“Can you define ‘adventuring’ for me?”

A blog written by Alex Ziko, after I asked him to define adventure for me when I saw he was going to have adventures in Acadia, Maine. 

-Craig

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Park Ranger: Welcome to Acadia, how can I help you?

Me: Hi, I need a campsite

Park Ranger: Sure, Our sites are $20 a night. Will you be needing a park pass for you visit?

Me: Yes, please

Park Ranger: There is a list of pass options at the bottom of your registration sheet

Me: Is one week really the shortest option? I’m only staying for three days

Park Ranger: Yes

Me: (pause) Uh, really? Ok, I guess I’ll take one of those then.

Park Ranger: That will be $20 please

I never had plans to share my ‘adventure’ in Acadia with the Internet until Craig asked me. Adventures with Intentions: a blog about sharing memories of your expeditions seems like something of a paradox to me. My most memorable adventures were unquestionably unintentional. However, here you are reading with transfixed eyes eagerly awaiting to hear about my ‘adventure’ and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you be disappointed. So before you read further - turn off the cell phone in your pocket, switch your Gmail chat icon to ‘busy’ and pour yourself another cup of coffee. This is a long tale and should be savored like a fine wine in front of a woodfire. Are you sitting comfortably? Then let us begin.

I woke up early Tuesday morning in the Blackwoods campground, after a very restful night. I made myself a cup of coffee and a quick breakfast of sausage and eggs. Zak Robinson was kind enough to lone me his Whisperlite for my trip. However he neglected to tell me it only had two settings, “off” and “inside the sun.” Once my miraculously unburnt breakfast was finished I cleaned up my site and set off to the Ocean Path. This is a trail that spans the shoreline from Sand Beach to Otter Point and is quite picturesque when the morning sun is shinning and warming the rocks still retaining their chill from the night before. I was enjoying both the warmth of the sun on my face and of the coffee making its way from my travel mug into my innards. Thinking to myself “I wonder if I still have my sunglasses in my car glove-box back at camp?” when I heard a scream from the rocks to my right. At first I thought it was the cry of a seagull until I realized that there was a women in hysterics down on the rocks. Her husband had turned his back to the ocean to take a picture of his wife when a wave had crashed over him pulling him out to sea. I dropped my coffee, kicked off my shoes and dove into the freezing water. Swimming out to the drowning man I grasped him by his shirt collar and pulled him to me. As wave after wave crashed over our heads, I wrapped my arm around his chest and with all my strength bicycle-kicked my way to shore in a form that would have made my lifeguard instructor Candice Raines proud. Ok, so that didn’t really happen. The walk was really pretty though, and unbeknownst to me it’s a rather popular path in the park. Lucky for me I happened on it by accident, I was just looking for a nice short morning walk to start my day.

When I got back to my campsite after my walk I ate a brief early lunch and consulted my map. The Cadillac Mt. South Ridge trail travels from the campground to the summit. The mountain is arguable the most popular spot in the park for many reasons. It holds a panoramic view of Bar Harbor, the surrounding islands and other mountain peaks. It is also the first place in the country to see sunlight, depending on the time of year. Wanting to see the woods and noticing that I could access other trails from this one. I decided to pack my daypack and see where the afternoon took me. I hiked almost to the summit before I detoured down the Bubble Pond trail in an effort to hike a few of the Carriage roads. At this point I was in the center of the island. Off the path from all the major tourist attractions of the park and in the perfect position to really take in the kind of esoteric tranquility that only the Maine woods and it’s foliage can offer. I was reminded of a small art project that my friend Lauren Borst told me about years ago. She wanted to collect as many leaves as she could and mount them in a line showing a gradual progression from one shade of color to the next. I heard the trotting of horse hooves behind me, and my mind was snapped back to the present. I looked over my shoulder as a young, beautiful women, on horseback came riding up next to me and to my disbelief, she was completely nude! Her long flowing blond hair catching rays of sunshine contrasting the bright leaves behind her. She spoke perfect English however there was an accent that I couldn’t quite place. German? Swiss? “Do you know ze vay back to zee stables” she asked me “I’m lost and I’m afraid my grandpapa vill be vorried sick” “I have a map right here” I said “but without it how will I get back to my campsite?” I asked “There is no need, silly” she giggled “There is plenty of space for you at my Grandpapa’s mansion, and I get so frightened at night who else is there to keep me company?” Guess what? Yeah, that didn’t happen either. I took one of the Carriage roads to the park loop path and then promptly got lost almost ending up in Steal Harbor before I caught my mistake. I turned around walking the road in the right direction back the way I came. As I walked the side of the surprisingly busy park loop road dodging speeding Oldsmobiles of retired couples and mammoth busses of Asian tourists I thought to myself “god, how embarrassing this is going to be if a Park Ranger pulls up and asks me if I need a ride.” If that happens don’t half ass your part, Ziko. Just pull out your map and do your best to fake a British accent.” No, a tour bus didn’t crush me and the local law didn’t stop me on the side of the road. I did make it back to the campground and my planned 6 or 7-mile hike easily turned into an 11 or 12-mile ramble. Lesson learned, either pick one or two day hikes and drive to the trailhead…. or don’t plan anything and bring a Mt. Bike.

