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Springing into warmer weather. 📷: IG's @snydo with @joshuaparker and @kaileyshea_ making #GoodMoves on the trail. #GearForGood #Cotopaxi #AdventureOn #poweryourpassion

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Campsites don’t get much better than this.

12,000′; just below the summit of Sawtooth Peak in Mineral King

Also, looking for a backpacking tent? Check out @gearforgood‘s new Inti 2. It’s awesome. 

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Vibes from yesterday morning.

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Never stop fighting for the good.

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http://ift.tt/1oiRRal http://ift.tt/1EBP6RD

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Led my first multi-pitch trad climb over the weekend. “Cat in the Hat” is an Uber Classic at Red Rock Canyon near Las Vegas, Nevada.

Six pitches and 650’ of glorious Sandstone led us to the top.

Photos by Andrew Yasso

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Yea man, waterfalls.

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Good Morning Germany! ✈🌍

#Deutschland #fly #sunrise #adventureon #neverstopexploring #theadventuresofmaia

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In the shallow depths of sky, the mountains peak through in wonder.

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The Challenge 113 team arrived safely at Key West Harbour on Saturday, Sept. 12 at approximately 10:00 PM EST after 34+ hours of continuous paddling. We will update this with content of the arrival and the 113 mile trip soon!

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The 113 mile kayak trip back to Key West, FL has started. Follow the live tracker here.

Photos by @cassandraallred.

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Update from Mckay Thomas | September 9, 11:30 PM EST

Finding And Being Found

The van stopped. Where are we? It had been several hours, but nowhere near long enough. The driver got out and opened the hood with a look somewhere between Stanley Hudson and Mr. Wilson. Stephan got out to look at the engine and either knew how to carry himself or at least pretended he did. The prognosis wasn't good. The coolant was boiling and it was hot and we had hours and hours left to Trinidad. We all went to a small rest area nearby to wait it out. 

The bus was as unexpected as it was convenient. A couple got off and hurried to the bathroom and the 10 of us began exchanging glances. Shortly after a conversation with the bus driver we had emptied our van and had filled most of the empty seats on the bus.

The sun set in Trinidad to chattering and persistent bed and breakfast owners vying for our business. Oranges and purples above begged for attention. We chose one "just around the corner," which translated to a 10 minute walk or so, when sandals met the road.

Getting settled in, I was wanting to try a new travel hack Joe Jacobi, the gold medalist in our paddle group, shared with me. My laundry was getting past due and it was time to try it. I got the shower on and ready and I stepped in with two layers of clothing on. Per Joe's advice, I tried to soap down as best I could under somewhat compromised conditions. Soaping clothes while on the body felt closer to a practical joke than a best practice by the time it was too late to do anything about it. I was committed. My two layers got heavier and heavier and the soap was really just surface level. Off came the first layer, which I hung on the bar, and proceeded with layer two. It got no easier. On top of wearing clothing in the shower, I was wearing flip flops that somehow were magnetically connected to the shower floor and I nearly fell over a dozen times attempting to pick the soap up, which glides across clothing about as well as sandpaper. Joe's words circled through my mind and I crossed my fingers.

I carefully laid the towel out and then placed each wet article of clothing on top, taking care to keep all cloth within the towel area, then I rolled it up. Tight. This was step two of Joe's advice. I twisted hard, released, and placed the items on the dresser, hoping for the best. And it worked! By early morning my clothes were clean, dry. Thanks, Joe. I quietly packed to meet up at dawn for a walk through the city. 

My ankles twisted and rocked over cobble stones, scarred by hundreds of years of pooling rain water. The sidewalks were brick and decidedly newer at only a hundred years old or possibly older. Homes glowed under the rising sun. Cubans throw color on everything and every home fit in a spectrum from newly painted to completely faded. Burros hooked to wagons patiently waited to begin work. As we meandered, a long haired dachshund got cozy with us. He sat for photos and fought off the horses and people he saw as threats. We acted annoyed, but we were lying. It was nice being accepted by a local, even if he was a stray.

Top Photo by @cassandraallred.

