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A PROMISE
TO THUNDER

A BASE Jumper's Guide to Going Too Far, the Dog Who Saved Me, & Beautiful Shit I Learned Along the Way

A Memoir by Devin Mudcat Kelly

This is not a story of redemption.

This is a resurrection.

The Story

Part gonzo odyssey, part philosophy in freefall, this book dives into the feral art of going too far—and what happens when the edge becomes a way of life.

A hallucinogenic haymaker of a memoir—from bull riding to BASE jumping, cage fights to ayahuasca ceremonies, suicidal reckoning to sky-drunk poetry—A Promise to Thunder is scorching scripture scrawled in scar tissue.

Told from the cliffs of Lauterbrunnen, the deserts of Moab, the jungles of Nicaragua, and the sacred peaks of Peru, it's the true story of a West Point wrestler turned broken cowboy—a sky-hungry wanderer who made a religion of risk—and the dog who kept him tethered to the world long enough to learn why.

A brutal yet tender reckoning with meaning, mortality, and masculinity in the modern world. It's about charging headfirst into the fall—rage, hope, bones, and all—and clawing purpose from the air mid-plummet.

A Promise to Thunder doesn't offer easy answers.

But it does offer a dog.
A promise.
And one wild, beautiful plunge into the sky.

Devin in alpine setting overlooking dramatic valley
Devin and Thunder together in Nicaragua

Thunder & Me

Some bonds transcend explanation. Thunder wasn't just my dog—he was my anchor, my compass, my reason to keep breathing when the world felt too heavy to bear.

In the mountains, on the edge of cliffs, in the quiet moments between chaos and calm, Thunder was there. Teaching me that love doesn't always come in the package you expect, but it always comes when you need it most.

Like the time Thunder made instant friends with a pack of strays at the Ecuador-Peru border, became their pack boss within minutes, and used them as cover to cross an international border without papers. One whistle from me, and he left his new gang behind to continue our journey. Thunder didn't just adapt to any situation—he dominated it with pure social intelligence and charm.

THUNDER!

This little red dog had rock and roll in his veins. He was born for me. And I was born for him. And that's when I knew: Thunder would always be my dog.

Forever.

No matter what.

Devin in BASE jumping gear with Thunder in mountainous terrain

Thunder never questioned why I jumped. He just made sure I had a reason to land safely.

What Readers Are Saying

"A visceral, unflinching look at mental health, masculinity, and the sacred art of not dying. Kelly writes with the precision of a parachute rigger and the soul of a poet."

"This isn't just about BASE jumping—it's about finding your tribe, learning to trust the process, and discovering that sometimes salvation comes with four legs and a wagging tail."

From the Book

The depression had hollowed me out. I wasn't sad. I was done. Spent. Emptied of will. People think suicidal people hate themselves, or that they've got nothing going for them. It's true for some, but that wasn't my condition. I had everything going for me. I was athletic, charismatic, talented, and my mom even tells me I'm handsome and can read good.

I'd lived the kind of life other people fantasize about: a Division I wrestler at West Point, a vagabond cowboy riding mustangs west with the wind, a rodeo bull rider, a cage fighter in Latin America, a wandering outlaw poet with a dog named Thunder and a tattered passport full of bad decisions.

I bartended in a brothel run by connected guys pushing powder pure as the driven snow in Bogotá, climbed peaks in the Huayhuash of Peru, and drank ayahuasca with shamans in the Amazon. I'd been drunk on euphoria with a beauty queen on my arm, shouting our ambitions from rooftops like the cliché of younger years, waving dopamine and wild sex at the night as if nothing that could make us feel so high could ever again make us feel so low.

Yet here it was: the rebuttal to euphoria. I had a good run. I was tired. I wanted to die. That's how I knew it was real.

So that night, I gave myself permission. Not a cry for help. A clear, cold decision. "Okay," I told myself. "If you can't take one more fucking day, then you don't have to." I even bought what I needed to make it happen. And I still have the letters.

But when I sat down that night to take inventory of my life, something strange happened. I realized that I had crossed off every bucket-list dream I'd ever had—except one.

Wingsuit BASE jumping.

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Be among the first to experience this raw, unfiltered journey. Get behind-the-scenes content, early chapters, and connect with fellow adventurers who understand that sometimes the most dangerous thing you can do is also the thing that saves your life.

Take the leap with me. The landing zone is always better when shared.

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