Christmas Costume Contest

The Ghost of Jacob Marley

Ebenezer Scrooooooge. Scroooooge.

For the Christmas Band Concert, I dressed up as Marley from the Christmas Carol. Covered in flour, sneezing every now and then, with chains clanking and kids laughing, I tried to win the contest. I was a close second to Santa's helpers. Come on, who can beat four year olds?

The lesson of Marley is captured in his warning to Scrooge.

"It is required of every man that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellow men! If it goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death! It is doomed to wander through the world! Oh, woe is me! And witness what it cannot share but MIGHT HAVE SHARED on Earth and turned to happiness!"

It's a good reminder for this chaotic Christmas season. Take time to bring happiness to someone today. It's not about the gifts, the money, the schedule, the shopping. It's about helping, loving, and bringing joy to the world. Take it from Jacob Marley.

Mai, Manatees, and Florida

Road trip! I went from Calhoun, GA to West Frankfort, IL to Orlando, FL in way too little time. Long drives. Fortunatley I passed the time listening to American History lectures, reading 1776, and listening to country music.

Smooth and steady driving.

Let's go.

Mai showing off her volleyball skills. She's got the pretties bump I've ever seen. Now if we can just get to do something else....

Pops-my hero

Meditation. There's no other place in the world I'd rather be.

Mom and me at the beach. We got there just in time for the sunset.

Pops and the girls

Mom and Mai

Mai

Mai and me in the manatee dive store.

Good morning, sunshine.

Boat docks

Crystal River

A frigid Florida morning. Don't let the Sunshine state fool you. It can get nippy.


Not a picture from our trip, but we did see three manatees. And we were this close. And yes, we did touch them.

Freeeeeezing! I haven't ever been this cold. That's the best hot chocolate I've ever had!

Mai and meMom and me

Cocoa Beach

What a view!

Luxury

Me and Pops

A happy mother and son at the beach. It's good for our souls.

Pops reading in the shade of a palm tree. Ahh, now that's the life.

God's birthday card to me. God loves you.

Mai, Wilson, and me. Still good times.

Kids' Time

One of my dreams is to be an actor in a movie. I want to be in a big one. I don't have to be the star, but I would like a big role.

In high school Thomas, Shane, and I made movies all the time. GTS put on the slide show, aced religion and government projects, and even helped ask girls out for banquets. Now the GTS has moved on. Shane is applying to Police Academy. I'm a teacher back at good old GCA. Meanwhile Thomas has moved out to Hollywood and continues working with film.

A few years ago I got a call from my camp director's sister. She runs Kids' Time, a 3ABN show. She needed storytellers, and a month later I found myself on a small stage standing on green turf in front of a painted countryside, excited. This might be my dream coming true.

"Action!"

I walked out and started telling my story, but I hadn't even gotten past the introduction when the director cut me off. "Stop. Stop."

I grimaced. "What am I doing wrong?"

"Well, first off you're way too happy. Tone it down, okay?" I couldn't hide the joy. This was great.

That was a long time and many stories ago.

This last trip I had prepped for seven stories. When I arrived Ms. Linda ran over and gave me a great big hug. "Oh, we're so glad you're here! How do you feel about being a potter?"

"Huh?" I hadn't prepped a potter story. "Sure, I guess."

They like to do this to me. Spring new stories on me at the last minute. I kinda like it. It keeps me on my toes, plus I don't have to feel guilty about not spending enough time figuring out what I'm going to say. When it's like this I can sit back and let God take control. (Maybe I should be doing that anyway.)

This year we had a great set. It's much bigger than the first time I stepped out into the hot, bright movie lights. We had over 18 extras, a professional costume designer, five or six cameras, a real live sheep, doves, chickens, way too many kids, and a donkey we named Obama.

(At the very beginning of the shoot everybody was finally in their places. The director said, "Okay. We're on in five...four...three..." He waited a few seconds and then pointed at us to start acting. But before anyone could get started, Obama attacked the silence with a lusty avalanche of flatulence. We all lost it.)

When the day was close to being over we had cranked out a record seven stories. I walked back onto the set after a quick change and Bible read. (In between stories I would read the stories while one person fixed my make up, another tied my turban, and another fixed the belt.) "It's too late," another director said. "We've only got seven minutes. Let's just call it a day."

"No," Ms. Linda said. "Just one more."

