The overall premise of Forest Therapy is that humans benefit from time spent outside among trees, provided we slow down and get in touch with our senses. There are physical as well as psychological benefits to be had by spending time in the forest, and we don’t have to go deep into a wilderness environment to enjoy them. It turns out that a couple of hours in a public park or pocket of trees in an urban environment can do the trick!

The Association of Nature and Forest Therapy is the organization which conducts the training program. Its founder, Amos Clifford, is a kindred spirit that shares my worldview completely. From the ANFT website:

“Every guided walk is an act of power and beauty, cultivating deep connections with transformational impacts on people and nature. We are a mission-driven Limited Liability Company founded in 2012 as a response to global warming and other environmental catastrophes. Our mission: nurture heart-centered relationships between all peoples and the more-than-human world of nature.”

Anyone that has known me for any amount of time will no doubt understand why this training was such a perfect fit for me. I’ve spent over a decade working on climate change and other environmental causes, so the fact that global warming was front and center in the founder’s vision was an immediate signal that I had found the right fit. What many may not know is that back in my college years, I started the journey toward a degree in Forestry at UGA. I loved the idea of the forest being my workplace, and I had aspirations to be a park ranger of some kind. My path was diverted back then and I took a totally different turn into music and nightlife, which lead to my career in Marketing and Strategy. 

With all that as context, I have shifted my attention back to the woods and forest environments in recent years, and my love of backpacking and wilderness has blossomed into a wonderful way of getting in touch with the present moment during times of craziness and a hectic lifestyle. Coming full circle and learning to guide others in their reconnection with the ‘More than Human World’ is a perfect fit. 

This particular tradition of Forest Therapy has its roots in the Japanese practice of Shinrin-Yoku, or Forest Bathing. In the 1980s, as technology-based careers became widespread, the Japanese people were experiencing elevated stress-related health issues, so the government was looking for a solution to help its people unplug and de-stress. The practice of Shinrin-Yoku was born. Multiple scientific studies have been conducted that show the psychological and physiological benefits of forest bathing, so it’s more than just a touchy-feely activity. 

My journey toward certification as a Forest Therapy Guide began in August of 2020 and in the early days of the program, I developed an instant bond with the trainers and the rest of the training cohort of ~35 other participants. The training has historically been done with in-person immersive week-long experiences, however Covid-19 caused a shift in the curriculum to online learning and virtual guided walks. 

Each trainee was taught to embody ‘The Way of the Guide,’ which is a conceptual framework that is intended to pave the way for the forest itself to be the therapist, while we as guides simply open the doors. It’s intentionally not a teaching practice or a healing modality; we are taught to embody the archetype of a guide, which accompanies people on a journey of their own making, while offering invitations to tune into the senses along the way. 

When I consider the issues I’ve worked on to create a better world, every one of them can be positively impacted by more people getting in touch with the present moment and developing a deeper appreciation for nature. Thus, this feels like a calling to me. Guiding people through a journey into liminality and hearing people share about what they are noticing along the way is richly rewarding. I see, feel, and experience more in my own walks in the woods now as a result of the learnings I’ve gained. 

Part of the training curriculum is to lead a series of ‘practice walks’ where we guide others through a Forest Therapy Walk. I had a chance to conduct 5 of these walks during my training and all of them were done at the Frazer Forest just around 3 miles from Downtown Atlanta. It turns out that I didn’t have to go far from home to realize the benefits of this deeper connection with the forest. I would never have imagined I could have such profound experiences in a city environment. This was one of the biggest opportunities for growth that I’ve had in many years. 

During my time training in Forest Therapy and guiding others in this way, I’ve learned to slow down and notice the little things that are happening all around me that I had never fully noticed before. Hiking and backpacking (my favorite outside activities) are often more about getting somewhere than slowing down and just being in the woods. We miss so much of what’s happening as we zoom along on the trails of life, and having a structured practice that helps us reconnect to what’s happening in the present moment is invaluable. 

