Confessions of a Shortboarder

I need to get something out in the open. I am nearly 42 years old and I snow blade. I can't help myself. Let me explain.

Quite simply, I love to ski. I've tried snowboarding, but I simply found it was way too much work. Skiing can be plenty of work when the snow is deep, but it is FAR less demanding than riding a mini surfboard on snow. I gave snowboarding an honest shot a few years ago. I'm not an old dog, but I was not ready for a new trick. Skiing is more natural and more fun. Ultimately, fun is one of the main reasons I ski. Hopefully, this post will help you understand the other reasons why I ski.

I played hockey all of my life and have skied for half of my life. As a kid, I got the chance to cross-country ski, but never strapped on downhill skis until much later in life. One of my wife's greatest contributions to who I am was introducing me to the absolute joy of spending the day at a ski hill.

Our first trip was to Jasper's Marmot Basin and it remains one of my favourite holidays ever. I borrowed skis for this trip and I skied like a hockey player. Legs shoulder width apart, knees bent, elbows up. It didn't take me long to notice that the people in the fancy SunIce jackets and stretchy pants didn't ski like me. They actually turned around their poles. Their knees seemed glued together, even when they were mashing through moguls. I didn't let my lack of ski style get in the way of having fun. I found out very early that when I ski, I like to ski fast. Really fast. On the verge of catching an edge, yard sale, Todd Brooker cartwheeling to a lacerated rectum fast. I may not have looked great, but so long as the slope was wide open, I loved to reel off big, wide, ski chattering Super GS turns.

The first pair of skis I owned were a beautiful, brand new pair of K2's. They were bright white with early 90's neon accents. They were gorgeous and I felt like a rock star when I wore them to the ski hill. I was dejected when they got stolen from our local ski area when I was supervising our school's ski club, but my replacements were equally amazing. Salomon Evolution 9000 - over 200 cm of rocketship skis that were incredibly stable at high speeds. Again , when i strapped these boards on, my ski esteem went up immeasurably. Sadly, these skis also had a shorter than expected life. A rocky run at Fernie blew up one of my boards and the cost of the repair would have been the same as a new pair.

Even though I had cutting edge gear, it was the simple act of heading to the hill that consolidated how much I loved skiing. As a beginning teacher, I got to supervise our weekly ski club, which meant a dozen evenings at our local hill, plus multiple adventures with my colleagues. I can honestly say that it was our trips to Canyon and points unknown that helped make my first years of teaching so enjoyable.

For a year after I blew up my Salomons, I rented and borrowed. With my wife on maternity leave, a young family and limited opportunity to hit the slopes, I was content with this arrangement. During this time, a buddy let me borrow his snow blades and my ski life changed. With these mini skis, the hill opened up for me. I could pop through bumps, weave through trees and glide through deep powder. My legs stayed glued together and I could still fly down the hill when I needed to. When a fellow teacher won a brand new pair of Salomon blades at a ski show, I gladly bought them. I was without my own boards and he sold them to me for a third of what a new pair of skis would have run me.

For me, skiing has never been about style. My clothes are functional. I switched from Eddie Bauer basic blue to MEC basic black about 12 years ago. My boots are the same Salomon rear entry boots I purchased when I got my original K2s. My helmet is expired and the same pair of goggles have been strapped to them for the life of the helmet. People give me odd looks in lift lines and people I ski with shake their heads when they see my blades. What they don't know is that I don't really care, so long as I am on a ski hill.

Skiing is, bar none, my favorite outdoor winter activity. It is a fantastic way to spend the day with my family. As my boys have grown up, we have enjoyed many amazing days. Part of the joy of skiing comes from spending time in the mountains. Being outdoors in beautiful places like Big White, Castle, Fernie, Kicking Horse, Kimberley, Lake Louise, Mount Norquay, Revelstoke and Sunshine is truly special. Watching my kids gain confidence and skill is incredibly fulfilling. My boys have turned me on to glade skiing and I have taken them down double black diamond runs. The immense sense of fun and pride we all feel when we tackle something challenging is my favorite feeling.

Best of all, skiing is the one activity everyone in my family can take part in together. It can be an expensive sport, but the opportunity for all of us to be outside, get some exercise and spend time with one another is priceless. Make no mistake - my snow blades are a big part of my enjoyment. They help me follow my kids through the trees and around moguls the
size of Smart Cars.

A few years ago, we were skiing at Revelstoke on a HUGE powder day. Revy is a challenge on the best of days, but in the spring, waist deep Selkirk powder can really test your endurance. I rented a big fat pair of powder skis that day and left my blades in the truck. I'm glad I had the big boards to help me push through the thick stuff, but it wasn't the same. I enjoyed the day with my snowboarding friend who lives in Revelstoke, but it was not the same. My wife and kids got too tired and went home after lunch. My old legs struggled to keep those big skis together. I kept up, but the day lacked the things I love most about a day at the hill.

I love the striking contrast of white snow and blue sky. I love riding a lift through the clouds and taking in the panorama of what looks like a lake of clouds with snow capped peaks in the distance. I love listening to the sounds my younger son makes - the "oh God" when he hits some bumps and his giggles when he crashes. I love watching my older son pick his way through the trees. I love linking a bunch of turns together, stopping to rest and visit with my friends and family.

For me, skiing and fly fishing share the same essential qualities. I get to spend my time outside in beautiful places. I am constantly thinking, planning and problem solving. Best of all, I get to share the experience with the people who mean the most to me. If I had the time and the means, I could spend all day, every day on a ski slope or on a river. Some day...

Everyone and Their Dog

"Looks like everyone and their dog is here." ~ Stewart Hutchings

I grew up with a distaste for crowds. I learned this from my father, who intentionally avoided places he considered tourist traps. Many of my friends got to visit the Flinstones theme park in Kelowna, B.C. The Hutchings family drove right past places like this without slowing down. Dad would gladly stop at a place that had historical or cultural significance. Initially, I was led to believe that these were more worthwhile places to visit. In hindsight, it is entirely possible that we actually stopped at these places because they were far less crowded??? We would go out of our way to find campsites that did not have power hookups and showers. When it came time to visit Klondike Days in Edmonton, we went with mom and our grandparents. For the most part, I still dislike crowds. Like the narrator of Robert Frost's famous poem, I prefer the road less taken.

On the May long weekend, we decided to go for a hike on a very popular trail. The Kootenay Plains are a remarkable place to visit and the most traveled path in the area goes to Siffleur Falls. It really is a beautiful spot. The trail is wide, well developed and flat. It is a very easy, accessible, family friendly hike. It is not as busy as a place like Johnston Canyon or Bow Summit, but on the day we hiked it, there was no solitude.

We passed groups of every imaginable composition. Families with three or more generations. Church youth groups. Mountain bikers. Buxom young ladies in bikini tops. Solo trekkers. Shirtless dudes with potbellies toting a Coors Light in one hand and a lit Export A in the other. Young couples. Asian, German, First Nations, Redneck, Quebecois. Aside from the trail we chose to spend our Saturday enjoying, the one thing that most of the groups had in common was a canine companion. When we pulled into the nearly full parking lot, I couldn't help imagine what my father's reaction would be. I honestly think we would have circled the parking lot and left. It was that busy.

While I have many of my dad's quirks when it comes to spending time outdoors, I happen to be a dog owner. One of the first things my wife and I bought together was a Chesapeake Bay Retriever. We named her Bailey (after the character in WKRP, not the Irish Creme) and she was a huge part of our life. She passed away when our boys were fairly young and we were poochless for about three years. In September 2008, we got an e-mail about a litter of seventeen Chesapeake puppies. The pictures were incredibly cute and you can guess the rest of the tale. We have another Retriever in our lives and she keeps us on our toes. She is very true to her breed, though she is quite small. What she lacks in size, she makes up for in speed, agility and stubbornness. Maggie is, shall we say, a spirited creature. She needs to run, swim and retrieve things. She digs, barks, jumps up and listens when it suits her. I am concerned that she could die of gastric misadventure.

