Remember reading something about the ridge being the safest route in snow so I hook a left to find a clear break line I just walked underneath of. Danger now officially not imagined and can no longer be ignored.


Remember reading something about the ridge being the safest route in snow so I hook a left to find a clear break line I just walked underneath of. Danger now officially not imagined and can no longer be ignored.

“Oh fuck,” I say under my breath, and reach for my bear spray. I have it out in seconds, aiming at the thick slope of huckleberry bushes, still rumbling with activity. A series of loud snorts comes at us and I know we have to retreat.

The mountains’ shadow now envelops us, offering cooler air and a rushed sense of excitement over what we just did. We stand in a line, looking back at the cliff, and let a joint sense of accomplishment settle into us. Now we can move on.

Why do people carry 4-pound tools miles up a mountain to bust their butts on a day off? I’m not […]

You know you’ve had a proper weekend in the wilderness when, as you finally take a shower after returning home, the dirt visibly runs off your body for a solid five minutes, and for the following three days you discover bruises, cuts and blisters all over, but don’t remember how you got them.

We packed up our tent and drove to a camping spot I’d found in the Coeur d’Alene Mountains from where we could see the monster we just climbed. On our way a male moose took a good stare at us, and while we were setting up our tent on a hidden meadow, a Bald Eagle (American Eagle) flew casually overhead. As the sun set over our dead-silent camp we made a strong fire and rewarded our efforts with several beers. Life doesn’t get much better than this.