Nov 28 2016

Returning to the Desert

The plan was to fly into Salt Lake City, rent a car and then drive down to Moab, Utah for a few days to take in the sites while running the Dead Horse Ultra 50k.  I was going to car camp while there, cooking camp food and living as sparsely as possible since I was truly broke and the only saving grace for me was a couple of credit cards that still had a bit left on them. I was meeting a friend there that had years more experience running ultras, huge 100 mile ultras and I was looking forward to the shared experience we would have.

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Upon arriving in Moab my plan quickly began to fade, it’s cold in the desert! The steady wind made it feel even more cold and the idea of sleeping in the rental while trying to keep warm and actually enjoy the experience while it’s in the 20’s overnight really started to look like a terrible idea. Over a couple of beers we ended up agreeing to share a hotel room and I was so happy to have a warm room and comfy bed to crawl into after spending the last twenty hours travelling to this desert oasis.

The next day was warmer and sunny as we headed off to Arches National Park to take in some light trail running as a warm up for the trail race the next day. The day ended up being a tour de force of running to as many arches  without exceeding the planned mileage of the day. We cruised in to Delicate Arch and enjoyed the views with about 30 of our closest friends that we have never met, friendly strangers. The sun was warm, the air was still and the views were breath taking. Running out I was bouncing around like a person without a care in the world forgetting the 50k trail race I had bright and early the next morning.20161118_110158

 

Having returned to the parking lot we were jazzed to hit the next place, the Devils Garden and its multitude of arches. We planned on running in to the Double O Arch but the mileage would be too much considering the race in the morning and the need for fresh legs to get us through our respective races, so we settled on hitting a trio of arches, Landscape Arch, Partition Arch and Navajo Arch. Running through this amazing  environment was mind bending in its amazing beauty, even the incredible cold wind couldn’t take the smiles from our faces.

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Driving through the park we kept stopping to check out every little place including Sand Dune Arch, Salt Valley Overlook and The Windows Section with Turret Arch and the North and South Windows. It was early evening by the time we left the park, hungry and thirsty we needed to hit town and call it an early day as we needed to be up at 4:30 in the morning to get to our races on time. Eating dinner at what was becoming our favorite spot to eat, the Moab Brewery we decided to grab another hotel room so we could get a good nights sleep before our races and as it went I then concluded that there was no way I wanted  to sleep in the back of an SUV, trying to recover from a 50k trail race, logic overcame budget and that was that.20161118_123819

The morning came way to quickly and 4:00am was very unwelcome but we had races to run and fun to have! Running through the desert is mind bending and surreal, it felt as if I was becoming a part of the landscape around me. The race was almost secondary to my need to just exist in this moment and savor the incredible world around me. I won’t go into detail about the race, that’s another story all together but it was an incredible life changing experience for me and as I sit here writing this I can think of only getting back out to the desert and wind my way through the desert, just myself and a pair of shoes.20161119_082206

After our races we returned to the hotel, took showers and collected ourselves both chatting about our individual experiences and the way we felt about our performances before heading back in to town for dinner and relaxation. Tomorrow was our last day in Moab, she was heading back to Montana and I would begin the arduous journey back to Alaska so we wanted to make the best of the first half of the day. We decided the best way to end the trip was the way it began and when we first met up here three days ago, we decided to hit the two big parks, Arches and Canyonlands during the visit. With Arches done Canyonlands was next on the list so in the morning we ate breakfast at the EKsentric Café, comedy of its own as we waddled around on stiff legs that haven’t recovered quite yet from racing and running into other runners who were suffering from the same fate. 20161118_124533

The drive south took only about 45 minutes and even in the subdued, overcast skies Canyonlands was spectacular, the vast openness, amazing cliffs and rock formations  were incredible and getting in the scenery around us was nearly impossible without pulling over and staring at the world rather than driving through snapping pictures on the go. We hiked very little, giving our fatigued legs a break and honestly I don’t think I was capable of any extended hiking at all giving the exhausted conditions of my legs anyway. Stopping at the Needles Visitor Center we picked up a map and headed out for the remainder of the road to see what we could see in the limited time we had.