"We can't do one in seven minutes," the director countered. "Even if we did it would have to happen in one take."

"Let's do it!" Ms. Linda turned and shouted, "Places! One take! Let's be perfect!"

I breathed a prayer. "Help me, God. Don't let me mess this up."

Six and a half minutes later, Ms. Brenda came out of the sound booth with those words we love to hear.

"It's a keeper!" We all burst into applause and praised God. Whew!

After most of the people were gone, I found Ms. Brenda and Ms. Linda (they're sisters) standing on the set. I gave them both a big hug. Ms. Linda had tears in her eyes.

"Oh, Grant," she sniffed. "We only did one story the first day. And yesterday we were only able to tape four. We were so far behind. But today we did eight. God is so good."

I couldn't agree more.

There's something special about my time up at 3ABN. Maybe it's the dream come true factor. Maybe it's because I'm telling stories. Maybe it's because we've got people from California, Maine, Georgia, and Texas working hard to share the gospel with the kids. Whatever it is, when I'm there it's like life clicks. I know that this is where I'm supposed to be. This is what I'm supposed to be doing right now. It's great.

On dark days I struggle with God. I wonder if He wants me to marry someone ugly or stay single forever. I wonder if He wants me to enjoy life or slug it out for holiness. Why do we fall for these cheap shots from Satan? Why do we doubt God?

When I'm at 3ABN, telling stories from the Bible, I know God wants fantastic things, incredible things for my life. Too often it's me, not God, that holds me back from experiencing the best life has to offer. He gave me these dreams. He wants them to come true even more than me.

Me and Dad outside 3ABN

the set

my dangerous dad and his Jewish merchant son

Shadrach and a Babylonia woman

The hallway leading to the costume closet

Shadrach, Obama, and a cute little girl. She's the reason we do these stories.

Suicide Cliff, Saipan

I stood at the edge looking down.

My smile fled chased by a frown.

The clashing waves, the dream to drown.

My cold heart tired of the sound.

What's holding me back? Why not leap?

Then I beheld many faces

People from many places.

I felt their warm embraces.

And I stepped back from the deep.



In Soph. English we copied the style of Tennyson's "The Lady of Shalott." This is the poem I wrote. No, I never contemplated actually jumping, but there was one day in church when I did think about walking away from God. It took a good talk from an even better friend, prayers from people who loved me back at home, and more grace than I deserve to bring me back from the edge.

To my friend: thanks, Sean.

To the people who were praying: You have no idea what prayer can do. Keep praying.

My Volleyball Team

Crazy faces!
Wilson and his girls
Me and Coach Hass

We played our last game yesterday. We lost again. It's disappointing for me and for the girls. They can play better. Sometimes it seems like they don't want it bad enough. They don't hustle. They don't get serves in. They fall apart after the other teams wins a hard rally. As coaches there's only so much you can do.

I wonder if that's how Jesus feels sometimes. He sees heaven, and then he sees us. "Don't they want it?" We're distracted with worries, movies, music, petty inconveniences, and selfishness. We don't hustle. We don't push the envelope. We're content to just show up. I wonder if Jesus is sitting on the sidelines saying, "You just gotta try. I'll do the rest. Don't give up. Don't be lukewarm."

The good thing about our volleyball season is that there's always next year. The girls did improve by leaps and bounds. It's just that as a coach, I see what they could be. It's the same with Jesus. He knows we're not perfect. We'll mess up. But he won't give up on us either. He's a great coach. He'll never give up on us no matter how many games we lose. Neither will I.

Castaway

Wilson and I washed up somewhere. I'm not sure where we are, but I've been invited to a sort of party. I am starving. I haven't eaten real food in...I can't even remember. I'm just glad to see people again, even if it's overwhelming.

Ready, Wilson?

Yeah, me too. But there's nothing to be scared of. I'm sure these kids are nice. Well, let's go.

As soon as we stepped in Wilson and I made a bee line straight for the Tiki Bar for you know what. Crushed ice. Man, I love this stuff.

As soon as we stepped in Wilson and I made a bee line straight for the Tiki Bar for you know what. Crushed ice. Man, I love this stuff.

There were strange large stone idols. Maybe we're on Christmas Island.

Wilson, with his winning personality, quickly made friends with the local wildlife.

Wilson enjoying himself at the Tiki Bar.

