Travel Writer of the Year

Good news: I've been named 2016 Travel Writer of the Year by the Society of American Travel Writers Foundation. Which is pretty cool. Actually, they call it Travel Journalist of the Year, but even though I sometimes do journalist-y things, I like to imagine I'm more writer than reporter. Humor me, okay?

The judges, professors from the esteemed Missouri School of Journalism, said this about my work: "His stories are expertly crafted to capture the tension and the scenes. His readers ride with him. His stories are narratives with character, tension and resolution."

Thanks guys. I work hard on my stories to do just that. And publishers take note — readers want stories with personality and verve. They want to hear the writer's voice. They want to be transported and be in the story as they read.

Big thanks to Sierra, National Geographic Adventure, National Geographic Traveler, Adventure Cyclist, SUP, and The Clymb for giving me the platforms to tell the stories that won this award. A special shout-out to Sierra for their partnership the last few years and for the great editors I work with there, with a special nod to Reed McManus, who skillfully edited my stories on dancing with wolves in Glacier Park and climate change's affect on skiing shortly before passing away of a heart attack in early January. His untimely departure is a reminder for all of us to enjoy our lives while we're here. Let's get out there, have fun, help people whenever possible, and explore this amazing world while we're able.

Here are some of the stories that won me travel writing's highest honor.

"The Wildest Valley," Sierra magazine, Nov/Dec 2015

"Circling the Volcanoes, One Family Circumnavigates Nicaragua's Ometepe by Bike," Adventure Cyclist, May 2015

"North of the Border, A Family Explore Alberta by SUP," SUP the Mag, Summer 2015

"How to Become an Outdoor Writer and Photographer," The Clymb blog

"Worlds Most Unexpected Ski Areas," National Geographic Adventure

Lastly, you may have noticed, or maybe you didn't, ahem, that this blog has gone fallow. With the uninspiring Blogger design and fact that I'm busy with paying work, I wouldn't expect it to come alive with new posts anytime soon. If I do get inspired to write something without a paycheck (seriously, I spend enough time sweating blood at my desk as it is, and I'm also working on a book, which pays squat for the time being), it will probably be at Medium where I can make things more engaging and prettier. 

In the meantime, feel free to follow my professional page on Facebook and turn notifications on so you don't miss it when I post images like this, from my upcoming story on grizzly bears. And, yeah, my camera now has teeth marks on it.

Finding Kishenehn

November’s wan light drained from the sky as I walked alone into a forgotten corner of Glacier National Park. As night grew from the shadows, noises in the forest grew louder. My head jerked at the sound of a branch brushing my pants. A foot of fresh snow obscured the tracks of an oversized carnivore on the trail that led me into dark timber. Everywhere was blackness, the world reduced to my headlamp’s bobbing orb of light. It seemed inevitable it would suddenly be filled by some variety of toothy creature.

I checked the pepper spray canister in my pack’s side pocket. Then I remembered the propellant in pepper spray doesn't work in temperatures below freezing. It was 20 degrees.

"Well, this is exciting," I thought to myself.

One family goes big

High in a remote corner of the Swan Valley we roll around a bend in the trail — 11-year-old Silas, 7-year-old Jonah, and me on one colossal mountain bike we call the Teasdale Train — when suddenly it’s there, not more than 30 feet away: a grizzly bear on its hind legs. I grab the brake levers of our rolling 200-pound behemoth and, in a motion practiced countless times, whip bear spray out of my pack’s side pocket the instant my feet hit the ground. As the boys would later revel in telling friends and family members, “Then dad said the ‘S’ word!”

The bear, it turns out, is tiny — which is even scarier than being huge. As the kids stare wide-eyed at the bruin, I twist my neck from side to side and scan the greenery for sound or movement. There is only one electric thought in my mind: Where’s mom?

What the Mountains Give

We didn't know we'd encounter two bears in a matter of hours, but Greg Fortin and I knew we were in for an adventure when we started pedaling away from Glacier Park's Avalanche Campground parking lot at 8:20 last Friday night. It was an absurdly late time to head into Glacier's bear-riddled backcountry, but, as a smiling old man once said to me when he saw me bicycle touring in a rainstorm, "You go when you can."

We only had 48 hours before backcountry permit officials, concerned we'd interfere with road crews plowing record snow off Going To The Sun Road, insisted we be back. The road crews might have been miserable, but we weren't going to let that magnificent, once in a lifetime June snowpack go to waste. We were going to ski. With tent, sleeping bags, skis, and food for two days in our bike trailers, we set off for the mountains.

Five minutes later an enormous, glistening scat pile appeared in the road. Seconds later came the bear. Neither of us noticed it until the moment we passed it, standing on its hind legs and staring at us intensely not 20 feet to my right.

Winter descends on Kishenehn, Glacier Park's lost corner

Deep in the far northwest corner of Glacier National Park, wedged between the Canadian border and the North Fork of the Flathead River, sits a pocket of rarely visited wild country known as Kishenehn. If you look at a park map you will see no official trails here, though old maps will reveal a forgotten ranger station a few miles from the Canadian border. There used to be an old Kootenai Indian trail along Kishenehn Creek, and in later years a narrow dirt road followed the river, but they, like everything else in this wilderness, were eventually abandoned and lost to the forest.

The old ranger station is still used by the occasional researcher or ranger who come here to examine the wildlife and ancient forests. My friend Ben goes there too. Every fall he's stationed at the cabin for several weeks to keep an eye out for poachers (hunting isn't allowed in the park). So Ben gets to hike around and watch for anyone with a rifle who might ford the river. He hasn't seen any hunters yet, but he's seen wolves run by the cabin and grizzly bears standing atop freshly killed elk. It's wild in there.

Naturally, I join him whenever I can.

Cooke City, Montana: of beetles, trees, and skiing.

Headed over to Cooke City, Montana a few days ago on assignment for Backcountry magazine to ski with Jesse Logan, a backcountry-skiing entomologist who is studying mountain pine beetles and their devastating impact on whitebark pine trees. WBPs are beautiful, often ancient trees that grow in the high mountains of the Northern Rockies, Sierras, and Cascades. Their nuts are a critical food source for grizzly bears and other mountain wildlife, while the trees themselves are vital for backcountry skiers. Not only does their wide spacing allow for excellent tree skiing, but they provide "safe zones" on steep mountainsides, anchor potential avalanche slopes, and prolong the spring snowpack with their thermal cover (which is also good for down-valley trout and other water-loving creatures, like people). And, according to Jesse, they'll be functionally eliminated from most of the greater Yellowstone ecosystem within five to ten years.

Flathead Grizzlies

Continuing my celebration of British Columbia's Flathead Valley, I'm posting some images from a trip I took there two summers ago with my father and our friend Ron. My story from that trip can be checked out here. An excerpt to accompany the images follows...