We have entered the matrix of the winding and wonderful desert plateau, sun baked and full of energy, one with the earth and one with each other. We are sun kissed and scorched as we cross over, through the doors of perception.
And into the desert we drove..
Up before the sun, eager to explore Petra before the swarming crowds and before the blistering heat weighed down upon us with heavy hands. Camelbaks full with water and snacks, we made our way to the gates. Arriving early was a smart move, only a handful of people were as eager to get up so early.
Köprülü Canyon & The Turquoise Coast
Some days we have to get away from being away. Put our anxious thoughts behind us as we cruise out of sight and let the miles unravel, racking up the odometer. As the distance increases our minds revert to inner peace. It’s just the way we are wired together: infinite adventure, infinitely craving the raw, new feel of everything around us.
Throughout our world Nature delights us with its unique gems. When we find them we are in awe; soaking in the breathtaking wonders of this incredible Earth. Idaho has shown us much beauty along the Salmon and Payette Rivers as natural Hot Springs emanate from underground.
Adventure awaits in the Sawtooth Wilderness. From the towering, craggy peaks blanketed with thick layers of snow and ice, to the swift whitewater of the River Of No Return, an abundance of excitement is an understatement. The naturist spirit cannot be undersold here; it beckons and bleeds with brave enthusiasm.
Shadowy openings lure us in.
A world beneath.
Caves are the veins of the earth.
Living, breathing interior.
A majestic centerpiece rises up from the Earth to greet the confluence of two beautiful rivers, the Green and the Yampa. Steamboat Rock an ethereal experience in the high desert of Northwestern Colorado. A hidden oasis protected and hidden from the masses. A quiet, sacred place of awe inspiring beauty.
From the Rockies to the Sierras, the Cascades and back, we consistently have an innate desire to seek out mountains. We have made countless loops around the United States, from the interior to the coast, and back again. We haven’t, however had the chance to see Mount Saint Helens on any of our routes, at least not until now. The volcanic mountains in the Cascades paint an impressive picture of our endlessly shaping world.
Early Winter Spires and Liberty Bell Mountain in North Cascades National Park
Taller than the redwood trees
Whistling wonders through whispering leaves
Those who travel go for adventure, the allure of something new, different; a change of pace from the ordinary. We seek out the beauty of nature and the raw cultural shift from place to place. Always on an inner quest of love and light. To experience and be apart of something foreign for a lapse of time. Many however, overlook and undermine a mirror image face of reality when coagulated by a self serving sanctum. Refusing to look at refuse. Turning away from the endless true nature of the ordinary man in the industrial era.
The Yucatan Peninsula has so much to offer for the avid wanderer. While most will come to rejoice the pristine, white sand beaches along the Riviera Maya from the Cancun Hotel Zone to Playa Del Carmen, we took a different path that for us meant something beyond the facade. Our sights were set on a more cultural experience through history, geography and gastronomic adventures. From the airport we quickly made our way down to Tulum, a 90 minute drive from the Cancún International Airport.
A colorful culture awaits in Tulum, Mexico. The geology is unique in itself with amazing cenotes, the jungle and wildlife. But it is also very rich in history, dating back to an ancient civilization of the Mayan peoples.
We spent our time here doing a bit of everything, but mostly enamored with the numerous Cenotes. A Cenote is a natural pit or sinkhole, resulting from the collapse of limestone bedrock that exposes underground water beneath.
For as much as I love the snow, mountains, cold and adventure, I have never truly been able to learn how to ski until this winter. Growing up East side I was never presented the opportunity nor had the “push” to try out winter sports. Thanks to the experience living in Winter Park, Colorado we have found a new love for the outdoors and snow that we otherwise never knew.
* Truck Camper Renovation Update!*
– Click Below for a detailed layout of our full off-grid electrical setup, including harnessing Solar Power and wiring a Split-Charge System!