Van Photo by @redtractorproductions.

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Update from Mckay Thomas | September 7, 11:30 AM EST

The Look of Freedom

The glow was too strong to be anything but the sun, only it was coming from the wrong place. And there were two of them. It then dawned on me that it might be light pollution off Florida. It shined hundreds and hundreds of feet off the ground and looked like the early stages of a sunset, but it never progressed. It slowly sunk behind the horizon as we left it behind, but not before we picked up the distant glow of Havana. The two states a not so subtle reminder of the return voyage. 

I laid back down, somewhat awkwardly, on top of two kayaks which had been strapped to the top deck of the ship. Davis was beside me. The cloudy ribbon of the Milky Way stretched horizon to horizon. Some of the galaxies above so clear and close their arms seemed to stretch out and welcome us. The vast universe above shrunk my identity to its most basic parts. I'm alive and I know I'm alive. That's significant. Davis and I lost hours to ideas and books we've read and truths we know. The gentle rumble of the ship was our only other companion last night.

The group was spit up between two ships, The Mirage and The Sunluver. The Mirage a 70-foot, one of a kind kayak mother ship, had one large ship hull and a second smaller hull about the height of a dock for entering and exiting kayaks. It's a brute ship, but spacious.

The Sunluver is a traditional catamaran. 44-feet, with two cabins, one in each hull. It has air conditioning and surround sound and TV. When the group was split, those on The Mirage knew where they stood. The one thing the Sunluver lacks is flat sleeping space. It's a lot smaller than The Mirage, so each ship had strengths and weaknesses.

I startled awake at six o'clock, as if night itself grabbed me, not wanting to surrender to the dawn. However, what met my eyes was confusing. I thought the ship was in a deep fog. There was nothing to see in all directions but the steady blue grey mist. As I adjusted, it wasn't a mist or a fog. The sky and the ocean were simply in harmony. The whole earth was a solid blue grey. Straight up and all around, it was all encompassing. There wasn't an end to the earth and a beginning to the sky. There was no depth, either. Everything was five feet away and 5,000 miles away. That moment lasted seconds, maybe minutes, and the dawn, when it overpowered it, somehow felt disappointing in contrast. I had met a new world that morning, one that didn't differentiate heaven from sea.

By seven o'clock Havana's skyline was in view. It was stout, concentrated. As it drew nearer, details emerged. The mildew stained buildings, the sun washed colors, and later, the music, and, as we pulled in to the marina, the dancing. Cuba was alive. 

Border patrol and customs would be too long if it were five minutes, and this was certainly not five minutes. Hours passed.

The taxi carried us through streets I would have guessed were residential, but judging by the traffic, were main arteries. Passing us on each side were American cars from the '50s. Bright blue, dark green, bleached yellow and peach, Fords and Chevys, most of them. We were on a hunt through old Havana to connect to the Internet. We had heard that the first hot spots were opening up to Cubans, but could we use those? Where were they? How should we connect?

I first saw the laptop. I didn't notice immediately, but it just looked odd somehow seeing a young girl hold a big laptop outside in a town square. Flanking her were five, no 10, could be 15 others all on smartphones. As I looked around, there were hundreds. Most of them on phones video calling. The hands holding the phones were stretched out, just higher than their faces. They were animated. I imagined them connecting with friends and family in the U.S. and elsewhere. Multiple generations video calling and texting and emailing and instagramming for the first time.

The people had a very distinct look on their faces. Aside from happy and engaged and the precious other feelings that come from our closest relationships, they looked free. They were free.

The only Internet in the country is available in public areas, like the square we stumbled upon, accessible through cards they sell each morning. A card costs three dollars and is good for one hour. The freedom was real to those with these cards, but from a country who hosts a debate that Internet should be a human right, or the removal of it constituting "cruel and unusual punishment," it felt constricting, at best, and criminal at worst. 

Bartering for 50 internet cards got the price down to $2.50 and we took it. I frantically and carefully typed in the 12-digit username and password and hit "Acceptar." My notifications cycled through the top of my phone. I was online.

