Every Mother's Worst Nightmare...

QUEST!

February, 2010

Thanks to the photographic wizardry of Genesis Studio, my likeness now graces the cover of QUEST magazine's February edition... It seems I have at last "arrived."

A Photographic Journey...

February, 2010

Appalachian Trail, NC/TN

Our journey begins at the base of Yellow Mountain in Avery County, North Carolina. After getting Kenny's SUV stuck and unstuck several times (an adventure unto itself), we finally park and unload. Snowflakes are already wafting sideways, and the snow is 2-2 1/2 feet deep.

We hike in snowshoes, a necessity in the deep snow. And not that it is a huge concern in the Appalachians, but we all wear protective eyeglasses to guard against snow-blindness, a more dangerous threat to mountaineers. The ones you see above belong to a friend; they are authentic glacier glasses that eliminate glare and shield the eyes from the elements.

We hike 2 miles to the shelter and drop our backpacks. Then - as the skies clear - we hike higher. Looking back, you can see the Overmountain Shelter, where we'll stay over night. In the far distance, Roan Mountain touches the sky.

The Overmountain Shelter. Look closely and you can see the tracks where Will and Chris did some impromptu sledding on a plastic sheet!

The higher we climb, the more interesting the ice formations! Just one of many up there! In some places, there are "ice globs" the size of grapefruits hanging from branches! (See previous posts for photos of these).

We are running out of daylight but push on, regardless.

Kenneth looking intense, as usual!

As the sun sets, we must turn back. Here, Chris and Will admire the view amidst gently falling snow.

During the night, the temperature drops to 12 degrees, but with winds as powerful as 24 mph, the windchill factor makes the temperature -1 degrees! Snow pours through the wooden slabs and leave their frigid mark on our sleeping bags as we sleep not-so-peacefully. In the morning, we awake to howling wind and swirling snow clouds. We can no longer see the valley and decide to hike back to the car before things get worse. As we trek through the storm, the snow's average depth appears to be 4 1/2 feet. In some places, snow drifts tower above us, reaching close to 7 feet! We are relieved to find the SUV not covered in snow, and we're able to high-tail it outta there with our frost-bitten fingers and toes still intact!

Photo of the Week # 17

"White Sun Setting"

Appalachian Trail

Little Hump Mountain, NC/TN

Chris leads Will, Kenny, and I back to the Overmountain Shelter, where we'll spend a dangerous night amidst howling winds, swirling snow-clones, and temperatures far below freezing.

Photo by Sir Evan with Nikon Coolpix S570

The Motion Picture Event!

Welcome to the Adventure

I now present to you, Manventure '09: The Motion Picture, in all of its epic glory. Enjoy!

(enlarge to full screen for the best view)

And keep a watchful eye on the horizon: part III is still on its way!

Pilgrimage in the Mountains: Lessons from Virginia's "Triple Crown"

Part II

A Rocky Start...

Saturday, November 7, 2009

The mountains are alive with sounds: birds squawking, leaves rustling, branches swaying, and distant,

mysterious murmurings. Nature's alarm clock has no snooze button. We crawl from the toasty security of our goose down cocoons and throw open our tent flaps, emerging into the crisp, mountain atmosphere at 3,000 feet. Dragon's Tooth beams down on us, the early morning sun glimmering at its perforated edges. After lowering the bear bag, we indulge in a healthy breakfast of granola, oats, and dried fruit, fuel for the day's daunting task. But first thing's first: we must explore!

After a slithering climb up a large crack and a slippery slab of granite, we reach the top of Dragon's Tooth. From here, we enjoy a spectacular view of the terrain that still lies ahead. In the distance, we see a piece of McAfee Knob, our immediate destination. Even further, we see Tinker Cliffs, just visible through the morning haze. For a few years now, I've maintained the opinion that mountains are deliberately misleading. Often, when one is certain they have hiked a mile, they have only traveled a quarter the length. Distance and time in the mountains cannot be judged by the sweat on one's shirt or the time on their watch. The mountains are unpredictable and always - without fail - more dangerous than they appear. For this reason also, distance and time cannot be judged by sight. Time and time again, the mountains have demonstrated their knack for misleading hikers up meandering paths with one false summit after another and no end in sight. So naturally I have the audacity to say, "Oh, yeah. We can cover this in a day. No problem, guys."

