Each year as we approach the anniversary of Dave’s passing, we feel such a heaviness of spirit; such melancholy.  We realize that life has moved on, and that’s how it should be, but each year we wonder if Dave will be remembered or will the hustle and bustle of everyday life make the day pass unnoticed by everyone but his immediate family.  We would understand if it did, but the thought still makes us sad.

Boy, were we wrong!  Not only did we receive phone calls, e-mails, text messages and posts on the website from friends and strangers alike, but we were thrilled to hear that special moments were created in memory of Dave and that he was in the thoughts of many of those who loved him…

Emily T., a close childhood friend, reached out to us with this e-mail:

Last Friday I took Miles and Jonah on a hike in Mill Valley, CA (about 15 mins from where we live) on the Tennessee Valley trail.  Typically, this is a pretty mellow hike with beautiful views of Tam Valley.  This is the first time I took the boys by myself so I loaded them up in the jogger/stroller, packed a bunch of snacks, our good camera and went on our way.  Typically we take the left side of the trail, (which is pretty flat) but this time, for some reason I took the right side of the trail and let’s just say this was far from flat.  It was all uphill!  What was I thinking!?  My arms were burning  as I pushed my two 25lb boys and our huge jogger up this mountain — solo!  I kept laughing as I pictured Dave looking down laughing at me.  But we made it!  The trail is so beautiful — it was foggy, but for some reason the fog seemed beautiful that day.  We hiked a few miles all the way out to Tennessee Beach where we stopped and had a little snack.  I wrote Dave’s name in the sand with twigs that Miles and Jonah passed me.  I spent the whole time talking to the boys about Dave and how he took me on my very first hike in high school up to Mohonk.  Ever since that day at Mohonk hiking has become a huge part of my life.  So much so that we live in Marin County where we can hit the trails daily.  All because of Dave!

I have attached a few photos of our hike – I hope you enjoy them.  It was a very special day.

Dan R., another childhood friend and partner in adolescent mischief, wrote:

A bunch of us went on the good old canoe trip a couple of days after Dave’s anniversary. As we lazily floated down old man river about mid day, the conversation was jolly and care free.  The cold drinks were flowing nicely and everyone was excited to have a good solid day of relaxation.  Out of nowhere, in the middle of old man river, a black, orange and yellow butterfly danced all around us.  As he weaved in and out of our small group, we all went silent thinking the same thing.  He’s here…he’s with us…Scuba Steve…Dave.  He alwayss in our hearts, minds and memories. I miss him dearly.

Friends doing things they had once done with Dave and “feeling” his presence.  How great is that?

Click for More Pictures

How do I begin to describe the most difficult and symbolic journey that Rob and I shared.  As tiring and strenuous as it might be, we were driven to visit the place where Dave lost his life.  For all he had gone through, we felt it was the least we could do to honor him and pay our respects. 

It was 8am on a beautiful, bright sunny, yet cool, morning in August with brilliant blue skies and white puffy clouds.  We couldn’t have asked for a nicer day as we mounted our horses and headed into the canyons. As we walked along, our guide, Breck, would occasionally point out the trail that Dave had hiked that fateful day.

We crossed Deer Creek, the babbling brook where Dave spent his first and final night; the spot where Dave filled his water bottle and was told to empty it–with fatal results.  We would serpentine through ponderosa and juniper pines, sage brush, and pinion pines with occasional sightings of rabbits, lizards, and a lone buck.  Some of the trails were so narrow that the unyielding branches would snap and scratch our helmuts, legs, and arms.

The trails were challenging as the horses climbed and descended steep rock formations.  The horses slipped from time-to-time causing rocks to break away and tumble down the steep slickrocks.  To say that we were concerned would be an understatement.

After over  3 1/2 hours on challenging trails, from high above the canyon, Breck pointed to where the helicopter had landed to pick up Dave. And, finally, off in the distance we saw Cave 6600 — now known as Dave’s Cave.  There it was; the cave that Dave struggled so hard to reach. 

