Blog

There are a lot of Earth Day posts out there but I’ll bet that few of them revolve around a 100 year-old man’s dresser drawer. Several years ago I was honored to spend an afternoon interviewing 100 year-old Julian Nelson, a prime figure in the creation of the Apostle...

(paintings by Margaret Florence Ludwig) THIS LAND OF LIGHT: An Artist in the Midnight Sun To see the world like an artist, spend time with artists. Years ago, I was asked to contribute a chapter to a National Geographic Society book on the national parks of Canada. I...

FOG VISION: Some questions only become clear when you are lost in the fog There is nothing to do but watch. Like an avalanche of clouds, the fogbank spills off the peaks of the Brooks Range and swallows us, cutting off the horizons as surely as a shroud. Moments ago,...

The light in the canyon at this hour makes the river flow like braided strands of the morning sky. It is early, too early, and I am up and sitting at the edge of the river watching. Behind me, the canoes are pulled far up on shore and turned over; in the dim light...

The Lost Arch: Guidebooks are fine but the best directions come scribbled on a napkin There were, by my count, 27 different hikes listed on the trail brochure the ranger had given me. The shelves of the park visitor center were crammed with guidebooks spelling out...

(Photo of the author “flying” by Ken Kochey) We all have them: dreams of flying untethered to the earth, spreading our miraculous suddenly-sprouted wings to soar as gracefully as a bird, rising weightlessly on a puff of wind to escape our earthbound selves. And then,...

A Photographic Moment: Dancing with the Devil Let me just say right from the outset here that none of what follows was my idea. But then, I didn’t say “no” either. January of 2017 in northern Wisconsin had all the teeth of a normal northern winter – storms, wind,...

Being a writer is not always about the landscape. Sometimes, the greatest thing about it is the people you meet. How often, for instance, do you get to meet a legend? I was on assignment for my book TREASURES OF ALASKA, trying to arrange a helicopter to take me up to...

In the face of something as beautiful, as powerful, and ultimately as unknowable as Lake Superior, sometimes the only place to turn is poetry: THE SINGING SOMETIMES, I HEAR SINGING. EARLY IN THE MORNING WHEN THE MIST LIFTS AND WISPS ITS WAY ACROSS THE BLUE-BLACK BACK...

Before the wildflowers bloom, before the return of the first robin, the first signs of spring can be heard in something as simple as the song of a flowing river. Nothing. Not a chickadee. Not a woodpecker. No wind through the trees. Nothing. It is March and the forest...