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Stopping at the Pothole Overlook we got a short half mile walk in and were treated to incredible views of the canyon around us, it was a perfect way to spend the day. After visiting the turnout at the end of the road which also included some light walking around it was time to get back in the car and head back to Moab. Driving out of the park was just as surreal as it was driving in and I thought it was funny that I believed that after seeing everything I could see on the drive in that during the drive out everything might lose its unique quality but it didn’t, everything was just as magical the second time around.20161120_111857

Back in Moab we packed up all of our gear, threw everything in our cars, hugged each other goodbye and wished each other the best , getting in our cars we drove down the highway, each in a different direction.  Later in the evening as I was sitting in my hotel room in downtown Salt Lake City I was able to take a breath and reflect on what I have experienced over the last four days, nothing was lost on me as the whole visit and everything that took place really left a mark on me emotionally as well as mentally. There was a time I thought that Alaska was my home for the rest of my life, now I’m not to sure about that but I am sure of one thing and that is that ultramarathons are not just something I am doing now and then, they are becoming more of who I am than anything else and the need to continue it is completely overwhelming.

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I’m learning as I grow, yes I am pretty old to think like that but no matter what age we are at in life, the opportunity to grow and excel continues to drive us and this was a new drive I have been longing for. A new devotion has set in for me and the love for this new world has absorbed every ounce of my being, What this revelation will mean for me is difficult to say, could I be moving in the near future? Possibly, but for right now as I sit here at my table staring out the window and watching it snow, I know that this place, like myself is temporary and there comes a time when you know that you’ve worn out your welcome, for me that time is coming very soon.

 

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Nov 15 2014

Last Chances Never Come to Late

20140903_114231NC!AMoments come to a person while traipsing through a world of boundless possibilities, mostly where that fine line actually lies and where we are limited by what nature has decided we are allowed to be a part. I am not a fan of restriction, of being told no, of being forced to turn away. I can’t accept the power of something else controlling my will and yet this was the outcome just a day ago. Parking the car under ever darkening skies, I put the pack on Equinox and then hefted my own pack. Crossing Nome creek was more of a challenge than it has ever been, swollen and angry it attempted to take out its vengeance on my dog and me but we pulled through. I should have known……….

On the Prindle Mtn trail

The trail began dry and pleasant, but soon after it turned wet and defiant. The land is in flux, some plant life accepting the inevitable have softly turned to a pleasant shade of brown gold. There were light drips on me as I hiked into the increasingly muddy and water logged trail, as each step fell away the water flowed more, the bushes and the stunted trees shed their water on me. I was soaked from head to toe before the rains came so it wasn’t a big change for me. I kept on and then it rained, it down poured, it hailed and the wind made sure I knew whom the boss was. I stood there for quite some time waiting out the driving rain and hail, turned away from the punishing sting of hail.

Once it faded, I moved on the trail now gone and the land begins to revolt against my will to proceed. I crossed a stream that I have known many times but today I didn’t recognize it was so angry, climbing above it I watched it over my shoulder as the next wave of rain enveloped me, and again I stopped, turned away and waited for it to let up. As the rain let up to a light spray a rainbow formed down and away from me up the valley and fell over the Nome Creek, it was beautiful. I went to pull my cell phone out to take a picture but when I went into my sealed gortex shell pocket I found that it was lying in a puddle of rainwater that had forced its way through the watertight zipper.