We continued along the trails to the point where it became too steep and unstable for the horses to continue.  The remaining half-mile had to be traveled on foot.  The sandy soil and fragile shale shifted under our feet making the descent to the cave a slow process.

Once we hit the solid trail, Breck, with a sympathetic nod to Rob, glanced toward a pile of rocks ahead.  A cairn had been placed on the trail by fellow students to mark the spot where Dave had collapsed and died.

I felt as if the air had been sucked from my lungs as I stood in that spot with my thoughts and imagination careening out of control. The tears just wouldn’t stop as I could now literally see just how close Dave had been to the water.

As Rob and I were struggling with the magnitude of our emotions, I glanced into the brush and cottonwood trees surrounding the cave.  For the first (and last) time since we started our journey, we saw four butterflies flitting about.  How fitting and how comforting!

We continued to the cave; not even a five minute walk, and there was the life-saving trickling stream.  All I could think was, “Awww Dave, you were soooo close!”  We spread some of Dave’s ashes in the cave near the water and said, “Dave, NOW you have finally finished your journey!”

But we weren’t finished with ours.  The climb out of the canyon was the first real example of what Dave had experienced.  Even though we were fully hydrated, the short climb was a killer.  It was the hardest physical challenge I ever faced.  I could only climb 15 – 20 ft before my heart would hammer in my chest and I would be gasping for air.  With the sand shifting beneath our feet, we would take six steps, but only accomplish half the distance.  Rob did much better than I did, but he, too, felt the strain.  He said it was “like trying to breathe through a straw.”  We could only imagine what Dave felt traveling by foot-all day, in temperatures over 100 degrees, up-and-down the rocks, and with no water!!!

We mounted our horses for the trek back and said our goodbyes to Dave once again.  We headed back facing the same challenges as our trip that morning, but with an added concern — severe lightning and thunderstorms had moved in.  There we were climbing the slickrocks as lightning flashed all around us.  As the water cascaded off the slickrocks and rushed under the horses’ hooves, Rob and I witnessed first-hand the beginnings of a flash flood.  If we didn’t get out of the canyons quickly, we would have to take shelter and spend the night in a cave. and that was a frightening thought!!

The irony didn’t escape us.  Dave had been racing toward the water and we were running from the water.

By the time we got back to the ranch, soaked to the bone, it had been an 8 hour journey. When  I asked Rob how he felt about making the trip, he said that he felt “pride in completing the difficult physical challenge and facing the emotions that went with it” and that “even though it was sad and depressing, I am glad I could pay my respects to Dave.”

The beauty of the Utah canyons cannot be denied, but it was viewed through eyes of sadness and thoughts of “if only!”

We did what we set out to do—go to the place where Dave died, help him complete his journey, and send him our love!

Click for More Pictures

What a journey into the heart of Denali Park! The  six-hour bus ride was a complete sensory overload.  We experienced the most beautiful views of a lifetime; mountain after mountain – some green, some snow-capped; some rounded, some peaked.  The sun and blue skies magnified the kaleidoscope of colors, but none more beautiful than at Polychrome Pass.  Wild flowers of all colors dotted the mountainsides and glacier lakes were everywhere.  The joy of seeing animals, from the smallest snowshoe hare to the giant grizzly, in their natural habitat left us all wide-eyed with the wonder of it all.  We imagined how much Dave would have loved it, too!  And as with all of these trips, I truly felt that somewhere, somehow, Dave was with us every step of the way.

The next morning we gathered for another hike.  Our guide inexplicably broke tradition and headed to Reflection Lake before the hike.  As the other guides questioned him about his detour, he said he wanted to take advantage of the clear skies. Thank God he did.  None of the other guides followed.

