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Family

Epic Adventure – and Longing

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Hi. My name is Shelli. I’m 43 years old. I have been married to Jerry for almost 20 years and we have three young sons, Wolf, 11, Hayden, 9, and Finis, 4.

Sending a message to my husband and sons from Alaska's Brooks Range.

This is a post about a wife and mother’s longing. It is also a post about a once-in-a-lifetime “epic” experience that I will never forget. It is also a post about gratitude. To be a wife and mother who was supported and encouraged to have an experience like the one recalled in this post is a gift for which I’ll be forever grateful. (With Thanksgiving approaching, now is a good time for me to thank most of all my husband, Jerry, who is my biggest champion, and who encouraged me to embark on this adventure while “holding down the fort.” Also, a big thank you to my parents, who helped with the boys while I was away, and to all who provide friendship and support to me.)

It was taking seemingly forever to get our expedition started. I was in The Last Frontier, headed to The Far North, to the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, in Alaska’s Brooks Range. I had looked forward to this adventure for months and was ready to get the party started. But as I was finding out, it takes a long time to get away from civilization.

After a night in a Fairbanks campground, we boarded a small airplane and spent a couple of hours flying to Coldfoot. After landing, we loaded into a van and spent three more hours traveling north before, finally, we were dropped off along the side of the road.

I was on my way to spending 12 days backpacking and exploring, while learning wilderness travel, outdoor skills and leadership from the world’s premier teacher, the National Outdoor Leadership School.

The experience I was about to embark upon was a dream come true. Actually it was two dreams come true.

Up until my departure for this trip, I had just one regret in my life, and that was that I had never taken a NOLS course. I was raised in Lander, Wyoming, where NOLS is headquartered. During my formative years, my parents would have supported my enrollment in a NOLS course and had offered as much. Unfortunately, I was more interested in my social life and basketball. But that was then. Now, I am an outdoor enthusiast. I love everything NOLS stands for, and I take pride in the fact that my town is home to the organization.

In recent years, when my regret for having never enrolled in a NOLS course would surface, friends who work at NOLS would tell me, “You know, it’s never too late.” But I wasn’t quick to agree. After all, I am a mother of young children. It felt selfish to think of embarking on a 2-week adventure. So, enrolling in a NOLS course was no small deal for me. It was a dream that had been hard for me to “justify.”

The other reason the NOLS course would be a dream come true for me is because of its location. I travel the country in search of the most epic scenery. In my mind, no place embodied epic better than Alaska’s Brooks Range. It would be a dream come true for me to get to intimately explore such an epic place.

Alaska is huge. Situated in the northwest extremity of the North America, with Canada to the east, the Arctic Ocean to the north and the Pacific Ocean to the west and south, Alaska has a larger coastline that all U. S. states combined. Occupying 586,000 square miles, it is the largest U. S. state. And yet, it is the least populated. To put it in perspective, there is one person per square mile.

It’s vast, unpopulated and extremely wild, complete with grizzly bears. For all of these reasons, the NOLS Brooks Range Hiking course was perfect. Like I said, the things dreams are made of.

Except for one problem. It would come with some longing –– some serious longing.

Here is a clip of photos I captured and printed to be included in letters and cards a neighbor mailed to Jerry and boys for me every day while I was away:

Due to one of NOLS’ policies, which I understand, appreciate and support, I would have no communication with anyone outside of our course. That’s right, two weeks of no communication with my family.

The farther north we traveled on the Dalton Highway, the more excited I became. And yet at the same time, the farther north we traveled, the more heart sick I became as I realized the scale of this region and its distance from my family.

I should mention that traveling and being away from my family is not unusual for me. I travel frequently. When I am away, I miss them very much and, as a result I limit and select travel with great care. Typically I’m away for no longer than 1-3 days, and I can start and end each day in conversation with all of my sons. In a way, I can be there for them even though I’m geographically not there.

During my NOLS course, I would not be there for them. And, they would not be there for me.

