Over the past few summers, my college friends and I pile into a car and drive north to camp someplace. It is my favorite time of year. We pass a bottle and pipe around the fire and share stories. A classic Northeastern scene, straight from the canvas of Winslow Homer.

Anyone who’s been camping can tell you it is the perfect time to read. There are hours to kill with few distractions.

On one particular morning, we walked fifty feet to the river and warmed ourselves on glacial boulders with cups of black coffee and our books. As the river meandered below my rock, I read an essay by Jon Krakauer called “Canyoneering” in his book Eiger Dreams.

He transported me from the Green Mountains of Vermont to the rust-colored canyons of the Southwest. Krakauer has a way of doing that. I finished the story and scribbled a poem on a blank page in the back of the borrowed book.

Go explore

Some hidden place.

Among the rocks,

Go up the face.

When I got home, I took the torn-out page from my pocket and drew an illustration to accompany the poem.

P.S. Mitch, thanks for letting me borrow, write in, and tear pages from your books.