Katahdin to the Kennebec

Come to the woods, for here is rest. There is no repose like that of the green deep woods. Here grow the wallflower and the violet. The squirrel will come and sit upon your knee, the logcock will wake you in the morning. Sleep in forgetfulness of all ill. Of all the upness accessible to mortals, there is no upness comparable to the mountains. 
- John Muir

This recent journey to Maine was bittersweet and beautiful.  Breathtaking and brutal.

I hiked from Mount Katahdin to the Kennebec River, about 150 miles south.  The first few days were absolutely perfect hiking weather days.  Then it rained pretty consistently the rest of the time, creating some pretty hazardous water crossings.  Streams and brooks that would normally be ankle deep or passable by rock hopping were now waist deep or higher with body slamming currents.  The Trail itself was transformed into a meandering waterway with waterfalls in the steep sections and pools of standing water in the level areas.  Everything became wet.

The temperature never dipped below freezing while I was out there, but it never really warmed up once the rain came.  Cold hands and cold feet through and through.

I enjoy the challenges that come with backpacking, and the rewards of the natural world continue to be awe-inspiring.  It was rejuvenating to be back out there even for a short time. 

Come to the woods, for here is rest.

Blood and Rain

The blood trickles down my leg, mixes with the rain, and seeps into my dirty sock.

I pause and reflect for a moment. This is the 100 Mile Wilderness.

This is Maine. 

This is the AT. 

Challenging but fulfilling.

Beautiful but brutal. 

Blood from the fall but rain to wash it away. 

ROMO 2014

Another season at Rocky Mountain National Park.

I cannot believe how quickly it went by!  May through September felt like five days rather than five months.  We'll see what the next five months have in store for us.

Thanks to everyone for all the fun and adventure that we shared.  And to Aaron and Ben who were present during my two separate concussions.

Soukkala Life circa 1950

The past few months I've been in the process of transferring all of our family's old home movies to digital format.  It's been such a trip seeing all of this old footage of special occasions and daily life.  I'm so thankful (so, so thankful) for all the footage my parents took just of our daily life.  I find it absolutely fascinating and precious.

The other night I was reviewing some older footage (from my grandparents) while listening to music, and a particular piece of music came on that just seemed to fit so perfectly with what I was watching.  I had to share my experience with you guys.  The following is a snippet of Soukkala (my mom's family) life circa 1950 in Warrenton, Oregon.  There is so much more awesome footage, but I just added the music to this particular clip and left all the original editing alone.

White Russians & Golden Aspens

Really had a great time with my Mom & Dad last week.

Monday night bowling.
Dark beer.
Onion rings.
Coffee.
Golden aspens.
Frigid alpine water.
Red wine.
Coffee.
Bugling elk.
Pink sunsets.
Kind Coffee breakfast.
Trail Ridge Road.
Alpine tundra.
Sprinting moose.
Coffee.
Waterfalls.
Ice cream.
White Russians while looking for moose.
Movie night with Chinese food.

I'd call it an awesome trip.

Sky Pond with the Friddles

"What?!" I shout over the howling wind.
"I said, this is the most adventurous thing I've ever done!" Micah repeats as he clings to the edge of Timberline Falls, wind and rain pounding our faces.  Sarah's poncho flaps uncontrollably as she descends the precarious cliff, step by careful step.
"Awesome!"  I shout back.

Music to my ears.

I'm so happy my sister (Sarah) and brother-in-law (Micah) were able to make it out to Colorado for a few days of adventure in Rocky Mountain National Park.  It was so much fun hanging out with them.  I'm glad they were able experience a slice of the Rocky Mountains.

By the time we made it back to the trailhead, we were all soaked to the bone.  It was definitely time for a hot meal and a cold brew.

Flattop

The stars are the only light as I pull into the Bear Lake parking lot.

I click on my headlamp.

Hiking past the eerily quiet black water of Bear Lake, I begin my ascent to Flattop Mountain.