I have many friends who are terrific role models as parents, who travel much more than I do. In the weeks leading up to my NOLS course, I looked to them for support. Their input was helpful. They told me things like, “This is good modeling for your sons. You want them to choose girls/women who are adventurous and brave.” And: “Think of the special gift you’re providing by leaving them to have these two weeks of special time with their father.” And: “Think of the country you will see and the tales of adventure you will get to share with your family upon your return.” And: “This is a dream of yours. It’s not a vacation, but an expedition. It will grow you. The knowledge and experience you gain from it will enable you to have a greater impact on the lives of your children, and future clients.” It all made perfect sense.

But. Still.

“Video Love Notes” I captured for Jerry and our sons during my NOLS Brooks Range Hiking course:

I worried aloud about not being here for my boys for two whole weeks. To this, some of closest friends reminded me that children are resilient and that although my sons love me, they probably wouldn’t miss me as much as I think they would, or as much as I would miss them. While hearing this was not exactly comforting, it was honest, and therefore helpful as I prepared to long for my boys.

Being away from my boys, with no ability to hear their voices and know how their lives and days were going, would – hands down – be the most difficult part of my NOLS experience. This much I knew.

The rain and intermittent snow, hiking through spongy tundra, and tussocks and through alders and across rivers and up steep, loose, exposed mountain ridges with a heavy pack on my back was easy compared to enduring the longing I had for my boys. The longing for my boys was at its worst at the end of each day when we all retreated to our tents. I would lie there and yearn to hear their voices, to smell their hair, to hold their hands, to “dog-pile” with them, and just to be in their presence. I was emotionally tender during these times. I literally had a heart ache.

Letter from our 4-year-old son, Fin.
Letter from our 9-year-old son, Hayden.
Letter from our 11-year-old son, Wolf.
The boys often roll their eyes at me, the only girl in our home. Here is a photo they included with their notes to me where there are glued on plastic rolling eyes glued onto their eyes.

When I sign up for something that is hard, I grow. My NOLS Brooks Range course was hard, all right. But, it was also, truly, an experience of a lifetime.

Despite the longing, I made life-long friends with my eight course-mates and our two wonderful instructors. I was blown away and inspired to new levels by the sights and scale of Alaska’s Brooks Range. I experienced the best leadership training, ever. I grew. I returned more, and better, than I was before. Part of this is due to the longing I experienced. Because my NOLS course meant sacrificing time and contact with my family, I participated in the course and experienced the Alaska tundra to the absolute fullest. As a result of all of these things, I cannot imagine a richer experience. And, I am quite certain that I returned a better mother and wife.

Photos I captured during my NOLS Brooks Range Hiking course for Jerry and our sons:

For all of you considering a NOLS course, I cannot recommend it enough. Please feel free to contact me to ask more personal or extensive questions about my experience.

This “self interview” captured on my final day in the Brooks Range says it better than my written words:

In closing, here are some things I did before my departure to ensure my boys would be touched, and reminded of my love, on a daily basis, despite no real-time communication with them, as well as some things I did for them during my absence.

  • 1.) I snapped photos of me holding an “I Love You” poster from various points around Lander where my family I often frequent. I had prints made of each of these photos and then included them in a letter or card I wrote (in advance) for Jerry and our sons. I arranged for our neighbors, Terry and Gene, to drop one in the mail each day I was away. This way the boys received mail from me every day while I was hiking in the Alaska tundra. (In some of the mail I included gift certificates to the local ice cream shop, or pizza gift cards, or for my husband, coffee gift certificates.) It made for a lot of work in the days leading up to my NOLS course, but it was well worth it because I took comfort in the ability to “touch” my boys while I was out of communication.
  • 2.) I recorded a video message for them. It is too personal for me to post here, but suffice it to say it was hard for me to do, but important for me to do. I loaded it onto Jerry’s laptop the morning I departed and instructed them to open and view it once I was officially out of touch.
  • 3.) The first night in the tent in the Alaska tundra, when I dug my journal out to record the events of the day, I discovered an envelope of items from Jerry and the boys. They had each written me a letter and included some photos. I was so moved and touched to read letters from my boys. Instead of dwelling on missing me, their words cheered me and told me how much they loved me. (With my sons’ permission, I’ve included photos of their notes to me in this post. I didn’t include a photo of the one from Jerry, which will forever remain very special to me.)
  • 4.) At home, I’m quite outnumbered, the only girl in a house of four males, plus a male puppy. For various reasons, the boys are always rolling their eyes at me. One of the things included in the envelope from them was a photo of the three boys with plastic googly-rolling eyes glued to them. (See photo).
  • 5.) Before I departed for Alaska, it was decided the boys would have their own expedition — a project we termed, “Expedition Basement.” Basically, while their mommy was away they would have full rein in creating a “Boy Cave” downstairs. This gave them something exciting to look forward to, while facilitating a project for them to focus their creative energies on without my interference. 🙂 You should see it. Paint thrown on the walls, a big screen television, skull and cross bone flags, and even a mini-fridge (for their juice pops I guess?) It’s a riot.
  • 6.) While I was away, backpacking in Alaska’s Brooks Range, I enlisted my course-mates to capture photos of me holding an “I Love You” note. (By the way, my course-mates were a terrific family-away-from-family.)
  • 7.) I also captured a few “video love notes” for Jerry and the boys from various points during the NOLS course.

