Onwards Again: My Journey to the Atoll

Honolulu, HI
Elevation: 19ft. 

Likean old scratched up transparency the dark sky slidbeneath me endlessly reaching for the sunrise. Mount St. Helens rose out like a silent island. To me the clouds were nothing more than another ocean rocking my ship back and forth. I was on my way home.

Traveling through the sky I closed my eyes and let myself float away into the peaceful sway of my music. Anything to get my mind off of the violent throes of turbulence and the fear-laced, steel entrapment around me. Visiting home was going to be big for me, it was the last time I would see my friends and family before I left for the Kure Atoll. It had been 8 months since I first pulled out of my driveway and began my journey out west. It was a moment of fear, excitement and uncertainty but with each passing mile - courage. Blasting above the clouds I felt like I was unceremoniously backtracking my voyage and in many ways I began to feel my courage disappear. Since I had left Virginia there really hadn’t been a moment I wasn’t working, traveling or experiencing something new and different and as I got closer and closer to home I began to feel a surge of responsibility and reality settle back upon me. Though I have been exploring, growing and learning more each day my family has, at the same time, been carrying on working hard and missing me. My grandparents grow older everyday, my parents and aunts and uncles ever more weary and anxious for retirement and my dear brother and cousins growing up and preparing to begin their independent lives. To me, I was returning to a home that was quickly fading away.

To my brother: It has been my honor to cook hotdogs and pasta roni for us all these late nights. Through all the different years, girlfriends and versions of Halo I could always count on you being there for me. Here’s to many more years to come. 

For the next 7 months I would be living and working on the Kure Atoll as part of a team sent to eradicate an invasive weed displacing native plants and killing albatross chicks, golden crownbeard (Verbesina encelioides). With little more than a satellite phone for communication contact would be limited to occasional, text only emails. And because of the remote nature of the island there would be no leaving until our scheduled extraction in November.

To my beloved NoVa family: Elementary school, high school and college. We have grown up together and I cannot wait to grow old with you punkasses. 

With a strange sense of symmetry I carefully scheduled and planned who I would see on what days of the week. In very much the same way I planned my goodbyes 8 months ago, I had scheduled a different group of friends to hang out each day down to the hour. Each meeting was a roller coaster of emotions: catching up and filling each other in on almost a year apart, talking about how much had changed and how much I missed being there and then explaining my new job and saying goodbye again for the foreseeable future.

To my father: Ramen, sushi and life advice - it was at Blue Ocean that you taught Alex and I many unexpected lessons and was a tradition we enjoyed every time we were back home. Thank you for the years of full bellies and full minds. 

Though 7 months can hardly be called an eternity I knew it was enough time for things to change. Returning home I was surrounded by love and excitement. Endless questions about what my jobs this summer had been like (brutul)? How was it like living in Portland (cute hipsters, artisinally vague foods, amazing beer)? When was I going to cut my hair (never)? Am I dating again (no, I am going to die alone)? It was the crazy rush of story telling, pantomiming and unending laughter that reminded me I was home but it was the quiet moments in between that made me realize how much I wanted to stay. 

To Tim: During our last drink together you told me that you loved everything about the PNW, that it gave you a new sense of hope. I promised you I would find Base Camp Brewing Company and drink in your honor - it became my favorite Portland brewery and I couldn’t wait to get this growler to you - you deserve it brother. 

To my dear, sweet, darling Mason: Thank you for always being there to set me straight. Through elementary school and college you and I were always learning what it meant to be socially normal together. Thank you for sharing your Taiwanese-ass whiskey with me. I hope to see you escape out west soon!

The regulars. Of all the tables I’ve eaten at I’m going to miss this one the most.

Proper log-splitting technique. 

My mother saved my “Goodbye Week” schedule from April. It was surreal experiencing the same feeling again. 

To my little cousins: It has been my pleasure and honor watching you all grow up. I wish I could still be there as you all approach the trials of adolescence and adulthood. Just know that I will always be there for you all, no matter where I am. In the famous words of my generation, “text me, beep me, if you wanna reach me”.

To my grandma: I will never be able to cook as well as you do. Thank you so much for feeding our family for all these years. No one will ever put up with my pickiness as well as you have. Alex and I owe our height, strength and discerning palates to you.

To my grandpa: You always knew how to dress well. It was only the finest things on sale for you and Alex and I have benefited for years from your adventures to the mall. I will miss your laughter, your burps and your love of eating out. I know you want nothing more than for me to return to Virginia but I promise I will be back sooner than you think, home will always be with you and the family.

It was waking up in my empty room to the shuffling sounds of my grandfather’s footsteps downstairs. The distant rumbling of the washing machine, the echoing beep of a door opening. It was the sound of my mom calling out Levi’s name in the backyard and it was the gentle vibration of the garage door opening and closing beneath my room. It was these quiet, familiar moments that made me reflect on the people and moments I took for granted, these quiet sounds of my family and their existences that let me know that I would miss my home so much. It was seeing all of my dearest friends and holding them tight that made me realize how much love surrounded me, how rich a life I have been blessed with. 7 months isn’t forever, but it’s long enough for life to happen and each time I let go and said goodbye a part of me knew there was a possibility that it was for forever. 

To Erik and Lydia: You two are the hardest working people I know. Thank you for the countless words of kindness and wisdom. It was the compassion you showed me and the advice you gave me that helped me muster the courage for my road trip. Don’t stop chasing your goals! You guys will always be my Fairfax REI family!

To my Bestest Buddy: It’s hard to believe how far we have come since high school. A long far way from those late nights spent on AIM and xanga! I am so proud at how far you’ve come with your career. You were always an unstoppable force. When I come back I hope to see you running the neo natal ward!

To my dear, beautiful Jerry: Where have the years gone? We have seen each other at our worst and have pulled ourselves up by our bootstraps countless times. Life is a never ending battle but damn it you always manage to capture the sunsets like no one else. Best of luck with the Air Force brother, I can’t wait to hear your stories!

To my dear Kaitlin: What a wild ride it’s been huh? Life can be crazy and all over the place and I think we have both gotten extra heaping helpings of “all over the place”. It is a fateful dance that we are able to find each other when we do. I’m going to miss your kind words and your gentle spirit.

Something I realized as I saw friend after friend and had coffee after coffee, life had not stopped just because I had left. In my mind my family and friends had been frozen in place. Solid and static, preserved in a film of oozing sentimentality. But NO. The friends and family that I left behind were fiery beings just as aggressive and hungry for life as me. They were progressing in every way I could have hoped – time does not bow to sentiment.

To my SCBI family: No where in my travels has a place held so much for me. SCBI was my beginning, my first steps into the world of conservation. In it’s fields and forests I made some of the best friends I will have in this life and it is in it’s dark streets and green hills that I have left a lot of my heart. You all have done so well and I can’t wait to see where this year will take you all. I’m honored to be fighting the good fight by your sides.

I didn’t realize how precious a few fleeting hours in an old house could be to me until I sat down with you guys. It was as if I could feel the moment slipping out of my hands and into the darkness of the room. I felt like I could have gotten lost in the blurry familiar sound of our laughter. More than any other moment that week, it was sitting there that I realized how unfair goodbyes can be. It was hardest saying goodbye to you four – you are my family.

To my beautiful, ageless, benevolent dragon-tiger mom: You have been the ground beneath my feet for my entire life. Selflessly you have provided for Alex and I pushing us to be the best we can be and in return you only ask for our love and our virtue. A large chocolate Costco cake will occasionally do it too. Since leaving the path to Pharmacy I have often struggled to find a way to make you proud of me, though perhaps it was only in my own eyes that I fell short. Standing in our store surrounded by the rings and bracelets and watches you and Dad have so tirelessly worked to sell I gave you my best photograph and it still didn’t feel like enough to me. To me it was a physical culmination of all of the years I have grown and learned and explored because of you both – a product of the man that I have striven so hard to become. To you and Dad I owe my life.

To Rirrian and Afrodesiac: You two were always ones to go against the grain. Whether it was striving to create your own business, constantly pushing yourself to surpass your creative limits or just being the brashest, baddest, ex-slapping best friend a guy could have – you two have always been the wild ones. I owe breaking out of my shell to you both and am grateful to have you as my family.

It still surprises me how much an aggressive barbarian like Rirrian can like art so much.

I’m going to miss having you by my side through natural disasters, awkward social situations, parties, restaurants and naps. When I come back we are going to have to get you suited up for the backpacking trip of a lifetime – then you can finally really get me killed.

To my FCA family: Oh the countless memories we have had. And by that I mean how many embarrassing versions of Chris you all have had to bare witness through the years! You are my FCA family and I owe so much of my confidence and, honestly, social skills to you. It was those ragtag college years where I grew into my own skin and found the real Chris that I could be happy with. Thanks to you guys I reached my final form (and you know it’s over 9,000!!!!!!).

To my beautiful sisters: After all these years we are still forever the triangle. Thank you for dealing with me through all of my strange phases, exes and for putting up with me never returning phone calls. But above all thank you for always making me look good in public – trust me when I finally do find that right lady you both will make amazing groomsmen.

To my brother: It has been a pleasure and an honor. My only regret is that we never hung out sooner – oh the adventures Rhyhorn and Yoda could have had! I don’t know where life is going to take us but I do know it’s going to be in 4 and it’s going to be covered in mud. Here’s to us one day finally adventuring together!

