I rolled out from raft camp… our little pocket of employee housing… and started making my way up the Parks Highway toward the entrance of Denali National Park. But right out of the gate… a major snag. Heavy construction on the highway stopped me in my tracks, and before I knew it, I was loading myself and my fully packed bike into the back of a pilot car. Not exactly how I pictured starting the trip… but hey, it made for a story.

Once past that short detour, though… I was on my way. I pedaled into the park surrounded by incredible scenery, the kind that immediately reminds you why you came all this way.

What made it even better… I had left in the evening, and with nearly nonstop daylight this time of year, there was no rush at all. Time just kind of… opened up..

I didn’t see a ton of wildlife on this adventure… but I did come across a couple of really cool birds. Here’s one of them… Mr. Willow Ptarmigan just hanging out, completely unbothered.

They’re funny like that… they really don’t seem to care if you’re nearby, and usually won’t even think about flying off unless you’re just a couple yards away. Makes for a pretty special, up-close moment out there.

Had to pull over for a quick photo stop at the beautiful Sanctuary River… one of those places that sucks you in. Definitely putting it on the list for a future backpacking trip.

Later on, I took a dinner break at the Teklanika River stop… and had the whole place to myself. Out there, after about mile 15 on the park road, it’s shuttle buses only… no private vehicles. The only other way through is by foot or bike… which made it feel even more special having the road all to myself.

Had a little moment out at the Teklanika River stop… sat down for dinner on the wooden deck, enjoying the quiet, when somehow my backpacking spoon slipped right through the slats and disappeared underneath. Gone… just like that.

Now every time I go back, I can’t help but think about it… my spoon still down there somewhere, tucked beneath the deck… like a tiny piece of me that never left.

Then around 11 p.m.… one of my favorite wildlife encounters of all time. I came across this incredible Golden Eagle. I’ve always wanted to see one… and yeah, I’ll admit, I’ve definitely mistaken vultures for golden eagles before… but this time, I’m pretty darn sure I got it right. We just stood there… staring at each other for a good half hour. One of those quiet, unforgettable moments.

It felt like I had the whole 6 Million acre National Park to my self..

After that, I made my way to Igloo Creek, where I had a permit to camp for the night… and it felt perfect. Beautiful, peaceful… exactly where I wanted to be. By the time I got camp set up, it was around midnight… and still plenty of daylight lingering in the sky.

I slept great, and the ride back the next day was absolutely stunning… crystal clear skies, everything glowing.

Not far from camp, I came across some fresh evidence of a bear dig… the ground torn up, earth scattered, a clear sign that something big had been working the area not too long ago.
It’s a subtle reminder out here… you’re not alone.

There’s something really special about Denali National Park… just that raw simplicity and rugged beauty that sticks with you long after you leave.

This area is what’s called an ecotone… a place where two worlds meet, where the tundra gradually blends into the boreal forest.

Most of these trees here are Black Spruce… hardy, resilient, and perfectly suited to this rugged, transitional landscape.

After an incredible winter in the desert southwest… I was more than ready to head back to Alaska. Truthfully, it’s been on my mind the whole time. This place has completely stolen my heart… I’ve fallen hard for it.

Flying in, I caught a glimpse of Denali out the airplane window… and wow. Seeing it from the air is something else entirely… just massive, unreal, and humbling all at once. At 20,310 feet, it’s the tallest peak in North America, and with over 18,000 feet of prominence… it’s considered the most prominent mountain in the world. That’s the vertical rise you actually see… and nothing prepares you for it.

Once we all arrived.. the whole crew linked up and headed straight out for some team building in Denali National Park. And just like that… total contrast from the desert.

The park was still covered in snow after a big winter while I’d been soaking up dry heat down south.

A shot of the crew gathered near the Savage River…

Demetrius just taking it all in…

A couple of Willow Ptarmigan hanging around too, right in that in-between phase… their feathers shifting from white to brown as the seasons start to turn.

It felt so good to be back at raft camp… surrounded by those tall spruce trees and breathing in that crisp, fresh Alaskan air. And right on cue… the bush planes were back, coming and going like clockwork… that familiar rhythm of the place settling right back in.

Evenings fell into their own routine just as easily… a bonfire out front of the cook shack, cardboard crackling in the flames while everyone gathered around… swapping stories, laughing, unwinding from the day.

It’s simple… but it’s everything. And those sunsets… they just don’t quit. Night after night, the sky puts on a show that never really ends.

Early season has its own personality… snow still blanketing the ground, but melting fast… like you can almost watch the landscape changing day by day.

This time around, I brought my custom hardtail mountain bike… something I didn’t have my first season… and I was stoked to finally have a little freedom to explore and get around on my own terms.

And how do you catch a raft guide…? With a cookie, of course.
Here’s my buddy Marcus a Teacher from Cali in the off season… kicked back and resting after a tough early season day on the water… earning every bit of that downtime.

So here’s a new post about when my son treated me to a trip to Meow Wolf Denver… and we just had an incredible time.

It’s one of those places where reality kind of bends a little… rooms that don’t make sense, stories hidden in every corner, and just pure creativity everywhere you look.

