A project I worked on based on the Burning House is now up on the The Anthropologist. For the project, I connected with 20 people from Oregon, Washington, Pennsylvania, New York, New Jersey and Massachusetts and photographed their things. The project was a blast and I am really proud of how it turned out. Take a look here.
Growing up with parents who went backpacking on their honeymoon soured my relationship with hiking as a kid. I bitched when my dad dragged me on hikes around the Columbia River Gorge and was jealous when my friends went to Mexico for spring break while we went backpacking through the Grand Canyon. "I just don't see the point of walking for the sake of walking," I often spouted on our weekly jaunts. Huffing and puffing up hills, I fantasized about chairlifts, four wheelers and other painless ways of making my way to the top of mountains.
My early attempts to distance myself from dehydrated meals and Thermarest sleeping pads proved to be futile. As my teenage insecurities subsided and my attention span lengthened, I founded comfort in cruising along trails through the woods.
After spending a few nights in eastern Oregon, Idaho and Utah, Tim and I headed towards the mountains and valleys of the Gunnison National Forest.
Slate River Valley, outside of Crested Butte CO.
Outhouses along the Gunnison River.
Avalanche chute.
My Henry lever action .22L.
Ridge top.
Reflection at 11,00o feet.
Stream crossing.
Snowfields above treeline.
Four skips.
Starch.
Remember Sinkers or Floaters from Most Extreme Elimination Challenge?
For a week, we used the Syncro as a base camp, driving around the seemingly endless single track roads. By night we slept around campfires and cooked on propane stoves. By day we hiked around the numerous mountains and tried to catch fish in the countless streams and rivers. Change happens fast when you focus on it.
Here are some more links:
I rolled over and opened my eyes. The evening thunderclouds had cleared, exposing a full moon that illuminated the eastern Oregon landscape. Shoving my head out of my mummy bag, I leaned up and looked around. The interior of the Syncro lit up like I was parked under a city street lamp.
Canon 5d Mark II, 50mm f1.4, .06 seconds.
Checking my Luminox watch, it was just 11:17 PM. After a day of hiking and driving my brother and I had called it a night soon after sunset. Peeking out of the window, I spotted Tim sleeping under a nearby juniper tree, sans tent. Cracking the window, I grabbed my camera steadied it against the window frame.
After a few minutes of walking around the high desert landscape snapping pictures, the comfort of my LL Bean sleeping bag seemed rather appealing. Gingerly hopping across the sage-covered ground, I jumped back into the Syncro to enjoy a few more hours of sleep before a hike up a nearby mountain the next morning.
Here are some more links, Pale Moon Light (Picasa), Copper Kettle (Bob Dylan).
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,
I left my job in New York in the summer of 2011 and moved into a camper. Since then, I have driven 100,000 miles around the west, surfing and camping. During the summer of 2014, I set up a home base in the Columbia River Gorge. These are some of my stories and photos.