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Update from Mckay Thomas | September 5, 1:45 PM EST

Light Through Yonder Coast Guard Breaks

“The first rule to this crossing is self-preservation.” Carter, our lead support for the crossing and a long distance kayak world record holder, walked the group through the strategy behind a potentially 40-hour long kayak expedition. He’s a story teller and the life of the dinner table. Afterward, we finalized our paddling partners and settled into our tandem kayaks for a short paddle. It was after we returned from the stroll around the Key West coast, Captain Bob relayed the news from the Coast Guard. Our application was denied. Last night was a real low point. This morning wasn’t much better.

The first drop landed on my arm. I swung my head around to inspect it. The next one was on top of my head. That’s when the rain started. The drops were big and clear, like only nature can create. It was the kind of rain that makes you talk like the music is on too loud. I kept thinking, “of course it’s raining.” Of course. Not only is the U.S. Government against us, evidentially the universe is, too.

As the sun reached past the palm tree line to the East, the group began milling around, and Davis was on a call. His phone ringing had become a sort of canary in the cave. We circled around hoping to simply put the trip out of its misery so we could move on with our new plans. It was then that we got word. OFAC’s license had come through! It had been sent to our captain and to the Key West Coast Guard. Was it hope? Yes. Was it false hope? Many of us weren’t sure if we could take another false start and you could see it in the team’s measured response. That’s when we heard that they were coming to meet with us.

We heard 9:30, but it was closer to 11:00 when they got here. Two of them, dressed in their blues and rolling up in a Jeep. I wasn’t sure how to respond. Here were the very people who had inflicted this uncertainty on this trip. Love always wins, but it’s not always the natural response.

Sergeant Schaughtner and his partner ended up being very sober, professional and helpful. They walked us through why the outcome kept meeting a brick wall. He explained all the reasons our trip would never work. And then, “That said, with the recent changes, we can get you outta here today."

After all that, we would end up leaving on schedule. Today, even. In three hours and counting.

From here, the fate of these posts becomes less certain. Once on the water we’ll lose the Internet and leave the hundreds this trip has captivated without news. We’ve read that wifi and Internet cafes are opening up in Havana and potentially other places. But I don’t know when we’ll have time or the opportunity. If all goes as planned, which has never been true of this voyage, we’ll be paddling back either Tuesday or next weekend, determined by our contact at NOAA, who we communicate with through, get this, a sat phone!

Until then…

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Update from Mckay Thomas | September 5, 9:15 AM EST

The Cup May Not Be Half Full

My toes tap like Morris code as they drag back and forth, dangling from my hammock, which is tied between two wood poles adjacent to our docked boat, above me hangs the Milky Way. The rest of the group is aboard and their chattering would sound like a cocktail party, if I didn’t know the truth. The mood is decidedly somber as we all begin internalizing the reality that as more time passes, Cuba gets farther away.

Hours were spent exploring different options. Different islands we could paddle to, different places we could visit in the neighborhood. But the ideas were empty and tinny. There were those in the group who more or less were ok with a new outcome. Maybe we fly to and from Cuba instead. Maybe we make the most of the time we have left in the Keys. But the large group discussion slowly factioned off in to smaller groups as the truth began to settle in: we won’t be paddling the Cuban straight. We can choose to hope, but what good is hope at odds like these?

We still have three completely separate obstacles. The first is OFAC, within the Department of Treasury. They are the ones who issue the license to enter Cuba by water. The second is the Coast Guard. They are the ones who need approve our specific expedition, including our ships and crew and each passenger. The third is the weather and time. We have a person inside NOAA who is keeping us briefed on conditions in the Cuban channel daily. Right now the weather window to paddle back to Florida is open until Wednesday, which means we would need to start paddling on Tuesday. The issue there is that we are now in the middle of a three day weekend and OFAC and the Coast Guard will likely not be up at night worrying about the crazy kayakers tapping their toes in Key West.