    • RELATED LINKS:
    NOLS Brooks Range Hiking course — Not a Vacation
    My Brooks Range People Made Me Better

    I am a life/leadership coach. Services include on-demand coaching and consulting, with an option that includes an epic outdoor adventure. I also provide nutrition and personal branding consulting. Please email me if you’re interested in learning more about this.

    To Win, Back Yourself Against a Cliff

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    I am a goal-oriented person. I always am working on a goal, or ten.

    From time to time, I refer to the goals I set as Ulysses pacts. A Ulysses pact, or contract, is a self-made decision that binds one to the future. The term refers to the pact Ulysses (Odysseus) made with his men as they approached the Sirens. Sirens were the three dangerous bird women/seductresses who lured nearby sailors with their enchanting music to shipwreck on the rocky coast of their island.

    Ulysses wanted to hear the Sirens’ song but he knew doing so would render him irrational so he put wax in his men’s ears so that they were unable to hear, and had them tie him to the mast so that he could not jump into the sea. He then ordered them not to change course under any circumstances, and to keep their swords upon him to attack him if he should break free of his bonds. (Source: Wikipedia.org)

    I set many goals and achieve most of them. And while I don’t take it to the extreme that Ulysses did, I understand his thinking. I absolutely credit the achievement of my goals to my level of commitment to them, and to the fact I tie them to short-term consequence(s) with no chance for compromise. I’m sharing what works for me here in hopes it will be of value to others.

    It’s pretty easy to decide to do something. How many of us decide we’re going to eat healthier starting this week? But we don’t. Or we’re going to start going exercising again, and/or we’re going to join a gym.  But we don’t. We are going to limit our alcohol consumption, or give up smoking. But we don’t. We are going to start saying “no” more often. But we don’t. We are going to spend less time watching television. But we don’t. We are going to read more. But we don’t. The list goes on. We all do it.

    Deciding, while it’s a start, is not enough. I think pretty hard about something I want to achieve before deciding it is a goal. Then, I commit. (Deciding and committing, while they go together, are not the same things. The distinction is critical. Please watch this video for more.)

    Further, if the goal is too big, or too vague then it’s likely the goal won’t be achieved. I would have little chance at succeeding if I were to say, “I want to be healthier” or “I want to watch less television.” The goal needs to be very specific, with no ambiguity. As Chip and Dan Heath so effectively put it in their awesome book, Switch, we should “shrink the change” (make the goal not so vague or big) to increase our likelihood of success.

    For me to have any chance at succeeding at a goal, I make a big deal of it to those closest to me. I need not only their support, but also, very importantly, their accountability.

    So commitment is the first requirement. Tying the commitment it to short-term consequence(s) is the second.

    Neuroscientiest David Eagleman, in an EXCELLENT Radiolab.org podcast, called “Help!,” says one of the best strategies for breaking a habit or making a change or achieving a goal is to tie it to “some sort of emotional salience — some reason why they matter to us right now, otherwise they will never work.”

    A personal example is my weight loss journey that started in March of 2009. After three years of growing lazy, overweight and out of shape, the feeling of disgust and regret that I met with every single night when I went to bed served as the best motivator and consequence in my mission to lose weight and get healthy again.

