about

I first saw the grizzly bear's giant head half a kilometer downstream. I knew by the way he snapped it toward me that my day had just shifted in intensity. His eyes were human, piercing hazel and burning with disdain, and even from that distance I could see how disapproving they were. We stopped in our tracks, talking each other through a hasty decision matrix.  Go back up and over Anderson Pass in fresh snow, wait, or move forward. Luckily, after several minutes he ambled off into the willows, and after half an hour, my partner and I moved down the braided riverbed. That was the wrong choice.

 

As we passed the cut bank that he had climbed to enter the woods, we heard grunts and crashing branches. He shot out of the woods, splashing into the river toward us. He covered the 100 yards in 9 seconds. Faster than the fastest olympic sprinter but interminably long in the moment . His approach was feral, violent and shocking. As he closed the distance I noticed something about myself in that second that I couldn't grasp in the moment but would become my superpower in life. Time slowed to a standstill and every micro-element of existence became stunningly bright and real. I noticed the water shaking from the fur behind his intense amber eyes. I looked at the sky and noticed a plane's contrail. I saw the furled edge of a last fireweed bloom standing against a blurred, blue backdrop and I felt my own heart beating its final few hardest beats.

 

Later in life I would have the honor and the opportunity to have two separate instances to save parties from drowning. I was just in the right place at the right time, but what I noticed is that everything got very slow exactly like when the Grizzly was charging. Both times I acted immediately with the single, pulsing feeling of...... I want to help. I was placed here in this spot at this time to help.

 

It was incredibly calm and peaceful. I remember thinking, the next few moments will be painful. He will swat at me with his long claws then pounce on my back as I try to stay stomach down, guarding my vital organs and trying to keep my ears from being torn from my scalp. He will crunch my skull and if I am lucky he will leave Julie alone as he works me over. After 3 or 4 long moments it will be over.

 

He stopped 7 feet from us, popped his jaw, woofed, lunged back and forth, swinging his neck low and high, then smelled the ground and turned, sprinting away as fast as he had come. Up on hill, down, up until he was a dark dot on the horizon.

That was during my first summer as a Backcountry Ranger in Denali National Park, Alaska. It  was the most impactful and moving summer of my life. I was involved in search and rescues, flew with the park pilot to inholdings west of the park and landed on Kahiltna in the high altitude Llama Heli. I led guided hikes, and patrolled the backcountry to check on hikers and climbers. It was the greatest job. "I liked it, and I was good at it."

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What I found over the subsequent seasons as a Hut Warden in New Zealand, an Outdoor Educator and Life Guard on the North Shore of Oahu and a Ranger in Denali, is that I loved sharing with people my zest for the beauty I was experiencing. I wanted to show people where the little nooks and crannies were and I wanted to make sure they were safe, well fed and taken care of. More than anything, I wanted to bring them joy.

 

After 5 years, I made the fateful error of entering corporate surgical device sales and muddled through what became drudgery and later, real existential dread. Then it was over, and I pushed all my chips to the middle of the table, took a deep breath, spent a lot of savings, and started Travel-Well. It is the single greatest decision of my entire life—besides marrying my wife. I could finally get back to what provides joy in my life, which is providing joy in other's lives.

 

I hope you enjoy the website and the idea of doing active and adventure travel differently. I hope you enjoy the concept of a firm that cares, that is independent, that does the right things, and cherishes its integrity because it is the only thing that really matters in the end. We are here to help. We were put here in this very moment to help.

 

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