#0984_12 - Santa Cruz, California, May of 2026.
School let out May the 29th and we took off Southbound through Santa Cruz for a night to visit a friend with a new baby, then down the coast to Pebble Beach to see some old friends. We cut out early the following morning for Mexico, driving straight through all day and made Baja by 8 o’clock. We spent three days on the beach doing very little, reading and napping and playing board games and it was a proper break. We started back North on a Friday to San Diego and crashed at a friends place for a night, then on to Pasadena for a spell to see family before heading back North to The City. (1,254 miles.)
#0983_07A-08A - Baja California, Mexico, June of 2026.
#0984_36 - Eel River, Mendocino, California, June of 2026.
We took a short camping trip to Mendocino mid June with a rather eclectic and decidedly random group of folks that included a bio-tech exec, a stoner who can count cards into a 4 deck shuffle, an ex-con (murder 1) and two incredibly obnoxious 7 year old boys (one mine) among others. The entire affair worked out remarkably well largely due to the amount of good food and good bourbon consumed. (434 miles.)
The long 4th of July weekend we took off for Truckee with some old dear friends. This was a success solely due to the fact that we did not leave the house the entire time, as the greater Tahoe area during holiday weekends is a complete and total shit show. It took us 7 and half hours to get home. It should have taken three. (374 miles.)
Mid July we spent the weekend in Mariposa as we often do. It was punishingly hot and we did very little. On our way out of town we paid a visit to a friend, Farmer Sean, who keeps goats, chickens etc., for no reason other than he and his partner love animals. They’re good people, expats from San Francisco. They started out with six goats and were at some point given a male goat, whom they were slow to castrate. They now have 32 goats. (347 miles.)
#0985_11A - Wren with a goat, Mariposa, California, July of 2026.
At the end of July we went North, passing through Eugene, Oregon for a night before heading up to Portland. We spent a stupid amount of money at Powell’s Books and pushed North the next day through Seattle, stopping at the flagship REI store where another stupid amount of money was spent. We caught the ferry that afternoon in Anacortes, two hours North of Seattle, and were in the San Juan Islands for supper.
#0986_08 - Orcas Island Ferry, San Juan Islands, Washington, July of 2026
We stayed in a lovely home on Orcas Island, it was small and simple and open, filled with books and art and beautiful objects. It also contained almost no plastic, a clear choice, though it did have a six-thousand dollar stereo system and a four-hundred dollar coffee maker and this leaves me with questions. Either way we spent 5 wonderfully quiet days relaxing on the Island before packing up and heading South again. (917 miles.)
#0986_16 - Orcas Island, Washington, July of 2026.
We caught the late ferry and pushed South through terrible traffic in Seattle and Portland, then turned South East, reaching a little place we’d rented near Cougar Reservoir in Oregon around 1 o’clock in the morning. A beautiful log cabin on the McKenzie River, it was quite comfortable but unfortunately decorated by someone who shops exclusively at Bass Pro Shops. (473 miles.)
#0987_18A - McKenzie River, Oregon, July of 2026.
#0987_22A - Wildfire Damage, Oregon, July of 2026.
There’s a spot nearby known locally as Cougar Hot Springs I first visited over 25 years ago in the summer of 1999 on my way from Detroit to San Francisco. A natural hot spring, left largely untouched, the water cascades down into progressively cooler pools, it’s always been special to me and for many years I’d visit annually, though I’d not been back since my son was born. It was much the same, with decidedly fewer misfits and weirdos and the scars of a wildfire that ripped through the valley some years ago are still quite visible. We had a good soak and a big early dinner and headed out first thing the next morning.
We cut East toward the coast, picking up Hwy 101 South, stopping at a hotel in Eureka for the night that was filled almost entirely with bikers. I had a drink with a few of them in the hot tub, they were friendly folks. We made an early start the next day and were in San Francisco by dinner. (628 miles.)
#0988_08 - At the River, The Lair of the Golden Bear, August of 2026.
The second week of August I found myself at The Lair of The Golden Bear, a family camp in the Sierra Nevada’s near Yosemite for UC Berkeley alumni. When I was a younger man, I could not have imagined any circumstances, nor trajectory my life could take, that would lead me to this place, and yet there I was. At The Lair of The Golden Bear.
One night around 11 o’clock I laid on top of the picnic table in our camp, watching the beginnings of the Perseids meteor shower and dozing off slightly. I had put on some headphones and queued up something benign that I could ignore while star gazing. It was not lost on me, city boy that I am, that wearing noise cancelling headphones in bear country after dark, after multiple sightings throughout the week, was not the wisest of choices. But alas, I am a city boy, who was at least three bourbons in that night, so I ignored the thought entirely. Not ten minutes later, after a particularly bright shooting star cut across the sky, a shadow crossed my periphery, and turning slightly I was confronted by a full grown black bear not three feet away nonchalantly sniffing around our camp.
#0988_24 - Thomas and Charlie, The Lair of the Golden Bear, August of 2026.
I say this with complete confidence and no embellishment that I am both impressed and surprised by my response to the bear, as it is one of the few events in my life that I can confidently say I handled entirely appropriately and without hesitation or regret. Wether it was adrenaline or bourbon or some combination of the two I sprung up immediately, yelling at full volume, directly at the bear “Get out bear!” and flailing my arms wildly like the half drunk, half asleep city boy that I was. I grabbed the flashlight next to me and turned it on the beast. I’d startled him enough that he began to run, and I followed him down the path yelling and clapping until I lost sight of him in the brush. My wife and son, not 15 feet away from the altercation, both remained soundly asleep.
In the morning I told them both how I had fought off a giant bear in the dark of night to keep them both safe. They were appreciative, though they did not actually believe me. The remainder of our stay was uneventful. (320 miles.)
The road is different now, less romantic, more logistic. No motor lodges and cheap diners. Hotels are booked long in advance with points and rewards, campsites secured months ahead with an app, meals largely determined by Yelp ratings. There is little opportunity to get lost, and yet there is still something to be said for being away and on the road and I will always love it.
It’s October 1st, the Autumnal Equinox has passed and the weather has started to turn just a little. All told I put about 4,000 miles behind me and now I’m tired. It was a good summer.
Prints available upon request.
Things I’ve been reading lately…
The Four TV Shows That Heralded America’s Fall
Any list of great artworks presents a portrait of the era that produced them — in this case, the prestreaming era 20 years ago when cable channels like HBO and AMC ruled the dial…
I went to a Parisian dinner party yesterday. Here's what I noticed.
A woman arrived later in an outfit that should have been too much for a Tuesday dinner and immediately made us feel underdressed. She ate the most and spoke the least. Most interesting person there.
In Defense of the Detour
On craft, A.I. and what gets lost when we skip the slow part.