One month is a long time to pass with no blog updates.  I apologize for leaving everyone out of the loop but I hope it is an indication for how nutty things have been lately. 

My logistical marathon started nearly one month ago with an amazing weeklong assignment on the Rogue River in southern Oregon.  We had sunshine, cool water and big smiles.  I don’t know how else to describe it except that it was the perfect fit for everyone on the trip.

My four-day return to Colorado had me pulling off long sweat filled computer days inside a very hot El Guapo (the van).  It was rough, but well worth it as it allowed me the time to hop on another plane for six very nice, unplugged days in Georgia with my family and friends.  In fact, it was the first vacation I have taken in my adult life! 

I stepped back ten years and it turned out to be exactly what I needed. Board shorts, sunglasses, family, friends and my old wakeboarding stomping grounds on Lake Lanier.  That was all I wanted and it delivered.

My return flight to Colorado and El Guapo dropped me right back in the thick of things.  I managed a few hours of sleep then kick started my life again with a few hours of emails and an editor meeting coupled with a 500-mile drive, a few phone calls and the audio version of The Alchemist.  Seventeen hours later I pulled into a familiar spot in Park City, Utah at my friends’ cabin.  We had a short visit in the morning and I was off again for the final leg to Lake Tahoe.

I have been here for a week working on few new developments that I was hoping to share by now, but unfortunately it looks like they will have to wait.

As always, my time here is short. I will be taking a break from the lower 48 on Wednesday and heading to Alaska.  Two full days of travel logistics will have me on a ten-day river assignment inside the Arctic Circle and I could not be more excited!  If there was such thing as the perfect assignment for me, this is it.  I have spent a lot of time in Alaska and the Yukon Territory and so far in my travels, I have not found a place that I like better.

After that, I have set up three weeks of personal trips, stock shoots and a quick trip to Mexico for one of my best friends' wedding.  Most of my time will be in the field or on the move so please bare with me if I can’t get another post up before September.

Hasta!

“7 days of no kayaking makes one weak.”

This quote is from a bumper sticker that you can see going by on almost any rack-laden vehicle in the Reno area.  For me, it is a sight for sore eyes and I can’t think of a better way to describe this last week.

It all started with the annual Reno River Festival.  This year marked my fourth year in attendance, but was only my first year as a true spectator.  For one reason or another, I have always shot this event (mostly self-assigning), so it was a real treat to just hang out.  The camera was along for a few images but, for the most part, I just walked around and caught up with all of the kayakers that I have spent so much time traveling and shooting with in the past.


(Jackson Kayak team member Clay Wright during the Reno River Festival.)

We all did the whole story-swapping bit for most of the weekend, but it was also a great chance to talk with everyone about summer plans, future shooting and new ideas.  By the time it was all over, this week’s paddling and shooting thoughts were in motion and I was in full planning mode.

I had Monday to recover from the weekend, work through some logistics and make communications that would allow me to disconnect for a few days and wait for the call.  As it always does when it comes to kayaking, the plan literally came together at the eleventh hour.  It was eleven o’clock at night before I had a solid grasp on where people were going before all cell phone service would be lost in the northern Sierra.  I set my alarm for a 4:30 a.m. wakeup and I was set to go.

The next morning’s travel was just shy of epic with a random snowstorm slowing traffic on I-80, my limited knowledge of where I was going, last-minute grocery and equipment purchases along the way and a group of kayakers so large that we actually ended up with a convoy of nine station wagons, vans or trucks and one RV pulling it’s own shuttle car.  We were definitely a sight for each small town we passed through.  Oh, and the convoy basically started with individual vehicles in different places that all met up along the way.  To put it short, logistics were crazy.

As we closed in on our final destination, about an hour from any phone reception, you could feel the excitement growing.  I was especially psyched because I knew that instead of my usual two to four paddlers, I was going to have upwards of fifteen people to shoot.  Not only that, but we were all on a mission to be there because of this creek’s known “edge of the world” steepness.  All of the elements for a successful few days seemed to be present.

On top of all of that, I had an old college friend lined up to hang out and join us.  He had a great time, helped me out a ton (being the photographer, my logistics are usually harder than even the biggest group of paddlers) and even shot some images of me at work.  Thanks again Billy, I can’t wait until the next time we cross paths!


