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July 2025: I started out of Yosemite Valley and sixteen days later ended on top of Mt. Whitney, with a long hike out through Whitney Portal that reminded me the end of the trail is never the end. The John Muir Trail was everything I hoped for — quiet, peaceful, beautiful, and exactly the kind of solitude I didn’t know I needed. Cathedral Lakes, Lyell Canyon, McClure Meadows, Muir Hut, Forrester Pass, Mt. Whitney — not a dud in the bunch. Every turn looked like it was pulled straight off a postcard. There was only one section that tested my will to live: the hike through Sunrise Lake, where the mosquitos were so thick they could’ve formed a union and negotiated for airspace. Still, even that had its charm — in a “maybe next time I’ll treat my cloths with a gallon of Permethrin and use Deet as cologne” kind of way. After sixteen days of dehydrated trail food and solitude, that first off-trail hamburger and fresh orange tasted like a religious experience. I spent most of the hike daydreaming about Dr. Pepper and Snickers Bars, and honestly, I think John Muir would’ve understood.

May 2025: I started my 4 day, 3-night backpack trip on Catalina Island out of Avalon Harbor — where the coffee is strong, and so is the temptation to just stay there instead of hiking 38 miles (44 if you count my “optional detours,” which I definitely do). Night one was at Hermit Gulch, and from there I wound my way to Little Harbor and then Two Harbors (nights 2 and 3). I took day trips out to Parsons Landing — beautiful, windy enough to make you question your life choices — and Starlight Beach, which, thanks to erosion, is now more of a theoretical  beach. Worth it for the miles, maybe not for the view. All told, the trail delivered everything you want in a short, proving ground, multi-day hike: great scenery, sore legs, and a humbling reminder that buffalo always have the right of way. It’s a perfect intro to solo backpacking — just remote enough to feel adventurous, but with enough amenities (and cell service) that you’re never too far from civilization or a cold drink. Would I do it again? Absolutely. Maybe next time I’ll even camp at Parsons Landing — if I can find a way to anchor my tent to the ground and  keep it from blowing into the Pacific.

July 2025: Every summer, our family migrates north to Lake Almanor for our annual Fourth of July ritual — two weeks of swimming, grilling, boating, and pretending we’re better at fishing than we actually are. The rec areas become our daytime playgrounds: swimming, tubing, and skiing until everyone’s sunburned and hangry. Evenings are for grilling, watching ospreys and bald eagles swoop over the water, and telling “the one that got away” stories that get more dramatic every year. We hiked Mount Lassen (because someone always suggests “something active”), grabbed milkshakes from the local gift shop like clockwork, and capped off nights with the kind of sunsets that make you forget the consumer, commercial-oriented world exists. The annual golf cart parade rolled through, complete with water balloons, the Star-Spangled Banner, and enough patriotic chaos to make the Founding Fathers proud. It’s not Tahoe, but that’s the point — Lake Almanor is where we hit pause on life and remember how good the simple stuff is. Family, fireworks, and a lake full of almost-caught fish and early morning glassy ski runs. Wouldn’t trade it for anything.