To my beloved uncle: I regret not spending more time with you and the kids all these past years. Saying goodbye to you when I first left for Oregon was one of the hardest goodbyes for me. You have always looked out for me growing up and I hope that I can return the favor one day with Grace and Mason. Family is first and it’s the most precious thing we have. I’m gonna miss your humor Koo. Here’s to planning an awesome vacation together soon!

To my Fairfax REI family: Nevermore was the passage of time more obvious than when I returned to where it all began. People come and go, such is the passage of life, and it was good to just see a few old faces. It was 2012 when I approached its doors as a desperate college graduate with nothing more to his name than a dream to work outdoors and 4 years of irrelevant pre-pharmacy courses. It was in this REI that a manager took a chance on me and it was here that I first entered the world of outdoor recreation. I owe so much to this humble little store – here’s to making the co-op proud wherever life takes me!

To B-randon: You god damn Brit. I can’t believe how long it’s been since I first picked you up at IAD airport. It all started with an internship and look at you now! A jeep, a pup and fiancé!? B-randon you are doing it more ‘merican than you could have ever have hoped! I’m going to miss our belligerent conversations, our whiskey tastings and our hilarious parties at Leach House. Best of luck with what lies ahead of you dear friend!

To the wonderful, loving, unbelievably kind-hearted Mandolia family: I can’t believe how much warmth and love pours out of your home. From the first time we met you all took an interest in me and my hopes and dreams. Though our time together has been brief returning to your home on the last night of my visit home was the perfect ending to a week of overwhelming emotion. No where else do I feel so welcome, so unabashedly comfortable. I will miss your open hearts and will take the lessons of kindness and adventures you have taught me everywhere I go. Above all else, I will miss your heated bathroom floor – simply genius.

To my beautiful boy: It feels like yesterday that I held you for the first time. Raising you was a trial but one filled with joy. Long gone are the days where you would follow close behind me, beg to be held and ate regular dog food. You are grandma’s big boy and the protector of the house. Daddy will miss you but he will be back sooner than you think. Keep the family safe and stop letting grandma dress you up in silly outfits, have some damn pride, son.

Iremember hugging my mother for the last time at IAD. It was a draining week to say the least and after all was said and done I spent less than 10 hours with my own family. The familiar feeling of her arms and the smell of her hair was almost too much. As I walked deeper into the airport I waved goodbye to my father illegally parked in front of the departures and held back a floodgate of tears. What was a trip initially filled with sadness, longing, fear and homesickness ended in the resetting of my soul. Hearing how many of my friends were inspired by me and my journey was surprising and humbling. Hearing how many of them were proud of me for facing my fears was heart breaking. For so long now I have been battling my fears of being alone and pushing myself to be able to stand strong on my own in the face of the wildest unknown. I have become stronger and hearing my friends recognize that inspired me, broke me and rekindled a fire in me. As I tore through the sky towards Oregon I knew that I was ready for the next step.

Breaking the news about Kure to my Oregon friends and family proved no easier. In the time I’ve been out here I have created a home. Familiar roads and places fill the spaces where I would drive lost for hours panic-stricken by the pace of the city. I have a regular commute, I have a regular job, I have a regular doughnut shop. And what’s extraordinary is that, in the three months working at Hillsboro REI, I have made close friends. I wasn’t able to reconnect with many of my Klamath crew after breaking the news but in a similar fashion they were already all over the world. With the exception of Charles who I was finally able to get that climbing trip in that we had talked so much about over the summer: best of luck with your upcoming projects and pass on my love to your family! With my departure fast approaching I made sure to act on the lessons learned in Virginia and put time with friends and family to the forefront. For the last month there hasn’t been a moment not spent living.

To Chris: It was good meeting you man. You’re young, driven and wise beyond your years. Whether it’s the Marine Corps, Firefighting or getting sponsored by GoPro I believe in you. Just don’t die!

To Easewryder: It’s funny how much we have in common and how cool we became after just a few short days. It was unlucky that we met so late but it was good fortune that we met at all. Best of luck with your passions and send Mistor Falcor and the lady my love!

After my string of field jobs ended in October, I entered a spiraling descent into a dustbowl of unemployment. No longer was my life filled with sunkissed days and star-filled nights. No more was that constant feeling of purposeful adventure. It was after a solid month of trawling USAJOBS and Texas A&M to no avail that I decided it was time to reapply to REI. Within days Hillsboro REI responded and within a few weeks I was standing in a green vest again. With the crazy unstructured chaos of being unemployed, having to reacclimate to city life and the ever-growing pressure of finding that stable permanent job bearing down on me, REI was a safe haven. A familiar home where I knew the rules and I knew the people but above all where I knew I had purpose. Within weeks I was exploring the Portland area and getting into the groove of a schedule again. Despite being surrounded by people everyday I kept to myself and maintained my solitary style of adventuring. It was a surprise to me when I began to descend into loneliness. Without a physical job or a family of field techs to distract me I began to succumb to a concrete, urban depression. That’s when I began to find my new REI family.

To Mike: It was a blessing to meet you my dear friend. I’ve never met someone so full of knowledge and good intention. You were born a natural teacher and are destined for great things. I wish you the best of luck with everything you pursue – the next time we meet let’s make it the summit of South Sister!

To KATIE JEAN!: Hands down you get the award for planning the most adventures packed into a single day! My only regret is that we didn’t start earlier! You have a good heart and are beyond fun to hang out with. I know you will bring honor to our hiring generation. Next time we see each other again let’s do it all again dear friend.

To my darling Tummybummers: What will I do without your forlorn glare from frontline? Or the way you would snipe me with your light-footed fairy dance. I will never look at coffee or Mt. Hood the same thanks to you and I wish we had more time to adventure together. Thanks for showing me that great strength can come in the form of great patience.

To A-aron, erbear11 and Overlord: Easily the three easiest people to hang out with I have had to fortune to meet. Thank you for welcoming me into your lives and showing me how Oregon transplants throw down! You all have had such diverse lives filled with such great stories and experiences. I will take your humors and your wisdoms (and your love for the Kendama) to the island and I will return to Oregon and we will party into the sunset.

To my dear dear dear beccaklassy: Where do I even start? In the few short months I worked at REI, and lived in Portland for that matter, you have become my best good friend. You showed me how to climb, you showed me how to be spontaneous and you showed me how to be a good friend. Thank you for making me open up despite how stubborn I was. Our adventures hold a special place in my memory and I can’t wait to come back. I wish you the best of luck with everything you aspire to do. You. Are. Unstoppable.

To Hosh William Swanson: It’s been an adventure getting to know you my friend. I wish we had the chance to hang out more. I loved our conversations about the island; your curiosity and fun-loving attitude has rubbed off on me in a good way. I wish you only the best with whatever comes your way. Always remember, the fannypack of fun. (Photo Credit: Becca Klassy)

I am honored to call Hillsboro REI my home away from home and have been so fortunate to meet so many amazing people. You all welcomed me in with kindness and were always down to adventure. It showed me that there is a value in enjoying solitude but that there is also value in opening up and letting people in. Thank you all for giving me a new place to call home and a bunch of amazing people to call family.

I remember it vividly. Driving out of Yellowstone National Park I turned my wheels westward and began the last leg of my solo road trip. The mission was Boise, ID and it was going to be the first time since Indiana that I would see family. Two weeks of being on the road and I wanted nothing more than to see a familiar face, to hear a familiar voice and to feel at home again. To my cousins I owe the most. Without them I wouldn’t have been able to actualize my dream of moving out west and pursuing a life out here. It was because of their generosity and support that I was able to create a new home base and slowly begin to work, live and build. To them I owe my PNW experiences.

To Khem and Amanda: Thank you for all of the wonderful experiences. From my first view of the Gorge to my first Tonalli’s doughnut you both have always been there to hit the town with me. Our progressives will always be a thing of legend and I will continue to honor your names with mountains of tots, craft beers and artisanal obscure ice cream flavors! It didn’t take long for us to fall into a comfortable groove. I will miss waking up to the sounds of our creaky floors and the smell of fresh coffee. Our living room conversations and musubi nights will also be missed. I hope you all the best this year and I can’t wait to see you both again! Whatever changes may come they will be good and we will tackle them as a team. You can trust that I will bring honor to our remote seabird field work family! #wowfreshfamilyforever

To Judy: Thank you for always making time to see me all these years. You are a wise and caring person and I am grateful for our talks on life, love and family. I hope you find everything that you are looking for in Oregon and I can’t wait for our next brunch! Keep true to your heart and I know you are going to kill it this year!

To my dear Lombard St.: I will miss the sounds of your train tracks, your forlorn horns echoing through the night lulling me to sleep. Many a late night you have led me safely home and many a busy day you have shown me the way to Fred Meyer and Costco. Perhaps most of all I will miss they way you lit up on bright, clear days your colors bursting, Mt. Hood looming ever regal in the distance. Alas. You, Rhyhorn and I will reunite again one day.

