Tag: Hiking

Yet I Will Rejoice

Yet I Will Rejoice

Brendan Scott

Well, it is safe to say that shit hit the fan this year. Schools closed on Friday March 13, all gyms, bars, and restaurants closed on March 17th, and then we found out that Carol Baskin killed her husband. Yet even as our world has crumbled around us, God has given us joy.

Joy seems a little inappropriate of a feeling to our current state. Maybe anger would be more appropriate. April and I wanted to go on a small vacation this summer, maybe a trip to Guatemala, but Covid has canceled that. Some of my favorite people ever, the seniors on this years basketball team, weren’t given a true graduation. Injustice has reared its ugly head when murders go unpunished which has caused Social unrest and has torn apart our nation. And now we are looking at opening schools back up even though it seems like Covid has gotten worse than it was in March. All of these issues stir me to fear and anxious thoughts. Yet, God wants more for us than fear and anger.

He has reminded me that He is working for me, He is working through me, and He will work within me no matter what happens. I will teach in one way or another starting in August because that is what I have been called to do and when I log in online or walk into my classroom I know God will be right by my side. I just ask that I am able to speak kindly and offer a voice of healing, hope, love, joy, and peace so that those I come into contact with know that God is for us and because of that I will rejoice!

But it was easier to rejoice last year when April and I traveled around England, Scotland, Amsterdam, and Ireland. Now I am traveling around my Kitchen, Living room, Bathroom, Bedroom, and with occasional trips to the Backyard. Okay, I have been able to go see my parents, but because they are both in a higher risk category due to their age and a couple health issues, I didn’t see them at all in April. I have also been able to go on decent social distance hikes, but for the most part because I have a small hole in my heart and I nearly died of necrotizing pneumonia five years ago, I have stayed inside. Okay, I did go to the grocery store on March 12, I needed to buy two avocados, and it was chaos. A lady rammed me with her cart because I was in front of her. Since then April has done all of the shopping, well except for the one time I went in to grab two things and noticed that no one was following the grocery store’s guidelines. I digressed a little, so now I’ll get back on point: How have I been able to find joy in my daily life as smelly things have hit the fan.

I am taking each day at a time. This has helped me sleep and let go of the anxious thoughts the world tries to force into my life. I’m alive today. I can breathe today. I can see beauty today. God is in control today and His love for me today remains as strong as it was the day before. How can I not rejoice when I remember how much I am loved. As I have been taking each day at a time I have been using the Pause App to help me refocus my thoughts and give over everything and everyone to God.

I am looking for beauty. April makes this easy as not only is she a knockout, but dang she can decorate a house. Walking from room to room is a decadent delight. I am immensely thankful for the home God as blessed me to shelter in and the fact that God has brought beauty to my life is really where the blessing resides. Also, April and I planted a garden and despite my ineptitude, things are growing. How beautiful is that! When I choose to focus on the beauty in our world, I might be able to add more beauty than chaos.

I am giving up control of my my life and because of that I can take a huge breath and relax. When I give God my desire to control my life, I can be saturated in him and live wholeheartedly. Each morning in prayer I ask God to father me in how to surrender so I may live in his freedom. This has been a true adventure because each day I tend to hop out of bed and sit down at my metaphorical command center and say engage, only for God to remind me that he is the captain of my life. Like the other morning when I woke up as the sun started poking its way in through my window. Everyone, including my dog, was still asleep, but I couldn’t force myself to fall back to sleep. Why God didn’t give us a secret turn off switch that lets us sleep, I am not sure. Or maybe he did. It’s called giving everyone and everything to him at all times. So I had to let go, be gracious to myself and about an hour later Gryffin, my dog, yelped and I was pulled from a deep sleep. That’s what it looks like to let go and when I let go I am able to live wholeheartedly. Living wholeheartedly means I choose to live in love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Fruit of the spirit). Life in these is a life full of freedom and joy.

