Year Review: 2023

December 2023

Background

I've always been drawn to the way some apps, like Strava, give people a summary of their year. But I don't use Strava because I'm more drawn to stories than numbers. But none of the ways that I record my life will give me an adequate summary of my stories or numbers. So I'm putting in the work to build my own. If you find yourself wondering why I value the things I do, my about page may clarify.

Years past

Up to 2019: School, but really putting school on the back burner in favor of outdoor adventures whenever possible. Having some great ones, especially in college, but mostly just beginning to learn what's possible and dreaming of doing it someday.

2020: I invested in the next steps of my career as an adventurer by upgrading gear and doing my first long trip.

2021: My first taste of big freedom thanks to an increase in time, money, and partners.

2022: I dialed back the freedom a bit by spending summer at home, and intentionally honed skills in trip planning, whitewater safety, video, and writing.

2023: Combined everything I've learned with legendary conditions and the most freedom I've ever had for a truly prolific year.

By the numbers

I'm interested in data, but not in the usual way. I like to go fast, but I don't keep track of speed. I like to go far, but I don't keep track of distance. I like to go up and down, but I don't keep track of elevation. I love to be outside for a lot of time, preferably for long periods of time all at once. The data that I keep is evidence of that value. In 2023, I logged:

• 22 days of skiing

• 52 days of paddling, including a 10 day trip

• 88 days guiding hiking trips, including three 7 day trips

• 31 days of personal backpacking, including 11 and 8 day trips

Of course, countless moments of value hide between these lines. Unmentioned are the hours and days I spent biking, writing, running, editing video, posting, cooking, looking at my friends' posts, eating, lounging, reading, working at a shop, socializing in town, and driving.

By the stories

I record stories mostly for myself but I find value in sharing them, too. So I have yet to keep any sort of private journal - all my recorded stories are throughout my website, on YouTube videos, but mostly on my Instagram. Look there if you want details. Here, my goal is to look back and summarize the flow of my year.

On the first day of 2023, I was attempting to paddle a creek with the word "dry" in the name, but there was too much water. The flood cycle was a continuation of the unusually cool and wet weather we had enjoyed in the previous summer and fall of 2022. This trend had already allowed us to do a few unique things outside, but I was fully surprised when 2023 brought more winter than I had ever seen before. The exhilarating weather would be the primary driver of my purpose in 2023, and set the tone for the whole year.

In the first week of January, I began taking advantage of incredible ski conditions in the hills around Flagstaff. Usually we only have skiable snowpack on the biggest hill, but in 2023 the small hills provided great skiing as well - a unique opportunity. I spent 24 hours skiing in the first week of the year, but when the snow didn't stop, neither could I. Throughout January and February I developed a routine of skiing as much as possible. Weekly snowstorms brought feet upon feet of snow and the weather remained cold, allowing it to persist. I woke up as early as needed to make spend hours shoveling and snow blowing so that I could get to work or the ski hill on time.

Although great ski conditions persisted well into the spring, March brought a distinct shift in my focus. I skied only two days, began guiding a lot of hiking trips, and began paddling in ernest. I had already escaped the pull of the snow when my legs were tired for some great winter days on the water, but now my primary focus was packrafting. The fact that more of my friends were avid paddlers than skiers eased this choice. But what really made it feel natural was the extraordinary uniqueness of the conditions. The enormous snowpack began to melt off, producing boatable flows on many ultra-rare waterways around Flagstaff itself, such as the Rio de Flag, Pumphouse, Newman, and Walnut Creeks. As days grew longer and warmer towards the end of the month, I pulled together 8 friends for our first multiday trip of the year, a weekend on the Gila River.

April began with continuing to enjoy the wildflower bloom of the Sonoran, but my focus quickly shifted back to boating around northern Arizona in between guiding. By then, the intense runoff had lessened but high elevation reservoirs were only beginning to spill over, allowing me to spend 5 days exploring Walnut and East Clear Creeks by boat. On the first attempt of the latter, Joelle got a severe foot injury during a portage which altered the trajectory of the coming months. I had two weeks set aside in late April and May for a multiday ski traverse and packrafting the Escalante. My ski plans fell apart, and instead I chose to go on a different Escalante trip while Joelle went to visit her family. When we returned from 11 days apart we met at a concert, then came home late at night to find mice had infested our trailer home. After 4 years in the trailer, we had already made plans to move into a rental house in early June. But that was a month away, so we spent most of May in the chaos of camping, staying at friends' places, and readying the trailer for sale. Towards the end of the month, I escaped for an incredible late-season run of the Salt River. That rekindled my desperation to paddle rare waters, so Joelle joined a trip to paddle the Dirty Devil, which was the worst trip we've ever done.

