Lost in Time

My love for adventure started early. As a kid in Montana, I climbed the tallest trees, scaled the highest mountains. I scorned those who stayed on the paths, which was something I never did. If there was a challenging, dangerous way to get somewhere, I took it.

I wasn't doing all this to show off. The act of jumping, soaring, or balancing gave me a feeling of freedom and exhileration that was addictive.

The call of the wild was always at my doorstep. The summer after high school graduation, some friends and I nearly pulled off a move to the forrest where we planned to build a cabin and live off the land.

Even as a married man with three children, I did things like walk across the top of swingsets. One experience in southern Utah finally taught me something about wisdom.

I shinnied up a 100 foot crevas between two rock walls. My dad, who should have known better, was right behind me. At the top, one wall gradually levelled off. I could see a hand hold, but I couldn't reach it. I would have to leap and hope my right hand could get a grip on it.

Throwing caution to the wind, I sprang upward and laterally at the same time. Clutching onto the hand hold, I pulled my body up. My dad, seeing that he couldn't go any further, scooted back down, and had to drive several miles around the rim to rescue me.

After this event where I risked my life in front of my wife and kids, I began drawing a line between adventure and fool hardiness.

I'm now a few years from reaching the end of my career as a registered nurse, but the thrill of high drama still burns within me. The only difference is that it now flows through the end of my pen.

If you've ever dreamed of going back in time to change your personal life or some historical event, then you have captured the essence of this book (at no actual physical danger to yourself). If the real event happened, you would do whatever was necessary in order to reach your goal. That would be a great responsibility, but it would also provide for great adventure.