I decided to do something daring before I turned 30. Editing the travel stories submitted to the magazine I worked at was entertaining, sure, but made me long for my own adventure. So a month before my 29th birthday I quit my job, flew one-way to North America, bought a Chevy Suburban, and drove it across half the country — twice. Billy, here, was my only company. His four feet gently swayed over the grasses and bitumen and hillsides that stretched out before me, rendering every landscape one where the buffalo — my solitary, two-dimensional buffalo — roamed.Continue reading “Roaming With My Buffalo”
If I was ever to write down everything I knew about photography, it would be instructions scrawled on a napkin explaining how to get to an island off the coast of British Columbia, which will set up every shot for you, and ask for nothing but appreciation in return.
When you’re a solo traveller, the only thing that’s going to try to undress you is the wind. Read about day one of my last epic road trip as the High-Functioning Hobo: Vancouver Island to the Hoh National Rainforest. It was nippy.Continue reading “Road Trip, Day One”