After writing The Trail North, Hawk followed his passion for horses and mountainous landscapes farther north to the North Cascades National Park, where he apprenticed as a wrangler and ranch hand with the renowned Ray Courtney of the Cascade Corrals. He spent a winter in Sun Valley, Idaho, working on Mount Baldy and learning how to ski from the gathered assortment of ski bums.
While mastering one skill in one place, Hawk’s lifelong habit has been to always keep an eye out for the next challenge, the next terrain. While cherishing the view atop one mountain, he was seldom satisfied until he saw what was over the next one. The next terrain was the Colorado Rockies, where Hawk took up ranching, managing a large cattle and alfalfa ranch on the Colorado River between Grand Junction and Moab, Utah. Ever restless, Hawk began to take flying lessons, which he continued until he’d gained his commercial pilot’s license. With that paperwork in hand, he again followed the compass north to work as a bush pilot and hunting guide in Alaska. (The others hawks can only have been pleased with this turn of events.)
Seeking to broaden his formal education, Hawk pursued a BA in the Geography of Natural Resources at the University of Washington, then earned a Master’s from U.W.’s College of Forest Resources (now the School of Environmental and Forest Sciences). During the summers, he continued his bush-flying adventures, this time into the British Columbian rainforest.
Though ranching again lured him back Colorado, Hawk soon found himself working as an air-transport pilot, flying private Lear Jets. Today, he’s taking a bit of a breather and managing a series of back-country ski huts in the Elk Mountains near Ashcroft, Colorado.
We hope he’ll write another book. Or two. He’s got plenty of material. Meanwhile, The Trail North is a fascinating read.
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On call as a hospital chaplain last weekend, I step in to say hello to a tender, grieving, middle-aged father in a darkened room, sitting at the bedside of his gravely ill 24-year old son, lying in a sedated sleep. It’s been six weeks like this, the father says...
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His function in the tribe for more than a decade had been only this: to provide them with the closest thing to a real shaman that they could find. He never even knew how he did it himself, but for some reason, every time that someone in the tribe fell sick, all that...
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Still In Love
Baby, I can't explain a lot of silly things I do. I can also feel the pain every time that I hurt you. My shortcomings must be difficult for your love to endure. But when you hold me in your arms I know that I am yours. I am yours in the morning when your hair is a...