    My goal was a long-term one – to be a vibrant mother and wife who takes care of her health and body. But the short-term consequences were what did it for me and kept me true to my commitment to good health once I set that goal. I tied the future goal to a short-term feeling of disgust and regret. I did not want to feel that way. So my battle became a battle of disgust vs. desire (to not exercise and to keep eating too much junk food). In my humble opinion and experience, disgust almost always wins over desire.

    Thomas C. Schelling is a Nobel Peace Prize-winning economist who has written a lot about the idea of commitment. (Being a fanatic about commitment, I enjoyed his Strategies of Commitment, which I highly recommend.)

    In the same, aforementioned Radiolab podcast, Schelling talks about arranging commitment “so you can’t compromise.”

    An example he gives is from ancient Greece. A Greek being pursued by a huge army of Persians had to make a stand on a hillside, and one of his generals said “I don’t think this is a good location to make our stand. There is a cliff behind us. There’s no way we can retreat if we need to.” He told the General, “Exactly.”

    Schelling personally enlisted this strategy in his own life. In the Radiolab.org podcast, Schelling tells of his own win over smoking. In 1980, after many failed attempts to quit smoking, he gathered his children together, and told them, “I quit.” But that wasn’t all. He told them they “should never have respect for their father again” if he returned to smoking. Guess what? He never smoked again.

    I will give one more example of a goal of mine with short-term consequence, which is far less significant than giving up smoking, but illustrates the effectiveness of the strategy this post is about.

    I’m on Day 7 of a 30-day “no nuts or fruits” pact. If I screw up, my short-term consequences for the week are: 1) I cannot have the scoops of ice cream I have on Friday with my sons during our traditional weekly ice cream social, and 2) I have to train/exercise in the streets of Lander, which would mean forgoing the trails in the canyon, foothills and mountains above town, where I prefer to train. (Of course, fruits and nuts are good for a person. But I eat an excessive amount of both, so this is simply a pact to clean my slate on these items before reintroducing them at reasonable and healthy levels.)

    By the way, upon hearing the Sirens’ song, Ulysses was driven temporarily insane and struggled with all of his might to break free so that he might join the Sirens, which would have meant his death.

    But this is beside the point. He survived AND he didn’t give in to the Sirens. Right? Thanks for listening, and good luck with your goals.

    Shelli Johnson is a life/leadership coach. Her business, YOUR EPIC LIFE, Life Should Take Your Breath Away, combines coaching with an epic adventure. Email her for more information.

    RELATED POST:
    Self Control is an Exhaustible Resource

    My Brooks Range People Made Me Better

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    In the Brooks Range, on our last night.

    This is Post 2 in a series about my recent Alaska Brooks Range backpacking course.

    It was Aug. 6, the afternoon before the start of my NOLS Brooks Range Hiking course. I was in Alaska, enjoying the comforts of the Ah, Rose Marie Bed & Breakfast, in Fairbanks, while waiting for others enrolled in the course to arrive.

    As I waited to meet my course-mates, I wondered: What kind of person signs up for a Brooks Range NOLS course?

    I generally love people. I get energy from people, and am inspired by people. Still, I get a little nervous before meeting new people.

    We would be dropped off by the side of the road, north of the Arctic Circle, a region where evacuation is nearly impossible. We would be off the grid, and we would not be “picked up” for 12 days.

    We would be “stuck,” together.

    Strangers, dropped off on side of road in the Far North.

    After being dropped off, and watching the van drive off, I recalled a quote by John Kauffmann in John McPhee’s Coming Into the Country: “You come to this place on its terms. You assume the risk.”

    For me, part of the risk (read: scary part) of the NOLS course was setting off into The Far North with people I didn’t know.

    I did not enroll in a NOLS course for the people I would meet. I enrolled in the NOLS Brooks Range Hiking course because I wanted to experience an epic place that is wild and vast and home to very few people, and to learn leadership and outdoor skills from the world’s premier teacher.

    The NOLS course is not a guided tour or a vacation. It’s a lot of work. In fact, it is mostly work. The easiest part of the Brooks Range Hiking course was the hiking. When we weren’t hiking, we were setting up camp, cooking or baking, cleaning up, only to wake up again the next morning to break it all down and pack it all up and start all over again.

