Step One: Start Writing

Over the past few weeks I’ve been thinking more and more about writing a book and what I would want to accomplish with it, as well as how I would want to organize it.  I don’t plan on publishing a book any time soon, but I think there’s no time like the present to start one.  So, I’ve done it.  I sat down and typed out a purpose and direction I want my book to have, I have a rough timeline and a list of  different happenings, adventures, and stories that I want to include.  I plan on holding nothing back, elaborating on my family life, my unorthodox childhood, my relationships, and most of all the adventures life has taken me on and the ones I will continue to embark on.  I hope that I can show at least one person sitting at home wishing they had a more adventurous life that I’m your average person and that everyone can create their own story. So here it is, the very first two teaser paragraphs I will not post anything else directly from the book for probably years.  Hopefully someone reading this will buy a copy!


In October of 2005, I flew to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania for a short visit with my dad and step mom. My dad was stationed at Carlisle Barracks for a year to graduate War College, an endeavor that would ultimately lead to his rank of Colonel in the United States Army; and solidify his nickname throughout the rest of this book.  I had spent my whole life to date a hiker, a hunter, a fisherman, a kayaker, a mountain biker, a BMX biker, a soccer player, an avid skier; but never had anything gripped me enough to have my undivided attention. My dad, a lifelong outdoor enthusiast, enticed me into a short hike to a craggy overlook known as Pole Steeple Point. Pole Steeple is a small cliff band overlooking Laurel Lake nestled in the deep valley below.

I was a curious teenager, having always been interested in climbing trees, and exploring in general; the scramble style climbing struck a chord in me immediately. My parents instinctively chose the easiest path of ascent via a trail around the right side, and I, almost as instinctively, began climbing up a portion of the face. Looking down at my parents I began to feel afraid that I had gone so high, but I had reached the point in the face where it seemed easier to go up rather than down. I topped out, 60 feet above the deck on my first ever, true rock climb. A layman, I had no idea I had just soloed a 5th class climb.  My direction in life took a drastic turn that day.  During the ensuing nine years climbing will grow to consume every thought in my head, and swiftly become the reason I do, well, anything.