Snowy Morning in Joshua Tree

As the wind pushed the van around, sleet pattered against the exterior of my metal box. It is 5:22 am, about an hour before the time I wanted to wake up, but I know now is the time. I kiss my partner and roll out of bed. My feet land on the chill of the floor, I grab my journal and head to the front seat to get some thoughts down on paper. 

As I wait for the sun’s rays to work its way into the atmosphere, I flow atop the yoga mat, loosening my body for the wandering that is soon to come. 

Stepping out of the van, the temperature is 29 degrees Fahrenheit, there is a fresh layer of snow in the desert. Quickly closing the door in hopes of keeping my partner’s warmth within, I begin to wander. The goal, return with a few images I can be proud of on this unique morning. I mean, how often do you get to see snow in the desert?

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Almost immediately, my eyes begin to water as the wind attempts to blow me off the cliff. Each step lands with a crunch from the frozen earth. My hands, even though they are covered by gloves, are losing feeling. Escaping the winds barrage, I dip behind a rock on the edge of a cliff. Pulling out my camera, I am ready to start creating. 

At this point, my memory of the morning is blank. 

There is a feeling when you are on the right path in life that motivates you to keep going. Waking up any hour doesn’t become a chore, but something you look forward to experiencing. For myself, the opportunity to get out of bed and be splendidly surprised by this world has no price tag, nor can I think of a greater way to live. When I find myself in the position of living in the present, I lose all sense of worry or grandeur, I am simply living. The voices in my head have stopped arguing, I hit my flow state, and experience my surroundings.

This loss of memory is just that, me flowing through life. 

Walking the road back to the van, I am hiding my hands in my pockets. My camera battery has indicated that it is dead, but really it has frozen. I can feel the windburn setting in, yet my body is warm. Actually, my body is hot. Crawling into the front seat of the van, I try to be as quiet as possible, for my partner is still asleep. Taking a peek over my shoulder, she looks absolutely beautiful as she continues to sleep in the back.

Turning my gaze to the camera’s viewfinder, I scroll through the images. I may have achieved my mornings' goal.

A Name for Everything: Tips for Becoming a Digital Nomad

Until this past weekend, I had no idea the term “Digital Nomad” existed. Turns out, earning a living through a digital medium, like photography, and living on the road or in a nomadic style, makes you a digital nomad. Low and behold, I can call myself a digital nomad. Thank goodness I have another box to fit within! As I scrolled through the wiki page, I realized the box which fits me best is a sub-category of nomads called Van-dwellers. For some odd reason, I like the term van-dweller more than van-lifer. I wonder if anyone else has these same thoughts? Anyways, I digress. I wanted to share some tips and tricks I’ve learned as I dawn this fancy new Digital Nomad title from these past 4-years of roaming.

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Be an autonomous learner

Unfortunately, there is no guide map nor “how-to” when it comes to envisioning, designing, and building your life. So, in the beginning, you will have more questions than answers. If you are able to understand how you learn best, answering these unknowns will provide relief. This relief comes from a build-up of confidence. Now, you may notice there is a cycle between knowledge and confidence. With each turn of the cycle, better choices happen to allow you to execute your goals. At times not knowing can be scary and even daunting, especially in the beginning, however, once you understand how you learn, you can teach yourself anything, building your confidence and relieving your worries.

Less you have achieved, before starting, the better

With a beginner mindset, you will be more open and free of routine. This allows an innate level of curiosity that will narrow and specialize as you design your lifestyle. If you are accustomed to living in a house or apartment, reducing your belongings, that have now become trappings, is difficult. Letting go of your things which showcased your successes hurts, but, in the end, it is worth it. On the contrary, if you have nothing, it is easy to leave, but the financial stress may be high. Setting goals, finding creative solutions, and building confidence can help in both cases.

Create your lifestyle, then find the right job

Understandably, this seems like backwards advice, but hear me out. If you are trying to design your life, but you do not know what you want to do, that is perfect. If you knew, you would already be doing it. Since you are taking the chance to learn through the school of hard knocks, you have the opportunity to find what is right for you. Life can take you in all sorts of directions; if you are open to learning the process—as an autonomous learner should be—then having a career, in the beginning, will only distract you. As your journey unfolds itself, you will learn what you need and what you want. At that point, you ask yourself, “How can I do this for the next three years?” Or, if you are one of the lucky ones, “How can I do this for the rest of my life?”

