Lessons from Mount Superior

When the pandemic started, I started hiking. Since that time I have found the mountains have not only reshaped my body but they have reshaped my mind. I’m consistently surprised by the insights I learn from the trail. One memorable lesson came from Mount Superior.

Mount Superior

Mt. Superior, via Cardiff pass, is a steep day hike in Little Cottonwood Canyon, Utah. In about 2.5 miles you climb nearly 2500 feet and the last mile is a scramble along the ridge line with impressive yet daunting views.

I first noticed the mountain when I hiked Mount Baldy across the way with my son the year prior. From Baldy, Mount Superior looks epic and almost like a shear cliff from the road below.

It became one of my goals to go to the top of Superior. I was excited for the adventure, the stunning views, and to do something I wouldn’t have thought I could do before as a fairly new hiker.

Preparation

In the days prior to the hike I started preparing my gear; water, food, first-aid, and a warm jacket incase it got cold – it was summer but the mountains sometimes like to disregard the seasons. Along this vein of thought, I began tracking the weather religiously. August in Northern Utah tends to have thunderstorms.

As expected, in the week leading up to the hike, thunderstorms where in the forecast daily. Luckily they weren’t scheduled to roll in until late afternoon or evening.

My plan was to do the hike when the sun came up and be down hours before the storms started to roll in. If the forecast changed on the morning of the hike I would bail. I also planned to do the hike solo. I felt comfortable with this because the trail is heavily trafficked.

The morning of the hike I woke up early and checked the weather. Everything still looked good with thunderstorms not in the forecast for late afternoon. I kissed my wife, grabbed my pack, hopped in the car, and began driving up Little Cottonwood Canyon in the dark.

When I got out of my car, light was just starting to peak over the mountains and gentle fluffy clouds made for a serine landscape. I checked the weather again, in addition I was checking weather in a variety of cities around where I was hiking. Everything looked good. I started working my way up the trail.

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Ascent

As I started my way up the trail, I watched the sun rise over the mountains and stopped often for pictures of the scenery. The first mile and a half of the trail is really steep. This is where the majority of elevation is gained. I decided to follow behind a small group of hikers by about 50 yards.

As I climbed higher the wind started to pick up. After about an hour of climbing, I was making great progress and approaching the top. I felt surprised by how quick the ascent was going. I could see the ridge line and the top of Superior.

Still following the small group of hikers, I watched them hike below the ridge line and go around a bend. This was a different route than what my map said. It said to go up along the ridge line. I decided to follow them. By the time I got to the bend they were nowhere to be seen. In fact I wouldn’t see them again throughout the day (they likely looped around the top and went back down).

Following their path, the trail went over an edge that was nearly a sheer drop-off. The only way up to the top seemed to be a scramble up steep loose rock.

While I was debating to go up or go back a ways and follow the map, a couple of hikers approached. I let them know I wasn’t sure where to go and they said they had followed me assuming I knew what I was doing. We chatted for a bit and decided to head up to the top.

Taking it step by step, the scramble wasn’t bad and I made it to the top. The views were absolutely incredible and I was amazed at how quickly I made it to the top of Superior. I sat down and ate some Oreos to celebrate.

A False Summit

But something didn’t feel right. This felt too easy. I made it to the top nearly an hour faster than expected. The way up wasn’t as nerve wracking as some of the trail guides I had read prior described. I pulled out AllTrails (a trail and GPS app) and sure enough, I wasn’t at the top of Superior. I was only at Cardiff Pass. I still had a mile to go.

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I looked westward on the ridge line and saw Superior towering above me. It looked long, steep, and precarious. The mile long ridge scramble to it looked daunting. This sense of unease was not aided by the strong winds on top of the ridge. Additionally, clouds had rolled in and it was gray and overcast.

I debated turning around, but this had been a goal for a long time and I didn’t want to throw in the towel just yet. I checked the weather and although it was overcast there were still no thunderstorms in the forecast until later in the day.

Small Steps

Rather than go back I decided to go a short way and see how it felt up on the ridge. Up close the drop-offs felt manageable. Soon I approached a couple of hikers working their way down. They said the weather was sunny near the top. This was a relief to hear.

