I have come across a number of truly genuine, honest, and inspirational people in my short time on this earth. People who at one point in their lives cared enough to invest their hard earned money, time, effort, and feelings in me. People who sacrificed their own happiness with my well being in mind, knowing full well that I may not truly appreciate their generosity until years later, if ever.

Yet for one reason or another, I have managed to lose all contact with the majority of these people. Some moved on, some passed away, and others were simply outgrown. None have been forgotten.

Maintaining meaningful relationships is something I have always struggled with. Practically every relationship I have ever been in has dissolved before I have become comfortable enough with myself to let those closest to me know how much I value their friendship. There is an unexplainable sense of fear and vulnerability in knowing that your feelings completely over shadow those of the ones you hold dear. There is also an over bearing sense of guilt in knowing that no matter how much you care for a person, your feelings simply cannot match the intensity and passion of their hearts love. I have been on both ends of this equation.

I have spent too much time biting my tongue in fear of hurting others or embarrassing myself. I have experienced too many sleepless nights wondering if things would be different if I had only said.... or done....

Life is too short.

So here I am, laid out in all my flawed glory for the world to see.

These words are the compilation of all the beautiful triumphs and tragedies I have experienced in my life, and I regret nothing.

Friends, Family, Forever.  

09/08/08 marked the day everything changed.

The constant screams of road ragers, street prophets and police sirens went silent. I walked along the concrete paths in the park across the street completely unnoticed and lost myself in the crowded sidewalks of the downtown core. With my eyes focused on my feet and my head-phones glued to my ears I managed to totally disconnect myself from my surroundings. I had let myself become hardened and cold, just like the city around me.

Once again, I was in desperate need of a change of scenery.

After taking off for a couple days I met up with my close friend and manager Wolfe Skorzik. We briefly discussed my situation and he recommended that I join him for an outdoor excursion in Milton the following weekend.

We planned on climbing a number of rock faces in the Kelso Conservation Area but were informed that all trails were closed for the day due to an adventure race relay. Something neither of us were willing to accept.

We drove around the conservation grounds and parked our vehicles on one of the side streets when we found a compromised section in the fencing. We weren't sure if it would be possible to get to where we wanted to be from this entrance but decided it was worth investigating further.

After squeezing through the small gap in barbed wire fences, trekking for hours through unmarked terrain and attempting to avoid park rangers and race participants, we finally reached our destination. No matter what obstacle was put in our path we managed to find a way around it. Giving up was never an option.

One thing this adventure has taught me is that many of the emotions I embrace in nature are the same feelings that make me uncomfortable in the city. The notion of being so deeply connected to your surroundings yet so isolated and insignificant is totally different when you are surrounded by giant cliffs and thousands of trees than sky scrapers and thousands of strangers.

Me climbing the along the rocks trying not to be seen or heard by the rangers or race participants.

The next couple of pictures were taken because we forgot to bring flashlights and were blind in the caves.

Taking advantage of the cool, mosquito free caves while I had the chance.

Tight squeeze. What awaits beyond the pinch will be explored another day.

Wolfe working his way up to the opening in the formation.

The past couple days have been extremely difficult.

I wasn't able to sleep at all Monday night. I stared at my computer screen in disbelief that the truest friend I had ever known had passed on. I clutched my phone thinking of who to call and came to the realization that in a situation like this, I would have turned to Evan.

There are no words to express the impact Evan has had on my life. Not only was he a training partner, friend, mentor, kindred spirit, and brother to me, he was my rock. Although Evan had his own demons to battle with, he was always there for me.

I miss him deeply.

For a short period of time Evan allowed me to walk alongside him on his journey. As honoured as I am to be able to say I joined Evan on his path, he always ensured that each step I took was my own.

One of the greatest memories I have of the time I shared with Evan was the day we spent training at the Red Rocks (a collection of beautiful calcified sand dunes just outside the heart of Las Vegas).

Neither of us particularly enjoyed our morning run down Flamingo Street, it was too cluttered, too plastic. We needed something different, and the Red Rocks offered a great alternative to the gated communities we ran through in Las Vegas.