The next day was overcast a chilly. Since I was in no mood to do anymore walking I decided to drive the park loop stopping at all the popular spots to park and have a look around. I’m glad I got in all my hiking the day before since I think the less than perfect weather thinned the crowds. Sand Beach was pristine and Thunder Hole was impressive. Driving the park loop was beautiful and even though I wasn’t having a “backcountry experience” it didn’t prevent me from having a connection to the natural world outside my car. I stopped into the Jordan Pond house to have a look around and learn more about the historical background of the park. In the gift shop I admired the scented candles and oversized sweat shirts displaying large block lettering, ACADIA and MAINE THE WAY LIFE SHOULD BE. I was deeply immersed in a book on the attractions of the park when out of the corner of my eye I saw a dark figure approach the register. “Empty the drawer, the cash or your life bitch.” “He’s got a gun!” one of the elderly sales clerks shouted. The man turned his pistol at the old women. Acting on instinct I turned and my arm shot out snatching a glass jar of Made in Maine Maple Syrup off the shelf behind me. Taking aim and throwing it like a baseball at a carnival game stand it shattered on impact meeting the thugs face. “Arghh!” he shouted stumbling backward. “My eyes! You got Made in Maine Maple Syrup in my eyes!” I leapt the distance from the bookshelf to the gunmen; wrestling the gun out of his hand, it fell to the floor and I kicked it across the gift shop. Grabbing the thug’s collar I pinned him against the wall. “Paper or plastic scumbag!” I shouted as my right fist made contact to his left cheek.POW! Knocked out cold he slid to the ground as a trail of Made in Maine Maple Syrup streaked the wall from where he once stood to his limp body on the floor. Nope, that didn’t really happen either. But I did get some information on some really interesting day hikes that I didn’t get a chance to do and will definitely come back for next fall.

That evening the forecast called for rain all night and into the morning. So I decided that instead of breaking camp in the cold morning rain I’d pack up and leave early. On my way out the park there was one more thing I wanted to do, drive to the top of Cadillac Mt. It was my way of saying goodbye to Acadia and letting it know that I had fun and will be back again soon.

At the top overlooking the entire park my mind was left to wander as it always does. I looked down at the carabiner with its single strip of black electrical tape I’ve worn on my belt loop ever since February 11, 2010. I thought about where I was in my life, how lucky I was to be able to have experience like this and above all share them with friends who I have such a deep connection with. Relationships that are so special and wonderful that I can’t really explain them to other people. Relationships that, in a way I’m glad nobody else can understand. Because if someone else were to fully understand it, that would somehow make that bond less special and tarnish it. If I can easily explain how I feel about all of you to someone who doesn’t know you, and they in turn can easily understand, then how special can that really be? Maybe that’s why Kellen’s death is so hard to take. Not because of the loss of life, but because of the frustration felt not being able to truly explain your feelings to someone who didn’t share the same adventures you shared with such an amazing person. And the people who did share those same adventures aren’t near you during the time of day when you really need a hug from someone who knows.

I can’t define adventure any more than I can define exactly how important my friends are to me. Was my time spent in Acadia an ‘adventure’? You could look at it that way - although not as much as it could have been, clearly. I stepped outside my day to day, I went somewhere I had never really explored before and I had a great time. Anything more than that I’m afraid just didn’t happen.

However, if you don’t believe me I urge you to go up there and have an ‘adventure’ of your own. You can even use the park pass I bought. After all it’s still good for the next four days.

-Ziko

Unexplainable Events on Clinton Road.

