(Reflection of Ed Cazch grabbing his rain jacket as the rain begins while packrafting on the Kashwitna
River, Alaska.)

            Today is the first day of September.  I am back in Lake Tahoe and the air is cool and breezy with the definitive feel of fall on the way.  I know we are not quite there on the calendar, but I love fall and I couldn’t be more excited.

            It is not that I like one season more than any other, but that I love every season and everything each one has to offer.  I get a new but recognizable feeling each time my environment changes.  My association of time and place allows old memories to resurface and somehow lend to the notion of creating new ones just as meaningful, or perhaps more so.

            This reverence for the season started about a week and a half ago while on my last packrafting trip in Alaska.  A new friend and I set out to cover four mountain passes and two rivers in three days over about 66-miles of backcountry terrain.  It was an ambitious undertaking but most of it was above the tree line so we figured we would give it a shot.  By cautionary procedure, we packed about 4 and a half days worth of food and also decided that if something was wrong or we just didn’t have enough time to complete the plan, we could always paddle the first river all the way out to a road.

            It turned out to be a pretty demanding trip and in the end, we did need one more day.  With my friend’s looming work schedule and my Alaskan exit on the horizon we ended up paddling out of the first river.  I can’t say we weren’t disappointed, but it was still an amazing trip.

            Hiking above tree line for the majority of the endeavor (though we still had our share of bushwacking), I noticed the moss and lichen already transitioning in color.  They were not in their full array of purple, yellow and red yet, but they were well on their way. 

It was cool, sometimes rainy and sometimes sunny.  I thought about crisp mornings and the season’s first fire in the fireplace.  I thought about riding bikes through crunching leaves with my younger brother and about drinking my Mom’s famous Russian Tea.  It felt like fall.

            I have since left Alaska for a quick trip to Mexico to witness the wedding of one of my long-time best friends.  It was a great celebration with most of my core pals from a time and life long gone.  As with the changing of the seasons, old memories resurfaced and we enjoyed them as they were, knowing we would all leave to create new ones, hopefully just as meaningful.

            Congratulations Ryan and Jen.  May your old and new memories flow together as you embark on this new journey.  I love you guys!

(Ed Cazch working his way out of one of the many valleys we crossed to get to the Kashwitna River,
Alaska.)

(Myself and Ed Cazch taking cover under boulders during a storm.)

(Drying gear and cooking breakfast at camp before the next looming storm.)

(Mt. Jefferson at sunset.  This is why I always, always, always reserve a window seat.)

(Classic travel moment.  My flight landed 10 minutes after the last shuttle to South Lake Tahoe.  
Closed Shuttle office behind me.  Spent the night at a Casino.)

(Long-time pal Ryan Harris foregoing the Mayan ruins for some bouldering the day before his wedding.)

(Brian Kasavana giving Shay Coe a hand and rope through the never-ending bush.)

            “We’re back on the scale folks!”

            I was in a new place with new people, pursuing a new form of exploration (packrafting – new to me) when someone belted out this new phrase.  I had just enough time to take in the words before a rogue Alder branch slammed me in the face, quickening my understanding of exactly what it meant.

            It meant we were in it.  We were committed.  We were bushwacking until we found our river and there was no reason to expect anything different.  Rainy, thick, steep bushwacking.

            When pursuing a new activity, there is always some sort of learning curve.  For me it has been figuring out how to pack everything I need on multiday packraft trips without carrying too much weight.  When you factor in clothing for the Alaskan weather, cold water paddling equipment (drysuit, PFD, helmet, paddle, packraft and safety gear), camping gear, food, camera gear and special bags / holsters for carrying camera equipment accessibly, you have one mound of gear to deal with.

            Unfortunately, I chose this trip to experiment with the learning curve.  I learned very quickly that I had packed a very light, space-consuming item (PFD / lifejacket) near the bottom because I wouldn’t need it for a while.  In my thoughts of accessibility over weight distribution, I had inadvertently forced myself to pack a few heavier items higher in the pack, making for an exhausting top-heavy pack.  Not fun on the trail and definitely not fun in the bush.