Shortly after, As I got closer to Superior, the sun came out again. This boosted my spirits but the scrambling got more precarious. At many points the trail disappears and you are just on rocks. It can be difficult to find the best route. Sometimes I would climb up to a spot and then have to go back down because there was a drop on the other side. The mountain itself is like a very steep pile of sharp rocks. Sometimes when you put your hand on a rock it will slide out of place. I had to move very slowly and intentionally. The going was slow and strenuous.

Going through this part I felt like I was stretching out of my comfort zone physically and mentally. To me, being up here felt like being on top of a skyscraper. I paused often to calm my nerves and ground myself. My approach for handling fear was to break each step down, just go a few steps further, and if it gets too uncomfortable I could always turn around. This was my approach for progressing along the ridge line.

After a few false summits and wrong turns I made it to the final ascent. It looked like a steep scramble to the top. Again, I had to center myself. I didn’t want to turn around after making it this far. I took it step by step and made it to the top. I felt so proud of myself for making it.

The Top

I was exhausted, but grateful the sun was back out and a grateful to be on top. My plan was to eat lunch on top of Superior, but the wind was so bad I decided to go down a little and eat somewhere with a little more shelter. A little ways further on the ridge line was another peak, Monte Cristo. In the back of my mind I had hoped to make if over to this peak as well. But I didn’t feel good about doing it, a choice I would later be very grateful for. I decided I would try that another day.

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Before starting my descent I checked the weather again. All looked good. The descent back down was slow, but route finding was much easier going down because I was able to see from a higher vantage point where the trail connected again when it would break from the rock scrambles.

After about 15 minutes of descent I was looking for a place to sit down and eat. I was starting to feel a little shaky from lack of calories. It also started to get overcast again. I was behind a wall of rock and couldn’t see well. Before I sat down to eat I thought I should probably look around to check the weather. So I climbed around to a better vantage point and looked out.

What I saw surprised me. A bolt of primal fear went through my body as I looked out at a massive white storm wall heading up the canyon. This was not what I wanted to see.

I pulled out my weather app and it showed a storm hitting in about 15 minutes.

The Storm

I prayed that there would not be lightning in that storm. I also knew the rock I was on would get incredibly slick when it got wet. I needed to get off the rock and onto the trail quickly. But I also knew how slow I had to go to not fall off the side of the mountain on my way up. So I went slowly as quickly as possible.

On my way up the ridge took about an hour. A lot of that time was because I was route finding. I had been going down for a quarter of that time and knew I would very likely be on the rocks when the storm hit.

I felt utterly alone and small compared to the massive power of the nature that I was surrounded by. I missed seeing others on the trail. Where were all these people (likely in a similar state of mind scrambling for shelter)? In this moment I was legitimately scared and regretted my choice to do this hike. My brain was screaming run, run! And at the same time I wanted to just sit down and cry. Neither of these options would get me down safely. I had to force myself to calm down.

I made a quick plan. If I heard thunder or if the rain hit before I was off the rocks, I was going to hop over the north side of the ridge and hide out behind the rocks. As long as I could safely move I was going to shoot for making it off the rocks and to the trail.

I moved forward with my plan and was making good time descending. The trail was easier to find going down and, compared to the fear of the incoming storm, the steep views no longer seemed as intimidating. I was able to move smoothly and intentionally down the ridge line—aided by prayers and probably a few swears.

The rain hit while I was still on the rocks. Just like I anticipated they became very slick. Luckily I was almost off the rocks. I could see the trail about 20 yards away. To my relief, I saw a couple sheltered behind a covered area of shrubs and trees. This was where I wanted to make it too and it felt so nice to see other people.

Now on the trail, the storm was coming in full force now. It was raining and snowing. I wanted to run the last 100 yards but I knew I needed to stop and get my coat on. I was getting wet and I didn’t want to get hypothermia. I had to push aside my fear and the will to run and wrestle my jacket on in the wind.

Once I got it on I ran. My legs burned and I could feel them cramping. They didn’t want to go. I was out of calories from not having lunch. I kept going anyways.

I made it into the trees. It was such a huge sense of emotional relief to be close to other people even though they were strangers. I sat out the storm with them. It blew by in about 15-20 minutes. There was never any thunder or lightning.

I finally ate my lunch.

Descent to the Bottom

I pulled out my map and saw I was down a little below Cardiff pass again. To get back to the trail I came up on I would need to scramble up Cardiff pass a little bit. I didn’t feel comfortable doing this because of how slick the rock was. Cardiff pass also sits above a section of sheer cliff. I didn’t want to go that way either. Meanwhile, the couple planned to wait for things to dry a little and continue on to Superior.