Unexplainable events

One of the last trips I lead for Project USE this summer was a three day camping trip on their property off Clinton Road in northern New Jersey.  The reason this trip is making onto this blog is because of some events that happened the first night.

We set up camp in a standard manner.  The four boys had their tent, and across the campsite – about sixty feet away - were the four girls in their tent.  The two chaperones were each in their own tents.  “Sue” was spending her first night in the woods and set her tent up close to the girls’ tent. “John”, who has through hiked the Appalachian Trail, set his up a long distance away, nestled under a hemlock tree.  I had two new instructors working with me and they were sharing a tent near Sue’s.  I waited for everyone to go to bed, and then set out my sleeping pad next to the fire and covered myself under my little bug-net dome. 

As usual, voices were pouring out of the two students’ tents. They were a group of high school freshman and I gave them no specific bed time beside they need to not keep everyone else awake.  This request was obviously being ignored, but I always let it go for a time-being, until I get tired enough to care if I am being kept awake.  My spot was considerably closer to the girls’ tent and I could hear everything they were saying/singing.  Nothing bad was going on except for the volume but I let this go because I could see the boys’ tent was still awake as well.  They were much further away and I had a hard time hearing them – especially over the girls.  I noticed the lights would go out in their tent, things would get quite then all of a sudden the lights would be on and there would be a ruckus coming from the tent.  This didn’t seem too odd because I am very use to these urban youth reacting with great emotion over finding a bug in their tent. The routine was usually the same: there would be screaming, lights swirling all over the inside of the tent, a five minute argument on who is going to squish the thing, then another brief uproar followed by a gradual decrease in volume until silence was reached again.  I assumed this was the case in the boys’ tent that night.  What does assuming do again?

After an unclear amount of time, I decide enough was enough and it was time for my friendly reminder to be quite.  I simply yelled over to the girls’ tent to quite down and go to bed. This worked fine and it was quite.  However, the boys’ tent kept up the same routine of loud chaos, then dark silence for a long time.  I eventually got up to see what the heck was going on.  As I reach the tent, they were up and panicking.  The lights were on and in my most pleasant, middle of the night voice, I asked them to be quite and go to sleep.  They responded in a way I never expected. 

“Craig, there is something spitting on the walls in here!”

“What?” I replied

“Every time we turn the lights out and turn them back on there is more spit on the walls.”

Even though I could see the dime-sized drops of bubbly substance on the walls of the tent from the outside, I was in no mood to try and figure it out that night.

“And something keeps grabbing us through the tent. I think there is a raccoon or a bear out there.” This was the next amazing statement to come from within the glowing tent.

“Oh, and sticks keep flying in through the door and into the tent, and our shoes are hitting us in the head.”

Figuring they were messing with each other and keeping all of camp up, I stated matter-of-factly: “Since there is nothing I can do about it tonight, go to bed and we will figure it out in the morning.”

In hindsight, I am surprised how well this worked.  They quieted down and went to bed.  Not for long of course.  I am not sure how much time passed or what time it was but the next thing I remember was waking up to a flashlight in my eyes and Sue walking towards the four boys who were outside their tent and panicking. I jumped up and headed over to find them all nervously talking about strange events that have been happening to them all night long. Some of the comments were:

“A hand keeps grabbing us through the tent.”

“Our shoes are flying around and hitting us.”

“There is more and more spit on the walls.”

“Something grabbed my foot though the tent.”

“I hear things walking around outside.”

“Something grabbed my head from outside.”

“There must be a bear.”

“Oh yeah, we woke up once and the tent was smaller and we were all squished together in the middle with the walls closing in around us.”

Sue and I looked at each other with the same “what the heck is going on here?” look.  We calmed them down and tried to get an actual story from them.  What we could gather that night and the following day was that there was something messing with them all night and they kept thinking it was one of the other kids in the tent.  So they would turn the lights off, hold each other’s head’s down and wait. Then a shoe would hit on of them, or they would get grabbed. Then they would turn the lights back on and the spit would have increased while the lights were out.  They would check outside and there would be nothing.  As we all stood there in the dark, they were obviously terrified and wanted an explanation.  Sue and I looked at each other and literally had nothing to say besides our questioning their story.  But I have never seen kids this convinced.  I learned that they dealt with it as long as they could then they decided to call for help.  “Craig, Sue, help us!” “Help!” they yelled into the night.  I didn’t hear a thing but the screams woke Sue up and then her flashlight woke me up. 