Committed

Today, we will cover 12 miles. We will also have to contend with steeper terrain than expected, and one team member's increasing bout with the seasonal flu. Already at the start of our journey, Robbie is not feeling well, but he's determined to push through and give the venture his all. And since backpacking is much like "going all in," as with a game of poker, Robbie doesn't have too many alternatives. As soon as we've taken down camp and loaded our backpacks, we hit the trail, retracing our steps from last night's treacherous climb. The Appalachian Trail is steep and rocky here and covered with slippery leaves, so we move slowly, at first, albeit faster than we did going in the opposite direction. Surviving several slips and near-spills, we arrive at Lost Spectacles Gap and continue, northbound, on the AT. For the next 9 miles, Tim Bob will lead the way, since he is the only team member who has already hiked this stretch of the trail. He sets a moderate pace, taking us up a series of switchbacks through dimly lit forest. Coupled with our knee-blowing descent from the "Tooth," this climb marks the beginning of our epic voyage through the Virginia countryside. "And it only gets harder from here, gents," says Tim Bob.

Over the course of the day, we travel across a wide array of scenery: obscure outcroppings, random "windows" to the surrounding valley, views of red-tinged trees, soaring raptors, abandoned barns, and open pastures similar to those seen in the lands of Tolkien's "Middle Earth." I cannot help humming the "Fellowship" tune as we march across the open meadows of Beckner Gap. "This is where it gets rough," Tim Bob warns. Great, we say. Guess it wouldn't be worth doing if it wasn't challenging, though... Right? We cross a number of stiles laced with electric fences, and Sherwin gets fried like a squirrel nibbling on a power line. Just kidding, although we joke about the possibilities, and Sherwin retaliates with strong dosages of sarcastic and self-deprecating wit. We cross the stiles unscathed and begin the long and tiring ascent up a massive hill. Later, we dub it "The Hill of Death." When we finally reach the top, we are red-faced and out of breath. Robbie, weakened by his illness, can hardly breathe in the first place. Then and there, we say if he can make it to McAfee Knob, he will live in infamy as a true mountain man. Truthfully, it's his only option aside from digging his own grave beside the trail. There is no easy way out; we must all stay committed. Already, I am reminded of the meaning of adventure and of how quickly plans can change in the mountains...

Plan B

For the next several hours, we hike upon an undulating ridge line with frequent views of the adjacent valleys. These momentary glimpses remind us of what we're striving towards and embolden us to keep hiking, despite the difficulty. Regardless, by this point, we have made a group decision to not continue to McAfee Knob by nightfall. Since Robbie is ill and it has taken us longer to cover the mileage than expected, it would be unwise to "push it." Therefore, we'll stay at Johns Spring Shelter, just a couple miles beyond Route 311, and reach McAfee the following morning. This, everyone agrees, is more than suitable as a "Plan B."

The temperature drops, and shadows shift in the forest. It's almost 4 o'clock. We hear the low murmurs of an active highway and know we are close to 311. Moments later, we discover a wooden sign telling us we've traveled 9 miles since leaving Dragon's Tooth. The AT parking lot is crawling with hydrated hikers who stare at us forlornly, as we stagger out of the woods and stumble across the highway, rejoining the trail on the other side. To our shame, I wonder if we would have carried on had we left a car at this particular lot... Thankfully, though, for the sake of the enterprise and our reputations, our cars are miles away, and the only way there is by foot.

We have crossed several streams today and filtered enough water for the last few miles, but one major detail has slipped past me: Johns Spring Shelter has no water source. To find water, we must hike an additional mile (although, in the heat of the moment, we are so certain it is longer than that!) to Catawba Shelter. While an extra mile is not a terrible upset, considering how far we've already walked, it is a huge blow to our morale and Robbie's hope for survival. But we have no choice; our bottles are nearly empty. In the near-dark, we keep hiking. The AT winds steeply up Catawba Mountain. With a mile to go, Robbie, Daryl, Sherwin, and I lose sight of Tim Bob and Matt, who are - bone-dry - out of water and desperate to find a spring. The trail darkens before us, becoming a haunted 'night land' of unsettling quiet and eeriness. We are forced to retrieve our headlights. Now a funnel of light paves the way, and we 'up the pace,' anxious for the end.

At last, we catch up with our companions, who have also resorted to their headlights, and only

moments after rejoining them, we catch sight of Catawba Shelter, an old-fashioned lean-to, and another wooden sign, this one directing us to the spring! Everyone sighs in relief, and - as we reach the shelter - we drop our heavy packs and praise God for helping us through this trying day. Over the next hour, we filter enough water for a small army and drink most of it, too. Dinner consists of freeze dried ingredients and boiling water. Salt-saturated, meal-in-a-bags never tasted so good! We devour our dinners, topping the evening off with a fleeting fire, hot tea, and Japanese sake! Adding a little excitement to the evening, Matt - in his exhaustion, we'll say - manages to set a bowl of sake ablaze, nearly scorching his eyebrows, which leaves him with the well-deserved trail name, "Fire Water."