As we scoped out the mountain in front of us, we roughly planned our route to the top. Once we agreed on the path we were going to take, we wasted no time tackling the obstacle in front of us.

It was ridiculously hard to keep up with Evan. He scaled the mountain seemlessly, in and out, over and under large formations as if they were non existent. We stopped only to take pictures. Once we reached the top we discussed how amazing the earth truly was, and the beauty in how close we were to civilization yet so far removed at the same time. There was a peaceful calm in the air.

Evan turned his back to me and jumped down a small section of the peak. Ill never forget what he said next, "See you at the bottom Ian, you'll find your own way down". I watched in shock as Evan took off down the mountain in his trusted Sprawl hoodie. An article of clothing that had experienced as many ups and downs as the man himself.

After a few moments of shock, I began to scale down the mountain in the opposite direction as Evan. I was making good progress until I reached a large separation in the rocks. I desperately searched for an alternative route but there was no escape, I had to jump. The fear I felt was larger than the mountain we had just scaled itself.

All of a sudden I heard Evans voice. "Just flow Ian, you'll be fine". He had been monitoring my progress and knew I was headed towards a potentially dangerous situation, yet he let me try and overcome this obstacle on my own before he interjected. I pushed myself off the cliff and we were off on our separate ways again. We reunited at his landcruiser parked at the base of the mountain.

As difficult as it has been for me to come to terms with Evans passing, it has only solidified one of the many things that Evan had emphasized while we were together... this path is mine to forge, and although the footsteps are my own, I am not alone.

I will try my best to continue moving forward as Evan would have wanted. There will undoubtedly be more instances where I will be forced to confront the depth of my being and sadness along the way. However, I will hold the memory of Evan in my heart for the rest of my days, and know that when I reach the next drop off in my life, Evan will be there to guide me through it, just as he has always been.

Until we meet again, "just flow". 

p.s. Your feedback and comments have managed to bring a smile to my face throughout these dark days. Evan touched so many lives and I am thankful to have been a part of his life, and now, through your comments and support, a part of yours.

There are no words to explain how I feel right now.

I had seen the threads on the internet about Evans disapearance earlier today and thought nothing of it. Over the past year and a half Evan and I spent a lot of time traveling, training, and living together. Just recently Evan made the trip from California to Quebec to corner me, he hadn't even moved into his appartment yet. That is just an example of the type of friend Evan was.

After my fight Evan and I spent the entire night talking about women, motorcycles, and supplies for his trip. I knew how well prepared he was for this excursion. Although Evan was somewhat of a nomad, he was also very maticulous and organized. He kept a notepad full of tasks that needed to be accomplished for the day, and as most of you know, a very detailed journal.

Evan meant a lot of things to a lot of people. To some he was a drifter, a poet, a warriror. To others he was a world champion and source of inspiration, he was my best friend. More importantly, Evan was his own man. He knew his path, and he walked it, as he will continue to walk in our hearts.

Please leave comments of memories or stories you have of Evan.

BELIEVE in the POWER of ONE.

As disappointed as I was that my fight scheduled for September 13th had fallen through, being able to relax for a couple of weeks before beginning another training camp was a much needed break for me physically. After my last fight I forced my body to ignore the fact that I had totally burnt myself out and continued to train with the intensity of my last training camp. Constantly attempting to push myself past my physical limitations allowed a number nagging injuries to resurface. It was time for a break.

It was a constant struggle to not feel as if I was being lazy, or showing some sort of weakness. Giving up never was, and never will be an option for me. 

Out of necessity I allowed myself to physically stray from the path that my heart has set for me. However, it was nearly impossible to mentally and spiritually disconnect from it. I long to be surrounded by those with the same fate as I, to feel the claustrophobia the damp walls in the locker room offer, the anticipation of combat, the roar of the crowd, and the beauty of competition.

There is only one way to reach this goal. I am tentatively scheduled to fight sometime in November. Training camp started Tuesday.

Fortune favours the daring.