I continued, I knew that my pack held dry and warm clothes so I ferried on. With each step I moved through the mire of mud and water. However, looking around at the world outside of the hood of my shell it was so very beautiful and the smells were amazing! There then was the half way stream, a stream generally easy to bound across was a stranger, defiant and way over loaded from the recent rains. The couple of braids that made up the stream had been completely overwhelmed and the gentle rest stop stream I knew so well was a hungry thing that did nothing to soften the realization that this was where my will to finish what I started would end and nature had had enough of my intrusion. Sometimes we have to swallow the ego, the will to go through so many barriers and realize that you can only do so much before it is just stupid to continue on, but then there was that moment just before the first drop of rain hit my head…………….

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As the seasons pass from one to another, summer to fall, fall to winter the land itself slowly melts from one form to another and here I find myself again at the trailhead, preparing to cross a much more subdued Nome Creek and taking advantage of a last chance to travel back to the world I love the most. This late in the year it’s early October and I’m treading through the landscape and feeling the soil harden, the streams freeze up and the wildlife going silent I have become numb by the beauty, the temporary transition that I am allowed to wander.

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A land in flux, a life transitioning from one form to a larger understanding and continuing to grow and become more of itself than could ever be understood, has in fact become a stranger to those who thought they knew what it was all about. This is a season that hasn’t quite been normal, a season that has decided that the things of the past aren’t truly what are meant for today or tomorrow.

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Transitioning from one point to the next, following a trail through the hills, across the mountains, fording streams and finding yourself in a land rarely witnessed and most dreamed of, watching it change from what I have always been most comfortable with to a land of unidentifiability is the land that I have lovingly wandered into. The newness of change is always exciting, new and the results are never what we thought they would be, the challenge the evolution of our minds follows the season and with the season we grow and change, growing leaving behind the ashes of yesterday.

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Nov 13 2014

Running the Rich

People pass through places they see all the time viewing the world through the windows of their cars as they drive along the road. More often than not, people rarely stop and explore that amazing land that caught their attention in the first place. It caught my attention as I bid my time and waited for the right time to see a fantasy, a daydream come true. In 2004, I first drove the Richardson Highway to shoot black and white photography of a land that is pushed up against multiple mountain ranges, I was staggered by the immensity and beauty that I had immersed myself. The area was completely obscured by smoke from the worst wildfire season Alaska had ever experienced so I never realized just how incredible the area is. Having returned the next fall, I had a better view of the area, getting amazing photographs of the landscape and still thought very little inclination of how this place could affect me.

First look

At the time I had no thought of running the road, the highway, instead I was more intrigued with hiking the area, and in time I did do that and the only time I savored the area was in passing, heading to further destinations such as Valdez or to drive the Denali Hwy making this place a passing fancy. Ten years later, this place the Donnelly Lakes Region of the Richardson Highway was my destination and running the highway for the almost 5-mile stretch of road was my mission.

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Stepping out of the car and into the warm sun was electric, the normal wind was an afterthought and the clouds evaporated leaving the unspoiled land to dry out and absorb the rays of a sun that is fading slowly into fall. Running along this stretch of highway, I could feel every footfall land silently on the asphalt with every twist and turn of the road. I kept smiling as I travelled along the road even the climbs couldn’t diminish the pleasure and sense of freedom I was feeling inside of me.

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The air is different, things seem simpler, life back there in worker/personal life world doesn’t matter, don’t exist for the moment. The contrast of the black asphalt against the rich green grasses that line the road and fall away to the many ponds and marshes in the area accent the slowly yellowing leaves of the birch tree woods that compete for beauty with the spruce trees.  Feeling the energy of this world creates a newness within myself and evaporates what was, and created a newness that I have craved for a very long time. This place holds a magical key that opens your/my mind to what is possible in the present and in the future. This amazing place, so full of life, beauty and an ability to let me see within myself as my feet fall on the road show me how to see the growth inside me and where I am aimed to be.

The Rich

 

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May 27 2013

Alone With A Stranger

Something has changed and I could feel it before even opening my eyes. There was energy in the air, like static electricity and it was everywhere. Winter has been clinging to every particle of soil in an attempt to maintain its grip on the landscape even snowing for the last few days, but this was April and something new was taking place. Normally this time of year I find myself slowly putting my ski equipment away, packing away all the cold weather clothing and reflectively watch the snow melt and recede into my memory.