Later, we rest warm in our mummy bags, spread across the shelter floor. Reminiscing on the day's events is challenging, since we can only focus on the final day. We have traveled almost 15 miles since Friday night. Nine more await us... Robbie is rested, breathing adequately again, but understandably exhausted. We are sore, weak, and even afraid, but we are not defeated. We did not finish the day by our own strength, and it is the same strength that will see us through to the end of our pilgrimage in the mountains.

To Be Concluded...

Pilgrimage in the Mountains: Lessons from Virginia's "Triple Crown"

Part I

"Keep close to Nature's heart... and break clear away, once in a while, and climb a mountain or spend a week in the woods. Wash your spirit clean..."

~ John Muir ~

In Medias Res

We pass through a narrow, mountain corridor; the trail, barely visible under Autumn's crispy fronds, is laced with rows of fading grass blades that swish and sway against our thighs. Midday's harsh glare flares through the treetop canopy of chioanthus and draws the sweat from our pores like a leech to life blood. The forest rooftop glows radiant yellow as the sunlight spreads from one leaf to the next. We adjust our loads - tighten waist belts, yank on shoulder straps - and carry on through the ethereal mountain pass.

Welcome to the Appalachian Trail in Roanoke, Virginia. At 17 miles in, we are two men down and anxious to reach our destination. On this warm November day, my companions and I are backpacking across the "Triple Crown" of summits that border the Great Valley of Virginia in Roanoke. We have already been to Dragon's Tooth, a mighty rock monolith that reaches heavenward like a crippled, outstretched hand. McAfee Knob, renowned for "the anvil" rock outcropping that hangs some three-thousand feet above the valley surface, lies 2.5 miles behind us. The crowning achievement of our expedition, Tinker Cliffs - a half mile length of granite ledges overlooking the valley - is another 7 miles away. And we are already so tired.

Commence: Adventure

Friday, November 6, 2009

At 10 pm, the trail head is cold and vacant, a black hole to all who dare enter. We are six strong: Tim Bob, short but fearless; Matthew, eager to get underway; Sherwin, undaunted by the task at hand; Daryl, packing enough food to feed a small army; Robbie, his mighty "Moses" staff at the ready; and myself, anxious for adventure.

"Let's do this," mutters Tim Bob, his words oozing with concrete resolution. His L.E.D. headlight punches a funnel through the black of night, as he starts on the trail. We follow, in single file, up the Dragon's Tooth trail. Marked by rectangular, blue blazes every thirty yards, it is well maintained, and with our headlights illuminating the way, we have little trouble sticking to the path. In next to no time, we have arrived at the t-junction with the Appalachian Trail. "Where do we go from here?" someone asks. We go up.

From the intersection at "Lost Spectacles Gap," it is two and a half miles to the pointed peak of Cove Mountain, known to hikers as Dragon's Tooth. This section of the trail soon graduates from smooth to rocky, from gently sloped to precariously steep, from easy to strenuous in the same time it takes for our heart rates to surge and our blood to boil. We are no longer merely hiking, for the terrain before us demands our bodies' full attention. With each others' help, we jump over pitfalls, scale granite slabs, navigate hazardous ledges, clamber up rudimentary ladders hammered into the mountainside, and climb over one obstacle after another. Unhindered, we press on till midnight, when - at last - we approach the summit at 3,020 feet.

Ahead of us, the monolith rises to the star-splattered sky, its faint silhouette a sublime welcome to the great outdoors, our home and training ground for the next two days.


To Be Continued...

There and Back Again...

Adventure in the Mountains

JUST how epic was Manventure '09, you ask?

THIS EPIC!

Yes, yes. This is me in a hospital bed. The full story is on the way, but for now I will say our time in the mountains challenged us in unexpected ways! The terrain was tougher than predicted; the weather was warmer than one would expect in November; and water was scarce. But it would not be an adventure if we always knew what to expect, now would it? As always, God helped us to push through, and He might have even sent a guardian angel or two to join us... I believe this Manventure will find its home in the annals of legend! Stay tuned for the complete story with photos and videos. For now, I leave you with this teaser...

Manventure '09 Has Arrived!

ADVENTURE RETURNS!