:DEEP EXHAUSTED EXHALE:

Thank you for putting up with me. Without a doubt this has been my longest, most prolonged blog entry. It has been a wild ride these past few months and I have lost a handle on a lot of different aspects of my life. But if there is anything to take away from this crazy explosion of emotions and words and photographs it is this: There are things in this life far greater than ourselves. We all have different things to fill in the blank but it’s as simple as that. 4 years ago I was sitting in a massive lecture hall surrounded by bleary-eyed, exhausted pre-med students. Like a room full of zombies we stared blankly at a faded screen of endless powerpoint slides awaiting any sort of stimulus, hungry for any sort of change. It was at that moment that I realized that there was too much to this life to not chase my dreams. I realized that my path was going to be one spent making as much of a difference in this world as I could. Clichés aside, I will finally put this post to rest. It has been a wild ride this year and I couldn’t have spent it with better people or in better places. My next steps will be into the Northwest Hawaiian Islands and I will carry the weight of everyone’s love with me into the unknown. Here’s to next steps and never slowing down. See you all in the Fall.

With all my love,

Chris So Grateful

Yosemite National Park: Mist, Smoke and Granite.

Portland, OR
Elevation: 50ft. 

Running back and forth between Rhyhorn and the house I could already feel the excitement growing in my chest. Sleeping bag, tent, camera - check. I could already see the open road, the mountains, the never-ending sky. Dried food, jackets, boots - check. I could feel the hum of the road beneath me, the warmth of the dusty sunlight. Shit, the yeti. With a satisfying slam of my trunk I walked over to the driver’s seat, organized my maps, music and GPS and started out of the quiet, Portland neighborhood. It was 0730, I was going to Yosemite. 

The cool morning air whistled through the cracked windows as I merged onto I-5 S. To get there I would have to drive across Oregon and nearly half of California. California is fucking huge. I would be passing through many of my old stomping grounds. Eugentron, Corvallitron, Grants Passtron, Medfordtron, Ashlandtron and Reddingtron. South of that I had never really travelled this far inland. Traffic wasn’t as much of a bitch as I thought it was going to be. Shoulder to shoulder with tired morning commuters I broke away from the rat race once I cleared Tigardtron and gunned it south. 

The old anal Airstream parked at the intersection of hwy 96 and I-5 - an old landmark to my Klamath Crew that meant we were almost home. 

Driving south out of Portland has some of the most dramatic landscape changes along a highway I’ve ever seen. Oregon is a patchwork of agricultural land, public/private wilderness and towns with large cities like Portland, Eugene and Bend interspersed within it. At one moment you are driving through the congested web of Portland’s bridges and the next you are hurtling towards Mt. Shasta in all of her misty beauty.

Mt. Shasta elev. 14,180ft.

Mom vans, trucks and weathered campers blend together on I-5.

My first mission was to meet up with none other than Kevin Tenorio in Rocklin, CA. Our friendship goes back to middle school days when our everythings consisted of Yu-Gi-Oh!, self-taught martial arts, Rurouni Kenshin and social anxiety. Bitten by the hip-hop choreography bug in late high school we both dedicated a lot of time perfecting our separate dance styles and blended it with martial arts to form the Take-Out Boys. Add on Johnny Chen and you had the triumvirate. After college Kevin took his passion for dance to the next level and moved out to Denver, CO with the hopes of teaching choreography. Hands down he was the most courageous person in our close-knit friend group and had held onto the passion for dance firmer than any of us. His bold move to pack up his life and drive across country was secured by nothing more than the prospect of a few job interviews. Fast forward to 2015 and he hasn’t just started teaching choreography - he has taught at 3 schools, created countless choreographies for the massive Denver PrideFest and has done commissioned work for MapQuest. But things change and life keeps moving. As of this month Kevin packed his life up again and made the move to northern California to pursue a more stable job as a branch manager for an up and coming energy company. It doesn’t seem glamorous but it’s part of the path that myself and all of my friends are traveling - growing up. Check out his work at his YouTube Channel.

New to the area and within driving distance to me I figured I would spend my last unemployed weekend with him (I got a job at the Hillsboro REI!). Looking through my maps and looking at how many days we both had off I told him he was in for a treat, we were going to Yosemite. As I continued south through California the sun began to set. I wasn’t going to make to Rocklin before dark and was starting to wonder where we would camp for the night. 

Endless agricultural fields almost looked like savannas in the orange sunset. 

It wasn’t until 2000 hours when I pulled into the parking lot of the gym Kevin was currently using as his showers. He had a house lined up and had already accepted the job but for now he had to tough it out of his car while things fell into place. Like I said, courageous. We ate at a local burger place and caught up while I poured over my road map. I didn’t like how dark it already was and hadn’t quite planned this far ahead - unlike me, I know. I debated on just gunning it for Yosemite tonight and gambling on the off chance that the less popular campgrounds had space. Hearing me think out loud he helped me make the decision by simply saying, “Let’s just fucking go tonight”. Moving his things to Rhyhorn and parking his car in a sketchy motel parking lot we gunned down the dark highway. We had 4 hours ahead of us and with luck would be pulling into the western entrance by 0100 hours - it was going to be clutch. As time ticked on we caught up more and more. It was wild to think that we were sitting here in the same car. You could just feel how much we had changed since high school and how much we had changed from each other. We were always quite similar growing up but the difference now was as plain as black and white. He was clean-cut, dressed in all black dance-specific clothes, tatted and pierced and as city mouse as you could get. And I, well, I was me. Dreadlocked, dirty feet, dirty shorts and blasting country. It was wild and epic and all to unreal how we had managed to reconnect all the way out here.

It started to get near the arrival time and we were suspiciously still on the major highway. From looking at the map earlier we should have already started heading east towards the National Forest land but we weren’t. What had happened would be the first of many silly logistical mistakes I would make. Instead of verifying that we were heading towards the western entrance I had just plugged in “Yosemite” to my GPS and accepted what it told me. Yosemite National Park can be simplified down to a large circle with two major roads crossing it horizontally splitting it into thirds. The top one was an alpine road that separated the northern wilderness from the more car-friendly lower parts of the park. The bottom road was Yosemite Valley itself, the heavily developed area surrounding the Merced River where the famous peaks like Half Dome and El Capitan resided. We were unintentionally heading towards the valley. This wouldn’t have been a big deal under any other circumstances but it was already late, we didn’t have a lot of gas and there were no open campsites there. To put it into perspective, Yosemite is a national park the size of Rhode Island and instead of cutting west towards a campsite at the outer edge of that top road we were entering the park from the SE towards a ghost town of empty visitor centers and full campgrounds. Breaking my navigational error to city mouse he was undaunted. We were explorers and we were gonna do it - simple as that.

 Nothing could have prepared me for what would eventually become an epic 3 hour journey through the winding roads of the pitch black mountains of this park. Driving slowly though the eerie night we found ourselves in the valley. Thick fog filled the cold air and not a soul stirred. It was ghostly. Continuing along the main southern road of the valley loop I was jolted awake by the unmistakeable orange of fire. 

“Holy shit Kevin the forest is on fire!”

Getting out of Rhyhorn I stood before the darkness and let in the unmistakeable crackling of a thousand little fires. Like spirits dancing between the shadows of the trees the fire licked and cracked through the night and I breathed in the warm air with relish. I was 100% sure this was a prescribed burn and was at a loss of words. It was simply amazing to be there. 

The mission was to continue around the loop and to check the campgrounds dotting the valley. These were the most popular campgrounds since they were close to the Valley Store, Visitor’s Center and, of course, El Cap and Half Dome. We ran into a park ranger and asked him what camp sites were opened and learned that they were all full. Discouraged I asked him about Wawona campground near the south entrance.

“Wawona?…Maybe. Good luck, get some rest”. 

Pulling into Wawona all I could think about was how loud and bright Rhyhorn was. Desperately looking left and right all I could see were taken campsites. City mouse was falling asleep and would have been little help anyways as he wouldn’t have known what to look for - this would be his first time camping ever. With a heavy heart I made the call to drive south some more in hopes that an unnamed campground just out of the south entrance was open. Closed. It wasn’t until we had driven through Fish Camp and further south that I realized that we were out of luck - there was simply not going to be anything out here. Turning around I made for a turn off I had seen earlier near the closed campground. Pulling in at an angle I made a triangle with Rhyhorn and the ridge protecting us from the road. Grabbing my headlamp I quickly set up our two tents (REI skills to the rescue) and broke down the basics of tent camping to the sleepy city mouse. We climbed into our tents and passed out - it was 0400 hours.

The next morning rumbled me awake into a hellish blaze of yellow light as 18 wheeler ripped passed us. The tent shook violently and I sat up heart racing. This was exactly what my team spent the whole summer trying to avoid - dispersal camping along a major road. Waking city mouse up we emerged from our tents and began to load up Rhyhorn. Our mission was to get back to off the road before any Park Rangers found us and to get to Wawona. There we would wait for a campsite I had seen the night before that was only reserved for one day. Piling into Rhyhorn we started off for the camp, it was 0600. As we drove I realized that in an hour and a half I would have been driving on and off for nearly 24 hours, Rhyhorn’s engine hadn’t even cooled down since we had fallen asleep. Fast forward a few hours and we had a campsite, breakfast in our bellies and a gameplan for our first day. Since we had 2-3 days allotted for the park I decided to focus on one major area each day. Today we would work our way northward and explore the valley. It was a perfect morning.

Massive granite mountains so characteristic of the park.

Our first stop was a quick hike to the top of Sentinel Dome. Walking through the granite meadows I was overcome with the scent of the pines.

Smooth granite took the place of soil.

Sentinel Dome elev. 8,122ft.

An adorable pinecone family.

