High noon on a hot summer afternoon in the Reno suburbs and I’m getting a lot of looks. It’s probably my odd appearance. Chaco sandals. Sunburned calves. Sky blue board shorts. Bright green paddling shirt with the hoodie pulled over a visor. When combined with a few days of boater stubble and reflective sunglasses, I’ve been told I resemble an aquatic version of the 1980s FBI Unabomber sketch… continue reading at Duct Tape Diaries blog!
I was 30-something miles into my day, pushing a loaded bike up a never-ending heap I’d nicknamed Powder Mountain, when I began talking to myself. Stuff like: Where did things go wrong? Why did you insist on this trail? And: How come hoodoos are SO stupid?… continue reading about exploring the Paunsaugunt Plateau at Adventure Cyclist Magazine!
The view was startling. By standing on an old stone wall, in a clearing just off the gravel shuttle road, Big Piney Creek was visible far below. It was making one of those photogenic meanders through the Ozarks, a nearly circular 180, like the famous Horseshoe Bend in Arizona… continue reading at Duct Tape Diaries!
“I’ll tell you where that treasure is,” declared a local fella at the bar. Me and my best buddies were in the mountains of Colorado. And our conversation about this hidden treasure had all the implications of a cowboy film… continue reading at Men’s Journal.
As I push off from Corn Creek into the clear blue waters of the Salmon River, I feel that rush of excitement that comes with paddling a new river. The canyon hillsides mix dark metamorphic outcrops with tall stands of pine and green grasses, making a mid-July fade into gold… continue reading at the Duct Tape Diaries blog!
I sort of knew what I was searching for and sort of didn’t. After rowing around a bend in the Green River, Rock House Canyon opened dramatically ahead. I tied my raft to shore and walked up a dry creek bed. Above rose buttes and fins of orange-brown rock, part of the Green River Formation… continue reading about Desolation Canyon on The Eddy blog.
VHWIRRRR, through dense fog, the sound of an approaching motorboat rises. I swivel my head left and right, listening closely to place the direction. There’s no way they’ll see me at speed, I realize, slightly panicked… continue reading about Bike-rafting to Cumberland Island at Men’s Journal!
Part I: Solo trip or death sentence? • an eclipse on the river • just some regular old symmetry-focused topographic detective work... continue reading about the search for Sumner’s Amphitheater at Men’s Journal!