Re-gifting the Gift of Adventure

Chris Hooyman was my friend and he gave me two things that I carry with me and benefit from every day: The gift of thoughtful giving and the gift of adventure. Chris and I met in Kindergarten at the Bush school and quickly became close friends. He was my best friend throughout elementary and middle school. As kids, back when I thought gifts were just something you got, Chris said “it actually feels really good to think of something that someone you care about would really like and then give it to them.” On his advice, I tried it, and he was right.

Over the years we shared a lot of adventures: Soap box derby in the alley behind his house, learning to ski then snowboard, whip cream fights, laser tag, water balloon wars, sailing, windsurfing, biking, wakeboarding, backpacking, climbing, whitewater kayaking and surf kayaking… Even when we diverged a bit in highschool, Chris was always up for dragging his less-fit old buddy out on an adventure. For him that meant running up the trail carrying both of our backpacks and then letting me rest and replenish myself with a coke and a Hostess dingdong while he finished the climb solo and then leading the way back to the car in the fading daylight. Or other times it meant dragging me out of a white water rapid and then chasing after my overturned, water-filled kayak and pushing it laboriously to shore, or running down the freeway to grab our kayaks that fell off the roof rack, blocking both lanes, because I had said bungee cords were probably ‘good enough.’ He never complained. When he got blisters, he put duct tape over them and kept going, and our adventures outside became identity-forming foundations for the adults we were becoming.

The last time I saw Chris was a random chance encounter at Alpental. We were both in college and just happened to be back in town on the same weekend, each sharing that mutually cherished spot with a new friend. Riding up chair 2 together we caught up briefly. He was, as always, psyched for my highs and empathetic about my lows. And he was, as always, skiing (telemarking) twice as hard and thoughtfully giving back to the world twice as much as everyone else I knew. He talked about how he was starting to help make outdoor adventures more accessible for kids with fewer resources and opportunities than we had had growing up. Later that day, from the lift, I saw him and his friend charging down the mountain and was filled with both a sense of pride, so proud of the badass and deeply caring man my oldest childhood friend had become (at the age of 20!) and gratitude, grateful that he was in this world and constantly making it and everyone around him better in so many ways. I think I yelled out “yah buddy!” And then, a few months later, he wasn’t in this world any more… It’s now a quarter century later but my feelings from that day are just as strong. I’m still immensely proud of Chris for who he was and proud that I was his friend. I’m still grateful for the ways he did and continues to make this world better and grateful for the time that he lived, I just badly wish it were more.

After highschool, when Chris became one of the youngest climbing guides ever on Tahoma (Mt. Rainier), I was sure that eventually I’d get in shape and we’d do a climb together. This is not how I imagined it, and I took longer than I intended, but this summer I'm finally doing it and honoring those double legacies of thoughtful giving and adventure by joining the Chris Hooyman Memorial Climb to support CHOEF and keep those gifts that Chris gave me spreading to more and more young people one adventure at a time.

This intrepid five-day climb is a feat that honors Chris's legacy and memory and his lifelong passion for providing youth outdoor education. I invite you to be a part of this adventure by making a donation for our 2024 Chris Hooyman Memorial Climb and enjoy that gift that thoughtful giving really is. Donations will support the YMCA of Greater Seattle’s BOLD & GOLD program where it is guaranteed to make more adventures happen.