If your dad is still here,
you still have time.
Every week, one prompt. You read it, you put the phone down, and you go to him — a call, a visit, a question at the table. The walk doesn't save his stories for later. It sends you to him now.
Don't watch the waterfall through a screen.
Stand at Niagara Falls and record it on your phone, and somehow you were never really at Niagara Falls. The screen was between you and the thing. We all do it.
It's easy to do the very same thing with our fathers — to turn a living man into a project we manage. Prompts to set up. Answers to record. A keepsake to print. And somewhere in there, the actual relationship gets quietly traded for the documentation of it.
The Grizzly Walk does the opposite. It uses the best technology we could build for one purpose: to get out of your way and put you back in the room with your dad — while he's still in it.
A year of reasons to show up.
Ten lessons from the book, turned into fifty-two weeks of small, doable steps toward the man who raised you.
52 weekly prompts
One a week, the whole year. Every prompt ends with him in the room — a call, a visit, a question worth asking.
A note from Mick
A short video each week from the guy who learned all of this the hard way — and wishes he'd learned it sooner.
Built to act, not archive
No setup. No recording your dad. Read the prompt, put the phone down, and go be with him.
Your private log
Keep a few lines on how it went — what you did, what he said, what landed. Yours to hold, edit, or delete.
The Grizzly Letters
Tell us how it went. Your story might become part of the podcast — in your words, and only what you choose to share.
The Walk, bound
Optional: everything you logged across the year, printed into a field journal you can keep — and one day pass down.
One week at a time.
The road opens as you walk it — this week lit, the rest revealed in turn. No bingeing the year, no catching up to do. Just the next honest step toward your dad.
WEEK 8 OF 52Not a memory book. Not a journaling app. Not one more thing to scroll. A weekly reason to walk with him while you still can.