The rocks and dirt and twigs feel welcome beneath my boots.

A faint orange light begins to appear through the trees on the horizon.

The stars begin to fade away.

I stop for coffee at treeline just as the orange fireball bursts over the horizon.

The squirks of a thousand pikas fight to be heard over the howling wind.

I climb higher into the alpine tundra.

A lone bull elk watches me from afar and trots down the mountainside.

The wind tries to push me over as I approach the top.

There is no other sound but the howling in my ears.

Alone on Flattop with the howling wind.

I pause.

And join in the howling before retreating back down the mountain.

Uncle Wes

As I type this, I’m flying high above the mountains and clouds with a deep blue sky and brilliant sun.  Back to Denver after an unexpected trip to the Pacific Northwest.

Being back in Oregon for my uncle’s funeral was extremely bittersweet.  I have so many happy memories from our annual family vacations growing up.  The last time I visited was in 2011, and it was so happy.  The most recent of a long list of wonderful trips out West.  It helps to have these happy memories during difficult times.

I did not imagine the next time I’d be in Oregon would be for a funeral.  When I heard the news of my uncle’s passing, I was in shock like the rest of us.  It was unexpected and difficult to accept.  It still is.  And will be.  I knew I wanted to be there with the rest of my family.  To comfort and to receive comfort.  It was great seeing all of them again.

My uncle was a huge part of my life even though he lived thousands of miles away.  His overflowing generosity and loving encouragement were and still are an inspiration to me on how I should live my life and treat others.

We said goodbye, and his legacy lives on, and I’m so thankful for the memories I have with him.  And for his encouraging words over the years.

Below is a comment he left on my blog shortly after my visit in 2011 and just before I began my career with the National Park Service.  I can’t read it without crying.

***

July 17, 2011
Micah...

I had no idea, well some maybe... that you were so John Muir like. No wonder you felt cheated when I reduced your "Fort to Sea" trek by half a mile by dropping you and your family off on the trail at a spot that mostly just us locals know about without reading a brochure.

Ken Burns perhaps is right. The NPS could be "America's Best Idea." You'll fit right in with their purpose. God's greatest handiwork is in such areas and dedicated people such as you need to keep them secure.

Your Mom told me of your blog spot here. I'll check in from time to time and see what you have posted.

God's blessings on all your adventures.

Uncle Wes*

***

Obituary: Wesley Soukkala

Blood and Sand

"Remember, pain is temporary, film is forever."
- Peter Jackson

I'm so thankful my mom and dad got to come out and visit and hike around for a few days with me.  It was an exhilarating and challenging trip up to Thunder Lake, and I'm still madly impressed by my parents for doing such a great job coming straight from Georgia elevation and hiking up to over 10,000 feet.

My brother came on his own about a week later, and what an adventure that was!  I love my little brother, and I always have the best time with him.  I'm also glad we didn't die.

Below are the two videos documenting each adventure.  See if you can notice a difference in the level of danger between the two...





I'm also really looking forward to having my BEST FRAND come visit next week, followed by my seester and brother-in-law in September.

Adventure is out there!

Sandbeach

Craving the woods.
Craving rocks and roots and dirt beneath my boots.
Craving the soft stillness of the midnight forest.
The smell of my pack like sweet perfume.
The sound of my trekking poles clicking and clacking against earth.
The sensation of crisp mountain air against my bare skin.
The sun rests behind the peaks, and as I crawl into my musty tent...
I am at peace.

Liebster Award

The Liebster Award is a Blogstöcken (Blogstöcken translated means Blog Stick, apparently).  This award has been around for nearly a decade, and the idea is to tag bloggers to learn more about them and their blogs.  I was tagged by Hiking Forward... check out his blog! 

Here are the rules:

1. Link the Person who “tagged” you.
2. Answer the 11 questions that the person has asked you.
3. Look for 11 Bloggers and nominate them.
4. Come up with your own 11 question for your 11 nominees.

