Christmas

All my aunties!!

Crafts

Here is your picture Matthew Allen!!

The cuties nephews ever

These are my two favorites pictures of me and dad when I was little. They weren't during Christmas time, but I just love them.


Christmas is bittersweet this year. The love between family, immediate and extended, feels tighter and stronger than ever, but the void without Dad is so heavy. I flew home the weekend before Christmas to celebrate with family, since I will be working over Christmas. Matt, Jenny, and the boys came over one night and then we spent the weekend with the Hutchinson family (mom’s side).

I kept trying to remember specifics from last year with Dad. Frustratingly, I couldn’t pinpoint much, except one vivid and funny memory.

I was wrapping presents upstairs in my parents room and listening to This American Life. My dad came in the room very excited about the gift he had for my mom. It was a lovely pair of earrings with a matching necklace. He told me what he paid for it and I thought it was ridiculous. I began to scold him for such a purchase. I said such things as: “Dad, you do this every year. Mom is not that into jewelry. And, my heavens, you could feed a hundred children in Africa or give a child health insurance for a year in her name with that much money." (Yes I was completely serious in suggesting that he take it back and feed children in her name.) Dad was not in the least bit phased by my reprimands. He looked at me and said “well, I am giving it to her anyway”.

Now, I am going to pause here and explain that my love language is not gifts and I am cheap. I should also mention that my dad has a history of well meaning, but poor fitting gifts. Mom has always said that after 38 years of marriage he still couldn’t buy anything that fit her. He has also given us a number of pieces of jewelry that never left the box. In his defense, he always gave the best nerf guns Walmart had to offer. Every year dad would buy a LOT of nerf toys. After opening presents we would have a great nerf war, often with a neighbor or cousin joining in. It was amazing. No matter how old we were, and even before the excuse of grandchildren, Dad saw it as his responsibility to provide an array of shooting darts, helicopters, and cars at Christmas.

Upon opening the present, Mom loved it and did a great job swooning over it, giving a number of very convincing oouus and ahhhhs. Dad looked over at me and gave me this smirky look that clearly said “I told you she’d like it and I am getting lucky tonight”. I smiled back at him.

This year, I went into my mom’s jewelry box, found the earrings, and wore them all weekend. I am glad he didn’t listen to me.

Not even a year ago

This past February, just 10 months ago, I met some nice folks in Red Rocks National Park who were working in wilderness therapy. My climbing partner, Derek, and I we were both intrigued, impressed, and envious of their work. Derek asked me something to the extent of “why don’t, or didn't, you do wilderness therapy?” I remember replying with something to the effect of “Sounds awesome, but I am too far into my career path to do anything like that”.

Not even a year later, and here I am in Utah, signed up to work in wilderness therapy.

I had forgotten this encounter until just recently. Reflecting on it makes me wonder what this coming year holds. It took a lot to get me here, to provoke me to make such a move. So much happened in less than a year.


I spent the last five days getting to know the St George area. While geographically it is pretty perfect, it is far from the progressive utopia of my Chapel Hill/Durham/Carrboro home. That said, it has been ridiculously easy to find good people to climb and hang out with.

Below are some pictures from a day of climbing at Zion National Park. A majestic, inspiring, and soothing place. Come visit me and we will go play in it!!!



Sunset at Zion




Yes, this is me leading a 5.8 on gear, with my own gear! (Well, mostly my own gear.)Warren, you will be happy to know that the walnuts are the envy of my new climbing partners!


This is Ryan, my climbing partner the last few days. He is a scrappy fella from New York who will do some damage to any 5.11 finger crack!!

Road trip

We Made It! Mom and I finished up the long drive and moved my few possessions into my new home in St George, UT on Thursday. My momma is a real champ!!!

My first shift starts December 20th, the Christmas shift. Nothing like starting a new job with the holiday spirit!

Here are a few pics from the drive….we should have taken more.





Colorado River in Arizona


Sunset in St. George


Mom's last night before flying back to AL.

A Fall Year's Resolution

Pile o friends!!