    My hiking team on top of a snowy pass.

    At times there was torrential rain, cold, and even snow, and steep slopes and loose rock, and sinking, squishy tundra over which to hike, or tussocks, which felt like hands coming out of the tundra and pulling/tugging your ankles down as you tried to take a hiking step, and there were deep rivers to cross.

    We had to work together, which at times meant working out differences and supporting each other in a wide range of circumstances. We had to pull together in times of hardship to move the group forward. It meant being selfless.

    Each of us was vulnerable during the course, and often, which meant we really got to know each other.

    Working together to set up camp.

    Perhaps course-mate Jon (Rosenfield) said it best, in his informal video interview, which I captured near the course’s end, when he said the Brooks Range experience meant “coming back in contact with myself, because there’s no hiding from all parts of yourself out here.”

    Indeed. Each of us revealed ourselves in The Far North.

    Hiking up a hill toward a mountain pass.

    Through thick and thin, I came to love these people who were on my course.

    The hardest part of the course for me was being away from, (and out of contact with) my three young sons and husband. My Brooks Range comrades – Antonia, Chris, Jon, JJ, Marc, Pat, Cutter, Lauren and Amy – were a wonderful surrogate family for me. They are not merely friends; they’ve made it all the way into my inner circle, which is saying something because before the course, I already had plenty of wonderful people in my life.

    By the end of the trip, I felt right at home. Marc, Chris and Jon, who were part of my cook group, were rolling their eyes at me -- much like my boys do to me at home. 🙂

    A couple of weeks before I departed Wyoming for Alaska, I went to coffee with a friend who is a former NOLS instructor and who has spent time in Alaska’s Brooks Range. She shared her photos and further whetted my appetite for the upcoming adventure. One of the things she told me, that struck me, was that the experience would change me, and that one thing I may notice upon my return will be I will have changed, but the world and people around me won’t have changed.

    Sure, I changed as a result of experiencing, so intimately, Alaska’s stunning Arctic National Wildlife Refuge and Brooks Range.

    But the biggest change in me was brought about by my course-mates. Because they were/are so different from me, I learned much from them, while discovering new things about myself. And in the process, we shared what was for me an unforgettable, experience of a lifetime.

    The best way I can describe the way these special people changed me is to say I am better because of them.

    My Brooks Range people, on top of our last pass, toward the end of our course.

    Antonia, Chris, Jon, “JJ”, Marc, Pat, Cutter, Lauren and Amy: Thank you from the bottom of my heart!

    I would love to introduce you to them here:

    Antonia Ruppel (or “Toni”), 32, is a native German, with a B.A., Masters and Ph.D. from Cambridge University, is a Senior Lecturer in Classics, teaching Greek, Latin and Sanskrit at Cornell University. Antonia speaks beautiful, “proper” English. I could listen to her for hours if afforded the privilege.

    Antonia Ruppel.

    I loved having her as a tent-mate. She is the wittiest person I have ever met, and is fascinating to converse with, what with her wealth of knowledge and what is a wide range of interests. Except for our two female instructors, Antonia and I were the only women on the course. As hopefully women readers will appreciate, we girls like our girlfriends for particular types of conversations. It was a treat to retreat to the tent each night and have important – and rich – conversations with Antonia. I would share some of them but then I’d have to kill you. Yes, the conversations were that great. I have never met anyone like Antonia. She is that much of a treat. She is brilliant, charming, and I have to say it again, fantastically funny. I also loved her enthusiasm for hunting down wild blueberries, and her skills at finding (usually several) antlers on every single hike. We will remain friends forever, and I consider myself lucky as a result. 🙂

    Chris Scovil, 28, is a Tax Manager at Deloitte Tax LLP, in Chicago, IL. At 6’9”, Chris was “the tall man” on the course. He is a triathlete, has an appreciation for fine food, and his passions include international relations, cooking, thoughtful conversation and the outdoors.

    Chris Scovil.

