If you are interested in adventure travel or sports at all, you should check out the current issue (Spring/Summer 2010) of Wend Magazine. It features some killer photos (including the cover shot!) by my good buddy T.C. Worley.

Plus you can check out a story about a gnarly section of the Flathead River valley that I used to call “my backyard.”

Sign up to read every digital edition for free, or pick up a copy at your local Borders or Barnes & Noble

We recently visited Chimney Rock State Park, just south of Ashville, NC.

It’s a really great destination for families since they’ve added steps, boardwalks and railings to make the hiking accessible to anyone.

We kept calling Exclamation Point “Explanation Point,” which doesn’t sound nearly so awe-inspiring… but it’s worth the extra 1,000 steps or so past Devil’s Head (above)… and the hike back to ground level is really cool, with rock outcroppings and alternate views of the Chimney Rock.

A few of us still had the energy to hike the mile or so out to the 400-ft. Hickory Nut Falls… we weren’t allowed nearly as close as we’d hoped, but maybe next trip there will be fewer park rangers around…

Actually, situations like that are kind of adjusting my parenting.

Those times when I know I would jump the barrier… but don’t want my kids to.

Over the past several years I’ve been trying to keep them from harm’s way… offering up a “be careful” or “no, no, no…” if I happen to catch them doing anything slightly dangerous (like on the jungle gym for instance).

But at some point over the past year I’ve realized… the most fun things in life are dangerous.

I’ve got to breed a little recklessness into them.

I know when I was 8 years old I would have been 20 feet up in a tree… so why do I doubt my own kids’ exploration skills… and more importantly, why would I ever want to rob them of those experiences?

Because they might get hurt?

Getting hurt brings wisdom. Overcoming pain brings courage. Reaching the summit brings enlightenment.

So now I’ve come to anticipate stitches and broken bones and scraped knees and bee stings and fat lips as an imminent part of our life together.

(along with bike ramps and skateboards and tree forts and slides-into-home)

And I expect heartbreak and detention and fender-benders and cigarettes to be a part of our not-nearly-distant-enough future.

(along with first kisses and summer jobs and missions trips and compassion and generosity)

I hope that right now I’m teaching them to make healthy choices as teens, to discover which adventures are worth the risk (love, compassion, discovery)… and which ones are not (rebellion, revenge, status)…

Hopefully the present scrapes and bruises will help future decisions come not from fear, but from wisdom.

Check out more of my photos here.

Everybody Get Dangerous

When I was younger
I used to go and tip cows for fun, yeah
Actually I didn’t do that
‘Cos I didn’t want the cow to be sad
But some of my friends did
They were all just a little bit wicked
They’d blow up mail boxes
With a baseball bat
Go for direct hits

On Halloween you can forget it
They throw rotten eggs into traffic
Toilet paper the fences
Throw the tables, chairs, and the benches
After practice
Sometimes we would break into mad fits
Causin’ damage
(Burnin’ amplifiers and mic stands)

Everybody get dangerous (Boo yah!

I’ve got a confession
That I will make if you will listen
Late in the night times
We’d drive around with hairspray and sharp knives
Lookin’ for road kills
Lightin’ things on fire for cheap thrills
Stab the corpses
And lick the knives like we’re evil forces

Hockey games on frozen ponds
No safety pads were ever put on
Drivin’ home on country roads
Sixty-five in a twenty-five zone
In my parents Tercel
How did we survive so well
Throw the keys and the wheel locked up
I almost killed every one of us…

Everybody get dangerous (Boo yah!)

There must be
A guardian angel
Or some kind of destiny we have
‘Cos we should have died
A long time ago
The way that we were livin’ in our paths

What will we say when our kids come to us
And ask, with a smile on their face,
“Hey Dad, my friend’s got some new ninja swords!
Is it cool if we slash up his place?”

It had been probably fifteen years since I’d done any kind of guy-trip.

Last summer my friend Robbie and I met up with our buddy T.C. (who happens to be a pretty amazing editorial photographer) in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula for a camping trip and immediately agreed that these things must happen more regularly.

So as soon as the snow melted we had plans for a new trip.

The 2010 group grew to six dudes and our adventure took us further from home and civilization into the Porcupine Mountains.

Driving across the U.P. is like passing through another country. The people there do speak English, but name their business establishments as though no one does (i.e. “Grocery” and “Family Dining”)

We chose Mirror Lake as the hub of our retreat, which worked perfectly because of its central location. We managed to hike 5 different trails going to and from the lake, each one with its own unique personality.

It’s really amazing to sit at a campfire with six men in the middle of nowhere and never once discuss sports or politics or babes, but rather each of us listening and sharing on primarily “how can I be a better husband/dad/human being?”

This year I’ve made a conscious effort to face my fears and make my life an adventure—living more in each moment as it comes…

It was pretty cool to see some of that stuff realized on this trip.

Probably the biggest lesson I’ve learned is that if I start talking myself out of something it is a good sign that “something” is the very thing I should be doing.

Fears or not, I’m living life with no browndries.

Here’s a few of my favorite photos from the weekend. Let me know which is your favorite in the comments!

Also… Click here to check out a few more extra-special shots – don’t forget to “Like.”

I discovered Spikehorn Meyers this week in an old travel-film clip my grandma sent me

It’s really cool to see mid-century footage of my home here in Traverse City and the Sleeping Bear Dunes, but Ol’ Spikehorn steals the show.

He seems like a guy I’d want to know… or maybe even a guy I might have become…

Spikehorn said that the company of bears was much preferable to that of other people… he might be right, but I guess I’m lucky that I haven’t yet become so cynical about people that I’ve taken to avoiding them altogether…

I was hoping to check out the biography from my local library, but I haven’t had time… each nugget of  information I scrounged up online just made Spikehorn more and more interesting though…

like when he made national news in 1945 after sending wires to Truman, Atlee and Stalin announcing a personal offer of $50K for the capture of Adolph Hitler.

I like him…

Photo from Don Harrison’s Up North Memories Flickr collection. I thought some color might give it a little life.

You can’t visit New York without catching some live music, and you can’t catch live music like this anywhere but New York.

Cram an Indian marching band, a jazz ensemble, a funk band and 100 audience members (of every race and creed) into a 200 sq. ft. room.

That is Red Baraat at Barbès in Brooklyn.

Thanks Paul for encouraging me to attend.

This picture could have been taken anywhere.

Catching a bit of air conditioning and cold beverages on a hot August day in anytown U.S.A.

But it isn’t anywhere.

It’s Brooklyn.

Diversity everywhere.

Flea markets (with tall guys that refurbish bikes and small guys that hand-print t-shirts).

Sushi.

Life-changing corn and rainwater toilets.

It’s Brooklyn.

More pics on my portfolio blog.