For the last few years Tyema and I have been criss-crossing the United States, making uncountable laps through our Nation’s most breathtaking scenery.
Simple ways we are helping the environment & ways YOU can also help the environment.
This is our first winter in our beautiful home state Colorado. Rather than traveling somewhere warm or abroad, we dedicated this winter to learning and playing in the snow. The vibe of a ski mountain town is so relaxed and we’re so grateful for this experience. Stepping out into the frosted air each morning makes us giddy and excited for each day.
My soul seeks asylum, my mind clarity.
Before this great big temple of ice.
In its presence eye am shown
My past, present and future.
Eye am shown, the beauty, the divine, the inevitability of dwindle and decay.
That nothing gold can stay.
Iceland has an incredible wealth of beauty tucked behind every mountain, fjord, and lava field. It is impossible to see everything in one day, and unreasonable to try. Making the most of our Icelandic Adventure Honeymoon, Tyema and I continue to rack up the miles, venturing further and further from our cabin on the Skorradsalvatn every chance we get. This way and that, back and forth across the country, once, twice and over again. Scouting out our next move we decided to take the long drive north to explore more remote areas and experience the Icelandic capital of the north, Akureyri.
Within an hours drive we began to climb up and into the highlands. Light rain turned to sleet then snow. We watched the temperature steadily drop and the windows start to fog. Traffic became less frequent, speed cameras few and far between. Seemingly endless expanses of farmland, fat balls of wool dotting the landscape. And then unexpectedly we begin to climb again in between the narrow gauge valleys of breathtaking mountains. Thicker snow blanketing rolling and jagged peaks. Series of crystal blue waterfalls gushing in abundance.
The enchantment of Iceland grew tremendously as our days progressed and we traveled further from our home base in Borgarnes. This next section of our Icelandic Adventure Honeymoon will focus entirely on the South, a section of Iceland that most will be more familiar with, due to its relative close proximity to Reykjavík. Of this area there are incredibly dramatic changes in the landscape that are unparalleled to any other place in the world. From our cabin, again we begin by looking out to the Northeast at Langjökull, the second largest glacier in Iceland. We have followed the Hvítá River West, down into Borgarfjörður, but now it is time to follow its main arterial vain South along the Golden Circle and down to the North Atlantic.
Langjökull is undeniably the main contributing factor to the wondrous sights of the Golden Circle. Gullfoss, Iceland’s most notable waterfall in the Southern region, would not be possible without the continual melt from the glacier. It is a beacon of an ever-changing environment; it is a reminder of the causal effect of man in Nature and the inevitability of its fate. The sheer magnitude of this waterfall, cascading in two stages equivalent of 105 feet, was so great that we felt fixed, frozen in time while staring out at its majestic beauty. The roar of the water deafening. Eyes glazed, jackets drenched with mist. Pushing through the throngs of people glued behind cellphone and camera lights to get a more apt vantage.
Home is among the towering pines, jagged, snow-capped mountains and sulphur plumes of geothermic activity. I feel at home in the land of fire and ice. The common expression of a tree-less, leafless, barren expanse is thwarted every day as I look out our dining room windows. Towering conifers border the cabin, shrouded in the early morning dew, wet and dripping onto volcanic soil. The birch like wildfire, red berries clinging to dormant branches, growing in clusters from the porch to the Skorradalsvatn. We nestle here for a month, embracing our love as we embrace this intensely dynamic country. This cabin has been our solace in between long and unending drives. 5000 kilometers in two weeks time and we have yet to see a fraction of this magnificent place. Still, in all the beauty we have seen thus far, West Iceland has a special place in my heart.
