El Guapo (the van) pulled into a pretty special parking spot last night.  It is a spot that I first experienced with my older brother (Rush) four years ago.  We were unemployed, living in his Nissan Exterra and soaking in everything the winter west had to offer.  It was the first time either of us laid eyes on the Tetons and it was too overwhelming to keep going.  We parked, took some pictures, pretended like we were the characters in a Patagonia catalog and even went for a small (very small) backcountry ride on a nearby hill (fresh out of our Avy 1 course, we still had no clue so we didn’t take any chances).

When I woke up yesterday morning in Park City, Utah with the knowledge that my day would end in Jackson, Wyoming, I knew I had to go back to that initial parking spot.  I had to pay homage to that wonderful memory, and more importantly, that wonderful trip. 

  (Now you see why this parking spot is so great.  Reading and relaxing.)

It was a trip that changed our lives.  It taught us to trust our instincts and go after the things we want.  It was also the beginning of a few self-directed opportunities that snowballed into where we are today.  Rush is now married to the love of his life.  They have a house near the beach, a dog they love and jobs they look forward to.  In other words, they are psyched!

And you all know my deal.

Simply put, that trip was the first in a series of bold decisions for both of us.  Every turn we made and every lot we pulled into helped shape our future and the notion that we might have some control over it.  To others, we were just out being irresponsible and having a good time while we were young, but to us, we were learning very important lessons about the power of going and doing.  I can say with full confidence that it all started with that trip, for both of us.

Rush is busy with his life now and I am busy with mine.

Since my last post, I have been managing the usual responsibilities while also watching the weather, lining up athletes and shooting a lot of backcountry skiing.  I am working on a project that is taking me into a new field and testing every bit of resourcefulness I can come up with, and I couldn’t be more excited about it. 

This assignment has me shooting stills, video and learning about audio (really, I am learning about all three together).  Even better, it has me charging the backcountry to do so.

My legs have earned some elevation, but they will be resting a bit this week as I have another assignment that will have me shooting at Jackson Hole and Grand Targhee resorts all week; all chairlifts and no hiking.  Actually, I have only had one other day on my resort board this entire winter, so it is a welcome change.

The next few weeks will be really busy, and I will do my best to post updates as often as possible.  In the meantime, I will see if I can dig up some images from that first visit to this now infamous parking spot of mine.

            I will be 27 years old in two days.  It is my birthday and like all birthdays, it is special.  I am sure I will talk with my family and friends, and I am hoping to be out shooting (the ultimate present for me), but it is today that is the real celebration day.  Two years ago today I had my life changing moment; my epiphany, my realization, my shot of clarity.

            March 8^th, 2008.  It was a perfect Saturday afternoon in South Lake Tahoe.  I was relaxing in front of the gas stove in my cozy studio apartment after a blissful powder day with friends.  I was sipping a mug of hot tea and was completely content with the day and with my life in general.  I was pretty busy smiling from ear to ear when my stomach hit the floor.  I felt terrible and even a bit panicked.  My elation had turned into near depression and the toughest part was that deep down I knew why.

            The same reasons for my happiness were actually the root of my despair.  I realized that I was comfortable.  I was sitting in that grey area between doing something and talking about doing something.  I had moved to South Lake Tahoe to work, learn and grow, but now it was time to make a decision.  I could keep living a fun, enjoyable and stable existence or change everything and challenge myself to move forward into the unknown.  My sinking feeling came from within because I knew which choice I would make.

            Three days later I called my Dad and gave him the news: I needed to move on.  He was proud of where I was in life and I was afraid he would think I was spoiling a really good thing.  I kept waiting for the sound of disappointment in his voice, but he just took it in, thought about it and replied, “Okay, so where do we go from here?”  Shocked and stuttering, I hit him with the second, and most outrageous, aspect of my plan: I would move into a van.

Over the course of the next month and a half, I quit my jobs (photographer at local newspapers and Digital Asset Manager in another adventure photographer’s office), sold my car, moved out of my apartment and flew down to Ventura, CA to shakily hand over a check to my future.  It was a future on wheels and my ticket to adventure, freedom and above all else, my own career path.

It was by far the scariest move I have ever made, but looking back on my life and work since then, I know it was the best thing I could have done.  I am busier, happier and working harder than ever.  Ideas have become realities and previously distant thoughts are now on the calendar.  I am pitching stories, earning assignments and talking about projects far down the road.  This is it.  This is what I was envisioning two years ago on this day and I just can’t explain how powerful that is for me.

I want to thank my family and friends for their support from the start.  I know there must have been a point (maybe there still is) where you were all thinking, “Oh no, what is he getting himself into?”  You didn’t want to see me struggle or face more hardships. You were wondering when enough is enough, and whether or not this might be the right time to intervene, but nobody expressed any of this.

Instead of showing me fear and doubt, you all gave me encouragement. It sounded crazy on paper, but those who know me saw beyond the black and white description.  You saw a defining moment in my life and I know you were all scared because of the decision you knew I would make.  All I can say is thanks for sticking by me.  You may never know how much it really means to me.

            So on this anniversary, I want to send my greatest appreciation to all of those who supported me from the beginning and who support me today.  To my loving parents, siblings, relatives, friends and perfect strangers, I would not be here without you.  Thank you.

            Today is a special day.

***Sorry there are no photos in this post, but I wanted it to be more about the words.  If you would like to check out a few new images, just click on the “Latest Photos” block on the Homepage or “Latest” in the Portfolio Menu.***