As we rounded the bend, audible gasps could be heard from the van.  Jan and I looked at each other with our eyes welling up with tears.  It was such a poignant moment to see majestic Mt. McKinley soaring high above us–completely surrounded by blue skies.  I couldn’t have asked for a more dramatic, yet serene, place to spread more of Dave’s ashes–Reflection Lake with such a mind-numbing view of Mt. McKinley.   My emotions were off-the-chart with sadness that he wasn’t physically here with us to exhileration that we were so fortunate to experience this amazing sight.  We were later told that only 1% of travelers actually view Mt. McKinley in all its glory.  Most times it is either fully or partially covered in clouds.  Later during our hike, we could view Mt McKinley towering high above the mountain we were climbing.  By the middle of our hike, Mt. McKinley once again disappeared into the clouds.  Had our guide NOT taken the detour, the amazing experience would never have happened.  (I bet he heard a “little voice” in his head that morning!)  

As with all of our Alaskan experiences, the hike was shake-your-head amazing.  Our guide told us that of all the people who visit Alaska only 2% actually climb its mountains; they usually look up the mountain from the vans.  Until Alaska, never in my life had I ever experienced true wilderness–just being one with nature.  Dave would be proud to know we did this trip our own way.  I hope we continue to witness – first hand – the beauty this world has to offer. 

Like everything in life, the best things do NOT come easy.  We cannot just let life happen, we need to make it happen! 

Click for More Pictures

We knew this adventure had to be exciting and different from what the “average Joe” would  experience.  But most of all it had to be fun.  This tour was touted as being ideal for those with the time and desire to get deep into the Alaskan bush surrounding Denali National Park– going 18 miles; much higher and with a wide variety of trail conditions, including stream crossings, marshes, bouncy tree-root rutted trails and steep hill-climbing.  It sounded perfect, but most of all it had to be fun. To be sure that Rob and Bob wouldn’t be held back by us ladies, we sent them off without us.

Here are their stories…

Rob:

Once again we were lucky enough to get a picture-perfect day in Alaska.  After brief instructions by our guides, we took off. Uncle Bob (UB) was second and I was third in line so we wouldn’t be held up by the others.  Of course, we both asked if we could pick up the pace at some point.  The guide said not to worry; it will get better.  They needed to gauge the abilities of everyone first.

We started out at slow pace in a single-file line and not even 5 minutes into the ride, we turned the corner and came right up on a BIG grizzly right in the middle of the trail.  UB pointed it out and I quickly thought, “My first real grizzly sighting!”  Once we saw it begin to turn in our direction, the excitement ended and a “little” concern crept in.  Luckily for us the bear wanted nothing to do with us and kept moving.  The guides did have a horn that they blew, but I think UB’s gas after his morning prune juice would have been more effective. 

They let us do our thing for awhile out in the muddy field.  UB and I took off immediately and just went shit-house!  We came back covered in mud while everyone else played follow-the-leader in the gravel.  We then continued up to the top of this mountain for a midday break.  It was picture-perfect view being surrounded by the mountains in every direction.  We thought it was another great place for Dave to be.  I sprinked some of his ashes at the top of the mountain into some foliage growing off the edge while UB took some photos.  It was a nice peaceful moment just listening to the wind saying hello to Dave.

We then ventured back.  The other guide decided to take the lead with us two following.  I guess we proved ourselves earlier because he took off like a bat atta hell!!  We both floored it and left everyone in the dust (actually–the spray of the river)! We did have to stop to let them catch up on occasion, but we’d go right back at it.  We got back to the ATV drop-off in record time with hearts racing and big smiles.

Bob:

It was another beautiful Alaska morning as I walked from our cabin and across the road to meet my nephew, Rob, for breakfast.  The peaceful silence was especially relaxing first thing in the am.  Maybe it’s just me, but I think there must be something in most guys’ DNA that finds noise in the morning like fingernails on a blackboard.  The only thing worse is “chatting at breakfast.”  Well, Rob didn’t disappoint.  Conversation went something like this…

Me:  Hey, Rob

Rob: Mornin’

Me: Nice day

Rob: Yeah.