Located fifteen minutes southeast of Borgarnes, on the northern lowlands of the Skarðsheiði mountain range we plan our days with excitement and adoration of this majestic land. We start slow, right in our front yard and expand outward as our days progress. Trying to understand the mountains, follow the rivers and waterways that lead to Borgarfjörður and Þingvallavtn, we trace the landscape out to Langjökull, the second largest glacier in Iceland that straddle the Western and Southern region. We took the drive up 550 and then turned onto the pothole-riddled, snow patched 551 road toward the base camp. As we steadily navigated the road, grinding misjudged gears, the wind rolled off of the icecap, gusts tearing through the warmth of our jackets. Snow, thrust across the sun drenched sky, sent rainbows swirling about, dancing around the mountains.
All day long, getting myself ready I was calm and collected. The day couldn’t have started more beautifully, waking up with you by my side, enjoying a nice breakfast then parting ways with an “I love you.”
We slowly crept along the Grand Gulch, thick chunks of rock, broken debris crushing under the weight of the wheels. Zigzagging back and forth across intersecting veins of the Grand Wash. Mangled, sun scorched logs and limbs lay displaced, waiting for the next thunderstorm to sweep them down into the Fremont, the Dirty Devil and into Lake Powell – by that time splintered and fragmented. In the washes and up on the banks their ancestors scatter, turned over through time, transformed, petrified into ancient fossils. An eerie relief walking through the desert to see time unraveled in front of our eyes. This barren desert, eroding rock and deepening canyons once a paradise filled with life and vegetation. We walk and drive on a crumbled, silent graveyard.
There are hidden worlds in everything.
We open the doors, opening ourselves.
To the beauty that sits quietly, vibrating loudly.
We sink our weary limbs far beneath the surface.
Of life. Of love. Of time.
We fold gently like ripples, we quiver, we break.
Converging as one, one flow, one love.
Mystic as the waters
We all know the saying, “life is short” and it definitely does seem like time passes us by so quickly. Rather than focusing on the brevity of time, we believe in the importance of how we choose to spend our time. Are we doing what makes us happy? Do we feel fulfilled with our life choices?
Our first time arriving in Pagosa Springs, we were completely spirited away. The word “Pagosah” meaning healing waters in Southern Ute, is home of the world’s deepest hot springs. We were completely oblivious to all of the splendors of this beautiful area, our only focus was the piece of land that was purchased, the land that would become our home. Upon arriving, our souls were lifted from the small town feel. We followed the main road passing alongside the San Juan river as it flowed exuberantly through the center of town. Winding its way to the main attraction, the series of pools that have been built up and filtered from the mother source. Their crystal clear waters glistening in the sunlight, steam rising into the cool mountain air. The historical bathhouse rising up over the river, the stunning views of the San Juan Mountains rising up over the valley in a full panorama. We knew in the depths of our hearts that this was it, this was home.
There is magic hidden in the desert oasis. The Henries faded in the rear view mirror, an isolated mountain range as tall as 11,522 ft, towering over the lower desert plateau. A network of deep rutted canyons and winding washes, carved scars on the desert surface, zigzagging their way down to the very edges of the Waterpocket Fold, around and down feeding into Lake Powell.
We have been working in the beautiful state of Utah this past month, exploring around Lake Powell and Glen Canyon National Recreation Area. This experience has opened our eyes to the hidden beauty of the desert, from the incredibly carved slot canyons, to the towering mesas and buttes. But our heartstrings will always be pulled back to the mountains. After a full week of work and a five hour drive we arrived, home sweet home. Our exhaustion faded the minute we reached our county road and began the 7.4 mile ascent up the mountain. Our eyes lit up at the foliage, evergreen for as far as the eye could see. We turned down our dead end lane, smiling ecstatically at our creation, our home. Starting from an untouched parcel of land, cleared of the dead brush, leveled for a house, all the while living in the back of a truck. Built up, touched with love, to settling in and for the first time feeling comfortable in a place. A feeling we have never felt before. The lifestyle we choose, constantly, on the move teaches us to appreciate the simple comforts we have when we do come home. The quiet of the mountain makes us feel like we have the wilderness all to ourselves. Our only neighbors being the abundance of wildlife that roam these lands.