In 1960, though, we moved to Southern California in an effort to provide a healthier environment for my brothers, who suffered from
asthma, and to provide for better job opportunities for my dad who worked in construction.
I remember those early trips to California and especially the sections through Colorado where I was overwhelmed by the mountainous
terrain. I would have my father stop the car now and then just so I could get out and climb to the top of some nearby hill. Even in
California, I would have my dad drive around looking for just the right palm tree so I could climb it. Climbing seemed to be in my blood.
I loved it.

During my college years I met my future wife Marleen, and ended up taking a basic mountaineering class with her. I was so excited
about getting some formal training in the art of climbing, that I signed up for an additional class in winter mountaineering. Not wanting
my new found skills to go to waste, I encouraged my dad to hike to the top of Mt Whitney with me for my first real outing. He agreed,
and along with my brother Chris and one of his friends, we made the summit. Next, I talked my dad into climbing Mt Shasta. Our first
attempt was unsuccessful, but we ended up coming back the next year. On that trip, my father decided to stop at the halfway point, but
my brother Chris and I went on to the summit the next morning. Unfortunately, Mt Shasta would be the last climb my dad would go on.
Failing knees and age had taken their toll and he was unable to continue mountaineering. I will always be grateful for those few
adventures with my dad and all the memories they afforded me. I continued to climb though, and from there, I teamed up with a couple
of friends that I had met during my college years. They enjoyed mountaineering too, and we went on many climbs together.
In 1977 I married Marleen, and life with one another started out carefree in those early years. We spent many wonderful days
backpacking together, and I think we hiked out of nearly every trial head in Yosemite Valley.  We even did some climbing in “Joshua
Tree” and other areas. She also accompanied me on the summits of Mount Whitney and Half Dome. (Sadly, Marleen passed away on
January 14th, 2009 from breast cancer. A huge loss for myself and the family, but the greatest comfort of all, is that she is with the
Lord in Paradise, and nothing could be better than that. Marleen was an incredible wife and companion to me, and I miss her a
whole lot. But in a blink of an eye (in the scope of eternity), we will all be reunited in heaven again with the Lord Jesus).            

I continued to do more serious climbing with my friends, but those carefree times were not to go on indefinitely. Shortly after Marleen
and I had our first child I went on a climb where I ended up getting stuck on a vertical cliff with no rope for a short period of time. While
waiting for the rope to be reconfigured by my climbing partner above, I pondered the slippery moss at my feet and began to think,
“What am I doing in a position like this when I have a wife and a one year old daughter at home?” So I decided that enough was
enough, and I stopped climbing for several years.  
Marleen and I had two more children, and I became focused on family life and the construction business I was involved in with my dad
and brother Chris. The years continued to fly by until one year, an event took place that would change my life forever. Business had
been very stressful that year, and one day while driving to a job site my brother Chris pulled his truck over to the side and called 911.
He thought he was having a heart attack, but it turned out to be a severe anxiety attack.
I was hoping for a speedy recovery for him, but things just got worse. I tried to help him all I could, but nothing seemed to work. Finally,
it got so bad that he couldn’t even come to work any longer and I began to think he was done for. But one day, out of the blue, he
surprised me by showing up for work. I asked him how he was doing, but he skipped the formalities and began to tell me about Jesus.
He told me that Jesus had helped him get back on his feet and about how the Bible had played an important role in his recovery. He
also encouraged me to read the Bible and went on to say that it would change my life.
I could hardly believe what I was hearing and responded by telling him that, although I was happy about his recovery, I was not about to
read the Bible. He didn’t press me any further that day but didn’t give up on me either. About once every week he would ask me if I had
read the Bible. “Start with the Gospel of Matthew,” he would say. After a few weeks of listening to him tell me the same thing, I got tired
of hearing it and decided to find the Bible my mother had given me so many years ago. I ended up locating it in the garage buried
along with some other books, and from there, took it and placed it on the coffee table in the living room. I figured that one evening or
another I would pick it up and read it just to get him off my back. So one day I did just that. I picked it up and began reading the Gospel
of Matthew.  

