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  • shout out to mother nature for not curb stomping any of us too hard  this week, and to all the fun spirited and hardworking folks who leaned into the Icelandic winds to help pull off another fine shoot; grateful for each day I get to stick my face behind a camera and call it work and for the good people who help make it all happen 🤙🙌 @elliotstudio @jackschow @jasonwangstudio @tracee_alvord @hlynurhelgi @theempireexpeditions @heidinymark @maurawar @lumpyspaceprincess @becclane @annie.mick @sigruneva @philippe_leblond @meganschaut @magnusmab @kereesmith @arcticsurfers
  • Some roads hate forks, some forks hate roads. Fortunately most of them mind their own business and proceed in a functional manner. #takemenowhere #knifeintheroad
  • Feral wookie tracking. This was a minor tracking distraction midway through my run today that paid off when I later had to track idiotself back up the mountain over ice, snow and tundra (turns out I am wilier than I knew) looking for my handcomputer after it bounced out of my chest pocket while I went off piste trying to find the plumb line of descent and galloping like an agitated antelope. Needless to say I failed at anteloping as I am but a mere man with a strange breast augmentation pack by @salomonrunning that allows me to nurse myself but does not really provide much in the way of cell phone security features for people pretending to be animals.
  • Return to the land of ye’olde instabangerang
  • I don’t care what you dream of doing, I care what you do; that said I do hope that you dream still too #flightythoughtsoverhogfarms #fireswamp
  • Daydreams swinging into night schemes last night, a final push into the blue. Twined ropes through tulip poplars, beams bolstered and balanced on the strong backs of friends, cold rain bodies warmed by old fires, woodward reserve and lingering laughs. The beginnings of what always would be; a return to the back of Beyond. With love and thanks for all who have encouraged and dreamed alongside through the last year(s), and more recently sweated and bled, clambered and mucked, worked hard and laughed light, giving graciously of time, perspective, wisdom, and the copious amounts of psyche needed for such acts of levitation @canyonwoodward @max.lowe @canopycrew @d.parker.woodwork @donedoer @isabellacowgirl @chrishenks @francoislebeau @kesharis @mattdanzico, the folks, the sibs, Jeff Berman, Ralph Morgan and the do-it bird #backofbeyonders #yondercrew #treelove
  • Old ripples
  • Woodland lines
  • Soul-glide, nature’s new anti-anythingbad balm ™
  • Always good catching up with the usual suspects and seeing fresh faces, eyes, minds coming together at the OR show. So many folks doing important work beyond selling jackets and shoes, using their platforms as athletes/storytellers/brands to try and encourage and support dialogue and action around stewardship and social responsibility in the outdoor industry - and the world at large. Someone onetime said something along the lines of “with great privilege comes great responsibility” and I often feel working and playing in this industry, that privilege is omnipresent. To see it coupled with a growing sense of responsibility is pretty damn exciting. Good things to come, see you all down the trail.
  • Deep freeze in the high country of NC is unusual, but the view of this guy’s backside disappearing over a hill in front of me is becoming pretty familiar 🏃/⛄️@canyonwoodward
  • High noon on the summit of Clingman’s Dome, Great Smoky Mountains National Park. At 6,643 ft, Clingman’s marks the highest point in the busiest National Park in the country (twice as many visitors annually as Grand Canyon). Yesterday as I ran, scrambled, shuffled and shambled along the 26 miles of trail up from Deep Creek, I found myself alone save for a curious squirrel and the loping tracks of a coyote or red wolf. Not a soul for miles. Silence (or as near to it as I know) save for the crunch of foot to snow, the occasional sigh of the wildling winds. I didn’t think about much. I listened to some music and podcasts. The War on Drugs and Krista Tippett. I wondered why I didn’t bring more snacks. I drank a crushed bag of dill pickle potato chips and later scraped the soggy crumbs from my hip pocket. It was better that you weren’t there. I wished to find water soon. Occasionally I stopped to admire something curious in the forest; more often to contemplate discomfort in various parts of my body. I ate the last of my food and with now cold fingers pulled my phone out to snap this photo before turning back the way I came. Hours passed, snow turned to sun and ice to mud, and I returned to where I began. I had found none of the answers, only more questions. In that I was content. Somewhere between here and there I wished the best for all of us, the wolf, and you and me, and though I knew not what it was, I promised I would ask. And ask and ask and ask. I promised I would listen. Listen, listen, listen. To the wind the earth, the sun the stream; to the you the her the he the we. I may have suffered dehydration, and with it some illusions, but speak the world your truths and with them break delusions. I believe in you, I believe in we, and I believe in soggy dill pickle potato chips. Onwards with love.