How This All Started

Two months in a hospital bed in 2010 and what came out of it? My website and Drop In TV. Not too bad eh? Laying in a bed that long, i had time to think. Crazy i only turned the TV on four or five times the entire duration too. I pondered the meaning of my tiny little life here on this Earth and what i realized is that i am here to live an adventure. We all are. That's it. Hopefully, i can stoke YOU out doing it too. I want to travel the world doing fun rad shit and share it with YOU. Originally i thought i would just blog my adventures, but why not make it a show? Enter Drop In TV. The producers of MTV's The Buried Life bought into my passion and here we are shooting the pilot of an expedition to Bloody Couloir this spring!

Lets rewind. Bloody Couloir to me was nothing. I had never heard of it. I had never thought of it. Then, one gorgeous spring day, a couple of my close friends climbed it, enjoyed a peaceful picnic at the peak and skiied it.

"Hm...i kinda want to do that."

Then they did it again...and i started to feel left behind.

"I want to ski and go on this adventure with my friends. How can i get up there?"

Its too steep and remote for snowmobile or mule. Too jagged to land a helicopter.

"You gotta climb it, dude."

"Well, if i'm going to climb it, i'm sure as hell not making my friends carry me."

I don't want to be the first sitskier to do anything. I just want to do this with my friends, eat a pb&j sandwhich at the top and i don't want them to feel like they need to get me there. I don't want to be left behind any longer.

You see, i've got arms. I can get anywhere. It might take a while, but physically, i can get there. I learned that this summer when i left my chair behind trying to figure out the most efficient and duplicatable method of crossing the sand to the waters edge. Climbing Bloody is a little more complicated, but in my mind, the same concept. Just getting from Point A to Point B. Have you seen the movie The Wall: The Journey Up? If not, see it. Steve Wampler has Cerebral Palsy and climbs El Cap. I cried though the entire thing. Unreal. He motivated me. I will climb Bloody. This i know.

OK we've established i'm going to climb it, but what about skiing it? This peak is no joke. 2,600' vert, 43 degree average pitch... rated one of the 50 Classic Ski Descents in North America. Right now, i'm not ready for it and i need to do some serious training before i ski this thing. Its just the first 100 yards or so that are gnarly really and i know i have the skill set. Its just mental. I get freaked in stuff that steep. When it all goes down though, it might not be pretty, but I'll get down.

So here we are documenting my training for the trip up. We're talking 2600 pullups...probably the most physically demanding task of my life...and i need to prepare my little body. Not only my muscles but my heart and lungs too. Swimming, cycling, climbing, paddling, weight training...all while being very mindful of what my body needs to sustain such a regimen. Nutrition is key and i gotta recommend Conscious Nutrition to anyone who cares about their well being. The key: let your body tell you what it wants...and that makes all the difference.

Also, i'm learning the importance of rest. My body can't do what it needs to do without recovering fully after each workout. I'm learning to slow down, which is hard for me sometimes. Otherwise, i tear things down too much and I'm definitely paying the price for too many years of not understanding this. I'm in the market for some magic thumbs under my shoulder blades. I.E. free bodywork. Anyone? Bueller?

In filming all this though, i can't even come close to sharing the validation i feel to have amazingly talented professionals adopt my passion and my ideas and run with them. These guys drive long distances and spend long hours working diligently on something i conjured up in a hospital bed. And here we are! This thing has become bigger than me now and i'm just along for the ride. Hopefully you are too.

Let's let go of everything holding us back and DROP IN!

Doin What i Love

I got the call...or rather the text...that we were on for shooting in just two days. I'm learning that's how things work in this biz. Everything is last minute and you squeeze it all into one day. Since the content of the shooting right now is my training, for me, that meant surfing, paddling, working out and swimming all in one day. This was almost a week ago now and i'm still recovering, feeling the after affects of an insane day...and for an insane person to call a day insane tells you how beyond normal perception the level of exertion had to be.

The producers showed up at my place not early but not late, about mid morning. We discussed the plan, they played around with the equipment (which the technology of blows my mind) and we began shooting promptly. First priority on the shot list was surfing and everything involved, so after a few life b-roll shots, they captured me loading my big ass board into my 4-Runner and we were down at the beach pretty quickly. The day before, the surf was overhead and the dark sky swirled around. Now, not even 24 hours later, the small surf gently lapped the shore and the sun warmed everything. Much different. Not exciting surf conditions, but perfect light for our project.

Now, i can get my board to and from the water completely solo, but it doesn't happen very often. On a given day, i show up at the beach and 90% of the time some benevolent stranger grabs my board for me. That's the beauty of Cardiff...the people. This day, although i was surrounded by film crew, we were documenting my lone plight to and from the water so no help whatsoever. Depending on the tide, getting down to the water involves a few hundred bar dips. Now, add weight. Dragging the board is a whole other ball game. Especially, when i get down to the sticky wet sand. Like i said, i got this. No big deal, but in a given day that's it. I do that and i'm done. Hot shower, lunch and maybe a nap. No cycling, pull-ups and swimming after. This day meant all the above. You see where this is heading?