Yosemite NP was, like much of Oregon’s defining mountains, born from volcanos. Formed underground from massive magma flows, the granite bedrock eventually rose to the surface thanks to a tag-team effort of surface erosion and tectonic plate shifts. Once these bad boys rose to the surface water and ice sculpted them to the shapes they are now. The Merced River carved out the Yosemite Valley and ice age glaciers polished and cracked the ridges into the iconic shapes we see today. 

A view of the other side of the valley from atop Sentinel Dome. 

On top of the world. Kevin and El Capitan in the distance. 

Ansel Adams’ Jeffrey Pine and yours truly. 

Back at Rhyhorn we continued up Glacier Point Road to Glacier point where we came face to face with Half Dome and all of it’s glory. It was the best lunch spot to date. 

Half Dome elev. 8,842ft. | Shot with Canon 5D Mark II.

After walking off my geomorphological full-chub we got back into Rhyhorn and headed north for the valley. Along the way we went through the tunnel and exited out into what has been described as “the most photographed vista on earth”. 

From left to right: El Capitan, Half Dome, Sentinel Rock, Cathedral Rocks and Bridalveil Fall | Shot with Canon 5d Mark II.

The valley itself is made up of a one-way loop that runs west to east. On the northern loop is Yosemite Village which is a town made up of the visitor center, valley store, forest service dispatch, valley garage and a bunch of restaurants and parking. We treated ourselves to a hot dinner (1 orders of fries cause shit was hella expensive) and made our way back to camp as it started to rain. 

Swinging Bridge Picnic Area - a spot Kevin was considering for a choreography.

Wawona was spared from the heavy rains that flooded the higher elevations of the park the night before and we awoke to a morning shrouded in fog and smoke. I knew that there was more to see in the valley but was also debating on going further north. Realistically, weather consistent, we might pack up and head out the next day so for all-intensive-purposes this was our last day. Driving into the valley we parked and walked over to the visitors center for city mouse to collect himself (the dirt and general exposed nature of the outdoors was getting to him) and for me to look up some day hikes. What I realized was that there was an incredible amount of day-hikes that we hadn’t done at all. Instead of moving onto the northern part of the park I realized we couldn’t even finish the hikes here in the valley. It was good news. As the rain began to worsen I picked out a short, popular hike that would round out the day as well as give us a good workout to an amazing view. The mission was Vernal Falls. 

Misty mountains. 

Merced River. 

The sheer size of the mountains was hard to grasp. Photos seemed powerless. 

The mossy side of the ridge. The trees were growing at 45º angles. 

Tree up close for scale. Tree on slope for scale. 

The hike towards the falls was luxurious. If there is one thing to know about Yosemite it would be that it has an incredible amount of infrastructure. Most national parks will be rather built up and accessible but one as charismatic and large and iconic as Yosemite is a totally different story. The path was a 1.5 mile switchback up a wide paved path. Rain vacillated between drizzling and torrentially down pouring making the hike difficult on the rockier portions. I discarded my jacket and ended up hiking in a t-shirt. I still haven’t mastered the art of hiking in the rain. As we approached the last stretch of switch backs the path turned into steep, narrow staircases carved out of granite. City mouse was a champ as he carried his water bottle, soaked sweatshirt and camera bag up the stairs. Even as experiences as I was I was having difficulty with the slippery stairs and almost would have rather just had a gravel path or dirt - but this was a mountainside we were talking about. 

Another view of the Merced River. 

A view downriver towards the valley. People for scale. 

Rounding the last corner the rain started to pour hard.  Like ouch-this-is-hard-rain pouring.

There she falls!

By this point I was scared for my phone. Hurry up Lifeproof.

At the top we took a wet breather. Gazing down into the valley my breath was taken away. The steep cliffs, the curving river disappearing into the foggy green of the forest. It was an awe-inspiring picture of force and it was just one hike of the park. It was then and there that I realized that I needed to come back, come back soon. 

From the narrower part of the river, the large snag in the middle and the size of the people you can backtrack where I took the previous photos. 

A few miles further up the path and we would have reached Nevada Fall.

Granite. Deep and dark. People for mind-blowing scale. 

Started from the bottom. 

Wet and tired we changed our clothes and made our way back into the valley for a nice dinner. Walking around the village store I searched for stickers (of course). It wasn’t until we were checking out that I realized that I didn’t have my car keys. Quickly going through the past hour I realized I had dropped them in the cup holder as I was changing my pants - they were locked inside of Rhyhorn. With daylight to spare we made our way to the visitors center where I asked the shop clerk if they could recommend a course of action. They passed me to the park rangers who then passed me to the village garage. They told me to call AAA (thanks for advising me to get it dad!) and then, once they got the call from AAA they would drive over and help us out - simple enough. AAA had me on hold for almost an hour. It was unbelievable. The situation quickly dissolved from me pacing back and forth saying grateful things to city mouse like, “Man I am so glad I have AAA, this was easier than I thought!” to “How? How is this even possible? How can this be the situation that is happening right now? They still have me on hold! I know they can hear me I know it’s recording! BALLS BALLS BALLS BALLS WHAT THE FUUUUUUCKKKKKKK!”. Eventually one of the guys came out and asked for my card and made the call themselves and within 15 minutes were were driving back to camp. Driving back along the windy road that had become our familiar commute I couldn’t help but feel like I didn’t explore enough. There was so much more to do and so much more to see. I knew that there would be another chance and that this was just a taste of a whole world of exploration. Rounding one of the last corners we were struck with a sunset so orange it looked like wildfire. 

That night it stormed. It may have been the hardest storm I had ever camped in. Starting around 0300 the rain had become so loud that it had woken up most of the campsite. It was lightening and thunder crazier than I had ever felt. Being me I set up my phone to voice record the storm and sat back for nearly an hour listening and counting lighting strikes - it was surreal. Within 30 seconds I counted nearly 49 strikes - somewhere was getting its shit fucked to put it scientifically. The next morning we found our tents owned. City mouse was basically sleeping in a small pond and my tent had mud and sand kicked up the sides underneath the rain fly from how hard the rain was landing. But instead of a flaming deathscape we found the morning greeting us cool and misty. Packing up our wet gear we hit the road for home. Bidding farewell to my new campground friends I set my sights for Rocklin. We took an alternative path that traded I-5 for forest roads. It was a flashback to the Klamaths. Winding mountain roads took us through a landscape dominated by shrubs and rolling hills. At this point city mouse was pretty done with nature and responded to my stopping with, “What are you doing. What the hell are you doing.”. 

Oh, hi Shenandoah. 

He jumped head first out of his comfort zone to join me on this adventure and I have a lot of respect and gratitude for him. 

That part of California no one thinks about. 

On the road back home thoughts of my realities started filtering back in. It was like the sudden onset of cell signal and text messages was a calling for me to come back to real life. To responsibilities. It’s strange. What I experienced and witnessed and felt in my bones this weekend was everything I consider to be real life. The realest it can ever be what can be truer than the earth, the water the mountains that have been there so long before us and will be there so for longer? I settled into a peaceful storm of thoughts on that endless road. 

This is why I do what I do. 

We picked up Thai food and Kevin’s car. Shouting for joy we were both relieved to see that it didn’t have any tickets or wheel clamps. Saying goodbye to Kevin was a mix of feelings. Here we had spent such an amazing weekend far from our problems and here we were back in Rocklin. I watched as he organized his car and couldn’t believe he had been living in it for as long as he has. I was happy that he had gotten his managerial job and that things were starting to pick up for him again. I’ve never met a person so dedicated to his passion - never. Hugging it out we said goodbye and good luck. Good things will come soon yet my dear friend. 

Country Mouse | City Mouse

The next 10 hours would be a painful test of man and machine fueled by gas station bathrooms, trail mix bars, oreo shakes and me ultimately caving in and buying the new Mumford & Sons CD. But God. Damn. It. Rhyhorn and I were made for the road. 

Give me golden fields and blue skies over concrete any day. 

By this point my mind was starting to melt - like the sunset. 

At this point I was shouting Mumford & Sons and crying in joy to see Portland.

All in all the trip was an amazing one. It felt forever since I had been on such a journey. Covering 1,763 miles in two days I was just 1,044 short of returning home to Virginia - 2/3 of the way across the U.S. But more than just the distance I hadn’t had a journey that affected my heart and mind like this in a long time. I suppose it was a mix of seeing Kevin in his current situation, my encroaching responsibilities, how much I missed being with someone and how much I missed my family. Whenever I see places as beautiful and breathtaking as Yosemite I am always pulled from deep within by a sad feeling that my parents and my grandparents aren’t with me. These are places that my brother and I can spend our whole lives exploring but my grandparents and parents have spent most of their lives working to survive and to provide for us. Making sure they retire soon and can start enjoying their lives is going to be a big part of my 5 year plan. I want to show them things they’ve never seen before…Here’s to making that happen. 

As always, love and miss you all,

Chris

Jackson Hole to Portland: Closing Words.

Portland, OR
Elevation: 1,073 ft.