That was it, nothing else necessary.  Then we both slumped back to our cheerios…what bliss…shhhh!!

We arrived at the beginning of the trail and got all geared up.  Most of the group had never ridden before.  I started feeling like this was going to be like a cute little pony ride, stopping occasionally so the ladies could snap some picture of the “cute little forget-me-nots.”  Well, Rob took one of the guides aside who then promised to “take care of us.”  It wasn’t long before we both, along with two guides, broke away on our own, tear-assing down a river bed.  All of a sudden we screech to a halt and the four of us are staring at a huge bear on the trail ahead, close enough to hit with a rock.  One’s first instinct is to say, “Wow! Look at the big bear, Mommy. Let’s take a picture!” Then reality sets in that this ISN’T Smokey at the zoo and he could actually EAT you. Then, your second instinct takes over, but running isn’t an option either. You know, the whole predator/prey thing, even if they don’t want to eat you, if you run, they have no choice but to get hungry real quick. Our only hope was that he would fill up on one of the guides first. So, there we are frozen. Rob had the camera in his top pocket, but lacked the — to make a move for it so we have no pictures to prove our story.

Lucky for us, the guides were full of courage and well prepared with a bear “horn.” They walked toward the thing yelling something while holding a can outstretched like a shield. If only we could have seen the look on this guy’s face when he fired off this can. First, a silent little puff of white smoke came out followed by something that sounded like an old man passing gas through three layers of long johns. Kind of like what I was wearing at the time. (Just a side note, I found Rob’s comment about the prunes to be crude and unnecessary, but if I would have thought of it at that moment, I might have been able to “contribute.”)

Well, after a few feeble moans from the can (no pun intended), the bear just got fed up and walked away. (I swear I heard him snickering as he left.) Personally, I think it may have gotten a noseful of what Rob had done in his “foul” gear. About this time, the rest of the “ponies” drove up in a single file behind us wanting to know why we stopped. Of course we made light of it. Rob said, “Bear.” I said, “Yeah.” Men of few words. A short while later, Rob and I went nuts in a mud bog. It was great seeing Rob let loose and unload some of the stress and sadness he has been carrying.

Well, we had a blast that day and enjoyed some spectacular views. We stopped for a break on top of a small mountain about 25 miles west of Mt. Healy. The surrounding mountains were covered in white spruce, mountain alder, grey willow, arctic sandwort and much more. While the others had lunch, Rob slipped away and found a spot to leave some of Dave’s ashes. We both spent a few silent moments with only the sound of the wind blowing across the mountains.

I was grateful and honored to share the moment. Dave would have loved this place. I know I did!

Message from Pat: Mission accomplished. They had a blast! I’m sure Dave laughed at their escapade and would have loved the experience, too. That’s why we made sure that a little bit of Dave will be there forever–overlooking the northern flanks of the Alaskan Range, Denali National Park, Mt. Healy, and the surrounding Healy Valley.

Click for More Pictures

 The picturesque Chugach mountain range provided a spectacular mural all around us as we rafted down the Kenai River.  In the distance the occasional black bear lumbered down to the water’s edge hoping for a midday salmon snack while an eagle standing guard nearby hoped for the opportunity to swoop down for his own tasty morsel.  The arctic terns performed their graceful pirouettes above the water as they, too, searched for fish.

After six hours of rafting, we arrived at our backcountry cabin. It was nestled in the forest just beyond the glacier-carved lake, which was surrounded by a million acres of wilderness.  Our cabin was everything I knew Dave would love.  It was off-the-beaten-path and the natural beauty of the hemlock forest and alpine tundra was breathtakingly beautiful.  The serenity of paddling by sea kayak on the velvet-smooth lake into the setting sun was an indescribable  experience.  As we came ashore, we knew this was definitely another special place worthy of Dave.  