These boys were shaken and were pacing back and forth.  I literally had no idea what to do.  This was not covered in “Intro to Rec” at Green Mountain College.  I was mentally preparing to hike everyone out to the cabin a half-hour away.  I figured there was no way they were going back to sleep.  Hell, I was getting scared.  But suddenly one boy asked me “Can we move the tent closer to you and go back to bed?”   I was so shocked I instantly said “yes” and grabbed the tent. We carried it over and set it down about fifteen feet from my little mesh dome.  They climbed in, and turned out the lights and went to sleep.  Sue and were left standing there in total disbelief in the story and the fact they just went back to bed.  Sue headed towards her tent and I laid down under the mesh and looked at the starts through the trees and tried not to let my mind wander to scary thoughts. 

As I laid there I tried to make sense of all this.  I know I didn't do anything, I know it was not Sue.  I am pretty sure the other chaperone, John, wouldn’t do it. Plus even if he could there is no way he could move fast enough in the open trees to not be seen by the kids or Sue and I.  The girls were sound asleep and terrified of the dark, so they never left their tent.  And my co-instructors, as discussed the next day, would not scare the bejesus out of kids on their first day as employees.  The obvious next explanation was it was the boys messing with each other.  The only way this could be possible is that one or two of them were doing it and were tremendous actors.  But I saw these kids faces that night and they were not acting.  Plus they all took action to prove it was no one in the tent.  They all stated that they were all in the tent when they were getting grabbed from outside.  And they repeatedly closed the corner of the door where the sticks were coming in, but would later find it open a little bit.  I could think of nothing, so eventually I fell asleep, wondering if I was to be woken up again by their screams.

I woke up to morning and silence.  As everyone else woke, the story started spreading to the rest of the campsite from the four boys, Sue and I.  No one heard anything last night.  And nothing bothered them after moving the tent. 

They whole group came to me for answers. I had none. I found it a tough thing to deal with.  On one hand, I didn’t want to tell them they were messed with by a ghost because they were there to “get more comfortable in the woods”, but on the other hand I did not want to dismiss their shared experience or discount the possibility of something outside of our normal realm of explanation happening.  I have heard enough ghost stories that I know they are not all fabricated.  I simply explained it as a series of unexplainable events. 

The rest of the school was also camping around the property with other instructors. Of course as my crew found the other groups the story had to be told.  And, of course, no one believed them so the other groups came to me for some rational explanation or an admittance that I did it.  I stuck to my story, I told them what I saw and told them it was a series of unexplainable events. 

The most impressive thing about this whole event was the four boys.  After being totally overwhelmed and messed with all night, they felt that moving close to me made enough difference to fall asleep.  Little did they know I was lying on the ground trying not to freak out.  Not only that, they went to bed the next night making jokes about the whole thing and only a little nervous about it happening again.  I guess moving the tent did the trick.  Did we move off a piece of space close to a spirit’s spirit?  Or was the “thing” actually nervous to mess with them close to me? Ha!  I’m going with option A.

The other interesting point I noticed was the progression the names of the thing went through the next day.  It started as a bear, then a thing, then it, then him, then the ghost.  It was as though as the story was told over and over again it sunk in that this might have been what everyone was thinking it was but too afraid to say.  The boys eventually confidently called it a ghost.  And everyone else was not sure what to think.

Then I remembered.  As we were walking out of the campsite the morning of the third day, it hit me.  As I mentioned above, the property is on Clinton Road. Clinton Road is famous in New Jersey for being the most haunted road in the sate.  Look it up in “Weird New Jersey”.  I told the kids this news and we walked out.  So many questions, so few answers.  This was several months ago now, and I still describe it as a series of unexplainable events.  And I like it that way because I think we spend too much time trying to explain everything that happens.         

Chain Driven Toys

A video of Miess and friends.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2MBao5fLR7E

Super Friends!

Hahahahaha, let the comments fly!

What Would Kellen Do?: Explained

Someone asked me recently what does the WWKD expression mean too me.  This is what I wrote:

Kellen and I used to search out adventure in the mountains that we liked to call epic.  We would look for the hardest or most unique way up a mountain, the craziest way down a river, the most miles we could do in a day and hope that things would get tough and nature would throw everything at us.

This happened many times and as things got worse in the backcountry, we had even more fun.  Kellen had a rare ability to be in a trying situation but still have the time of his life.  The harder the wind was blowing, the more snow there was on the ground, the steeper the climb, the colder the air, the happier he got.  We would search for the epic experiences and hope the weather would turn on us or hope we would find something we were not aware was there. 

