At 65° latitude, the summertime is long and rosy with interminable russet sunrises and sunsets, crisp clean air flowing languidly in and out of your lungs, and chipper neighbors with easy smiles. The wintertime is longer still, with months spent below -40 (Fahrenheit or Celsius? Irrelevant because this is the temperature where the two scales intersect). The sun peeks up above the horizon only for a few hours, and then quickly retreats when it realizes how hellish this place has become. The bowl-shaped depression that cradles Fairbanks is filled with a polluted icefog, a haze of crystalline hydrocarbons that singes nostrils and burns lungs, turning everyone into an asthmatic smoker. This inhospitable wasteland, in which the very air is trying to kill you, is where monsters are born. You'll find many of those monsters passing guard, pivoting for armbars, and cinching up triangles at the aptly-named Frostbite Vale Tudo, home of the 10th Planet Fairbanks hotbox.
The instructor is Gerrit Butler, a very slick purple belt under Eddie Bravo. He grew up here in the Frozen Northlands, and the nightmarish environment undoubtedly infused his childhood with toughness. If this was a videogame, he'd be a Barbarian with +2 STR, +3 CON, and magic resistance. These bonuses were apparently accrued by the gym's patrons as well; I've never been to a gym where the white and blue belts are so difficult to tap. In spite of this toughness, or perhaps because of it (nobody is posturing when there are more important things to worry about, like "Where the hell did I put my mittens? OMG, my fingers will spontaneously start bleeding and fall off if I don't find my goddamned mittens!), everyone is incredibly friendly, welcoming, and helpful to beginners.
The gym itself is inside a rustic brown wooden building. A downward step past the tiny front door onto padded or carpeted floors left me feeling like I'd entered a cozy nest. A kind-eyed Irish bulldog greeted me lazily at the small front desk, where training gear and personal bags were hanging all over the place. The thuds and grunts of hard MMA sparring could be heard from the hexagonal (good job avoiding copyright infringement) cage in the adjacent room. Upon entering the long room with not just cage but mats and boxing ring, I was greeted politely by several of the waiting spar-ers as they'd been expecting me. I had been honored when Gerrit had asked me to teach class, and I was very excited to do so.
Almost everyone arrived on or before time, which was quite a pleasant change after the leisurely pace of SoCal where starting times are merely hinted suggestions. Nobody expressed any surprise when I asked them to warm up by doing cartwheels and walking on their hands; I got the feeling that they would perform virtually any physical action I asked, no matter how goofy or exerting. The rest of the class went wonderfully as I led them through warmup series F and then focused on Z guard, showing an armdrag and several rubber guard attacks from the position. People were quiet and extremely attentive as I tried my best to break down the relevant details of each technique. Subsequently, I was able to get only a few taps against much smaller guys during almost thirty minutes of rolling; evidence of the toughness I mentioned previously. Whenever I payed attention to other groups' sparring, I often noticed the very same techniques we had just covered in class, which is always a promising sign. After the class, a few people were showing me some techniques as well, albeit somewhat shyly at first. However, I reassured them that my knowledge of the game is extremely porous and that I can learn about as much from a blue belt as he can from me.
It is truly wonderful to have come so far from my home at 10th Planet HQ and to find something immediately comfortable. Having finally left the roost, I now have no fear that my jiujitsu will regress or stagnate; I find the same spirit of openness and innovation here. Though the 10th Planet initially crashed into Los Angeles, the impact has cast fragments even as far as the Frozen North, where they have begun to take root. Thank you, Gerrit, for creating this far-flung bastion of the system where we can grow our skills free from dogma and arrogance, where we can elevate each other towards the best possible versions of self, and where, hopefully, the bitter cold will serve not as an obstacle, but as a crucible.
The instructor is Gerrit Butler, a very slick purple belt under Eddie Bravo. He grew up here in the Frozen Northlands, and the nightmarish environment undoubtedly infused his childhood with toughness. If this was a videogame, he'd be a Barbarian with +2 STR, +3 CON, and magic resistance. These bonuses were apparently accrued by the gym's patrons as well; I've never been to a gym where the white and blue belts are so difficult to tap. In spite of this toughness, or perhaps because of it (nobody is posturing when there are more important things to worry about, like "Where the hell did I put my mittens? OMG, my fingers will spontaneously start bleeding and fall off if I don't find my goddamned mittens!), everyone is incredibly friendly, welcoming, and helpful to beginners.
The gym itself is inside a rustic brown wooden building. A downward step past the tiny front door onto padded or carpeted floors left me feeling like I'd entered a cozy nest. A kind-eyed Irish bulldog greeted me lazily at the small front desk, where training gear and personal bags were hanging all over the place. The thuds and grunts of hard MMA sparring could be heard from the hexagonal (good job avoiding copyright infringement) cage in the adjacent room. Upon entering the long room with not just cage but mats and boxing ring, I was greeted politely by several of the waiting spar-ers as they'd been expecting me. I had been honored when Gerrit had asked me to teach class, and I was very excited to do so.
Almost everyone arrived on or before time, which was quite a pleasant change after the leisurely pace of SoCal where starting times are merely hinted suggestions. Nobody expressed any surprise when I asked them to warm up by doing cartwheels and walking on their hands; I got the feeling that they would perform virtually any physical action I asked, no matter how goofy or exerting. The rest of the class went wonderfully as I led them through warmup series F and then focused on Z guard, showing an armdrag and several rubber guard attacks from the position. People were quiet and extremely attentive as I tried my best to break down the relevant details of each technique. Subsequently, I was able to get only a few taps against much smaller guys during almost thirty minutes of rolling; evidence of the toughness I mentioned previously. Whenever I payed attention to other groups' sparring, I often noticed the very same techniques we had just covered in class, which is always a promising sign. After the class, a few people were showing me some techniques as well, albeit somewhat shyly at first. However, I reassured them that my knowledge of the game is extremely porous and that I can learn about as much from a blue belt as he can from me.
It is truly wonderful to have come so far from my home at 10th Planet HQ and to find something immediately comfortable. Having finally left the roost, I now have no fear that my jiujitsu will regress or stagnate; I find the same spirit of openness and innovation here. Though the 10th Planet initially crashed into Los Angeles, the impact has cast fragments even as far as the Frozen North, where they have begun to take root. Thank you, Gerrit, for creating this far-flung bastion of the system where we can grow our skills free from dogma and arrogance, where we can elevate each other towards the best possible versions of self, and where, hopefully, the bitter cold will serve not as an obstacle, but as a crucible.
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Originally Posted by ScottP