My final assignment is to ‘harvest’ something from my experience these past 6 months, and this post is my expression of that harvest. I’ve cultivated a deeper appreciation for time amongst the trees and the larger web of life in forest environments, and I’ve learned to slow down and tune into my senses without having to go on an epic journey hundreds or even thousands of miles away. I have the ability to develop a deeper bond with the natural world and help others do the same on a short bike ride from home. 

As my certification comes to its completion, I’ll be offering Forest Therapy walks to individuals and small groups in the Atlanta area. The walks themselves are typically 2-3 hours total and are accessible to most people with modest physical abilities. You don’t have to be a big hiker or fitness pro to go on a Forest Therapy walk. In fact, some walks only cover 1/4 -1/2 a mile from start to finish! 

I can’t say enough positive things about this program and ANFT’s style of teaching. It has been one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. I look forward to opening the doors for others to have a connection with the forest. Maybe the forest will be my ‘office’ after all! 

For more info on upcoming Forest Therapy Walks, click here.

It’s funny how quickly life can turn based on a moment of awareness or a comment made in a seemingly mundane and unremarkable conversation. If you said to me 6 months ago that I was going to get a truck, learn the art of milling wood on a saw mill, and deliver firewood to friends and family, I would almost certainly have laughed it off. Yet, that’s exactly what happened. 

2 years ago when I made the decision to go car-free, I calculated the savings that were possible and I actually exceeded this by quite a bit. At the time, my life was primarily conducted in the city within biking distance to most everything I did. The occasional trip out of town was easily handled through car rentals. I lament that I barely used Zipcar. It just wasn’t economical for the types of trips I was taking. 

Back in the Fall of 2019, I began a process of deepening my commitment as a fire keeper at a sweat lodge community I’ve been a part of for 8 years up near the Cohutta Wilderness in the north Georgia mountains. Every full moon, we gather in ceremony to awaken, heal, honor our ancestors, and develop courage, strength, stamina and endurance that will serve us out in the world in these times of great uncertainty. It’s an ancient native spiritual practice that has been passed on through the ages, and it’s the most potent expression of love and appreciation I’ve ever experienced. 

Working with fire by definition means working with wood. I found myself going deep on the topic of firewood sourcing. Where does it come from? How does it get to the final point of use? What are the economics involved? 

For those fortunate enough to live on land with ample timber, all of this may sound pretty simple – you get the wood from the land, then cut it and split it yourself. However, for most people, someone else is doing a lot of that work to provide firewood you can use to heat your home, create ambiance, etc. Some restaurants (and indeed vast numbers of people globally) also use firewood to cook their food. After all, fire’s 2 primary uses since it was discovered are cooking and heating, often both at the same time. 

To make a long and meandering story short(ish), one day on my way to a lodge ceremony, I passed by a clear cut piece of land with discarded logs piled up around the barren fields. Something triggered when I saw that sight. I found myself thinking: we need to go and get that wood to use during sweat lodges. A couple of phone calls later, we got in touch with the owner of the land who told us to take what we wanted before they burned the piles onsite. 

This sparked an almost obsessive desire to save as much of that wood as possible before it was wasted completely. My efforts led me to operating a chainsaw for the first time in my life (I now have 3), and learning to split logs with an axe as well as with a hydronic splitter. 3 trailer loads of wood were rescued in all. A drop in the bucket for sure. 

At this point, my focus was solely on being of service to the sweat lodge community. Shortly after that, I awakened to a much deeper opportunity through a happenstance conversation with my cousin Whitney, who makes furniture out of local reclaimed wood in Atlanta.  When I explained my quest to use this vast supply of wood for ceremonies, he clued me in on how many resources lay dormant on his property, and how much potential there was to utilize a consistent supply of wood from local trees that might otherwise end up in a landfill. 

A landfill. 