Yeah... I'm lazy.  But I will at least answer the questions Hiking Forward posed for his nominees.  I'm honored to have been thought of!

1.  What do you consider your first outdoor experience?
I can't really pinpoint a first experience, but I credit my love for the outdoors to my parents.  Summer vacations with my mom's side of the family on the Oregon coast, and my dad, especially, would take us hiking and camping in our local Georgia State Parks growing up.  I may not have always appreciated the "long" 1-mile hikes we would take, but I believe those outings in Georgia and Oregon ingrained a passion for Nature within my soul.

2.  When out on a multi-day excursion, what is the one thing you dream about doing or having when returning home?
Chinese food and Diet Dr. Pepper.  Always.

3.  What long trail do you want to complete or complete again and why?
Next on my list is probably the PCT, though I also want to finish my SOBO trek of the AT so that I can have both directions under my belt.  Long distance hiking can be incredibly addictive.

4.  Trailname?  And how did you get it?
ManCub.  I chose it a few months before my 2012 thru-hike because I didn't want to get stuck with something I didn't like.  I wanted something "earthy-sounding" while also representing myself.  I often (and by often, I mean always) am told I look younger than I am, so I think ManCub fits.  I also love The Jungle Book... Mowgli was raised by mother effin' wolves.

5.  What do you want to do when you retire?
As long as I'm doing what I love, I'll be happy.

6.  Last outing, where, when, etc...?
Well, today I hiked up to Emerald Lake in Rocky Mountain National Park.  My last "big" outing was hiking 1,000 miles on the Long Trail and Appalachian Trail over the winter.  That was cold.

7.  Favorite backpacking meal?
I still have not gotten sick of instant couscous.  It's my go-to meal in the backcountry.  Add some packaged chicken to the Mediterranean flavor couscous, and it's practically gourmet.  Also, Snickers and Reese's.

8.  Favorite memory on trail or camping?
I could give several for this one, but I'll keep it to one... Being on top of Mt. Madison in the White Mountains and watching the clouds crash over us at sunset.  Honestly, thinking about that brings tears to my eyes.

9.  Goal for the year?
Haha, again, I could list several, but one of mine for this year is to learn how to play my banjo.

10.  Have you ever been tweeted to or RT'ed by a celebrity?  Who?
Not really, but Nick Kroll favorited one of my tweets a few months ago.

11.  Favorite National Park and why?
I'm kind of biased right now since I currently work at Rocky Mountain National Park, but besides RMNP... Great Smoky Mountains National Park holds a special place in my heart.

Again, thanks to @HikingForward for tagging me.  This was fun!  Happy hiking, everyone.

Great Smoky Mountains National Park, 2010

Return to Rocky

It feels great to be back at Rocky Mountain National Park.

I arrived just in time for a little snow storm to sweep across the area.  Even after all the snow I received on the AT this winter, it was still exciting to see.  We got over a foot of fresh snow at my house... truly a beautiful scene.  The few days I've been back, there have been deer, elk, and moose hanging out in my backyard.  Watching them from a cozy interior makes for delightful entertainment.

Driving out here from Georgia, I decided to go out of my way a little and see South Dakota and the National Parks along the way (Badlands, Mount Rushmore, Jewel Cave, and Wind Cave).  I loved the drive, and I loved the parks I stopped in, but the thing that made the trip completely worthwhile and incredible for me was seeing the bison.

I had never seen them in the wild before, so when I glimpsed them way off in the distance as little specks on the Badlands horizon, I immediately jumped out of my car and started snapping a series of blurry photos.  Little did I know that I would soon become the bison paparazzi for the next few days.  THEY WERE EVERYWHERE.

I arrived in the Badlands campground, and there was a herd of them grazing among the tents and car campers.  I couldn't believe it.  These massive North American beasts were just a stone's throw away from where I was distractingly setting up my tent.