    Chris’s courage on loose, exposed terrain, despite his discomfort, was an inspiration to me during the course. I was fortunate to be in Chris’ cook group, and on many days, in his hiking group, and can fondly recall many meaningful conversations we shared. Chris was often the first to start doing the “common work” that had to be done every morning and evening, even as all of us were getting soaked in a downpour. He placed a great deal of respect on goals and schedules, which I really appreciated during our course, and in my life, in general. One other thing about Chris is that he has a big vocabulary. Prior to this course I was proud of the extent of my vocabulary, but on a few occasions Chris used words I didn’t know the meaning for. A word lover, I found these instances exciting. 🙂 I would be on Chris’s team any day. He is not only really smart and driven, but also courageous, loyal and generous.

    Jon Rosenfield, 42, is a Ph.D. conservation biologist for the Bay Institute in the San Francisco area. This was his fifth NOLS adventure, which to me, meant he is an expert at all things NOLS. He took me under his wing and taught me how to master the camp stove and the spice kit.

    Jon Rosenfield.

    He helped me turn unspectacular entrées into spectacular entrées, such as the apricot, cashew and sunflower nut quinoa meal I made for our cook group the night before an arduous hike over a big mountain pass. Jon is engaging and smart and funny. He had many of us in stitches for long periods of time. We had many great conversations “in the kitchen” and while sharing caffeinated mud from his coffee press. Due to his many NOLS experiences and his unending good nature, it really was a gift to be on the course with him. By the end of our trip I felt like I had known Jon for most of my life. He was probably the first of my course-mates to make it into my inner circle. Which is really saying something. 🙂

    Marc Morisset, 31, was born in Belgium, Brussels, but now lives in Paris, France, where he is an international sales manager. Marc is well-traveled (he has traveled to 50 countries), and after our initial conversation, I sensed he was hungry for an outdoor experience and a physical challenge.

    Marc Morisset.

    Throughout the course, I admired Marc’s quiet leadership, especially the way he would step up and lead, with conviction, when he was asked to be “on point.” I remember the day our group was crossing the Continental Divide, and Marc was asked to take point on what was a very steep, loose slope of rock sliding on top of more sliding rock. He rose to the occasion and did a phenomenal job of route finding. As someone who asks a lot of questions, I appreciated Marc’s own questions of others in his desire to learn. He was there to be challenged, and to learn, and he applied himself to the course, and to our mission, to the full extent. When I first met him my impression was that he was a very serious man, which certainly I think he is, but I also got to see a very fun, and funny side of him when we taught him how to play gin rummy, and during his telling a story about his role in playing high stakes poker. I am glad that I met Marc, and that he is among my friends.

    Cutter Williams turned 27 during our course, and is from Portland, OR. He is a writer, who works as a barista at a popular coffee house. When he’s not a barista, he is working toward publishing a magazine called Cavalcade Literary Magazine. I found Cutter and I to be kindred spirits in that we both would like to, well, just walk, preferably forever, even it’s all uphill.

    Cutter Williams.

    Introspective, Cutter was often laying in the tundra reading a novel or writing in his journal along a babbling brook. I envy Cutter’s ability to “chill.” I have three unforgettable memories that occurred on the course involving Cutter: an air ping pong game on his birthday that we played until we realized we didn’t have anyone willing to chase the ball for us, skipping rocks across the Chandalar River, and also his finishing my “Yeehaw” bear calls with his signature finish. Watch for his name in future literary works. I have a hunch that great literary things are in store for Cutter. I also hope to take him “walking” in my back yard, the Wind River Mountains, one day. I think he’d love ‘em.

    Pat Kirby, 25, is an investigator for The Public Defender Service for the District of Columbia, in Washington, D. C. Two things I’m absolutely certain of after having spent time with Pat is that he is an extraordinary friend to his friends, and that his employer is lucky to have him on board. He very evidently cherishes his friends. This was obvious when he referred to them in conversation.

    Pat Kirby.

