As I prepare to depart this town once again, I think back on all the memories. This place lured me in, welcomed me, and became my home. I left and returned, more than once. It called me back. And so, as I get ready to leave this place again, I think back on how surreal this timescape has been. I look forward to the unknown and unforetold days ahead, wondering whether or not they are foretold after all.
When I can’t get out on long epics, Microadventures sustain me. Whether out for a year or just a morning, the boundaries of adventure lie beyond the time spent outdoors, and the effects last far beyond those. So, here’s a microsalute to microadventures.
We crushed miles and the miles crushed us; we slammed beers and, in return, got slammed by said beers. We somehow managed to be the only team actually partying through the night, and we faced harsh judgement by those not celebrating with us. We endured altitude sickness, exhaustion, and general drunkenness. We fought and battled together and ultimately had an unforgettable weekend which left us hobbling.
Glistening anxieties off the edge of the brow, Drip away carelessly at the nudge of the wind, Which sends crows careening skywards catching a draft; Never an anxiety has littered their brains, This Sunday stroll as natural and unguided and free, As their flight on a Monday morning or Friday afternoon.
Two years ago today, I lost a good friend named Travis “Achilles” Williams. I’ll never understand why the universe took Achilles from us. But then again, I’ll never understand why the universe granted me an encounter with him - a friendship, a brotherhood which would directly alter the course of my existence. The universe broke us when it took him from us, but it built us when he was here. The world is different without Achilles. But it is also different because of him.
Sunshine gleams off my face, a winter’s morning hinting at the seasons to come. I reopen my eyes and slowly glance over the grand breadth which sits before me, all golden and glowing in the morning rays, an expanse so wide and endless that an entire year of gazing could not capture every detail.
Is it healthy to push yourself over a steep snowy hillside with two planks attached to your feet, shouting a loud “yeah buddy” as you plunge into the intimidating? I don’t really know, but I know that each time I’ve edged my skis over the crest, I’ve learned something profound – not necessarily about skiing, but about myself.
To celebrate the 100th anniversary of the National Park Service, I've compiled my favorite photos from trips to 32 of 59 US National Parks. I am forever grateful for the NPS and all they do for the preservation of America's most prized possessions. Cheers, guys, here's to 100 more.
A Kickstarter campaign launches Wednesday 8/17 to fundraise for the bulk publishing and distribution of the book, 'ACHILLES: A Meditation on Purpose & Inspirational Living’. Below are 5 ways you can directly contribute to the project's success.
July 24, 1996: Twenty years ago today. A day that altered the course of my life, though I’ll never remember it - only seven years old at the time. At that young age, I learned that life is short. I realized that our days are finite and they could come to an end at any moment. It was a morbid realization, but it was a damn powerful one.
I couldn’t believe it when I walked into this room at the Getty Museum. The painting. The people. How they didn’t even blink when I walked past them, and how they stayed glued to their “devices”, even when I stood in front of them, raised my camera, and snap, snap, snapped. None of it was enough to break them from their trance.
As the roadtrip was wrapping up, I had come up with an idea for the apex – A Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim traverse of the Grand Canyon. A 45-50 mile endeavor with 20,000 feet of elevation change, descending a vertical mile down to the Colorado River, climbing a vertical mile to the other rim, then repeating. The idea was conceived, and so it was decided.
I hit the Bright Angel Trailhead around 11:50. I was feeling pretty good again, a little heavy from the breakfast and refilled water, but those were weights to fuel me. It was already hotter than Africa and it was only going to get worse as the afternoon heat kicked up and I descended 4000’.
I knew I had some work left to do. I had a 5800’ ascent over the final 14 miles. The first section, in the final bout of heat, would be mild, climbing only 1500 vertical feet in 7 miles. The final push, though, the last 7 miles, climbed 4300 ‘. And this is after already hiking 43 miles, more than I’d ever done in a day.