After a beautiful climb up Roaring Brook on
Giant Mountain in the Adirondacks 

I vividly remember (and I am sure you do too) days of slogging thought waist deep snow in Smugglers Notch, fighting the horizontal ice pellet filled wind on the Presidential Mountains in New Hampshire, and running through lightning storms in the Adirondack mountains trying to get below tree line, or crawling and picking our way through dense stunted alpine trees.  

We would work as hard as our bodies could, and push ourselves mentally to overcome these obstacles.  But it was never frustrating or too hard.  Kellen and I would laugh and even scream with joy.  You could find us laughing while tuck behind a boulder out of the driving wind, or shouting at the top of our lungs into the rain while climbing a rushing waterfall, you might spot us cracking jokes while we are both stuck chest deep in a snow drift, or smiling at each other while our near frozen hands barely cling onto our ice tools 

Through all this we always had fun.  We would search all over New England for “epicness”.  Therefore, the expression “What Would Kellen Do?” means for me what our friend Maggie Burke said best: “When the weather got worse Kellen became his best.”  WWKD helps me remember that in hard times there can still be laughter, friends, fun and a reason to keep going.  I often find myself, during hard times, looking down at my WWKD armband and thinking just that.  After this glimpse of Kellen, my perspective changes and I carry on.

What ever needed to be done is what Kellen would do.   

Lots of Mountains

Recently I went on an epic all day mountain adventure, which has been something I wanted to do since I moved to NH. Mike DeLuca, myself and our friend Ethan set out into the white mountains and our goal ... complete a presi traverse in a single day. After a not so great night of sleep we dropped off a car at the south end, drove another 40 minutes to the north end and left the trailhead at 7am. (Tip #1: start earlier, start in the dark if you can.) We looked in the trail registrar to see if anyone else was doing a traverse, and the only other people that were doing it were planning on doing it in 3 days. After taking a deep breath and rubbing the backs of our necks we were on our way, and we weren't looking back.
Then it was up, up, and more up, and we bagged our first summit by 9:20am, Mt Madison. We took a quick break at the Mt Madison Hut, Ethan and I ate power bars and gorp, while Mike had his first triple whopper with cheese. Then it was more up, down, up, down, then a little bit of back tracking to summit Mt Clay, then a final push up to the top of Mt Washington. (Tip#2: watch what trail you take, it's not always well marked.) We were starting to feel tired and we weren't even half way. So we took a solid break at the summit, we stretched, refilled H20, Mike had his second whopper of the day, then it was back to the trail. (Tip#3: don't stop to watch the highest circus in New England.)
After Mt. Washington you could say it is all down hill from there, but no matter how many times you tell yourself that it is not quite true. Mike probably could have ran the rest of the way to avoid finishing in the dark, but Ethan and I were not in the mood to put our bodies through that. By mid afternoon we got to Mt Monroe, which meant we were over half way and we only had 5 out of 11 peaks to go. We kept pushing at a steady pace and took at least a 30 second break at each peak to take a picture. Just before sunset we took a pit stop at the Mizpah Hut, to relieve our selves and refill on water. From there we had 6.4 miles left, and as we hit the trail again we got some interesting looks from a few Canadian hikers who thought we were crazy.
We were slowly getting more and more tired, but how bad can 6.4 miles be after you have already come 19. I was starting to feel like I was 60 years old, and my pace reflected how I was feeling. To avoid being crushed by our inner bonkasaurus, we took a break at the top of Mt Jackson. A delicious mate bar and a Gu packet come to my rescue, Ethan had some jerky, and Mike, well he didn't think two was enough, so he had his third triple whopper of the day. (FYI the tangerine flavored gu is disgusting, but it was worth it because it had caffeine.)
Slowly but surely we made our way down in the dark, and we were all quiet because some of us were so tired and grumpy we were on the verge of exhaustion. Head lamps were out, and apparently the only headlamp I packed was slightly broken, so it gave me something to complain about for a good 30 minutes. (Tip #4: make sure you pack an extra headlamp and extra batteries.) The trail was loose and scrambly, and I felt like and eighty year old coming down and I murmured swear words to myself every couple of steps, but I kept going because that was the only way I would get to sleep in the own bed that night.
Finally we made it, 11 peaks, 24 miles, 9000+ feet of gain and loose and 16 hours later, we made it. I was grateful to be done and for the sandals and clean clothes I left in the car. For the next couple of days I had a hard time walking, but I was proud of myself for doing something challenging and epic. I told myself several times the next day that I will never do that again but... now that I can walk again I am not so sure I will be able to stick to my work, plus I know I can beat that time and it would be fun to do it in the winter or during a full moon or do it with different people. Until then, there are plenty of other adventure to be had.