Boy, he's good with the women.

Wilson and I pose with a local native girl. (She's one of my volleyball stars. Her nickname is Charli. She doesn't really like it, but it stuck.)

This girl and I were voted best costume. Whatever that means. I felt kinda embarrassed. I mean, I haven't washed my shirt in two years. I think Wilson was who really won, but he let me tag along. That just goes to show you how nice he really is.

We tried our hands at surfing.

Wilson kept getting asked to be in people's pictures.

Wilson steals a kiss. Atta boy!

Wilson, me, and the local priest (err assistant chaplain)

Just chilllin'
Best of friends
Some cool characters

Ryan and his sister

Mr. Schmidt- the coolest guy at GCA- hands down.


In between dinner and dessert, I used my staff for an impromptu game of limbo.

Busting out some uke skills.

The volleyball team and Wilson.

After a great meal, a fun movie (Surf's Up), and way too many pictures Wilson says goodbye next to the tiki torches. I would have to say--

What's that, Wilson?

Oh. Okay.

Well, we need to get going. Wilson's probably got a hot date with a soccer chick. Me? I guess I'll take a shower, and then who knows. The possibilities are endless...

My Life

My life has slipped into a peaceful routine. Fall has arrived, and the fresh air is a welcome relief to the humidity of summer. I ride my bike everywhere. Play with my next door neighbors, and spend most of my free weekends at my grandparents in Georgia.

The boys and I rolled down this hill after a good game of hockey. Seeing the world turn topsy turvy with the vibrant green grass and blue sky, hearing the boys laughter, and feeling the crunch of grass and leaves was a moment of perfection. It was over before it started, and I lay on the grass smiling. It was a taste, a glimpse, a stolen moment of what heaven will be like.

Me and the boys
Funny faces

I got a backpack in the mail, and the boys helped me open it and then tried it on. It looked like a rocket pack on them.

After trying on the backpack, we went over to their driveway for a quick game of hockey. The final score: 4 to 1. They creamed me. I need to get out there more and practice.

My youngest cousin and I
Me and Pops fishin'

Too many times during my day I get sidetracked with stress. I see my list and feel overwhelmed. I need to grade papers, read this book, write an email. It's go, go, go, go. But the quiet times of fishing, hockey in the driveway, and rolling down a green slope bring everything back to focus. Life's not about the list. It's about the little things that make you smile. One of my friends has a favorite quote.

"Never give up on the things that make you smile."

What makes you smile? What are you going to do about that?

Black and White

My motto is keep it simple. It's how I live my life. I sleep with only a comforter. I drive a pick up with no bells or whistles. In almost everything I do, I strive for simplicity. It even affects my morals. I try to live in a black and white world. It's easier. It's simpler.

Drugs? Black.

Church? White.

But no matter what I think, grey does exist. Life is complicated. I slam into walls, and my black and white glasses shatter.

Take the Salem Witch Trials. In Junior English we are reading Arthur Millers, "The Crucible," a play set during the 1690's in a Puritan town seething under religious pressure. A few girls start acting "unnatural," then a rumor leaks out. Soon the entire town explodes into accusations and confusion as average citizens find themselves in jail and even walking to the hangman's noose. This tragedy happened because the Puritans lost sight of balance. They were too simple, too black and white.

God? Good.

Satan? Bad.

Therefore if the girl says that Satan is attacking her through the person of Mrs. Proctor, then apparently she is a witch.

Mrs. Proctor? Witch.

It doesn't make sense. The fact that the rantings of teenage girls pretending to be birds and wildly accusing some of the most respected residents of the town held up in a court of law still boggles the mind. But it came from living in a world of only black and white, of believing in the infallibility of self. Me? I go to church. I read the Bible. Therefore I must be white. If you disagree with me then you must be evil.

It sounds absurd to us now, but how many times in history have good people done bad things in the name of good? So how do I balance my tolerance of evil? Do I reject all black, all that I think is black, all that I might be afraid is black? Do I close myself off from everything that might be evil? Does this include people?

Before plunging into the arguments about Harry Potter, abortion, or the war in Iraq, let's step back and ask a bigger question. How do we balance faith and tolerance?

I had my Junior English class answer this question in an essay. Many tired, but few did anything but repeat my question or give vague answers about balance and being like Jesus. Is this all we can offer? Are the blanket commands of "Love thy neighbor" and "Love thy God" enough to steer us through the waves and rocks of life?

