6 minute read
My Heritage: Jonathan Phelps
You Don’t Know Your Limits if You Don’t Try
Maybe it was growing up on a 600-acre farm along the northern Oregon coast that spawned my sense of adventure, self-reliance and curiosity.
I completed an Ironman triathlon at age 50, climbed several Cascade volcanoes, raced mountain bikes and successfully prospected for gold (albeit just enough for show, not dough). Over the fall, I shifted gears for a different type of challenge: attempting to rebuild the transmission in a Ford Escape SUV. It remained a work in progress when this was written.
I’m kind of a tinkerer, another trait born in my youth when I would disassemble my bike and try, unsuccessfully at first, to put it back together. After a few failed reassemblies, my parents said they would no longer cover repairs; I’d have to walk. Living on a farm with friends miles away, I needed wheels. From then on, I paid careful attention when removing and reinstalling parts after cleaning, lubricating or repairing. Maybe that’s why I’m not afraid to try challenging repairs, like dismantling a transmission. Today’s YouTube DIY videos certainly help.
I’m not one to sit around. I like to do stuff, try stuff and challenge myself.
I remember channel surfing one morning at about age 10 and saw coverage of the Ironman triathlon in Hawaii with its grueling 2.4-mile swim, 112-mile bike ride and 26.2-mile run. I watched to the end and told myself I would finish a triathlon someday. Maybe not the world championship in Hawaii but an Ironman somewhere.
In 2017, not getting any younger, I figured it was time. I signed up for the 2018 Whistler Ironman (also known as Ironman Canada) in British Columbia and trained almost daily for nine months. At age 50, I completed the race, all 140.6 miles of swimming, biking and running. People tell me they would struggle with the swim, but growing up around the ocean and rivers, I was comfortable. Swimming was the most peaceful and enjoyable part because it was the first leg of the triathlon; I wasn’t exhausted yet. Swimming at sunrise, the scenery was inspiring. Each time I turned my head to breathe, I was entranced by the sun rising over the mountains. Watching the sun come up while swimming, it doesn’t get much better than that.
Nor does it get much better than being atop a mountain at sunrise on a clear winter morning after a fresh snowfall. One morning in the Olympics, I made first tracks hiking to a summit and watched the sun come up behind Mount Rainier as it cast its massive shadow over the valleys below. I felt like I was with the angels up there.
I’ve yet to climb Mount Rainier, but I will someday. Oregon’s highest peak, Mount Hood, is on my list, too. I’ve done Mount Adams, Baker and St. Helens (post-eruption) in Washington. Like trying to fix a transmission, you don’t know what your limits are if you don’t try.
I’ve also learned to be more careful mountaineering after a close call descending Mount Baker. My climbing companions and I had un-roped from each other on the lower mountain where the terrain mellows. I was in the rear, a ways back, and nearly fell into a crevasse when my footing gave way leaping across. Fortunately, my momentum carried me forward, but I’ve wondered if my companions would have found me. The lesson: don’t un-rope until the descent’s over—and never take nature for granted.
My other joys are mountain biking and gold prospecting.
As a kid, I found biking was not only a means to visit friends but to make money. I’d collect discarded cans and bottles on rides, put them in a bag and redeem the nickel-per-container deposits at the local convenience store. With my earnings, I’d buy a treat and drink, and sometimes have enough money left to play a game of Galaga.
As mountain bikes became popular, I found them useful for traversing the farm and trails, then graduated to competing, finishing top three in various races for my age category. I haven’t raced in a few years. Now I enjoy mountain bike trips with friends. We’ll ride during the day and camp at night. Our trips have included Bend, Oregon; Cle Elum, Ellensburg and Spokane, Washington; and Penticton and Revelstoke, British Columbia. At Revelstoke, we chartered a helicopter, which dropped us atop Mount Cartier for a beautiful and long descent.
Sometimes I pack my gold-prospecting equipment on rides along rivers. As a kid, I became interested in searching for gold on the farm and got a gold pan one Christmas. The river at the farm didn’t “pan” out, but I’ve found gold in rivers near my home in Kitsap County, Washington, enough to fill the bottom of a vial and be a conversation piece. I’m exploring areas along the Interstate 90 corridor toward Cle Elum and up U.S. Highway 97 into Blewett Pass. I’ll do more there in the spring. If I’m not biking, I combine gold panning with fly fishing.
Someday I hope to take my grandkids gold hunting. My wife, Michelle, and I are expecting our first grandchild in late March. Our son and daughter-in-law, who live nearby in Bremerton, are having a girl. We also have a daughter who’s a grad student at the University of Washington.
Metaphorically speaking, I also like the idea of trying to find gold for bank clients, to uncover their needs and discover solutions. If there are funding hurdles, I want to help clients clear them and reach their personal finish line. That’s something, I can attest, that’s always rewarding.
About the contributor
Jonathan Phelps is vice president-branch relationship manager at Heritage Bank’s Gig Harbor, Washington, banking center. He’s been with Heritage since August 2024. He has about 15 years of management experience in the industry in the Port Orchard, Bainbridge Island, Silverdale and Gig Harbor markets. He’s responsible for overseeing day-to-day operations, managing a dynamic team of other banking professionals and fostering strong relationships with clients and community partners. He’s an expert in merchant services and cash flow analysis, which helps his clients prepare for financial goals and unexpected setbacks.