Have a vision, write it down, don’t be afraid to change it with time

A vision can be VERY vague. To give you an example, my initial vision was, “How can live within nature?” That question I asked myself became my life. I wrote it down and learned how I could spend every day outside. In my second year on the road, I slept under the stars over 200 nights and the rest were spent sleeping in a car that was too small for myself. That was as close as I got to the goal, but then things changed. I asked myself another question, “Could I become a photographer and still be under the stars?” Fast forward a few years, here we are, I am a photographer and I am loving the ups and downs!

Now that I just talked about myself too much, here are some bullet points:

-Dream up something, make sure it scares you a little. If it doesn’t scare you, it isn’t big enough!

-Write it down on a piece a paper, ideally a place you can see it multiple times. The dashboard of a car or the inside of a computer is a great place!

-As time goes on, ask yourself if your dream is still correct for you. If not, pivot. If you have achieved your goal, ask yourself, “How can I push this further?”

Final Take Away

With all this said, the key to success as a digital nomad, a van dweller, an entrepreneur, a family person, or anything in life follows an outline. Be able to learn anything. Decide what you want to learn. Build a life around what you are learning. Make sure to dream big, get started, reassess, and persist. I wish you the best in your journey and please reach out if you have any questions. I enjoy hearing from you all.

My Perfect Day: Tea Time on the Side of a Mountain

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Tired, out of breath, yet a smile on my face. I am on my way down the mountain, which, for me, is typically the scariest part of the trip. Each down step crunches as the spikes from my crampons dig into the frozen surface. My exhausted mind wanders off, but my eyes gaze upon the landscape. In the distance, more snow-covered peaks shoot up from the ground. The clouds are below me. Gosh, those must be some tough plants, I say to myself as I stare at the green in the valley below. Then reality hits me and I’m brought back to the present. My hands are relatively warm, my feet hurt, but my heart is filled with joy. Not far off, I can see the tents. Once there I will sit with others, and share a cup of tea. 

Each crunch brings me closer to that warm drink. Down-climbing, rappelling, and always trying to catch my breath. Life up here isn’t easy. Reminding myself that the place I had dreamt of standing, the top, was only halfway. Sometimes, I wonder what my top will be in life? Will it be today? Hopefully not, for there is much more to attempt. 

Fatigue sets in as my backpack rocks back and forth. The ridge-line drops on both sides into the abyss. Now is not the time to be thinking about the future. A breath in. A breath out. After a few more, I regain my focus. One foot, crunch, in front of the other, crunch. Some of the easiest things in life appear to be the hardest; breathing, walking and maintaining focus. 

Life in the mountains shows the value of every breath. While the air is thin, the struggle to breathe is often brought on by the views which the English language can’t explain. The fears that overcome me, I struggle to convey. Feeling your heartbeat spike, knowing that just cost you another two breaths.

Each footstep has been a struggle for the last 18 hours. The weight of plastic boots is heavy. My quads are burning. If only I could get enough oxygen into my lungs, I might be able to relieve some of the ever-building lactic-acid.

Fading in and out of the present, I use this as a defense against the pain in my body. Letting the mind go, my body can take over. However, if I am unable to dismiss my thoughts, then anxiety builds. Learning to control my mind will be a life-long journey.

I would be lying if I didn’t admit that my ego gets in the way. Often, pushing me beyond my known limit. Maybe that is where I am at, right now. Walking down a mountain from a challenge I gave myself when I was 22 years old. Who would have thought it would have taken me 8 years to make this trip? Surely, I did not. 

I want to say it is curiosity, but maybe it is the ego which challenges arrive. Regardless, working to accomplish the goals we give ourselves leads us through a purposeful life. Where will my next challenge begin? Will it be an ego trip or founded in curiosity? These are all questions I ask myself as I silently sit in the tent with a few others. Reflecting upon the experience, drinking tea we had all looked forward to once we left the summit.

Life’s a Marathon, Not a Sprint

Growing up I was constantly reminded that, “life is a marathon, not a sprint.” My mom, coaches, teachers, and other adults would tell me this almost daily. At times, I thought they were all in on a cruel joke! I hated these reminders! They did not make sense, why would you tell somebody that has a goal to slow down? Devoted to a pool, putting in 3 hours a day staring at a black-line does something to your mental state. I just wanted to go faster.