That’s where the conversation truly took a hard turn. The thought of trees being sent to a landfill almost made me crazy! How could such a tremendous resource be wasted like this? Put simply, it’s often easier and cheaper for tree companies to dispose of downed trees this way in lieu of alternative methods. 

I’ve spent the past 12 years of my life contemplating resource use and the systems that prop up wasteful industries. I suppose I’m primed to hear about opportunities to reduce waste and dial into conversations about supply chains and sustainability therein. I’ve spent 8 years lobbying for carbon pricing legislation in DC that would provide a market signal that fossil fuels have unintended, externalized costs and are far less economical than they appear to be.  

Crusading for a new energy paradigm is exhausting to say the least. Holding the awareness of what we are doing to the planet and still functioning day-to-day can be difficult. I sometimes withdraw and ponder what is likely to go down in my lifetime. It can get quite dark, honestly. 

That’s where ceremony comes in. A continual spiritual practice where love and gratitude are central helps keep me tuned into doing the best I can with what I have to offer during my brief earth walk. How can I make the most of it and be of most service while I’m here? This is the driving thrust of my journey now. 

There’s an admission I needed to make to take the next step. The efforts globally to turn the corner on fossil fuel use and habitat destruction have not produced results in the timeframes necessary to avoid substantial disruption in the biosphere. For whatever reason, we don’t seem to grasp that destroying our environment is like racing as fast as possible toward a giant cliff. I believe that we will eventually make the turn, yet it is increasingly likely that it will be the result of massive disruption and global unrest. Simply put, it’s not going to be pretty.

None of this is to say that I’ve given up. To the contrary, I now see more than ever the importance of community and respect for the land and water that sustains us. My vision has shifted toward learning how to live a simpler life and tuning into earth’s natural rhythms. I’m looking forward to acquiring a piece of land that can be a respite for those who seek this deeper connection and wish to tune into these rhythms as well.

This year, I plan to sell my loft in Cabbagetown – my home of 18 years, and begin this new chapter in earnest. While I will still consider Cabbagetown my home and stay in my friend’s house 1 block away, the famous John Muir quote “The mountains are calling and I must go” certainly applies. I’m ready to understand what it means to live on the land and connect with the process of building things, growing food, and being respectful of the resources used to live and love life. 

I don’t intend to abandon the city at this point, and I’ll continue to participate in both local and global efforts to shift our collective path toward a more sustainable existence. I will also keep holding space for a brighter future for humanity through ceremony, community building, and the like – hopefully more so with this intention being held closer. 

The biggest difference in my path, as I see it now, is that being in the woods, just as I was as a kid, will be central to my life – not something I experience on occasion. It feels like I may finally be coming back full circle to a path I saw back in 1993 – working in the forest and helping others have experiences in the forest. 

Working with trees in an urban environment as a way of bridging into this new future somehow seems like a perfect fit. Tuning into this conversation has been one of the greatest gifts of my life, and I feel much lighter and happier when I’m in this mode. As time goes on, I expect this will be more and more prominent in my journey as the older aspects of my life, including my business, take a back seat to what is fundamental to my experience of being human. 

I don’t know how this will all happen – I just know a shift is underway, and there’s no going back. 

I’ve thought a good bit about the dissonance with enjoying car-free life yet now leasing a truck. Ultimately, I arrived at the place where I view the truck as a utility – a tool for deepening my communion with the natural world and my spiritual community. In a perfect world, there would be an electric truck I could buy and use for this purpose. Unfortunately we are not there yet. I’m hopeful that at the end of the 3-year lease, there will be options available. In the meantime, I’ve made my peace with the fact that I’m using these resources mindfully, and in the spirit of service. 

+ + + + + +

Reading this post now that we are in the throes of a pandemic reinforces my decision to pursue this path. As I sit inside alone and ponder the situation we find ourselves in as a single human family, it’s harder that ever to ignore the conclusion that this was bound to happen. And it will keep happening. 