    It is obvious to all around Pat that he is a man of honor and integrity, which must serve him well in his work, which he loves, including the responsibility that comes with it. Pat is a natural team player. I witnessed him many times winning consensus while leading or being on point during a hike, or even during tasks at our camp. He is a good initiator, but is also an active follower. It is evident that in all areas of his life, he is a contributor. He is someone I’d want on my team, and I would be honored to be on his. He is sometimes quiet, and so it’s an exceptional treat when he finds something really funny because his laugh is quite boisterous, and when he gets going, it’s contagious. I imagine those closest to him get to hear that a lot, and I envy them for that. 🙂

    John Jostrand, or “JJ,” is 57, and is a partner in an investment management and banking firm in Chicago, IL. John is married and has two grown sons. I connected with JJ for many reasons, but initially because we are both spouses and parents and had those things in common. He was also the oldest (yet as fit as a 25-year-old) on the course, so I, the second-to-oldest, looked to him for his wisdom on all kinds of fronts. JJ (very obviously) is an effective leader.

    John (JJ) Jostrand.

    He is enthusiastic, warm and engaging. His love for the outdoors and physical challenge was evident throughout our course. Others gravitate toward him. I was fortunate to be in JJ’s hiking group often, but a few of the experiences with JJ that I’ll never forget include the time we had a “Vista Data” break and he discovered a location at which an unfortunate dall sheep met its end. It was quite a find! JJ was also along when we “went swimming” in the Brooks Range, and again during our “rock sledding” adventure. JJ had many notable bear calls, but “Booyah!” was his signature call and I will think of him now whenever I hear that word. He also had a stash of Brazil nuts that he shared with me throughout the course. JJ is a kindred spirit. I admire him and am better for having met him.

    (Instructor) Lauren Rocco, 25, is in her second year as a NOLS field instructor and recently relocated to Palmer, AK. She graduated from Dartmouth College in 2008 with a degree in Government and an interest in Computer Science. Upon graduating, she caught what she calls a “travel-exploratory bug,” and wanted to travel and learn more. In 2008-09 and 2009-10, she went to Antarctica to shovel snow and work in the carpentry shop.

    Lauren Rocco.

    Most recently she was a teacher at a charter school in Boston, MA. Lauren is currently enrolled in an EMT course and in addition to leading NOLS courses, she would like to volunteer for the local Search and Rescue. Lauren told me that she finds instructing for NOLS is meaningful, impactful, challenging, and “it obliges everyone involved to become better human beings.” When she’s not leading a NOLS course, she’s likely learning something, constructing something, reading, cooking, programming, or going for walks and exploring. I found Lauren to be a most effective leader, engaging and sensitive to both the environment and those around her. Her love of learning and her genuine interest in others was demonstrated throughout our course. She often read poetry to us during our evening meeting. In addition to being a great leader, Lauren is a lot of fun to be around. I went swimming, “rock sledding” and played “Ninja” in the Brooks Range – all of which happened when I was in the company of Lauren.

    (Instructor) Amy Davidson, 36, is a NOLS field instructor and program supervisor. She graduated from the University of California at Berkeley with a major in Linguistics and a minor in Education. She took her NOLS Instructor course in May 1999 and worked her first course that summer. Subsequently she worked one summer course per year while working in San Francisco as a creative services consultant to the advertising industry.

    Amy Davidson.

    In the past two years, Amy has been a full-time NOLS employee, working in Alaska during the boreal Summer and in New Zealand during the balance of the year. Amy is smart and very funny. Her style is directive and yet engaging. As someone who wants to be a leader but can use more directive, I learned a lot on the course by watching Amy’s leadership style. She was well liked – loved – and yet has a knack for being directive and decisive. In being that way, Amy really enables her students to become more than what they otherwise would become as leaders in the outdoors. Amy is a high level leader who instills confidence in those she leads by challenging them to not be afraid to try, and even fail, and to embrace doing so in the pursuit of learning. I really enjoyed having Amy as one of our instructors and she is a great model for me.

    Thanks for reading! Please check back soon for more blogging about my Brooks Range experience.

    FOR MORE PHOTOS, AND VIDEOS:

    Videos

    Photos – part 1 of 2

    Photos – part 2 of 2

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    The National Outdoor Leadership School is the world’s premier teacher of outdoor skills and leadership. Consider enrolling in a NOLS course. There are many to choose from, throughout the world. Or, request a catalog that provides in-depth course information.

    Cyclone Pass “Prize” Makes Shoshone Lake Hike (Grunt) Worthwhile

    by

    On Cyclone Pass July 8.