A quick side note about swimming, feel free to skip this paragraph. For those of you who have met or dated dedicated swimmers, or maybe is a swimmer, will understand the different mental state I am referencing. Like, who in their right mind wants to wake up at 4:00 am to be in a cold pool, wearing a speedo, unable to see the sunrise because you are staring at the bottom of the pool, and then go on with the rest of their day like it never happened? On top of that, have you ever realized that swimmers not only smell like chlorine and have fried hair, but they also train WAY TO MUCH! Swimmers become quite strange people if they stick with it for a while!

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Once I entered college, my coach quickly noticed my work ethic. At some point during my freshman or sophomore year, he pulled me aside and told me to stop training so much. Not a typical thing to hear from a coach. During that time, he convinced me to take a week for spring break and go backpacking through Zion National Park with the school's outdoor club. That trip rekindled my love for the outdoors, but I was still focused on playing sports at college. One teammate in specific came up to me in the library and said, “Yo man, you kinda scare me, you are like a robot.” I laughed and headed home to sleep. Obviously, I wasn’t a robot!

As the years past and I started to dabble my feet in the world around me, I fell off the band-wagon of working hard. Or, at least people stopped telling me that I scared them. Maybe my human-self began to poke out. Maybe something else got me moving in another direction, but, I didn’t feel any different. The routine kinda killed me, especially when graduation rolled around. Unsure where to go or what to do, I decided to cycle around the South Island of New Zealand upon graduation.

During the decompression trip, I filled three journals with subconscious thoughts. Sleeping in a tent and riding every day, all day long, gave me the ability to work out some of my mental blocks that the routine had created. Ironically, I was still bound by routine for I had to return home and get a job. At least, that is what I thought. Six months later, I was living in a car, had endless time, and not much money, yet I was finally free. As six months turned to a year, which turned to two, all those people who were playing a cruel joke on me switched up their rhetoric. Now the broken record sounded more like, “You are just kicking the can each time you take a trip. Why don’t you go finish your master’s degree and get a real job.” Scoff.

The next three years of freedom got me to where I am today; living in a van and photographing for a living. My freedom is almost unparalleled when compared to those who told me to get a job. Ironically, they are now telling me, “it looks like you might have done things right! It only takes 20 years to become an expert in the field. I hope you are looking forward to putting in your time.”

Maybe, growing up as a swimmer defined me. Maybe, I would be doing something else if my coach had not told me to train a little less. Maybe, I would be right where I am regardless. All I figured out thus far is we all run our marathons at different paces.

The Modern Hero

Growing up in a small town, I dreamed of experiencing this planet's beauty. “I want to see the world,” I would tell everyone. Adventures from the Magic Treehouse books and the History Channel got me excited for what was out there. Discovery Channel shows on ancient civilizations peaked my interests. Myths and tales of heroes overcoming challenges drove me to build a similar life. Something I couldn’t find in the farm town I was raised. 

One of my earliest memories is from a neighbor who showed me a slideshow on his computer of mystical places he had just returned from; Stonehenge and Rome. As middle school came around, history class studied the Samurai as well as Pharos. I built a model Roman bathhouse with my Dad while studying ancient Europe. From there my personal fascination with ancient life boomed. I consumed everything I could about the Greeks, Mayan, Inca, and Chinese focusing on their hero stories. Hercules was my favorite, but that was because of Disney. 

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Next came my love for explorers. All would kiss their loved ones goodbye and hope to return from their impossible task to tend the family farm so future generations would prosper. Maybe for several years, they would encounter the unknown. Some would board ships, drop their sails, and set off hoping a sea monster wouldn’t swallow them whole. Others would saddle their horse and ride off into the sunset, with a locket and a handkerchief tucked tightly against their chest from their bride to be. Why they never left in the morning still bewilders me.

All of these characters acted in the name of love. Pushing themselves beyond what they could imagine, into an unfamiliar mental and physical territory. Devoted to their task, they would spend years, if not a lifetime to overcome the challenges put in front of them. The shame of retiring unsuccessful was too great, so they pushed on. Learning about the world allowed them to understand what they could achieve. Limits no longer existed as they stood at the ship’s bow in an 80-foot swell. Courage, stupidity, determination, and, above all, love drove them to success.

