FRC

Yosemite Mountaineering School wasn’t just a program. It was a cathedral tucked in the wilderness—stone fireplaces, wood floors, big beams that looked like they’d been lifted straight from the forest and blessed with permanence. The building itself breathed purpose.

This All Started with a One-Way Ticket to the Wild It was mid-July, 1974. I was 18, freshly released from Glendale High School with a diploma and a vague sense that something big was supposed to happen next.

Reinvention 101 So here’s something I didn’t see coming: I’m a student again. Yep. Backpack, class schedule, ID card with an unflattering photo—the whole bit.