The water always feels refreshing at first touch. It covers my hands as i maneuver over the sand and instant excitement always rushes through me no matter what the conditions. I love the ocean. This session was fun and mellow. Small playful waves and the comforting warmth of the sun making it all that much nicer. A telephoto lens on the shore and a waterproof camera at the break captured it all. Even my first little lipper i've ever done since sitting down out there. My roommate and i took off on a waist high right together and as it closed out between us i thought 'I want to put my board up on that lip.' So i did. I bottom turned, propelled my board up the wave and the crashing whitewater rebounded me back into it. After the reentry, the left reformed and i rode it almost all the way to the sand smiling. My first lipper as a butt boarder. It feels good to be getting better.

We shot some paddling, some wipe outs in the shore break and then the hike back up the beach. I feel like a sea turtle inching along. Only i don't have any eggs to lay, just a seriously large board and an unshakeable resolve to get from point A to B regardless. After a hot shower and lunch it was time to head to the gym. Physically, i was spent already, but didn't say anything. This had to be done.

The first shots at the the gym were of the stationary hand bike. I love this thing. Honestly, i call it the lab rat cycle. That's how i feel. Everyone stares and the fluorescent light blares down. Its not inspiring to me, but it is my version of a pure workout. I always talk about the simplicity of throwing on running shoes and heading out the door. That's beauty and i miss it sometimes. Everything involves massive gear and a shit load of preparation, except this. I roll up and start cranking. Simplicity returns.

Now, the director wanted me red faced, sweating and grunting so although i wasn't supposed to get a workout doing this, we turned up the intensity to get it right. After 25 minutes or so, they got the shots and i got tired. Next came pull-ups. Yikes. "Really guys?" Yes, this was happening. After 50 or so pull-ups they got the shots and i wanted to collapse into a little ball in my mommy's lap, but did my best to keep my composure. I might have been tired, but i has happy. Stoked as could be filming what i believe to the purpose for my little life here on this Earth. Fueled by passion, i gritted my teeth and we headed out to the pool to film some laps. I had a little left in the tank still.

At first, i was disappointed because it was now late in the day, the sun was setting and i felt the light was no longer good. Not only that, but the pool was full of people and commotion and i thought the producers would be bummed. A water polo game, shrill whistles, crowd noise, an obnoxious father, swim lessons, lap swimmers, nervous mothers, old men in speedos, lifeguards switching shifts...it all seemed overwhelming, but once the pool lights flicked on the shot became me doing my thing at all hours in the midst of it all. Brilliant.

One producer was in the water with me and i felt as if we were dancing. We've shot together quite a bit now and work really well together. He bosses me around and i like it. No questions. No bullshit. I get clear direction from him and know exactly what he wants. He doesn't need to make it flowery and nice for me and i respect that. This was different though. We were in the silent water passing smoothly within millimeters seamlessly anticipating the other's intentions. I loved it. I'm not gonna lie though. My left arm did not like it. It got very angry and was screaming at me to stop. This was very close to my threshold. By the time we finished, i could barely lift myself out of the pool and the hot tub never felt better.

From there, the crew setup a makeshift studio at my place where we collected some VOs and filler shots. A hot spicy chai giving me a slightly rejuvenated edge, just enough caffeine to be dynamic in front of the camera despite my affliction with a nearly comatosed state.

All-in-all, the day was a success and i'm excited to see the teaser edit when its all finished. It should gain tons of support for the Drop In Project. To read more check out www.facebook.com/dropinproject. Like it if you like it and spread the word.

Thanks for being interesting and staying interested. Ski ya later!

Cardiff-by-the-Sea

My summer began in June when i decided to sleep in my buddy's garage in Cardiff, a bustling little surfer town in North County San Diego. We arranged his things, hung sparkly wall coverings and put down a nice rug to make it more homey, homie. Of course, this ambienced shed had an ocean view and a bathroom. Niice!!! I could urinate and look at the ocean. Many sleepy afternoons were spent watching whales pass by in the distance without even lifting my head from the pillow. Pretty damn sweet spot...even for a garage.

The shower was being used as storage though, so for the first month or so, i showered at the beach, gym and friends houses. Sometimes i would sneak into the campground across the PCH after the guards left for the night for a quick rinse. Remove the shower from your house and guaranteed any fresh water hitting your body feels ten times better. Funny how taking something so simple away creates so much appreciation for it. I try to imagine my life without things like that once in awhile...running water, a refrigerator, my car, legs...just to remind myself to be thankful. I forget. We all do.