At one point, I even ran into a “psychic” who, somehow, seemed to read me… like she knew I was about to head out on another big adventure up in Alaska.

And sure enough… I’m getting ready to head back north for round two with Denali Raft Adventures. But before I go, it meant everything to spend some real, quality time with my awesome son, Seth… just being present, sharing laughs, and making one more great memory before the next chapter begins.

I’d highly recommend checking out any of the Meow Wolf locations… I’d love to see all of them if I ever get the chance. Each one is filled with stories, mystery, and absolutely mind-blowing art.

The entire place feels like one giant living, breathing piece of art… something you don’t just look at, but step inside and experience.

Before making it to Madera Canyon, I had a few stops and errands to take care of. I caught up with some friends in Mesa, Arizona along the way… always good to see familiar faces. I camped out in the cactus forest… an absolutely lush desert environment that completely blew me away.

I also rode some of my favorite trails down in Tucson… the Star Pass area, part of the Star Pass trail system, where the cacti stand tall and majestic against the sky. The Sonoran Desert near Tucson is just unbeatable… pure magic.

And of course, I couldn’t skip a night or two at the trash pit. It has its own kind of beauty… rugged, chaotic, and utterly captivating. I love it.
And with that, here we go… next stop… Madera Canyon

Madera Canyon sits in the Santa Rita Mountains just south of Tucson, and it’s one of those places that delivers every time. I found a great campsite on public land just outside Green Valley — free camping, legal for up to 14 days, and close enough to town that resupply was never an issue. The sunsets from camp were something else, with long views out over the valley that made it hard to go to bed.

My friends Gary and Kiki were out here with me for a good stretch of the trip, and we made the most of it. We hiked pretty much every day — working up ridgelines, dropping into creek drainages, and eventually knocking out a summit that still had snow on it. Great views, great company, and the kind of hiking where you feel it the next morning in the best possible way.

I also squeezed in a solo overnight, hammock camping right along the creek. No agenda, just the sound of water and the tree canopy overhead. Those simple nights are sometimes the best ones.

I got out on the mountain bike too, working through terrain studded with cool granite formations. The riding out here is underrated — varied, scenic, and just technical enough to keep things interesting.

The birding in Madera Canyon is world class. It’s one of the premier birding destinations in the entire country, drawing visitors from everywhere hoping to spot species found nowhere else in the United States.

On one of my final hikes I got lucky — an elegant trogon stepped out into the open, vivid and unmistakable. A great way to close out the trip

Good friends, good trails, good camping. Madera Canyon never disappoints.

This post needs no real explanation. I love dogs. I love Volkswagen Beetles. Nogales delivered both in abundance, and I had my camera ready.

Mexico kept the classic Beetle in production longer than anywhere else in the world, and that love for the car never really left. The streets of Nogales are proof — modified, painted, and proudly maintained, these Bugs are anything but forgotten. And woven right in between them, the street dogs of Nogales, doing what street dogs do best: owning every block they walk.

This one’s for them. All of them

There’s a specific kind of adrenaline that hits when you walk toward the border. For my recent dental trip to Nogales, that journey started at the gates

The crossing itself was surprisingly seamless. There’s no daunting security line or intense questioning; you simply walk through the gates and, just like that, you’re in Mexico.

It’s one of those rare moments where a single step truly feels like entering a different world.

Immediately, the atmosphere shifts. The streets are a living timeline, filled with cars from twenty or twenty-five years ago, and the architecture is unmistakably local.

Everything is bathed in bright, vibrant colors that seem to glow under the perfect Sonoran sun.

Mmmmm Street Food!

Of course, I was there for a reason… the dental care I received was truly excellent. The quality was top-tier—I wouldn’t hesitate to go back in a heartbeat.

But a trip to Nogales isn’t just about the clinic. Between appointments, I fell in love with the local street dogs (who seem to run the town!) and, naturally, I couldn’t leave without tracking down some authentic tacos.

Nogales offered a perfect blend of high-quality care and rich culture. If you’re considering making the trip for your own dental work, I can say from experience: the water’s fine (and the tacos are even better).

Why Ajo, you ask… well, it just happens to be one of my favorite places on the planet… right up there with Alaska. But this place sealed the deal for me when it comes to the Sonoran Desert… its majestic beauty, its quiet mystery, and a landscape packed full of incredible flora and fauna that feels alive in every direction.

You’ve gotta stop by the iconic church in downtown Ajo… Immaculate Conception Church really sets the vibe. It’s the kind of place that instantly slows you down… white stucco glowing in the desert sun, palm trees swaying, and that quiet, timeless energy that makes Ajo feel like more than just a stop… it feels like a place.

I immediately set up camp and take in the views… it’s amazing how much I’ve missed these beautiful cactus.

Each one has its own personality… like they’re all standing there with a story to tell if you’re willing to slow down and listen.

Here’s a shot of my iconic campsite… the full spread of gear set up. You’ll notice the little side room off my minivan camper… my own extra bit of space out here in the desert. But this spot… this right here… is what inspired the logo for journeyvision.

And of course… there’s the friends. All people I met last year… and every one of us thought Ajo was so good we had to come back.