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Then a trail runner zoomed by like Spiderman as he descended an alternate route. He hopped down a side trail and it looked like an easy way to go. I checked the route he took on my phone and it connected with the main trail. It also bypassed the cliffs below and avoided having to go back up to Cardiff pass.

I followed his route but without his elegance. My legs were shot from running out of calories. The rocky path he gracefully traveled down was super slick. Paired with my semi functioning legs I would need a different technique to get down. So I butt-slid down about 1000 feet of elevation.

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I stepped onto the main trail again. It felt so good to be off the ridge. Then sun even came out again. I looked back up and saw the couple I sat with during the storm following behind using the same technique I used for descent. They decided not to do Superior because of the slick rock.

Insights from the Mountain

When I made it back to my car I felt like I was done hiking for a while. The experience was terrifying. I realized this was still fear talking. Once again I decided to push this aside and instead reflect on the experience. I continued reflecting on this experience for the next few days.

The first thing I reflected on was that I was glad I was prepared. I’m glad I had a jacket just in case it got cold. I’m glad I had lots of food and water (even though I didn’t eat it soon enough). I was glad I was tracking the weather, and glad I could track my route with a GPS trail app like AllTrails. I think without those resources my story would have been much different.

However, there were a few other critical lessons I was taught by the mountain that day:

1. Manage Fear
   Doing new things can be scary, especially when unexpected storms hit. Succumbing to fear can be fatal. Not facing your fear leads to stagnation. Rather, when something feels scary, slow down and break it into small approachable steps. You will likely find that it’s not as bad as you anticipated. And if it’s something that is not possible at the time, at least you have the satisfaction of giving it your best effort.

2. Beware of false summits
   If something feels too easy, it likely is. Check your bearings constantly so that you don't fall short of your goals.

3. Look for Support from Others
   Even if you feel alone, look to the community around you for support. Remember that sometimes others are just as confused as you. Just because someone is doing it one way doesn’t mean that is always the best approach. Additionally, just because something is easy for someone else doesn’t mean it will be easy for you. Be okay with the butt-slide. Expect others to follow you. Others are watching wether you know it or not.

4. Apply What You Learn
   Going up is challenging because it’s hard to see the path. On your descent you have new perspective and experience making the same path easier to manage.

A year later I did this hike again. Thankfully it was a much nicer day, though still very windy. Fear still left an impression on me as I scrambled along the ridge line. I still felt small compared to the nature surrounding me. But I felt better equipped to handle it and this time I ate lunch at the top of Superior.

Information Deficit

I just wanted to share an insight from a great book from multi-disciplinary designer, Kenya Hara. In his book Designing Design, he talks about how our brain is wired to handle dense amounts of information.

Sometimes we talk about the world we live in causing information overload and the stress it causes our minds. His take is that this is actually caused by the limited quality of information we are constantly bombarded with. Rather than information overload, our brains want to shut down because of information deficit – being constantly bombarded with fragments of incomplete information.

He talks about how our bodies or gigantic sensory organisms and that we are designed to take in all sorts of information at once.

A human being is a bundle of very delicate receptor organs and at the same time an image-generating organ equipped with a vigorous memory-playback system.

But something interesting has happened to us in the modern era. We spend hours a day taking in information primarily through static sensory experiences focused on one or maybe two senses.

His hope is that creators might look at experiences that account for more of the senses to better optimize the dense kind of information the brain is able to receive.

Here is a passage from the book that talks about the perceptive capabilities of our feet that we often forget about because we cover them up so often:

There is a reason why the bottoms of human feet are sensitive. The bottoms of the feet are the only body parts that always come into contact with the ground. They are used to detect delicate, detailed information at all times. Today, the bottoms of feet are covered by socks and shoes, so these sensors are now wrapped in covers.…

I'm reminded of the time I went to Bali on business with the interior designer Takashi Sugimoto. There are plenty of fancy resort hotels there, so I kind of figured we'd be staying at one of them. I was a little disappointed to hear from Sugimoto that he'd reserved rooms at an old lodging complex. "Those new resorts aren't very interesting," he said, by way of explanation. The site of the more mature lodge covered a vast area, dotted with cottages and paved with old stones in every direction. Guests walk barefoot there, and I was rather surprised to find myself enjoying the feeling. When I thought about why that was, I realized that the stone pavement was worn away by decades of barefoot travelers, polishing the stones as they tread. My feet rejoiced at the feel of the stones. It was a wonderful feeling of familiarity–like cuddling my old cat–that came to me through the soles of my feet. When I think about it, I sense an extreme delicacy in the feeling I got from stones worn away by the walking of fellow human beings. It's hard to explain, but it's probably a composite of minute discrepancies from stone to stone. Intuitively, I felt that the stones help a great amount of information.