Sand, Sun and Friends

Recently I went on an adventure that was basically the opposite of the typical mountain adventure. This one involved sand, the ocean, lots of sun and a air conditioned hotel room after two days of sweaty miserable camping. I went with three of my girls, Jane Jami and Lauren to the Outer Banks of North Carolina. (It's funny that I refer to us as girls because what we truly are are women, and we are proud of it.) I wont go into much detail about what happened down there because I want to keep those memories and stories just between the four of us. We had seen each other briefly back in February, but this was the first time since college that we got to spend more then two days with each other. While were we down there we came up with a term for each other: SUPER FRIENDS. Perhaps at some point in our lives knowing each other we have been best friends, but since college time and distance have made it so that we go days or even months without talking, let alone seeing each other. The fact is I call these girls my super friends because time, distance and the experiences that I have had without each of them has not taken a toll or put a damper on our friendship. (I can actually say this is true with several of my friends because I am not very good at keeping in touch.)

The Outer Banks gave us the opportunity to reconnect and believe me there was a lot of sharing going on. The stories and laughter went on non-stop, and the emotions that tagged along with the stories ran ramped. There was no need or reason for any of us to hold back because we became our own safe haven of love and support - which is another reason why these ladies are super friends.

So when ever life is going well and I feel extremely grateful for all that I have, I realize that a huge reason why things are so wonderful is because I have awesome friends. Climbing mountains, going skiing, going surfing, or drinking beer while tubing s lazy river is fun and all, but doing these things with people is what makes these experiences powerful, memorable and rich. Life without friends and family would suck, so thank you to everybody out there who has been my friend or even is a friend of a friend, you are the reason LIFE IS GOOD.

Now is the Time

I'm moving in two weeks. I have no idea where to or what I'll do when I get there. That statement in and of itself seems completely contradictory to the title of this blog, but I don't really think so. Let me explain.
This past winter I was 3 years into a good paying, year round job that worked out pretty well. My housing and utilities were covered, I worked with some cool people, and I was in an area that I don't think you can compare to many other places in the lower 48. Then something happened that made me do a lot of thinking about my life and just what I was doing with it. Ultimately I decided that the dust settling on my shoulders was not what I'd planned or wanted. I was in a place that "worked" but wasn't really making me happy. It was time to do something about it.
It took a few months before I actually made something happen. It seems the roots had started creeping into the ground a bit further than I had realized. But with an opportunity at hand and some serious scrambling with logistics I packed it all up and went chasing the dream. It was a bit scary at first, it's been a while since my couchsurfing/skiing/boozing/mt. biking days. Here I was, leaving it all behind (so cliche, I know) and jumping back into the unknown. I had a vague direction but no idea what I was really in for.
One of my earliest memories is of a friend of my Dad's who came to visit. I was pretty young but vividly remember his pictures of giant bears, towering mountains, soaring eagles, and leaping fish. Growing up, I always told myself that I would end up there some day and now I was on my way, enough fishing gear for whatever I might encounter, trusty pooch, and a duffel bag of clothes. I had a job offer to be a fly fishing guide in Alaska and there was no stopping me. "The Dream" was at hand.
It's now the end of the season up here, and I'll head south again in a few weeks, pick up the pieces, and be on to the next thing. The summer's been quite the experience to say the least. I've done some amazing things and met some awesome people. A lot of my clients this summer were older gents who told me that they had wanted to come up here and do this their entire lives. Many of them will never get another chance. I saw one guy actually drop a tear or two after landing his first salmon. He may not have been the only one. The point of all this is that no matter what it is, we all have some dream that seems too tough to accomplish. Life gets in the way, so to speak. I followed mine and now I'm about to be homeless, unemployed, and loving it. I don't know what I'll find going forward, maybe something better or maybe something worse, but that's all part of the adventure. I'm not necessarily advocating quitting your job and leaving it all behind. Or maybe I am, I haven't decided on that one yet. Just don't let the dust settle too thick.

