“Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving.”

When I was little my Grandpa W.D. asked me, "What do you want to do with your life?" We were sitting in the shade of a willow tree in an almost-dead town called Dufur on a hot summer day. We camped there every summer and always chose a spot near the creek, where the branches of the tree could catch the moisture and rain relief down on our hot skin. I was young, maybe 8, so that was a big question. He always asked questions as if the question was more than it was, and I remember there was always a knowing smirk when I would respond.

My answer, "To see the world."

"Swimming" in Muncy Creek in Picture Rocks, Pennsylvania.

Love her but keep her wild.

When I was young my father used to call Oregon the "land flowing with milk & honey". If you don't know the reference, it's a line from the bible and the book of Exodus. It was God's promise to Moses that his people would have a better home.

A rare photo of me in action. Photo credit to John Shufelt.

My parents moved here in 1986. They were newly married, packed their bags in to their Toyota Corolla and drove out west. It almost sounds like a great country song. Growing up my Dad always told me the story of his first drive down the Columbia River Gorge. He was a small town guy from Michigan. His childhood was the kind filled with diving in old irrigation ponds and racing down gravel roads along tomato fields. The light in his eyes when he described the Columbia River is in part why I've kept adventuring, kept seeing, kept exploring... because even if the adventure is short, every one fills you with a little more light, another story to tell later on down the line.

Goodbye 2014. Hello 2015.

"Self-criticism and judgement is the way you break your own heart." - Sarah Cuhr

Self-criticism, starts young, whether it be destroying the image in the mirror, or not liking the drawing we made in art class in Junior High, self-criticism begins the moment we realize we have an image. It's a well known statement that artists often hate what they create, and I'm no stranger to the emotional roller coaster of hating and loving (sometimes at the exact same time) my own work.