It’s a strange time. From my point of view, it’s always been a strange time, but this time, right now, March 27, 2020, 12:48 PM, manhandles all the others for end time weirdness. My wife and I are in relative isolation in Yuma, Arizona, ears to the Earth and eyes on the horizon, living simply and parsing what information we fill our heads with. It’s not a bad place to
For years I’ve been yammering about a forthcoming, non-bike related short story compilation. Well. It’s finished…all but the design work. Thank you to everyone who gave me that rolled-eye look when asking where I was at with it. Thank you to those who said it would never be done. Thank you to those who continually supported my efforts. Here’s a sampling of excerpts. Cartwright in the Gorge Cartwright stood
I wrote this piece for Bikemonkey Magazine. It’s about a friend of mine from Hood River, Oregon who died of Leukemia. Just a fucking great dude. Left his mark on a lot of people. So much so the town built a trail in his name. John Krakauer even commented on this piece, which for me was a great honor. The Story of a Trail (and of all trails intersecting)
The good folks at Bike Monkey asked me to do a short piece for them four or five years back. This is what they got on short notice. Had my brother been born near the Madison or the Firehole River he’d have been a fly fisherman as sure as he’d have been a matador if born in Barcelona, but he entered the world surrounded by the woods of Northern California