I wanted to make my life one of those hero stories, but, in a world on the precipitous of self-driving cars, social media, border control, and consumerism, is there still a hero story to write? Google will tell us, all the three-headed dragons have been slain. Sleeping in a trees will get you put behind bars. With an eight-second attention spans of and divorce rates creeping around 45% how can one consider setting off on a journey in the name of love and prosperity for generations to come, when out of sight, out of mind is today’s reality?

There isn’t room for these stories in today’s chapter. A hero must give back all that was unrightfully inherited. The fight is no longer against nature, but against the constructs confining ourselves. Relearning how to trust others, share, and care for the land. If we want freedom, we must live out our contracts we have made, attempt to not pass on any obligations to our children, and work towards surrendering to the misfortune we have created. Learn the impacts of what we have created, feel the suffering, and heal each other. Our modern hero is not the one pushing the boundaries of what stuff can do, but those pushing the boundaries of how love can heal.

You Can’t Fall off a Mountain

“Ah Japhy you taught me the final lesson of them all, you can’t fall off a mountain.”

The Background:

The Dharma Bums by Jack Kerouac is the book that changed my mind about reading. Before picking up his book, my mind was made up; I hated reading. For some reason, I ended up with Kerouac’s novel about Zen Buddhism in the 1950s. Maybe this book came into my life at the perfect time, going into my Junior year of college. Which wasn’t the best time; I played water polo for Santa Clara Universities NCAA team and had to red-shirt because I tore my labrum in a practice, relationship trouble smacked me in the face, and I began to realize the plans I had played out in my head were no longer pointed towards my north star.

If you don’t know much about Kerouac, you should give him a quick Google search, but if you are feeling lazy here are some highlights that I have clung onto: The Beatles credit their name to Kerouac, a beatnik is pretty much a modern-day #vanlifer, Kerouac wrote Big Sur as a single run-on sentence, all of his books are fictionalized auto-biographies, and sadly he drank himself to death.

The Dharma Bums plot is the meeting and development of a bromance between Jack Kerouac and Gary Snyder through Zen. Now, by no means is this book a textbook on Zen Buddhism, nor would I even say The Dharma Bums is about Buddhism, but Zen is mentioned in almost every chapter. The irony is comical and the lessons on freedom and unlocking the self are thought-provoking if you give Kerouac’s words time to digest.

Why this quote:

The quote, “Ah Japhy [aka Snyder] you taught me the final lesson of them all, you can’t fall off a mountain…” said Kerouac to Snyder on their way down the Matterhorn in Northern Yosemite. While this quote shows the playfulness of Kerouac trying to understand there is meaning in every moment of life if you are willing to listen. While scrambling to the top of the Matterhorn is a physical accomplishment, the quote takes the physical and becomes metaphorical. Once you have reached a goal or the top of a mountain, it can not be taken away from you.

Just for fun, I am going to poke some holes in the quote. It is true, you can’t fall off a mountain, but you surely can fall down a cliff. Once we reach a goal, we can choose how we share our accomplishments. There is a right way and a wrong way, which has to do with our ego and how we accept/reject society's norms. If one decided to leap off a cliff, they would surely fall and… yup. Think about the people who accomplish something and take their sharing to far, the essentially jump off the cliff. A perfect example of the wrong way to come down the mountain. The irony in jumping off a cliff is the quote remains true, you can’t fall off the mountain because a mountain continues even after the cliff. Getting to the top of a mountain is only halfway, you still need to return safely.

As a person who enjoys a good scramble to the top of a peak, I deeply relate to this quote. However, at the time of reading The Dharma Bums, I did not have much outdoor experience. Kerouac’s novel sparked the kindling that lay inside of me which asked a simple question, “Why am I living?” Without knowing, this novel altered my path and directed me to where I am now… living in a van, pursuing a photography/writing career, and spending as much time as feasible possible wither in the mountains or the ocean.