It’s up to each of us to wake up and become conscious of how we are living and the impacts our daily choices have on the rest of the planet. COVID-19 is forcing us to reckon with how interconnected we are. Whether we choose to embrace this interconnectedness and evolve accordingly is yet to be seen. 

In the meantime, please be good to each other and stay healthy. The world needs us all to awaken and step forward. 

Now for the breakdown on how that happened:

I was spending around $1,000/month on vehicle expenses when I had my car; occasionally more, but this is a reasonable baseline. This was mainly the lease payment and the insurance (which was getting out of control at $234/month). I didn’t drive that much, so fuel was never a big factor. So, a total of around $12,000/year to have a nice car that was parked the vast majority of the time. When I was contemplating going car-free, I reasoned that I could easily cut those costs in half using various methods of transport: Lyft, ZipCar, MARTA (public transit), car rentals for longer trips, and my bicycle as the primary means of transport.

What actually happened? I used ZipCar three times. Three! I thought surely I’d be using it far more often than that, but it turns out that it just wasn’t needed that much. I rented cars 3 times for out of town trips, including one that was a 10-day trip to Florida. Here are the major buckets:

Lyft: $415
MARTA: $83
ZipCar: $218
Car Rental: $805
Gas: $274 (for car rentals)

Together, that’s just shy of $1,800 that I can verify. The caveat is that all of these expenses were on my AmEx card (which is what I use for all Lyft rides, car rentals, MARTA, etc.). There may have been a few small expenses here and there on my Chase card, but the search function on the Chase site sucks and I can only go back to August (and the filters are also abysmal). Hat tip to AmEx for making it super easy to track and categorize expenses. So, to err on the conservative side, I’ve estimated roughly $200 more in miscellaneous expenses. so approximately $2,000 for the entire year. I’m even impressed with this number myself!

The other expense that I didn’t include was the purchase of a new bike. I decided to buy a nice bike when I got rid of the car since I had never actually bought a bike for myself ever before. Technically, I didn’t have to buy a new bike – I had one that worked just fine, which is why I didn’t include this expense. But even if I did, it would be another $1750. Still massive savings over 2017.

So, what are the takeaways? First, I didn’t ‘need’ to travel by car nearly as much as I anticipated. I biked basically everywhere when I was in town. This included running errands, buying groceries, going out to meet friends, etc. I did borrow friends’ cars a few times for short errands (mainly related to moving stuff), but this was very infrequent.

Second, I saved far, far more than I imagined! In my head, I figured I would use the money saved to have memorable experiences, travel, etc. That is certainly what happened! I had several amazing experiences in 2018, including 5 trips to Alaska (one of which was 2 months long), and a backpacking trip in Sweden north of the Arctic Circle.

Third, I was much healthier this past year. I lost ~10 pounds in the first few months and felt better than ever before. I went through the winter biking in rain, sleet, cold temps, etc. and never got sick. Pretty awesome!

Finally, I absolutely do not feel that this was a sacrifice in any way. I don’t miss having a car at all. In fact, my only regret is that I didn’t do it sooner! I’m way happier, healthier, and much better traveled as a result of my decision. I’d do it again in a heartbeat!

I greatly appreciate all the encouragement I received along the way, and especially my friend Angel Luis Poventud for going with me to Loose Nuts Cycles to pick out my bike last January! I couldn’t have asked for a better bike shop experience, from the initial purchase to the periodic service items they took care of. Stellar experience! And lest I forget, the guys at The Spindle ATL are stand up guys with excellent gear, including the rain gear I bought for riding in all weather conditions.

That’s my story of being car-free in 2018. ~$10,000 saved and countless fun experiences as a result. If you’re considering ditching the car, I’d be happy to talk through my experience in greater detail. Just reach out and let me know!

One year ago, I had a life changing experience while visiting Alaska and it affected my outlook in a major way. I was visiting my cousin during the Thanksgiving holiday and part of our emerging tradition was going on epic hikes in the Alaska wilderness. I’ve had some of the best hikes of my life while visiting him over the past two Thanksgiving holidays. 