I am looking through all my pictures from our trip to amazing trip God blessed us with to Europe. When April and I landed in London I was so anxious about if I would be able to sleep or not, I was nearly sure that insomnia would ruin my trip. Yet, God stepped in and told me to let go. After recovering from jet lag, I slept well all month long. Memories from that trip have been keeping me going. Yet, a year ago this week April and I were in Edinburgh and Amsterdam. It rained the entire time we were in Scotland and the temperatures were over 100 degrees in Amsterdam. We hiked up Arthur’s Seat in Edinburgh and it was so crowded it nearly stole my joy. But now, as I checked my Facebook memories from the trip, I saw the picture of us from Arthur’s seat and my caption said, “It’s good to remember that not every day needs to be epic or even 100% enjoyable.” With that mindset I can remember that God took me to castles, dungeons, awesome houses, shire-like country sides, amazing churches, insane cliffs, and beautiful canals and he will take me on an adventure again. As I look back over those pictures, I am reminded of how God provided for me and I know I will be able to travel again, but for now, I will rest in the beauty he has set right in front of me.

Lastly, I have decided that my heart matters. I am in full control over what goes into my heart. So I have been spending less time on social media. In February at the start of Lent, I gave up social media, and it was freeing, but since the month of April I have been back on, and well, we seem to be a society that loves to stir up hate and anger. If you disagree with me about this statement you might as well unfollow me (just kidding, but how many times have you seen that statement on Facebook?). Because my heart matters, and it helps control how I act and react to all that is going on in the world, I want to feed my heart beauty because that brings me joy so I am not interacting with people after a certain hour. If I jump onto any of my social media platforms later than usual, I typically just go to look at my picture history so God can remind me of the beauty he has for me. Instead of spending time on social media, I have been walking my dog, reading with my nephew Linc through FaceTime, having a weekly book club with my friend Holland Webb, and April and I have been watching all the Hitchock and James Bond movies we can come across.

These five things are life savers because our world is crazy, but they are only a start. And the best starting place is to knowing I am a man who can choose to rejoice in all times because I have a God who saves!

All Who Wander

Brendan Scott

 

“Dad, you know the Tolkien quote,” I started hesitantly.  My dad and I were about 45 minutes into our hike up to Lake Johnson and the trail had just vanished in an open meadow.

“Yeah, the one where Frodo sings, ‘The Road Goes Ever on and on, Down from the door where it began.  Now far ahead the Road has gone, And I must follow, if I can, Pursuing it with weary feet, Until it joins some larger way, Where man paths and errands meet.  And wither then?  I cannot say.'”

Fortunately my dad did not sing, but unfortunately he’d said the wrong quote.  “No, Tolkien says, ‘not all who wander are lost.'”

“Yeah,” answered my dad.

“We’re wandering and we’re lost.”  Roads might go ever on, but ours was dead in the grass, consumed in the wild.  And if we wandered much longer, my 40 pound pack was going to be the death of me.

Can You Find Your Way To Lake Johnson?

My dad pulled out his map and I plopped off my backpack.  It looked like the trail was supposed to be leading to the West, but the fire road we’d tried after the original trail petered out was going East.  But neither of us are expert map readers and each time I tried to decipher the counter lines and trail dots my head spun. After a brief discussion about what we should do, I walked ahead, sans my pack, to check and see what was ahead.  The path vanished again, only to reappear a little higher up the hill.  After five minutes I knew this was no good.

We turned around and tried a trail that cut a sharp edge up the mountain.  Sadly, as promising as this trail seemed, it was the wrong one.  An hour and a-half in to what was supposed to be a 12 mile hike, my dad turned us back around and walked us back to the trailhead.

It was annoying to be back at the start, but I didn’t want to wander around and not reach Lake Johnson, so I followed.

Tolkien’s words repeating in my head, “All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost.”  There are things unseen in the seen world, which I believe is a key part of Living Spiritually.  If I take everything for face value, I’ll miss the grand adventure God has for me.  Unfortunately, I didn’t want to see the deeper meaning of wandering.  I just wanted to be on the correct trail and to see my friends.

Maybe what the quote is really saying is, the point of life is in the journey, not just the destination.  Maybe we can wander if our goal isn’t the destination, but loving the moments we are in while we are wandering and feeling lost.

I took a deep breath and placed one foot in front of the other.  Quickly the trailhead slid behind us.  The sun was hot and my mood was still low.  We turned left at the fork in the trail, which meant taking the trail up to Stewart Lake instead of Lake Johnson.  We knew the trails should meet up, but that hadn’t been our plan.