The Mosquito

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During the endless battle of mosquitoes barraging you in the spring after a wet winter, I swat. Swatting away each little bite they take, drawing some blood with each attack. They are everywhere. Hiding under the table, in the hoodie, when you round a random corner, they are there. They get a little bit of extra attention as I try swatting away their annoyance, yet I make no progress. They are still there throughout the spring, into summer, the fall, even through the cold of the winter. Then, what do you know, they return in swarms whether the winter was wet or dry. 

As humans, we have done our best to destroy these little bugs. We have resorted to dropping poison from planes, spraying the side of the roads with pesticides to kill their eggs, and pollute our water to try to kill these mosquitoes. So, we kill ourselves to destroy the annoyance of something smaller than the tip of my finger. 

I hear us complain from inside of our wooden caves, cooled to the temperatures that keep our bodies from sweating. To avoid a little bug bite, we hide inside of our homes where we have ample food and enough space to forget we are stuck indoors, growing weaker. Our bodies degrade as we hide from the mosquito. Luckily we have stocked the house full of food, there is a way to get rid of our feces, and water endlessly flows from a metal tube. Once night comes, we have captured daylight in glass that turns on and off by the switch of a button but make sure to keep the door closed because those bugs are attracted to the glow. If you get bored, we have created a way of tuning out of the world around us by engaging with a screen that has never-ending artwork in the palm of our hands.

If we are lucky enough to have another life inside our cave, we probably do not even know they exist three-quarters of the time. Only during feeding times, breaks in the scrolling, and when mustering up the courage to brave the mosquito attacks do we acknowledge that another life is present. We could learn to learn the benefits of this little David’s, but why would Goliath endure discomfort?

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A note from the author:

Please understand this piece is supposed to be an exaggerated metaphor on human’s relationship with the constant struggle of living. The mosquito, a tiny little pest that all-to-often ruins my day, represents all of the little struggles we run into throughout our daily life. The ludicrous examples of “attempting” to fix the problem are how I feel we try to handle the continual onslaught, oftentimes overworking ourselves just to solve something we could ignore or prevent with an extra layer of clothing. The third paragraph is a metaphor for hiding our problems inside of ourselves instead of addressing them with a conversation that would be uncomfortable. Often I would say the lack of vocabulary, structure, and timing around communicating feelings is the beginning of the discomfort. 

Maybe, if our government would allow the education system to teach soft-skills there would less suffering on this planet? That is just my opinion. 

In the end, I hope this piece makes you a bit uncomfortable, makes you laugh at yourself, and then gives you the freedom to have a difficult conversation, do something you feared doing, or simply allow you to go for a walk with the mosquitos.

Taking One on the Head

Stuck inside, I dive deep into the ocean avoiding the oncoming wave. Hoping to not be sucked into the wave and thrown over the falls. Swimming down a bit late, I am lucky this wave’s energy doesn’t descend deep, but it does show up early and stay late. 

Surf photography from the water is something that I have come to love. I haven’t been able to nail down the exact reason why, but maybe it is a subtle reminder of who I was as a kid, swimming in a pool for hours every day. Maybe it is a reminder that my life on this planet is ephemeral, as the waves hold me under. Maybe it is something else.

As I begin returning to the surface, the tail-end of the wave swipes my feet out from underneath me. My body twirls and I have lost control. Then, out of nowhere, a push from below shoots me out of the water like a whale breaching. Immediately, I turn my gaze to the oncoming wave and realize my time is limited, so I take a long breath and begin to dive.

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When you are under a wave, at first all is calm. You can feel the power of the wave building, coming directly at you. You’ve accepted it is inevitable, you are going to be hit by the wave. Then, for a split second, when the wave is directly overhead, the lights go out. You are in complete darkness. Time seems to slow down at this point, you have held your breath for about 5-7 seconds. Just as you are about to move into the light, the power of the wave hits you. When you submit and relax your body, the wave typically spits you to the surface.

Popping back to the clear skies, everything is white. The foam from the churning wave resides. Another wave is coming. Trying to time my breath, I exhale, hoping to lower my spiking heart-rate. Another huge gasp, my fins are overhead, and I am diving deep. 

A… B… C… D… E… Saying the alphabet helps me maintain composure. Counting numbers builds anxiety, especially when I would get into the 20s and 30s. My ABC’s move slower as well, so I don’t freak out when 26 letters have past and I have to start again.