Yes.

If we look behind the scenes of the Salem Witch Hunt, we find greed, lust for power, and pride. If everyone involved was sincerely worried about the spirituality of the town, the girls, and the accused how many people would have swung under the hangman's tree? If the Inquisition was really about helping people find freedom from their sins and ignorance how many would have burned at the stake? If the Jews really cared about the glory of God would they have killed his Son?

Conservative Christians get a bad rap. In history books, in the news, even at our dinner tables we hear of the awful crimes of intolerance. "Why can't those religious nuts just live and let live?" But how many intolerant people are really Christian?

Jesus was intolerant when it came to proud, haughty men who gave burdens to people in the name of God. But the sinners, the losers, the people in grey, he loved them. So maybe it is possible to keep it simple. Instead of worrying about colors, let's focus on Jesus. Stepping where he stepped, loving how he loved will keep us from committing the same mistakes of the witch trials. It will keep us in balance.

Nobody said that finding that balance was easy. Nobody said that living like Jesus was easy either. We just need to keep it simple.

Following Jesus? White.

The Quiet Man

One of my favorite John Wayne movies is John Ford's "The Quiet Man," and that's how my life has felt for the last few months. The adventure of my summer road trip, the highs and lows of camp, and a quick love that flamed and fizzled are all behind me. Now I'm an English teacher. I grade papers. I plan lessons. I ride my road bike to work every day. For fun I coach the girls' volleyball team. I read biographies like David McCullough's "John Adams." I lead a quiet life.

And that is why I haven't written any blogs in forever. When I do find time to sit and contemplate my life it's hard to scrounge up material for a blog. My life doesn't inspire me. Maybe it's because I'm not doing adventurous things. Maybe it's because I've discovered the monotony of adulthood. Maybe it's because I'm a negative Nancy.

But enough of that perspective!

The other day during lunch a girl came up to me and told me that the polo shirt I was wearing looked terrible on me. I stepped back speechless. Glad that she had set me straight and shared the gospel of good fashion the teenage girl skipped back into the crowd as I sat at my table. I asked some of the faculty ladies if my shirt looked terrible, and they assured me that I looked just fine. But after some more comments in class I finally brought up the subject to my volleyball girls as we were driving home on the bus.

"Yeah, Mr. Graves. That shirt looked like something our dads would wear."

Funny, I thought. I got that shirt from my dad.

"You should wear more blue, Mr. Graves. It's good for your eyes. Red...well," and then they pointed to my thinning hair line. "It kinda makes that stand out."

"Oh. Any other tips, girls?"

"Yeah, never wear Hawaiian shirts. Ever! They look terrible on every guy, and every guy seems to own at least three. Go home tonight and throw your Hawaiian shirts away. They don't look good on anybody."

"Oh. I never would have thought-"

"And don't wear really baggy pants. You're not a skater punk. But don't wear pants too tight. And don't ever pull your pants up past your belly button! Only old guys do that, and it looks awful."

"Great. Not too big. Not too small. Not too high."

"Yeah. And wear your hat backwards. It's cooler."

I twisted my GCA ball cap backwards and flashed them my best Han Solo grin.

"Much better, Coach. Now you'll get a girlfriend in no time."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

There are perks to working at a boarding academy. You get off work at 8 pm. You get free food in the cafe. You get to spend weekends supervising all Sabbath long. And you get the best fashion advice from professionals. I declined their generous offer to take them all shopping that next Sunday. "But we'll help you pick out some great clothes!" But the thought of me walking through the men's department and trying on clothes with all ten of my volleyball girls was enough to give me the resolve to say, "No, but thank you for caring."

So me life is quiet. But my wardrobe is improving. Now I only have one Hawaiian shirt. I couldn't get rid of my old friend. But the striped polo is resting safely at the Goodwill store next to my flashy green shirt with palm trees that everyone confuses with marijuana leaves. I haven't wrestled an alligator or bought a motorcycle, but life isn't always an adrenaline rush. Sometimes it slows down, and I have to remind myself that slow isn't necessarily bad. Quiet isn't necessarily boring.

Life is good. And you will start seeing more blogs, hearing more stories, and sharing more memories with a quiet man living in Georgia.

Scary Sharks

(This is my first bulletin board in my classroom.)

