Champney Falls

It's funny how the mind works when revisiting places like Champney Falls. The ethereal walk, the play of the light in the trees, the wind’s song, the refracted light, the race towards the dying sun, muscles sore from moving fast and running from the cold of the night.  Visions of past climbing trips kept dancing around in my mind.  The current faces were replaced with wonderful memories of the distant past; of time spent on the ice with the likes of: David Cummings, Alexander Phillips, Jonathan Hydeman, Ryan Barber, David Steintford, and Eric Kirchner - for moments I was transported back to early days of the new century, back to long drives in the old school van, back to weekend trips to Stowe, VT, back to meals at Flatbread, and back to Acadia.  They were great days, formative days, days that left a lasting impression and formed a "brotherhood of the rope."  All these years later, I still hear from and occasionally climb with the aforementioned young men, and I think about what a wonderful gift climbing is, how it shapes us, how the activity, the movement, the trust, and the experience leave an indelible mark on us all.  This I believe is what being an educator and guide is all about.