            The reason I am spending some time on this is that like all decisions, it had a ripple effect.  Because the pack was tall and top-heavy it swung around at the shoulders.  Instead of asking for a stop and fix, I just kept going which was even worse.  Then my expedition size and strength backpack (which I have trusted for years under heavy stress) gave out and the right shoulder strap ripped completely free from the pack.  One bad move had led to another and before I knew it, I had dug my own grave.  This was only a few hours into a demanding three-day trip.

            I agree it was a rookie move but knowing that I will always carry at least twenty pounds more than everyone in every group I go out with, I think about weight a little differently.  Basically, I accept it.  In this case, I accepted poor weight distribution in place of just being heavier than everyone.  Bad move.

            The rest of the bushwacking endeavor was spent hauling all of my weight on my hips and left shoulder, which was of course not very comfortable or very efficient for my energy use.

            We were definitely, “on the scale.”

            My intent about the backpack and bushwacking situation is not to make the trip sound negative, but to show how important even small decisions can be.

            In all, the trip was a success.  We powered through a lot of northern jungle and even had some respite on the tundra here and there which gave way to amazing views and wildlife encounters.  We spent an unplanned night on the river, but one group member had it in him to stand in the freezing water and cold rain to catch a salmon for us to cook over the campfire.  Brian, you are my hero for that. 

The crew was very strong and I am happy to come out of it with a few new friends.  Thanks again for having me along!

            Aside from that trip, I have also had the opportunity to pull off packrafting trips on the Resurrection River, Kenai, Russian River and even a 40-mile day trip from Girdwood to Eagle River over Crow Pass.

            For some reason, packrafting seems to be synonymous with words like mission or epic (both of which I have used too often lately) but I wouldn’t have it any other way.


(A beautiful and deserved tundra breakfast.)

(Shay Coe pulling Devil's Club thorns out of his hands.)

(Morning on the tundra.  Note the big male Caribou on the hill.)

(Our unplanned river camp.)

(Shay Coe cooking up some salmon as the fishing hero Brian Kasavana looks on.)

(Inger Hanson on her way up Crow Pass during one of the most beautiful summer days the Anchorage area has seen.)

(Some logistics require hitch-hiking, which is less doable when you get off the river at 11 pm.  This day did not end until around 4:30 am.)

(Back in my Alaska uniform, rain gear and a lifejacket.)

            Twelve days of logistics, commercial flights, bush flights, shooting, fishing, paddling, sleeping on the ground, campfires, fresh fish, local culture, new friends and no showers.  And that is only the beginning!

            My time in Alaska started with an amazing assignment for Boys’ Life Magazine that put me on a 9-day river trip in the Arctic Circle with some of the most accomplished teenagers I have encountered.  Not many folks can handle remote wilderness for extended periods, and especially teens, but this group showed strength, aptitude and an overall desire to do something no other troop has ever done.  As much fun as they had on the trip, I might be able to say that I had more.

I have since had a few showers and recuperated from the last trip as well as the few months of travel and logistics that led up to it.  I have had a friend’s company, a house to sleep in and a puppy to keep me entertained.  The weather even cleared enough one day to hop into a friend’s plane and go flying and shooting around Mt. McKinley / Denali National Park.  We had a bit of weather and turbulence to deal with which made shooting a real challenge (seriously, I felt like I was being shaken like dice in cupped hands while looking through the viewfinder) but it was well worth it.  I even had the opportunity to take the controls for a little while and learn a few things.  What I realized is that this won’t be the last time you hear me talk about flying.  I am hooked!

The last few days have been a bit less exciting, but definitely all part of it.  Resting, editing, planning and gearing up for the next leg has been crucial.  Now it’s time to get back out there!


(Yes, 50 square miles of sand dunes in the Arctic Circle.  I had no idea either.)

(Somewhere on the river.)

(My craft.  Solar panel charging in the stern, full coffee mug waiting for me in the bow.)

(Flying with friends Inger Hanson and John Dieffenderfer.)

(Paying homage to Bradford Washburn.  If you don't recognize the name look him up, he was The Man.)

(And again.)

(Flying really close to the Ruth Glacier.  Too much going on to fit in a photo but I still tried.)

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.

El Guapo (the van) and I have been on the road together for 733 days.