This month nothing is going in the direction that we are accustomed to, it’s continuing to snow and the temperatures have remained slightly chilly this spring. Soil would begin to appear beneath the trees in the woods, the sun warms the landscape just before clouds silently slip over the horizon engulfing the skies and the snow gently falls on the melting snow blanketing the rotten old snow in a fresh, healthy shade of white. The snow continues to fall and the air remains colder than normal frustrating all of us who are itching to see springs arrival.

Falling Snow Early Spring

Willing winter to disappear and bringing forth the birth of an overdue spring isn’t doing it, as the seasons really don’t listen to us humans with our pathetic miniscule and selfish needs. The seasons move along at their own lazy pace, deciding for themselves when they are ready to move on. Impatiently, we struggle to fight off the urge to give in and pull the equipment back out of the closet to hit the trails for what could be one final ski of the year. Experience has proved that letting the season pass, quietly remembering the last wonderful ski trip with all its amazing memories is a far better way to move on to spring than heading out on this horrible snow. Floundering in the soft, melting crud that offers no purchase to my kick wax would only prove to be a futile attempt at reliving that same great day I last experienced on the trail.

Late Spring Snow

Late winter, early spring the snow continues to fall. Nowhere is any dark soil to be found, this winter that refuses to fade away relentlessly dumps more snow each day driving fear into our hearts that spring may never come. Even now with all this fresh snow it just isn’t worth pulling out my ski’s, this wet powder only covers the chopped up cruddy ice that lays just beneath it and would give way to the trash beneath at the hint of any weight. Staring out the window or standing on the porch, I watch this stranger whom I’ve never met maintain a stranglehold on my world. I’m over it, I want winter to end, the soil to dry up, the leaves to unfold on the trees, and the flowers to bloom.

The end of April comes and goes but the snow stays, weighing down branches in the trees, weighing down the thoughts in my mind. Never mind that the temperature has risen to just above freezing, the snow continues to fall. To what end this season will come is anybody’s guess, the strangeness of the season is so foreign to us all. Alone I sit and wait for this madness to subside and anticipate the return of a more rational spring to step in and push aside this craziness that consumes my life for the time being. In time, the snow will melt leaving the land to itself once again. The soil will dry and the clouds will fade away to a strengthening sun. The mosquitos will return and annoy all in this land while we duck, swat and wave at invisible and imagined insects that are seemingly constantly attacking our heads. The trees will turn green and the flowers will bloom, spring will arrive and the world will be right. Time will pass and we will forget what it felt like to go through the experience of winter’s intrusion into our spring, shortening our summer and erasing our perception of what was once a predictable change of season. Alaska just reminded us that though we know what to expect from this land we must always remember that everything is subject to change.

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Jan 29 2012

Finding Myself

As time has gone by and I through time, I’ve looked inward to myself and the person I have transitioned into. Having spent these last few years engrossed in the advancement of my experiences on the trail, I have learned a great deal about the land about me, and even more about myself. More people think I’m crazy than those that understand my devotion to the world I live in. For those that can’t comprehend why I love the trails and allow myself to “suffer” as it were on those freezing winter trails, I try to show them in the pictures or videos I take.

Certain forms of contemplation confront me during the mid-winter; trails I am travelling on aren’t just winter trails to me as they have been in the past. I know what these trails look like in the summer; I know what is living beneath the snow. Now and not as before I think about the floral and fungal life still living beneath the snow that I am enjoying, the plants are hibernating and are completely healthy but I can’t help wonder what will come of this six-month sleep the life below the snow is in.

I have only been skiing half as much as I usually do this winter; the responsibilities of life have been pushed to the front of my time against my will. I am spending more time just walking the trails, mostly at night with Equinox bounding away out of the view of my headlamp. However, not being able to ski every day as I love to do hasn’t really hurt me as I thought it might. In previous winters I have ski’d every day humanly possible and even some days that most humans would shut their door to and cuddle up to a warm fire.

