Alive Inside.

A few years back I recall sitting at work in Kansas City with the worst case of cabin fever imaginable.

Cabin Fever is basically a built up and bottled desire to get outside. The feeling is comparable to longing for a certain someone. Like a girl named Jennifer or Stephanie from seventh grade that was "dating" Mark or Chad, and you wanted her badly but she was not to be had (Hello, Dr. Seuss). Not at this time, at least. That's a similar feeling to cabin fever. You want something now, but you just can't have it. You're kind of trapped...at least for the time being.

In Kansas City, there aren't very many places to escape to cure your cabin fever. So even during the peak outdoor months, I found myself going a little crazy. It didn't help that I worked at a gear store, either. Day after day of selling backpacks and hiking boots to people that were going on adventures. Giving advice to these people while gritting my teeth, trying not to expose my jealousy. So, granted, one of these days I was either going to snap, or figure out a way to feed this beast that is cabin fever.

Lucky for me, while I was managing this gear store in K.C. I was also asked to guide fly fishing trips in Colorado. I've been fly fishing for quite some time now, which the powers that be knew, so they offered to pay me to caravan out to Buena Vista for seven days at a time to teach rich people how to catch trout.

During my first guide trip to Colorado, I quickly learned two things. That I was 93% certain that I did not want to guide for a living. And that I wanted to live in Colorado. Guiding was fun, but I enjoy fishing over guiding. And Kansas sucks, especially when coming from the West.

Each time that I would come back from Colorado it wouldn't take long for the cabin fever to set back in. It was like giving a starving child a taste of macaroni & cheese every five months. I realized that I needed more than just a taste.

As my fever grew to painful proportions, I started devising a plan. This plan involved a lengthy adventure followed by a relocation. The lengthy adventure included road tripping, campfires, a glass or two of Scotch, sleeping under the stars, and exploring new rivers with my fly rod. The relocation was Colorado, a place where cabin fever is a seldom sight.

As the plan of adventure began to unfold, I immediately realized that the planning proved to be invigorating. My job suddenly became to plan for this adventure. I made contacts to potential sponsors that provided me with necessary provisions in exchange for the possibility of exposure. I recruited a close friend to join me on the trip to document this adventure on film. I was offered use of a camper to live in from an acquaintance that is now a great friend. This jaunt had turned into an epic adventure, at least in my mind. My cabin fever had subsided and I was starting to feel more alive than ever. The thought of a day job seemed mundane. I wanted for this feeling of freedom and life to continue.

It did continue. The excursion started the day that I kissed my now-wife goodbye, and headed for the mountains in my beat up pick-up truck.

I made it to Buena Vista, Colorado in one day without any breakdowns or issues of that sort. For the next week, I would teach rich people how to catch trout one last time before driving off into uncertainty. And that I did.

I remember the morning after our clients had gone back to the Midwest. The other guides and I had enjoyed a day of fishing without the annoyance of holding rich people's hands. That morning we awoke at 4am so my fellow guides could get a jump on the long ride back to Kansas and Oklahoma. We said our goodbyes, they headed East, and I took a nap at an abandoned kayak access in my truck.

After I woke up from my nap, it was time to shift this adventure into second gear. No more guide cabin. No more familiar cities. No more home base. Just my rickety truck packed with everything I owned, three fly rods, and a Rand McNally Atlas.

For the next three weeks I embarked on a trip that brought new towns, new rivers, new faces, new topography, new wildlife, new taverns, a good friend, a camper, and a jug of Scotch. We drove unknown roads. We fished unknown waters. We explored unknown mountains. Unknown to us.

Afterwards, the relocation took place. The relocation was exciting, but real. It involved real life adult decisions which I sometimes made correctly and sometimes did not. There were moving vans, packing, house hunting, leases, jobs, commuting, and so on. Oh yea, and my soon-to-be wife that, luckily for me, did not leave me during any of this.

It's been over two years since I've moved out West. The cabin fever is generally a thing of the past, seeing as how I've got hundreds of choices for curing it at my disposal. I feel as though I've just finished my relocation part of the plan. In addition to living in a pop-up camper and in the back of my pick-up, I've made my residence in my inlaws' basement and two rental houses since becoming a Colorado resident. Eight months ago I bought a house, and three months after that I married April. The plan is complete...two and a half years later, it's complete.

Which brings me to the whole reason that I started writing this blurb in the first place. I am ready for another adventure.

A good friend of mine once told me that within this short life of ours, you have to do what makes you feel alive inside.

With that said - and I can assure you that is fantastic advice to live by - I am in the process of devising yet another life-giving adventure.

Sure, small excursions are necessary. April and I just spent the weekend up in Estes in an outasight little cabin. Before that, we stayed three days up in Snowmass Village - checked out a great concert, hiked up around Independence Pass, and fly fished the Frying Pan. And currently me and my buddies have a rugged man-trip in the works. Like I said, necessary.

But for me, the thought of planning and executing an epic adventure that few people I know would even think of appeals to me greatly. Not because of ego, but because it makes me feel alive inside. The excitement, the adventure, the possibilities, the enjoyment...it all flows through me like a river. Like a raging, rushing river, overflowing it's banks with passion - bountiful with beautiful, colorful, but dangerously emotional fish.........a'hem.

I have cohorts involved in this plan. Three cohorts who are excited about an adventure. Three cohorts who share my ambition. Three cohorts who want to live and not regret.

The planning is in the works, because planning is necessary when you're in your 30's. It is much more difficult to wing it when you have a mortgage. So careful, adult-style planning is currently on the agenda. Along with finances, other things to consider are time and...well, more finances. So, while keeping money in mind, one must dream big and have a strong vision of what one wants to accomplish. But if it's not exactly what you envisioned, that's okay. Plan big, expect not-as big. That's a safe formula. But there's always a chance of your dream becoming as big, or bigger than you had expected. That is what we call a real nice surprise.

I will keep this blog updated on the general outline of this adventure plan. I will not get into details because certain things change, and certain things do not necessarily need to be planned out to begin with.

Sleep well, my friends. And please dream of adventure. Because like a glass of good Scotch, it will make you grit your teeth and feel keen.


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