Juneau Reflections

I looked at the Juneau Men's Summer Project website (juneaumensproject.com) and instantly I was transported back to the Summer of '05. That wasn't a particularly fun or good or enjoyable summer for me, and I still haven't really figured out why. I often feel like I missed out on something special there... But I realize that I still love that place and that experience. From my struggles while in Juneau to my struggles now, trying to unwrap what happened there, I at least know I eagerly sought God.
One experience contains a lesson that I'm still chewing on: I went on a hike with several guys who were experienced hikers. Essentially, we hiked from our base camp to the base of Eagle Glacier. The first 3 miles were easy, then we had to scale several rock faces and balance on ledges overlooking dense forest at least 500 feet below us. Once at the glacier, we filled our water bottles with historic water and began to get back to camp before dark. Just as we left, the melting glacier caused a rather large rock slide. Luckily we were shielded from the big rocks. It was rather surreal to watch large boulders roll down a 500 foot canyon wall and crash into a plateau just feet from us. The hike back was rather hard -- several times we had to hold our positions as one of our crew slipped and barely avoided going over the edge (I say 'barely', but who knows how close it actually was... to me, there were several close calls). At one point, I had to walk/slide down a steep embankment (overlooking forest at a much lower elevation) only to then have to climb a vertical rock face and then come down the other side. Needless to say, i was kind of stress out the whole time, but we all made it without injury.

That's part of the story, but it's meaning is still a mystery to me. One hard aspect for me to cope with was that while I was with these guys who generally cared for me, I was still expected to carry my own weight and look out for myself. They expected me to be able to climb vertical rock faces and balance on ledges. Maybe it was easy for them, but it was a lot to be expected from my point of view. I suspect, however, that all of us were at least a little scared. I also suspect that I regret missing the excitement of it all -- the extreme adventure that I had the pleasure of living. Instead, worry and fear fill the memories.

When I climbed the rock face, one of the project leaders, Craig Johring, was beside me hanging on to the rock and showing me where to hold and put weight. Craig was in his 50's, and was one of those guys that reminds me of John Wayne -- probably preferred to spend his time outside chewing on metal and grime. He bonded more with other guys and (justifiably) rarely talked to me up until this point. Plus, the staff left for the 2nd half of the project... only to return at the end to wrap things up. At the top of the rock, he said, 'You're a warrior, Collin.'
I certainly didn't feel like a warrior, and next to the other guys, I didn't look like a warrior, either. But it still meant something to me... if only for the moment I hesitated before going down the other side of the rock.
Two days later, at our 'end of project' ceremony, each guy had the privilege of going in to the woods and have an individual fire-lit conversation with the project leaders. When my name was called, I walked up to the fire and had no idea what they were going to say. Craig was there, and we'd talked once, earlier on in the day... and Jason was the other leader -- we talked every week about video stuff... but I didn't know either one well. First they presented me with a knife and the GPS coordinates of a rock I'd engraved with a note to myself for future findings. Then, out of nowhere, Craig starts raving about what a warrior I was on the trail that day. I felt honored.
Later that night, the staff baptized several men, including me, and then took us down to a local convenience store and let us go on a shopping spree. On a full stomach, I went with Craig and a few other guys to a remote location to watch the Northern Lights. As we laid there, I began to realize how much I had missed out on... not because of anyone else, but because I let fear and worry have too much say.

The great and currently haunting thing about Juneau is I feel it brought out a side of me that doesn't normally come out. I don't go out and climb rocks or tough it in the wild anymore. Any comparison of Juneau to my current life just doesn't work -- they're too different. But the side of me that came out is still part of me, none the less. Maybe I'm wrong, but I feel the lessons I learned are mostly applicable to that other side (aside from what I learned about God).
That 'other side' grows restless in me from time to time -- I'll suddenly have a desire to join the military and fight in Iraq... or I'll try and get away from the sprawling suburban community I live in and find a small amount of refuge at the beach or in my car -- just separate from my current life.
I don't think there's anything wrong with my life, but I need to vent this other side, too. I may be smart or a fast editor or a nice guy in my current life -- but there's not a place for a warrior.

(where else but SE Alaska can you go snag salmon fishing, see a black bear just feet in front of your face, catch and eat crab within a 20 minute span, see the Northern Lights, watch whales, and risk your life to see a glacier?... ?)