March 2025: I set off on an unforgettable backpacking trip to Mount San Jacinto with my Wilderness Basics Course mates. This journey was not just about trekking through mountains, but also about immersing ourselves in the stunning scenery, practicing essential outdoor skills, and connecting with nature in a meaningful way. With fresh snow carpeting the landscape, the experience was both challenging and exhilarating. Snowshoeing Through Fresh Snow Snowshoeing is a unique way to traverse winter landscapes. As we set out, each step left a crisp imprint on the untouched snow, creating a canvas of our journey. The peaks, saddles, and valleys of Mount San Jacinto were blanketed in a coat of fresh snow, which enhanced the beauty of the hike. Our group donned snowshoes that made walking easier over fresh powder. These essential pieces of gear helped distribute body weight more evenly, preventing us from "postholing". Navigating through the towering pines, glistening in the sunlight, I felt a sense of tranquility that only comes from being surrounded by nature. Practicing Map and Compass Skills The trip also presented an opportunity to hone map and compass skills. Before embarking on the hike, we gathered for a quick refresher on our navigation tools. Understanding how to read maps and use a compass is essential for any outdoor enthusiast. Armed with a topographic map of Mount San Jacinto, we identified geographical markers and tracked our progress. I felt like a kid, learning an exciting new subject in school being able to locate landmarks, namely the various peaks as everything looks very similar amongst the pines and snow. Using a map and compass to navigate through the snow-covered terrain. By using the Universal Transverse Mercator (UTM) coordinate grid readings, we could pinpoint our location accurately. This practice not only boosted my confidence but also reinforced the importance of traditional navigation skills in an age dominated by digital devices. Identifying Animal Tracks As we snowshoed along the trail, the fresh snow served as a perfect canvas for animal tracks. Every footfall told a story, and we became amateur trackers, identifying deer, fox, rabbit, and even mountain lion prints. Spotting these tracks transformed my understanding of the ecosystem surrounding Mount San Jacinto. I learned how to recognize not just the shape and depth of the tracks, but also what habitats the animals frequented. Animal tracks leading through the snow showcase the wildlife around Mount San Jacinto. This interaction with nature deepened my appreciation for the area and highlighted the delicate balance of the winter ecosystem. Examining every detail of the landscape, I was reminded of the importance of wildlife conservation and observing Leave No Trace (LNT) principles during our hike. Building a Snow Kitchen When the sun began to dip below the mountains, we reached our campsite for the night. This was a great opportunity to showcase another key skill: building a snow kitchen. A snow kitchen allows campers to prepare food in a safe and efficient manner while ensuring that our cooking habitat is set apart from our sleeping area. We started by creating a flat surface for our cooking area, ensuring it was well away from any sleeping spaces. We then dug a trench to establish a "bench and table" area. As we set up the kitchen, we collected snow for our meals, knowing that staying hydrated in the winter is just as crucial as in summer. We melted snow over our portable stoves, creating steaming cups of hot cocoa, tea, or broth while prepping a warm meal—my favorite part of any backpacking trip. Testing Snow Pack for Avalanche Potential One of the more serious aspects of winter backpacking is avalanche safety. During our trip, we performed a snowpack test to assess the stability of the snow layers. We discussed how the structure and density of the snow can impact avalanche risk. Understanding the warning signs is vital in backcountry snow environments. We measured the layers and looked for signs of weak snow. As we conducted our tests, I gained a new respect for the power of nature and the importance of understanding its many forms. Staying Warm in Sub-Freezing Conditions Sub-freezing temperatures can make or break a backpacking trip. Staying warm is not just a comfort, it’s essential for safety. Our team layered our clothing effectively, using moisture-wicking base layers, insulating mid-layers, and waterproof outer shells. Proper gear is one part of the equation; however, we also learned about creating warmth from within. During meal prep, we took turns sharing tips. One piece of advice stood out: always keep your core warm. It may seem simple, but if your core is cold, you’ll struggle to maintain warmth elsewhere. A cold night under the stars proved to be serene but chilling. Nestled in my sleeping bag, listening to the quiet of the night, I was grateful for the skills I had sharpened during the day. Appreciating Valley and Desert Views As we climbed higher, the views became more breathtaking. The ridgelines offered a unique perspective on both the valley and desert below. The contrast between the snow-covered mountains and the arid landscape was striking. Finding a vantage point on one of the ridge lines, I paused to take in the 360-degree view. The valleys stretched out far beneath us, and the sun’s rays began to paint the landscape with vibrant colors as it set. This scene reminded me why I love the outdoors: it is not just about the physical challenge but also about these breathtaking moments that renew the spirit. Emphasizing Leave No Trace Principles Throughout our journey, we maintained a steadfast commitment to LNT principles. These guidelines stress the importance of preserving natural spaces for future generations. From packing out what we packed in to filling in our various snow builds, each member of our group took the principles seriously. This dedication allowed us to enjoy an amazing experience while ensuring that our footprints don't linger in the landscapes we so deeply appreciate. In the end, the backpacking trip to Mount San Jacinto was not just a physical challenge; it was a journey into the heart of nature. From the hip flexor burning sensation of snowshoeing through fresh snow to the peacefulness of camp life, each moment was a reminder of the beauty and complexity of the great outdoors. As I clean and repack my gear for the next adventure, the memories of this trip will serve as inspiration for journeys yet to come.