The June 10th move-in date for our house shared with 5 friends was inconveniently timed. I was away for nine days in Estes Park leading a training for new guides. I returned to a bit of chaos because our sewer system was clogged and we were unable to use drains for nearly two weeks. Eventually though, we settled in. Although I didn't work much in this month, I was still too caught up with life admin to have much fun. This was the final month of the year that would provide unique river flows, so we did sneak away for a weekend on the beautiful Dolores River.

Early on, it had become clear that the first half of 2023 would provide limitless opportunity. I immediately knew I wouldn't be able to do it all. I had goals going into the year, and the mega winter added many more. From the beginning, I just wanted to be able to look back and know that I tried. As the days of June ran out, I had already created a lot of memories, and I was extremely grateful for how hard I was indeed able to try. I had done a lot. But for two and a half months, life had been complicated and restricting. I loved the feeling of doing a lot of what I love, and I was eager to break free and do more. On July 4th, Daniel and I skied the north face of Humphreys for his 30th birthday, and then Joelle and I threw a big party for him. That was the kind of thing we were excited to use the house for. The next day, I drove to Wyoming. It was hard to leave my community and home behind, but I would see them again very soon.

Besides Joelle hurting her foot, I had been a part of a couple other stressful scenarios this spring: a guided guest fell and broke their tib-fib, and my dad got swept into a potential strainer. These events had me questioning my ability to determine the compatibility of people and sttyles of activity. All of these incidents occurred on terrain that I would consider easy, but clearly was not for everyone. I was eager to push myself further, but it had become clear that I need to be careful choosing who I do that with and how. I was developing the idea that if no one capable was available join me, I would be better off choosing objectives I felt comfortable doing solo.

I arrived in Wyoming in time to catch the end of runoff, a perfect time to explore some waterways I had been dreaming about. With a guiding trip in between, I spent a few incredible days running glorious whitewater on the Greys River, Granite Creek, Hoback River Alpine Canyon, the Gros Ventre, and the North and South Buffalo Fork. I continued guiding trips, none of which were incredible, so I was really keen to take advantage of the gaps in between. With plans on the horizon for the my hardest backpacking trip yet, and the realization that I hadn't really hiked in two months, my focus on rivers disappeared completely when the flows dropped. As July faded, I began hiking and running trails more often. On the first day of August when I was ready to really test myself, I took advantage of a small weather window to climb the Grand Teton solo in a day. I had spent a lot of time trying to figure out if I would feel comfortable on the route. Eventually I decided I needed to go for a big hike anyway, so I may as well have a look. It felt great! Then I enjoyed a wonderful few days with my parents showing them friendly versions of my favorite places in Wyoming.

With restored confidence in my hiking ability, I was excited to kick off a month without work by attempting the Wind River High Route. Reunited with some of my best friends Daniel and Quinton, we carried 11 days of food into the most stunning mountain wilderness in the 48. The off-trail travel felt glorious and we saw things more wonderful than I could've imagined. Being out there for so long was amazing, but I felt strong and by the end I was already eager to try another high route at a bit faster pace. My travels continued when I drove to pickup Joelle in Boise and we kicked off September heading north, doing some excellent paddling and visiting my great aunt Barbara, but getting our hiking plans foiled by rain and illness. We carried on to Oregon where we spent the core of our road trip seeking out waterfalls to hike to and rivers to packraft. At the end of the vacation, we spent five days visiting her family and our friends throughout southern Oregon, then drove 17 hours home in a day.

My compulsive need for skiing and boating was satiated from an incredible water year, and I was inspired by the WRHR experience. I was ready to give backpacking my sole focus for two and a half months of prime Grand Canyon season. I opened it up by guiding three five-day trips in a row and going on hikes with Joelle in between. Unfortunately that led me to find one of my limits and I developed a moderate back injury. We had to postpone our own trip by a month, making my October a mediocre month of PT and a little bit of biking. Finally doing that hike from North Bass to Kanab Creek in November was the Grand finale of my year. Joelle, Daniel, Abbey and I spent 8-days walking without trails through a stunning section that featured nearly constant water and slot canyons. It was my favorite Grand Canyon trip yet.

After one last guide trip, I was finally satisfied with an incredible year of adventure and ready to shift my focus to recap and family time. Luckily, some of my siblings made that pretty painless by being willing to come on a couple of long-weekend backpacking trips. I'm really pleased with how effectively I managed to capture everything I did in 2023, and became interested in creating a series of content summarizing what I did and what I learned, such as this post, a highlight video, and some gear reviews. I spent some December days working at a ski shop for the third winter in a row, but shortly got a different job sewing bikepacking gear, where I'll go full-time in the new year. With no snow in sight, I spent the final days of 2023 enjoying sunshine and visiting family in Phoenix and San Diego.