Matt, Dad, and Cooper


My dad loved football. It was clearly one of his great, if not greatest, passions. When we first learned of his diagnosis we talked a lot about how we were going to enjoy the fall football season. Matt and dad were going to see the LSU/Ole Miss game, and dad and I were definitely going to catch an Auburn game. We didn’t realize then that Dad would not live to see another football season.

Over the last four or so years, I had dropped out of the football fan scene. I still enjoyed it when it was around, but I didn’t really keep up or seek it out. This year I declared a “fall year’s resolution”. I was going to change this trend; I was going to watch more football, particularly Auburn football.

Considering that I have climbed nearly every weekend this fall, I’d say I’ve done a pretty darn good job. I also picked a heck of a year to watch more Auburn football! On a couple of occassions, I kept my climbing buddies (who have zero interest in football) at Pies and Pints (a pizza joint at the New River Gorge) well past our sleeping bag times after long days of climbing to see the end of games. For my last night in NC, I had a pile of wonderful friends over for the SEC championship game. Since roughly 2% of them have even the slightest interest in the game, I disguised this as a goodbye party as well. Not sure if I convinced any to join the Auburn football family, but we sure had a marvelous time.



I am writing this from a hotel in Okemah, OK. My momma and I just finished the first day of the drive to St. George, UT. Only a momma would drive/ride 30 hours (even on her birthday!), just to turn around and fly back the next day.

Into the wilderness

Despite rumors that I quit my job to be a professional climber, lion tamer, and dirt bag, I am actually moving to Utah to work in wilderness therapy.

“What is wilderness therapy” you may ask. The program with which I will be working is for adolescents and young adults struggling with difficulties such as substance abuse, depression, family conflict, etc. We take these students (those 18 and under) and clients (those 18 and up) 80 miles deep into the Utah desert to do therapy.

“Why am I doing wilderness therapy” you may ask (I still ask myself sometimes)? In a nut shell, because it allows me to do meaningful work with people who have big issues and to take time to climb and be with family. Here is the story with a little more background and detail.

Over the last two years I have lived and worked in Chapel Hill, NC. As my job became increasingly unfulfilling, my obsession with climbing and my love for the outdoors steadily grew. For nearly the last year, I planned to work abroad and I worked really hard to make sure it happened. When the opportunity came to go to India, I was elated. Completely ecstatic. However, two days later my dad was diagnosed with cancer. I declined India, temporarily moved to Alabama, and worked from my parents’ home. My father died six weeks later. I moved back to NC and to a job in which I was still unhappy. For the first time, I did not want to go abroad, but rather I wanted access to family, and more so than exotic locations would allow.

I have thought about wilderness therapy for about a year, but never considered it too long due to my hopes to go abroad. With international options out of the question, wilderness therapy made a good bit of sense. My thinking was: 1.) I could play a major role in the lives of people facing big issues and be a part of real, positive change; 2.) I could live in the West (something I have dreamed of for awhile), and 3.) I could have a lot of time to climb, travel and visit family.

It seems pretty perfect; however, I am still utterly terrified. This decision is stock full of unknowns and cold weather. Two things I really hate. Wilderness therapy is also a very non-linear step professionally for me. Despite that, there is excitement, inner peace, and a general “good feeling” about this move.

The title of this blog “Crooked Trails” is derived from an Edward Abbey quote (below) and my life’s ability to take unexpected twists and turns. I was hesitant to start a blog, but after some nudging from a few of you, I decided it would benefit me. (I also know that at least my mom will read and appreciate it.) I don’t really know what this journey will bring, but I would love to have you all following along!!!

Edward Abbey was a writer, environmental activist, and above all, a lover and defender of the southwest desert. This is his quote that inspired the title of this blog.

" May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds. May your rivers flow without end, meandering through pastoral valleys tinkling with bells, past temples and castles and poets' towers into a dark primeval forest where tigers belch and monkeys howl, through miasmal and mysterious swamps and down into a desert of red rock, blue mesas, domes and pinnacles and grottos of endless stone, and down again into a deep vast ancient unknown chasm where bars of sunlight blaze on profiled cliffs, where deer walk across the white sand beaches, where storms come and go as lightning clangs upon the high crags, where something strange and more beautiful and more full of wonder than your deepest dreams waits for you --- beyond that next turning of the canyon walls."