    Shoshone Lake is a big lake that is in my backyard. Tucked in the foothills of Wyoming’s southern Wind River Range, the lake is situated at about 10,000′, and in the Shoshone National Forest.

    My husband, Jerry, a friend, Kathy Swanson, of Casper, WY, and I hiked to Shoshone Lake and beyond on July 8. The route we hiked follows some trail, but mostly two-track/ATV road. As a result, many hikers do not hike to Shoshone Lake. Pity!

    Kathy and I, with the Popo Agie Falls in the background. This is about 3 miles into the hike, on the Middle Fork Trail.

    I hike to Shoshone Lake 2-3 times a year if possible. In my humble opinion, it’s the hardest (best training) marathon hike near my town of Lander, WY, and it provides one of the best views of my backyard.

    Kathy, and my husband, Jerry, in Shoshone Basin.
    Kathy, cruising on one of the hike's only level sections, alongside Shoshone Lake.

    The “prize” — the reason we go to such great lengths on this hike — is Cyclone Pass. The top of Cyclone Pass provides one of, if not the, most glorious views of the southern Wind River Range. While one could do this as an out-and-back hike, or ride a jeep or  an ATV to Cyclone Pass and Shoshone Lake, we typically choose to hike a point-to-point route.

    Kathy and I, midway up Cyclone Pass. It's a grunt!
    Almost to the top of Cyclone Pass.

    Our hike started at Bruce’s Bridge, about nine miles southwest of Lander. From there, we hiked seven miles on the Middle Fork Trail, to a junction that took us uphill, on a grunt, for three miles, before joining the Shoshone Lake Trail at 10 miles. From there, we hiked briefly through the forest before it opened up into the vast — and lush — Shoshone Basin. After hiking through the basin, we arrived at Shoshone Lake, which marked a little over 13 miles.

    My husband, Jerry, checking out the views from top of Cyclone Pass.
    Jerry and Kathy, taking in the views, and I'm guessing, voicing their relief that Cyclone Pass is behind them.

    From there, it’s a mostly-level trail alongside the lake’s shore for a little over two miles. Next up is Cyclone Pass. And there are no two ways about it. Ascending Cyclone Pass is a grunt. It’s pretty much straight up over all kinds of rock scatter, and on July 8, some running water. The ascent of Cyclone Pass is about 1.5 miles and 650 vertical feet. Because it comes at a point when you have about 15 miles of mostly uphill miles on your legs, it’s a real “character-builder.”

    Group timer shot.

    No matter. Going uphill is not an unreasonable cost, given the prize at the top. You can hopefully see in the photos here of Cyclone Pass and get the picture. 🙂

    After an extended break at top of Cyclone while taking in the awesome views, we then started our descent toward Baldwin Creek.

    Kathy, on the dreaded Chute.
    Jerry, on The Chute, which was more like a creek.

    Despite the fact it’s all downhill from Cyclone Pass, arguably the toughest part of the day is what’s next, a 2-mile section known as The Chute. This is basically a dried-up creek bed. Some areas are nothing but rock on rock. For our hike there was a actually a stream running down much of the middle of the The Chute. It’s hard on the legs. It is sustained and unrelenting downhill on nothing but rocks on rocks. Let’s just call it what it is: another character-builder.

    Following The Chute, we hike by Suicide Point, a great feature that is aptly named. From there it’s just downhill, downhill and downhill, and more rocks and rocks and rocks. To be sure, the descent, even beyond The Chute, is a very rocky one.

    Kathy, in bottom right, descending last few miles of our hike.
    Almost to The End of our hike.

    My dad was to pick us up at the parking lot above the Shoshone Lake Switchbacks, off Baldwin Creek Road at 3 pm, but he was delayed in receiving our Spot Messenger text regarding our ETA, so we ended up descending a few of the switchbacks. (By then, in dire straits, I took a small bite of a snake on that portion. It’s my dad’s fault?) All told, we hiked about 25 miles, including 4,300′ of elevation gain.

    I ate a snake. Or not. You decide.

    It was an epic day. I would even go so far as to say it was stellar. It had all the important features: camaraderie, stunning views, character-building, and a reat health benefit to boot.

    Beers All Around!

    Here is a very short video from Cyclone Pass: