Thankful

The sun breaks the horizon. Last sip of coffee is down. Shoes are tied. Cap cannot be found. Fill the bottle to the very top. Camera at the ready. Morning breeze strikes a chill. Three zips, two snaps. Down layered warmth. Hiking stick in firm grasp. Found my cap. Dirt crunching under my feet. Climb. Quicken the pace. Crack. Both hands free. Keep going. Blueberry breakfast. Goal in sight. Push. Floor covered white. Just one more. Sip sip. A neighbor far below. Big pine surrounded. Miles of smiles. Breathe. Peak creeps closer. Powder falling down. Shutter click. Holding memories. Relax. Thankful.

Bump In The Night

Four miles into the dirt, I had enough for the night. My back was sore from driving and the temps were dropping rapidly. I opted to leave the tent packed and crash inside the car. The wind was howling and if outside, I knew I'd be up all night cursing the cold, breathing in sand. Not tonight.

I typically sleep well in the back. I've rigged up blackout curtains and pack enough blankets to keep me warm. On this night, it wasn't the cold that kept me awake. Howling came in all directions. A foreigner had entered their territory and to them, that also meant enemy.

2:34am. I suddenly felt surrounded. The howling turned to barking. Were they talking about me? Letting the others know I was there? The chorus grew closer. Investigating my presence. A pack of coyotes can be vicious if they're hungry enough, but I wasn't too concerned surrounded by mostly metal.

3:03am. Growing tired, I had enough of their cries. One fist on the horn and a flick of my headlights sent them running. The power of my voice overwhelmed their need of curiosity. This may be their ground, but I'm not the type of business they want to mess around with.

7:11am. I woke to an electric blue sky. 28 degrees felt more like -10 when I cracked open the rear hatch. I quickly healed my frozen breath with a warm cup of coffee and a few scoops of oatmeal. Scanning the area, I noticed a small cave in the hill behind me. Large enough for let's say, a coyote family to live in maybe?

Now it all makes sense. Time to hit the road...

NY State of Mind

I'm heading west to spend my final days of 2015 with family for the holidays. Pushing away from the desert, I can't seem to get New York City out of my mind. The hustle, the flavor, the cold, and the madness that is the city that never sleeps. Is it because my destination is the polar opposite? Or is my mind is telling me to push on and head out on yet another trip as soon as possible? I'll choose the latter. Between eating cookies and watching my niece and nephew unwrap Christmas presents with glee, I'll be planning, mapping, taking notes, and preparing for an exciting year to come. I can't wait. From a mind that never sleeps, I'll see you soon NYC, I'll see you soon...

Heaven On Earth

988 miles, 32 gallons of fuel, 14 hours, 32 minutes, 11 seconds, 6 liters of water, 2 oatmeal cookies, 1 apple, 4 tacos, and 3 rest stops. That's what it takes to reach heaven on earth. Heading east, there's a 122 mile section of I-70 that offers no services. No help if you run out of fuel. No help if you get a flat. No help if you have an emergency, and absolutely no cell service. To most, this is terrifying. To me, this is freedom.

It lets me know I'm one step closer to my destination of Moab. A 4x4 mecca, mountain bikers dream, the photographers paradise. This marks my 8th time being surrounded by giant, red clay monoliths and the only arches I ever want to eat under. Unfortunately, two days ago on my way out, my camera bag was stolen from my car. My planned astrophotography outing was derailed. I've made the trek to my favorite place armed with only my phone. If that isn't irony, I don't know what is. I'm trying to see the bright side looking at what surrounds me. Trying. Next stop, who knows.

Keep Going

Life is very black and white these days. It feels as though I'm running stairs leading up and down at the same time. For every forward step comes a punch to the gut. I've still got some left in the tank and plan on fighting my way through 2017 if it takes my last breath.