26 East

After months of anticipation and preparation, I checked the roof racks on the Syncro one last time, said good-bye to my mom and left the Gorge heading east.  With my brother Tim sitting shotgun, we pumped "The Weight" as an homage to Easy Rider and cruised down highway 26 at a steady 63 mph.  I rolled down the manual crank window, put on my sunglasses and enjoyed the dry air.

Taking turns behind the wheel, we took the in the scenery and headed towards Colorado by way of Oregon, Idaho and Utah.  Sticking to the back roads,  we moved slowly, camping by night on BLM land and cooking our meals at rest stops and state parks.

Open Country.

300 win mag near the John Day River in Eastern Oregon.

Brush fires in Southern Idaho. Bruneau Dunes.

Modern navigation.

A barn in Central Oregon.

John Day River Valley.

Dinner by Tim, mug by Snow Peak.

Does any one know what kind of snake this is?

Sunset on I-84.

Gas can, dry bags and 14 gallons of water.

Tim on a morning hike.

After four days ,  1100 miles, and 57 gallons of gas, we finally crossed over into Colorado from southern Utah.  For the next few weeks, we are cruising around CO, backpacking, fishing and enjoying the mountains.

Here are some more links,

26 East (Picasa),

John Day (Picasa),

Utah (Picasa).

Fishing at Sunset

As the sun set, we packed our poles into the Syncro and followed the windy road up the White Salmon River.  After ten minutes, Steve pointed to a large pull-off and motioned to stop.

"Crap, looks like we won't be alone," he said in reference to the two pickups parked along the metal guardrail as I rolled to a stop and pulled the parking break.

Grabbing out waders and rods, we quickly made our way down the rough trail towards the sound of rapids and the cool breeze of snow-melt river.   Staking out our positions along the water in a clear but inaudible negotiation, we readied our gear and cast into the current.

Familiar with our surroundings and excited to a freenzy by chatter from the other fishermen that Steelheads were already this far up the river, Steve and my mom cast repeatedly into the rapids, hoping to the catch the season's first fish.  I, on the other hand, watched for the occasional dive of a nearby Osprey and listened to the gurgle of the water rushing around a rock.   Distracted by my surroundings, I was content to simply be back in the water.

Despite the differences in our attentions and number of lines casted, we all fared the same.  Not so much as a nibble.  As the last rays of light faded, we marched up the hill back towards the road, each one of us smiling for our own reason.

Here are some more links,

August 10th (Picasa).

First Week

My flight landed at Portland International Airport late Sunday night, a mere 48 hours after my last day of work and, for the first time in five years, I was back in the west with no connection to the Northeast.  With a new-found appreciation for the beauty of my childhood surroundings,  I bounced around the Columbia River Gorge.  For a week, I worked on my Syncro,  caught up with family and made preparations for the first leg of my road trip.

Summer steelhead and my Benchmade Mini Barrage

Looking west down the Gorge.

Full moon.

Just bellow the Bridge of the Gods.

The Columbia River Gorge is just 45 minutes east of Portland.

Salmon lure.

A morning hike on Dog Mountain in preparation for the Goruck Ascent fundraiser for Green Berets. Sponsor me using this form.

The waterfall on the Cape Horn Trail.

My Syncro.

It feels good to be back.

Here are some more links,

The Step (Picasa),

August 14th (Picasa).

It starts with a notion..

The idea to leave my corporate design job in Manhattan and travel around taking photos and enjoying the outdoors crept into my presleep thoughts sometime in the in early spring.  Like a virus, this notion spread from daydreams to late night conversations with a few close friends.  I missed the outdoors and a sense of exploration.  Leaving a comfortable life in search of something different seemed crazy, but the more I thought it the more I realized it was the right decision.

At first, it seemed like a distant dream, years off perhaps.  Much to my surprise, steps started falling into place.  I signed a book deal with !t Books (a department of Harper Collins) for the Burning House and shot a commissioned project with The Anthropologist. These projects gave me both the money to finance my trip and the purpose to stay productive while traveling.   Eager to put my money where my mouth is, I bought a VW Syncro and made preparations.  LL Bean agreed to outfit me with the necessary camping and fly fishing equipment and I was off running.

"You're going to do what?  Have you thought this through?  What about your job?"

Next came a series of conversations with friends, family and my coworkers.  The responses were polarized, but by this point, my mind was made up.  If I didn't take a leap like this now, I probably never would.

"I want to see how far down the hole the rabbit goes."

In July, I  started condensing my things down. I gave bags of clothes to my cleaning lady to send back to her family in Trinidad and Tobago, sold odds and ends on eBay and gave away the rest to friends.  It was easier than I thought and more liberating than I could have imagined.

As the dust settled, I packed my possessions into a handful of dry bags and my GR1 and wrapped up my surfboard in preparation of  catching a a one wa,y flight back to Portland Oregon this Sunday.  From there, I will pick up my Syncro, hit the road and open a new chapter of my life.

Here are some more links,

All I Need Is (Picasa),

These Photos by Jon Levitt inspired me a lot.