(Jackson Kayak team member Phil Boyer leaving the lip of one of the cleanest 50 ft falls on the planet.)

After using my first day mostly as a scouting trip, I realized that there was no way I would be able to get the image I really wanted by paddling.  My vision would require hiking all of my gear down to the river, then paddling across the river only feet above a 50 ft waterfall, then a burly bushwack of a climb up the other side of the gorge.  It seemed like a lot of work for one set of images, but that was the set I was after.  There was no question in my mind about whether or not to go for it.

I put in the time, the miles, the sweat, blood (no tears) and ensuing poison oak rash, but we got it.  The rapids lined up exactly how I had hoped they would and I was able to photograph one of the most impressive displays of athleticism and gumption I have ever seen.  It was beautiful.

It was so impactful for me to see this through my lens that I have decided to run this section of whitewater next spring.  I have some work to do before then, but I want someone out there to hold me to this.  I want to know what it is like to paddle up to the lip of this set of drops without any view of where it ends, and go anyways.

All of that aside, it was also just great to hang out with old friends and familiar faces on the water and in the woods.  After a few weeks of office work and a stomach virus, this last week really solidified why I do this.  I can’t imagine  any other life.

Now, it’s off to Downieville, California for a few more days of the same: paddling, camping, shooting and reveling in the state of being disconnected, even if only for a little while.


(Demshitz crew and Pyranha team member Jared Seiler styling "99 Problems".)


(Demshitz crew and Pyranha team members Jeremy Laucks and Graham Seiler doing a real man's portage.)


(Jackson Kayak team member Stephen Wright dropping in on 50 feet of free fall.)

This post is a part of a publishing experiment called A Steady Drip.  Go to the table of contents at www.asteadydrip.com to see more.

(Not the best framing, but hilarious upset Lulu after an unexpected swim.)

            Ten weeks of marathon traveling, logistics, meetings, shooting, planning and overall just being “On” (even in my sleep) have come to an end.  I am, of course, still the wandering vagabond photographer, but my schedule is finally a bit more open, and a bit more up to me.  You can argue that it is always that way, but I had purposely set up a very rigorous and inflexible timeline of goals and objectives over the last few months, and it is finally complete.

            Now it is back to the best part, shooting.

            We last left off in Fayetteville, West Virginia where I had imbibed in some good ole’ R&R for a few days.  After realizing that my time was up and the schedule beckoned, I bolted over to Blacksburg, Virginia for a great reunion with my buddy Luke Hopkins of Stride Stand Up Paddleboards (www.ridestride.com).  We caught up, did some scheming in the backyard (while planning out livestock possibilities in his mountain landscape), and delayed the oncoming 5-hour drive to Washington, D.C. where I had a meeting and we wanted to do some shooting.

            The next three days were very sleepless, but very productive.  From before sunrise to after sunset, the agenda was shoot, drive, plan, shoot, drive, plan, ending in an 11-hour rainy drive home to my parents’ house in Georgia.

(My tool of choice. I once had a teacher who told me to always carry a ladder and a shovel.  

Around water you don't need a shovel.)

            Comprehending that it (10 weeks of being “On”) was all over, I hugged my parents’ hello and collapsed on our couch.  After all of that, and a 10-month stretch of sleeping in my van, in driveways, on streets, mountaintops, next to rivers or wherever, I couldn’t even make it the last 30 feet to my own bed.

            I slept solidly, and immersed myself in the comfort of being at my parents’ home.  I probably would have snoozed just as well if I had passed out on the tile floor because when you are that drained, it is not about physical comfort; it is about peace of mind.  I had reached a personal and business milestone, and now it was time to revel in it by turning “Off,” at least for an evening.

            The next week was still very scheduled and productive, but it was spent with freshly brewed coffee and sweatpants while on my computer and phone in my brother’s old room overlooking beautiful Lake Lanier.  The weather was cold, rainy and perfect for my situation.

            Like I said, it was pretty busy, but I did manage to mingle with some old friends over the weekend, and I even had one amazing blowing blue sky day of sailing on Sunday.

            Of course, that all culminated into one massive Monday morning that held through all the way until right now, in a plane somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, on my way to Hawaii. 

            As these things go, there was just too much that needed to happen to worry about sleeping.  I am not too concerned about it though, because it is only in writing this update that I am getting a grasp on the gravity of my newest adventure.  It has been a temporary trip on the calendar for more than a year, and something I said I would do (although I am pretty sure I had some neigh sayers), but never really saw coming.  I’m not sure how that makes any sense, but that is the best I can explain it.

            So after 3 hours of sleep in the last 42, and a month’s fuel allowance on oversized and excess baggage, I am trading out El Guapo, the van in my parents’ driveway in Georgia, for Adventuress, my brother’s 37-foot cutter-rigged home in the middle of Honolulu, Hawaii.

            Aloha to my next marathon of shooting goals and objectives.

(I love black looking water in low light.)

(What a duo.)

How did I get here?

I ask myself this question all of the time, and as I am typing this in a first class seat while sipping on a cocktail and reminiscing about shooting two days of surfing with great people in the Channel Islands, I ask again, how the heck did I get here?

However you want to look at it, the whole first class thing was either pure luck, karma (for patiently enduring some flying hassles on the way to CA) or just a really nice woman working at the check-in counter.  I’m thinking a combination of the latter two.

But seriously, how did I get here?  Where did it all start?

You can track backwards until the day I was born to answer that question (or even before that), but a big part of it stems from a trip I made to Ventura, California (the very same place my brother calls home and where I have spent the last week) to see about a van.

            I was terrified.  I had just quit my job, sold my car, moved out of my apartment, started a business and was ready to blow all of my savings (and then some) on a van.  El Guapo (the van) was going to be my house, office, vehicle and only source of familiarity.  Again, I was terrified.  So, voice cracking, hands shaking and stomach turning, I made the deal and drove away with leftover jitters, adrenaline exhaustion and a new world of possibilities.

            But before leaving town I did three things.  I drove to the beach and stood in the Pacific Ocean long enough to get wrinkly feet, I mailed a birthday card to a friend from a local post office and I went to a grocery store to stock up for the trip (and life) ahead.

            This week I ended up at those exact three locations again and it made me think about what those seemingly insignificant places actually mean to me and how I have changed since the last time I soaked in the energy from that beach, walked those grocery store isles or dropped some mail in that same metal box.

            I have changed a lot, my view has changed a lot and my life has changed a lot, but that same passion, drive and desire that put me there in the first place has not wavered.  In fact, I would say it is even stronger.

            And that is how I got here.  So we are clear on this, HERE is not this first class seat.  HERE is living the photographic life and meeting up with new and interesting people along the way.  HERE is a no holds barred, all in style of living, working and being. HERE is swimming and shooting in the surf on a secret break wearing a smile and listening to everyone else laugh, whoop and kid around with each passing wave.

            HERE is what I strive for.  HERE is where I was headed when I first drove the van away from Ventura.

(Wax on, wax off?)

(Thanking the powers that be for this wonderful day.)

(The Dingo keeping other folks on their boats.)

(The Uh Oh feeling.)

            I cannot believe 15 days have passed since my last update.  The only word to describe it would be whirlwind.  There have been too many experiences to go through one by one and I can’t do them justice by picking out which ones are more worth mentioning than others, so I came up with an idea sometime in the wee hours of the morning while laying comfortably (in sheets!) on a bed in my brother and his fiancé’s house in Ventura, California.

            I thought I would just re-post all of my Facebook Status Updates in chronological order and let that help tell the story.  Here goes:

-Working out the next 5 months of traveling, shooting and meetings.  Crazy to think about all at once.

-Busy computer morning, but heading out now to shoot some kiteboarding for the afternoon, awwwe yeah.

-Heading out to the dessert to camp and shoot kiteboarding, in the water.  Crazy.

-El Guapo just got jacked by his own tire.

-Doublejacked.  Immobile on the side of the road round 2 for the day.  Same wheel, new problem.  I’m in for a long tow.

-Van update:  We’re rolling… on a tow truck 80 more miles to go.

-Violent blowout, body damage, shoddy AAA replacement, near wheel loss on interstate, dead studs and wheel, 80-mile tow, 2 a.m. ending.

-Airline lost my flight itinerary = airline reinstating my ticket 20 minutes before takeoff and making me run.  Made it!  (Meant to throw that update on FB)

-On a shuttle to Santa Barbara / Ventura for 2 weeks of surfing, camping, shooting, friends and family.

-Driving through Malibu.  Nutty.

-Ahhhh, San Onofre.  Beaching it till Sunday.

-Driving through Malibu again.  Ferraris amungus.

-Showered and shaven in Ventura, CA after 4 days of surfing, celebrating (brother’s bachelor party) and camping at San Onofre.

And here we are two weeks later.  Even that doesn’t quite tell it, but hopefully it gives you an idea for what all has been going on.

The eastern Oregon camping and kiteboarding trip was amazing!  It was the perfect way to cap off my time in the northwest.  Good people, good wind and a great spot.  Aside from all of that, time allowed for two sunsets of shooting, 3.5 hours of riding (without stopping!), an awesome video edit of the trip (http://www.vimeo.com/6041412) and some much needed time away from technology.

(Morning coffee and kite repair.)

(We camera folk can get a little stir crazy when waiting for a picture to formulate.)

As always, the trip ended and so did my time in the northwest.  We said our sad goodbyes and drove off in separate directions, everyone else back to Portland and myself on to Seattle to catch a flight to Los Angeles.

Enjoying my first long drive in almost two months, I sat in silent reverie, going over my summer of experiences.  It was very peaceful and relaxing and then BOOOOOM!!!!  SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

Adrenaline blasted me out of my zombie-esque state of reflection and put me in priority mode.  I grabbed 10 and 2 (Driver’s Ed. folks) and quickly looked back at the sound to see if the right rear corner of the van had dropped (indicating a blowout).  Nothing, it was really weird.  Knowing something was up with that tire / wheel, I slowly decelerated and got off of the road.  Expecting to get out and see a punctured tire losing air, I was shocked when I found a near perfectly bald donut of a tire left still inflated.  The van was sitting on the inner tube of the tire, and no air was coming out!  Minus one flap of tread, almost everything else was gone, and had obviously given El Guapo a good spanking on the way out.  The whole right rear side of the van was covered in black rubber marks and scratches from the metal interweave in the tire.  Not only that, but the remaining flap of tread had slapped the muffler into the body of the van and taken out the brake lines (found that out later).

In a state of disbelief, I pulled my jack out and had my biggest concern of vulnerability confirmed.  It was the missing scale on the dragon’s belly.  The van was way too tall and way too heavy for my current jack.  I had to call AAA and have someone do it for me.

In that process, we learned that the only jack powerful enough to pick up ole’ Guapo is the “tire lifter” on the back of a tow truck.  Oh yeah, and the threading on two of my studs was stripped.  With six out of eight lug nuts on, I was told I would be fine to go the remaining 120 miles.  Wrong.  Forty miles later I found the same tire / wheel wobbling its way right off the van.  Another AAA call and an 80-mile tow truck ride later, it was finally over and I had 24 hours to get repairs organized, bags packed and plans confirmed before flying to southern California for my brother’s 4-day surfing / camping bachelor party.  It was nuts.

(The remaining tread that slapped El Guapo silly.)

One day and some crazy airport drama later, I landed in L.A., jumped on a shuttle to Santa Barbara, rented a car and sat down for a burrito with my younger brother (taking documentary film courses in SB since he left me two months prior).  I inhaled the two-pound monster and finally felt a bit of relief.  Next mission:  Older brother’s bachelor party.

(A little R&R.)

(Warren, our brave boogie boarder, surveying the scene before shredding it.)

(Our awesome beach.)

I won’t go into too much detail on this one, but logistically speaking, we had 10 guys from different parts of the country join us for surfing and camping at San Onofre State Beach near San Clemente, California.  It was a good time had by all, and the man of the hour said it best on our drive back yesterday. 

“Guys, I had a great time with you all this weekend… but I’m glad it’s over.” 

Bleary eyed and exhausted, we all agreed.

It is a day later and our group emails still attest to the amount of fun we had this weekend and to the extent of how beat we are.

So here’s to you Rush.  May you and Sarah live the life of your dreams.  From the San Onofre crew, we love ya buddy.