On this brisk November weekend, I'll be backpacking Virginia's "Triple Crown" of views along the Appalachian Trail. Joining me are good friends. Team Adventure consists of the following:

Tim Bob, aka. Sleepy Time

Robbie, aka. Moses

Sherwin, aka. Asian Thunder


Matt, aka. Silent Fox


Sir Evan, aka. Dodge


and Daryl, who needs a trail name!

We'll be hiking 24 miles, from Dragon's Tooth to McAfee Knob to Tinker Cliffs, in Roanoke, VA! Stay tuned for an update when we return!

Dragon's Tooth: The Motion Picture

Featuring... the Nightwalkers

Like the previous video, this 'motion picture' is compiled of photos from the Nightwalkers' annual backpacking adventure from December 30-31 in 2006. An article will come later with plenty of details, but Dragon's Tooth is a unique rock formation in the mountains of Roanoke, VA. A part of Cove Mountain, it was originally called 'Buzzard Rock,' but was eventually renamed the more apt, 'Dragon's Tooth.' Enjoy the movie!

Music by Steve Jablonsky

Photo of the Week # 11

December 31, 2006

"Smaug of the Appalachians"

Sitting atop "Dragon's Tooth" on the Appalachian Trail in Roanoke, VA, with friends, Jim Ed & Troy! Brisk and clear, it was a good day to be on the mountain and a great way to start the new year!


Original photo by Rich Wills. Graphic work done by George Moore.

Manventure: The Motion Picture

November, 2007

Shenandoah National Park, VA ~ the Appalachian Trail

Humpback Rocks

Music: "The Last of the Mohicans," original motion picture score by Trevor Jones and Randy Edelman

From Three Ridges to Spy Rock: A Backpacking Tale

Part III

We rise at dawn. The air is fresh and cool. Sunlight pours through the roof of the forest. Beads of condensation roll down the nylon fabric of our tents. Squirrels forage for food and retreat at the sound of our voices. The day is new, and we are ready to embark on the toughest leg of our journey.

We are close to the Tye River, which parallels Route 56, the one break in wilderness on our four-day journey. It is a mere 2 and 1/2 miles away but entirely down hill, and the trail is covered with leaves, making the descent slippery and treacherous. I utilize my one trekking pole to the best of its potential, and I am relieved to have it; only I find myself wanting its partner as my knees begin to ache. I make a mental note to purchase another pole before my next adventure and cringe my way down the mountainside. After much slipping and fussing, we hear running water and emerge from the dense forest. The Tye River Suspension Bridge awaits, and we hurry across it, marveling at the strong current beneath. Here, we break for brunch and prepare for our next endeavor.

The Priest Mountain, a sentimental favorite from my Scout days, is not to be considered without earnest forethought. By ascending the peak southbound on the Appalachian Trail, hikers embark on a 5-mile trek with nearly 3,000 feet in elevation gain. The switchbacks are as endless as the mountains, themselves. The terrain is punishing: steep, rocky, and unrelenting. Sleepy Time (Tim Bob, for those who have forgotten) and I, having accomplished this task before, do our best to prepare Robbie and Brett for the challenge that lies ahead.

As we cross Route 56 and enter the Priest Wilderness, we feel little foreboding, since we are - all of us - fairly cocky and self-assured. Suffice to say, we are also fairly foolish. With little thought to the difficulty of the day before or our strenuous climb down Three Ridges just hours ago, we begin to climb The Priest, a mountain revered across the Appalachians. By the time we reach the first overlook and the halfway point we are exhausted, and some of us, like Robbie, for example - not to single him out or anything - but Robbie is pretty severely dehydrated.

"Sit down, stop crying, and drink this water," we say.

"I'd rather refuse the elixir of life called water and die on this mountain," Robbie as good as says. In reality, he says something like, "Ugh, I'm not thirsty. I'm so sick," nor is he crying.

The Priest is taking it out of each of us, but dusk is on the prowl, in addition to several turkey vultures swooping in circles around Robbie. Taking this as a bad sign, we devise a plan: Sleepy Time and Brett will hike ahead, while I remain at the overlook with Robbie, forcing water down his throat. In order to secure our campsite at the Priest Shelter and get a fire started before nightfall, the expedition must go on! Tonight will be the coldest yet.

Robbie and I watch our companions vanish up the trail head. Meanwhile, heavy clouds creep across the white sky, and tiny specks of snow hang in the air like dust particles. We shiver as a frigid gust envelopes us. After some time, Robbie and I are re-hydrated. He feels "loads better," so we leave behind our view of the bleak, Virginia countryside and march past a white blaze that points the way to the summit. As we near the peak, I feel a new sensation beneath my knee caps. I wince and push it aside, but by the time we set foot on the boulder-strewn summit of the Priest Mountain, my patellas are grinding like sandpaper, and I am secretly concerned.

