Lizzy Scully

My step-grandma died 2 days ago. For the past week and now, every day during meditation I wish her happiness and peace in her next life. And I imagine us holding hands when I was really young as we walked around her and Grandpa's farm house, our yearly visits to the doll museum, sitting in the meadow underneath the house by the stream having a picnic, eating recently-thawed peaches that she took out of the freezer especially for me during my visits, her puttering around the kitchen, the garden, and the compost bin (my 1st experience with compost), playing Scrabble with her and Grandpa by the fire in the living room while it snowed outside, assembling huge puzzles, her tucking me in at bedtime. And more recently, calling her for my brother's favorite apple sauce recipe. She was newly engaged (Grandpa died years ago). I didn't know because I hadn't talked with her for a year. With love, to Greta.

http://lizzy-scully.tumblr.com/ Hosted by Oskar Blues Brewery: I am organizing a fundraiser for the Town of Lyons Colorado trails & parks, which were completely destroyed during the flood. We have postponed the event to Saturday, March 22. I'll be doing a brief multi-media show on alpine rock climbing in Greenland, which will be followed by a Boulder Mountainbike Alliance freeride film, & another to-be-announced short film. Plus, the awesome dance band Meniskus will be closing out the night. Get ready for a sweet evening out in Lyons. We also will have an auction with gear provided by Petzl, Metolius Climbing, GORE-TEX Products North America, Mountain Hardwear, Evolv, & many more awesome outdoor industry businesses. Thanks for all your support! — with Quinn Brett and John Dickey in Greenland.

Today I am grateful for the New Year. I feel better. I feel fresh, like my community and I have a whole new year to explore options for rebuilding our town; like we have another year of further growing friendships that were planted as seeds in the mud that filled Lyons in September. I am excited. And I am sad. I have been sad since the floods hit. Most people don’t understand how I feel; my family and my friends (even as close as boulder) don’t get why I don’t want to leave Lyons. And I don’t expect them to understand. It is enough that they have come to visit me, that they love me. And, please know loved ones, it is OK that I am sad. Thank you for wanting my sadness to go away; but it likely won’t for awhile. And that is OK. There is richness in feeling the full spectrum of emotions. I appreciate and welcome that into my life. Plus, it is not just my sadness; it belongs to all the community of Lyons. I share this deep sense of loneliness with so many people here. “It doesn’t matter if ten people are around,” my friend said to me the other day. “I still feel lonely.” He cried when he read the flood book his mom gave him for Christmas. I have shared so many hugs and tears with people. And it has been a really beautiful thing. I wouldn’t change my experiences these last few months because I feel more open, loved, and a part of a community than I ever have before. It's magical, and I am grateful for it. The only thing I hope for is that all the people who want to be in Lyons can come back.

My bud Marc and I explored the "new" South St. Vrain Canyon. We found washed out trails, landslides, and a totally scoured, wide & deep riverbed, but mostly untouched granite crags high above. Check out this sick, steep granite aid line (last pic in the series). It looks like it would go free, and I'm surprised no one has ever tried it as it's pretty aesthetic. But, no one ever goes into the #SSV. We were probably the only climbers in the canyon on Sunday. #ILoveLyons

Life is equal parts joy and sadness, and I appreciate and am diving into both. I'm learning that maybe they are actually one and the same.

Thank you, Lyons Volunteers. These photos were taken at Planet Bluegrass. xoxoxo

I feel better when I'm working, when I'm shoveling dirt along with amazing people who don't think twice about helping the folks of Lyons. People are kind. People are cool. I am so grateful every day. Today was the best day I've had in months. I felt happy. I worked alongside dozens of volunteers at #PlanetBluegrass. I bought coffee at the #StoneCup. I ate chicken soup with veggies with many friends on my front porch. I played my mandolin. I tried to sing, but my voice is hoarse. I sang anyway. And I cried. And I laughed. And then I watched 1000 people walk around Lyons, dressed in the best Halloween costumes I have ever seen. I'm so psyched to see my friends and neighbors coming home, shops opening, lights turning on. #LyonsStrong #ILoveLyons

A perfect fall day is one with two handfuls of raspberries picked off the vine, clean laundry hanging in the backyard, a swept house and washed bathroom, dishes left for tomorrow, a huge pot of chicken soup steaming up the kitchen, a long, gentle bike ride through Lyons, and a rest on a sandstone outcropping overlooking Cottonwood trees that shimmer as late afternoon sun shines on their autumn gold leaves. I am grateful.

