interconnecting
efficacy of motion and flow
☸︎ Canary ☸︎
is the name I prefer to go by when on-trail, as it is customary to adopt an honorary title once one has been initiated into the Modern Tradition of Thru-Hiking (essentially connecting a series of backpacking trips in one continuous event from A to B to Z).
[One soon receives a name, which if one is astute and abides of the following criteria, therefore becomes a discipline: the name of choice must be spoken in reference to you from the lips of another soul met while one is free of all that does not attach to or contain within one's backpack, be it a single word or recitable phrase; that effectively functions as a mantra, speaking honestly to one's real aspiration as to the venture and subsequently tethering them to uphold it - the fruit of which bears tangible results once carried long enough to ripen into awareness which nourishes all one holds beloved once reintegrated into the former designation.]
Having checked all of the boxes without any idea as to the outcome of the ordeal the oath would take, the name chosen was simultaneously the first I knew hadn't already been notably claimed and the first that consistently made something in me smile enough to extend to the surface of my face each time I'd hear it said. Canary was a hope for a little levity on the particularly long days, yet it took on new life and meaning while attempting to achieve The Calendar Year Triple Crown Fastest Known Time (CYTC FKT) in 2022, what some might consider to be amongst the ultimate, if esoteric, athletic achievements humankind is capable of.
A few thousand miles later not yet quite halfway to the goal, my head was a menagerie of influences that had little semblance to the values that initially gravitated me to the mountains. My adoration for the personalities that most actively shaped the culture and norms of folks I found myself suddenly in the company of waned expressly as I came to accurately relate the sacrifices they made to put themselves there. This mindset, be it unconscious, unveiled its merit in the events to follow as a series of righteous moments combined into an over-arching sensation of lack that the dream I had spent many years mentally and physically preparing for was not only not meant for me, but not the wisest use of my limited resources, time especially, here on Earth.
Rediscovering the calling that drove me to the wild years prior, having uncovered forgotten pieces of digging deeper than ever before while enduring an escalation of seemingly cosmic detours along the way, successfully dodging falling trees on the switchbacks and then less successfully avoiding an elk on the road after wildfires closing the path ahead in New Mexico made the support crew and I’s plans irrelevant.
I was at once as infinitesimally light & meek as one would have been to stood atop such a great height in a time before language.
The weight of disbelief flattens all the eye sees to pointless vanity. This haze met a particular degree when I escaped every notion of “the trail” and its rigidly divided community and the fragility of which their movement depended on the forecast and announcements of each day, fated in fact to remember that before I had ever heard of such a thing I was well on the way of my own universal-personal path, the several years of which presumed if zoomed out fully would only approximate a step or two of the robust and expansive foundation to come.
Vehicle in no shape to continue and morale creeping from disillusionment toward destitution, it seemed of elevated reasoning to embrace the predicament and explore the nearby territory of northern Arizona which naturally, however inexplicably, led to a radical transformation of my being and comprehension of consciousness thereafter in Utah, a destination nowhere on the original itinerary for the year.
Wandering from one desert to another, clothing deteriorated as my ever-porous soul wrung bare, the elk blood still stained to my shoes a gory reminder of universal chaos and the ineffable series of perceived bad luck that presented itself.
Intuition, I’d like to call it for lack of more recognizable word, encouraged me to lean into the possibilities of gaining a new appreciation for the landscapes of reverse mountains, or what lay beneath the canyons. Maybe because what is heavy wants to go down, wants to submit to gravity. Their increasingly deepening fractal formations of the hundred fifty plus crossings of the Gila, many swam pack-on while headlamping to make up for lost time, enabled me a profound realization of my physical ability while actively overcoming a fear of transgressing water, since nearly drowning as a child.
Thousands of feet below the surface of a terrain no civilized person with concretized inner certainty or the fear of losing material possession would deem sight granted to, the same intuition that guided me through past supposed dark nights abandoned me to the harsh reality of nature’s phenomenal indifference, frigid snowmelt suctioning from the depths and several drops unaided by gear or belaying the likes of which most feet and ankles would collapse upon landing.