As I moved mindlessly over the ground, passing Aspen trees and beautiful meadows filled with wildflowers, a quote from Jack Kerouac sprang to mind.  “Try the meditation of the trail, just walk along looking at the trail at your feet and don’t look about and just fall into a trance as the ground zips by . . . Trails are like that: you’re floating along in a Shakespearean Arden paradise and expect to see nymphs and fluteboys, then suddenly you’re struggling in a hot broiling sun of hell in dust and nettles and poison oak . . . just like life.”

Keep your head down and just keep going, I thought.

With my eyes glued to the trail I smacked head first into my dad’s pack.  He’d stopped for some reason.  “Hey!” said a familiar voice.  It was Philip, my friend we were hiking up to see.  He was on his way down the trail to pick up his brother from the airport.  He’s no nymph, but seeing him was very other worldly.  I’d felt lost and dejected as I hauled my pack up the trail, but he confirmed that we were going the correct way and that we’d see him the next day at camp.

Kerouac is dead wrong, I countered.  I can’t live life with my eyes closed to the magical world around me.  I don’t want to glide along until the trail ends or my life is over.  I want to keep my eyes open, even if what I see let’s me down.  Even if I get lost along the way.  After running in to Philip the trail opened up and the hike became easier.  And definitely prettier.

And so the road went ever on, to Stewart Lake and then to Lake Johnson.  My dad was right, though we were lost, we were still on the same road that led out of our front door, we were connected to the greater adventure along the way.  And while we hiked, I kept my eyes open and saw covey of grouse, Indian Paintbrushes, and a friend who I hadn’t seen in several years.

Tolkien is right, not all who wander are lost.

 

My Adventure up Mt. Elbert

Brendan Scott

The Wakeup Call

“Good morning, Sally.  I’ll be right out.  I just woke up and I need to shower.”  It was 3:44am and my brain was having a hard time registering the voice at the other end of the phone.  The caller ID said, “Sally,” but it sure sounded like a man.  “We’ll wait for you outside,” replied Cliff Hutchison.

Fortunately, I had packed all of my gear the night before, which made waking up five minutes before the estimated departure time a little easier.  It’s still not a great idea to wake up minutes before driving three hours into the mountains for a hike, especially Mt. Elbert.

The Mountain

Located in Lake County about 10 miles southwest of Leadville, Colorado in the Sawatch Range, Mt. Elbert climbs all the way up to 14,433 feet tall, but I’ve heard unofficially that it is 14,440.  Either way, it’s the tallest mountain in Colorado, and the second tallest in all of the continental United States, making it a formable hiking foe.

The Trailhead

My alarm’s little stunt didn’t slow us down.  We made it all the way from Denver to the Half Moon trailhead in two hours.  Showered in golden sunlight, our feet hit the trail at 6:30am.  We’d been warned not to start later than 5:30 if we wanted to summit before 12.  It’s always a good idea to summit before noon, because after noon the weather can get really crappy.  However, being young and strong and athletic and confident and amazing, we didn’t listen to that advice.

The Trail

The Northeast Ridge trail of Mt. Elbert is listed on 14ers.com as an easy hike.  I think what they mean by easy is at no point do you have to scale the cliffs of insanity, swim through eel infested waters, or battle R.O.U.S’s.  

The hike might be easy to the avid hiker, but if you haven’t hiked a 14er before, or if you don’t hike much, I would suggest not starting out with Mt. Elbert.  He’s a beast of a mountain.  We took the standard route, which starts you out on the Colorado Trail.  Taking this route will only give you a 4,700 feet of elevation gain.  Easy.

The Wind

The only bad part about the day, other than my alarm trying to keep me from breathing the thinnest air in Colorado, was the wind.  Zane, the only one on our team who had hiked Mt. Elbert before had said something like, “you can’t even feel the wind up at the top because the air is so thin.”  However, on our way up the trail, through the pine trees that dot their way along the Colorado Trail, the wind bit at our noses.  Even though the first part of the trail was steep, we all trekked on together.  Hiking is more fun when you have a group to traverse and converse with.

We split up a little once we made it past tree-line, which is where the wind got really nasty.  AJ, our youngest hiker, and his dad made it a little more than half way, but decided not to summit.  I’m guessing because the wind was too much.