Driving slowly through Jackson Hole I felt a weight begin to pull at my chest. I didn’t know if it was the bad Thai food I had the night before or if it was the weight of the realization that my trip was almost over. Climbing higher and higher into the Teton range I began to feel the effects of the sudden spike in elevation. My head began to hurt, my breath became shallow and my hearing began to dull. The music and the passing trees seem to cross senses and blended into my emotions like a slow-churned, low-fat gas station custard - I was starting to become extremely sad. For nearly two weeks my only responsibilities were to keep my eyes on the road, to keep my belly reasonably full and to make sure I had somewhere to sleep at night. In every sense I was living the road tripping life of a modern day nomad. It was a lifestyle I had first found stressful and anxious but soon became a carefree, life loving feeling I couldn’t possibly let go of. Knowing that I still had a long way to Yellowstone, as well as the time there, I put the feelings away and pulled over to an overlook.

“Gotta’ learn to roll with the punches, Chris. Gotta’ learn.”

Because the Yellowstone’s south entrance was closed for the season I needed to enter from the west which required me to drive northeast into Idaho and then west through Montana and then back into Wyoming. The whole drive only took 3 hours but I couldn’t help but feel like it wasn’t worth it knowing that I needed to be in southeast Idaho that night. I popped another piece of Kroger jerky into my dry mouth, wiped at my eyes and refocused on the bug guts. Here I was nearly a continent away from my problems and I was overthinking the logistics of enjoying one of America’s most spectacular national parks. 

Pulling into Yellowstone I really wasn’t sure what to expect. I had long done away with my typical preparations, i.e. trolling wikipedia and Google Maps the night before, and had embraced a much more free-spirited approach. Just drive, experience and live. The first thing to greet me was the beautiful Madison River.

Driving towards the middle of the park I knew that I needed to make some decisions. Yellowstone’s roads are shaped like the outlines of a vertical rectangle with a line drawn through the middle. Knowing that a number of roads in the eastern half of the park were still closed I ambitiously decided to cover the entire western half, the middle road and the northern border. Hanging right I drove as fast as I could south towards none other than Old Faithful. Passing overlooks, hikes and bison I bit my lip telling myself that I was already running out of the day and needed to make some hard decisions. I couldn’t afford to really be out on the road much longer. Pulling into the Old Faithful parking lot I was surprised. It had a parking lot. I didn’t know what to expect honestly, I had forgotten just how built up these popular parks could me. Grabbing my camera I crossed the parking lot and into the mall of gift shops and information centers. Crowded around a smoking mound in the ground where easily a hundred people sitting on the longest, widest benches I had ever seen. I found a spot in the center on the ground and waited for what seemed like forever, surrounded by shouting kids complaining about the wait, parents promising it was only 4 more minutes and teenagers shouting “3, 2, 1!” and then giggling. Just as my eyes started to glaze over the elbow of the little boy next to me dug into my arm waking me up enough to fully hear him shouting, “It’s starting! It’s starting!”

Gunning it back to Rhyhorn I started the engine and pulled out my map. It was already 1600 hours. Cruising northwards I decided to hit as much as I could. Worse case scenario I would camp out that night and rendezvous in Boise the next day. Yellowstone is a massive national park (as well as the FIRST national park!) and, appropriately, the terrain is incredibly different depending on where you are in the park. The eastern side is predominantly hot springs and geysers. On the southern end is Old Faithful and on the northern end are the Mammoth Hot Springs. My first stop northward would be the Midway Geyser Basin. The landscape reflected prehistoric elements and made me feel like I was in the middle of Jurassic Park. Stepping out of Rhyhorn at one of the pull-offs I held my breath and took a wide shot of the geyser basin. I paused an extra second legitimately expecting an adult T-Rex to come tearing down the corner. 

The Midway Geyser Basin was my first encounter with natural hot springs, geysers and fumaroles. It was truly unlike anything I had ever seen. Water collected in deep, porous rock heated by magma even deeper down was being forced to the surface of the earth just to explode out and into the cold Firehole River. It was an unreal scene that evoked the primeval forces of a time long ago and it took my breath away.

Once I reached the Madison Junction I had to decide whether or not to continue north to Mammoth Hot Springs or to head east towards Canyon Village and potential campsites. Weighing my options and remaining daylight I decided that capturing some images of the famous Lower and Upper Falls would be a perfect end to the first day. It was 26 miles of driving and it was nearly 1700 hours and the sun was starting to wane behind the ridge line, I was getting worried about what I would do if there weren’t any campsites. Like clockwork, mother nature intervened and snapped me back to a more pertinent reality, a constant theme for my two days in the park - Bison.

Pulling over to a bridge crossing I grabbed my camera and climbed down the bank towards a resting herd. People where cautiously hovering around the road, rightfully unsure of how close they should approach the huge animals. A young lady, an older man and myself ventured the closest. 

Continuing eastward I began to get worried as more and more people were passing me fast in the opposite direction. I didn’t have any signal so I couldn’t call ahead to ask if the campsites were open. Chasing the potential of an amazing shot and an equally amazing campsite I pressed on. When I reached Canyon Land I was greeted by an empty parking lot, empty buildings with “closed for the season” signs and an hour of lost time. Frustrated I took a piss, looked at my map and started on the road back west. I would check the Norris campgrounds and if they were closed would head north for Mammoth Hot Springs. 

Norris was closed too. Heading up towards Mammoth Hot Springs I began kicking myself for being so damn free-spirited. Why didn’t I think to ask the Park Rangers which sites were open? This early in the season I was running into seasonal problems. It made sense. The road quickly turned into a dirt road - there was a lot of construction happening. I started seeing more and more people turn around joining an ever increasing stream of people driving back southward with disappointed, worried looks in their faces. Spurred on by my there’s-no-turning-back attitude as well as the fact that all the Jeeps and trucks were keeping on keeping I manned up and kept on too. The road was getting dusty, muddy and narrow at the same time and I pulled over a couple of times to ask sedans pulled over with their hazard lights if they needed help. They were either waiting on someone or were consulting their maps. I finally ran into a young man pulled off into the brush that seemed to know what he was doing. I pulled up to him as he was happily thumbing through his case of CDs (I dug it). Looking into his old school BMW I could see scattered clothes and some pillows, he was down with the #vanlife. I asked him if he knew which campsites were open and he told me that Madison was (too far and I ain’t turning around) and that Mammoth might be but that it filled up quickly. I thanked him and asked what he was planning to do and he replied, “I’m just gonna find somewhere here and kick it for the night, it’s getting dark and ain’t no one gonna come find you just as long as you get going early in the morning”. I thanked him and wished him the best. Pulling into Mammoth Hot Springs I breathed a sigh of relief. Suddenly I was surrounded my tourists and buildings. Who would have known that there was a huge built up town around the Springs? Turning the corner I had another sigh of relief as I gratefully pulled into a full and lively camp. Throwing some duffels on the roof I began my campsite procedures. Within minutes I had water boiling, tunes playing and a cold beer in my hand. Watching the sun set as The Head and The Heart played in the background I finished up my Backpacker’s Pantry Pad Thai and Snake River Lager and crawled into Rhyhorn. 

The next morning I explored the Mammoth Hot Springs itself. A far bigger set of hot springs than Midway Geyser Basin, I was happy with all of the different colors I found. The forest and landscape around the hot springs were just as amazing.

Heading south back towards the west entrance I had made the decision to fully explore the rest of the western arm of the park. I decided that I would come back one day to fully do the central and eastern tours of the park justice. I am glad that I did because the drive turned out to be a totally different experience in the daylight, unsullied by the wicked stress of my insatiable control freak tendencies (I am working on it, it is one of my greatest vices and I have paid far too much a soul should for it). Rock formations.

In the daylight I was able to see vistas that captured perfectly the range of ecosystems Yellowstone was made up of. I mentally refer back to Pokémon for a lot of my inspiration but also for a lot of basic ecological dynamics. Every ecosystem has a variety of different flora and fauna and every ecoregion has their own set of these subsets and shit, every ecoregion of different continents have their own species and don’t even get me started on biomes. From day 1 of the trip I was encountering new trees, new birds, new mammals and came into contact with my first mega fauna - Bison. It really has opened my eyes even more to why I love the field I am in. And it has helped stoke stoke stoke a fire burnin deep within me to keep going. 

My last geyser stop of the trip was at the Norris Geyser Basin. By far the largest basin I had visited I was blown away at the size of the Porcelain Basin (the smaller of the two basins).

The light blue of the hot springs contrasted with the stark whiteness of the dry sand and both worked to make the dark greens and blues of the trees and ridges pop. It was both a complex of nature as well as artistry. And was a bitch to photograph. 

Pulling out of Norris (hehe) I gunned it for the west entrance. It was already 1400 hours and I had a 10 hour drive ahead of me. The mission was Boise, ID where my cousins awaited me, and where my solo trip would end. Driving as fast as I could I hurtled past overlooks and Bison like I just got the Warden’s teeth and didn’t have no time for Tauros. But a herd grazing along the Madison River I hadn’t seen during my trip in caused me to stop. Sitting along the riverside smoking a cigar as he gazed into the valley was an elderly man wearing a leather hat and jacket (cowboy not biker). I approached him quietly and shouted, “Howdy, how are you sir?” “Doing good, just trying to stay downwind”. I made small talk with him as I framed and shot a few pictures of the Bison. He was from Idaho Falls, ID but his family was originally from Roanoke, VA. I told him that I was from Virginia and had a good friend that lived in Franklin County just south of Roanoke and that I really like Roanoke. I told him that I was headed towards Boise, ID to which he grinned, took a deep hit of the cigar and gave me a thumbs up. “Boise is a great city, lots of bars. Lots of bars. It’s like a college town. You’ll like it there”. I told him I was excited and that I had a long drive ahead of me. Then he gave me some damn good advice, “It gets worse before it gets better to Boise. The state troopers in Idaho are all back and don’t give you any warning”. I thanked him saying that the innocuous, pastel blue police of Michigan caught me off guard. Taking one last breath of Yellowstone I walked over to him and asked him what he thought. 

