Dave Siegfried's Bio
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Born and raised in San Diego, Ca. I am an accomplished sand castle designer having won several awards and have been featured in over two newspaper gazettes. I took second place in a youth bowling tournament but lost my amateur status for trading my AllStar Seaworthy (the Snorks) stuffed animal for a cash prize. I have spent several years as a guide, leading groups of innocent city dwellers into the wild. I am a retired commercial driver, having spent my last excursion touring America on a bus filled with the elderly, visiting national land marks, becoming an advocate for gin rummy, and eating more butterscotch candy than any human should ingest in a lifetime. Currently, I am seeking adventures including but not limited to climbing, skiing, kayaking, hiking, and 17th century French poetry conventions. I live my life according to Mountain Dew commercials. Put simply: I shred the gnar.
I am an avid rock climber. I enjoy the feel the course granite on my callused hands. I seek out an adventure that might put a little blood on my clothes. I thrive on adrenaline and the thrill of losing yourself in the momentum, not over analyzing every little detail that might slow down life. I find peace in the exhilaration of being a thousand feet off the ground, exposing your vulnerability to the earth and finding yourself in nature.
In my taste death, live life philosophy, I rely heavily on three things. Instinct, Passion, and Gear. While the first is innate and cannot be taught, it can be focused, even harnessed to a Jedi level of awareness. I fuel my passion in several ways. A strict training method, gut wrenching desire, no less than 10 hours of sleep, large amounts of coffee, 30 minutes a week dedicated to paint by numbers, more bacon than most can handle, a pinch of insanity, a strong sexual lust, and an obsessive gambling addiction (note, I did not say problem. Problem infers weakness, I have none).
And I look to Backcountry for the third. My gear needs to be top quality I can count on. And I beat the crap out of it, so I know it won't last forever. When it's time to say goodbye to my favorite piece of gear I shed a tear of sadness as I just lost a close friend, but I find hope and even a smile in the notion that I get to dip my hand back into the cookie jar for something new. I don't take many friends with me on my journeys, but the ones I share those intimate moments with are closer than family. My gear is my kin. My approach to summit any obstacle. They are my tools into a rite of passage as an outdoor enthusiast.