Just imagine looking at a huge map of the stunning Chugach mountains sprawled out on a dining table with a couple of guidebooks providing trail descriptions. Now imagine it’s the night before a big hike day and it’s time to decide where to go the next morning. That was us. 

I’m someone that likes to cover new ground whenever possible. Sure, I like to revisit awesome places again and again, but when I’m traveling to a place as vast as Alaska, I want to see some new things! Falls Creek In Chugach State Park was the hike that captured our attention as we debated the options before us. Something about the difficulty level and the option of adding a summit at the end of the trail sealed the deal. 

Falls Creek Trailhead – Chugach State Park, Alaska

When you’re exploring from Anchorage, several of the trailheads are accessed by the stunning Seward Highway that runs along Turnagain Arm, a truly spectacular body of water buttressed by the most beautiful snow covered mountains you can imagine. The Falls Creek trailhead is along that highway, and when we arrived to start out, we were the only ones there. 

The hike started out straightforward enough – moderately steep ascent on a snowy, narrow trail through lightly wooded slopes. We eventually made it through the trees and into the creek valley on the ascent up toward a glistening peak ahead.

Hiking through the woods at the start of the trail.

It was one of those days that was more beautiful than either of us could even put into words. But in our attempt, we commented that ‘this could be the most amazing hike of all time!’ That is saying a lot, given we are both very active hikers that have done some pretty amazing hikes in our lives. Such was the beauty that day. The sun was hitting the peak ahead of us, and behind us the v-shaped valley between the two mountains framed Turnagain Arm perfectly. We had a view of the water the entire day – all we had to do was turn around. Stunning mountain ahead, stunning water behind. What’s not to like?

As we continued up the valley, it was clear we intended to summit the peak ahead. After all, the book mentioned how this was the cherry on top of an already amazing hike. The further up we got, the deeper the snow became. At one point, I was waist deep in snow and we turned around to find another route up. Despite the physical challenges of the hike, we were in a blissful state and were beckoned by the picturesque peak ahead. 

Ascending through the valley with the peak beaming in the distance

Eventually as we rose along the side of the mountain, a couple of things happened. First, we realized the mountain we were climbing was not the one we thought we were on. Second, the snow gave way to ice as we continued higher and higher. We both had micro spikes for traction, which was fine on the snowy portions of the hike, but it was insufficient for the icy conditions we faced. Additionally, we had trekking poles that were certainly not designed for the mountaineering with which we were currently engaged. Still, we kept going. 

Ascending the mountain as terrain got steeper. Turnagain Arm is in the background.

We were burning daylight, which is in short supply in Alaska in late November. At one point, as we were in striking distance of the summit, we had a little ‘meeting’ to discuss whether we were going to continue the climb, turn back and brave the icy descent, or call a helicopter to come get us from the situation. Straight up, true story: a helicopter was mentioned. We made a deal: if we could summit in the next 30 minutes, cool. If not, we were turning back. 

I’ll be honest here: by the time we had that conversation, it was already too late – we were in a dangerous situation. We went out for a hike and ended up mountaineering on a steep, icy slope without proper gear. Yet, we pressed on. 

I had been leading most of the climb, so it was on me to keep us ascending. We climbed for another 10 minutes or so with the pitch getting steeper and steeper. The ice offered nothing in the way of firm footing and the only thing between us and falling off the mountain were a pair of trekking poles and an uncanny desire to complete the experience. We paused yet again to discuss our situation and this time, despite only being a couple of hundred feet from the peak, we decided we were turning back. 

Our final ascent up the mountain. This was taken on our way down – I broke the trail on the way up.

It’s much, much more difficult to descend in these conditions. Gravity wants to pull you down, and without firm footing, there is simply very little one can do to remain stable. I had made the turn to face downward with Warner now leading the descent. We both knew it was going to be difficult and extremely dangerous going down, so we took our time getting situated. And then my world changed forever. 

