Twenty years of June 6th entries and one thing is clear: this date has never once let me off easy. It started back in 2004 with a Blue Mountain epic that cycled through sun, downpour, snow, and sunshine again, all in a single afternoon. That hike ended with wildflowers and a feeling that Missoula was exactly where I belonged.
A year later, the Grave Creek Growler arrived with bloody crashes, thunder, and friends stubborn enough to push through all of it. By 2006 I was just trying to recover from a staph infection and climb Jumbo anyway. In 2007 it was a snowy University Mountain hike plus two race wins, no moose spotted but plenty of podium finishes. Then came that 2011 morning when a single phone call kept me in Missoula, a moment I still think about. Whatever happened at Hyalite in 2012 was apparently too good to need words.
The Crazies in 2015 were humbling in the best way, stumbling onto a ridge and suffering up it anyway. By 2022 the scenery shifted to Nevada and Bootleg Canyon, which was, by honest account, scary. And then 2023 brought The Whispering Trail, a piece that wandered somewhere much deeper than any summit.
June 6th keeps showing up as the day that demands something. Effort, courage, presence. Apparently that is just how this date works.