
(Emotionally) Naked and Afraid
In a flash of quick hugs and lingering dust, Marc was gone. I waved at his receding form a bit longer than necessary, my hand mindlessly stirring up the atmospheric inferno that was already brewing well before lunchtime. I shouldered…

The Pacific Crest Trail: An Epilogue
Three weeks ago, I sat slumped against a picnic table outside of the Tuolumne Meadows Grill, knocking back beer and fries with ravenous, calorie-deprived abandon. It was the end of my summer in the wild, living as free as I…

A Day on the PCT in the High Sierra
Without fail, I wake to a bursting bladder at 4:48 or 4:52 or some other time a hair or two before my alarm, and decide to ignore both the shrill ring and the sharp pain in search of another fifteen…

To All The Tents I’ve Loved
To my very first tent, that nameless damp canvas cavern propped up in a small clearing just north of Green Hand Bridge, within smelling distance of the wetland. You were my shelter from a merciless thunderstorm…until we abandoned you for…