Dear Road

Nothing about going east felt right, ever since I left the Pacific Coast, so I gave in to my intuition and came back to New Mexico.

This is the results of living nomadically for four months.

This nomad needs to be stationary for a little while to catch up on life.

Leaving Yosemite for the Central Valley, one downhill road in particular was so steep, I thought I might accidentally drive off a cliff.

I walked to the Merced River and waded in its waters, one of many waters I’ve stood in across America. They all feel different.

The irony was that when I was at one of the biggest wilderness areas in the country, there was no where to camp.

My family is painfully small, so to learn about an arm of the LaRocca family that lives on the West Coast warmed my heart.

The desert is expansive. It expands you. It’s as if your soul has more space to fill … and so fills it—widening, stretching, spreading itsel

There I was in my little tent, next to a saguaro that must've been 150 years old. It stood like a guardian, watching over me that night.

There is so much silence, so many days and weeks filled with its lush richness, that I begin to notice how frivolous people are with words.

I was on my way to the home of Marcia and Guy Wood, lifelong journalists who came to live in Angel Fire about 35 years ago.

People are put on your path for a reason, and if you understand the reason and embrace it, you’ll meet more people who you’re meant to meet.

Mercury retrogrades bring reunion. They bring back into your life the people, places, and things that need revisited.

I keep wondering if this whole experiment is just a pipe dream realized for a short time before it gives way to the standard American life.

Life on the road is accelerated, a tightly-bound series of vignettes, strung together within a matter of weeks.

Maybe everyone feels at odds with themselves in their own way.

My time at Oregon Inlet National Park this past week was the most intense, exhausting camping experience of my life.

After 18 months of living in Baltimore, it's felt good to get back to the earth.

I’ve been doing my freelance work from my laptop in the college library, where I worked for three years. Only now it's completely quiet.

I arrived at Earthaven, deep in the wilderness of the Blue Ridge Mountains, around 8 p.m. on Friday, just in time to pitch a tent before...