I've felt confused since the floods, unsure about everything but unable to pinpoint anything in particular. I feel sadness, but I'm also grateful for my community. I feel numb sometimes, but less so than I did immediately after the flood. I'm still not used to the destruction that is Lyons, Colorado. I'm still not used to the cobble stones and waves of mud that are everywhere, the fact that there are very few kiddos in a town where 25% of the population is 18 or under. Every day that I explore I find some other place where the floods wrecked a home, a business, a road, a tree... Just a few days ago I spent a few hours cleaning trees at Planet Bluegrass, which is where this poem originated. Somehow volunteering and also expressing myself through words and photos is helping me heal. I hope it helps others as well. Time to go back to sleep. 4:30a.m. With love to my community.

These were taken of 36 between Lyons and Pinewood. My friend walked up to her home in Pinewood a few days after the floods.

The culmination of all my social media storytelling efforts is this piece I published on The Cleanest Line yesterday. It includes a written component as well as an audio-visual component. There are two videos, which are audio stories that I actually recorded in the field on my iPhone. I edited those audio stories and then set them to videos and photos that I took while in Greenland. They are a very personal account of my solo experience to a valley that neighbored the one in which we were climbing. I had to stop climbing because of a bad burn on my foot, so I decided to explore Greenland a bit. My intention was to backpack over and check out the river in the neighboring valley. I found no fish, but I did discover a gorgeous landscape, steep rock walls, and a lot of interesting things about myself.

#facesoflyons #ilovemytown #coloradofloods

I recorded this piece as part of my multi-media efforts to share my perspective on the destruction and rebuilding of the sweet small town of Lyons, Colorado. Floods devastated Lyons about a month ago. I had to leave, along with most residents. But, I returned a week ago to help rebuild the town and to settle into a new and different kind of lifestyle. There are no services in much of town--no sewer, water, or electricity. People living in the hills have their own sewage systems and some even have unpolluted wells. But most people aren't here.

There is beauty and humor in disaster. People come together in new and different ways. I have seen the best of people this last week since I've been home. I've been lonely, but friends call or stop by every day. Steve from Hatrock checks on my plumbing and anything else I can't figure out, Scott & Emma let me use their shower (and hot tub!), the Fire Department fed me (a giant plate of roasted pig that I'm still eating). My days are filled with hugs and lots of love. A couple highlights: Red Stone Cyclery's power came back on a few days ago, and happy hour commenced while Dave and Kevin busily built and fixed bikes. The dazed and confused look is gone from people's faces, unless they are just coming back for the first time... And now people are cleaning, rebuilding, opening their businesses. I love it. Oh yea, and I found a SWEET little bouldering wall the other day. Put up a new route. V1 maybe. Traverse. Awesome. I love #Lyons. #coloradofloods has brought this community together. I'm so grateful. #ilovemylife

Map of Lyons flooded areas as I've discovered through my wanderings about town. I drew in the little black lines. This isn't really accurate. It's just what I have seen. And some areas were damaged more than others.

**** On day 2 an island of logs formed and quickly became the home for a small cow. She would have tumbled through five-foot high rapids and under a bridge to find her current, delicate perch. “Poor cow,” everyone muttered. There was no clear way to reach her. “They don’t have enough resources to save livestock right now,” someone noted. A few days later she was gone. “Rescued by FEMA,” said my neighbor.   *** Hundreds of people came to town today. Volunteers from Israel and Denver, dressed in hazmat suits, wearing masks, boots… Everyone covered in mud, moving, carrying, smiling. The Convoy of Hope, Team Rubicon, all the churches, the Red Cross, the Salvation Army, the National Guard… I can’t name you all. Thank you. *** It’s dark again, my second night in Lyons. Past Midnight. All I hear is the river. An owl. I feel lonely, so I'm writing you this story. Earlier I saw two bright eyes in the open space. “What are you? You can go away now,” I shouted. But I’m really not afraid. Should I be? The light of my computer is the brightest thing around in a mile square. But it’s about to die, leaving me in the dark again. My phone flashes. Someone left me a message. “I’ll call you tomorrow or we’ll stop by your house to make sure you get a hot shower and a meal,” says my buddy Steve. “Love to see ya. Bye.”