The wave hits me hard, I’m trying to make it to the surface. Tumbling me head over heals and in random 360s, I change from a ball into a pencil. I can see the light. I’m on letter H. The undercurrent straightens me out and shoots me to the surface.

When I return from submission for any wave, I continue holding my breath until I know that I will not be breathing in water. 

Stuck inside for three waves, I’ve watched surfers riding these double-overhead bombs, hooting and hollering for each other as they take the drop. Staring at the inbound surfer pumping towards me, he ducks under the hood. Lifting my camera for the shot, but I’m too deep and too late. 

The surfer zooms above me and the wave closes out, taking the wave straight to the head!

Tossing and turning, I didn’t get to dive deep, nor did I get to take a solid breath. The alphabet starts out of habit. I pull the camera close to my belly, so I do not bonk myself in the head. The underwater routine is habitual; darkness, chaos, light, then air. 

Shooting out of the water waist-high, just like the first wave. Looking for the next wave, I am glad to see I have time to move further outside. I lay on my back for two breaths, then begin kicking towards calm water. I need it. 

To my surprise, there is a surfer staring at me. “Hey man! You O-KAY?” He shouts to me patting the top of his head with a closed fist, the universal sign for “I’m okay.” I shoot him a smile, tap my head, and continue kicking out from the inside. 

At that moment, I don’t have to question why I am out there.

Nightly Journaling

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Crawling into bed she reaches over grabbing her journal and pencil. The bedside lamp shines its yellow glow upon the unlined paper. The page is blank, yet her mind is full of the day. Each night she slides under the covers, following the same routine. She asks herself five questions, recording her thoughts, then lays her head down to fall asleep. That routine has just begun. Tapping her eraser against the blank page she runs through her day. Then, she writes:

What did I learn today?

Today, I became aware of an insecurity I had not known existed inside of me. Out of no where the feeling bubbled inside me as I sat alone and watched the sun fall into the ocean. Without anyone to share this sunset with me…

Finishing the thought and taking a sip of water, she moves onto the next question.

How could I have been a better person?

Several times throughout the day, I wasn’t present. My mind wanders to the future. I wish I was closer to my dreams, but I know I am far off. Fear and jealousy creep in every time I allow my mind to wonder. Building anxiety that I can not control. When I am focused on the task at hand, I am fine. Tomorrow I shall continue following my compass, for if I look backwards, I have made significant progress. Why is this so hard?

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Laying on her back and propping her journal on a pillow, she starts to think about the third question. A question she has enjoyed asking herself these days.

Why did I get out of bed today?

Lately, I have been jumping out of bed before my alarm goes off. Even though I am exhausted, the most I have to do to wake up is to ask myself a simple question, “Are you going to waste this morning?” Then I am up. Today, I knew I had an opportunity to see…

As the tears of joy began surfacing and ran down her cheek with each blink, she works on the next question.

What was shared with me today? What did I share today?

Shared with me today was an abundance of love from family and friends. They smothered me with text messages. For that, I am exceedingly grateful! I should thank them tomorrow!

Today, I shared a few images on Instagram from a recent assignment in Joshua Tree National Park. The images are okay. I am happy that I shared them, but the edits were not as good as they should have been. They are a bit overexposed and don’t really tell a story.

Taking another sip of water, she sits up in bed and begins working on the last question.

How can I prioritize tomorrow to take a step closer to my ideal day?

I have been focused on creating work I am proud to share, but I have not been sharing it with this world except through IG. Tomorrow I will start sharing the work I am creating on a multitude of different platforms. My goal in this lifetime is to share the beauty of this world.

After a quick smiley-face doodle, she closes her notebook, and places it on the nightstand, turns off the light, slides under the cover, tucks a pillow between her arms and legs, and closes her eyes. Her mind is thankful she already knows what she needs to do tomorrow.

My Perfect Day: Late Morning

After the memory card fills with morning barrels or a dead camera battery, I swim to shore to exchange my camera for a surfboard. Getting back to the van, my partner is dancing to some of her favorite tunes and she makes her morning coffee. The way her smile touches her ears as she sips that mud water, releases a net-full of butterflies into my belly.

“Don’t you dare get me wet!” She looks at me with that petrified look because she knows I want to bear hug her. 

