In it together

For some couples, married or otherwise, merely going out to try that new Congolese or Finnish restaurant down the street, or taking a chance on that wacky Steven Segal dramedy at the Seven Gables constitutes the outer reaches of adventure.

Then there are other couples. Those "power couples." The ones who go bungee jumping on their first date, who like to get to know each other while jumping out of planes, or clinging to a rock. We don't understand them, but gosh darnit, we want to be like them.

Someone to count on

High on a rock face in the Alaska Range, or Banff National Park or Donner Summit, or some other harsh and remote place where the only things preventing you from falling to certain death are your fingertips, the strength of your rope and your brain, you have to know that your climbing partner has the skills to save you. To navigate the wilderness to get help if you should you fall in a crevasse and break your leg.

True, it's a bit more than what most other couples do to test themselves and each other, but when alpinists Dale Remsberg, 28, and Kristie Arend, 30, attempt their next rock-climbing challenge, they know they can communicate better than most other climbing teams; they anticipate each other's moves, rely on each other's strengths, because they know and trust each other so well.

Remsberg, who grew up hiking and climbing the mountains around Winthrop, Okanogan County, is a rock-climbing and ice-climbing guide. Arend is a pharmacist, but started climbing while in college in New Mexico. She spends most of her free time training at the climbing gym or traveling with Remsberg to the best climbing spots in the Northwest.

The two met in 1996 while ice climbing in Banff, picking their way up frozen waterfalls with steel-point crampons and ice picks. They both had a passion for climbing, and have been together since.

Remsberg and Arend lift weights to stay in shape; they train by climbing as often as they can. They have calf muscles like rocks, arms like ropes.

"It's a lot more to do with technique and mental abilities," Remsberg said. "Kristie climbs smart, she's under control."

Although the couple trains for power and endurance, they say climbing is more about finesse, technique, and control. Climbers have to know when to rest and how to travel safely through the mountains, and must anticipate how the nature of ice and snow can change overnight.

It is a tough lifestyle to maintain. The two travel constantly - they just got back from Donner Summit; before that, they were in the Enchantments in Eastern Washington. They go to Smith Rock State Park in Central Oregon almost every weekend during the spring and fall.

"You get off work at 5, start driving," Arend says. "You get there six hours later. Inevitably, I forget to pack something he never leaves home without. You go to work tired on Monday, you deal with the loads of dirty laundry that never get done."

In the end, it's better to have someone to rely on - not just to save you from falling into a crevasse or dying of exposure - but to prop you up when you're at the end of your rope, emotionally.

"It's easier to be able to have an emotional breakdown, to get snappy or break down in tears with him," Arend said, than it would be with a regular climbing partner.

And, of course, "When you spend several weeks in a tent on a glacier with somebody, without showering . . . " Arend laughed.

When you gotta fly

Geoff Farrington met Jessie Aikins while skiing at White Pass. He heard her talking to someone about skydiving, and he had wanted to try it.

She would be his instructor. Love and marriage would ensue, and later a family of skydivers.

Some people were just born wanting to learn how to skydive.

That's what Jessie Farrington says as she explains why their family portrait has the whole lot of them, not sitting in a Sears Portrait Studio, but clamped together, hand to wrist, and in formation, hurtling toward the ground at terminal velocity, Mount Rainier in the background.

Perhaps there's a gene for fearlessness?

Jessie's father, a motorcycle-riding World War II fighter pilot, did almost anything athletic, and his children were raised to be the same way.

"We were poor," said Jessie Farrington, who grew up in Puyallup. "And sports were cheap."

She was 15 when she first jumped from the sky.

"Your whole body says, `don't throw me out of this airplane!' " Farrington said. "You have to be strong enough of mind to overcome that. I told myself, don't worry about it. Either way, it'll be over in a minute."

She went on to become an accomplished skydiver. Their daughter, Keri, was just a thumb-sucking polliwog when she made her "first jump" - still gestating in her mother's womb when Jessie won her first National Para-Ski Championship, a biathlon of precision parachuting and giant slalom ski racing. The couple has won a couple of gold medals in World Championship of Para-Skiing team competition.

As babies, the Farrington children, Keri and Andy, rode in their parents' backpacks as they skied down mountains. In kindergarten, Andy walked up to another kid and said to him, "How many jumps does your mother have?"

Skydiving has become an all-consuming hobby and a career for the Farringtons. They run Kapowsin Air Sports, a jump center that teaches skydiving. Their children work there, too, flying, jumping and teaching. Both are members of the U.S. Para-Ski team.

Maybe the brains of adventurous people are wired differently - their electrical pulses jump from synapse to synapse more excitedly at the sight of the ground rushing at them, or the quick surge of the stomach in acceleration. Or maybe it's just an incredible feeling to defy the physical laws that restrict most other ordinary, earthbound people.

"You really get to fly," says Jessie. "Just like a bird."

Caitlin Cleary can be reached at 206-464-8214. Her e-mail address is ccleary@seattletimes.com.

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If You Go

For those interested in jumping with the Farringtons, call Kapowsin Skydiving at 800-268-6778 or 360-893-3483. To get there, take Highway 161 south toward Eatonville, Pierce County. Turn left on 264th Street, and at the first stop sign, turn right. Go a half-mile, and at 272nd Street, look for signs for the jump center on the left. For more information about skydiving, call the U.S. Parachute Association at 703-836-3495.

Vertical World, 2123 W. Elmore St. in Seattle, has facilities for both the most experienced and novice climbers. For more information, call 206-283-4497.