It all started with an epiphany explained a few posts down while I was splitting my time between South Lake Tahoe, California (SLT) and Reno, Nevada.  That epiphany snowballed into a master plan very quickly and here we are, back in the same area two years, 39,968 miles, hundreds of thousands of photos and countless experiences later.  Man it feels good to be back!

In no way is this a signing off post.  Guapo and I are still going strong with many plans for the future, but it really feels like we have arrived “home” after a long trip. This is something we can all relate to, but for a pair with no address, this “home” feeling does not come easily. 

There are a few other places I cherish the same, but professionally, it all started here.  This is the last place I lived, worked and shared a community of friends.  I love the people, the mountains, the rivers and lakes.  I am really happy that for the time being, the Reno / Tahoe area is “home”.

Last Saturday, April 17^th, 2010, was the official anniversary with Guapo.  It was on that day two years earlier that I flew from Reno to Santa Barbara to pick up the van and start a new life.  I have written at length in my posts about how that move and several others have added unforeseen value and experiences to my existence, so I won’t go into any more detail about the actual transition.  What I really want to commemorate is the fact that two years have passed and we are still rolling, still growing and still hungry for more.

So how did I spend the two-year anniversary?  I participated in a Boater-X event on Mt. Rose where about 20 of us geared up in a mix of skiing and kayaking equipment, sprayed Pam on the bottom of our kayaks and raced down a bobsled style course.  I definitely did not win, but it was fun to be around kayakers I have met, shot and traveled and paddled with along this two-year journey.


(Current World Champion Nick Troutman in first, Brian Tupper in second and me in third.  Many thanks to Reno local and photographer, kayaker and skier extraordinaire Scott Sady of TahoeLight.com for the image.)

Afterwards, I went straight to Downieville, one of my favorite towns in Northern California, to camp and kayak with some old friends.  I found them in a heap of wet gear on the side of Highway 49 after one long, failed attempt at hitchhiking the shuttle back to their car after paddling all afternoon.

I picked up the two stragglers and we caught up over a campfire by the river.  The sun was out the next morning, the coffee was strong and the water brisk.  We were all smiles as the day was spent dissecting rapids, taking in the scenery and talking and laughing about whatever we could think of.  It was the perfect transition into summer, and into being “home,” at least for a little while.

Here are a few photos of Guapo along the way these past two years.

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

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.

Ahhh Utah.  I have made it back to the West and more specifically, the snow!  I have been dreaming about powder days and backcountry trips for months now (even while hanging out in board shorts in Hawaii), so it is really exciting to finally be here.

Since leaving St. Louis soon after my last post, El Guapo (the van) and I have traveled roughly 1,500 miles, stopping in Denver, Boulder and Cheyenne to reconnect with old friends and to meet with new ones.  We were on a tight schedule and managed to make it to Salt Lake City just in time for a solid few days of Outdoor Retailer Show (OR) madness.  It was all a bit overwhelming at first, but in the end, I met some great people, learned a lot about the show and connected with some characters I had only previously known through social networking.  And if that wasn’t enough, I somehow managed to try on the new Champion SuperSuit while hearing stories of an expedition to Mount Pumori in the Himalaya.

These tales of experience were everywhere, from adventure racing in Tierra del Fuego to sledge hauling across Antarctica and expeditions on Everest.  It was all pretty impressive, but my favorite story was of a van dweller turned editor.  This was definitely my crowd, and definitely worth the long distance sprint.

I have since spent my time plowing through a few items I haven’t been able to handle in the previously mentioned craziness, but am looking forward to getting on a mountain this weekend and really diving into winter.  In the coming weeks I will be shooting something I have been planning for more than a year, and can’t wait to really have at it.

On a side note, my friend and fellow adventure photographer Michael Clark (no relation) has recently published his new book Digital Masters: Adventure Photography.  It is an all encompassing read on how to capture high-end adventure sports images, from equipment and techniques to the many approaches one can take in becoming a pro.

I learned about this book one morning last spring when I was surprised and honored to receive a call from Michael asking if I would be a resource for the whitewater section.  I of course said yes and am now very proud and excited to announce that it is on the shelves.  You can order one online at Amazon.com or Barnes & Noble, or just pick one up at your local bookstore.

Nice work Michael!