I try to ignore it and take a painkiller. Robbie and I ease off our backpacks and rest for a while, soaking in the purple hue of a winter, mountain sunset. To the east, we observe Three Ridges. We are humbled by its severity and amazed we have made it this far. From the very edge of the mountain - his personalized hiking staff firmly planted - Robbie surveys the land. With his grizzly facial hair and strong pose, he looks, oddly enough, like Moses at the parting of the Red Sea. I envision a massive stamp slamming on Robbie's manila file with a resounding thud: TRAIL NAMED.

There is little time to spare, so Moses and I return to the trail and hike a mile further, where we find our friends at the campsite chopping firewood. It is only fitting, since I bestow Robbie with his trail name, that Tim Bob do the same for Brett. And it so happens, during our absence, Brett apparently "split a friggin' tree in half with a huge rock," or so Tim Bob says. So Brett - now Hammerhead - proceeds to build a miniature log house out of kindling, and Sleepy Time lights a bundle of tinder. Cold and tired, we are all anxious to gather round the campfire. There is much to be done: dinner to make, tents to set up, bear bags to hang. But for now all anyone can do is loaf next to the fire, entranced by its incandescent glow.

It has been a trying day of adventure in the mountains.

From Three Ridges to Spy Rock: A Backpacking Tale

Part II

It is oddly bright. The tent interior glows fluorescent, sunlight pouring through the nylon fabric. I shield my eyes and roll over in my mummy bag. Is it that time already?

"Time to get up, Tim Bob," I say, to which my quick-witted friend moans in reply, "Noooo...I want sleepy time!" thus sealing his trail name for all hiking adventures to come.

After much stirring, Sleepy Time and I emerge from our shelter to discover our campsite perched beside a steep cliff with a decent view of the east. We count ourselves fortunate since no one managed to fall over the edge during their midnight wanderings. We join Robbie and Brett for breakfast, then proceed to take down the campsite.

Today is our first full day of hiking. We have somewhere between 6 and 8 miles to cover over mountainous terrain. The Three Ridges Wilderness is a notoriously rough landscape, consisting of steep climbs, abrupt descents, and rocky trails. To make matters more difficult, ice still covers the trail in places. I remember, as a Boy Scout, how troops utilized Three Ridges as a preliminary training hike in preparation for Philmont Scout Ranch, an intense, high-adventure backpacking camp in New Mexico. No doubt, today will prove challenging.

As we begin to hike, the air is still chilly, so everyone dresses accordingly, but it isn't long before we're wiping our brows and feeling the cool damp against our backs. Sure enough, we have to stop and remove our jackets. We should have known better, but even experienced hikers sometimes can't resist the urge to layer densely when it's so cold...

Starting off right, we ascend Bee Mountain, which spans roughly a half mile, before taking a short dive down the other side. Because we do not expect to descend so quickly, we are puzzled, but, soon later, we lumber up the northern knoll of Three Ridges and take our first break at the top. As we wind up a steep switchback, we can see the forest opening ahead. We step out of the woods and onto a massive rock precipice overlooking Three Ridges to the east and the Priest Mountain to the west. It is both daunting and exhilarating to catch a glimpse of the landscape we must still traverse. Three Ridges is aptly named, and my heart thumps at the sight of its barren and jagged downward slope. Over the course of the day, we will gain - then lose - altitude. Already I am not fond of downhill hiking, since it puts a lot of stress on my feet and knees. Little do I know how bad it can really get...

After refueling, we proceed along the Appalachian Trail. The forest is bare and cold. Crispy brown leaves litter the path and crunch under our footsteps. The trees are empty. We see little other than brown trunks and blue sky glimmering through the cracks in the forest.

Towards the end of the day, we arrive at the Harpers Creek Shelter. Tired from a long (but good) day of hiking, we find comfort that evening in a warm campfire, some hot chocolate, and the melody of the mountains after dark. But knowing that the hardest leg of our journey awaits, we retire early. Tomorrow, we descend Three Ridges and climb to the summit of the Priest Mountain...