“That’s a beautiful camera and a damn beautiful photo. Well done.”

Pulling into Boise, ID I felt a feeling of relief and accomplishment. I would soon join Khemm and Amanda and would be the closer to Oregon and my new life than I had ever been. The Gladics family really opened their doors to me and treated me far better than I could have ever asked for. The last time I had seen them was at Khemm and Amanda’s wedding back in 2011. At the time I knew them as a shy, polite and reserved family. With the exception of her eccentric brother who had the perfect curly mustache and tophat I believed them to be quiet homebodies. But I was wrong. Both of her parents had careers in forestry. Her father had hitchhiked across the United States, was a wildfire firefighter and spoke on environmental issues at the congressional level. To put it simply, her parents are O.G.’s. Her and her brother, Pat, didn’t fall far from the tree at all. Think the incredibles. Amanda went off to study wildlife as well and works badass jobs off the pacific coast riding the seasonal waves of fishing boats up as far as Alaska and her brother is a former Hotshot turned Smokejumper turned Helitack that spends the off-season sewing custom firefighting gear and basejumping. The Gladics name is a name anchored in badassery and badassery. Not to mention they have a beautiful home and Pat has an awesome camper (set up on a RAM 2500 running a cummins).

Heading out on the road the next day I was, for the first time in a long time, part of a caravan and the mission was none other than Portland, OR. The drive through Idaho was tiring and surreal at the same time. I really wasn’t sure how to handle the fact that I was driving behind my cousins towards their home. It has been 4 years since I started talking to them about moving out there. Since I started asking them for help and advice on getting my feet wet in conservation. It was at my lowest point after a big breakup, jumping ship from pharmacy and full on taking the hit of unemployed, existential crisis that I started this blog. I wanted something that I could look back on and reflect on. Much like the ink and paper journals that I have been keeping since the 3rd grade, I believe that there is so much intrinsic value to words. The words we speak and write. They are us, they are real and they are proof that for a time we breathed and lived in this world. Aside from courage and action I don’t think there is anything in this world more powerful or as beautiful as words. It was a lot to handle as I drove into the afternoon sun. 

We stopped in Pendleton, OR for lunch and yes, Pendleton as in the American heritage brand Pendleton. The gear junkie and gear history buff in me was freaking out to be in the town that the old woolen mill was founded and still operated. We stopped by the store after lunch with hopes of me finding a nice pillow case for my favorite pillow. Once we got in there the reality of how much a heritage brand can charge for their products. I’m talking an average of $200 a blanket and about $40 a set of pillow cases. Albiet the products were wool and still made in the USA (most of which literally in the next room) I just couldn’t afford them right now. But I enjoyed being in the first store and watching the information videos and gazing quickly into the museum. I am a sentimental person and, as natural and simple as I am trying to live, I am admittedly materialistic. Not in the shop till you drop sense but in the sense that I place a lot of sentiment into the things I own. My truck, my tin cup, my first Patagonia t-shirt I got 5 years ago. I don’t own many things but the things that I do purchase are usually aligned with a special moment in my life and I figured that when the moment came that I would get said blanket it would have been for a good reason. I’m sure I will find a great one one day by chance in a Goodwill or from a friend and I think that’s the best way to come across the things we carry. Besides, for that kind of money I should just invest in a good sheep. I know some people. 

After Pendleton my cousin Khemm took over giving me the chance to focus on taking pictures. We were heading westward and would soon join the mighty Columbia River and descend into the Colombia River Gorge of legend. If you are a close friend of mine then you know that Foster Huntington has, for a long time, been a big inspiration of mine. Not just because of the nomadic lifestyle that he chose when he left his design job in New York to drive across the U.S. and surf up and down the west coast, but because of the earnest way he looks at life and how unabashedly sentimental and grateful he is for the simple things. Finding his blog in 2011 incepted me with an idea that my life was meant for something far greater than the pharmacy counter of a CVS and that there was no such thing as “too late” until you gave up. It set into motion a domino effect of changes that culminated in me starting Rhyhorn’s engine on April 19th 2015. My eyes watering as I held back tears and my muscles cramping as I waved goodbye to my family and my home and my state. I think that life is too short and too precious not give our dreams the weight that they deserve. I think that life is to long to carry with us sadness and hurt. And I think that our souls are reflected in the people that we keep around us. And finally, I believe with all my heart that there isn’t anything in this world as important as how you treat another life…My apologies for the deep tangent. The Colombia River Gorge was a home base for Foster during his formative years and is now his current home base when he isn’t adventuring. Check out his amazing Cinder Cone project that him and his friends created. As we descended further into the Columbia River Gorge the landscape changed dramatically from the open farmlands and barren hillsides of Eastern Oregon to the lush greenery of the west. Shooting out of my window into the setting sun gave me the perfect lighting for what I like to call the “classic road trip photo”. 

Pulling into Portland the feels were at an all time high. My trip had come to completion but in a much more significant way it had come to fruition. I had done it. I had driven across the United States by myself. I had completed my mission and had taken an idea and made it into a reality. This was the beginning of a story I couldn’t possibly begin to predict. All I knew, as I unpacked the truck that I had come to call home, was that everything that happened from this moment on was going to be new and was going to be significant. I was starting anew with a clean slate and nothing but potential and I knew it was all dependent on how much i put into it. You make of life what you make of life. You can’t control what happens to you completely but you can control what you choose to do next. This marks Day 1 of the next chapter in my life and I am so happy and so grateful for all of the people that have made this possible. I am grateful for my loving family that has cared for me all my life and whom became my closest friends. I am grateful for my amazing friends who have believed in me every step of the way and who have inspired me with their own courage and their own battles. You have taken care of me beyond what I could have ever ask for and you have treated me with the kindness and love of a family. This trip wasn’t just for me, and I’m not accepting an Oscar, this trip was for all of you. In my darkest times of fear and loneliness I thought of everyone and how much they were all going through and how much they were counting on me. I know I’m not the center of the universe but from the sheer amount of you that told me that you were proud of me and that you were inspired by me - I did this for you. I am so privileged that I could make a trip like this and, though it was just a road trip it meant so much more than that to me. Here’s to life and taking the leap. Here’s to courage and the beauty and strength that it represents. Here’s to who the hell can possibly know! Cheers from the west coast my friends, let’s cross paths again soon.

Chris

Saturday December 21, 2013
11:34

It’s hard to look back through my SMSC photographs and think about how quickly the last 4 months have passed by. 4 months is nothing at all - simply a semester’s time, and yet during those few months it felt like I was part of a different world. I don’t know if it’s a sudden upwelling of premature nostalgia, or a need for final words - closure. But I’d like to quickly recount the last weeks of my time with my SMSC family as well as where my life has taken me since. 

Our finals were comprised of 3 hour long situational questions. However, SMSC isn’t your average semester program and surprised us with situations were we had to go through camera trap photos and create species abundance graphs as well as species present at a carcass data analysis. There was a moment when we needed to pack our things and move to our computer lab and update a GIS map of our campus with new roads. The hands on, out-of-the-box method of teaching SMSC provided is something that made the 4 short months spent there worth years of lab and field experience - and I am forever grateful for that. Our finals week was, however, a bittersweet experience. Not because of the exams themselves but because of their implications. We were quickly and unavoidably getting closer to the end of our semester. As a result every moment of those last two weeks of class were not spent studying or reviewing but were spent together. We played Magic: The Gathering, we watched movies, we made friendship bracelets, we played in the snow, we hiked, we had pizza parties and we snuggled erratically. It was as if  we were’t just holding onto the last moments we had together as a family, but were holding onto to the last moments we had as carefree college students. Before a number of us lay a long and difficult road of job searching, grad school applications and internship hunting. Before all of us lay the selfless, underfunded road of conservation. Through the echoing of the hallways I could hear the voices of the 11 people that had become my family. I thought about our futures and how drastically we all have changed since the first day. I believe it was a coincidence that 12 extremely sentimental people were thrown into the same semester (it’s a fact that other semesters were not nearly as close or awesome as us) and hold it true to myself that it was a miracle (it literally was, ACS’ class was only 5 people which was under the minimum amount of enrollment needed - it was almost cancelled) that we all got to meet each other. 

