Where is your next EPIC adventure? Even more important, how do you prepare physically and mentally? Tap into your competitive edge with Melanie Webb’s outdoor fitness adventure coaching. Now preparing clients for Mt. Kilimanjaro, The Playa, and NYC (New York City!?)

How often have you met someone who signed up for an incredible outdoor adventure trip thinking they would have plenty of time to train and prepare? Before they know it, the trip is 4 weeks away, life has gotten busy, and they aren’t ready. There are two choices at this point – 1. Go anyway and hope for the best; or 2. Blitzkrieg the sport-specific training and find an expert to coach you along the way.

This is the kind of fitness training that gets the outdoor adventure guide/personal trainer/gear head in me so excited that my energy overflows as I coach my clients toward their fitness goals. To summit a mountain, spend a week in the desert, or be on your game in the Big Apple requires much more than simply ’showing up.’ As your fitness adventure coach, I will help you develop a strategic plan, research the physical demands of the destination, select the right outdoor equipment, and prepare you mentally and physically for the challenges ahead. Preparation becomes part of the experience, the trip itself is the climax, one which will exceed your expectations because you invested the time and energy to achieve it.

So plan that adventure trip! Live the life. Tap into your fullest potential. Accomplish your fitness goals with Melanie Webb of Sol Fitness Adventures.

Because fitness is more than a gym workout – it’s a way of life!

Alright, I try not to brag about my awesome outdoor adventure lifestyle. But the entire point of being a Santa Barbara personal trainer and this blog is to share my passion for fitness and the outdoors. How can I possibly not share spring skiing at Mammoth ski resort, just at the risk of appearing spoiled rotten?

Anyone would consider snowboarding fantastic snow conditions on May 20th pretty great. But how many times does one get to fly in a private plane, snowboard a full day at Mammoth ski resort in California’s Eastern Sierra’s, and return the same day to America’s Riviera, Santa Barbara, California?

Maybe some of you are more spoiled than I am and get to do this all the time. But for this ex snowboard bum, life doesn’t get much better!

This was a rough week for Zion National Park, where three deaths were reported in one week: a lone hiker fell while hiking Angel’s Landing and two men drown while attempting to float the icy cold and fast flowing Virgin River on a man-made log raft without PFD’s.

An early Utah pioneer named Isaac Behunin wrote about Zion, “Man can come closer to God within the walls of this canyon than in any man-made temple.” While I am very sad for the tragic deaths of these three modern explorers, the manner in which they died causes me to think that perhaps they got to go as any of us who love Zion NP would want to – doing what we love.

May they rest in peace. And may the U.S. Park Service keep wild places just that – WILD.

Salt Lake Tribune

“Why do they call it Fat Man’s?” you ask. This shot of Frank and Carolyn downclimbing their way through one of the many slots in Fat Man’s repertoire should clue you in. Visitors to Zion National Park ready to get off the beaten path and explore the backcountry have world-class canyoneering options to choose from. The beauty of Fat Man’s (or the misery, depending on your fitness level)is its hidden location – four miles behind Checkerboard Mesa and the strenuous six mile hike out of the canyon.

Our group of seven backpacked with wetsuits in tow, prepared for a swim in the cold, dark, murky water that pools up in the deep slot after canyon monsoons. Slots are formed by water, after all, and while our biggest concern was beating afternoon rainstorms and the deadly flashfloods that follow, shady canyons and freezing water temps can be a deadly combination. Luckily there were no swimming pools in the canyon and the wetsuits quickly turned into our own personal dry sauna in the desert heat. Being the lean desert explorers that we are (ha!), we stripped those clinging sweat suits off before what little insulating fat we had on our bodies could be melted away.

Aside from all the fun and challenging descents, my favorite part was the exit into beautiful The Barracks. The Virgin River was flowing cool and refreshing with mint patches growing at the mouth of Fat Man’s. Aaron, our herbalist guru, harvested some of the healing herb and brewed a delicious tea for dinner.

With four rappels and dozens of downclimbs, Fat Man’s isn’t for the meek. Get yourself a guide, an experienced friend, a guidebook and topo map before you head out.

Summer’s over, and went out in such EPIC style that I can honestly say with the enthusiasm of a school girl “it was the best summer I ever had!” I spent my last month of summer in Zion National Park, having so many adventures that I utterly refused to blog. Who wants to sit at the computer with so many world class slot canyons to explore?

Orderville, Pine Creek, Fat Man’s Misery, The Narrows, Yankee Doodle, and Water Canyon – so many slot canyons, so little time! With the season drawing to a close – days get shorter, water temps in the dark canyons drop to hypo-thermic lows – it means time to move along and make plans for next season.

You adventurers ready to experience Zion canyoneering will want to join Sol’s guided overnight  Redrock Backpacker: Southwestern, Utah trips in 2010. This is a non-technical canyon, so you won’t need rope skills, but you’ll still get to venture into one of the most spectacular and secret slot canyons in Southern Utah. Check out video highlights here: Sol Fitness Adventures: Redrock Backpacker, Southwest Utah

Slot Canyon Stupidity

“That thing which makes you great also makes you an asshole,” Greg, one of my favorite Zion canyoneering guides told me, “and all of us guides fall into that category.” He was 100% accurate in his assessment of me. I had nothing to blame but my own arrogance for getting caught in a slot canyon thunderstorm last week.