Garage or not, i lived the dream this summer...surfing almost every day, enjoying the sun, surviving on nothing and simply bouncing from moment to moment. What a life! I figured out how to get across the sand solo with my big ass board and that changed everything. I could now just go surfing without texting and tweeting and facebooking and harrassing everyone in sight to help me. Autonomy.

This is a monumental transition for me which i can only just begin to explain. Surfers will somewhat understand because they know the power of the ocean...especially if they've grown up with her...but the depth of the pain while sitting and watching is unexplainable. The ocean called and i was driven to answer. The difference this summer? I opened my mind.

It's a matter of simple physics. Wheels and sand don't mix. Now, all of a sudden, fighting to push my chair through the sand and thinking i needed some expensive elaborate contraption or a grueling piggyback ride from a tired friend became obsolete with a simple, yet powerful, thought. Why does any place need to be "wheelchair" accessible? I have arms. I can get anywhere i want to. Why does my chair need to go? A seemingly simple concept, but for some reason i was blind to it for ten years. So i left my chair behind...and my life changed.

A couple very simple devices changed everything too. A minimalist wheelie cart got my big ass board from the car to the sand and a quick releasable fin enabled me to drag it through the sand and paddle out from the shallows. Thats it. I'm surfing solo.

I kind of lost sight of things for a little while there, but the ocean runs through my veins and a hug from her reminds me of who i'm meant to be. Being close to her this summer brought me home. What a summer! Do what you love.

To Blog or Not to Blog

What? No cool pictures? What the heck?

i know. i hear you.

In all honesty, i love the recognition of sharing photos and stories of myself living the adventure, doing things that most for some reason do not. It feels good. However, that is not why i share. i use the most powerful tool at our disposal (social media) to somehow spark a glimpse of inspiration in the masses...in you. Not that you necessarily need it, or that i'm "special" or "worthy" in any way, but that is the underlying motivation for sharing because simply being exposed to someone else's initiative, regardless of whatever his or her set backs may be (because we all have something holding us back) seems to naturally ignite the same initiative in ourselves. The key word is 'initiative' because the tendency to choose comfort over adventure is in us all. Well, it comes to me in all decisions in every day life and i can only assume we all face the same propensity. Some days are easier. Some are more difficult. i go through fazes myself, but when i do find myself choosing The Adventure (let's give it a fun name), i find my friends choosing it with me. It is contagious and for some reason, sometimes we need a little kick to get out of bed earlier or go for that run in the rain so hopefully my strong days procreate something that helps someone in their day of struggle and vise versa.

Consequently, i share those exciting moments with you and relish in the cursory benefit of your figurative applause, but have balked at doing this blog thing more because i fail to find my "real" life important enough to share. Everyone seems to have a blog these days, writing to the cloud of perpetual non subscribers, and so far i have not deemed anything "unsensational" in my life as any differnt. Although many have asked for it, an effort to build familiarity with my voice and ritiualistically rev your engine on my writing to build anticipation for the release of my books, you can see my last blog came out over five months ago. The culprit: my ego and the prototypical insecurities. When considering sharing more, these types of thoughts arise: "You have nothing to offer,""You are not the man you say you are," and "Why would anyone care anyway?" So, i find comfort in the words of William Zinsser:

"There are many good reasons for writing your memoir that have nothing to do with being published. One is to leave your children and grandchildren a record of who you were and what heritage they were born into. Please get started on that; time tends to surprise us by running out."

Am i worthy of a blog and will anyone subscribe? Am i Hank Moody incarnate? Is this Hell A Magazine online? Well, i am not a self-loathing alcoholic with no semblance of self-control ALL the time (some x-girlfriend's may disagree), but i do share the entertaining character's affinity for "the written word" and undying chivalry. It would be nice, like him, to someday be recognized in book stores, not by a 16-yr-old who wants to seduce me and punch me in the face...that would be bad...but, as a talented writer with swagger whom people just seem to be drawn to.

In the ensuing months, i am confident that what i have to share will change many lives. i am worthy because i am human. i promise not to listen to my insecurities and to just share. Maybe you will be inspired. Maybe you will laugh. Maybe you will cry. Maybe you know someone who could benefit from my perspectives. Maybe you will be driven to ask yourself some difficult questions, but at the very least, i plan on living the rest of my life on the edge and sharing it with you could possibly make for a good read.

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Labor Day Paddle

After dreaming and planning and obsessing for two months, the day finally came...a gloomy Labor Day. The clouds may have been dark, but i could not have been more anxious to get started.

