I'm trying to find time in the midst of this busy season to process a recent solo trip into the Point Reyes backcountry (and front country, I guess, considering I drove all over the desolate bluffs from one end to the other as well as hiked into the woods).  I came to the realization that if I don’t write and post pictures, well, now, it will never happen.  I also came to the realization that this trip is just the beginning of many more like this, I hope.  Time to be in nature, journal my heart out, question everything and answer nothing, write, hike, climb trees and jaggy seashore rock outcroppings, make pictures, cry, smile, be silent, scream at the top of my lungs, rat my hair in a windows-rolled-down-all-the-way euphoria, drink a lot of whiskey, drench myself in solitude and serenity and thick seashore fog and of course attract a few bug bites and a little stinging nettle.  And, for the record, stinging nettle really does sting. 

It was a weekend full of ‘soul-ness’; of searching inner depths and choosing not to make excuses for anything; of solitude bordering on solitary; aloneness dancing with loneliness.  Which of course makes total sense that my entire 48hrs was riddled with dense fog and no light.  Because Light. Changes. Everything.  Fog leaves things flat and dull and without tangible shape or form. It makes sense that what I needed was to dance with that.  To feel heavy and wet and not be able to focus on anything while at the same time feel completely peaceful and motivated and inspired and so far out of the box that no one would even bother looking for me there anymore.  A journey of trying not to die on the crumbling edge of a seaside cliff while at the exact same moment feeling ridiculously alive.  This was it.  This was all of it.  

And it knocked the wind out of me.  

And put it under my wings so I could fly.



I wish I could say this was a photographic gem of a trip for me, but sadly, no.  It appears that I’m slightly out of practice with this camera thing and that my psyche was craving balance and symmetry and teetering on loneliness, because that’s what this lens saw.  And unfortunately on this trip, my photo making skills were reduced to simplistic landscapes.  The stuff of calendars.  So, if boring, muted, slightly creepy renditions of landscape calendars are your jam, keep scrolling.