Only one thing bothers me when I go out to ski when it reached temperatures below -20 degrees, the snow is unbearably slow. I can handle the cold air with clothing, with gear that covers my face and anything that is exposed to the severe cold, but the colder it gets the dryer the snow becomes. When the temperature drops below -20 degrees the snow becomes very course and ski’s lose their glide and a ski trip out on the trail essentially becomes a walk on ski’s.

Now when the temperature drops to cooler temperatures I just go for a walk, skiing would be slower anyway. I feel impatient at times with this slow mode of movement through a world that I usually kick and glide. The wilderness along the trails don’t care how I travel and neither does my spirit, I am a part of the world there knowing that I have that connection changes my entire outlook on the world around me.

I was skiing the other day, videotaping a moment on the trail to share with people who want to see the world as I do, well I was standing in the middle of a lengthy bit of overflow ice, walking along talking about the area and the ice conditions when my ski boots finally slipped on the ice and I fell to the ice. There I was laying on the ice in the middle of the trail a mile and a half from anywhere with my gear flung about with reckless abandon, me laughing my butt off at myself for looking like such a fool. A thought came to mind, what a moose hiding in the bushes might think of humans as that moose watched me flounder about the ice just to roll around creating that irritating noise.

We judge quality of life, success in life by material gain in a human society. The wilderness see’s success as surviving to see tomorrow, taking advantage of every moment that presents itself and appreciating the world around me knowing that this is a special place. Successful living for me is finding a place I love and living in that place, experiencing the world in a natural way, not controlled by social pressure. However, that is something that anybody that has a bad job doesn’t need to be preached to.

It, the whole of every aspect of the wilderness experience is everything that creates a specific quality in my life. The quality of appreciation is about understanding how life works, how we no longer are allowed to exist in nature because of what we have done to it. Being allowed to appreciate the natural world to feel it in your heart and breathing it in with every beat is a gift very few are allowed. Wandering the trails unhindered is a level of acceptance that even less understands, those that do aren’t sitting here typing on a laptop.

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Nov 8 2011

Questions

I want to know why winter affects me the way it does, how it has such a controlling grasp on every sense of my being. The first dusting
of snow is an alarm clock waking me up from a summer’s sleep, no matter where I am, I can’t stop staring out the window. Just as autumn has dazzled me with its brilliance fall came along and depressed my thoughts, my imagination, my internal eye, everything. The snow falls and finally sticks to the earth, the sun is rising less and less each day and the color palate is becoming more refined, pure and distinct.

During the summer, I can’t stop staring down to the ground, all consumed by the wonderful life successfully growing and living on the forest floor. The fungi, lichen, mosses, tiny little freaky flowers that litter the tundra on the barren hills of my world fascinate me, and identifying each and every one of them is intoxicating. As winter dawns, the snow falls, all the land and plants I treasure have been locked up for the unforeseeable future and all I can think about is when the next snow fall will occur and how long it will take for the snow to accumulate and fill in the trails making them accessible for me to ski and explore.

For reasons unknown to me, I always feel a sense of urgency when I travel on the trails during winter. Not in such a way that I need to
hurry because the day is short, or I’m getting tired, maybe low on water, or I’m soaked through from sweat and it’s getting cold out. No, it’s something outside of the typical and ordinary sense, in fact something non-physical all together. Out on the trail that sense of urgency is more of a drive that burrows into the inner self of my being. Here is a drive with a voice that speaks to me quite often, and most times is but a whisper, a whisper in my ear: “pick up the pace, you need to see what just past these trees and around that corner”.