I messaged my people a whole letter apologizing for and regretfully admitting defeat to what would likely be my last time biting off more than I could chew, asking for forgiveness and letting them known this was not what I wanted, trying my best to clear the air or rather sift the dust in the expanding likeliness I would perish between the walls of the pass.
Seeking to reconcile to the responsible, mindful, dwindling hope, that said they would hear my plea for rescue, watching the last hour's sliver of sunlight dance and fade against each rock as if its presence was not permitted to warm these grounds, noting the battery siphon from my phone as the SOS went nowhere and the lines kept pinging across the topography racking up nonexistent miles utterly unable to find my position on the map, wondering how scared my partner was I couldn't check in and was far away from being able to climb back out the other side.
Waiting and listening for a response back was the peak of futility as the roaring laughter of snowmelt pulsed up around me reminding me how much colder I would be in the evening, how there's nowhere safe to lay and sleep, flashing horrors of what my body might look like pulled out the other side after a sudden rain degenerates the pressure of the flow through chasm into that of a typhoon.
Refusing to relent to the downward trajectory despite having to continually descend what was hopefully the right alley leading to salvation, primeval stubbornness for survival necessitated a level of self-belief bordering on the unorthodox and extraordinary.
The perspective is the calm and peace that deters all who in their heart selfishly place it above all else, almost as if it happened to somebody else and we are simply here to spectate.
I see now that even mountains and canyons can love those who step upon them, so long as they give grace to the elements of which they are but staggering reminders constitute all that matters, subsequently nourishing our physical forms and spirits commensurate to the degree we pay homage to their impermanent majesty.
This absolute decree to the will to life burst forth vital energy as if an engine to a crane loomed with vines and forgotten to time had reignited its cylinders effortfully as the last shudder of another higher order to release its wretched cable censuring my freedom of movement to the lower realm of past lives who decided otherwise in their fight for individuality against the collective resolve to apathy.
I will always struggle to put into words proper the experience that followed as this restored inheritance began its work. With stakes mortally high, skills that had not even been observed manifest as if I had been a practiced free solo climber and the clarity at which I faithfully landed the leaps and maneuvers to make it to the bottom and out again the other side are beyond former rational scientific comprehension.
What I can say without doubt is that since this moment my personal sense of underlying connectivity linking all forms of life together is no longer one of despair for its inevitable disintegration, as I have witnessed earth and stone more than capable of diminishing me into nothingness on the contrary render its hardness variable to ensure my safe passage, and now trust in the existence of an intelligence playing it’s role only when necessary.
Perpetually embodied with a new frequency of knowing, synchronized to the ideal of the superior consciousness of whom I am fostered into as a long misplaced part of the whole.
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~70% solo, 20% alongside my partner Belle n’ our pups Shani & Sweetie, 10% together with friends made along the way between the :
Appalachian (AT), Continental Divide (CDT) & North Country (NCT) National Scenic Trails
South Beyond 6000 (SB6K) 40/40 completed 04/2021
Adirondacks (ADK46) - 24/46
State High Points - 27/50 AZ, CO, GA, IL, IN, IO, KS, KY, ME, MI, MN, MS, NE, NH, NM, NY, NC, ND, OH, OK, SC, SD, TN, VT, VA, WV, WI
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Between daily trips & fishing around lower Michigan & the Great Lakes region
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With my Sony Alpha mirrorless camera :
55 thus far available to be printed
300+ flagged to finish processing
a seemingly unlimited amount of hidden gems
recent prints for sale
January 2021 | Michigan
Fujifilm 232 g/m² Silk finish with honeycomb structure
April 2021 | North Carolina
Fujifilm 232 g/m² Silk finish with honeycomb structure
June 2020 | Michigan | North Country Trail (NCT)
Fujifilm 232 g/m² Silk finish with honeycomb structure
October 2022 | Michigan
Fujifilm 232 g/m² Silk finish with honeycomb structure