In spite of her overall goofiness, we love her to bits and I think the feeling is mutual. She spends most of her nights in the bedroom of one of our family members. If we are not home, she plunks herself between the boys' bedrooms at night. She really is at her best when we are hiking, biking or near a body of water. Needless to say, she was in her glory on the hike to Siffleur Falls. Not only did she get to swim, run and explore, she got to sniff the rear end of dozens of new pooches. Talk about doggy heaven!

I know that this journey would have made dad's skin crawl. It was a bit much for me, but when I really thought about it, it was a great way to spend the afternoon. All of the people we encountered were there for the same reason - to enjoy the outdoors on a beautiful spring day. The dogs we encountered were very well behaved and the hikers were generally well-behaved. My kids had a great trip and I'm pretty sure that, given the opportunity, they will bring their kids to hike this trail.

It is true that I am more willing to visit a crowded place than my father. I have endured the wildlife-induced traffic jams of Yellowstone Park and elbowed for a view of Old Faithful. On our family journey to Los Angeles, we made a bee-line for Hollywood and Disneyland. I love visiting big cities like Toronto and Chicago. Somehow, I don't mind Las Vegas in spite of the incredible excess and waste it represents. Last fall, we spent the night in a Motel 6 in Niagara Falls, ate at the Rainforest Cafe, went on the Skywheel and took a cruise on the Maid of the Mist. Talk about full-bore, crowded, cheesy tourist traps!

Given the choice, I still prefer to have a stretch of river or trail to myself. I don't mind sharing with wildlife. When I fish, I like to go with partner, mainly because my favorite fishing spots tend to be pretty secluded (see my post The Places I Love to Fish).

If I must share the outdoors, I prefer to share with my family. And my dog. After all, I can endure any crowd when I'm surrounded by those I care for the most.

Peace be With You

I believe that you can tell a great deal about a person from the way they treat animals and children. My paternal grandfather was a tough man to be around at times. Even after he passed away, he requested that there be no memorial service. His final wishes were to be cremated and his ashes spread near the junction of the Clearwater and North Saskatchewan Rivers. This spot is about an hour’s drive from my home in Red Deer and it is on the way to one of my favourite rivers to fish. Every time we cross the river, I smile to myself and think of the day we gathered to fulfill his final wishes.

It was a small contingent. Me, my parents, my aunt and uncle. We met for breakfast in Rocky Mountain House, a small town where my grandfather was stationed during his time with the RCMP. The restaurant is a short drive away from junction of the Clearwater and North Saskatchewan, so we found our spot quickly. It was a gorgeous spring day, but we were not able to access the actual junction of the rivers, so we settled for a spot along the banks of the Clearwater just upstream.

As we said our goodbyes and released his ashes, we heard the voices of two small children. Their dog bounded up to meet us and actually ran right through the recently spread remains of my grandfather. At first, I was taken aback that someone else had intruded on the final memory of a man I admired and learned so much from as a child. My aunt, as usual, was able to make me smile and put things into perspective. We didn’t say anything to the children, returned to our vehicles and came to my place in Red Deer to spend the rest of the afternoon. As we prepared for supper, Auntie Lee laughed to herself then told us how she thought it was fitting that our intimate memorial service had been crashed.

“After all,” she noted, “Dad loved kids and animals. He didn’t like most people, but he always had time for children and animals. I don’t think he would have minded that we had company today.”

I’m inspired to write this by the passing of a person I only saw three or four times a year, but I looked forward to seeing him each time. I didn't know him really well, but honestly felt like I got to know him better each time we came to Nordegg. Brent Young was a figure known by anyone who spent time around the Shunda Creek Hostel or townsite at Nordegg, Alberta. He managed the hostel, was a driving force in the volunteer Fire Department/Search and Rescue, introduced countless people to the wonders of central Alberta and put a smile on the face of everyone he talked to. Brent grew up in Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario, but landed in Nordegg several years ago and chose to stay because "he liked the big back yard." He was full of unforgettable witticisms like "There's not much happening, but it's all going on in Nordegg.”

Brent loved the outdoors and the adventure it brought. He told me that the perfect drink was scotch because it was easy to carry into the backcountry and all you really needed to add was snow. One of his main mantras was “No dramas” and he spent as much time as he could climbing, skiing or just trekking around. He was absolutely selfless and never seemed to be in much of a rush. This summer, I watched him tour my ten year old son around the Nordegg Fire/EMS newest bush rescue vehicle. For at least fifteen minutes, he answered every single question with the same patience and enthusiasm. Brent loved to talk and treated people with dignity. He was a big part of the reason I wrote the following blog last summer. (Nordegg: Reason #3 To Love Central Alberta)

For the past several years, every time I brought a group of children to stay at the Hostel, I looked forward to visiting with Brent. My oldest son loved the hostel so much, he wanted to spend his tenth birthday there. From middle schoolers to Cub groups to my own children, Brent treated the kids with respect and loved sharing his little piece of the world with anyone who found their way to the hostel. Kids loved Brent because he wore knitted hats, spoke with the cadence of a surfer and dished out phrases like “Cool bananas” and "Have a sunshiny day". Even if we weren’t staying at the hostel, I loved seeing him around the community or when we came to the hostel for a hot shower.

Brent died last week in a backcountry skiing accident. It seems fitting because he made his exit doing something he loved to do. I’ve read many stories about the untimely passing of people who love the mountains. Will Gadd has written a couple of columns about people who remind me of Brent. Accidents are an acknowledged risk of anyone who heads into the backcountry. No matter how knowledgeable or skilled you are, nature is more powerful and unpredictable. I’ve often said that if I pass away unexpectedly, I’d want to do so while I was fishing. I honestly never believed that a person I knew and admired would be in this type of situation.

The world lost a beauty last week. Brent truly made the world a better place and people can learn a great deal from the way he respected and loved the outdoors, treated others (particularly children), and animals. He was the full meal deal.

We are heading to the hostel for Cub Camp this weekend and it saddens me deeply to know he won’t be there in person. Shakakan.

Rites of Spring

Spring is really important when you live in a cold place.

I live in a cold place. Don't get me wrong, there are many things about winter that I really like. Skiing. Hockey. Sledding. Bright blue skies crashing into blinding white fields. Watching my dog bound through snow. Chinooks. Let's just say that I tolerate winter and make the most of it. The things I dislike about winter far outweigh the things I love, but since I try hard to make this blog a positive place, I will spare you a rant.

In central Alberta, there are a few sure signs of spring. They are special to me because they mean that the longer, warmer, gentler days of summer are on their way. Summer has always been extremely important in my life. I have looked forward to at least two months of holidays for as long as I can remember. I chose to spend my life in school, which means that spring means the end of an important cycle for me. School years are cyclical roller coasters of emotion, urgency and commitment. I have always found that no matter what happens throughout a school year, May brings a degree of relief and contentment.

A sure sign of spring is the premature appearance of white legs in public. I wear shorts for most of the summer and I can't wait to throw on a pair of shorts in the spring. Some people certainly push it and wear shorts when they really shouldn't. I went to an Edmonton Oilers game on February 28. It was seriously cold, but we followed a dude wearing a Boston Bruins jersey and shorts into Rexall Place. Too early for me, but as soon as the daily highs reach double digits (Celcius), I can't help myself. Today was the warmest day of the year so far and it was no coincidence that my boys joined me in wearing shorts to school. At the best of times, my legs look like they were borrowed from a furry chicken. When spring arrives, though, they get unveiled.

Birds also tell me that spring is near. As a kid, my favorite book was An Introduction to Ornithology, closely followed by Roger Tory Peterson's Field Guide to Western Birds. The reappearance of geese, swans, raptors and songbirds always lets me know that warmer temperatures must be on the way. We had an unusally high influx of robins in central Alberta this year and it created false expectations throughout the region. When I was eight, a robin built a nest in a spruce tree on our yard and it was just low enough that I could check it every day. That spring, I watched a life cycle unfold from nest construction to the appearance of three baby blue eggs to the first clumsy flights of the young robins. It was magical to me (and I'm pretty sure I was wearing shorts every time I went to check the nest.)

