I never thought much about the stars. Not until I shared a tent with my Dad in the wilderness. He would gaze idly at the night sky, pointing out constellations, shooting stars, planets, and the Milky Way. His awe of what hung above our heads was infectious.
Trail Ancestry
It's hard to top hiking in the fall. The heat of summer is a thing of the past, replaced by crisp, cool nights and a kaleidoscope of colored foliage. The rustle of leaves a new sound effect to complement the bugling of elk.
Land of Enchantment
If you close your eyes and picture New Mexico, what do you see? I'd always pictured a vast, arid plateau. Maybe Taos ski resort. And ancient remnants of the dwellings of indigenous people.
Simplicity
10 feet by 15 feet. Polished concrete floor. Corrugated aluminum walls. Dimly lit only by the harsh fluorescent lighting of the hall outside. Inside, all of our worldly belongings aside from those we carry on our backs sit quietly, slowly collecting a veneer of dust.
Closing the Loop
Cleanliness is a relative concept. At least that's what I tell myself. It's an especially handy rationalization for days like today when I watch each step conjure its own dust cloud on a trail pulverized by a summer’s relentless heat and the traffic of ATVs. I am the real-life incarnation of Pig Pen.
Wyoming, Wyoming
The first time I saw the grassy hillsides sloping upward into dark green forest, I was 24. Hours earlier on the same cross country drive that moved me to Seattle, the flatland plains of the Midwest had stretched impossibly far into the distance, away from either side of my car as it zoomed down the interstate loaded with every one of my worldly belongings.
The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly
Food. Hot shower. Laundry. Grocery store. An easy hitch, or better yet, no hitch at all. Sounds basic enough, doesn't it? It's a simple recipe for the ideal resupply stop. And yet you'd be surprised by how few stops we make that check even that modest list of boxes.