I finally crawled into my tent with a fresh cup of coffee and watched the sunset.  The bison continued to graze nearby, and as the clouds danced over the grassy hills, a chorus of coyotes struck up an ancient song.  I was mesmerized.

Moments such as this demonstrate the importance and magic of our National Parks.  I remember seeing my first bear in Great Smoky Mountains National Park.  I can recall rounding that corner in Arches National Park and being dumbfounded by Delicate Arch standing defiantly before me.  My jaw dropping above the infinite Grand Canyon of Arizona, and seeing my first herd of bighorn sheep in the Rocky Mountain wilderness.

A fresh wave of excitement and pride washed over me knowing what I was returning to.

I'll rise when the rooster crows

Last week, my father and I returned to the Cohutta Wilderness in North Georgia for our traditional father/son(s) camping trip.

Wilderness always offers an escape for both of us.

The highlight for me was whenever we were just sitting around the fire.  Smoke rising into the air with golden sunlight piercing through the trees, we both reclined on our rock seats and meditated.  Meditation through conversation... reading... journaling... staring.  Staring into the fire.  Through the trees.  At the great sky above us.

QC-VA montage

I truly want to express my gratitude to each and every person who helped, encouraged, and prayed for me while I was on this journey.  I could not have gotten as far as I did by myself.  From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

The two songs I chose for this montage carry a lot of meaning for me and my life right now.  I think that if you are able to pay attention to the lyrics, as well as the visuals, it will enhance your viewing experience.

Quebec - Virginia in photos

Hey folks!

Here is a link to the photo album I posted on Facebook.  I'll have a montage coming over the next week or so, so keep your eyes open for that.  Cheers!

Returning home

"Well, yes, ma'am, I do... I mean, I got everything I need right here with me. I got air in my lungs, a few blank sheets of paper. I mean, I love waking up in the morning not knowing what's gonna happen or, who I'm gonna meet, where I'm gonna wind up. Just the other night I was sleeping under a bridge and now here I am on the grandest ship in the world having champagne with you fine people. I figure life's a gift and I don't intend on wasting it. You don't know what hand you're gonna get dealt next. You learn to take life as it comes at you... to make each day count." 
- Jack Dawson, Titanic



My last two days on the AT were not my favorite days of this journey.

In fact, the last week was downright miserable and mentally draining.  I found myself in another Shenandoah-esque situation of being trapped in knee deep snow moving in exhausting slow motion.  The week previous I had traveled about 100 miles in six days, whereas, now I had spent six days and traveled 18 miles.

For the first time I was realizing that I was running out of time, money, and motivation.  My health and sanity were also becoming increasing concerns... frostbite being at the forefront of my mind.  Was it worth continuing this journey with health and safety being at risk?  Disappointed (and I mean, highly disappointed and disheartened), I was seriously starting to think that getting off trail was a wiser decision.  And after a demanding last day of hiking to the next road, I stuck out my thumb and hitched a ride back to Waynesboro.

It was not the original plan, but life often veers away from "original plans," and for better or worse, you take a deep breath and try to keep moving forward.  As I sat in Waynesboro weighing my options for returning to Atlanta, I tried to look on the bright side of the situation.  It wasn't the end of the world.  I had hiked over 1,000 miles across eight states from Quebec to Virginia, and the Trail wasn't going anywhere.  I have thru-hiked the AT once before, and even though this was intended to be a thru-hike, there's no shame in a section hike.  I will pick up where I left off next time with renewed vigor, more time, and a slightly more padded bank account.

Plus, now I will have some extra time to spend with my family before heading back to Colorado.  My sister's getting married at the end of March, and my brother is graduating from college in the beginning of May.  It will be great to really celebrate these events rather than flying/driving in at the last minute to make a ceremony.  Everything was going to be OK.

Now I needed to figure out a way to get from Waynesboro to Atlanta.  This is when my buddy, Zach, an old friend of mine, came to the rescue.  Zach and I were in the same kindergarten class and had gone through school together until college.  He currently lives in Roanoke and was incredibly heading to Atlanta for a few days.  I couldn't believe it when he offered to give me a ride in exchange for watching their new puppy for a day.  Um, heck yes.

