If there’s one thing you’ll learn real quick about Jared, it’s that he’s completely unflappable. We first met in 1997 at the Mount Washington Valley Ice Festival, and by the time Jared left, we’d decided to team up for Shipton Spire, in Pakistan. Six months later, as darkness fell on our summit day, I was bringing Jared up to a tiny stance below a verglassed chimney. We had nothing but the clothes on our backs, a summit an unknown number of pitches above, and a long, tricky descent ahead. Still, when Jared rounded the ledge, he grabbed the rack and was off up the chimney before I could express any doubts. He’s that kind of climbing partner.

These days, Jared has moved on from the life of a sponsored climber to his own construction business in Durango. He does remodeling and builds custom homes, and is cranking harder than ever. Last season, he almost sent his first 5.14.

In Greenland, we’d made it a few miles before the engine died and we had to paddle into shore and call for help. We’d been on the water only two hours. Still, Jared loved my idea for a sailing and climbing adventure in Maine. This northernmost New England state has approximately 3,500 miles of crenellated coastland, a distance longer than California’s seaboard. Follow Route 1 and you’ll pass one dead-end road after another, all leading to random little peninsulas and coves. Start exploring, like I have, and you’ll soon realize Maine also has unlimited climbing potential. The premier spots, you’ve probably heard of: Shagg Crag, Camden, Mount Desert Island, and Mount Katahdin. But there are dozens of more-obscure areas like Big Chick, Schoodic Bluffs, the Sheep Pen, and Quoddy Head. The state has everything from 1,000-foot walls, to 5.14 sport routes, to overhanging sea cliffs.