February 2025: In this post, I will share my plans for this career detour, what motivated me to take this leap, and how I aim to balance adventure with quality family time. Join me as I embark on my uncharted trail into the unknown. The Motivation Behind an Accidental Sabbatical Choosing to take a break after decades of dedicated work is a significant decision. Over the years, I have invested my energy into being a "loyal/reliable" employee, believing this was the key to success and stability. However, the relentless grind of bureaucracy, inconsistency, and the perpetual need for persona shifting highlighted a critical need for balance. I realized that life isn't just about numbers and deadlines; it’s about experiences, relationships, personal growth, and mental stability. I've been presented a prime opportunity to reevaluate what truly matters. I aim to explore various activities—such as reconnecting/re-balancing my familial priorities, finding new trails (to me) to backpack/hike, investigating new investment strategies to generate passive income, brewing beer, preparing rustic food from local ingredients, or simply spending quality time outdoors (I don't care what, just give me sun and fresh air). With almost 30% of Americans reporting burnout due to work-related stress, stepping away from my recent routine to embrace new experiences feels not only refreshing, but necessary. The idea of leaving my comfort zone and immersing myself in different adventures scares me, but is liberating! Embracing Family Time As I plan my sabbatical, one of my top priorities is to spend more quality time with my family. My wife is not just beautiful; she’s my partner in crime through all of life's adventures. Our three kids, ages 7, 9, and 12, each brimming with their unique personalities, deserve my attentive presence. I envision camping trips, hikes through stunning landscapes, and simply being present during shared moments. Our Aushole Penny, with her goofy antics, will undoubtedly be part of our adventures, bringing laughter and unpredictability. I want to create unforgettable memories while teaching my kids about the joys of nature and the great outdoors. For instance, research shows that spending just 120 minutes a week in nature can significantly improve mental well-being. I plan to take this to heart by organizing family hikes, where we disconnect from technology and bond through a campfire, stargazing, and/or mosquito bites. Adventuring into the Great Outdoors As an outdoor enthusiast, I have always found solace in nature. Hiking, camping, and backpacking have served as constant sources of relief and quiet moments. Therefore, I anticipate my time away from work with involve a deep dive into the wild! I’m excited to hike mountain trails or relax at peaceful lakesides. I’ve already mapped out potential routes, checked my gear, and researched some hidden camping spots where I can fully immerse myself in our breathtaking landscapes. With over 60 national parks in the U.S. alone, the options are endless! Exploring New Passions and Hobbies Beyond spending time with family and outdoor adventures, I see this time as a chance to explore my passions. When I’m not out adventuring, I want to focus on improving my culinary skills and experimenting with cooking new dishes and brewing various beer styles. If you’ve ever tried home brewing, you know the unique satisfaction that comes with crafting your own recipes. On the other hand, I might even blend my love for cooking with my interest in smart financial tips to create a blog featuring my favorite recipes and investment advice (the AI trade remains alive and well). Additionally, I’ve realized how important mindfulness practices like yoga and running are essential for my mental health. I plan to dedicate time to these activities, improving my physical health and mental clarity. Travel Dreams: Random Adventures In addition to local escapades, travel plays a vital role in my plans. Whether it’s a weekend trip to a nearby national park or a longer journey across the ocean, I look forward to discovering new places. Traveling exposes us to diverse cultures and fresh perspectives. I aspire to take my family to less traveled destinations. For example, visiting Brian Head Utah can provide a physical wow factor that can instill an appreciation for core balance within my kids, while exploring the fresh powder of the daily ski runs. Alternatively, we may test whether brown gravy is served on French fries in Canada. I plan to document our adventures and the stories that come with them in our family blog, ensuring we preserve our treasured memories for years to come. A New Chapter Awaits Taking time away from work isn't just about time off; it’s also an opportunity for introspection, a commitment to strengthening family bonds, and a pathway for adventure and self-discovery. I look forward to every moment. Ultimately, life is about creating memories, nurturing relationships, and embracing new experiences. I hope this opportunity not only enriches my life but also inspires others to consider how they may be able to weave more joy and adventure into their journeys. As I embark on this exciting new chapter, I encourage you all to chase your own adventures, no matter how small. After all, life is too short to fret over your work email. Here ’s to living fully, and hiking your own hike! Grand Canyon April 2024

June 2025: We kicked things off on Oahu’s North Shore — two days of mostly flat waves, sunshine, and wondering why we don’t live there permanently. On day three, we hopped over to Kaua‘i and set up base in Princeville for a full week of island chaos and bliss. The days were filled with pool time, beach time, jumping off Hanalei Pier, hiking to waterfalls (and sometimes jumping off of them), and kayaking through winding canals that looked straight out show Lost. Evenings were reserved for grilling at the hotel, late-night swim parties, and occassionally cruising the rental Jeep with the top down, rain be damned. We made a sport out of counting roosters — pretty sure they outnumber people — and lived off poke bowls, spam musubi, and shave ice like haole's who’d forgotten to go home. Every night ended the same way: watching the sun sink behind Hanalei Bay while leaping off the pier ten more times, just because we could. Kaua‘i might just be the most beautiful place on earth — lush, wild, and slightly overrun with poultry. If paradise had a personality, it’d probably look a lot like this trip: adventurous, laid-back, and covered in sand, salt water, and smiles.

April 2025: This spring break was a milestone — my kids’ first time on the slopes. Day one started started slow as altitude sickness hit like a surprise test we hadn’t studied for. But by the next morning, my crew rallied like pros. We woke to fresh powder and that crisp mountain air that makes you believe you’re competing in the Olympics. After morning lessons, the boys took to snowboards, my daughter and wife strapped on skis, and I had the morning to myself — just me, the mountain, and the comforting knowledge that I could still (mostly) stay upright. We survived ski lifts, slippery stairs in clunky boots, and the occasional impromptu snow angel or snowball fight. Evenings were reserved for hot tubs, where we discovered sore muscles in places we didn’t know existed. And of course, every good adventure deserves a food ritual — ours was the local pizza joint in the town center that quickly became “our spot.” By the end of the trip, everyone had a few scrapes, a lot of stories, and a shared appreciation to mountain air. Aside from some early trip barfing, overall not a bad first family ski trip — and no one had to be airlifted out, so I’m counting it as a win.