Flowers also tell me that spring is near. We have tulips in our yard that tentatively poke their heads out once the ground warms up. In Alberta, we usually have a May snowstorm that knocks the stuffing out of the first flowers of spring, but I do enjoy looking for them. Last week, on our way home from the final ski trip of the season, we stopped at a small church just west of Morley flats. I love this spot because this church sits in a beautiful foothill location on the banks of the Bow River. I love not only the location, but the style of the history of this church. It is so representative of Alberta's missionary past. We stopped to look around and I was delighted to find crocuses in full bloom. On the acreage where I grew up, the crocuses would usually share their appearance with the robins. It seems odd how a simple flower can lift your spirits, but seeing those crocuses put me in a great frame of mind.

The most telling sign of spring in Alberta, however, is the magical reappearance of people outside. Through the winter, you see some people on the street. Kids playing hockey, the dedicated dog owners, health nuts and postal workers reign supreme once the snow flies. When the weather turns, however, the trails and sidewalks start to get downright crowded. Bikes, rollerblades, skateboards and scooters materialize. Ball diamonds come to life. The streets around soccer fields are lined with cars and the fields are lined with folding lawn chairs. The smell of grilled meat and the sound of lawnmowers fills the air. Recreational vehicles, shop vacs and pressure washers are pulled out of hibernation. There is a collective energy that is hard to explain, but you recognize immediately.

As I thought about this post, I thought of many other signs of spring. Hockey playoffs, flip flops, backyard fires, street cleaning, rabbits that turn from white to brown overnight, floods in Manitoba, my first sunburnt nose of the season, playing rock/paper/scissors to determine who does the spring dog poo pickup, heading out to fish even though I know the fishing won't be great.

I'm calling it, folks. Spring has sprung. What are YOUR rites of spring?

The Mountains in My Life

Every time I have some moment on a seashore, or in the mountains, or sometimes in a quiet forest, I think this is why the environment has to be preserved.
Bill Bradley

One of the greatest legacies of my childhood is my life-long fascination with mountains. I love to look at them, drive through them, climb them and visit them every chance I get. It takes me ninety minutes to drive to the nearest mountain from my home in Red Deer and it seems like they beckon from the moment I see them. On very clear days, I can see the outline of the Rockies as I drive to school. As a boy, our summer vacations involved either camping or fishing. Often, we were fortunate enough camp and fish in the mountains.

Banff, Jasper, Kananaskis, Nordegg, the Crowsnest Pass, Wells Gray, Kokanee Glacier, Kootenay, Yoho, Mount Revelstoke, Mount Robson. The list of places I learned to love starts with these places and could go on and on. The more I think about it, the more I realize how lucky I was to spend my youth visiting and learning about our natural and cultural history. At first, we camped in Vanguard camper that perched on the back of dad's enormous Ford crew cab truck. The windshield of this truck bore multiple green and yellow National Parks annual pass stickers - the ones with the beaver on them. Yearly admission was something like $25 for Canadian residents and we often spent all of dad's holidays camping, fishing, and hiking.

As I grew older, we began to backpack. We would leave my mom and sister behind at the truck and spend a night or two in the backcountry. It was then that I really learned what it meant to be a part of the mountains. For brief moments as we trudged down I path, I would allow myself to see the land the way the first explorers like David Thompson and Mary Schaffer must have seen this land. Our guidebook for all of these trips was Patton and Robinson's Canadian Rockies Trails Guide. I read this book voraciously, repeatedly and constantly. I owe a great deal of my appreciation for the mountains to these trips. As an adult, my best friend would join dad and one of his friend for a extended backcountry trip. These trips were an amazing opportunity to learn, push myself and reconnect.

When I was twelve, dad and I took a canoe trip up Maligne Lake in Jasper. There are two campsites on this lake that can be accessed only from the water. We spent five nights at one of the sites, which is approximately half way up the lake and two bays away from one of the most photographed spots in the Canadian Rockies, Spirit Island (the photo at the top of my post). Boatloads of tourists walk on and photograph this island because there are hourly boat tours to this spot. It took us five hours to paddle to our campsite and another 20 minutes to paddle to Spirit Island. I can only laugh and think of how many Japanese, British and German photo albums or slide carousels we must be in. Every time the tour boat would pass us, modern day voyageurs in a green Coleman canoe, the clicks and flashes would begin. The day we paddled to Spirit Island, we beached the canoe and took some photos. Just as we were about to have our snack, the tour boat pulled up. One British lady asked us if we were hired by the Parks to pose for pictures on the island. After three days of 30 degree weather and no shower, I imagine she thought we might be street folk who needed a few pennies.