Another Kellen Dream

Had a strange dream about you last night. I was giving advice to a friend how to deal with all this. She was terribly upset and would not get off the couch for months. I was telling her that the best thing to do is be with friends. The strange thing is, I realized after I woke up was that this was a friend from high school that never met you. Then you suddenly walked into the room in a really good mood about getting a raise above $7.00 an hour. You were younger (about your sophomore year age) and moving quickly though the room with purpose. Just as you left the room into the hallway I stopped you to see what you were talking about and to see where you were going. You explained you got a raise ( in the dream this made sense). Then you said "I'll be right back." I didn't believe you and did not want you to go. You walked over to the wall, leaned on it, said "I'll be right back" and slowly disappeared. I woke up, not upset this time, just confused.

Walking on Cake.

It was August 10, in the year two thousand and ten. I was in North Conway New Hampshire visiting two wonderful friends. Jane Anderson, who has the beauty of spring wild flowers and the power of afternoon thunderstorms. And Mike Deluca, who has the wisdom beyond his years but the love for life of a nine year.

We stood at the bottom of a climb, I looked up and decided I could lead this one. With Mike giving me a belay and Jane taking pictures and opportunities to give me confidence, I headed up the right sloping broken crack.Easy going and sort of fun moves with good protection filled the bottom twenty feet. After sinking a crappy cam placement and moving out away from it to the right my nerves fired up. Suddenly that cam placement had to be better. I climbed away from this next tricky move to back-up the crappy cam with a much better cam. Now, with two cams (one very good one that I could have trusted alone) I moved right again. Right foot on a sloped hold, left foot on a medium chip I tried to move further. I had two very good underclings to hold on to, but they were at just the wrong angle to give me the confidence I wanted. As I moved further out I started looking for my next foot and hand hold. I saw nothing I wanted to move to. I tried this several times while my eyes searched in vain for my next cam or stopper placement. These moves repeated themselves over and over again far too many times to talk about. After several walks to the right and several retreats back, some curse words, and many words of encouragement from the friends below me I decided to get lowered off and get Jane (the rope gun) to do it.

Jane, the 5.10 climber, jumped on the “sharp end” of the ropes and sauntered up the first 20 feet to the last cam placement. She moved right, out past the cams. With a bit of work she made the move I could not - would not - do. Then she climbed up about a foot and started looking for a place to put a piece of protection. Plucking a yellow Alien off her harness and caming it’s head into one flared crack, then another (that sentence is ridiculous outside the climbing world) she started moving up past this lousy piece of yellow protection. Jane’s minor struggle with the moves and placements made me feel MUCH better. She paused to give Mike, the belayer, a heads up that she needs to run this out a bit and then disappeared over the bulge.

We had double ropes so Mike and I tied in and we started up the climb towards Jane’s hidden belay anchor. With Mike a few moves behind me I got to the spot where my climb was previously destroyed. Now on top-rope, my fear was gone (well, at least diminished a bit), and as Mike said I could probably do, I muscled though the moves with some difficulty but without even a slip. I climbed passed the lousy yellow alien and stopped above it on a large slab to watch Mike come though the section.

Mike’s experience was a bit different. He started moving right but not far enough. He instead did a real hard move straight up towards me, but this put him directly across from the Alien with it just out of reach. In an attempt to get to the cam Mike peeled off the cliff. Not a big deal since he was once again below the cam, which meant he could climb and retrieve it. The problem was that he stopped falling hanging over the adjacent climb that was rated much harder than this climb. With this knowledge he started the upward journey again. The moves were done with ease and speed, I was impressed.

He grabbed the cam and struggled up to where I was standing comfortably. The move above the yellow Alien was in no way easy and a strong move to deal with on lead even if the piece was good. And remember, it wasn’t. Jane’s lead involved not only a tricky move past this shady cam placement but then she had to climb an easy going, yet moderately exposed slab for about thirty feet with no protection (thunderstorm). Mike and I arrived at the tree anchor impressed. Jane politely asked if we wanted to do the second pitch of this climb. After looking at the weird moves and not being able to pick out the exact route, Mike and I decided we did not want to bother with it. Then we noticed that Jane had already set up the rappel before we even got there. I guess the polite question was rhetorical.

Of course the rappel down was riddled with loose rocks and an unsure route, but we made it down, sweaty, tired, sort of disappointed and ready for a real climb.