The United States averages just 16 shark attacks each year and slightly less than one shark-attack fatality every two years. Meanwhile, in the coastal U.S. states alone, lightning strikes and kills more than 41 people each year. Here are some shark facts for you.

• Each year there are about 50 to 70 confirmed shark attacks and 5 to 15 shark-attack fatalities around the world. The numbers have risen over the past several decades but not because sharks are more aggressive: Humans have simply taken to coastal waters in increasing numbers.

• Over 375 shark species have been identified, but only about a dozen are considered particularly dangerous. Three species are responsible for most human attacks: great white (pictured below), tiger, and bull sharks.

• While sharks kill fewer than 20 people a year, their own numbers suffer greatly at human hands. Between 20 and 100 million sharks die each year due to fishing activity, according to data from the Florida Museum of Natural History's International Shark Attack File. The organization estimates that some shark populations have plummeted 30 to 50 percent.



• The shortfin mako (pictured above) is often recognized as the world's speediest shark. It has been clocked at speeds of up to 20 miles an hour and can probably swim even faster than that. Makos are fast enough to catch even the fleetest fish, such as tuna and swordfish.


• Sharks are known as eating machines. But because many species are cold-blooded, some sharks eat only about 2 percent of their body weight each day. That's a bit less than humans typically eat.

• The largest shark is the whale shark (pictured above), which can grow to 60 feet long. The gentle giant eats tiny plankton.

• While scientists still have much to learn about shark migration, researchers do know that some species get around. Blue sharks, for example, roam the North Atlantic on journeys of 1,200 to 1,700 nautical miles. After one record-breaking blue was tagged off New York, it swam 3,740 nautical miles to Brazil.


Sharks are scary. Imagine floating alone in the middle of the ocean. What’s swimming below you in the blue darkness? It’s enough to jump start your adrenaline. But the more you know about sharks, the less scary they become. It’s the same with God.

Sometimes God seems scary to me. Big Brother is watching, and He’s got lightning bolts. But Jesus said that He came to show us the Father. What was Jesus like? How did He treat the “losers”? The more I learn about God, the more I see Jesus, the less fear I have.

That’s what this year is all about. Whether you’re in English, Science, Religion, or the café we want you to see the real God, the God that loves you for you.

The more we learn the less we fear. The less we fear the more we love. Let’s learn about God together.

Hayden Lake Pics

See no evil. Hear only a little evil. Speak no evil.

Surewood forrest. Me, Charlie, and Britt

Ball tag. An Idaho staple.

Grandpa joking around during breakfast. When he gets going, it's hard not to laugh. What can I say? Being funny runs in the family. (I said funny, not funny looking.)

My favorite place on earth...

Bows, Arrows, and God

Johnny was small, blond, and missing the target by a mile.

Teaching archery at summer camp, I expect my kids to miss the target at first, but after I tell them how to hold the bow, how to release the arrow, stand with their feet, they start nailing the targets. Some kids catch on real fast, while others slowly slide into become good little archers. But Johnny was having trouble.

The bow was kinda strong for his arms. The arrows kept flying off to the right or the left, and his shoulders were sagging. I noticed that he was having trouble, but with ten other adventure campers yelling, "Chief! Look at this! Chief! What am I doing wrong! Chief! Can I shoot at the ground squirrels?" I wasn't able to make it to Johnny before he had shot all his arrows.

Soon it was the next group's turn to shoot, and as Johnny trudged back to the shade thrown by my sagging green tent, I heard him whimper, "I didn't even hit the target once." His head hung low. His feet were dragging, and I could see despair written all over him.

I had to do something fast. Class was almost over. I pulled one kid off the line. "You're doing real well today. I want Johnny to shoot for me. You wouldn't mind letting him take your turn today, would you?"

"Hey, Johnny!" I yelled. He looked up. "Come here. I want to see you shoot. It was my fault for not getting to you during the last round. Show me your stuff."

As Johnny got up and walked over to me he was the picture of defeat. I patted him on the back and we went over how to stand, how to hold the arrow on the bow, and how to release. He took a couple of shots, and my heart sank as the arrows kept careening off and slamming into the dirt bank. I looked at my watch.

We were late.

"Okay, Johnny," I said. "We've got time for one more shot. You can do it."

Then I prayed. I mean I really prayed. I'd been praying for Johnny to hit the target for the last few minutes, but now my prayers took on a desperate pleading.