Disregarding her wish, I try to swoop her up. Fortunately for her, she is much faster than me as she runs down the beach with coffee in hand. Thinking to myself, Maybe I should learn to run? Nah. I don’t mind being the slow cat in pursuit. Heading back to the van, I grab my surfboard, sneak a few sips of her coffee, and run back to the waves.

Joining the boys in the water, we surfed a few barrels. At this point, our bodies are wrecked from the continual swell we are so excited to be along the Baja coast to enjoy. So, we mostly are talking and riding the occasional wave.

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“Last one in misses out on breakfast!” We hear the call from a buddies partner.

Thankful for their hard work to make a delicious breakfast, we start taking waves in. Running my hand through the water, I take my time selecting the wave I want to ride in for breakfast. The sun has risen to what I would guess to be roughly 9:30 am. Outside of the breaking waves, the ocean feels calm. There is a tranquillity that draws me to the ocean and surfing. This attraction has kept me coming to the waves for over 15 years. Sitting and breathing, I realize my time has come to catch a wave in.

“Well, Mr., nice of you to join us all for breakfast.” My sassy partner has that look in her eyes that tells me I should have come in a bit sooner. However, she also knows that those moments in the water alone are what make me, me. 

I quickly run over to the van, exchange my surfboard and 1mm shirt for sunglasses, my camera, and sunscreen. “Damn, where did you all get this spread?”

“It is just a little something we through together.” A buddies partner slyly says.

“BS! Where did you find oysters and tuna? Also, you made rice!” With a bewildered look on my face, I am excited to dive in. These are some of my favorite foods!

“We ran into a fisherman on the beach after you chased me and drank my coffee.”

My buddy nudging me, “You’re in trouble man!”

My eyes grow and I look around. We all start bursting into a laugh!

Enjoying breakfast, I wander around snapping different angles of this perfect picnic breakfast on the beach with friends. To myself, I whisper, “Gosh, how lucky am I? Great friends, endless waves, a sore body, a wonderfully playful-partner, and the ability to live my life photographing.”

If Tomorrow Was My Perfect Day: The Morning

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One of my favorite questions to ask while on a trail is, “Describe your perfect 24 hours.” Usually, I spring this upon my partner at an unfair time, a large uphill. I wanted to get into the nitty-gritty for what an ideal 24 hours would be for myself, so I figured I would share the day in blocks.

“Heyo! You ready to shred?” It is 4:45 AM and one of three buddies wakes me up with a few solid knocks on the van. 

“Woot! Woot!” I shout back.

The starry skies of the Baja blanket the beach we slept upon. The waves have been out of this world and our bodies are sore from the onslaught of surf sessions. The morning's goal, start surfing waves before the sun rises over the mountains. 

Crawling out of bed, I kiss my partner. She rolls over a bit annoyed but used to the routine. My contacts go in without any issues, a difficult task in the dark. My camera is already set up in its housing. I slide into my board shorts and put on my 1mm shirt. Grab an apple and plop some peanut butter on top for breakfast. Slipping out the door, I try to close it gently, but realistically I wake my partner from the slam of excitement. Sorry…

The morning light hasn’t started shining through yet, we are right on schedule. The guys look at me laughing. Two of the guys have a partner with them, the other is single. The single one says he prefers it that way. I am the last one out, so, naturally, the target for the morning jokes. In a round-robin format, they jab:

“Hey man, late-night huh?” Nudging his elbow into my ribs.

“Oh Mr. Cameraman, welcome to the party. Glad you could grace us with your presence.” He knows my pet peeve about cameramen slowing down a group!

“Awe, that is cute, she even made you breakfast…” to nobodies surprise, the last guy kills it with a bad joke!

“Are you all ready to catch some waves, or should I get a stage and microphone set up?”

Eating my apple, the sound of the break booms against the shore as our feet sink into the colder sand. Soon, the first light will shine down on us, so we must start paddling out soon. There is a channel to take us out. Since I am the slow photographer with fins and no board to paddle, I am the first one in the water. Dipping under empty barrels, unridden in the cloak of darkness, firing past me. Outside of the waves, the morning is silent. However, each time I dive deep to avoid a wave, my ears go from silence to having a 747 fly overhead then back to silence. The guys pass me by as I work to find an angle on the break in the dark.

My buddy who woke me up gives me a fist bump as he paddles by, “It’s going to be a good morning!”