So with the alpenglow illuminating the snow-capped mountains, we sprinkled Dave’s ashes into the fast-moving, glacier-fed Cottonwood Creek.

This would definitely have been Dave’s idea of perfection–a place to reinvigorate your love for the solitude and peace you find in nature.

Click for More Pictures

A gentle rain falls as I toss some of Dave’s ashes high into the air into the fast-moving current of the turquoise Kenai River in Coopers Landing, Alaska.

The shores are lined with thick brush and pine trees reaching to the skies.  Swallows are flitting around everywhere with the occasional eagle swooping down to survey the area.  Sitting majestically ahead is one of Alaska’s many pristine snow-capped mountains.  Snow-capped in July — how Dave would love it!  He would have been thrilled to know that the temperature at home is in the high 90s and is hot and humid while here we are with five layers of clothing in temperatures in the low 50s.

This is the trip that Dave and I hoped to take one day.  So everything we will experience has been planned around the way Dave would have enjoyed Alaska; perhaps not as extreme as Dave would have liked, but definitely NOT the typical touristy trip to Alaska.  We wanted to experience nature with Dave’s adventurous spirit and see the real Alaska —  in the lakes and rivers, up in the mountains, and in the backwoods.

What a perfect way to honor Dave!

Click for More Pictures

Jeff was definitely an important influence on Dave during his formative years.  Jeff not only introduced him to scouting, but he became deeply involved in scouts as Dave’s leader.  He taught him the wonder of nature and encouraged his love for the outdoors.  They hiked and camped together and worked side-by-side with many projects both in scouting and scholastically.  When we asked Jeff to make the plaque for Dave’s memorial outside the greenhouse, he didn’t hesitate to take on the job.
 
But the job was bigger than we could have imagined because, according to Jeff, everything had to be “just right.”  He had to investigate the best materials to use that could stand up to all types of weather, but would also exhibit Dave’s rustic style. Once he decided to use teak, he had to decide what to carve, buy the special tools he needed to do the job, and teach himself how to do it. After many mishaps, set-backs, and Band-Aids, he completed the plaque with Dave’s tattoo carved into the wood.  As Jeff said, “The plaque comes right off of Dave’s chest.  It’s scaled down but fits exactly.  It just feels to me it’s what he would have wanted.”  The rope border had “to be continous – never ending” like our memories of Dave.  The brass plaque gave it the finishing touch.

Thank you for remembering Dave in such a personal, creative way.  It was clearly a labor of love.
 
You’re right, Jeff, it is EXACTLY what Dave would’ve wanted.  He loved that tattoo!!

Cinque Terre is a group of five villages dramatically situated in the heart of the Italian Riviera. Until comparatively recent times, the villages were only accessible by water or trails between the villages.

We could have taken the typical tourist route on the ferry and been amazed at the sheer cliffs with the quaint little villages tucked into the mountainside. But this wouldn’t have been Dave’s way of seeing the real Italy!! So, we decided to hike from the little town of Portovenere to Riomaggiore; the first town of Cinque Terre.

We first had to climb over 300 disintegrating man-made steps up to the trail where we began our trek up the mountain. We were immediately enchanted with the view, but soon learned that it was only the first of many spectacular views; each one more magnificent than the last.

As we hiked along ledges, through groves of chestnut trees, and private villas, we remembered Dave. As the ever-present butterflies flitted across our path all along the way, we remembered Dave. And when we reached the most spectacular view of all at the Madonna di Montenero Sanctuary at the top of the mountain with the vista of the clear blue Ligurian Sea, we once again remembered Dave.

After eight hours of hiking, we found our way down the mountain through terraced vineyards to make the last ferry back to Portovenere. As we looked at the sheer cliffs with the Sanctuary high above us and realized the amazing adventure we had just experienced, I said, “Dave, we did it YOUR way!”

Cinque Terre — il posto piu bello di tutti…the most beautiful place of all.

Click for More Pictures