This summer kicked my ass. Between family visits and house projects and planning a secret, surprise wedding, my personal life has been all over the place. Life at the office has been similarly hectic, with an organizational restructure resulting in two openings on my team and a reshuffle of priorities we’re responsible for. I may have given up busy, but in its wake I feel like I’ve been forced to embrace chaos. To be honest, digging my way out of the deluge has burned a bit of my mojo.

Astute readers will notice it’s been awful quiet on the blogging front. I’ve barely published in months, and honestly I’m really disappointed to see my weekly blogging streak die. I believe writing regularly is an important exercise – one I find personally fulfilling. I started this blog to document my trips, and, if you’ll indulge me for a moment, as a way to “practice my craft”. Now that I’ve fallen “behind” I find myself overwhelmed at the idea of “catching up”. I have so many stories I want to share but am paralyzed by the sheer volume of stuff in my brain. Plus, I really want to upgrade to a new website, which has further prevented me from moving forward and investing in this platform. I have 14 blog drafts started and just. cannot. finish.

But mountains are climbed one (sometimes painful) step at a time, and I shall get back into the swing of writing the same way. Thus: this blog.

The truth is I’ve been doing a lot of writing, just not here. One of the projects I’m most proud of from this summer of insanity is our fall edition of Mountaineer magazine. It may be a small publication with a distribution of 10,000, but this edition the magazine fell to me and I’m relieved we got it out on time and relatively error free.

The process was full of learning – I’ve never produced a magazine before! Figuring out deadlines and working with contributors and making last minute red-lines was a surreal experience, and in a way a dream come true. Who doesn’t want to be Editor-In-Chief for a magazine?! Of course it takes a village, and I couldn’t have done this without an incredible team of colleagues and contributors, to whom I am forever indebted. I’m so happy to have had this opportunity, and am also relieved to hand it off for the next edition. This may very well be my first AND last Editor’s Note, and career milestones should be celebrated because.

I had no idea where to start or what to write. After researched, I opted to go with a personal story which you probably know. It felt scary and vulnerable to put this out into the universe, and it’s been exciting to run into folks who hadn’t heard and hear their feedback. I’d love to know what you think! You can view the full edition here, and without further ado, here is the full Editor’s Note:

Editor’s Note

Community is a funny thing. You can go looking for it, or it can find you when you least expect it.
Each August we host a Mountaineers staff retreat. We bring together the hardworking folks from our publishing and programs divisions to tackle one big mission-centric topic, then spend the afternoon getting to know one another over watercolor circles and canoe races. This intentional day of relationship building has turned into one of the highlights of my year.

This day is so important to me, I recently realized, because my colleagues have become my community. Like so many people at The Mountaineers, I joined to learn specific skills and was drawn into the people who make this organization so great. In my case that meant joining staff and learning to hone my communications chops in a professional marketing role. What I didn’t expect – what I still thank my lucky stars for every day – was that my days would be filled with hardworking, dedicated, passionate, risk-taking, adventurous colleagues, both in my fellow staff and in the coalition of volunteers we support.

But my connection to The Mountaineers goes deeper still. One year after joining the team, our Education Director Becca Polglase introduced me to a friend of hers who she met through, of course, The Mountaineers! She thought we might make a good match because of our shared love for enjoying the outdoors.

We met over Fourth of July weekend in 2014. Our first year took us sailing, skiing, backpacking, and kayaking. We said I love you for the first time on the summit of Mt. Adams, and, after an unsuccessful third attempt on Mt. Baker, he proposed. This summer, we surprised everyone at our housewarming party when I came out in a wedding dress. Becca officiated the surprise wedding, attended by skiers, hikers, climbers, and Mountaineers. It was our outdoor community that brought us together, supported us, and helped us celebrate. I can’t imagine it any other way.

When I say I love The Mountaineers, I mean it quite literally. That’s why I am so excited – stoked if you will – to be here working to further our mission to connect people to the life-changing connections made through outdoor experiences. I get a front row seat to the magic of our community.
In this edition we explore the idea of stoke, and how a flame – literal or figurative – keeps burning deep inside. Sometimes that flame stokes you to climb mountains, like in our piece on K2 by accomplished climber Jim Wickwire, and sometimes it inspires greater action, like for Charlie and Carol Michel, who recently made a significant donation to The Mountaineers to help us install solar power at the Seattle Program Center. Other times stoke can mean taking time to heal yourself with a trip into the mountains, as Tyrhee Moore explores in his feature, or in can mean grounding yourself on a daily basis in your own backyard, as recommended by our resident performance expert Courtenay Schurman.

To move forward in our lives we must stoke the flame and keep it burning. Every one of us does this every single day, whether we realize it or not. And we are each supported by a united Mountaineers community bonded by love for the outdoors, sharing a stoke to explore, conserve, learn about, and enjoy the lands and waters of the Pacific Northwest and beyond.