Did I forget to mention this climb is rated 5.6 and is called Cakewalk and the guidebook gives it one (out of, I presume, one-thousand) stars? We packed up and headed to the North End of Cathedral Ledge.

My Life: with and without Kellen

Hello everyone,

It is 2:45am on August 14, 2010. Six months, 2 days and about nine hours since Jane called me on February 11th to tell me we lost Kellen to an avalanche in Colorado. A few hours ago I got home from a five day trip that started with rock climbing in North Conway New Hampshire with Jane and Mike Deluca and finished with a three day Board of Directors retreat with Mountain Spirit Institute in Southern NH. I now stare at the computer screen during the early morning hours because the memory of Kellen won't let me sleep. I miss him more than anything I have ever missed in my life. I collapsed onto the couch about an hour ago in uncontrollable sobs, while visions of all the things he and I will never do ran through my head. This is why I made this blog. I made it because my life will forever be divided into two parts: the part with Kellen and the part without. I see this blog as a therapeutic tool to help me move into the second part of my life -and hopefully you too. But primarily I see this acting as a resource to keep our friendships strong and connected. But more on that in a bit. First I need to get this off my chest:

The past six months have taught me a lot.

It has shown me that I am not as prepared for moving on past a death as I thought I was. I thought I could accept the fact that Kellen "died doing what he loved" therefore it is okay and I should move on because "he would want me too." But that all sort of sounds contrived to me now. Those concepts do not get me past that fact that he is gone - forever. And forever feels a lot longer than it ever has before. And time is not healing this. I really think I have gotten worse in the last six months. I believe this is because as time goes by I am reminded of how much time will keep going by, without him. This hurts most.

February 11th taught me that nothing is guaranteed, Kellen and I talked years ago about "growing old together" and that stayed with me as we both lived lives separated from each other. In the back of my head, no matter where my life led - up or down - I always knew I would one day live near Kellen and spend our days seeking out epic adventures in the mountains and everything would be the way it should be. Kellen was my light at the end of the tunnel. And knowing we would grow old together made me calm, excited and relaxed all at the same time. But now my life is a long dark tunnel with no light to keep walking towards, no epic journeys at the end calling my name. In a way my life now seems less focused (if that is even possible). However, in this new stage of life (without Kellen) I have a new approach: I want to live life the way he lived - intentional, deliberate, passionate and wide eyed. I want to make less excuses and justifications for not doing things I want or should be doing. I want to move bravely forward and teach the people I meet what it is to really enjoy life because one never know when it might be over, or turned over.

A lesson I am having a hard time accepting is the fact that death is not fair. Almost everyday I get angry at the fact that it was Kellen. I often ask: Why Kellen? He was the best. Best guide, best teacher, best instructor, best facilitator but most painfully he was my best friend. I say that cautiously because I consider many of you my best friend, and I love you more than family. But when I boil it all down it was Kellen that I was to grow old with. And that infuriates me. He was the hub of all of our friendships, and death just ripped him out without any consideration for the rest of the wheel. This makes me angry. It all seems so unfair, and I have nothing to direct my anger towards, so I cry, then pound on the steering wheel while driving down Rt. 91 in Vermont. And sometimes that is what I need. Because I had no say in this.

However, "what would Kellen do?" What I am really taking away from this is my connection with you, my friends. Loosing Kellen has shown me that time is not endless and friends cannot be taken for granted. My life after Kellen now has an increased focus on quality time with good friends. I can't say it better than Bruce:

"Kellen - I am tired. I have not been home on a weekend since June and it’s your fault. When it’s all said and done in this crazy world the only thing we have left are the times we spent with our friends in the mountains, rivers, and oceans. You are my reminder every day, and the reason my lawn never gets mowed."

Without friends, we have nothing. We may be scattered around the country but what links us together are our experiences. Our hub might have been ripped out but the wheel is still there, still spinning. I encourage, no, I beg you to share your experiences, your life, your thoughts, your memories and your emotions on this blog.

Let this be whatever you need it to be. Talk about whatever you need to talk about. But please, when you get back from an adventure, share it with everyone else. I believe this will keep us connected, keep us young, keep us living and keep Kellen alive.

To keep track of this blog click on the "Follow" link on the right side of the page. And, if you want to add a blog post about anything please type it in Word and email it to me as and attachment to knowtheearth@gmail.com. I will put it up as soon as I check my mail.

I thank each one of you for being a true friend.

See you in the future,

Craig