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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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 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...