I’ve always had champagne taste and a beer budget, though that’s rarely stopped me from doing what I want—borrowed gear, nights spent in the back of my car, and a healthy relationship with Top Ramen have gotten me to plenty of summits. When it comes to adventure planning, I tend to shoot first and ask questions later.
A few weeks ago, Bix and I got an exciting invitation: a ten-day trip to Hawaii, where we’d run a few legs of a 200-mile relay and backpack in Hawaii Volcanoes National Park.
We instantly went into trip planning mode. How much would airfare be? Could we get the time off work? Would TSA confiscate our JetBoil? What’s the likelihood of my being eaten by a shark when Bix talks me into taking a crack at surfing? Continue reading “Smoke ’em if you got ’em”
I guess I should rephrase: I’m a morning person once I’m up and at ‘em. Before I get out of bed, it’s anyone’s guess what might happen. It takes a lot of coaxing for me to drag my ass out of bed every morning.
I’m a morning person. I like watching the sunrise and drinking my first cup of coffee without being rushed. But it wasn’t always this way. I’m a morning person because my favorite things happen in the morning, or, rather, because morning is the time to do them if you want to beat thunderstorms and traffic. Continue reading “Rise and shine”
I’ve lived in close proximity to mountains my whole life. Everyone I know who grew up near a big body of water says they feel a little lost in a place without it; that’s how I feel about big hills. I don’t even know how to give directions in cities where I can’t just be like, “Head west—toward the mountains” or “Hold on, I’m running late because there’s a moose in my front yard.” Continue reading “How to live in a mountain town”
The other night, as we sat on the porch watching the sun set into the foothills, Bix announced that he had itchy feet.
“Well,” I told him, “We finally have insurance. Maybe you should get that checked out.” Continue reading “Spring fever”
A few weekends ago, I skied with my mom. We made the traditional bagel stop before hitting the highway, drove up and over Berthoud Pass, and parked at the base of Mary Jane. Eventually, I would demand we break for a giant brownie at the lodge. Everything was exactly like when I was a kid. Continue reading “Mom knows best”
my alaskan odyssey 