After reading the genealogy of Jesus for a couple of minutes, I stopped and said to myself…….”Just as I thought……a bunch of
meaningless words.” But by the grace of God it did not end there, because during the pause I prayed the first genuine prayer of my life.
The prayer went something like this: “God if you exist, and the Bible is true, I pray that you would open my eyes so that I could see and
understand it.”  After that I continued to read for about an hour or two and with the help of God came to the following conclusion. “The
Bible is true. Jesus is who He says He is. And I am a sinner in need of a Savior.” I then went into my room, closed the door and fell to
my knees. I at that point, asked Jesus for forgiveness and asked Him to come into my life and make me a new person.
As the days went by, I could not get enough of the Bible and I read it from early evening until well into the early morning hours. My
brother was right. The Bible had changed my life. God had used it to bring me into a saving relationship with Jesus and I began to tell
my wife and anyone else who would listen all about my new found Savior. In the years to come, my wife and all our children became
Christians, praise be to God.

I finally got back into climbing some years latter when my brother Chris asked me to take him and his son Andrew to the top of Mount
Whitney. We were successful and continued to go on other adventures together until one day they experienced a terrible night out on
Mount Tyndall in the California Sierra Nevada Mountains. An unexpected storm came up early one evening and blew snow sideways
into the unprotected sidewalls of their tent. Unfortunately, it soaked their sleeping bags and they spent a miserable night out. After the
experience, Chris and his son Paul decided that they have had enough of mountaineering. They figured that there was better ways of
having fun then spending freezing nights out on a mountain.
After my brother and his sons stopped climbing with me, I decided to look up a longtime friend and climbing partner named Mike
Koerner who had climbed with me during my twenties and early thirties. I was able to get his number from his parents who still kept in
touch with us through Christmas cards, and I ended up giving him a call one day. I began by asking him how he and his family were
doing, and if he would be interested in climbing again. He was happy to hear from me and in short time we were both back climbing
again.  

Now at this point I would like to answer a question that people often ask me, and that is, why I climb. In the past I would tell them about
the incredible scenic beauty, the adventure and the sense of accomplishment that climbing affords. At the time those incentives
seemed more than adequate to explain why, and even today, they are still partially motivating. But in the last several years other
reasons have become more important. One of those being, that mountaineering has a way of stripping off the phony veneer that
people put on in every day life. When you take away the modern comforts of civilization from an individual the real person begins to
come out. Nearly every emotion surfaces at one point or another and I get a chance to see both myself and others under all sorts of
circumstances. Heat, cold, sickness, exhaustion, fear, pain, and many other trials have a way of breaking a person down to the
basics.  I find that in just a few short days of mountain climbing, I can get to know a person in such a way that would have taken me
years to discover under more normal conditions. I love that, because real friendships and not fake ones will develop from the
experience, and it is the building of those friendships that I find so motivating these days.
My goal at Timberline Trails is to share the many experiences I have had, along with others, in the great outdoors. Along with the text, I
will provide photos that I have taken over the years so that you will be able to see the awesome beauty of God’s creation. In addition to
all this, there will be sections entitled deeper insights. There, I will make every effort to tie the areas of interest into God’s word so that
you will be able to apply deeper truths to your life. It is my prayer that you will be able to glean real value from Timberline Trails and that
this site will make a difference in your life.

God bless you in all your travels,
Dave French     
Our goal at Timberline Trails is to share the beauty and adventure of God's creation with all those who are
interested in the great outdoors. But no matter who you are or where you may live, all you have to do is to
step outside your home and look about you. God is as near as you allow Him to be and His creation is
intimately tied to His everlasting Word. So be still and look closely. Listen carefully to the still soft breeze of
His loving voice. He is calling your name by means of His eternal Son Jesus Christ.

See you on the Trails,
Dave French
For since the creation of the world God's invisible
qualities-- his eternal power and divine nature-- have been
clearly seen, being understood from what has been made,
so that men are without excuse.   Romans 1:20       
I was born in Topeka Kansas along with three brothers and two sisters in the early nineteen fifties in what would
be considered today as a rural area. Growing up there was wonderful. Within walking distance of our home,
were forests, rivers and ponds that were just waiting to be explored. I spent many carefree days going out on the
sand bars of the Kansas River, climbing nearby cliffs along the railroad tracks, building forts and hunting frogs
and crawdads in the local ponds. Mom was not too keen on us wandering all over the area at such a young age,
but dad understood the adventuresome nature of boys and gave us plenty of freedom.
Biography