Just as we were getting our footing to start down, I started losing my balance. At first, I thought I could stabilize myself, but I soon realized I was in deep trouble. As I began to wobble, I knew instantly that I was going down on the ice and there was nothing to stop me from sliding off the icy ledge we were above. I did in fact go down, and as I began sliding, I reached for the last thing that I could grab – Warner’s boot, but it was too late. I can still feel the laces slipping through my fingers as I slid down the mountain. 

Warner called out my name loudly, watching me pick up speed as I slid toward the ledge. It was this moment that the strangest thing happened. I had the realization that I was in a quite likely fatal situation. Neither of us could see over the ledge, but we both knew it was very steep, icy, and rocky all around us. I knew that it was possible my life was about to end, but oddly enough I never thought I was actually going to die. 

Sliding ever faster, I reached the ledge and went airborne, careening out of sight. I landed in a snow field some distance below the ledge, and the momentum I had gained on the fall sustained itself even after my legs began digging into the deep snow. I was still falling and heading straight toward a second ledge, with the odds increasing that it was going to end very badly. Yet, with my body continuing to slide forward, I realized I was going to be able to stop before I went over. There was a tree barely sticking out of the snow directly in my path and I reasoned that I could grab the tree branches to stop myself if it came to that. 

I called back to Warner and told him I was ok, and we began the process of figuring out our next moves. I was badly shaken, but amazingly not hurt. I can still feel the sensation of being nearly waist deep in snow, terrified of making another wrong move, or any move at all. I was in a precarious situation to say the least. 

One of my trekking poles flew off on the ice sheet on the way down, so I was left with half of my stabilization, which was already insufficient, as evidenced by my fall. I was separated from Warner with no way to get back up to where he was. Luckily, he had an ice axe lashed to his pack, and after about 10 minutes of planning via yelling back and forth (we couldn’t see each other), we decided that I would attempt to cross the steep, snowy mountainside and meet up with him after he descended to intercept me. He would give me one of his trekking poles and use his ice axe to make the rest of the descent. 

The peak we almost summited. We were up in the steep, rocky area at the very top with nothing but ice for footing. Somewhere up there is my trekking pole.

The plan worked. It was terrifying to execute, however. I was a bundle of nerves and felt that I had just cheated death, so moving at all was tough. But, there wasn’t really another viable option. I had to get down. 

With only a single pole, I began the agonizing task of connecting up with Warner. Every step was carefully considered and I made absolutely certain I had stable footing before making a single move. Eventually we met up and descended together to a point where our lives weren’t in jeopardy with each step. It was then that I made 2 important declarations: 

1. All of life is a bonus from here on out. Literally, everything that happens in my life. I knew in that moment that things would be different afterward. More on that in a minute.

2. I’d do it again. Maybe not exactly that way, but I wasn’t going to stop pursuing these kinds of adventures. I would make different choices when faced with these situations, but I wouldn’t shy away from opportunities to feel so alive. 

Sunset over Turnagain Arm

I share this now for a couple of reasons. First, I think it’s worth celebrating a life-altering experience when it has such profound implications on one’s perspective. Second, I hope it will provide others some inspiration to get out and explore the world more, with proper gear of course. Life happens when we are outside our comfort zones, and mine has been truly enriched by this experience. 

I’ve followed through on my declaration that day in year since. I met someone special in Anchorage a few days later and we have been together ever since. He’s traveled to visit me in Atlanta twice and I’ve been to see him 4 times in Anchorage. I went back to Alaska at the end of July to spend a couple of months up there and continue to explore the place that had such a profound impact on my life. 