“That Zane Gordon is full of . . .” The wind blew Andrew’s words away.  Andrew is a giant of a man, and as we climbed past the first false summit even his six foot seven inch frame bowed to the power of the wind.  With the wind pushing against us, we kept trudging further up and further in.

The False Summits

As bad as the wind was, the worst part of the hike were the false summits, which were demoralizing.  My body had geared up for the finish, I’d even started to push a little harder because I knew I was almost done.  But then I came to the crest of the peak and the mountain had grown, we’d reached the first false summit.  Mt. Elbert is the tallest peak in Colorado for a reason.

As the rest of our team pushed for the summit I noticed Andrew and Tim slowing down.  I’ve climbed a couple big peaks and know that there’s no shame in slowing down, not sprinting up to the top (the word sprint used here to mean walked uphill at a steady gate).

Sticking with Andrew and Tim was the best part of hiking.  I came on the trip to hike with my friends, rather than coming to take off and reach the summit all by myself.  As we slowed down I kept track of time so we would not miss our window of opportunity to reach the summit before the wind blew in the bad weather.

What I didn’t realize was that the mountain was playing tricks on us.  As we crested the second false summit, I could tell my estimated time of arrive was way off.  At the speed we were going we had another hour at least.

Undeterred, I picked out rocks a good distance ahead of us, setting that as our goal to reach before we took our next break.  At each rock I encouraged Tim and Andrew, reminding them that they were doing a great job. Rock by rock we inched closer to the summit.  Or the third false summit.

I was annoyed.  I wanted to reach the top, be able to take pictures as a group, but I also wanted to take a break.  My legs were burning almost as much as my lungs.

I was also sick of criss-crossing with other hikers.  Passing them only to be re-passed.  As we stood at the top of the third false summit, looking up at the real peak, I looked at Andrew and Tim and said “lets go!”  I wanted this hike done.

The Summit

When I thought I couldn’t climb any higher, I was there.  Summiting was a glorious experience.  I reached the top of Colorado and quickly found shelter from the wind.  Not long after, Tim set foot on the summit, with Andrew just behind.  As the two topped off Colorado’s highest peak I jumped up from my spot tucked away from the wind to give them high fives.  Both guys shouted with joy, which wasn’t very loud because it takes having air in your lungs to shout.  Andrew was nearly in tears.  He said this about his experience of summiting, “I felt like I was a zombie.  My legs were moving mindlessly as if something were pulling me, compelling me to reach the summit.”  I guess zombiemode is more than when someone becomes a brain eater.

I really enjoyed my own summit, but I felt true joy watching Andrew and Tim make it to the top of Mt. Elbert.  I was filled with joy because Andrew had worked so hard to climb to the top.  Hiking with friends should feel like that.

On our way down we talked about how hard the climb was.  None of us liked the false summits or the wind, but we agreed that those hardships just made the actual summit that much sweeter.  The whole hike was sweet, because it was hard and we achieved a difficult goal with friends.

Not an R.O.U.S.

How to Teach And Not Be Bored To Death

Brendan Scott

School Can Be A Bore!

Everyone knows learning the difference between bor., boar, boor, and bore can be a complete bo . . . wait which one is it?  Wait can you explain the Hawley-Smoot Teriff Act?  Anyone, anyone?

Why do you think Ferris skipped school?

You know you’ve been in this class.  We’ve all struggled to stay awake as the professor drooned on and on, our eyes taped open in a futile attempt to remain conscious.  Sadly, once I started teaching I realized it’s not just the student’s who struggle through boring classes.

As a teacher, a teacher who was teaching said boring class, even I struggled at times to stay awake.

During my first year of teaching, quite a few of my classes were boring.  Can’t believe I just admitted that.  The worst was my current events class.  (I know a couple of students who would argue, not to say it was an exciting class, filled with the days most exciting news, but to say one of my other classes was worse.) I didn’t even enjoy listening to my students report on whatever big news story they’d found while scouring the web five minutes before class.

You know why it was boring?  It bored me and my students to tears because I didn’t put much effort into it.

I was a new teacher, I didn’t know any better.