From Three Ridges to Spy Rock: A Backpacking Tale

Part I

March, 2007

After nearly driving off an icy bridge, passing an odoriferous skunk, and a mountain lion, we arrive at Reeds Gap off the Blue Ridge Parkway in Nelson County, Virginia. It is nearly 10 pm and "mountain dark"...which, for those who don't know, means "eerie dark." And, as if we haven't been through enough just in getting here, the howling wind is numbingly cold. We - being Tim Bob, Robbie, Brett, and myself - are the only souls out here. We have come all the way from Newport News to venture along the Appalachian Trail, to test our skills and resolve, to see if we have what it takes to last on the trail for a few days, 3 and a quarter, to be exact. Tonight we have a short hike, headed south bound through the Three Ridges Wilderness. Our goal, simply put, is to hike until we find a suitable campsite. The real journey will not begin till day break.

But we are in for a surprise as we heft our packs and switch on our headlights. The trail is covered with ice! "Are we really doing this?" Robbie says minutes later, as we enter the wilderness, leaving our cars and Reeds Gap behind. We have little choice. In mere moments, the setting changes. It becomes colder, darker, quieter... We are very alone in the woods in the middle of the night, and we have little to guide us but the beams of our headlights. But it is enough. One foot forward at a time, we climb the rocky trail. Leading the way, I watch my footing. At times, I must ram my feet through the ice to get a firm hold. White flakes spray; feet slip. We groan in frustration, yet laugh in disbelief.

It is funny to think how quickly our situation has changed. One minute we are sitting in a warm car, listening to the radio. The next, we're lumbering up an icy trail with stitches in our sides and watching our breath waft into the darkness like vapor. I dig in with my one trekking pole, using its sturdy hold to propel me up the trail. After some slips and falls, we reach flat ground and have an easier time maneuvering over the slick ice. And a mile into hiking, we make camp in a clearing off the AT. By the time we settle down in our warm sleeping bags, it is 11:30. Exhausted, we close our eyes and rest in preparation for tomorrow...

Prelude to Adventure

"For the Lord is the great God, the great King above all gods. In his hand are the depths of the earth, and the mountain peaks belong to him."
~ Psalm 95:3-4

God must delight in surprises, because He sure is full of them. While I'm sure it pains Him to watch His children suffer when their plans fall apart under the weight of His superior plans, I'm sure He also finds great joy in knowing what is best for His children and acting upon it. While His purposes are rarely clear in the beginning and while we may suffer - torn, at times, from our hopes and dreams - His will is ultimately better, and because He loves us, we are left better off in the long run.

These are the thoughts I often turn to when I reminisce on the adventure that transformed my life. In December of 2005, I was a junior in college and still bent on my high school dream of writing a novel. Long ago, I had worked everything out in my mind. I would write a story of unparalleled inspiration, tearing through traditional expectations, and, upon graduation, I would already be a best-selling author. I felt it was my purpose. My primary aim in life seemed the fulfillment of this dream. But it was getting harder to accomplish as I became distracted and confused. To make matters worse, I was losing interest. As I desperately clung to my teenage aspirations, like a sailor to the mast of his sinking ship, I became frustrated...then angry. Why had God led me down this path only for it to end in failure? I felt defeated and lost. I had spent so much time and energy... and for what? What was I supposed to do now? By the end of 2005, I was distant from God, unsure of His faithfulness and unsure of my relationship with Him. Little did I know, He was never far.

One day, I got a phone call from an old friend. "I think it would be really cool to get the old crew back together for a camping trip on New Years," said my friend, Rich. "We'll hike to McAfee's Knob and spend the night. It'll be like old times." The idea of spending some quality time with my old friends, The Nightwalkers, interested me more than the idea of backpacking, but it was more than enough for me to commit. I had not camped, let alone backpacked, in a long time. I didn't know if I'd be up to the challenge, but Rich assured me it wouldn't be a difficult hike, and everyone would be out of practice. And although the hike was a little tough - since I was way out of shape - it ended up being totally worth it. We reached the Appalachian Trail shelter ahead of schedule and made camp, our Scout skills resurfacing as if we had never lost them.

It felt good to be doing something. To set up a tent, pick up firewood, light a stove, get dirt on my hands. The air was crisp and clean with a little bite as I breathed through my nostrils. Leaves crunched beneath my feet, and the chilly mountain breeze gently stung my skin. I felt inspired... alive! This experience - the outdoor experience - was new to me all over again. That night we made a scorching fire and crowded together, cupping bowls of steaming brunswick stew. It was good to reconnect, to talk and laugh in the still and quiet of the night. I remember a satisfaction I had not felt in a long time.