When our last week finally arrived we were once again thrown into a flurry of activity - it was final presentations and closing week. Having already delivered our group monitoring plan presentation a few weeks ago, we were left with presenting our individual visual essays describing our practicum experiences. It was the first time we were all able to see what our classmates did for their mini-internship. We got to see how much poop scooping, bush-wacking, camera trapping, tree finding, park educating, turtle finding and food prepping we all did. We truly were a class of comedians and made short work of making our practicum advisors, teachers and supervisors cry with laughter. Then came our closing ceremonies. Gathered in the dining hall we had all come to love, we watched as our beloved teachers called us up one by one and explained to us exactly how much they loved us and how much they will miss us. They recounted to us our quirks and sayings, they brought up memories and jokes and did it all in front of us, our families, researchers and visiting conservationists - for each and every one of us. I don’t think I’ve ever smiled, laughed and nearly man-teared so much. These teachers were our friends. They went above and beyond every day to teach us, drive us, feed us and even secret santa with us. Throughout this semester I talked to them as well as several of the researchers as humans. I tried to learn more about their likes and dislikes. Their families and their goals. I saw them all as good, honest, hard working people and not just teachers or supervisors - and it all paid off. I came away from the semester with a group of fantastic people I can call my friends. This came in quite handy when nearly all of them jumped to tell me that they would gladly say good words about me while I was applying for internships. Speaking of which, the last two weeks for me were a flurry of stressful internship applications, emails, contacting and reference hunting. What emerged from all of it was a shiny, new 5 month long internship at SCBI with Dr. McShea! I had done it! I came into this semester with 2 main goals: Learn everything I can possible learn and get a job/internship. Landing that internship was the product of nearly a years worth of hard work and determination. As this blog can attest, I needed this lifeline desperately. As I walked away from Dr. McShea’s office through the campus towards the Residence Hall I thought about the place I would soon be calling home for another 5 months. I thought about how empty the halls were already - my friends leaving in their cars one tearful round of hugs after another. I thought about how we were like god damn dragon balls shooting away all across the world never to be reunited again for a long long time. I thought about how it isn’t the buildings that truly make a place special to you - it’s the people in them. As I walked away from that office my feelings of excitement poured out of my brain and churned with the overwhelming tide of sentiment pouring out of my heart. By the time I found Becca, Jeff and Laurie sitting on the floor of our desolated hallway I was a mess. After helping Becca finish up her packing, Laurie and I exchanged last hugs in our parking lot and watched our two RAs walk back into the now completely empty Residence Hall. It would be only a short time before I would be coming back here - but not for a long time would I be seeing any of them again. 

I had the amazing fortune of meeting Laurie Stubenrauch this semester. She’s a strong-headed, strong-willed, rough and tumble girl from Long Island studying biology in Michigan and I absolutely adore her. What started off as casual late-night study sessions and conversations turned into a wonderful friendship. Fast forward 4 months and I just got back from meeting her parents and friends in her hometown of Huntington, NY. She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met. To put it plainly and in a nutshell, I’ve never met a girl that so perfectly blends a love of the outdoors, art, music, fashion and sports without the streak of utter bullshittery so many girls nowadays have in them (I mean no offense, unless you are the type of girl I am alluding to, in that case you are absolutely awful). Again and again I find myself realizing how lucky I am to have met a woman like her. We spent the week after our departure from SCBI having a tour de meet-the-parents. She spent 3 days in Virginia meeting my friends and family prior to my visit up north and I must say it was a collision of many of my worlds. Seeing her there in my house eating with my family, seeing her in my room helping sew my worn out jeans, seeing her interacting with my friends and walking with me in Fairfax Corner past my REI - it was all surreal and special. For so long I have discounted my chances of romance. So worn out has my heart and mind been from the terrible relationships that have made up my past. My mind was so set on getting to where I wanted to be professionally I felt I wouldn’t meet anyone, let alone actually pursue a relationship until after I was independent and living on my own. She blindsided me. In our short time together she has inspired in me a new type of hope I haven’t had before. She has encouraged me to believe in myself as well as my dreams. She has shown me that not all is as dark as it seems and that hard work and a little luck is all one ever needs. She has shown me the value of being wild and spontaneous as well as the value of just sitting back and listening to each other exist. But most of all, she has shown me that despite the distance, despite the timing and despite the many many variables of our chaotic futures - there are things worth holding on to. In the words of The Oh Hellos, In Memoriam, “If you leave from the start then there was never love at all”.

It’s been a crazy 4 months of my life. As it all comes to a close I look back at it with a final reflection and think to myself, “it has only begun”.

Here’s to the next step, the next adventure.

Chris

It’s been too long since I’ve last written my thoughts here. So much has happened since my last entry. Perhaps the best way to describe it would be to say its been an “avalanche” of positivity and change. It all started when I packed my life into a 90L duffel, grabbed my pack and my guitar and headed out for the north for my cousin’s wedding. I knew right then and there that I had finally taken the first steps of an exciting adventure. The trip up north through NJ, RI and MA was everything that I could have asked for. I got to see family from all over the world colliding in the humble houses of my New England family. Aunts and Uncles that took care of my brother and I during our stay in France, cousins all the way from Oregon that I only got to see on facetime and Christmas and Cambodian relatives that took us all over Cambodia helping my father find the home he grew up in all collided and it was a surreal moment. The power of a family that stops at nothing comes together is unlike anything else in this world. The house was so crowded that I simply set up camp in the backyard for the whole week. I slept at 10 and woke at 6 to the fresh New England air (yes, it is different) and the sound of wild turkeys (and sprinklers) - it was perfect. The best part of the wedding, hands down, had to be when my cousin and her husband walked out onto the stage to begin their first dance and, instead of having “Ho Hey” played by the DJ, all of my cousins and I ran onto the stage guitar, ukulele and pill bottle filled with golf tees a-blazin’ and sang them the whole song. She was in tears by the first chorus. I don’t mean to be overly sentimental but I think I almost cried playing that guitar haha. After a few delicious Samuel Adams later, a whole lot of dancing and quite a bit of street cred with the cute Boston College white girls, the night drifted away into the misty air. And just like that woke up the next morning at 5am, broke down my tent, packed my car, hugged my family tightly and headed straight for Front Royal, VA.

Just like that I found myself in a small town swallowed by the Blue Ridge Mountains surrounded by the new faces of whom would become some of the best people I’ve ever met (don’t let that get to your heads guys). Those who’ve followed this blog from day one know exactly how hard I’ve been working to get to SMSC and that first night just standing in the middle of my empty dorm I most definitely cried like a little girl. It’s one thing to get an email saying you’ve been accepted to a program but it’s an entirely different thing waking up in the morning, looking across a beautiful campus and seeing the mountains. It’s only been 3 short weeks but I have already been overwhelmed with huge amounts of kindness, learning and adventure. Right off the bat I made a good friend and fellow adventurer named Tyler Robic and hit the AT the morning of our first class. Things pretty much took off after that. There is no short of being in the great outdoors here. The massive campus is gated but so large that it contains its own forest and it’s own pesky population of white-tailed deer. Our day-to-day are a perfect balance of in-class theory/policy and fieldwork and data collection outside in the SMSC campus or on surrounding farms and research centers. There are no words to describe how good it feels to get my hands back in the earth and my mind back in the classroom. For so long I have been yearning to be productive - to have a direction and goal to work towards. The limbo of unemployment and the cutting knife of rejection have made me a humble and grateful man. The people here are good people to say the least. The staff are the kindest, most down to earth professors I’ve ever met. I forget sometimes that I am surrounded my PhD’s and leaders in conservation - they are all so fun and real to talk to. My classmates are from all over the place (OR, CA, MI/NY, VA) and are quite an eclectic mix of people. There is no end, I mean NO END, to the bonding, laughs and adventures we share. I have to admit that even though it’s just week 3 I already kind of miss them all…My knowledge base of ecology and conservation biology is slowly increasing and I am starting to work out parts of my brain that I forgot that I had. I am also making sure to write down all of the street cred that I get from volunteering/ working with the researchers here and I am nursing a beef jerky addiction. Needless to say, there is so much to experience here and this blog will be seeing much more of it before the end of these 4 months.

Finally, I had the opportunity to attempt to hike the Roaring Plains circuit in Davis, WV this past weekend. When they say that West Virginia is the wild and the wonderful they are not kidding. It’s like going back in time every time I suit up and head out there. John Denver was right, life is old there and things take on the air of a simpler yesterday. To put it lightly, the hike was brutal. It opened up with a small field of wild flowers but quickly led to a misty, pine-filled climb along the ridgeline of the mountain. For several hours we climbed upwards across slippery rocks and fairly deep streams - the whole time envisioning the breathtaking plains sprawling in the wind. We eventually reached a fire road that would, in 1 mile, finally put us at the Roaring Plains trail. It was along this calm respite that we realized that we were running low on time and daylight. If my buddy Zach was to get back at home by 2000 we would need to turn around by 1630 latest. Needless to say we began a frantic trail run into the woods. At about 1600 we stopped for lunch and the turn-around. We never made it to the plains but we were 4000ft. up, surrounded my pines and could kind of see the peaks of the Allegheny in the distance - we were satisfied. These were some of my favorite people and I appreciated just being able to get out here. They met up with me 830 that morning outside of Front Royal’s only Target. They drove an hour to get there and the hugs and back slaps were something I really needed. These were guys that, only half a year ago, were complete strangers working with me at REI. Over a couple of hikes and many many fun days at work, they became my good friends. And here we were, Sean holding down the fort at REI, Zach working hard at Enterprise and me going back to school to save the world one tree at a time. It’s cliche but it certainly wasn’t the destination this time but rather the journey and who I made it with. We pretty much ran the rest of the way back home, piled into Zach’s car shirtless, ran over my glasses and blasted Led Zepplin all the way home - it was just as I missed. We will certainly attempt Roaring Plains again in the future, our campaign to press westward won’t stop for anything.

