by: Jodi Levine
I have had several mentors in my life, and I am grateful for them all. Some were people whom I paid for their guidance, and received meaningful growth that opened windows to new perspectives. Others were like bright gifts that showed up along the path of life. They lead me to discover more of myself and the world, to expand my edges, and led me to find beauty. Arin Trook was a friend and mentor, one of those bright gifts.
Arin influenced thousands of young people with his engaging teaching style, animated storytelling, and hunger for adventure. He always had a guitar nearby and was able to craft songs on the spot to bring playful energy or reflective moments to friends around the campfire, students in a program, or at a crowded bar for open mic night. His career led him to work with youth, teens and adults in some of the most breathtaking landscapes from Alaska to Costa Rica, in India, and throughout the United States.
Arin wove himself into many communities around the world, but a few that come to mind are Naturalists at Large, where we first started working together in California, the Audubon Expedition Institute where he led graduate level courses through Lesley University in remote wilderness throughout North America, Balanced Rock where he taught yoga in Yosemite, and most recently, the Aspen Center for Environmental Studies in Colorado where Arin was the Education Director.
Arin pushed the edges of community and education, bringing his authentic love for connection wherever he went. He wove together environmental literacy, ecological ethics, activism, mindfulness, yoga, playful spunk, community building, creativity and science into his teachings. He was dedicated to living simply, felt the world deeply, laughed hard, and strove to enjoy life.
When Arin died tragically in an avalanche four years ago, a profound ripple was sent through the communities he touched throughout his life, and gaping holes were left in his family. I remember a visceral feeling of disbelief that took my breath away. Arin was one of a kind, and if you met him, you would remember his humor, his enthusiasm for life, and his way of showing up in the world. Who else travels with a Where the Wild Things Are puppet and randomly pulls it out and starts speaking in a monster voice? It wasn’t just a phase for him… Arin and his monstie traveled together for years.
For the better part of a decade, while between seasonal outdoor education jobs, I was one of the lucky ones whose schedule matched up with his. For weeks at a time, we would head out into wild places to take in the beauty, adventure where not many people go, push our edges, play music, and experience the world around us at a slower pace.
Arin was a confident climber, and took advantage of down time between seasonal work to adventure as much as possible. He needed someone to climb with, and I had time, so we went on many road trips together. When our schedules aligned, Arin would ask something like, “Have you ever wanted to climb Wolf’s Head in the Wind River Range?” Well, I had never heard of Wolf’s Head or the Wind River Range, but sure! So off we would go, to Wyoming, or Utah, or Colorado, or Nevada… anywhere with great climbing, fresh air, and friends along the way to visit.
Wolf’s Head is a popular climbing spot deep in the Wind River Range of Wyoming. We drove for a long time on rough dirt roads, then parked in a dirt parking lot, got out our heavy backpacks with food for a week, climbing gear, clothes for a wide range of weather, fishing gear, and water. We walked 10 miles to our campsite, stopping along the way to take a dip in the lake, then set up camp, cooked a meal, and planned our climb for the next day. Our climb would be a multi pitch route on Wolfs Head, over 1000’ up in the Cirque of Towers. I was excited and nervous. My first big wall. We left camp at 4:00am to walk to the base, with a couple of granola bars in our pockets, a bottle of water, ropes, gear, and a jacket. We climbed all day with views that I can still see in my mind today when I close my eyes. Jagged gray alpine peaks, mountain lakes, and uninhibited open skies stretched out in all directions.
In the afternoon, the clouds started moving in quickly, it felt like rain was coming, and we could hear thunder. We were up high, exposed, metal gear clanging on our hips with every step, and needing to get down quickly. The rapells down were sprinkled with rain and distant lightning that was moving in fast. We just kept going, going, going, keeping positive thoughts, moving quickly, checking our gear and keeping an eye to the sky, hoping to make it down before the lightning storm was upon us. When we reached the ground, we both let out a sigh of relief and shouts of joy. It was pouring as we walked back to camp. An energizing rain.
That was one of many adventures that I readily agreed to. Each one had an element of risk, beauty, play. My edges were pulled to grow, my comfort zone was expanded, my senses were filled. I was surrounded by nature, with a dear friend who I trusted with my life and it was mutual.
Other adventures inspired by Arin included wandering through sandstone slot canyons in the desert following ancient water flows; a full moon kayak down Tuolumne River in Yosemite, walking back in the dark, singing to let the bears know we were coming; supporting each other on our own solo overnights in the San Rafael Swell; climbing a perfect crack in Little Cottonwood Canyon, Utah; surfing the back of an Xtracycle through the courtyard at Bioneers; stealth camping at the base of crags in Colorado; my first open mic!; surprised by a flash flood while walking back to camp in the desert in December to find my sleeping bag and clothes all wet, and sleeping in a cave covered with petroglyphs to get through the cold night; summiting Mt. Whitney via the climbers route with crampons and ice axes over New Year’s; finding crystals on top of Castleton Tower; accompanying me to the place where I was bitten by a venomous snake 5 years previously only to have a close encounter with a puma along the same river at Rio Sirena, Corcovado, and surfing the ”longest wave ever” in Costa Rica. There are so many more memories, blazed into my being.
I didn’t know it at the time, but those experiences were stepping stones that led me to find great meaning and direction in my life. The thing about a mentor is that they bring you outside of yourself to see things differently, which leads to growth and new understanding. Even if I had wanted to explore more and push myself, I couldn’t have gotten to the same places on my own. Having Arin as a friend-mentor (frientor?) was not always easy, as growth is sometimes painful, but looking back, the gifts outweigh any challenges many times over.
At one of the hardest moments of my life, when I was sorting through physical pain, limited mobility, and big life changes, I remember Arin telling me in a playful tone, “I am excited to see where this will lead for you.” I was taken aback, feeling that his comment was insensitive, but he genuinely meant it. He had the wisdom to know that transformation happens; that we are composting ourselves into new iterations again and again. I couldn’t see it at the time, but that was the period in my life just before I led my first homeschool gardening class that would later become Earthroots Field School. He was cheering me on from the sidelines, encouraging me to let go of the parts of life that I no longer needed in order to make space for something new and beautiful. What a gift.
Scientists, and educators are pumping out data that proves how spending time with people you care about in nature benefits our mental well being and our physical health, and builds stronger connections with people and the earth. I can attest to that, as many highlights of my life have been walking slowly through the wild world with people I care for and trust. These memories with Arin are bright gifts that have given meaningful direction to my life. I know how good it feels to soak in the beauty of the natural world, and my career with Earthroots has been aimed at sharing that gift with others.
I am grateful for Arin, grateful for the experiences that shaped him, and grateful to those who nurtured him throughout his life.You can read more about Arin from some of the communities he was close with here and here.
His essence shines on through the light amplified by his family, students, and friends. I hope that in reading this, you too, feel his glow and are inspired to walk slowly through the wild world.