As I have grown up, my time in the mountains has extended and changed. I still camp, hike and backpack. My wife introduced me to skiing, which gives me another excuse to visit the mountains every chance I get. Ski trips have added a new dimension to the mountain experience - visiting these fantastic places in the winter! Seeing the mountains blanketed in white is truly amazing and I cannot think of a better way to spend a winter day. Being outside, smelling the pines, riding a chairlift and racing down these hills is completely invigorating. Skiing is a nearly perfect family activity. It is expensive, but how can you put a price on spending an entire day visiting, exercising, and spending time with your spouse, children and friends?

I am writing this post from a hotel on Tunnel Mountain in Banff. When we checked in to our hotel, my wife said exactly what I was thinking for the last 15 minutes of our drive. Somehow, it feels different when you are in the mountains. It's better. You are closer to nature. I come to the mountains to be outdoors. I come here to spend time with the people I care about the most. I come here to exercise and challenge myself whether I'm camping, hiking, backpacking, climbing, canoeing, rafting, fishing, skiing, snowboarding, snowshoeing, tubing, or sledding. The Rockies really are special. They deserve to be protected and appreciated. For years, I really wanted to live a mountain community, and a small part of me still wants to. The more I think about it, though, I'm not sure if they would hold the same sense of wonder and delight if I got to experience them every day. I would never want to take a beautiful place for granted.

I can only hope that my children grow up feeling the same way I do. It could well be one of the greatest gifts I give my children. If we all felt as passionate about our wild places as I do, we wouldn't need laws and parks to protect them.

Nordegg - Reason #3 to Love Central Alberta

Nordegg is an amazing place. In the words of one of it's most colorful residents, "there's not much happening, but it's all going on in Nordegg." As you wander around the current townsite, it is hard to believe that 3000 people once called this place home. There is a real sense of community in Nordegg. It has about 100 year round residents between those who work in the service industry, live in the north townsite or have other reasons for staying. In no particular order, here are the things that make Nordegg such a worthwhile place to spend a few hours or a few days.

• It is possible to climb several different peaks to get a birds-eye view of Nordegg. Coliseum Mountain, Shunda (Baldy) Mountain and Eagle Ridge are all quite easy to climb and there are few greater feelings than being on top of a mountain!
• Fishing is what first brought me to Nordegg. Within 45 minutes of driving, walking or hiking, you can fish for most of the major trout species (Rainbow, Cutthroat, Brook, Brown, and Lake Trout.) If you have the financial means, you can fly to a pristine alpine lake to fish for Golden Trout. My children have caught most of their fish in this area. It can be busy, but can feel wild and abandoned compared to the crowds you find in the Livingstone, Oldman and Crowsnest drainages.
• You can golf all day for $15 and it's even less for kids. The self-proclaimed Historic Nordegg Golf Course is, well, rustic, but it is perfect for a hacker like me.
• There are tons of trails for mountain biking. One of the most interesting routes follows the abandoned rail bed from the quarry entrance to the Beaverdam Campsite. I rode this route with my kids this summer and it was one of my best afternoons ever.
• There are tons of options for accommodations. There is a hotel in town, at least 10 campsites within a half hour drive, David Thompson Resort, Shunda Creek Hostel, Aurum Lodge, Goldeye Centre and COE (Center for Outdoor Education) are all great possibilities.
• You can visit a National Historic Site and ghost town - Brazeau Collieries
• The Beer Cabin
• The name of one seasonal business (my kids' favorite) says it all - Nordegg Rocks!
  

The Red Deer River: Reason #1 To Love Central Alberta

I had great aspirations to blog each week about the great things central Alberta. It didn't happen, so I'm renaming the first two blogs.