Some tangible changes I’ve made in my life in the year since my mountaintop experience include:

1. Got rid of my car and bought a new bike as my primary transportation. I’ve never been happier or healthier!
2. Used SkyMiles, Chase and AmEx points to travel more and spend time doing what I love doing, instead of hoarding them for some magical trip ‘someday,’ which is what I’d been doing for many years. 
3. Revisited my career path and work choices (still ongoing) and looked for ways to streamline this aspect of my life to make more room for what lights me up in life. 
4. Took a big step forward in my relationship with my mom and began the healing of some old wounds that were holding me back. 
5. Orchestrated my summer so I could spend 2 months in Alaska while taking some time away from work to continue evaluating how I want this aspect of my life to grow in the years ahead.
6. Completed the Fjällräven Classic, a 110km thru hike in Sweden with a wonderful group of people from Atlanta and the Bay area.
7. Transitioned my office lease over to a partner agency so that I could be truly ‘location independent.’ This promises to open up a whole world of possibilities!

First stop along the Fjällräven Classic thru hike. Stunning scenery!

Most of these things would have been unthinkable a year ago. Certainly, I could never have imagined I’d be visiting Alaska on a regular basis, much less maintaining a long distance relationship there! 

There’s a quote that’s been in my email inbox for 3 years that really speaks to me. It’s from Gretchen Rubin’s daily ‘Moment of Happiness’ emails:

Do not look back. And do not dream about the future, either. It will neither give you back the past, nor satisfy your other daydreams. Your duty, your reward—your destiny—are here and now.” – Dag Hammarskjold, Markings

It was sent on July 27, 2015. 3 years to the day before my 2-month trip to Alaska began this summer. I can’t think of a more appropriate quote to encapsulate how this experience has impacted my life, and the timing of the message is uncanny. It’s all about now. Saying Yes to the present moment. Letting life unfold without putting artificial restrictions on it. 

This is where I am today. I hope that in some small way, this story will impact someone else positively. Maybe it will be the catalyst for someone taking a big chance in life, or maybe it will just make someone smile. Whatever the outcome, I know that I’ve done my part in sharing the experience. 

Feel free to share what’s coming up for you in this story. Or just let it marinate and see if anything shifts in the coming days. Either way, I hope you enjoyed the read. 

Onward. 

Day 5
I awoke just before sunrise and quickly got my camera out for what I knew would be a beautiful scene over the valley to the east of my campsite. I was not disappointed. The sunrise was truly magnificent! Some fog hung low along the bottom of valley and in the pockets between the mountains in all directions. I got some great photos and made breakfast while watching the valley come to life.

Sunrise over the valley

I decided I was going to get an early start so I would be hiking over Switchback Pass before it got hot. After I had everything almost ready, I went down to the lake to pump water for the hike, which is when I came upon a scene so beautiful I could hardly believe what I was seeing.

The water was like glass and the reflection of the trees and mountain in the perfectly still surface was just as spectacular as the sunrise! I took several photos before pumping water and disturbing the pristine water. My timing was perfect, as 5 minutes later the wind blew in with some rain and disturbed the scene.

Glassy surface on Dean Lake

On the way back to the campsite, a couple of deer followed me with curiosity as I went back to get my pack. They hung out for a couple of minutes, but when the rain started, I was in a hurry to cover my pack and they ran off. The hike up to Switchback Pass was uneventful, but rewarding from the top. I contemplated climbing either of the mountains to the side of the pass, but the sky was looking gloomy and there was nowhere to hide at the top if a storm did form. I had already heard thunder and decided not to push my luck.

Deer in the campsite before heading out

I ran into a through hiker that was on the CDT and we chatted for a bit. I asked him if he wanted any of my food (I grossly overpacked food for this trip) and he gladly agreed. I had all my food spread out and told him he could have whatever he wanted. He offered to trade me some candy, so I took a Twix from his stash, which was basically a bag full of candy bars. I bid him farewell and ran into the family I met on day 2 and also the guys from Dean Lake shortly after. This was the busiest intersection of human contact I had the entire trip.

Ultralight Backpacking in action!

