“There aint language for the things I feel . . .”

Lord Huron, “Love Like Ghosts”

I probably misheard that lyric, and it’s also very out of context with the rest of the lyrics of that song. But it stuck in my mind. It’s a thought I’ve had often, as I look out on the views from the backcountry.

I came out west with little to my name. A couple of film cameras and a worn out second hand back pack. I didn’t have a plan. All I knew was I needed to make a change and I was making it. It turned out to be the best thing I ever did.

After some neglect, I’ve decided this site will become an overview of sorts, a place where all of my harebrained schemes are accessible