I hiked The Subway, one of the most popular Zion canyoneering canyons. Alone and without a rappel partner to help with the more technical upstream obstacles, I decided to hike up from the bottom, a 10-mile round trip easy route. I did my due diligence: told two people my game plan, set up my SPOT satellite tracker, picked up my permit from the backcountry office, and checked the weather reports (the  zero percent chance of rain the night before changed to 20% the next morning – not enough to cancel my hike).

I set out under clear blue skies and 100 degree temps (but it’s a dry heat, we Westerners say), jumped in deep swim holes to cool off when I got too hot. It was around mile four that dark clouds accumulated overhead. I recognized these clouds and knew it meant rain, I just wasn’t sure how soon.

I passed a family of five on their way down and asked them how much farther I had to go before I reached the actual Subway. They said I was close. “Good,” I said, “because it’s going to rain and I’m not sure how much time I have.”

“It’s not going to rain today,” the mother said as she sat chewing her granola bar. The dark clouds were overhead now.

“See those clouds?” I said, pointing overhead. “It’s going to rain alright, it’s just a question of when.” Fools, I thought to myself as I continued upstream, picking up my pace.

I reached the curving tunnel of the subway with it’s deep pools and trickling falls just as a strong wind blew down the canyon. I detected the unmistakable scent of rain. Just then a large clap of thunder echoed off the canyon walls. My heart immediately began to pound and I felt my muscles tense. I turned around and was running full speed through the tunnel within a milli-second. I made my way through the stream and up a sandy bank when another clap of thunder began, followed by another… and another; a sound that would continue for the next 30 minutes.

The smell of rain soon turned into a downpour, turning the sandy ground into a muddy slick within minutes. I kept running through the willows, trying to get as far downstream and out of the narrow canyon as possible. I carefully crossed the stream where I had to and hit the solid ground sprinting until I finally tripped over some exposed roots and fell to my stomach on the ground. It was a good wake up call. I was panicking, and if a flash flood didn’t kill me, that surely would.

I picked myself up and scrambled to a high bank nestled under the safety of an enormous overhanging wall. I drank some water and took a few deep breaths. I could safely spend the night here if I had to, if the water came up and trapped me. I still had more than 4 miles to go to reach the exit route to high ground. Who’s the fool now? I thought to myself.

People often ask if I talk to myself when I’m out there by myself. The answer is yes. Yes I do. Especially when I think I’m going to die. And the truth is, in an instance like this, I wouldn’t want anyone else’s input. I wouldn’t want to deal with the responsibility of worrying about them or having to calm their fears, or even worse, having them sit down and cry on me. Like I said, Greg was right about me, “that thing which makes you great…”

I was out of breath, getting hungry, and in no mood to spend the night in the canyon. I mixed a high calorie energy drink, took a few bites of a granola bar, and continued down the slippery slope to the creek. I was still running, but knew I had to pace myself if I was going to make it.

Somewhere under that controlled panic I came to terms with my condition. I was going to die. I was going to die, and you know what? I was cool with that. My pleading prayers turned to prayers of gratitude, and life never had more meaning.

Suddenly I was dialed-in. I became acutely aware of the cold rain drops hitting my skin. The smell of sagebrush in the rain – one of the most beautiful scents known to man. The course feel of the slippery, wet mud under my hands as I clawed my way up a steep bank. I could hear the sound of every heartbeat and knew exactly how to pace myself to keep from fatiguing too soon. Hundreds of juvenile toads jumped in every direction to avoid my crushing feet. “Southwestern toads,” I thought, not able to escape my training as a wildlife biologist, even now.

The four miles that took me three hours to hike up took me 45 minutes to run down. I made it to the exit route, found a nice high spot to sit, and waited for the family I had passed on my way down to make it out (that thing which makes you great…). I filled my bottles with water while the river was still clear and stretched as I felt the adrenaline rush wear off and the fatigue begin to set in.

Funny how it had stopped raining now. Nearly an hour past before the family caught up. I made sure they saw the cairns marking the exit route and began my half-mile ascent up the steep hill to my car. I looked back after a few minutes to see that the clear creek had turned to a dark chocolate churn and come up by two feet in the widest part of the canyon.

The no-brainer lesson learned reinforced my routine plan to turn clients around at the first sight of dark clouds. On my own and arrogant, I challenged mother nature. You just don’t do that without a stern reminder of your place in the world. At least future clients and friends will benefit from my moment of being an asshole.

But, even more valuable to me were those precious moments of clarity, when, in the face of fear and death, I came to terms with my mortality. I ran with the river gods, and spoke with Pacha Mama and God himself. And I wouldn’t trade those moments for anything, because “that which makes you great…” is born from moments like these.

I’m settling into my groove. I am a Zion canyoneering guide seeking a Mojave meditation on my own time.