Food trading on Switchback Pass

By that point, visions of cold beer and a hot shower had become too much to resist, so I made the decision to push out to the trailhead (about 16 miles from the pass). The hike down the pass was a total joy, although I could see how the hike up could be a real ball buster (4.5 miles of steady climb). I got to Pentagon Cabin around 1:30 and by that point it was quite hot. I still had over 10 miles of hiking, but along very manageable and essentially level terrain. Still, I had been hiking for 10 days and had sore feet and sore shoulders, so the last few miles were brutal. It was 90+ degrees and hiking through a burn zone provided no cover from the scorching sun.

Again, the thought of a hot meal and a Going to the Sun IPA was enough for me to push through. At any point, I could have stopped and camped for the night. I had enough food for another 3 days, but my mind was made up. I would soldier on. I stopped twice to pump more water, with the final pumping about 4 miles from the trailhead.

Hiking down off Switchback Pass

I’ve found that the last few miles of a backpacking trip are sometimes the toughest, and this was no exception. I was running on fumes in the last couple of miles, but determination kicked in and I pushed on. Eventually, the glisten of car bodies came into view up the hill from the trail and the sign for the Silvertip trailhead emerged. It was just after 6pm – exactly 5 days after I first stepped into the Bob. I was overjoyed that I had made it out without incident and in time to make it back to Seeley Lake to meet up with my aunt and uncle for a late dinner and drinks – nearly 4 hours away.

The experience in The Bob was one of the most incredible things I’ve ever done in my life. Sure, I’ve been backpacking and done a few solo overnight trips, but never anything of this magnitude. I suppose in some way I proved to myself that I was capable of holding my own in the wilderness, and I could certainly have stayed longer to experience more. But it was amazing the way it all unfolded and I have no regrets whatsoever. I would do it again in a heartbeat.

Adjusting to life back in civilization was a phased approach, with the next couple of days being spent in Seeley Lake and Whitefish enjoying the local Montana culture. Then, the inevitable return to Atlanta was upon me. The night before I left, a strong line of storms came through the area igniting several wildfires in this stunningly beautiful landscape. As I drove to Missoula to catch the flight home, a thick smoke had blanketed the whole valley between the majestic Rocky Mountains and the Mission mountain range off to the west.

My first observation before landing in Missoula was the smoke from the Washington state fires, and here on my final day, the smoke was its thickest of the whole 2 week period. I came to Montana to experience the Climate Hike and see how climate change had impacted the majestic Glacier National Park. What I saw blew me away beyond description. I feel more compelled than ever to do everything in my power to be a positive force for protecting the natural beauty and delicate climate we enjoy on this magnificent blue planet. So, I will continue to do my part and share this point of view with anyone who will listen.

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In the month following this adventure and the writing of this trip recap, an acquaintance of mine and fellow World Domination Summit alum, Scott Dinsmore lost his life while climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro. His death shocked and saddened people around the world who were inspired by his passion and drive for ‘Living Your Legend.‘ Although I never got to know Scott, the outpouring of love by those who he touched has reminded me of how important it is to live everyday with a relentless pursuit of what matters to me.

Check out Scott’s inspiring and thought provoking  TEDx talk below:

Scott’s path has inspired people around the world to reach for life, not just accept the life that they’re given. Trips like this one to Montana are examples of how I reach for more in my life. There are plenty of reasons not to take 2 weeks off to wander in the woods. Solo backpacking in bear country, while perceived by some as dangerous and foolish, is incredibly liberating and inspiring – something that few people will ever do. I believe that the life I’m called to lead happens when there are elements of danger, risk and uncertainty involved. I know with complete certainty that Scott would agree.

During my final preparations for this trip, I was reminded that one of the biggest aspects of my calling is sharing the love and beauty in nature with others. I thank you for reading thus far and I hope this story has inspired you and perhaps even sparked an adventurous streak in you. There is much to explore on this beautiful planet and many people to share it with.

Where will you explore next and who will you share it with?