Who, you might be wondering by now, is this collective WE? And what is it with these boys' trips you’ve been reading about? Is this some kind of men’s therapy group (can’timagine!), a bonding thing (maybe!), or just three good ol’ boys escaping the daily pressures of our professional and familial lives (now you’re talkin’!), seeking unfetteredrespite from all earthly cares, concerns and worries (hell yeah!), a chance to retreat to beautiful nature for a few days away from the wimmin-folk and kids (of course!) in order to seek out frivolous experiences, hedonistic escapades, and quasi-adventurous exploits(what else!)? No doubt about it, we three are the Walter Mittys of extreme outdoor action- truly adept at pursing the mild-mannered but “once more with feeling, boys” outdoor adventure. This trip to the Eastern Sierra happens to celebrate the occasion of our fifthget-together over about as many years – past bonding / therapy outings (wait a sec!)include a drenched weekend at Goldmyer Hot Springs outside Seattle in the Middle Fork Snoqualmie River in the Cascade foothills; a rambunctious canoe campout on theColorado River below Hoover Dam; redrock Southwest ramblings in and around Moab,Utah; and, last year, more painted desert immersion in Zion, Pariah, and Nevada. (Readall about it!) And now, here we are, in the big Range of Light, experiencing another memorable time together, seeking spiritual communion with - as Robinson Jeffers put it -“the astonishing beauty of things—earth, stone and water, beast, man and woman, sun,moon and stars.” And now (drum roll!) introducing the dramatis personae of the boys' trips: there's me,your guide and avatar, Tom "Gambolin' Man" McGuire, about whom you know as muchas you can glean from 55 prior trip reports and whatever other Googled dirt you can digup; along with the inimitable duo of Mike "Brock Stoker" Elsbury and Mark "thePerfesser" Bix, both heretofore unacknowledged by name. Since our trips have passedinto the realm of legendary / historic, it‘s high time to shed light on these shadowy protagonistas.Mike is an old compadre and fellow Hoosier / I.U. grad, but oddly we didn’t know eachother in Bloomington. We go back 27 years, though, to when we first moved to the BayArea and roomed together on Emerald Street in Oakland in a collective pad with some beautiful amigas. (Aaah, now dem were da daze!) Mike drove a broken down VW Rabbit(hey, it got us to Big Sur more than once!) and worked as a menial grunt at the SF stock exchange. He quickly paid his dues and learned the ropes well enough to become arespected and competent trader. Today, he spends his days in the virtual pit transacting,turning tricks, and trying to earn an honest buck in the arcane world of options and black swans, so he can call it quits like many of his less risk averse and luckier brethren who hitit big and retired to a life of luxury. For now, though, he's a wily survivor, a lone wolf,and has managed, by dint of hard work, superior wit and equanimity under fire, to hangon in an old school way (Mike’s about as old school as you can get in many ways).Captain of his own destiny, master of his fate, he is his own man and not punchin'anyone's time clock but his own. Mike's a smart, generous and devoted friend, a monster cyclist, bon vivant, lover of the outdoors, connoisseur of wine and mulberry family products, and just an all-around fine friend and person with a youthful attitude who loveslife and delights in conjuring up all manner of impossible agendas and wet dreamitineraries to titillate the imagination and rouse the leaden soul into action - dreaming
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