Moab, UT

Recently, I found myself in strange communion with an unlikely creature. As you may have heard, our little friend Pelé was bitten on the leg by a normally deadly animal. I'll tell that tale in a bit, but first I want to explore the curious position in which I now find myself; being genuinely grateful to a snake.

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Colorado: Part 2

Most expeditions into the unknown have had a purpose, or at least sought to find and or prove something specific. However, most expeditions, when researched after the fact, tend to provide a variety of unexpected side-benefits for the explorer.  For instance, when Francis of Assisi (my mother's favorite saint) walked to Portugal, looking for God, did he know he would end up communicating with non-human animals? Columbus sailed west, when others knew the world was round, but he and his crew set off to prove it by stealing gold from people who wouldn't expect him to do it from behind!  How could he have guessed he would have found so much chocolate in his search for India's back door?  When Drake set out to sell slaves and plunder the coastlines of the Americas, he couldn't possibly have imagined it would someday net him a beautiful bay, bearing his name long after his death.

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Colorado...part 1

Why do we look for meaning in just about everything we do?  Why do the gods and demons we've created for ourselves hold many layers of meaning, even for those of us who don't believe in them?  What is so special about our solitary adventures, and why are they so pregnant with significance?

You know we are suckers for meaning, when even a breakfast cereal can be sold with the promise of triumph, if ingested before leaving the house. Even though the very ideas of value, worth, or significance  are concepts we clearly made up, I believe the search for meaning in our experience is baked into the cake of our species...and for good reason. We need stories and fiction to help us feel safe in a world where little creatures like us are underfoot as the giants of chaos and chance, are at play above. We did our best to tip-toe around these Giants, as we navigated our travels in Colorado.

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WYOMING!!!

If ever we find ourselves in need of a reminder of our incredible privilege, all we need to do is reflect on the brief time we spent in Wyoming, at the end of the summer of 2018. In that little window of time, we were fortunate enough to avail ourselves of the generosity and incredibly accessible kindness of some truly wonderful people. From the Tetons in Jackson Hole to the Sherman Granite of Vedauwoo, we drifted down a river of new friends. It is our great honor to share those experiences with you.

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A Little Green Man in Montana

This Journal entry is a little long, so I'll not be sharing any of my thoughts on the phenomena of bio-film, or how the invisible atoms which bind us together may or may not be out to kill. There is a little talk about faith, drugs, politics and racial bias here, but mostly, I'm jotting down the dailies. If you've read this far, I'm happy.

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Sins of my Father...

…even the bathrooms project an unexpected graceful elegance. While bathing in these luxurious waters, you might even forget for a moment you are sitting in a large soup of strangers, whose personal aromas blend with the fragrance of the spring to achieve maximum fart-potency.

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F is for Fairbanks, Friend, and F**ck!

To shake a fist at the sky, and grit my little teeth together in an impotent display of useless rage at no one. It feels good, not because it is effective at creating change in any given environment, but because it creates a change in me. To exhaust that sort of toxic rage, the way our fantastic machine exhausts the unburned carbon atoms in the diesel fuel I feed it. To roll into and over those pointless moments, the way our tires roll over and into the pointless potholes... You just do it. You do it every day. Eventually, you can't do it anymore, and the game is over. The trip comes to an end. Then, you get your answers. Until then, you eat, you move, you experience, you exhaust, and you roll along, red with rage, or red with delight. The choice is probably yours.

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Alaska, Schmalaska

Some days, when you are barely aware of time,

Pondering the spaces between the lines of a thumbprint is a day’s work.

Occasionally, one is occupied solely with wildness.

Some days are domestic and reassuringly normal.

But somedays, you just drive.

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Andrew Couch
Back in a State...

The border crossing was uneventful. We felt the customs agent must have either been Canadian or spent so much time around them that his friendliness was somehow amplified to Canadian levels of expression through osmosis by proximity. We also noticed a sharp increase in the number of poorly driven RV's, giant truck campers…

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