabbath from school, work, and stress.

Significantly, it isn't the climbing that stands out the most.

It's the meaningful conversations that I genuinely believe can only be had on long car rides driving across the country.

It's spending $40 of gift card money on margaritas at the Canon City Chile's while flash floods swept through the canyons and gulches of Shelf Road.

It's bringing the wrong crampons on your first alpine climb. (I'm basically Alex Honnold.)

photo by Barrett Pckard

It's the profound sense of clarity and peace of mind as you top out that highball boulder problem all by yourself, alone in the woods, as the snow begins to blanket the forest.

It's sitting around the campfire listening to the Knoxville crew picking and grinning bluegrass music at Del and Marte's campground.

It's tying an inner tube to a boulder and floating for hours on the South Platte River.

It's running an inner tube down the Clear Creek rapids after a big rain at the Obed.

photo by Ragnarok Endurance Competitions

It's the fist bump from your partner after a proud send or a scary whip.

It's shotgunning a PBR at 10:00 AM on the side of Independence Pass because the can got a hole in it and Josh has a strict "no beer left behind" policy.

It's sitting around the campfire, listening to Doc Watson underneath the high desert stars when a huge herd of open range cattle come marching through your campsite.

It's the silhouettes of elk at ridge line, as the sun peaks up from behind that makes that 3:30 AM alpine start all worth it.

It's the summit hug and selfie after accomplishing a big goal you set for yourself with your best friend.

It's proposing to your wife at the top of her first multi-pitch in North Carolina.

photo by old lady hiker at Table Rock

It's getting in your truck after a day at work, driving to the local cliff, and talking about your day with your belay partner who happens to be your co-worker.

It's eating BBQ on the bench outside Jed's Gas Station at the base of Pigeon Mountain where most people boulder but you, proudly, had a 50-pitch day trad cragging at Lost Wall.

It's stuffing your sleeping bags in the floorboard of your truck and cranking the heat to make them nice and toasty when there's a fire ban in Tennessee.

photo by Vance Cato

It's the stories and laughter shared around the campfire with folks you only met an hour ago who came from all over the country or the continent to climb the same rocks you are.

It's Eli talking about Peter Gabriel's "Solsbury Hill" while driving to King's Bluff and then turning on the radio and it being the very next song. (We screamed like school children on the playground.)

It's playing games in the dirt when you get to your backcountry camp.

photo by I don't remember

It's sleeping in the dirt, in a tent, or in the back of a truck, making a cup of coffee and walking to the cliff in the early morning air.

It's dipping into that well-spring of youth every time you go play in the woods and realize you're a full grown adult who still gets to play in the woods.

It's countless sweaty summer days chasing the shade at Sunset Rock or up in Suck Creek.

It's talking about the historicity of Ice Cube's "Good Day" and the age appropriateness of pooping your pants while hiking into North Clear at the Obed.

It's the view from the anchors, the sound of the river at the bottom of the gorge, and the sun setting behind the Southern Cumberland Mountains of Tennessee.

It is the memories of places and people that make rock climbing so special for me.

But if you want a straight answer to the question, "What was your best climbing day of the decade?" It goes like this:

trad: climbing 3,000 ft in a day for my 30th birthday at the Linville River Gorge with Russ.

sport: clips and whips (no significant sends) and then inner tubing the Clear Creek rapids at the Obed with Eli.

video

boulder: last month, running around Zahnd climbing and giggling on all the oddities, triflings, and V-Weird boulders with Andrew and Hobe AKA the Choss Boys AKA the Chosstafarians AKA The Three Chossineers.

the not climbing part of climbing: sitting around the campfire every night for a week drinking cheap beer and listening to Doc Watson in El Rito, New Mexico with Josh.

5 Classic Southern V0s

"Yosemite Slab"

V0 -- the shudras of the bouldering caste system. It's the grade you warm up on or the grade you aspire to move on from. They are the boulders you walk past to get to your project or your well-rehearsed circuit. Nobody's spraying about V0 on Instagram or Mountain Project or 8a but there are some really great problems at the grade. Boulders that stand on their own as absolute classics despite their diminutive difficulty.