The next day, we shouldered our day packs and began the climb to McAfee's Knob, Roanoke, VA's most photographed landmark and Appalachian Trail hot spot. Again, I struggled but succeeded. We reached the Knob, and I stood, amazed. Only once in my life could I remember a view such as this. While staring across the wintry, Virginia valley, I realized how much I had taken for granted, and the ache of my heart told me what was missing. In this moment, I found myself caring more about the present reality than any fictitious moment I could create. The granite cliffs were real. The drifting clouds were real. Me, standing on the mountaintop... real.

And in retrospect I attribute this experience to God, the Creator of those mountains. The Annual Nightwalker Trip (which it would ultimately become) at McAfee's Knob laid a seed. In little time, I became enthralled with the natural world. I could feel its power and testimony. It both amazed and perplexed me. I felt drawn to it, and so began my great love for outdoor adventure. But more importantly, it was through the outdoors that God spoke to me. For so long I had been making plans, uninterested in His own. Then, when things fell apart, I fell away. Now, I look back on my first, true, outdoor experience, and I can see God pursuing me. I can see God's hand in the mountains, how He conceived and shaped them. Being as stubborn as any man, I needed a strong example of God's strength and faithfulness, and He delivered with His Creation... Of all things.

My life has changed in many ways since 2005. God has fostered in me a great love for the outdoors. I care very deeply about peoples' interaction with nature, especially America's children, and I want to share my appreciation for God's splendor, depicted perfectly through Creation. And I still write, only now with a different purpose.

"Let us acknowledge the Lord; let us press on to acknowledge him. As surely as the sun rises, he will appear; he will come to us like the winter rains, like the spring rains that water the earth."
~ Hosea 6:3

TV Review: Expedition Africa, Ep. 2

Man Down!

This week's episode of Expedition Africa introduced new troubles for our modern-day explorers. Ironically, their biggest problem stems from within. As most have probably noticed, Pasquale, the team leader, has a head the size of a watermelon, and in the first 10 minutes of episode 2, viewers witnessed the cost of his inflated ego.

The show picks up on day 6 of the expedition, fast forwarding through several days and some mileage. They have 900 out of 970 miles to go, and for a challenge, they have decided to deviate from Stanley's original course. Rather than snake their way around the Uluguru Mountains (as wise, Mr. Stanley once did), they will climb straight over them. But these mountains are tough. And with Pasquale unwilling to slow his reckless pace, the team suffers. Only 10 minutes into their ascent of the Uluguru's, a porter collapses from severe heat exhaustion. This is just moments after Kevin, the journalist, asked Pasquale to slow down, for fear the porters would be left in the dust, to which the self-declared leader responded, "Dude, we're fine!"



In this moment, viewers witness a transformation. Kevin, the least experienced "expeditionist" of the group, bolts into action, his Emergency Technician training coming into play. He knows exactly how to care for the exhausted porter. Later, Benedict, the team's survivalist, remarks that it was a sight to behold, witnessing Kevin's call to action. Earlier in the show, Kevin states to viewers how - unsure of his expedition skill set, yet wanting to contribute in a unique way - feels a draw to the porters. Therefore, he has taken it upon himself to become their voice, their say in the expedition. He will be the link between them and the team leaders. They are his self-inflicted responsibility. Indeed, we see this acted out over the course of the episode, as he is in constant communication with them, making sure they are fed, have water, and enough rest.

Thankfully, the porter survives, and the team moves on, but the event calls Pasquale's "all-or-nothing" attitude into question. Someone suggests Mireya take the front, so she might set a slower, steadier pace for the group, but Pasquale refuses. "The expedition must go on!" he claims, stating that the group's mission outweighs an individual's personal position. Not to be harsh, he says, but that's just the way it is on an expedition. Some may not agree with Pasquale's mission philosophy, but he is certainly confident and unmovable. These are both qualities and flaws in a leader.



That night, the team endures severe winds so loud and strong, they hardly catch a wink of sleep. The following morning, Benedict starts a fire with a tampon, which he always carries in his survival pack for just this purpose. It acts as valuable tinder, he explains, and sure enough, he provides a roaring fire on which the team can cook their breakfast.

Later in the show, the expedition comes across a giant cliff, which must be circumvented, and through this unexpected obstacle, Kevin's insecurities are revealed. In this moment, he shows his fear and uncertainty, and Benedict states, rather frankly, if Kevin cannot adapt to the needs of the expedition, they're going to have a problem. Luckily, navigating around the cliff face is not as difficult as it first appears, and Kevin's fears are in vain. But his uprooted insecurity could present problems in the future...