I realized something then; although today's society is said to be in a state of information overload, in fact it may not be an excess. It's just an overflow of odd and fragmented information in the media. The amount of information in each fragment is quite small. In this slew of half-baked information, isn't the brain oppressed? The stress on the brain isn't because of quantity, but because of limited quality.

Against the backdrop of the evolution of media and its powerful gathering of news material and data, all of the world's happenings are trimmed like a lawn by a mower, with fragments of information flying about from place to place through the media as grass flies through the air. These broken pieces of information adhere to our tofu-like brain like spices sprinkled so thick that they obscure the entire surface. For a moment, this makes us think we're quite knowledgeable, but information tacked on the surface of the brain doesn't amount to much when you add it all together. Conversely, the amount of information we receive through sensual [of the senses], pleasant experiences via the soles of our feet is enormous. The human brain likes anything that entails a great amount of information. Its extensive capacity waits eagerly to perceive the world by completely exhausting its great receptive powers. That potential power, though, remains today in a state of extreme constriction and is a source of the information stress we’re all under.

The Road Not Taken

A lesson in why context matters in design and research

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A famous poem says the following:

Two roads diverged in a wood. and I —
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

The line is from The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost. You may have seen it printed on a calendar, graduation invitation, a t-shirt in a travel gift shop, or embroidered and framed at your grandma’s house. It has inspired the masses. It serves as a slogan for trying new things and accepting challenges. Except that poem isn’t really about what most people think it is about.

A few years ago I purchased a book of Robert Frost poetry. The Road Not Taken was one of the first poems I read in the book. I was familiar with the famous stanza mentioned above — it was printed on the back of the book. When I read the whole poem, The Road Not Taken became one of my favorite poems. This is not because of the famous line, or the poem as a whole, but because of the lesson reading it taught me about the importance of context.

So we’re going to analyze this poem. This might feel a little bit like high school english, but I think your time will be well spent. Rather than isolate a single stanza, let’s look at the entire poem to better understand its meaning. Here is the first stanza:

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

A person arrives at a fork in the road. He stands there for a while and looks down one of the roads.

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

Then he looks down the other path. Note how it is described as being “just as fair.” Then he goes on to describe how it was more grassy and wanted wear, but digresses admitting that they were both “really about the same.” Essentially, both of these roads are the same.

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

The fact that these two paths are about the same is further emphasized here. So far this is a very different story than the familiar stanza isolated by itself. Then, he makes his choice and takes the second path – knowing that he can go back another day and do the other, but realizing that will likely never happen.

Then comes the famous part:

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I —
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Do you see it? This is not a poem about taking new and adventurous paths. Taking the path less traveled is in fact a lie. In context of the entire poem, The Road Not Taken appears to say that we have a tendency as people to embellish the past and make our choices seems more grand and noble than they actually are. By better understanding the full context around an idea, the truth of an idea becomes more apparent.

But that is not the full story. There is more context to consider.

Prior to this poem being written, Frost and his friend Edward Thomas, another poet, would frequently go on walks together. On their walks they would frequently come to forks in the road, requiring that they pick a path to go down. Thomas often expressed regret for taking the wrong path.

To prove a point, and poke a little fun at his friend, Frost decided to help his friend out. He wrote a poem and sent a draft to Thomas. Essentially this poem is a wise joke to a friend about just picking a path and not looking back. Contrast that with the generally misunderstood meaning that you should take the road less traveled.

Really Frost is saying just pick a road.

Over the years the poem has taken on an ironic meaning by parts of the poem being taken out of context and passed along to others. We live in a society where opinions are made by reading Tweets and news stories are taken out of context, spliced up, and spread across the internet.

As a designer I like this poem because it is a good reminder to me to try and understand the whole picture. For the sake of ease there is a temptation to look at data, research, and feedback at face value. But really, things aren’t often what they first appear to be and sometimes things take on new meanings that we never intended.