Teaching Takes Trying

That next semester I decided to try something different.  If teaching something I found boring made for a boring class, then why not teach something I enjoyed.  (I know not everyone has this ability, Math teachers have to teach Math) I chose outdoor education.  I had grand plans for this class.  I wanted to take my students on hikes.  I wanted them to love hiking, like I love hiking.

But how can that be taught?

First I bought a book.  Had them sit in a classroom.  Gave them the information from the book.  And then I ran into the same problem I’d had before, boredom.

I was teaching the class wrong.  Not that there isn’t a time and place for books and the classroom, but I found out that if I was going to pass on a love for the outdoors I had to take the kids outside.

I showed them how to set up a tent.  We identified the clouds.  We even talked about going camping.  The class improved, but it still wasn’t that good.  We still weren’t hiking.  And camping was a no go.

Three years later the kids who were in that class still complain that we never did any of the things I promised them we’d do.  But what they don’t know is, inside the classroom I couldn’t show them my love for hiking.

A Good Teacher Tackle’s His Students

Teaching doesn’t always happen at school or inside the classroom. Most of the time teaching doesn’t even require books or tests.

Hands down my favorite class to teach was my middle school gym class because I loved the subject matter and most of the time I got to participate.  The boys loved it for many reasons, but they especially enjoyed our unit on American football (remember I was in Guatemala) they got to tackle me.  I loved it because they loved it, and I got to tackle them.  (This would never work in the states, but playing football with your students is a great way to get out your frustration.)

We built connections by playing a game together.  Anytime they tackled me I would congratulate them and they would ask my why I was crying. (I wasn’t)  Playing football with the boys allowed me to be personal with them.

They learned by watching my actions and following my lead.  Now, none of those boys will make it to the NFL, but all of them know more about football than any of their Guatemalan Neighbors.

They learned through experiencing.

Teaching isn’t about how boring or how exciting a class is.  No, it’s about growing and changing.

I finally put that to practice with hiking.  I knew that if the boys loved playing football when I played with them, they would love hiking if I took them.

A Good Teacher Takes A Hike

During my last year in Guatemala I took the majority of my students on hikes up La Muela, my favorite hike in Xela.

On our hikes up the dead volcano I would ask them what they wanted to do with their lives.  I would challenge them to try harder in their classes.  I spent most of the time on the hikes listening to what was going on in their lives.  I think they needed to know someone cared for them.  Kids need someone in their lives that let’s them know that they’re important.  Parents can do that, but at a point in every teenager’s life they stop listening to their parents.

I also shared bits of my life story, they listened and let me know they cared.  While hiking built healthy relationships.

I miss hiking with them more than almost anything in Xela.  I know that they love the hike too, because, since I moved back to the states, they’ve continued to hike.

And sure enough, when I was in Guatemala last March I took a group of kids up La Muela.  They wanted to go.  They took me to places on the dead volcano I’d never been.  As we stood at the summit, looking down on Xela, one of the boys, who’d grown up in Xela, right next to La Muela, looked at me and said, “I love hiking.  I can see why you love Xela too.”  Pleased, I felt like a success.

My teaching methods might not be conventional, but I believe the best way to pass on information, especially the type I am passionate about, is to form relationships and go hiking.

Brendan verses La Muela

Brendan Scott

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La Muela sits outside of Xela (Quetzaltenango, Guatemala) like a giant molar waiting to grind out puny little hikers like raw meat.  During the dry season, a hike up to La Muela, which isn’t the summit of the actual mountain, but the main destination for day hikers and therefore I refer to it as the summit from here on out, is a quick but challenging trek that offers a beautiful view of the city.  During the rainy season, hiking La Muela is a completely different monster.  It is best to start the hike early in the morning, as the skies can almost be guaranteed to dump rain anywhere from 12 o’clock on.

On tuesday the 7th, my plan was to start climbing early so I could avoid the rain.  I had invited some of my students along and had asked them to be at my house at 9 am.  Maybe I should have asked them to be there earlier.  Only Hugo showed up at 9, but I wasn’t too worried, Guatemalans are typically late and I was following Michael Slocker’s (my brother-in-law) statuses on facebook, because Katie, my sister, was at the hospital about to give birth to Lincoln, their second child!!!

