Blog Posts

Things these days

Mack the dog, stoked

I don’t think I know anyone who isn’t see-sawing between despair, rage, frustration, and helplessness these days. On all things political, environmental, and social, it really is a heaping pile of bad news. How to manage heartache in crazy times? When even our carefully constructed social bubbles are collapsing in? When natural and political disasters compete for the headlines? I listen to music more than the news. I read headlines but only go deep on stories of unexpected awesomeness, such

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Opposite Thanksgiving

Ancient bristlecone pine

If you are looking for solitude during Thanksgiving, let me recommend Great Basin National Park. We used it as a halfway point on our drive from SLC to Bishop, CA. After a short-ish hike to a very cool arch tucked away in the bottom corner of the park, we found a sweet and compact camp site in a parallel canyon. It dead-ends at a trailhead a few miles up, and we verified that we were the only people in the canyon.

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My favorite gear for trail running (in the dark)

Mack on a trail run

I am a bit of a gear nerd, and a bit of a perfectionist, and it is hard for me to settle for gear that isn’t pretty close to doing its job really well. These days there are so many options! Surely, the perfect pair of running tights exists. And the perfect mountain biking pack! When I worked in the outdoor industry I was always trying to find a way to finagle pro-deals with smaller, perhaps European, somewhat obscure companies

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For the Birds

RK just told me that studies show that certain birds sounds (magpies, jays, crows) are not calming to humans. I wonder if that is that because we have pre-judged those sounds. I love the sound of jays — raspy, bossy, and confident. Often they are the only bird sounds that can amplify over the noise of the city. Jays can put a cat in its place. Birds are unfairly separated into good and bad. Why do some people call a

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Spooked

spooky trees

You can’t trust your senses in these dark autumn mornings. The wind blows naked trees branches together and they sing like ghosts or maybe a small child in a place where there is no trail and should be no children. Dry leaves chase me down the trail like the sound of quick footsteps, piles of branches look like suspicious structures in the woods. A post with a box on it looks like a person standing very, very still and the

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