I wanted to surprise my mom and dad with my homecoming since they were not expecting to see me until the end of March for my sister's wedding. I didn't get home until late in the night after everyone had gone to sleep, so I slept in my dad's van and woke early the next morning to surprise him on his way out.  The reaction was exactly what I was hoping for...



And so now, I'm home.  My Quebec to Georgia thru-hike was cut in half, but I will always have more white blazes to look forward to in the future.  Life continues on.  One day, one step at a time.  The journey never really ends, anyways.

The Starbucks crew gave me a free drink when they heard about my hike.

The magical star watching over Roanoke.

Finley, the puppy!

Drinking a beer in my parents' kitchen while they have no idea I'm home.

Bro and Sis!  And Abbey.

Fireside chat.

Escape from Shenandoah

It is God who arms me with strength and keeps my way secure. He makes my feet like the feet of a deer; he causes me to stand on the heights. 

- Psalm 18:32-33

I click fresh batteries into my headlamp as daylight fades away, trying not to be discouraged by the distance still ahead. The snow swirls around me as I don my pack and take a deep breath of the frigid air. Exhale. 

The next 24 hours will come to be the most exhausting and physically demanding I have ever faced. 

In this post, I don't want to come across as being over dramatic, so here's the thing... I don't believe I was at any time in grave danger. However, I do believe that during this particular timeframe of 24 hours, I was at a greater risk of becoming in grave danger than on most other days.

In a nutshell, here's why:

1. The more snow, the more slow. Which isn't usually a problem if you have plenty of food. Once again, however... 

2. No food + Type 1 diabetic = bad. This also isn't typically a problem when snow isn't involved and roads are open. Why, simply go get more food! But...

3. Roads are closed. Buildings in the park are shut down for winter. AND MY CELL PHONE IS DEAD. Not because I ran the battery out (I always save some juice for emergencies), but because of the cold. It just decided to stop working at 40% power. 

OK. That's the nutshell. 

Shenandoah National Park is a wonderful, beautiful, fun place to hike. The AT traverses the length of the park from Front Royal in the north to Waynesboro in the south, roughly 100 miles paralleling Skyline Drive throughout. In the summer, there are plenty of hikers, campers, motorists, rangers, ranger stations, visitor centers, waysides and rest stops. In the winter, the park transforms to an eerily breathtaking, post-apocalyptic arctic wasteland. In the six days I was in Shenandoah, I saw one other hiker heading the opposite direction. 

My resupply in Front Royal was heavy. So much food I thought I was going to make the bears unhibernate. And even in spite of the icy and snow-packed trail I was able to make some decent timing the first five days. Before my phone had died, I was able to check the weather, and I saw that a snowstorm was coming for me sometime on the fifth day. Knowing this information, I decided to hike as far as possible on the fifth day so that I would have minimal deep snow hiking on the morning of my exit.

So there I was, night approaching on the fifth day, clicking fresh batteries into my headlamp. The snow was accumulating quickly, and let me just say, I'm just not the biggest fan of night hiking. More than an hour of hiking in pure darkness, and s*** starts to get scary. I swear at one point a freakin' monkey was hopping around in the trees next to me. Not to mention I'm exhausted, and a blustery snow keeps blasting me in the face. 

A little after 9PM I decide to call it a day at 27.5 miles and pitch my tent. The wind is howling, but there are only a couple of inches of snow when I finally close my eyes. Tomorrow, I will have eight miles to hike and just enough food for a filling breakfast. 

I wake up in a coffin. The snow has compressed my tent into a claustrophobic tomb in which I have to literally dig myself out. I crawl into the early morning light and dread sinks in. I'm surrounded by knee deep snow, and it continues to fall. 