Tradeoffs

For years now I have been stating that my favorite thing in the world is aligning knowledge of environmental conditions with outdoor activity. So when we were given incredible and rare conditions in 2023, I was obsessed. Responsibilities were pushed to the back of my brain so that I could willingly give in to the pursuit of snow and flow. I maintained focus on my initial goals for the year, but also added a bunch of unique opportunities to the list. This set a tone and pace for the year that was hard to break out of. Conditions returned to normal in June, but it was hard to leave that scarcity do-it-all mindset without feeling lame and unfulfilled.  So I pressed into it. I learned to appreciate the benefits of being on my own, loving solo adventures for the first time. I solidified a valid sense of identity around what I do and what I do with it.

I've already been calling 2023 my best year yet, and must continue to do so if I'm being honest. But now, having done it, I don't need to do it exactly that way again. Prolific does not equal perfect. There were cons. 

The most obvious of those is injury. I don't blame myself for breaking Joelle's foot, risking my dad going into a strainer, or letting a client fall. But it's clear that my eagerness to take advantage of rare river flows contributed to the first two. My own injury is much easier to understand. I went too hard, I developed tension in my back, I strained a muscle. I've dealt with a couple of overuse injuries in the past but none exactly like that, so it was a good lesson. A pretty cheap lesson, considering how well the rearrangement worked out.

The more complicated con I wish to explore here is that 2023 was a shining example of my own selfishness. On the one hand, I believe firmly that the limited days of my twenties are a most excellent time to be selfish. I believe that there are benefits to being selfish, because it allows one to "fill their own cup" and learn lessons about the world so that they are better equipped to be selfless later on. But nevertheless, it is clear to me that too much selfishness can result in the pain of others. Although I'm young, I do have a partner, and Joelle deserves to be a priority in my life. This year, she was, with a few notable exceptions. Three periods of time stand out when my absence caused Joelle undue hardship.

The first of these was my Escalante trip, largely because it was supposed to be our trip. Joelle broke her foot 4 weeks before we were supposed to go, and 2 weeks after her injury, I went anyway. Daniel and I were invited by some awesome new friends, and as hard as it was, Joelle encouraged me to go on the trip without her while she visited family. It made sense to go on the trip, but that didn't change how heart-wrenching it was, for her and I both. We had planned to do it together, and I did it without her. We'll go back together, sure. But it was sad. After months of processing this decision, what I can say is that I am not proud of it, but I do not regret it. I could've been restless at home, but instead I was able to connect with new friends and have an incredible landscape-scale experience.

The next was the seven weeks of summer that Joelle and I spent apart. This was the result of a choice I had already made long ago, and would've felt more tolerable if she had not been injured. The first two weeks in particular were the most difficult, because she was still in a bit of depression induced by the injury and our complicated housing issues. I had resolved those issues before leaving, and she was certainly able to take care of herself, but the pain of being forced to spend time apart was heavy. Luckily, I am not the only person in Joelle's support system. She was able to join close friends on a 10-day trip to the Yampa River, one of the highlights of her year. She was reinvigorated by the experience and returned home with her usual resilience. She spent the rest of summer free to invest more than ever in friendships with other women. In hindsight, we both are able to look back on the summer and realize the benefits, although it was hard to spend time apart.

The final situation came after our September road trip, when I got injured, putting our next trip together in jeopardy. I don't really see this as a result of selfishness at all, actually more of a miscalculation in how many different things I could give my time and energy to. Working a lot to make up for our vacation made me more absent than I prefer, so I tried to make up for that by hiking with Joelle in the gaps, and the result was me being unable to do the most important hike of all. In the end it worked out quite well, but was certainly a difficult time.

As I process this selfishness, what has become clear to me is that only times it truly felt excessive were the result of injury. If this year had been injury-free, I would not have been confronted with such difficult tradeoffs. For people with an active lifestyle, the psychological pain of an injury far outweighs the physical.

Goal for next year

Of course I still have an ever-growing list of things I want to do in life, but I have a lot of time left. Most of them are related to outdoor adventure, but not all. 

Living in a house has been a huge upgrade in our ability to eat well and host others, which I've really enjoyed. But I really dislike paying rent. I want housing security and stability. That will take significant effort. I want to experiment with having a stable schedule and less physical job, at least for a larger part of the year. I plan to do that by dialing back the guiding a bit and working a production job instead. I want to become highly proficient at sewing. I want to produce better video and more writing. I want to grow and refine this website. I want to take better care of my family and my relationships with them. 

But the core of my existence requires being outside, and I want a good deal of that too. I hope to explore the rest of the Verde, I hope to packraft the Escalante, I hope to go to Alaska, guide trips in Washington, and continue hiking the length of Grand Canyon. I want to do it all with Joelle. In 2024 I hope to continue being true to myself and living the life of my dreams, but in a more sustainable way. My goal for 2024 is balance.