If we want to design well, it is vital that we make the effort to understand the context around the problems we are trying to solve and realize that our solutions may inevitably take on new meanings.

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I’m Scott Raney. I’m a designer that believes design is thinking through making. At the core of making things that make humans happy are happy humans making things.

Further Reading
http://www.todayifoundout.com/index.php/2015/09/robert-frost-poem-killed-friend/
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CSxjxhrwg5s
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44272/the-road-not-taken

Design Systems

A Tale of Two Gardens

Once upon a time there lived two gardeners. Each was hired by the City Director to plant a garden for the city. The first gardener wanted to plant the garden as quickly as possible. He immediately purchased the most beautiful plants he could find and planted them in the ground. When completed, the garden looked very beautiful. The City Director was very happy with the garden and paid the gardener generously. It was a different story for the second gardener.

The second gardener moved slowly. Instead of buying plants, he asked the City Director questions, “what kind of garden should we grow? Will the garden produce food? Will it be an herb garden? Is the purpose of the garden to be a place to relax?”

After some discussion it was determined that a nearby bee colony in the city really needed some help. A garden that would help support that bee colony would help beautify all the flowers in the city and make the city a nice place for everyone to live.

The City Director was excited to get things moving and asked the second gardener to plant the garden. The gardener informed the City Director that the time was not right, he would need to do some research first. He needed answers to some questions:

• What is the soil like?

• What is the climate like?

• How big will the garden need to be to support the bee colony?

• What kind of flowers does this species of bees like?

• How will the garden be maintained?

The gardener informed the City Director that this would take a week to complete. The City Director was frustrated with the second gardener. He wondered why he was wasting his money on an unproductive gardener, especially when the other gardener already finished planting.

Things continued to get worse for the City Director. While the second gardener was off doing research, the first garden transformed into a weed garden and died. Now the City Director didn’t have any gardens, one was dead and the other hadn’t been planted.

The next week the second gardener approached the City Director with his research. They discussed the soil type, climate, and all the beautiful flowers that would be planted.

The second gardener laid out a plan for how the garden would be maintained. He determined that now was the right time to plant the garden, but would need some help. The second gardener would need resources to help dig and lay the drip system. This would ensure the flowers would get the right amount of water. He would also need to have a team create clear labels for each plant. This would allow city workers to adequately care for each plant as the garden grew over time.

In total, the garden would take about a month to plant. Additionally, he informed the City Director that the garden would require regular maintenance in order to remain healthy and beautiful.

The City director was a little surprised by the amount of time and work this would take. But with the first garden dead he didn’t want to take any chances. Reluctantly he moved forward with the second gardeners plan.

As predicted, the garden took a month to complete. When the garden was completed it looked just as beautiful as the other garden. However, there were a few major differences between the gardens. The most obvious was that the second garden was flourishing, while the first garden was dead. Furthermore, the second garden continued to grow, becoming more and more beautiful as it matured. The garden successfully supported the bee colony and beautified the entire city.

In the end both gardeners were paid and the city director received the two gardens he paid for, only one of which was what he wanted.

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What I have learned about design systems

Why did the second garden succeed and the first fail? Well, he started with some important questions:

• What kind of garden should we grow? Will the garden be to produce food? Will it be an herb garden? Is the purpose of the garden to be a place to relax? (What kind of design system should be built? Does it serve a single product? What types of products will the system support?)

• What is the soil like? (What is the technical landscape like? What frameworks will it run on?)

• What is the climate like? (What is the corporate culture like? What are the politics like?)

• How big will the garden need to be to support the bee colony? (How expansive will the system need to be to support the product/products?)

• What kind of flowers does this species of bees like? (What elements does the system need to support the product?)

• How will the garden be maintained? (How will the design system be maintained?)

There are more factors than just the design team that influence a design system. I have learned that the most influential factor on a design system is not the design team, not a product manager, and certainly not the user — instead it is the organization itself that the design system serves. It’s how business is done in the organization. It’s how politics work. It’s how different departments work together. It’s the different frameworks your products are built on. It’s HR policy. Ultimately, it’s the soil you plant in.

When you understand what kind of soil you are planting in you can determine what kind of plants will thrive in that soil. Doing this ensures that your design system grows and matures.