Perhaps V0 is your warm up or your cool down grade. Maybe V0 is your limit or your project as you begin climbing outside. Or maybe, if you're like me, you have been training for a 50K and you have neglected your forearms and lat muscles and fingers for so long V0 is all you can manage to send when you finally make it back out to the boulders with your buds. Whatever V0 is for you, below are some southern classics that should not be missed regardless of your climbing ability. Boulders that are megasplitter uberclassics but don't get the love they deserve because of their low end v-scale.

Cheesecake Arete

HM: Cheesecake Arete -- Zahnd, GA

Honorable mention is due to Zahnd's "Cheesecake Arete." This tall line up a picture perfect bloc in Zahnd's aptly named zone, "Land of Arete's" is unmistakable; walk around long enough and you'll see it. A perfect slice of tasty southern sandstone. The crux is standing up at the top without falling off either side. It falls just outside the Top 5 only because it's over too quick!

5. Easy Crack -- Boat Rock, GA
Boat Rock's de facto warm up is so good it has its own t-shirt designed after it. Just a short walk from the entrance, it allows one to sink one's paws into the area's sharp and abrasive granite before padding up precarious slabs all day. Despite its earned reputation as a slab mecca, Boat Rock has a lovely crack circuit to get gobie'd up on. You'll wish "Easy Crack" went on for a full pitch... or four.

4. El Classico -- Rocktown, GA
Slabs generally lend themselves well to the V0 grade because their low angle makes otherwise diminutive holds seem like bucket jugs in the gym. This one should be done every trip down to Rocktown.

3. Donkey Show -- Horse Shoe Canyon Ranch, AR
Low angle cracks and slabs don't do it for you? Travel to the Ozarks and try Horse Shoe Canyon Ranch's "Donkey Show." Follow the line of steep hero jugs to ≈ twenty-feet. Sally up for the crux and continue to the top. If it were any longer it would be 14c at the Red.

2. Jaws -- Sand Rock, AL
Is it a trad lead, a top-rope, or a boulder? "Jaws" toys with the grey area between bouldering, soloing, and third class mountaineering. Whichever way you do it -- and for the purposes of this blog, you should boulder it -- you'll enjoy the in-cuts and horns on this butt puckering arete. Don't blow it at the top! Just remember it's V0 (or that dreaded, archaic, sandbagged 5.9+) so it's all there.

1. Yosemite Slab -- Jackson Falls, IL
For this one, we must, as reluctant we may be, venture north of the Mason-Dixon Line. Illinois may not be geographically Southern but southern Illinois, with it's Kentucky and Missouri neighbors, gets an honorary position. And "Yosemite Slab" is worthy of its honor: a mammoth, beautiful, and seemingly blank piece of stone smack in the middle of the Prairie State's grandest canyon. It is perhaps the most iconic and classic V0 this side of the Mississippi River. It is tall, daunting, and plain ol' fun.

On a weekend solo adventure a few winters ago, I went out to the Falls and ran laps on this rig in between chapters of Brian Panowich's Bull Mountain. It is the only thing I have climbed at Jackson Falls and I could easily be persuaded to return and do the same again. It's just that good.

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What did I miss? Tell me in the comments.
Forth coming: 5 Classic Southern Party Trick Boulders... 

100 Favorite Things

Saw this on Semi-Rad and thought I'd take a stab at it.  So, in the spirit of Thanksgiving and in no particular order whatsoever...

1. “You Never Even Call Me By My Name” — David Allan Coe 
Steve Goodman wrote the most perfect country western song.

2. Lunch Special at Moonlight Pizza
Six bucks for a dang good slice of pizza and a cream ale.

3. Central Scrutinizer at Red River Gorge 
In the land of steep sport climbs, don't miss this killer trad slab. Cojunga.

4. Aeropress Coffee Maker 
My preferred coffee making method. 
 
5. Lookout Mountain, Tennessee 
The trails I run, the rocks I climb, the view from my commute -- one of my favorite places on earth.

6. Cormac McCarthy's Southern Appalachian Novels
The Orchard Keeper, Outer Dark, Child of God, Suttree, The Road(?) 

7. THIS Chocolate Bourbon Pecan Pie recipe
 Nice take on a Southern classic and my favorite thing to bake. 

8. Big Daddy Loop
1/3 of the Chattanooga trail running trifecta. 
 
9. Dale’s Pale Ale 
My go to craft brew. 

10. Outdoor Research Ferosi Hoodie
 The most versatile soft good in my gear kit: alpine climbs, trail runs, parking lot duty at school. 

