You can’t run from Mother Nature. At least, I can’t. I grunted up miles of switchbacks, tracking thunderheads as they flexed their fluffy might maybe a ridge or two over. Now above tree line, a judgment call grounded in so…
After a week of firsts and fist bumps, I huddled around a campfire, all raw muscles, beer in hand, love in heart, singing and shaking tambourines with good, good folks. One by one, our little impromptu Valley family band eventually…
Swedish Fish candies (red only) Chocolate pudding containing all of the things we couldn’t fit into our bear canister that night The charred remains of a solitary square of over-fried SPAM Multiple unidentified winged creatures, raw Crushed Pringles, with a…
To love a mountain is to get up close and personal with it – but also it, to you. It starts innocently at first, a glance out the car window or a set of concentric lines on a map leading…