Episode 2 ends with the team arriving at a native village, where they are welcomed as heroes. Exhausted and starving, the explorers enjoy some unique foods. Mireya, for one, has her first taste of goat kidneys. Yummy. The natives throw a huge celebration that night, full of exotic food, dancing, fires, and massive pythons!

Now that the Uluguru Mountains have been traversed, the expedition is headed for the African plains, where they'll have to fend off new kinds of predators. Lion country awaits!

If you missed this week's episode, you can watch full episodes at History Channel's website!

Plight in Pennsylvania: An Appalachian Adventure

June, 2008

"What would Bear Grylls do? He would survive! He would make a fire...out of nothing!" These are the words I chant to myself as I repeatedly strike my flint and steel over soggy tinder. I've been at it for a while now, and my back is aching from all the bending over. The humidity finally gets the better of me; the fire will not light. My head sags in defeat. From the Deerlick Shelter, Matt (my friend and fellow adventurer) jots down some notes for his newspaper article on the Appalachian Trail and the funny nomads who endeavor to explore it.

We have journeyed to the AT near Waynesboro, Pennsylvania, this hot and stifling June weekend, for a backpacking adventure for the sake of documenting it in the local newspaper Matt writes for, The Record Herald. So far, we have traveled roughly 5 miles over rugged terrain, stopping once for a water and snack break, where we encounter a deer-fox, meaning we cannot tell the difference. Matt and I got off to a late start, so this is as far as we'll go today, and it is just as well, because literally minutes after we pitch our tents, dark clouds close in above us and unleash a torrent like we've never seen before. Forced to take shelter in our respective tents, we wait out the storm. But it only gets worse as darkness descends, and we start to worry not only about flooding but being struck by lightning. One lightning burst after another flashes across my tent, sending tremors through the ground strong enough to wake the dead. Just when we think it can't get any worse, a streak of electric energy slams into the earth a mere 50 yards away. It is so strong and startling, Matt and I howl in enthusiastic horror - enthusiastic because it's kind of cool, horror because we could die. After the weather's final and most violent demonstration, the rain dies down, and we can finally relax.

We wake early, eat a semi-decent breakfast - depending on who you ask - pack up quickly, and hit the trail ahead of the hot temperatures we'll later endure. Already, though, it is disgustingly humid, thanks to the rainfall the night before. Our shirts cling to our skin like paper mache'. We press on, covering a lot of miles. Over the course of the whole trip, we will hike somewhere between 12 and 15 miles. Early on, we cross several streams and train tracks, leading us to Penmar Park, a notable destination along the way, offering a stellar view of the Pennsylvania countryside. There, we rest and recharge, eating a typical "trail lunch" of crackers, summer sausage, and trail mix. During our hiatus, we speak with several hikers, who warn us of the rocky terrain ahead. We should have paid closer attention.

Later, Matt and I stagger up the mountainside, plagued by the intense heat and humidity. To make matters worse, we are nearly out of water (and there are no more streams to be found), and, indeed, this is one of the rockiest trails we have ever set foot on! The elevation gain is unbelievable, and we feel the pull of our packs as we ascend, one tired foot after another.

Soon, I am at the end of my rope. I have been dehydrated like this before, and it is a scary situation to be in, yet again. Amazingly, it takes me by surprise. I should have been more wary, knowing my past experience with heat exhaustion, but this time around not even all the water on the AT could have prevented it. This is why humidity is so dangerous. It will suck the water out of you faster than you can drink it.

Matt, better off than me, makes sure I get enough rest and even shares with me what little water he has left. By now, it's really hot out. We are close to High Rock, our next destination, from where we will supposedly have another mile and a half to go. But when we arrive at High Rock, a massive boulder jutting out of the mountainside, we make our decision.

This adventure has taken it out of us (me mostly, to be honest). We are satisfied with High Rock and make it our final destination, calling Matt's folks to pick us up. While we wait, we enjoy the view, noticing Pennsylvania's unique "patchwork" landscape of farms and meadows. High Rock is a popular destination and easily accessed by road, so we are not alone. Matt tells me how, years before, a young woman fell to her death after venturing too close to the edge. Later, as we descend High Rock by way of car, we count our blessings.

While our backyard exploits fail to merit a hit show on the Discovery Channel, we are pretty sure Bear Grylls would be proud of us. We have endured a freak lightning storm, life-draining humidity, painful terrain, and dehydration. And we have lived to tell about it! If you are looking for a challenging adventure, head to the foothills of Pennsylvania. The Appalachian Trail is waiting.