Finally by 10 o’clock everyone arrived and I was pulled away from my computer scene.  I only found out later that my nephew was born at 7 pounds 7 ounces.  He’s going to be a John Elway fan for sure!  As we headed out of the house I should have pushed my fellow hikers, Jose Pab (otherwise known as Little Pablito), Sani, Skyy, Marcos, Skippy, Hugo, Juan, and Dani (the only girl to brave the trek), to take a taxi up to the beginning of the trail, but the boys wanted to hike the entire trail, which includes a good section on the road out of Xela up to Almolonga (an outlying town).  Cars speed up and down this steep road, but the boys ran up it with a fearless attitude only boys seem to have.  Dani kept telling me that I was trying to kill her.  So we hailed a taxi as soon as we saw one, which wasn’t very soon.  He charged us an exorbitant amount, for the distance he took us, but it was worth it.  I could tell Dani didn’t want to walk up that road much further.  Most of the boys decided to hike the entire way, so we waited for them where the dirt trail leaves the cobbled road.

We pushed our way up past the random soccer field that sits at 9,000 some odd feet and then climbed up the rocks that would soon be slick with rain.  As we climbed higher, the clouds dropped lower.  Shortly before noon we were enveloped in a cloud, it was dry, but I could tell the rain was on its way.  As the cloud draped itself around us, several of the kids mentioned how it made them feel like we were on the moon.  I felt more like I was on a volcanic adventure.  In fact the rocks that make up La Muela used to be part of a volcano, which exploded, littering the terrain with giant volcanic rocks.  We were in a different world than the one we’d hiked out of a couple hours before.  We’d left behind houses and busy streets.  We were now all alone.  Just us and nature.  The cloud made it feel like God wasn’t even there.

But we climbed higher and the cloud drifted away.  Like children freed from the watchful gaze of their parents we clambered up toward the summit of the molar.  The tip of La Muela is a sharp volcanic rock that juts toothlike up into the sky.  Often Mayan worshipers can be found offering sacrifices at this tooth like structure.  They climb from grass to boulders to the tooth to reach the top.  On the 7th we didn’t climb to the top to offer any sacrifices to the Mayan gods, yet I wasn’t sure with the thunder growing louder that we might be sacrificed anyway.

“Let’s get out of here,” shouted a couple of the kids as thunder cracked right above us.  “NO, I need a picture to prove we were here,” I replied as I scrambled to the sharp summit.  We snapped our pictures and began our descent.   To make it down from the summit rock climbing skills are required.  Some of the kids were a little nervous about this part of the hike.  I made sure I stayed right behind them and showed each where to place their hands and feet.  I love helping people challenge themselves so they can reach goals they never thought possible.

Climbing down off of the summit was hard, but all of them made it.  And I think because they challenged themselves they now know they can do more than they thought they could before.

As I stepped down from the rock we’d all just descended the rain started.  It started slowly but it was consistent, making the rocks as slick as a Guatemalan politician’s hairdo.  While we were off of the summit we weren’t down yet.  The rocks bellow the summit almost form a rigid crown around the molar creating a natural burier.
We decided to continue our descent through a small hole in one of the rocks in the burier.  Normally I go around the burier, but the kids wanted an adventure, so we ducked down between the small opening in the rocks.  I had forgotten that going through this crack was a bit trickier than the way we had ascended.  Skippy, Dani, and I made it through the crack, but the other boys backed out.  Skyy, Hugo, and Juan and flat-out disappeared and I had told the other boys, Marcos, Pab, and Sani, to descend the way we had hiked up, which would mean they would meet us on the other side of the crack, but as soon as I made it through the crack I realized they had not followed my instructions.  So as quickly as possible I leapt back up the wet rocks to find where the boys were.   As I reached the place I had last seen them I realized that Marcos’s group had followed Skyy, Hugo, and Juan.  I spotted them bellow going in the opposite direction from which I had told them.  I shouted down to them through the rain to come back up and follow me, but they refused.  Wet and needing to go help Dani and Skippy I told them to meet us at the soccer field.

