Travel and culture
On a recent evening, H and I were walking home late from a night out. Walking home late — from a bar at our nearest square, the T station, a friend’s house, it doesn’t matter — on a winter evening means we were walking on cracked gray sidewalk, swaddled in jackets, gloved hands shoved in pockets, shoulders… Continue reading Drab: New England Winter Chic
“We’re from Minnnn-eh-sOOOHta,” a woman explains. “It’s our third time. We love it here.” She looks like an experienced visitor: her sunhat and lurid, shoulder-covering mumu speak of one-too-many sunburns splashing across the pale expanses of her skin. She takes half a step towards her acquaintance, a younger Black man in a billowy white t-shirt.… Continue reading It Ends A The Water’s Edge
Early in the spring, H and I spent some time on the coast in northern Oregon. We did this every so often during our time in Seattle, and especially during the pandemic. We’d sneak our names onto the schedule and avail ourselves of the famous beach cabin. We’d drive down in the night, bringing work… Continue reading Take A Moment On The Oregon Coast
Robber barons, immigrant communities and native burial practices — it's all here.
A self portrait in the stripped-out shadow of Mount St. Helens.
A slice of life in the Washington Cascades: mountains, elk, heaven-sent convenience stores and "worship centres" masquerading as churches. After a long climb into the mountains from the east, I spent a day and two nights loitering around Randle and sleeping behind the local Methodist church, recharging for the ride to Mount St. Helens.
Everything you need to know about planning your route for your first big bicycle tour.
The seedy and the sublime on the banks of the Columbia River, in Washington state. Central Washington is a dry and dusty plain, but these rivers are like living tunnels hidden below the horizon.
In southern B.C. I was so busy worrying about bears and cougars that I was caught totally off guard by the little guy pictured below, who (I think) is harmless. I found him near a campsite down by the Similkameen River (pictured above), and after we scared the living daylights out of one another I groaned with dismay as I watched him slither into the bush where I’d left my bike.
On my second day out from Vancouver I met my first fellow cycle tourists: Josh, Jarney and Jay. They had already spent weeks cycling across prairies and over mountain ranges from Saskatoon, and I was impressed by how comfortably ragged they looked on their bikes.