What a Week in the Wild Offered

I’m back. Home. Body sore, gear aired out, boots still muddy. And my soul? Recharged. Here’s what a week under the open sky handed me—raw, wild, and unforgettable.

The Warm-Up: South Zone Ops

The first few nights were spent in Ossipee. Basecamp at the training grounds. Days out scouting—paddling rivers, checking drop-in points, hiking old trails with fresh eyes.

And man, getting my feet wet with canoeing was half the battle, half the fun.

Bearcamp River — Clean water, scenic route, just enough challenge to sharpen the edges. A few campers stopped and stared, watching me stand up in the canoe using a push pole like it was something out of a frontier history book. One guy chuckled, “You know they make motors, right?” Yeah… but where’s the adventure in that?

Merrymeeting Lake — Beautiful float, but a real lesson in weight balance. Even a light breeze had the bow dancing like it was on caffeine. Solo paddling while filming content? That’s a three-ring circus. Still—worth it. People want to see what this life looks like, and I want to show them why it matters.

Cocheco River — Easy paddle, but the water? Murky. Trash floating, downed trees blocking the way. It could be something great, especially with the handicap-accessible launch—but it needs care, cleanup, and dedication.

That day hit hard with heat. After the float, I hiked a trail the kids and I had hit a few years ago—walked into some memories and came out clearer. Crashed in the truck under shade, windows cracked, nature humming me to sleep.

Woke up later than expected and called home. “Hey... you guys want to go swimming?” Best call I made that day. Cool water, big grins.

Marianne even surprised us with dinner out. A pleasant meal before heading north for the real test.

Into the North: Wild and Wide Open

Wednesday. 0600. Up and moving. Camp broken down, truck loaded, wheels rolling by 0700. Four hours north and it just kept getting better—mountains, rivers, boulder faces, lakes you only hear about in old stories.

I hit the northern border. No fanfare. Just a small moment to myself: I made it. Checked the box. Dipped my feet in the Third CT Lake, had some lunch, and let the silence settle in.

Rolled into my next site—right on the water. No neighbors. No noise. Just me, a wide-open lake, and that sacred kind of stillness most folks never find.

Trail Runs and Tests of Will

First hike: Deer Mountain Firetower. The trail disappeared under fallen trees more than once. At times, it felt like I was making my own way—no clear path, just instincts and a stubborn drive to keep moving. I nearly turned back.

But I stayed with it—and sure enough, the tower came into view like a beacon. Made it to the top. Took in the silence and the altitude. Coming down was easy. Ain’t that always the truth?

That night? Stars scattered across the sky like shattered glass. Crickets, wind, the soft lap of water. I slept like I’d earned it.

Thursday Hits Different

I woke up with fire in my chest. Two mountains on the list. Let’s go.

But nope—both were unreachable. The access bridge was out, trailheads cut off. No go. Frustration tried to creep in... but I wasn’t about to let the day waste away.

So I shifted gears. Opted for a few other trails and got moving. Different than planned, but still solid mileage—and exactly what I needed.

Then I found it—Malagoway Trail. Straight shot up to a firetower. Brutal vertical. Quads on fire. But the top? 360-degree views that stopped me cold.

Climbed the tower, wind in my face. That feeling? Like standing above the noise.

Moments You Don’t Plan For

Dinner at camp. Quick swim in the lake to rinse off the miles. As I’m drying off—SPLASH.

Louder than a fish. Too subtle for a beaver. I turn and—a baby deer. Standing there. Watching me. Not afraid. Just... present.

That moment? Unscripted. That’s the kind of thing you don’t find on a screen. It finds you when you’re where you’re meant to be.

And Now... Your Turn

This wasn’t just a trip—it was a full reset. Solitude. Sweat. Wildlife. Truth. A hard-hitting reminder of who I am when the world gets quiet.

And next time? I’m not doing it alone.

📅 July’s trip is on deck. Local floats. Northern peaks. Campfire stories and shit-talking. Sweat, stars, and a hell of a lot of laughter.

If you’ve read this far, some part of you is already packed.

For your food and some of your gear, its time you checked out one of the main suppliers of my meals.
Get your Food Supply Here!

🔥 Message me. Say “YES.” Yes to the woods. Yes to the wild. Yes to remembering who you are out there—beneath the pines, above the noise.

Let’s go find it together.