Looking to land, the cacti are beginning to silhouette under the blue lighting. Soon we will be ripping barrels and getting sunburnt. Filling my memory card with empty barrels, I find my positioning. Throwing a shaky hang-loose to the guys, they send one back. It is time for the morning fun to start just as the yellow-orange sunlight fills the sky!

Unpacking a Lesson on Relationships

Inhale… Exhale… This is f$#@ed up! Inhale… Exhale… You got this, it’s only 4th class. Yet, the doubt creeps in and my heart rate spikes as I begin toeing in my left foot, pulling-up on that bomber right hand, stepping onto the high right foot, and all I have left to do is step up. The sloping talus field crumbles below into a blue-green lake, sitting around 11,500 feet, dwarfed by the surrounding mountains.

My first solo scramble in the Eastern Sierra took me by surprise. Blinded by my resume, believing I was on a simple jaunt to the top and back. RJ Sector describes 4th class as climbing a ladder with high consequences. How hard could that be? I mean, I have climbed much harder than that. I have experienced more exposure than that. I have climbed taller mountains. I have… I have… I have… 

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I have confidence.

Yet, lacking the compassion and the humility to sympathize for the mountain, I was there for myself. A “relationship" developed in my mind, not my heart. A little lie here and another one over there lead to the fixed belief that I understood and experienced the flow of the mountains. Hell, I had spent SO much time exploring, I got this! A perfect example of the lies I would tell myself, only this one I said as I crawled out of my van and headed up the trail.

A long tradition of building one-sided relationships strings together my life. Friendships, lovers, teammates, rope partners, and more were for me. Part of the reason I live out of a van and spend “alone-time” stems from my selfishness and impatience. I want to be in the mountains. I want to achieve these objectives. If nobody can come with I’ll just do it by myself. As I write this, emotional angst floods through me, for all I can see are those relationships that have fallen by the wayside. So, I protect myself with another lie, relationships come and go.

Since that day, I began listening. I began watching. I began unlearning. Now, I read through guidebooks and check trip reports, as if the mountains were another person on my social media feed. Spend time with mutual friends sharing photos, tales, and near misses from our recent interactions with these giants. Sometimes, the mountains and I do not see or talk for months, yet, random things make me recall memories of our time together. Developing this web of communication often feels as if the mountains and I are past lovers checking in on one another to see if the time is right to rekindle our relationship.

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It is true that relationships come and go, but only if you let them. Compassion, sympathy, and space allow growth needed to recognize and acknowledge that selfishness and impatience so that you may be present for the flow of the relationship. While effort, persistence, and dedication aid in maintaining our relationships.

Unscrewing the lid to the registry, I mumble, How cool is that?! This registry dates back to before I was born. Writing my name amongst our mutual friends, snapping a few images to share with those interested in seeing, and beginning to reverse those 4th class moves on my way back to the van, I’m thankful for the safe journey.

Mountain Classroom

Craving unstructured teachings, I submitted my application to The School of Hard Knocks and was rejected. Yes! I thought to myself, I must have gained admission. Quickly, however, I realized that was not my acceptance letter. Exploring this planet curiously, with my eyes open and my ears perked, I dreamt of becoming many things focused on rejecting the American Dream I grew up knowing. Yet, I never got away.

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A false summit in the Mount Mallory and Mount Irving grouping in the Eastern Sierra Mountains in California.

Living out of a tent, a car, and eventually upgrading to my current residence, The Princess—a dodge van—I realize I am no different from my peers who walked, instead of cartwheeling, across the stage to receive their diploma and a hand-shake from the university president. We all continued developing our craft, building and losing relationships, and dumbfounded by the steep learning-curve of patience.

Rome wasn’t built in a day. Life is a marathon, not a sprint. Be patient and you will get what you deserve. These mantras have rung in my ears from those who have worked hard for the last 20 years. Those who have a house, a car, a life-partner, two kids, and a dog. Those who have a 401(k), retirement plan, and two weeks paid vacation. Those whose complaints are not of survival, nor necessity, but of desire.

Awaiting my admission to The School of Hard Knocks, I remain wide-eyed and listening curiously to the world. Thankfully, I’ve dipped my toes in the alpine lakes of the mountain amphitheater, where my teacher patently guides me through her lessons of continual unlearning.