Hikes always go awry as soon as people split up.  I knew things could spin out of control if I wasn’t careful.  Fortunately Dani, Skippy, and I made it to the soccer field safely.  Sani, Pab, and Marcos sauntered out of the woods opposite of us about 10 minutes later.  Relief.  We called Skyy to find out where they were on the mountain.  “Oh, we’re already almost home,” replied Skyy calmly.  We stood perplexed.  How did they make it down so quickly.  We made our way down to the road in the rain and waited for Susan, Skyy’s mom, to pick us up so we wouldn’t have to walk for another hour in the rain.

As I stood under the cover of a little tienda, near the trail-head, waiting out the rain, I started thinking about how much I am going to miss these adventures.  My hikes up La Muela have made the mountain familiar, yet each time it surprises me with a new fun challenge, like hiking it in the rain with a group of crazy kids.  Although, I think the kids challenged me more than the rain.  That’s why I am going to miss the relationships I have forged over the last three years more than the hikes.  As I have spent time with them, inside and outside the classroom, they have challenged me to become a better teacher and friend.  Hopefully these friendships will last as long as the mountain we climbed.  The rocks may move during each earthquake, and it’s rather scary when they do (I know from experience, but that’s another story), but I know these friendships will last the next shake up in my life.

Dear Anastasia

Brendan Scott

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I was in the 7th grade when you bounded into my life.  You were a Christmas gift to my older sister.  She’d been begging for a dog, but she never loved you the way I have.  It’s not her fault.  She didn’t know that she wasn’t a dog person at that point.  But I do know she loved the way you cocked your head when you were listening to something.  She needed your love and she loved you the best she could, but when she left for college she gave you to me.  She’s always given me good gifts and you were the best gift she’s ever given to me.  And from that point on you’ve always been my dog.  Right by my side, at least until the television turned off and then you bolted for bed.

When you were little you would jump up on top of the fence post next to the house and wait for us to come home.  I wish you could be there waiting for when I fly back in June.

I am going to miss our hikes up into the crisp mountains behind our house in Edwards.  The way you would sprint ahead and then sprint back to check up on me.  The dirt kicked off your feet like a small tornado.  Yet, you always had time to sit and wait with me and let me pet you.  I will not be able to hike up through the aspen’s on East Lake Creek Trail with out thinking of you.  I think maybe, you loved that hike more than I did.  You used to go crazy when we would mention the word hike.  After your leg injury, which I am still sorry about, I loved how you would try your hardest to jump into the back of the Pathfinder and then yelp when we would help you make it up the rest of the way.  You still wanted to do things on your own.

I am going to miss how you would nudge my elbow in the mornings so I would pet you while I ate breakfast.  Let’s face it, you could never be petted enough.  I love how you loved to be loved.  You would lick a guy to death just to say I love you in your own little way.

You were always a puppy at heart.  Even when you lost all the hair on your tale and didn’t have any energy, you still loved to jump on command.  And after we started giving you medications for your thyroid and your hair grew back, it was as if you grew 5 years younger in a week.  I think you became addicted to the cheese we gave you the medicine in.  Why else would you jump for medicine?  Even this summer when we went up to the flat tops people asked me if you were a puppy.  And you smiled and wagged your tale.  Your beauty has lasted beyond your sicknesses and your weird behavior.  Even when you ate some of my clothes and I caught you red mouthed, you were still cute.

I am going to miss how you greeted me with that warm smile of yours every time you saw me.  And how big that smile was when I drove all the way up to Wyoming to pick you up.  You jumped when you saw me.  I jumped too.  Stasia, I wouldn’t drive 16 hours in one day for many other reasons.  Even after you woke me up at 5am on New Years Day having pooped all over my room.  You were sheepish and I was mad, but I cleaned it up and I forgave you.  Then you did it again the very next morning at the very same time.  You couldn’t ever figure out how to bark just to let me know you needed to go.  Yet, I love you still.  You have been my dog and my friend.  You may have kept me up and night with your snores, strange dreams, and worse smells, but I wouldn’t trade those memories for anything.

I know that I haven’t been around much over the past few years.  My job has taken me out of the country.  And it is hard living so far away from the ones I love.  I have missed my fair share of family events, weddings and birthdays.  But not being there to say goodbye and seeing you go is by far the hardest.  Living down here in Guatemala has had it’s fair share of rewards.  I have a special bond with my students.  I hope they know I love them, but it is still very hard to live and work down here when you are sick back home and I am missing you.

I will love you always,

Your pal, Brendan