Amy, from Iowa, called her husband back home to get his take. Darlene, another paddler on the trip from Key Largo here in Florida, was wondering if she should simply drive home. I called my wife. Jordan, Stephan and others looked inward to find what their ambitions truly were. Are we kayakers? Is that why we came? Are we volunteers here to serve entrepreneurs in Cuba? Are we simply tourists wanting a travel story?

Doubt has a way of exposing ourselves to others. Who we are and what we’re made of becomes crystal clear in the face of near perfect uncertainty.

In the mean time we’re sailing to the Marquesas Keys, a small, uninhabited group of islands, for the weekend. In other words, we’re stalling in style. Here’s to cups, half full.

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Update from Mckay Thomas | September 2:15 EST

The Uncertainty of Adventure

The cloud cover beneath the plane flying over Georgia and Florida was a patchwork. The seams of each pillow revealed a piece of earth beyond it, speckled in toothpick structures mankind has contributed along the way. Despite the view, my 30,000 foot window offered little escape.

My first leg took me from San Francisco to Salt Lake City. The days leading up to my departure were peppered by well wishers who had followed my kayak training in the San Francisco Bay. Whether the Treasury Department and the Coast Guard approved or rejected our application to enter Cuban territorial waters, it would be in front of an audience of the curious who wondered how this trip came to be and why someone would go through with it.

Once in Salt Lake, I met up with Davis Smith, the originator and enforcer of the voyage, and the founder and CEO of Cotopaxi. His home was buzzing with his wife and three kids, his youngest, an 8-month old boy, lounging in his arms as if he were in a Lay-Z-Boy. Davis is tall and on a walk we went on through the hills behind his home, his stride was long and easy. I've found the average conversation with him is equal parts curiosity and experiential wisdom. He has stories from his hundreds of trips around the world and the many businesses he has started, and occasionally sold. But he'd rather watch the Dodgers than pack, so we were up until midnight the morning before we left. 

At the airport, there was an instant rapport that re-ignited with Jordan Allred and Stephan Jacob, the CFO and COO, respectively, of Cotopaxi. We had spent a week together recently at the Boundary Waters at the Minnesotan/Canadian border and had formed a bond paddling 20+ miles a day together. The three of us caught up while Davis took a call from OFAC (Office of Foreign Asset Control) to answer more questions about the voyage.

Securing the licenses to not only enter Cuba, but sail there, has been lumpy, at best. Davis has the perfect demeanor for the strict red tape both OFAC, within the Department of Treasury, and the Coast Guard keep offering like a sacrifice to the gods of bureaucracy. Jordan, Stephan and I kept reassuring each other, possibly only for our own benefit, that the Cuba trip will somehow pan out. It had to, after all this invested time and emotion. We'd published dozens of posts to hashtags like #cubaorbust and #challenge113 and invited over 20 people (paddlers, captains, crew, support) to meet us in Key West from all over the country to make this voyage. But our words were just that...words. 

The truth is that the fate of our expedition had poor odds. We boarded in Salt Lake and made our way to Atlanta, where we met up with Amy, just in from Cedar Rapids, Iowa, who was joining us as a fellow paddler. The rest of the group would be meeting up in Key West.

I know very little about these fellow adventurers, but I know enough to respect them and to know that I want to be stranded in the open ocean with them. The night before we flew out, Davis placed a call to everyone who would be coming in to let them know that the licenses to enter Cuban waters have not come through and that there was a good chance they wouldn't come through. Every single one opted to come. That is spirit of adventure, and the soul of this adventure. I can't wait to meet these wonderful people and to share this experience, whatever it will be, with them. 

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Challenge 113

Cotopaxi is launching an annual international expedition called Challenge 113. The purpose of this expedition is to adventure with friends, do good, and raise awareness around social causes we’re passionate about. For our inaugural adventure, we are sailing from Key West to Cuba and then kayaking back to Florida - a distance of 113 miles. While in Cuba, we will be meeting with local entrepreneurs, learning their stories, and volunteering as mentors and thought partners to help them advance their goals. At Cotopaxi, we believe livelihoods are a key component of lasting poverty alleviation solutions, one that enables individuals and communities to build sustainable pathways out of poverty.

Follow the team.