The Real Patagonia

The South American sun sets on Punta Los Lobos–Point of the Wolves.  The breakers start here and travel a mile in to shore where they crash on the beach at the tiny surfing town of Pichilemu, Chile.   La Araucaria, or the Monkey Puzzle–half cactus, half pine tree.  My...

I’ll Swim

I wake up in the bed my mother slept in, surrounded by the things that were hers.  It’s almost exactly as it was the day she died two years ago.  Sunlight has been streaming through the windows for hours and I am getting out of bed.  I tell myself I have to, I will myself to move because...

Witcher Ranch

In the spring, the calves start coming.  Coveralls get put up on the winter rack, chickens start laying eggs once again, the days get warmer and the sun shines longer.  And with every birth the herd grows in size, so long as the coyotes keep away.  This year, by Cinco de Mayo, all but one...

Going Home

You wake up at 4 a.m. The sirens blare outside your window, almost drowning out the incessant noise of college bars and trains of revelry rolling nowhere. You toss. You turn. Looking out the window, you try to remember what exactly a waterfall looks like, and how it felt when the water danced...

You’re Not Wel...

There are places you aren’t supposed to be.  Sometimes it’s a real place on the map; other times it’s in the depths of a dissentious conversation.  In the grip of China’s tightly control world, it didn’t take long to find myself in the middle of both. The trip was straightforward...

Falling In Love With...

As I laid in bed, trying my best to fall asleep on a hot night in Paris, my mind was filled with all the beautiful city sights that I had seen since I arrived two weeks earlier. The stuffy air clouded my thoughts, however, so I went to the window, threw it open, and stared out at the...

The Door

I swallowed down the last of the Glenlivet 12-year single malt.  The condensation had dripped off the glass onto an old copy of Walden sitting on my nightstand.  I sat on the edge of the bed staring at the piles of dirty clothes on the floor and ran my hands through my greasy hair. It was...

Honeymoon Bus

Thanks to Jason and Allie Hopper for allowing me to repost this journey from their honeymoon adventure. This, like the last post, is a repost from thesamba.com recounting LadyFriend®’s and my honeymoon this past summer. It was written while on the road and will be posted here in...

What Is Adventure?

It’s been almost a month since we launched Expedition Underground, and now—more than ever—I ask myself the question, ‘what is adventure?’   I thought I knew, but I’m not so sure anymore. There’s the standard definition: an undertaking usually involving danger and unknown risks....

The Maine Life

The cliffs and ocean of Portland, Maine hold many stories.  Hard working fisherman wake up at 4am to haul traps by hand, from sunrise to sunset.  The long, cold winters expose the fishing crews to much danger, the sight of shipwrecks in the freezing waves a permanent reminder. But  on Sundays the fisherman get a break, for on that day fishing is illegal–it’s God’s day.  All these stories came to mind as I walked the docks in late Spring, taking pictures of the boats and the cliffs where the Portland Headlight warns fishermen of the rugged shore. In Portland, winter is bitter and spring is rainy, but summer is...

Rushmore

A breeze wrapped the flag around its post.  In that warm summer afternoon only the tips fluttered back and forth and the wire clanked against the metal pole holding it in the air. Other flags waved around, but this one hung up there, red, white, and blue. “They’re smaller than I...