Articles

The three grizzlies and a dozen wolves across the meadow and up the side of the hill were far too busy feasting on a rancid buffalo carcass to worry about me.

I’ll happily lose sleep chasing the Milky Way with my camera, because honestly, what else is worth stumbling around half-awake for the next day?

Uncovering ghost towns, sacred sunsets, and a dog who still shows up when it matters most. Sunset from 'Caiya's Spot', Leadville, CO. The...

Once a Love-Ridge, Always a Loveridge My last name is Loveridge, which implies that somewhere in the mists of genealogy, an ancestor...

Thenkoo, Come Again? (Big Springs. Big Exit.) Leslie and I stood ankle-deep in the river, staring across the canyon with the kind of...

Above the Tree Line, Beneath the Surface Sometimes the view that changes you isn’t the one from the top. Before we jump into the guide,...

You think you're buying a van. What you're actually doing is joining a shiny cult of aluminum dreamers who believe in spreadsheets, scenic overlooks, and the healing power of a well-timed squatch sighting.

It started with a hike, some trail mix, and a dog named Caiya. It ended with reverence, quicksand, and a strong suspicion that God is really into slot canyons.

Turns out all it takes to fall in love with cliff dwellings is a Scooby-Doo sleeping bag, a burnt potato, and a Moab rainstorm.