Every time I get through those trees, every time I get around that corner I see the trail meander off into the distance and through more trees or climbing up the hillside and around the next corner. Every time I reach that place that only I can hear, that voice of urgency calls on me to continue on before it’s all gone. Dreams constantly interrupt my daily goings, fantasies of deep snow packs, trees heavily laden with snow, the frigid air still and creating a canvas of colors and imagery with every turn of the trail. Every place that the woods would relent and the valley view is exposed allowing me a picture of the wide spaces that I crave for.

The season between seasons offers none of the romance that I can find during the winters season. This place between fall and winter,
a place with no name is cruel, and un-imaginative. From summer to fall there is autumn with its amazing colors, temperate weather and reflective air of transformation. What grasp has winter woven into my being? What is it that makes winter such a core of my inner self that I can’t comprehend a life without it?

I have the questions, the understanding to consider my reality, the intelligence to know that though this season can be ugly, cold, cruel, and that I will experience weeks of uninterrupted darkness and a cold that will keep me locked up in my cabin. Winter can and will beat itself upon my bones and will, but I still drive to be out there, less people walk outsides and fewer will wander past their car doors from the house door.

I’ll be left in the kitchen with the rug rolled up in the corner, my ski’s laying over a couple of shop horses. I’m pacing back and forth from the ski’s to the ski supply box attempting to determine with wax combination will create the best glide and survive the longest in the -20 air and snow with the consistency of sand. Choosing the right kick wax will be the difference between secure forward propulsion and flailing mercilessly out in the middle of nowhere.

Winter grips my heart, tearing away the fabric of everything that I think I am. Just when I think I understand how I am adapting to the why’s and how’s of what winter does to me, everything bites me in the butt. The winters are beginning later and later every year, the snowfall is less and less every year, and winter is warmer and warmer every year. I live in the moment of the season and love what I have, having less of the year makes it more special to me than not having it at all, I am what is around me and what is around me is all that I can be.

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Oct 23 2011

A Sense Of Winter

I went for a short hike across the valley today, sunny but cool it seemed like a fine day to for me to wander out on the trails.
Trails that wander across the valley are very a way of wet bog like conditions, something not less than testing during the summer have become quite solid and freezing with the coming season encroaching from the distance. Across the valley, the air is becoming much more silent, and thickening with the retreat of living things. With winter yet more than a month away the stillness and peace that winter brings is becoming more noticeable these last few days.

As the land begins to prepare to hibernate for the coming months ahead, everything around me is going to sleep, pulling the covers over
their heads for a six month nap. I feel a stirring inside myself that is quickly awakening, like a slumbering grizzly shaking off the uneasy tiredness of a long sleep. I recognize a new energy growing within myself, a sense of oneness of my-self and the land about me. Jumping around the black spruce trees and foraging about the lichens and mosses that have become frozen monuments to a late season bloom I sense the change that is looming on the horizon.

All of the sloughs and ponds have a thin shell of ice forming on the surface; it is funny that it wasn’t there yesterday. The land during the summer is bloated and lazy without care of need; everything necessary to live has overgrown the very land it feeds. The shrinking land has atrophied and degenerated to the meekest of nature’s true character, I have to travel into special places to feel as if the world around me is still alive and well. The trails most near to me offer very little for living things, the views are less than tedious.

Snow teases the land, casually covering the soil with a sheet of white that quickly melts off by mid-day. A taste and smell of snow energizes me in ways that don’t seem familiar to me, every winter I am becoming more and more hungry for the cold, the shorter days and the incredible trails. I run on the trails every chance I get especially with the little bit of temporary snow that has settled on the ground. Being active on the trails, running as it is this time of year connects me to the land in such a way that the activity is merely an excuse to head out on the trails in the first place. Even as the light short-lived snow survives, the character of the dormant world around me stands up seemingly welcoming the inevitable season soon to come. The season is always in transition, blink and the world around me has transformed completely.

All the signs of what awaits for tomorrow is evolving quickly and I can’t keep up. A splattering of snow covers the ground for a small time before melting away into the soil, and yet days later and just as I had begun the give up hope, in the middle of October the snow arrives furious and vengeful taking over the landscape. The snow smothers the soil with only a couple of inches of cover but suffocates the world with its weight, the land suddenly collapsed upon itself instinctually realizing who the new master is.

The air cools rapidly, the grasses collapse and the trees sleep, all attempting to catch up with the late arrival of winter. Times are changing, the world is evolving and the seasons can’t be trusted to act as predictably as they have in the past. Winter is beginning later every year, the temperature has warmed significantly over the last seven years that I’ve lived here. In years past, we would regularly see the temperature drop to -50 degrees Fahrenheit and occasionally down to -60 here and there, but recently in the last couple of years we haven’t seen temperatures below -48 degrees.

Snowfall has decreased significantly and if we see a couple of feet of snow all year, we will be lucky. As climate change continues on the
land attempts to evolve and adapt to the nature of the seasons baring witness to this amazing world is my goal, living in it is my dream, and being a part of the season is what I am.

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Sep 15 2010

Going Home

Originally I was a Californian, and then I became a Las Vegan of which I was happy to be, and lavished in the baking sun of the Mojave Desert. Then it happened at great expense and to my own fault I became an Alaskan.
Though the decision to become an Alaskan was made fairly quickly, and without much thought, it was a move that had an incredible impact on my life.

For me moving to Alaska became a great pilgrimage, artistically as well as spiritually. I was deeply involved in my landscape photography and writing. I would feverishly hit the road attempting to photograph as much as my brain could absorb, completely unaware of how overwhelmed I had become by the world I suddenly thrust myself into. Gone were the great expanses of nothingness, micro worlds of fauna and nature tightly bundled in the desert to survive, exploded in savage freedom among the rolling hills and flat river deltas of Alaska’s interior.

I waited until my first winter to focus on my artistic mind, to narrow down the band width of expression that had become so jumbled in my mind.
With winter came the simplistic reality that I had been craving and began actually flexing my creative senses. Now it began to dawn on me that this is where I was supposed to be and vowed that in time I would open my gallery and write a book about what it is like to photograph in Alaska. So many books out on the shelves show all those wonderful images of Alaska’s incredible bounty of nature and wilderness without talking about the experience (both physical and emotional) and what it took to get those images.
I wanted a book that talked about the drive and less about the destination.

Then a life altering change took place that redirected the path I had chosen for myself, divorce.
Divorce removed all my artistic passion. My willingness to express any words on paper or shoot a single frame of film had drowned and sank into the depths of the depression I was experiencing. I was abruptly forced into enslavement in the common workforce of the everyday man.
Such a man, that I went to great lengths to leave behind, but there I was working two jobs seven days a week for a couple of years trying to make ends meet. Once the opportunity came to actually have a couple of days off a week I jumped at it and reveled in the time away from the drone of humanity.

In time I migrated further and further back into the wilds around me again, running the local trails, backpacking everything I saw.
The craving was growing inside me again. In winter I exploded with love for the world around me, passion welled up from within some lonely place in my body and oozed out in a rebirth that at times left me in tears.

Cross country skiing allowed me to travel further back on trails that few people if any travel when it’s twenty degrees below out, but I was breathing in the silence and emptiness of a place devoid of humanity. If and when somebody approached, another skier or (and most often) a dog musher the interruption was like a freight train blowing past me.
I started seeing things differently, in a way I haven’t seen things in quite some time. It even took a year for me to realize that my mind’s eye was looking at everything as an opportunity to photograph, that I was experiencing a want to describe what this world offers us if we just take the time to stop and stare at what’s in front of us a little longer.

Maybe I have become more mentally stable as time has gone by, separated further and further from that dark period in my past. Maybe my mind is forgetting the pain and returning back to me that person who I once was minus the whole marriage thing.
Time is affording me the opportunity to get back to the world I belong in, and if I don’t begin to place one foot before the other, I’ll lose the path all together, so here I go…….

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