After only ten steps I am worn out. Out of breath. Panting. Holy cow, how am I going to hike eight miles in this? It's a pace equivalent to slow motion with an exhaustion level similar to hiking with weights on your feet. Even the downhills are grueling.

I'm out of food (with the exception of some grits and coffee), so I have to make it into town. My pace is extremely disheartening, though. After five hours of hiking, I'm less than half way to the road. 

WHAT?

Less than a mile an hour and completely worn out. I have to rest often but can't really get comfortable due to all the snow. Which, this is probably a good thing because at one point I plop down in the snow to sit for a sec, and all I want to do is close my eyes for a few minutes. 

Wait a second... that's how people freeze to death! They close their eyes for a nap and never wake up again. Holy crap, get up! Get up!

I had been praying throughout the morning for strength and endurance. The prayers continue. Lord, give me strength. Give me endurance. Help me. Protect me. Thank you for getting me this far.

My feet feel like solid blocks of ice. I keep trying to wiggle my toes with each step. 

God, keep me safe. Please help me get out of here without frostbite or injury. 

Step by step. Slow motion. Wind pounding against my face. The time is flying by. The miles are going inch by inch. 

Help me, Father. Give me the strength I need.

The trail descends into a gap, crossing an unrecognizable Skyline Drive covered in snow drifts waist deep. Then I look up ahead of me and see the trail become vertical. 

Are you kidding me?!! One of those little "bumps" that doesn't quite show up on the elevation profile. Ahhhhhhhhhhrgh! I start plowing up the steep incline, a mixture of pleas and curses fumbling off my lips. 

You can do this. It could be worse. Think of the Olympics. The athletes who give it their all for victory. Think of the early expeditions. The explorers who faced much harsher conditions with their lives on the line. For crying out loud, think of the all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet waiting for you in town!

Slowly. So slowly, I trudge on. Five miles down. 

Six miles down.  

Seven down and I've reached the park boundary. My light at the end of the tunnel. It's only one more mile to the road from the boundary. I collapse right in the snow to take a two minute break before taking off again with a surge of adrenaline.

Now I'm thinking about how I'm going to get into town. It's almost four more miles from the trail/road intersection to town, and I'm thinking there might not be much traffic on a day like this.

Finally, after nearly ten hours of hiking through eight miles of snow, I reach the road. And sure enough, not only is there not much traffic, but a section of the road is completely closed and barricaded. Perfect. 

I hear snow plows a little way down and head their way, and to my amazement I see a car with its lights on parked in the midst of the giant machines. I shuffle towards the civilian. 

She rolls down her window and says, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to pull off here, I'm just trying to get home from work and had to make a phone call. You guys are doing a great job!" She starts to drive off, following one of the snow plows that has now freed her from being stuck in the herd of them. 

As her window starts to go up I barely get the words out in time, "Oh, I'm not a worker! I'm actually a hiker! Do you think you'd be able to give me a ride into town?" 

She looks at me for a second. Quickly examining my extremely disheveled and desperate disposition. "OK, hop in. You're not a crazy person, are you?"

"Ha! I assure you, I am not." (At least not in the sense you mean. Only a crazy person would be hiking in this.)

The roads were bad. Even with the plowing, the snow was still coming down hard. But I was so thankful and happy just to be in a heated car. Heading towards civilization. With a person. Man... God is good. 

I tell the good samaritan she can drop me off anywhere that's convenient for her, and we head towards the only restaurant that's open, WAFFLE HOUSE. Oh my gosh, yes. It's not all-you-can-eat but probably the next best thing. 

I thank my ride profusely and say goodbye. The feeling of being back to safety and comfort is indescribable, especially with a huge plate of hot food set before you.

I've gotta say, it was a pretty gnarly 24 hours... this narrow escape from Shenandoah. Thank you to everyone who continues to pray for me and encourage me daily on this journey. It means the world. 

I'm so thankful for God's protection everyday, even when things seems to be running perfectly smooth. This was just an epic reminder.