A Week in Bozeman – Autumn

Arrival I’m shivering in the airport. Two weeks of warm, humid Southeastern air has made my skin thin and my sweater not thick enough. C picks me up, wearing her down jacket. “Oh… Continue reading

Advice to a WRFI Student in their Last WRFI Days

Remember that you are in Montana, your toes are cold and you have lentil farts. Also known as, be present. Try not to move your mind to home just yet. Montana still has… Continue reading

The Art of Having a Terrible Time

When I was younger, my dad used to disappear on weekend-long adventures that my mom would lovingly refer to as “Donny Adventures”. Donny was a family friend who had a shiny bald head,… Continue reading

What Type of Post-Grad Outdoorsy Kid Are You?

So you graduated from college with an environmental studies, natural resource, biology, ethics or botany degree. Or maybe you graduated in engineering, but really spent most of college in the mountains or on… Continue reading

Someone Else’s Grand

I wake up to a ringĀ of what must’ve been the morning coffee call. The almost full moon (or was it already fading?) that rose last night between the canyon walls has disappeared into… Continue reading

Talents, Weaknesses and 1,000 Olive Polka Dots

If the color red had a scent, it would be one thousand apples growing older in a cold barn. We wake to this red smell as I reach out of my warm comforter… Continue reading


It’s been the type of day I came to Japan for. Early in the morning, a small white van slides into the driveway of the house in the small, snowy canyon. Skis in… Continue reading

On Tokyo

The man behind the counter glances at me through a haze of vapor rising off hot dishes. His gaze says, “well go ahead then” while his mouth remains motionless. I look down at… Continue reading

The Ten Steps to a Dirtbag Dinner Date

So that one girl finally asked you out. Don’t give me that look, you know who I’m talking about. She’s the one that cuts you in line at the surf wave, sends the… Continue reading


There’s a very serious nine year old boy perched on the front of my yellow boat. In one hand he grips a spinning rod, his other hand clenched onto a blue cam strap.… Continue reading