Reason #1 - The Red Deer River Valley

The Red Deer River valley is one amazing place. From whitewater rafting west of Sundre to Dickson Dam to Red Deer's Waskasoo Park system to Canyon Ski Area to Dry Island Buffalo Jump to the Badlands, the Red Deer River offers an incredibly diverse range of opportunties.

As as a resident of Red Deer, I get a chance to see the river up close. It is a place where my dog can run off-leash and swim. The city has an extensive network of multi-use paths for people to cycle, skate, ski, walk and run. The river valley is home to River Bend Golf Course and the Red Deer Golf and Country Club. Cultural attractions like Fort Normandeau and Cronquist House are places to learn why people settled in the area.

Let's treasure this resource. Take advantage of it, but don't abuse it. Two summers ago, we took a day trip in our canoe and had lunch on the island across from Bower Ponds. I was profoundly disappointed that we had to watch where our children were walking because the island was strewn with broken glass. On hot days, legions of people float the river in a wide variety of vessels. Most have a fully-stocked cooler on board. Few have paddles or PFDs. It's a terrible accident waiting to happen.

Thankfully, groups like the Red Deer River Watershed Alliance work hard to protect, enhance and promote this amazing resource. The river gives us a place to play and gather. It provides us with drinking water and electricity. Take care of the river, OK? It's not much to ask when you consider the positive impact this river makes on our lives.

Take Your Kids Outdoors!

My goal here is to issue a plea to parents, teachers, grandparents, caregivers and anyone else who has a say in how children spend their time. Get them outside. Please. The joy of being outside with your children is difficult to describe, but it's possible to summarize in a look or a sound. A month ago, I took my son's Cub group on a hike. I knew where we were going, so everyone had to follow me. This meant that I got to arrive first and take in the looks on the kids faces as they approached the canyon we were going to follow. The look can be summarized as a sudden stop in forward momentum, followed by a significant widening of the eyes and opening of the mouth. The sound? Simple. "That is SO COOOOOOOOOOOOL!"

The canyon you see in the picture above is, possibly, my favorite place on the planet. I've taken hundreds of students there. I camped at the edge of this river on my honeymoon. I have fallen off rocks, scraped my arms, and fished this canyon with my children, my best friends and even my mother-in-law. Every time I go there, I feel connected to our world in a way that is really difficult to explain in words. You have to FEEL it.

Feeling is a powerful thing for me. I grew up hiking with my parents. As I got older, the hikes got longer and more involved. Some of the greatest memories I have are of hiking with my dad and my best friend. Each summer, we took on a different "classic" - West Coast Trail, Chilkoot Trail, Mount Robson, Mount Assiniboine, Skoki Valley, the Skyline Trail. It was on the Skyline that I experienced one of the most powerful feelings I know - the feeling of climbing a mountain. It was not a huge peak, but it was a peak and the minute I arrived at the top, I literally felt like I was on top of the world.

This morning, I took my son and his best friends to the top of a mountain. For years, my boy called this place "Radio Tower Mountain" and I know that he has wanted to go up there from the first time he saw it. So, for his birthday, we made the trek west to accomplish this goal. Last night, as we looked up at the mountain, I know that the boys really didn't understand what they were about to do. "We're going up there? Cool." My son has been to the top of other mountains, so he knew what we were in for, but the other boys had no clue.

As we climbed and climbed and climbed, I didn't hear a word of complaint. Every time the views opened up, one of my son's friends would say something like "This is so cool" or "Wow" or "This is beautiful" or "This is amazing". I can't help myself - I just love hearing those reactions and seeing the looks on their faces. It's a look that I've seen when we visit canyons, waterfalls, hoodoos, geysers, tide pools, the ocean, the Badlands, petroglyphs and yes, even Disneyland. These are looks of light, of learning, or sheer joy.

Have you really looked at a child playing a video game? All I see is grim determination, blank stares and frustration when the quest of the next level is thwarted. It's a shocking contrast to the look of a child who has caught a fish, skied their first black diamond run, jumped off a boat in the middle of a lake, climbed a rock face or finished a difficult bike ride.

I know which look I prefer. Even better, I know that I have directly caused those amazing looks on the faces of children.