Come on, God. Please let him hit the target. Don't let him leave feeling like a loser.

Johnny pulled the string back and aimed. I closed my eyes and felt like I was sweating bullets.

Twang! Please. Please. Please. I prayed.

Thump!

My eyes were still closed. Thank you, God. At least he hit the target.

"I did it!" Johnny yelled. "I hit the bull's eye!"

I opened my eyes and stared at Johnny's arrow stuck right in the middle of the yellow bull's eye.

"Hey, guys! Did you see that! I hit it! I hit it!" Johnny pumped his fist in the air.

Disaster had been averted. Johnny left the archery field that day a winner, an archer. And I couldn't stop smiling.

I know that God is always listening. I know that God is always taking care of us. But it sure is nice to see Him in action. Some people would say that Johnny's bull's eye was pure luck, but I know better.

Thanks, God.

Summer Camp Pics

This summer my camera stayed safe and sound in my dresser drawer all summer long. A couple of times I felt guilty about not busting them out and taking more pics, but I was too busy having fun, working hard, and doing my job to prance around with a camera. Or at least that's what I told myself.

One of the many complications of life for me is when to take pictures and when to make memories. I'm sure the wise ones of you are sitting right there saying, "Duh, Grant. You have to find balance." Well, that's easier said than done. So this summer I decided that since I took way too many pictures driving cross country and was stuck behind the camera when Rika, Dustin, and Tiff were having all the fun, I would take a break from the camera at camp. So all the pics you'll see were stolen from friends' myspaces. When I find more I'll post 'em.

This summer was hard. It was fun. It was freezing at night. I still miss Saipan nights with the ocean breezy and the palm trees. Ahh..... My goals were to not get sick, plug in with the kids, and make friends with all the staff. I did get a little sore throat, but it never knocked me out for the count. I did tons of stuff with the kids this summer. And as for my last goal, I shouldn't have ever worried. MiVoden has the friendliest staff of all the camps I've worked at. Everyone was great. I left the place with a warm feeling in my heart.

Hayden Lake is still my favorite place on earth. I'm glad to know that some things will never change.



MiVoden Warriors. The last week me and Tara were the hosts for MiVoden Warriors. For kids' camp we had staff teams compete against each other in different contests. Water balloon toss, balance beam gladiators, sits up with bowls full of water. But this week for family camp we were able to get the family campers involved. They loved it, and even though I wasn't as funny as Tara was up front, we all had a rocking good time.

After the action packed rodeo every Wed night, we went over to the pond and sang silly songs. I got to sing the Herman song, and they liked it. One night I totally blanked out on the last verse and stumbled threw it. It was awful. The next week they wanted me to sing it again, but I was afraid I'd blank out again. Tara helped me that week by giving me the first phrase one time, and the next week she held the cheat sheet I wrote just before I went up. I never understood how people could just go blank up front. I love speaking, but give me guitar and a song, and a cold sweat will break out. My knees will get knocking, and I'll be praying harder than an egg in the frying pan. Whew! All in all, it was great. I learned a bunch of new songs, and the kids loved every minute of it.

Me and Tara at the staff party. The girls threw the party for the guys. It was a combo of medic, capture the flag, water balloon wars, and pure chaos. Running around the woods in the dark with a glow stick bracelet, dodging balloons and trees, trying to capture the other team's flag. Pretty soon I gave up trying to win and just had a blast hitting people with the water balloons. I even hit the camp director. (I felt kinda bad about that one.) It was a really, really late night, but totally worth it. Good job, girls!

Every night after the fire bowl the staff would come up front, put their arms around each other and sing to the campers as they were dismissed. It was good team building, and it also helped me stay warm on those frigid Idaho nights.

My awesome paint ball team. Pink stands for Powerful Incredible Nasty Killers. We rocked it out there. Okay, so we died real fast, but we looked better than all the other teams.

If a cabin wins honor cabin they get to choose a staff member to pie. Me and Tara got pied on the same night.

Road Trip Pics

why not?

sleeping in the dirt

cool cousins

reading on the rock

hiking the narrows

freezing on Mt. Evans

the hike down

following the leader

yee-haw!

John Wayne country

Rocky Mountain High

Danger Zone

Not for the faint of heart

at the top of Angel's Landing, Zion