Fighting the wind on early morning bike rides up the canyon, afternoon siestas out of the blistering heat, and evening hikes under freezing rain drops call attention to the daily extremes and fluctuations of the Mojave Desert. Ephemeral climate changes during any given day are one of the characteristics of the desert that make me feel alive. I’m in a constant state of adaptation, ever aware of my physical needs, tuned-in perfectly to this masterpiece of machinery that is my human body.

There’s a simplicity to this state of being that has a calming affect on the rhythm and hum of thoughts in my brain. Suddenly I’m aware and ‘present’ with my surroundings. The reds of the rock resonate with my own vibrant energy until I can literally sense myself growing stronger. Trilling bird song reaches my ears, accentuating the silence. A rising dust storm ahead alerts me to the presence of large animals – a mule train makes its way up the dry river banks.

It’s this sweet meditation that brings me back again and again. This calm is the state of being I hope my guests find when they venture to undertake Sol’s Redrock Backpacker: Southwestern, Utah adventure. This is my Mojave Meditation video

I’m sure you’ve told yourself to “go to your happy place” before. It’s a mental exercise, a visualization intended to lessen the pain or fear of the current situation. I have routinely done this every time I’ve visited the dentist since I was 10 years old.

I have literally “gone to my happy place,” on this Zion National Park backpacking trip, and I couldn’t be more thrilled. The last four times I’ve come to Zion I’ve guided Sol Fitness Adventures Redrock Backpacker: Southwestern, Utah overnight canyoneering adventure. Helping adventurous clients test their mental and physical limits by backpacking beyond official park boundaries into a Wilderness Study Area is what I do. I live to see the awe-struck looks on my client’s faces when they see the depths of the canyon for the first time. The last two trips were all work as I outpaced (one never outsmarts mother nature) thunderstorms, chased flash floods, and coached various phobias down the Virgin River.

My latest pilgrimage to the canyon is all about me though. Sure, I have some research and preparation to do for my next guided trip, but I’ve also come to commune with Mother Earth and connect with the locals. I’ll be here for one full week – hiking, biking, creating, swimming, eating, sleeping – all forms of active meditation to me, in my favorite place on earth. But enough about me. Check out more footage of this amazing canyon here. Redrock Backpacker: Southwestern, Utah

My move from D.C. back out west required a huge amount of logistical planning. I’d decided to trade the cumbersome UHaul for the freedom of my VW, which meant downsizing and shipping all of my belongings before I hit the road. Then there was the cross-country road trip itself. I knew that as a single woman it was safer to stay in hotels than camp. Besides, I didn’t want the hassle of tangling with the gear.

Most people hire movers for this type of transition. Not me, I’m from Utah, state of the industrious do-it-yourselfers. Luckily, I had not one, but FIVE wingmen to help me get it right. These mavens filled critical roles, saving me time and energy. I want to give props to my wingmen and highly recommend you line up yours before beginning your next EPIC road trip.

The Organizer. My BFF and fellow adventure sidekick Amie has moved across the country twice and knows how to use every inch of available space. I was frantically trying to mop the floors and move out when the parents of the new tenant arrived ahead of schedule to hang curtain rods and complain about their daughter’s poor choice in location (just tell her not to walk outside by herself late at night and early in the morning and she’ll be fine, I assured her). Amie unexpectedly showed up on my doorstep just as I was about to lose my mind and proceeded to direct the loading process. Who knows what I would have left behind if not for Amie’s sound mind.

The Muscle Man. Bobby, D.C.-local-turned-wilderness-lover who twice suffered loading my car and driving to the shippers 30 minutes away in McLean, VA. I had decided that if I had to face the wrath of D.C. postal service workers even once more I would be the one going postal.

The Air Traffic Controller. Bob Nash. This computer guru is so good at what he does that I have to include both names. Bob would use my SPOT GPS Tracker to look up my location on Google Maps, estimate my ETA at the next largest city, and text me the phone numbers of hotels that still had availability. I could rest assured knowing Bob was at the computer.

The Nurturer. Cathy, who single-handedly made sure I had enough gourmet crackers, tuna, AND chocolate to get me across the country and beyond. There is no threat of going hungry with a nurturer like Cathy in the wings. In fact, there was so much food that I was eating it in Peru, during the 10-hour drive to California, and on the Pacific Coast Highway!

The Worry Wart. My mother, of course! No need to worry with a mother like mine, who sent me a GPS navigation system especially for the occasion and called several times a day to make sure I hadn’t gone off the road and gotten stranded. Thanks MOM!

Looking for a Machu Picchu backpacking trip? Welcome to Sol’s Inca Trail Trek: Machu Picchu, Peru. Sol Adventurers aren’t content to merely take the train. We’ll reach the ancient city the way the natives did, walking the Inca Trail in the High Andes with our Quechuan porters, exploring ancient ruins, eating Peruvian cuisine, and sleeping under the starry skies.

Tune in during the next 2 months for training tips, cultural highlights, and more as we prepare for this EPIC trek. Beginning May 23, track us in live time with SPOT GPS technology and Google Maps.