The Birthday Challenge: THE ULTRA DADDY

This year was "Chet's Fourth Semi-Annual Birthday Challenge Bonanza" -- a number corresponding endurance objective to celebrate another trip around the sun. This year I ran my first ultramarathon, a 50K, or 31 miles for 31 years. No race. No medal. No t-shirt. Not even a bib number. Just a dumb idea I had about running circles in the woods. My good friend, climbing partner, and sufferfest connoisseur Josh ran Lookout Mountain's Big Daddy Loop three times with me -- THE ULTRA DADDY! 

Sidenote: I kind of burnt out on training and though I ran 13 trail miles pretty consistently, I never ran any more than that at a time. So everything I would experience after mile 13 was a mystery. Neat!

The first loop was legit fun. My wife Becca ran with us and it went by fast. I enjoyed listening to her and Josh talk about their nursing professions. We all felt really good, we ran at pretty good clip, and we had a really good time. Despite running in shorts I wore all throughout my training, I was experiencing some pretty bad chafing. Other than that, it was "Type 1 Fun."

My truck served as our "aid station" where Josh and I said goodbye to Becca then shoved some mini turkey wraps down our gullets, split a small can of Red Bull, refilled our water, dealt with our chafing issues and hit the trail again.

The second loop started off fun. Just the two of us, Josh and I talked about life and the meaning of life and social constructs and deconstruction and the appeal of Buddhism and so on and so forth. But somewhere around mile 17 or 18 we started talking more and more about what body parts were hurting the most. We made it back to the truck with stiff knees and high spirits and my sister-in-law Laura, her husband Max, and my sweet baby niece Ruby were in the parking lot.

Max joined us for the third loop, which was hell. It was tough to leave the comfort of my truck's tailgate and my right knee was really starting to yell at me but Max kept our spirits high. We were now running a little over a 14 minute mile which would devolve into a 15 minute mile and everything was a dull pain. At the marathon distance, however, Josh and I hit a wall. My right knee and my left foot were excruciating and my muscles were starting to really fatigue. The chafing that started in the first loop was starting to hurt again.

As we made the approach down toward the John Smartt trail ( a ≈ 1.7 mile uphill that gains ≈ 1,700 ft in elevation from the valley to the bluff) I was looking forward to my knees getting a "rest" going up. At Skyuka Spring we slammed some goo and made the now-ever-so-slow "speed hike" up the mountain. Of course, the rest was only a redistributing of pain from my knees to my quads.

At the crest of the bluff line, I was only 2 miles away from my Birthday Challenge goal and I was determined to "run" the rest of the way to 31. Those may be the hardest two miles of my life. Unfortunately, when we reached 31, we still had another two and a half miles to go before making the last turn downhill to the truck.

Somewhere, I remember Brendan Leonard (semi-rad.com) saying something about his goals for his next ultramarathon and wanting to "run most of the downhills." I remember thinking "the downhill? that's the easy part!" But that last 11 mile loop, I understood.

Each step downhill, no matter how small, felt like an actual endeavor in and of itself. We were passed by other runners and I wanted so desperately to protect my pride and tell them "this is our third loop!" or "we're on mile 28!" One pair of runners must have taken us for a trio of n00bs, asking us just a mile or so from the parking lot if we had headlamps because surely there was no way these two grandpas and one tall redhead would make it to their cars before dark!

Well, we didn't. But we did have headlamps. And when we got there, several friends were waiting, cheering us on and making a tunnel with their arms to run through. Josh and I cheers'd and exchanged hugs with folks before heading to Max and Laura's for pizza and ice cream. It was perfect. 

So very very very thankful for Rebecca who ran with us and planned the finish line and after party; Max who ran with us; Laura who drove up the mountain TWICE with baby Ruby (MVP!); Reid and Leah and Paul who showed up at the finish line to wish me a happy birthday; and to Josh who is always down to do hard things in the mountains with me. Next year, I think I'll go bouldering.

The ultra-daddy: