My 46er Journey - Part 12 - Solo strikeout

November 2018 brought on some new challenges, as had been the case for quite a while now.  Things were settling in at home and life was looking up.  I'd started really becoming comfortable with myself and the world around me.  I was ready to face new challenges and was working hard to accomplish my goals.  Dan and I had planned at this point to pretty much make a trip to New York every month, with the exception of during mud season (late March through early June) in hopes to finish our 46 on Dan's 46th birthday in January 2020.  We were making progress and determined to do our best to make it happen.

Around the beginning of November, Dan had made a trip up Old Rag and tweaked his back along the way.  He wasn't sure if he was going to be able to do the New York trip that month, but said he'd wait and see.  As the days got closer, it was clear he wasn't going to be able to make, and that's when the breakdown began.  I had not made a solo trip up north yet, much less one on the brink of winter.  I had set a goal and wanted to stick to it, but was terrified of going alone.  I went back and forth over what I was going to do and finally I decided to go.

Laura basically pushed me out the door trying to encourage me to go, but I was scared.  I didn't want to let Dan down by going and climbing without him, I didn't want to let myself down by skipping because of fear, I didn't want to do anything that might result in a negative consequence, so up the road I went.  Along the way I figured I'd just head to New Hampshire and check out Mount Washington, that scared me too as I know how dangerous the mountain can be.  Fortunately, about halfway there I noticed the weather wasn't looking so good, so I decided to divert to New York.  I arrived in Lake Placid in the early morning hours and started to gear up.  I was going to go for a happy medium and make an attempt on Mount Marcy.  I'd climbed it twice already so I was comfortable with the route, and it wasn't one off the list so as not to climb without Dan.

I made my way in around 6am, it was still dark and about 8 inches of snow had fallen overnight.  For some stupid reason I did not put on my snowshoes, and decided post holing through the snow would be more beneficial.  By the time I reached Marcy Dam I was sweating, cold, tired, and beginning to have that paralyzing fear overtake me again.  I noticed a sign about bear activity and that was it.  Now hear me out, I have little fear of bears, I deal with them quite often here at home in Shenandoah National Park.  I know they aren't out to get me, and I know how to scare them off.  It wasn't the bears that scared me, it was me.  That voice inside my head that says I can't wasn't whispering this day, it was screaming, in to a megaphone, and it worked.

I quickly turned around and headed back to the car.  Terrified, shaking, ashamed, as I passed hikers on the way out I could only imagine what they were thinking of someone heading out as fast as I was at 7am.  I got back to the car and texted Laura, "I bailed".  She couldn't grasp why, I gave her every excuse "wore too many clothes" "sweating" "cold" "too much snow", but kept the truth hidden, I was scared and had lost this battle with myself.

I undressed and changed in to some dry clothes, I got in the car and did what any person would do in this moment, I cried.  Here I was, 3 years in to this sobriety thing, 3 years of fighting every day to overcome, and yet I was in the same place I felt I'd always been.  Alone, scared, and not understood.  I beat myself up pretty hard over the next few hours.  I was really sad and disappointed in myself.  I covered up the pain and emotion by saying to other people "I made the right choice, it's better to stay safe" but that wasn't it.  I had failed to face my fears, I had crippled and crawled away, and now I was heading back home, bruised and beaten, to come back and try to fight another day.

That day would come a few weeks later, but for now I felt I had regressed for the first time in a long time, but I was still confident I could overcome.  I went back home and hit the gym, got in better shape, got motivated to never allow this to happen again, but what I failed to do was be honest about the truth of what happened that day in the woods.

My 46er Journey - Part 11 - Tabletop and Phelps

September 2018 was an emotional month, for the first time I broke down in a meeting, I felt such loss, such pain, such helplessness, for the first time since getting sober I had to experience feelings and emotions I hadn't felt in a long time.  I did what I was told to do, I kept on, I pushed myself to get up and run, to talk about things, to hurt, to cry, and to love.  I slowly began to heal, though it sure as hell didn't feel like it yet.  Hindsight is always 20/20, and looking back I did exactly what I was supposed to do, and as the days went on, I slept better and thought less.  A lesson that would surely be put to the test again in the future.

October came around and of course, it was time to head back up the road.  This time Laura joined us again, but unlike the last time, she was coming in to the woods with us to experience the interior for the first time.  I was excited to show her what this was all about, I wanted her to see what it was that drew me in, why this meant so much to me, and in hopes she would start to enjoy it too.  The drive up was a lot easier than the last time, no blizzards, no busted cars, just a simple drive up to the soon to be great white north.

We arrived early in the morning and slept in the car for a few hours.  At day break, we geared up and hit the trail.  The first stop was Marcy Dam, this was my 3rd visit to the dam but since Laura was with us, it was photo op time.  Dan and I took a photo at the remains of the dam on our first trip, so I wanted one with Laura.  Then we headed on, our next destination was the campsites just below the Phelps trail.  We stopped and dropped our gear, set up tents, and headed back out.  Tabletop was our first peak of the trip, and Laura's first high peak.  It was cool, wet, and muddy, typical Adirondacks.  At the break to the herd path we saw our first bit of snow, it wasn't much, but enough for us southerners to get excited.  Laura struggled heading up the mountain, we encouraged her and had a few groups of other hikers that we shuffled places with a few times.  Her exhaustion set in during the last 3/4 of a mile and when I would let her know of a wet spot to not step in, she just decided to do it anyways.  Of course her feet started getting wet, and next they would get cold.

We made it to the top, what a view of Mount Marcy!!  We all took it in and shared our success together.  What a great moment, I was so proud of her for sticking it out and making it up, but I was getting worried about her feet, we still had to spend a night out and it was going to get cold.  We headed back down the mountain and back to camp, once there I got Laura in the sleeping bag and got her shoes and socks off to start to try warm her feet.  She was starting to be in pain from the cold and knew if they didn't warm up quick we were going to have to bail.  Fortunately, they began to warm some and we were able to stay.  The plan was to wake early the next day and tackle Phelps.  It was supposed to snow overnight, but not much so we figured the earlier the better before the ice starts to warm and get slippery.

Morning came and we dusted off our tents of the little bit of snow that had been coming down.  Laura was tired, cold, and her feet were still hurting so she decided to stay behind.  Dan and I decided to just quickly head up and down to get back and get her out.  The trip up was fairly easy, and we were making great time.  About a half mile before the summit we hit the ice we were expecting, we quickly put on our spikes and a warmer jacket and made our way to the top.  Just like a movie, the closer we got the more the snow picked up and once we hit the top it was coming down pretty good.  It made for such a beautiful scene.  A few minutes of taking in the views and a couple of photos and it was time to head back down.

Dan and I had one of our last great conversations on our way back down.  I had been dealing with some stuff with my brother at the time and was really uncertain as to what to do, but I talked to Dan about it and he gave me some great advice as always.  This was always my favorite part about these trips, was working through life together.  Learning what to do, and what not to do.  Having someone I could trust to talk through things and who will be honest with me about it.

We got back to camp to find Laura feeling much better and rested up.  We broke camp and packed up and made our way out.  It snowed lightly the whole way out, which made for a perfect setting to end another great trip.  Back in the car and headed back home.  Next month's trip would be a lot different as the snow will have moved in and it will be much colder.  This would be our 2nd winter climbing the high peaks and I was getting very excited.  Changes were happening all around me, and I couldn't have  been happier.

My 46er Journey - Part 10 - Haystack and Basin

September 2018 came fast and it was time to head back to the Adirondacks.  This trip however was to be much different, from the planning stages, through the end.  I wrote about this trip briefly in a previous post regarding my first time participating in 46 Climbs, you can find that post here.  I kept that entry short and left out some key points which were to be incorporated more in to this series, so hold tight cause this one is an emotional rollercoaster.

Many things were different about this trip since before we even got in the car.  For the first time, I was bringing my son Nicholas with me up to the Adirondacks.  He had done some climbs back home in Virginia with me a few times, but this was to be his first real test in the mountains.  Dan picked him up and headed over and we hit the road.  Not only was my son coming with me, I was also participating in 46 Climbs for the first time, and even better, Sunday September 2nd was my 3 year sobriety anniversary.  This trip also marked the first time we brought food with us, what a difference maker that became!!  Chicken sandwiches, eggs bacon and potatoes, and no Burger King, life was good and we felt like kings.

We hit the trail early Friday morning and headed to John's Brook Lodge, we were going to camp at the sites just past the lodge and made great time getting there.  We decided to set up camp and grab some grub before heading out.  We knew we had a long day ahead of us as we planned to get 3 peaks so fuel was a necessity.  Nicholas was doing great and keeping up, I was so happy to have my boy with me, and Dan was being Dan cracking jokes, smiling, and helping to lead the way.

We slogged our way up to Haystack, it was a busy day and we passed many hikers along the way.  After scrambling up to Little Haystack and then finally realizing we were at the wrong summit, we made it the rest of the way to Haystack for Nicholas' first high peak.  We relaxed for a few minutes and snacked.  We were socked in the clouds and couldn't see anything, but a slight break in the sky above us shown some blue and that energized us to carry on.  We headed over to Basin, by this time the long drive and lack of rest was catching up with us and our pace slowed.  The scrambles up the mountain were fun and Nicholas really enjoyed them.  We found our way to the top as the winds were picking up and the clouds were thickening.  We had never heard of the Saddleback cliffs which were in our route to the next peak.  We were informed by some other guys at the summit of Basin of them and with the rocks being slippery and uncertainty of what may lie ahead, we decided to forego Saddleback for another day.

This was a tough call for me as I was climbing for charity today, but also because we had now orphaned a peak in the middle of the great range.  At some point, we would have to come back for it.  We slowly made our way back to camp and the sun set on another beautiful day in the mountains.  Returning back to Slant Rock we ran in to an older gentleman who seemed to be in some trouble.  The man was shoeless, apparently his boots blew out coming down Mt Marcy and he had hiked back barefoot.  Andy was his name, an Adirondack veteran of about 70 years of age.  Dan gave him his crocks and asked if he needed anything else.  After making sure he was going to be ok for the night, we proceeded back to our camp.

We were all exhausted and after a brief meal we were out cold for the night.  The next morning we woke early, ate breakfast, and broke camp.  It was about that time that we saw Andy pass by with 2 other hikers carrying his pack for him.  It was nice to see he made it through the night and was safe and on his way home.  We headed out and eventually caught up with the group and hiked out together.  Andy and Dan were cutting up the whole time and made for a fun walk out of the woods.

Back in the car and headed home, we took our time getting back but were all anxious to sleep in a bed.  It was my anniversary and felt great to have started it in the woods with a man I called a brother and my son.  I was on top of the world once again, and once again, reality was about to set in.  I got back home and went about with life.  I celebrated with some great friends that week and things were going great.  I had been working with a boy named TJ for a few months and the week prior he had called to tell me he wasn't going to be attending meetings anymore, I didn't answer the phone but had talked to him through text.  I told him I would call him later that day to talk, he didn't answer.

Thursday night after my meeting Laura and I were sitting outside talking when I got a phone call around 10pm.  I'll never forget those words, "Did you hear about TJ?  He died".  Even now 2 years later writing this I well up with tears.  He had the most beautiful smile and could light up a room just by walking in it, his eyes cried of a boy who just wanted to be OK, a man who loved his son more than anything, he was genuine, loving, and funny.  I loved him so much, and always will.  I hardly slept that night, Laura and I laid in bed silent, I gazed at the ceiling and just couldn't comprehend that he was gone.

A group of us attended his funeral the following week and it was incredibly difficult.  I got to meet his family and tell them who I was, and who we were.  They were very appreciative of the help we had given him over the previous months, however they will never know the impact he had on me.  I'll never forget him and every year on my anniversary I make sure to make it known that while I am celebrating, myself, his family, and his beautiful son are all grieving for the loss of the most amazing young man I've ever known.  

I love you and miss you TJ.

My 46er Journey - Part 9 - Upper WolfJaw, Armstrong, and Gothics

The spring of 2018 was a purge of sorts for me.  Mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually.  I had grown enough over my 2 1/2 years of sobriety to be in a place where God knew I could handle what was thrown at me.  It wasn't easy, and each day was a struggle, but I held on and made it through.  I was told many times I couldn't think my way in to better living, that I had to live my way in to better thinking.  Hope had turned to faith because I got the hell out of the way and did the next right thing.  I knew moving forward that so long as I didn't drink and trusted the process, everything would be OK.  Nothing was going to happen in my time, but everything was going to happen in God's perfect timing, including my return to the mountains.

Memorial day weekend of 2018 before Laura and I set off to Roan Mountain we signed the lease on our new house.  We were to move in June 15th, but I was still without a job.  I lived on faith and trusted that everything would be OK.  A few weeks later I got offered a job, start date was June 13th, just in time, not a moment too soon, not a moment too late.

Mount Charleston

July of 2018 saw an adventure of a lifetime.  Laura and I had been invited to go west for a wedding, we would be spending a few days in Las Vegas, then traveling to Yosemite and then back to Vegas.  I decided I would do something to take my adventure to new heights and climbed Mount Charleston.  I took weeks to prepare for the adventure and on July 22nd at 7:15 am I stepped foot on an 11,916 foot tall peak.  However, this is a story for another time.

By August Dan and I were headed back north to the Adirondacks.  We had made plans to finish the Great Range.  The Great Range traverse is considered one of the toughest hikes in America.  There are very few water sources, incredibly rugged terrain, and many miles with lots of elevation, but we were determined to give it our all.  We arrived in the early hours on Saturday and slept in the car.  We decided we were both hungry and that it would be a good idea to grab some food before hitting the trail.  We were to be out overnight so a last good meal would offer the fuel needed.  We hit the Noonmark diner for breakfast and headed to the trail.  We felt great, strong, happy, healthy, and determined.

We signed in at Lake Road and headed toward Upper Wolfjaw Mountain.  We made great time ascending the range and grabbed our first peak of the day.  The mood was the usual determined but carefree life that Dan and I had come to adapt.  There was never animosity between us on the mountains, we knew each other's limits and never let the other person quit.  Each trip we bonded tighter and grew to really love each other more and more.  I no longer saw him as a friend, he was a brother, the older brother I always wanted, the one who never demeaned me, always encouraged me, shared in my successes and my failures.  Dan was my family and I wasn't going to let anything happen to him.

Dan ascending a ladder

We hastily made our way to Armstrong, a small summit with not great views or room on the summit rock, but we didn't care.  We were hungry and ready for a break.  Dan ate tortilla shells with tuna fish, I believe I just had some Pringles and snacks.  It was hot this day, but not unbearably.  Very humid though, but there wasn't any chance of weather so we sucked it up and headed out.  We still had a long way to go, but we were making great time, it was about noon and figured with our pace we should be able to finish before dark and descend to camp.

Gothics mountain has it's own mystique in the Adirondacks.  The name alone just screams "I'm a bad ass mountain", but it holds up to that reputation.  The views from the summit are incredible and there's tons of exposed rock.  The southwest side of the peak is called the "cable route" as there have been cables permanently fixed to the mountain to help climbers up and down the rock.  These cables are just that, metal cables.  Dan and I had been looking forward to the cable route since we first started our journey a year prior.  We had learned to embrace the thrill of the Adirondacks.

While taking shelter on the summit of Gothics

We made the summit some time between 1 and 2 pm.  We sat down to rest again and enjoy a small snack and the views.  After a short moment I noticed some clouds forming between the ranges, and forming fast.  The speed at which they were forming and moving in was terrifying.  There were a few other climbers on the summit with us and we all realized it was time to go.  Dan and I were the only ones with heavy packs on, we tucked away our trekking poles and strapped them to our backs and started to make our way over the mountain.  We knew we had the cables to descend and wanted to get down as fast as possible.  Unfortunately, we weren't fast enough and the storm moved in right on top of us.  We weighed our options and decided to try to take cover on the summit in some brush.  After a few moments we decided to move down the mountain as fast as possible.  We looked at each other and knew we wouldn't leave the other behind and that this was a decision we were both comfortable with.

We moved as fast as we could, the water was rushing down the rock almost an inch deep.  I don't think I'd ever seen rain to hard, heavy, and fast.  We were drenched from head to toe, but we needed to get to a safer spot.  As if some strange twist of fate, the second we grabbed the cables we heard the thunder, "LET'S GO!!!" I screamed as loud as I could so Dan could hear me over the wind and rain.  I descended faster than Dan and kept losing sight of him.  I would scream out at the top of lungs asking if he was OK, he would scream back and we would continue on.  The thunder, the wind, the rain, it was getting louder, faster, heavier.  At this point I was terrified.  I couldn't see Dan, I could hardly hear him, and I knew we were both in trouble if we didn't get down FAST.  That's when the power of God was made known to me.  The brightest flash of light I'd ever seen and the loudest crack of thunder I'd ever heard.  It was no more than 100 feet away, and neither was Dan.  "HOLY SHIT" was all I could muster.  "DAN?  DAN!?  DANNNN!?!" he finally responded and then seconds later, it was all over.

Summit of Armstrong

As quick as the storm came in, it subsided.  As I stood on the rock looking up to see if and when Dan would emerge I heard a soft and calming "Are you OK?" from behind me.  Physically shaking in terror and white as a ghost I turned around to see the head of a young girl poking up from between two boulders.  She had seen us on the summit and had even let us pass her on our descent, but during our moments of trying to take cover on the summit she had passed us only to take shelter below the two rocks as things got bad.  "Yes, that was close!" I responded.  That's when Dan came around the bend and we embraced knowing that we had just dodged a major bullet.

We descended the rest of the way to the col between Gothics and Saddleback.  By this time the shaking had subsided and we were starting to get clear heads again.  We were drenched and emotionally drained, we decided to bail out after looking at the map and realizing there was a shelter about 2 miles from where we were.  We made our way down, unpacked our sleeping bags, stripped off our wet clothes, and settled in for the night.  It was a cold night, but I was relieved we were both alive and safe.  We had just gone through the most terrifying experience of my life thus far, together.  I didn't sleep well that night.  The next day we woke and made our way out of the woods.  Because we had bailed on the opposite side of the range we were going to have to try to get a ride to our car or walk another 10 miles.

The town of Keene runs a shuttle during the summer to move hikers from the parking lot at Marcy Field to the Garden.  We just so happened to luck out that there were no hikers to take to Marcy Field and the driver agreed to drive us to our car at Lake Road.  We were incredibly grateful for this gesture and even more grateful to be alive.  We found out that the storm was pretty bad in the valley too, a few buildings had been struck by lightning and people were talking about how bad it looked up top on Gothics, and believe me, it was bad up there.

We made our way back home and ended our ride as we ended all of them, with an embrace, an "as always, fucking awesome dude" and an "I love you".  It was always the perfect end to these journeys, it didn't matter what happened on the mountain, how many peaks we got, how many miles we logged, or how fast we climbed.  It mattered that we were sharing in this journey together, and were committed to it together, that we had learned so much about ourselves and grown together.  Life is meant to be shared, and we were sharing it with each other in a way I had never done before.

My 46er Journey - Part 8 - The Interlude

Roan Mountain State Park - Tennessee

In February 2018 we returned home to Virginia from our previous trip to the Adirondacks.  We had now climbed 13 of the 46 high peaks in the Adirondacks and were getting excited about continuing our journey.  We had learned so much since that first trip less than a year prior.  So much about the mountains, the road, the experience, and ourselves.  We had learned to just keep going when you think you can't go on anymore.  We had learned that there's always something deep down inside that can push you through any adversary.  We had learned that we could rely on each other, and that things often don't work out the way you planned.

Returning home, I knew I had much uncertainty about my future.  I still hadn't found a job and the bills were piling up.  I was falling for this beautiful girl and afraid to tell her that I was unsure what was going to happen.  I didn't want to hurt someone, I didn't want to bring my baggage on to someone, I didn't want to expose myself to someone.  Then the day came, a note on the door to pick up a certified letter from the post office.  My heart sank, my stomach churned, my anxiety rose, the time had come.  I went and retrieved the letter and came back home to open it.  I had until the 31st of March to pay all the back payments on my house, or vacate the property.

Me on Grandfather Mountain, NC

There was no way I could come up with the over $8,000 that was owed to bring my payments up to date.  There was no way I could face myself or own up to this to anyone.  So I did the logical thing, and tucked the letter away and didn't say anything to anyone.  A few days went by and I knew I had to do something, so I met with my mentor and told him what was going on.  He made a few suggestions then asked if I was going to tell Laura.  I knew I obviously had to, but I didn't want to.  What would she think, would she leave, would she think I was a loser, would she never talk to me again.  Truth is, it didn't matter, because she was going to find out one way or another.  That evening I made us dinner and sat her down at the table and told her I was losing my house.  I explained everything and waited for the inevitable.  She looked at me and said "OK, well I guess we have to start packing".  WHAT!?!  Really!?!  You're not leaving?  You're not going to call me out for the loser I am?  Why?

Laura and I at Harper's Ferry, WV

She offered me encouragement and support, she helped pack when I couldn't.  At this point, we had 2 weeks to empty this house, sell what I could, throw away the trash, and pack what I couldn't sell in to storage.  Dan helped as much as he could too, and together the 3 of us got the house vacated just in time.

God had a plan all along, and He knew what He was doing.  I questioned time and time again throughout the whole ordeal but by this point I had learned to trust Him.  The last day, at the last moment, right before leaving my neighbor came out.  We had become pretty close over the years as he too was a recovering alcoholic with 18 years of sobriety.  I told him I lost the house and wasn't sure what I was going to do or even where I was going.  I told him "I can't believe with over 2 years sober I'm homeless", he looked at me and said "So what?  I was homeless at 10 years sober and God took care of me.  He will take care of you too."  I thanked him for everything and told him I would see him around.  I got in the car and pulled away.

I went to Laura's that night as she had offered for me to stay there till I figured things out.  Dan and I had a trip planned the next day and I figured the mountains would offer some solutions.  By this time Laura and I were officially a thing, but I wasn't too sure about the commitment of officially moving in together.  I knew though to do what I had been doing for 2 1/2 years now, take it one day at a time.

Dan and I at Roan Mountain, TN

Dan and I headed down to Tennessee for a few days to explore.  We stayed at Roan Mountain State Park and hiked all over Roan Mountain.  We took a day to do Grandfather Mountain in Western North Carolina, and explored a portion of the Linville Gorge.  It was a great trip and we both became homesick, or homeless sick in my case, and headed back to Virginia a few days early.

After getting back I decided I would "stay" with Laura, but I wasn't "moving in".  This became a source of comic relief for her and Dan as I refused to unpack my bags even though she had emptied a dresser for me.  I was so scared, even though she had proven to me time and time again over the past few months her dedication to me and to us, but what if I mess it up?  That's what I've always done.  Even with all the confidence I'd gained through the mountains and life, there was still that fear of failure lingering not just in the back, but all over my mind.

Me, Laura, Ken, and Dan at Hawksbill Mountain, NC

I was still struggling with the job situation but was told "just do the footwork", so I did.  I continued to apply for jobs, I got quite a few interviews and I went to them all.  Since I wasn't working and couldn't contribute financially, I pulled my weight around the house.  I cooked dinner every night, cleaned up, continued to look for work, and trusted God that everything will be alright.  Dan and I had planned to head up to New York again in June for a week or two to knock out more peaks.  By this time we had tossed around the notion of finishing our 46er on his 46th birthday which was just under 2 years away.  We knew we had our work cut out for us, but we were willing to do our best to make it happen.  We continued to hike and took a memorial day trip back to Roan Mountain with Laura and our friend Ken and the excitement for the summer continued to build.

Then it happened.  I got a job.  Start date; June 13th.

The mountains would have to wait.  God had different plans...again.

46 Climbs 2019 - Old Rag Mountain

After my 3rd and final summit of the day

August 31st, 2019; 2:00 am my alarm goes off.  I had just drifted off to sleep an hour earlier, the excitement of the day to come kept me from sleeping but I've been here before, and knew this would be the case.  I got up and downed some coffee and made some french toast.  I knew I was physically prepared for the day ahead but was a little concerned about the mental.  I'm a quitter, I have always quit when things got tough, I've always said "I can't", so the day ahead was going to be hard and I knew it.  I kept telling myself "you can do this".

I filled the cooler with water bottles, Gatorade, some sandwiches, and ice packs.  I grabbed my new lightweight running vest, and a gym bag of extra clothes and was on my way.  The drive to Old Rag from my house is about an hour and a half, I stopped at Wawa for a couple bananas and 2 more liters of water.  There's not many cars on the road at 3 am, so the drive is extra lonely.  I crank up the radio and try not to think about the challenge ahead.

My 2nd summit

I landed at the lot just before 4:30, quickly changed, stretched, went to the bathroom, went to the bathroom again, set my tracker, and went to the bathroom again.  Anxiety is terrible on the bladder.  I finally started the trek to the trail head about 4:35 am.  I'd done this trail 24 times prior, I knew what to expect and knew where my slowdown points would be.  Two other groups had left the parking lot while I was there and while I had to pace myself I also knew I would catch up to them.  The first group I caught up to right at the trail head, I paced them for a few minutes before they let me go by.  A few minutes later, I was passing the second group.  I was worried about my speed but knew I was going slower than normal and refused to check the clock.

From the parking lot to the scramble is about 3 miles so when I finally got there and was feeling stronger than ever, I began to make my way through; this is when I started passing a lot of people.  You'd be surprised the amount of people on this mountain at 5:30 in the morning.  I reached the summit for the first time around 6:15.  I stayed for roughly 30 minutes, stretched, ate a stale oat bar, talked with some people.  My fiance and friend were supposed to be meeting me at 8 and I didn't want to keep them waiting so I hurried down.  8 came, and went, and around 8:30 they showed up.  They got a little later start than usual and while my frustration was mounting I told myself "you need the rest, it's okay, things are exactly the way they're supposed to be".

You see, I've always had a problem with that saying.  If things aren't how I want them, then in my mind they're not the way they're supposed to be.  The reality is much different.  The things that Matt wanted in life are the exact reason I was here on this very day.  Matt wanted to be dead.  Matt wanted life to revolve around his wishes, what he thought was best, and when that didn't happen, Matt drank, and drank, and drank.  Matt was a full blown alcoholic by age 23, but refused to accept that idea.  Matt fought it tooth and nail for the next 7 years.  If my wife hadn't left me, if God didn't take that baby, if my parents understood me, if, if, if, until it was just Matt sitting on his couch making plans to finally be successful after dozens of failed suicide attempts.  The nights of drinking until oblivion and taking a handful of pills before passing out hadn't worked, I chickened out the night I stood in a doorway with a belt around my neck for 2 hours, no more messing up, I knew how to do it this time and the plans were in place.

Ken and Laura arrived with sandwiches, water, and Gatorade.  I ate, stretched, and refilled my fluids and we hit the trail.  This was a nice change of pace, it was slower, I had people to talk with, and I wasn't thinking about me or why I was there.  I met Ken and Laura 2 years ago and they both became a huge part of my life right away.  Ken has taught me so much about myself and how to be a better me, I've watched him grow and become an amazing man.  Laura has been an endless supply of love, encouragement, and devotion from the very beginning, so when I asked her to marry me 3 months ago I knew that I was truly about to become the luckiest man alive.  To have them with me for this day reminded me just how possible this impossible feat was.

This was a slow climb, they both struggled at times, and it was just what I needed.  I told them, just keep your feet moving, deep breaths, get some water, eat a snack, let's keep going.  At one point Ken looked up to the next blaze about 50 feet overhead and said "I don't think I can do it" I asked him if he was concerned about where the blaze was and he said yes, I said "don't worry about that rock up there, just step up on this one here", "one step at a time" he responded, and made his way up.  We hit the top around noon, 2nd summit on the day.  They were tired and wanted to rest, but the longer I sat the worse I felt, I was crashing, I had to keep moving.  So reluctantly they got up and headed down with me.  This meant a lot to me, they were pushing themselves beyond their comfort to help me succeed.  Such love and selflessness.  The descent was slow, by the time we reached the fire road I had decided I needed to break off, the day was passing by and I still had another round to go.  I said thank you and took off.

With Laura on my 2nd summit

I was back to the car around 2 pm, grabbed a sandwich, took a bathroom break, stretched, refilled my fluids, and was heading back up.  I can only imagine the thoughts in the people's heads whom I had just ran by moments earlier and was now heading back up.  The reality is they probably thought nothing of it, I still have this idea that people think about me all the time.  I'm really not that important.

The final climb was tough, my legs were tired, it was hotter than earlier, and I really had to conserve water this time.  By the time I hit the scramble the exhaustion was kicking in.  I refused to check my tracker or clock as time and miles were no longer important, getting to the top was the only goal right now.  I came upon the same spot Ken struggled at earlier and my mind went right back to our conversation, "don't worry about that rock up there, just step up on this one here...one step at a time".

3rd summit

It was around this time that it truly occurred to me why I was here today.  Why things were exactly the way they were supposed to be.  Why I was alive.  To recount that moment 4 years earlier, and to share my story.  The night was August 31st, 2015 exactly 4 years prior.  You see, the date didn't line up in my head until I was nearing the end of this painfully tough day.  4 years earlier to the day, I was planning to finally take my life, now here I was participating in an event to raise money for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention.  Something happened in the early morning hours of August 31st 2015 and I reached out to someone and said "I need help, I need to go to a meeting, and don't let me back out".  I went to a 12 step meeting that night instead of taking my life.  2 days later I would wake up and say "enough is enough" and have not picked up a drink or a drug since.

My life has changed drastically over the last 4 years, but more so over the last 2 since I got in to mountain climbing.  This new hobby has taken me all over the country and literally saved my life.  2 years ago with 2 years of sobriety I was still struggling with suicidal thoughts but was determined to live.  I finally got medical help and haven't had those thoughts since.  You can read more on that in last year's blog post here.

I started to descend the mountain and that's when the emotions kicked in.  This was the mountain that started it all.  As a kid I was supposed to hike it with my dad, but I didn't care about him, or mountains, I cared about Matt and drugs and death.  My father hiked this mountain over 25 times, and this day was my 25th, 26th, and 27th times hitting the summit, but I've never done it with him.  He's unable to do it now and every time I'm there, I wish he was with me.  My father has never given up on me, and always supported me, told me when I'm acting crazy, and told me he loves me.  Our relationship has grown significantly since I started climbing mountains and I think of him often while I'm out there.  Just as soon as the emotions came, so did the cramps, and again so did the "one step at a time".  I finally made my way down to find Laura waiting for me with the car.  I did it!

Training run up Old Rag 6 days before

So many people throughout the day had asked questions, gave encouragement, but there is one man I will always remember.  Back down at the car a gentleman stopped and congratulated me, but thanked me multiple times for what I had done.  I don't know how this effected this man, but I know how it effected me.  God kept me here for a reason, even when I didn't understand, or want it, even when I hated Him for it.  I will never know the full extent, but I know I live a damn good life today and am blessed beyond measure.  I know I have a story, and I have an obligation to tell that story.  I want people to know the impossible is possible, life is worth living, you are worth it, you're not alone, and as one of my favorite songs says, life is beautiful.

This year I raised over $1,000 for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, you can still donate here.  My final numbers for my climb were over 23 miles and almost 7,000 feet of elevation gain.  I don't know what the future holds, but I do know laying in bed that night Laura said "I hope you're not going to try and do it 4 times next year" I burst in to laughter and said "well, I was actually thinking about doing it sooner".

A trip back in time

This past weekend my girlfriend and I went away for the night.  It's been a little crazy recently as my photography is picking up, life is happening, and we had found ourselves busy, stressed, and needing a break.  We decided to head to West Virginia to check out the zoo and a park I had stumbled across online one night.  Just about every person in 2019 has heard of Airbnb, and most people have used it.  I've been using Airbnb for about 2 years now almost every time I travel.  It's cheaper than a hotel room but also ads a sense of adventure to your trip.

For those who don't know how Airbnb works, here is a brief synopsis.  You go online and type in the area you are looking to stay.  You set your dates, budget, and needs such as beds, privacy, hot tub, etc.  Once you find a place you like, you request to book it.  Your request is hopefully approved and then you show up at some random stranger's door hoping they aren't an ax wielding psychopath.  Sounds fun doesn't it?

Making friends

We started out a little later than expected Saturday morning and made our way to the zoo.  The zoo was an experience, from the looks when you pull in the parking lot you don't expect it to be a zoo.  I've seen petting zoos that were more inviting this than place.  We sat in the car for a few minutes wondering if we had just drove 4 hours for nothing.  After some contemplation the ol' Forest Gump mentality kicked in and I decided, "well, I've come this far, I might as well keep on going".  I sure was glad that I did.  The zoo was small, friendly, welcoming, and quite amazing.  We fed birds, played with Alpacas, and watched 2 grizzly bear cubs terrorize each other.  After a few hours of snapping photos and just enjoying the zoo we headed out to our next destination.

Cooper's Rock State Forest was an accidental find a few months back.  Neither of us had ever heard of it, but it was about 40 minutes from the zoo and semi in the direction of our room.  The weather was starting to deteriorate but we headed for it anyways.  We didn't explore much, we went to the main overlook then hiked a short trail where we almost crashed the wedding vows of Jennifer and Steve (congrats btw folks).  As we were approaching the car it began to rain so we decided to go meet our psychopath host.

I found our room a few days earlier and it was listed at a discounted rate for the night.  I knew it was a shared residence where the owner was living there as well.  I messaged him that we were on our way to which he responded that he would not be there and to let ourselves in.  The place was amazing.  We were staying in the basement of his home which he had converted in to a small apartment.  Full kitchen, bathroom, sofas, table, and a bed.  It was absolutely beautiful with an amazing view of the mountains.  We settled in and decided to go grab dinner.  We ate at the local restaurant and hit the grocery store for creamer and breakfast.

View from our room

It was a rainy cool Saturday night.  A little later in the evening we were standing outside talking, the conversation turned to the idea of how Airbnb works and how some people are skeptical about it.  How it is this new concept instead of using hotels, which made me wonder.  Is this really that new of a concept?

Lately I've been reading some books of people who have adventured across the country on bicycle.  Every book has a handful of stories about strangers that these adventures meet who let them stay in their homes for the night, or week, or however long it may be.  The general consensus from these stories is that "there are still good people in this world".  But why is it "still good people", at what point did we begin to assume every person was bad?

I don't know if I'm blessed or cursed to have lived in a pre-9/11 world in which I remember when we didn't assume all people were bad.  The rise of 24 hour news coverage, social media, and a fear driven society has morphed our thinking to assume every person out there is an ax wielding psychopath.  Every story we hear is about murder, rape, terrorism, racism, greed, etc.  Why don't we ever hear these stories about the good things in the world?

I posed the idea in our conversation that the Airbnb concept is not actually all that new, but rather a reinvention of the old way of life.  You see, back before the rise of hotels in the 20th century, travelers would find a home along their way, go up to the front door and knock and ask to stay there for the night.  The hosting family would welcome them in, often feed and bathe them, and send them on their way the next day.  Many times without asking for compensation.  While Airbnb does require payment, and is not as hospitable, the idea of staying in a random stranger's house for the night is not new.

Cooper's Rock State Forest

Is this a shift to the old way of living?  A more trusting society?  A simpler concept of people helping people?  I don't believe so unfortunately.  I still believe we will take another person's kindness with a grain of salt, that we will still choose the safe route rather than the one we can learn from.  But my hope is that we can begin to break down the barriers and start to see the good in each person again.

I've learned a lot over the last few years of adventures and traveling.  I've met a lot of great people and have seen some amazing things.  Yet the question still lingers, why do I still live in a constant state of fear from a perfect stranger?  I hope they aren't as afraid of me as I am of them, after all, I know my intentions are good, why do I suspect theirs aren't?