Chad and i met at Shelter Island early, before light, and contemplated aborting mission because of the wind. We had envisioned a sunny day filled with summertime pleasantries and paddling in rough seas was not really on the menu. The cold sea air and dull overcast sky definitely was the major player in our defeatist psyche. We discussed alternative plans, but i rallied, "If we do anything less then i'm going to feel like a pussy. Lets just paddle." Now that i had put our manhood at stake with this last statement, we abruptly decided to stick to the plan no matter how crazy it seemed. Little did i know that this little excursion would push me to the brink of insanity and i would need to push past my threshold wiping away tears of absolute depletion. More on that later...

Getting everything ready was tedious and when it finally came time all i wanted to do was jump in the water so i wheeled to end of the dock and hurled myself into the chilly sea. The water tasted like gasoline.

Our journey began and we made our way through the lines of neatly parked boats out into the bay...the water transitioning from smooth and calm in the marina to slightly rough and choppy in the open. We passed the police station, the Navy submarine base and the Coast Guard. We rounded a small point and there is was: The Tip of Point Loma.

i stopped paddling and let myself drift while the overhanging cliffs stared back at me.  i don't know if it was the actual beauty of the place or all the emotion and nostalgia i hold for it...warm memories built up over years and years...but i just could not seem to grasp its magnitude.  Too much emotion to wrap my head around. We had over 15 more miles to go so we continued along without stopping for more than a few breaths to take in the view and a few photos to document the occasion.

Rounding the point meant paddling over a few waves and i did not have my sea legs yet. It had been a while since i had been on my board and the first wave that hit me toppled me over. Whoops! The new experimental chest strap i had fashioned to improve stroke efficiency was not easily releasable and i was stuck upside-down underwater. This was a minor detail i had managed to overlook and now was threatening my life. Naturally, i started to freak out stressing every muscle to pull my body through the tightened straps, but quickly calmed myself down when i realized that i had to loosen the straps underwater or die. i took a deep mental breath, ran my hands along the strap till i found the D-ring, and fed the nylon through it until my captor was loose enough so that i could pull myself out. 

After flipping my board back over, pulling myself on and getting situated i decided to leave the chest strap undone for the remainder of our journey. i know chad would have saved me, but being stuck underwater is understandably unsettling and the event switched my energy from awe struck to nervous. i was now cold, tired and crestfallen. We had a long ways to go and i didn't want to be freezing the entire way so passed on the opportunity to catch a few waves at the various breaks along the way for fear of ending up in the water again. It had been a long time and i just didn't feel confident in my abilities, especially after such a small wave had almost sent me to my doom.

i gradually warmed up as we paddled north. Chad caught waves here and there along the way. Deciphering which breaks were which proved to be a captivating puzzle of sifting through memories and landmarks and during it all...with the sun breaking slightly through...my morale slowly returned. i caught a wave and another and then we were there.

Our destination: the place where we had met...Chad and i...and i'm just realizing it now as i write. It was a sunny 1994 September afternoon when he paddled out to the very surf spot where we at this moment had just paddled nine miles to get to. Our friend Jeff introduced us there in the water and that was it...the moment that spawned the domino affect bringing us to this day...this moment...this place where we spent countless hours playing with the ocean in our youth.

i caught a couple waves and it was time to finish the sencond half of our journey. This was our destination and only halfway. We still had to paddle the nine miles back and i was already exhausted.

The return trip seemed quick and we were back at the point easily, but it was the last mile rounding the point that proved to be the most trying portion of the day. There, at the point, currents merge, winds shift and the kelp sits thick on the surface during low tide. Well it was low tide and the paddling was arduous to say the least. i was in so much pain and so excruciatingly tired that i cried. My body was literally in shambles, so depleted that it was unable to maintain a balanced emotional state. Equals a moment of insanity. Thats when you know you are passed your threshold. That last mile before rounding the tip back into the bay took an hour and i wanted to quit, but what could i do? We were out in the ocean and had to keep going. i gritted my teeth, literally inching along as my paddle weakly tapped the surface of the water, feeble stroke after feeble stroke with the little strength i could muster.

i could not believe how long it took to paddle that mile, but slowly the bay came into view and the moment finally arrived where i altered my course from south to east into the bay. instantly everything changed. i caught a wave around the point into calmer water out of the entangling kelp. the swell now pushed us along...a helpful nudge from mother nature arriving from tens of thousands of miles away. We passed the Coast Guard, the Navy submarine base and the police station back into the still waters of the marina. i got lost a few times unsure of which pathway to take through the maze of neatly parked boats and finally ended up where it had all began almost seven hours earlier. When i dove into the chilly gasoline tasting water, completely unaware of the pain i was about to put us through. Chad said it was the most difficult thing he had ever done. Now imagine lying in a hospital bed for two months and that being your first activity upon returning to "normal" life. I was spent and did nothing for almost a week after, but i did it. i had a idea in my head and fought it to fruition. The sense of accomplishment earned and just being there...living the adventure...was worth everything.

Thank you, Chad.