All in all that’s everything that’s been happening lately, in a nutshell and in only 10 photos. Life is strange, that much I know. Sometimes you are drowning in a endless sea of lost hope, and sometimes you are snowboarding down an avalanche of positivity and change. Everyday is an adventure that has just begun and you just need to get yourself out of bed, strap up your boots and make life TAP. 

Here’s to never giving up and trekking on.

Chris

"I knew right then and there that I had finally taken the first steps of an exciting adventure."

"The house was so crowded that I simply set up camp in the backyard for the whole week."

"She was in tears by the first chorus."

"Just like that I found myself in a small town swallowed by the Blue Ridge mountains surrounded by the new faces of whom would become some of the best people I've ever met."

"It's one thing to get an email saying you've been accepted to a program but it's and entirely different thing waking up in the morning, looking across a beautiful campus and seeing the mountains."

"My classmates are from all over the place (OR, CA, MI/NY, VA) and are quite an eclectic mix of people. There is no end, I mean NO END, to the bonding, laughs and adventures we share."

"There are no words to describe how good it feels to get my hands back in the earth and my mind back in the classroom."

"Needless to say we began a frantic trail run into the woods."

"At about 1600 we stopped for lunch and the turn-around."

"It's cliche but it certainly wasn't the destination this time but rather the journey and who I made it with."

     Good grief, I have learned my lesson on rushing things. It’s been too long since I’ve updated this blog and the one night I finally have enough time and energy I accidentally delete my ENTIRE Lightroom catalog/ photos. Definitely didn’t understand what my computer meant by clearing my Lightroom catalog to make space - I still don’t know what that means…Anyways, having meticulously recovered at least these past couple of months, I am going to still try to update this thing. 

     10 days ago I was fortunate enough to celebrate my 23rd birthday with my closest friends at Busboys and Poets in Arlington. Never one for large crowds, let alone large crowds focused on me, I have to say the dinner went by amazingly. It was the overlapping of many different circles of friends and family and, as one of my friends put it, it was “real-life google circles”! Among the guests were my best friend Lillian of whom I have had a love-hate relationship for the past 5 years. She’s seen my at my best and at my worst and has been with me through many an emotional, physical and natural disaster. I couldn’t ask for a better person to keep me frustrated and grounded as her and love her with all my heart. But sometimes I just want to shake the hell out of her. Next was the amazing power couple Jerry and Sonja. Jerry was with me through my photography semester and represented to me the discovery and embrace of the art half of my life. He represented the completely different world of art I had the privilege to live and grow in ultimately shaping me into a braver, bolder gentleman. He is also the responsibility circle of my friends. Work hard, play hard and treat your lady right - you are my #gent for life Jerry Jones! Then there was Sean Lacey! My co-worker, my good friend and my partner in adventure. Sean has shown and taught me not only a huge amount of gear knowledge but has opened my eyes to the world of good honest adventuring. Gone are the days off spent in my house or just sleeping in. If you don’t have anything planned that day get outside and have an adventure or do something for the community. Since meeting him in just these short 3 months I have hiked 4 mountains (one completely at night), spent the day stacking hay and repairing trailers at a farm and manned beer tent at a huge outdoor concert. I learned from Sean the value of being active and giving back. I learned from him the value of living a simple, honest, hardworking life. That there isn’t ever anything to big or too small to be considered an adventure and that there are times where you just need to strap on your boots and “TAP THEM OUT”! Then there was my sister Ivy Te (to the right of me). She’s been with me as long as Lillian has and has always been there to keep my spirits up. Kindred spirits, we have always been able to talk heart to heart through thick and thin and there aren’t many people out there that understand and care about me as much as she does. Always the voice of reason and patience she has helped me with my decisions and has always been there to appreciate my taste in clothes and music haha. If Lillian is the devil, which she is, then Ivy is the angel and I love her to death. My fantastic family was there too! My cousins Kanika, Lisa and Michael were all there. Kanika has become not only a closer cousin and friend to me but she is also my kick-ass-ready-to-rumble BJJ partner in crime! It was because of her and a groupon that we discovered Silverback Academy and that my life has been blessed with BJJ. I really owe her for constantly driving me to go to practice and for always being there to listen to my silly life rants. My life has become more confident, patient and stronger because of BJJ and her. My cousins Lisa and Michael have grown up with me. We went through all of the awkward growing stages and then some but they have always supported me. Even during my fat, geeky, yugioh playing days they would still invite me out to parties and the such and man do I appreciate how patient they were haha! My twin basically, Lisa has gone through college with the same “become a doctor” pressure that I have and, seeing as how neither of us are doctors, I can say she is in the same “omg what am I going to do with my life” boat I am in now. Always there to talk life with me, I love my cousin Lisa to death and would do anything for her. Of course the dinner couldn’t have been complete without my boys (Manisha included)! I grew up with these hoodlums and couldn’t have asked for a better group of guys! I say hoodlum but it’s ironic seeing as how Johnny is my age and already has a master’s degree, several published scientific papers, a girlfriend (yes that’s an accomplishment) and is on his way to becoming an extreme kayaker. Mason just graduated and is already working a salary job for Accenture, is an avid fisher and is a consistant gym rat (and he’s single ladies). Manisha, aside from knowing every exotic dance known to man, is both a teacher and a lab tech all in the meanwhile applying to medical school. Needless to say, one’s character can be seen in the people they choose to surround themselves with and I must say I am blessed to have so many amazing people in my life - they make me look really, really good. I love these people to death and know they will be with me for the long haul. Here’s to a birthday well-spent with people well-loved. 

Trek On,

Chris

"She's seen me at my best and at my worst and has been with me through many an emotional, physical and natural disaster."

"He represented the completely different world of art I had the privilege to live and grow in ultimately shaping me into a braver, bolder gentleman."

"Of course the dinner couldn't have been complete without my boys (Manisha included)!"

"I learned from him the value of living a simple, honest, hardworking life."

What better way to kick off spring break than a trip to the National Zoological Park? My brother, Alex, and a number of my friends came home from UVA this week and thought it’d be nice for an impromptu journey into DC. Much to the surprise of my father and I, my brother asked if he could borrow one of the DSLR’s to start shooting around UVA. In terms of men of the So household who are photographers, my brother was the last frontier. We decided to let him take the 5D into DC with us and I gave him an extremely simplified breakdown of manual shooting during the metro in.  To be honest, he picked it up remarkably quick and was able to properly expose a photo within his first 5 tries. I made sure to tell him to try to photograph things in a variety of difficult situations such as against the sky and inside a dark museum (see his shot against the sky). 

I am absolutely in love with the NZP. I have gone several times by myself and even dragged my friends here for my 18th birthday. The animals are all somewhat sentimental to me after the photography project I did on them as well as the sheer amount of research and applications I have sent to work/ intern for the NZP. Nothing too remarkable today but I did capture the curious face of one of the Red Pandas (as you can see I too can use some work shooting into the sky). 

Sunday was the usual relaxed day around the house. The weather was so remarkable that we decided to do some yard work. Some cousins of mine came over and we all decided to head to the nearby lake for some fishing. It was another wonderful opportunity for my brother to develop his photography skills. This time he had to figure out how to properly expose the sky, water and trees/ houses of a landscape. Of course the day couldn’t end without the cliche photographer’s-photo-of-a-photographer. 

All in all, another wonderful weekend to be thankful for. I’m starting this week a bit behind and have a lot to do but things do seem hopeful. 

Here’s to good people, good times and good things to come.

Trek On,

Chris

Alex and his girlfriend, Kristine.

Alex's shot against the sky.

A curious, tired Red Panda.

My dear brother, Alex.

Alex's shot of my by the lake. 

The beautiful lake behind our house. 

Went on an impromptu trip to NJ with my cousin/friend/BJJ partner Kanika (pictured above) over the weekend. Job searching and resume editing for weeks at a time has really started to take a toll on me. ‘The rejections are an experience and learning opportunity’, is what I’ve been telling myself.

Honestly, it was nice to get out of the area even for the 2 days that we went. We stayed in the East Brunswick area and ate at a dim sum restaurant nearby. The food and service was terribly lacking. What I found interesting was the strange abandoned lots in the area behind the restaurant. Surrounding a small cement platform was a army of little saplings and trees. The platform seemed so out of place it was almost haunting. A small glimpse into a technologically apocalyptic world, perhaps? I found a drainage area framed by two trees and thought to myself how much nicer the spot would be if a nearby parking lot didn’t send its overflow into it. Along the same vein I found a pathway of trees that lead directly to a fence and neighborhood. It reminded me of long stretching pathways of trees I saw in France. They led to castles, gardens, museums…

Wanderlust has bitten me so hard these past months. It’s not exactly that I can’t up and hit the world with just my bag and my camera, it’s that I just won’t feel right until I have a steady job. It’s in my being to have structure, work and productivity. I wouldn’t be able to travel and explore if I knew I wasn’t making a difference, a change. That’s what you get when you spend weeks dissecting AmeriCorps’ and PeaceCorps’ websites and fanatically reading as many personal blogs of volunteers as humanly possible…I have a few opportunities coming up that may get me shots at the EPA and the Smithsonian. My resume has been diced up and taped back together so many times yet it never feels like it’s enough. I need to spice up my cover letter as well…That’s what happens when a Pre-Pharm student decides last minute to follow his dreams into Environmental Conservation - a tough uphill battle, but one that I think will be so incredibly worth it.

Here’s to getting up, brushing off and moving forward.

Trek On,

Chris