We’ll start with Garrett… not a Colorado native, but that’s where he made his way from. A former lab engineer working in petroleum… he sold his townhome during the pandemic and essentially retired in his 40s… trading that world for the trail.

He’s a long distance hiker at heart… having completed the Continental Divide Trail… and, strangely enough, we were both out on the Colorado Trail back in 2015 and never crossed paths. It wasn’t until a random moment on social media that our paths finally did cross… one of those coincidences that doesn’t feel like a coincidence at all.

And here’s the whole crew together… a quick trip into town to run errands turned into one of those moments you wish you could bottle up.

There’s me on the left… and next to me is Gary, with his wife Kiki by his side. The two of them are triple crowned long distance hikers… having completed the Pacific Crest Trail, the Appalachian Trail, and the Continental Divide Trail… three of the longest and most demanding trails in the country.

Then there’s Barry… a retired postman who’s as chill and down to earth as they come. Loves to travel… loves a good landscape… just happy to be out here soaking it all in.

And finally, on the far right… Garrett… bringing it full circle

If you want to know the real secret to vanlife… it’s exercise. And the best kind of exercise comes through adventure… every day out here is a new opportunity for something fresh and challenging. There’s nothing like pushing yourself until you’re wiped out… then coming back to your little van to relax and a big meal. After a day like that, I don’t feel restless… I feel satisfied… content… grounded.

One of my favorite parts about coming down to Ajo is the endless gravel road riding. Not so much for technical singletrack, but just good old-fashioned gravel grinding… the kind that makes the miles melt away and your legs hum with that perfect kind of tired.

Along with the absolutely gorgeous sunrises and sunsets that seemed to happen every day, we also had regular nomad get-togethers. There were plenty of others out here doing the exact same thing… waiting out the cold winter months in a warm, beautiful place. It felt good to have that community around… made the desert feel alive, and I never once felt alone.

Do you know how much the aurora borealis weighs? Not much… because it’s pretty light. Ha ha.

This post is dedicated to those breathtaking northern lights — the ones that made the long Alaska nights feel like something out of a dream.
All of these pictures are mine, and the best ones were taken at Raft Camp, where I had my tripod set up and could really capture the movement and colors dancing across the sky. There’s something magical about watching them unfold over that wide-open landscape — quiet, vast, and so alive.

Now, you may say you’ve seen the northern lights down in the lower 48, but yeah… that’s like seeing a fireworks show from another county. Something’s happening, sure, but you’re not really part of the show. The interior of Alaska sits right underneath the aurora oval, giving it some of the best northern lights viewing in the world.
The bottom two shots were taken in Anchorage, where I was lucky enough to catch an absolutely killer show… the kind that makes you just stop and stare.

Alaska is one of the best places in the world to see the aurora borealis, especially once the nights grow darker in late summer and fall. The aurora is caused by electrically charged particles from the sun colliding with gases in Earth’s atmosphere, creating those shimmering lights that stretch across the sky — and when you’re under them, there’s nothing quite like it.

Being able to capture these moments up close — surrounded by quiet, dark skies and total stillness — bucket list item checked!

August had a different feel to it… like the season itself was exhaling. The long golden evenings were starting to slip away, replaced by a subtle crispness in the air that you could feel in your lungs first thing in the morning. The light changed too… softer, shorter, a quiet reminder that summer in Alaska never lasts as long as you want it to.

We call it “Angry August,” that stretch where exhaustion, emotion, and the looming end of it all would creep in. But for me, it was something else entirely… a time when the bonds I had built with the people around me felt the strongest they ever had.

This first picture captures a few of those people who made the season what it was.

Reed stands there… a kayaker from the Southeast, stepping into something much bigger than what he was used to. This was his first season on the big Alaska water, and you could see the growth happen in real time.

Then there’s Jimbo… still one of my closest friends to this day. The kind of person who just becomes part of your life without effort. Whether it was long days on the river or the slower moments back at camp, he was always there… steady, real, and impossible not to appreciate. Some friendships feel tied to a specific place or time… but this one stuck.

And of course, Dylan Metz… AKA Metz a legend in every sense of the word. One of those guys who seems to exist entirely within the rhythm of seasonal life. Summers guiding rivers in Alaska, winters shaping terrain parks at a ski resort in Idaho… year after year, chasing snow and water like it’s the only clock that matters. He carried this quiet authority, the kind that doesn’t need to prove anything. You just knew he’d seen it all before… and probably had a better story to go with it.

Looking at that photo now, it feels like more than just a snapshot… it’s a piece of that late-season energy. The mix of fatigue and fulfillment, the awareness that it’s all coming to an end, and the unspoken understanding that what you built together out there… it mattered.

By this point in the season, my mindset had narrowed to one thing… finish. Just get to the end. Under normal circumstances, that would’ve been its own challenge. But this wasn’t normal. I was doing it all on a broken leg… fresh off the biggest surgery of my life… and in one of the most remote places in America. Not exactly an ideal recovery plan.
Every step… or more accurately, every swing forward on crutches… was a reminder of it. The employee housing didn’t make things easier either. It was rough, bare-bones, and not built for someone trying to heal. But somehow, I made it work. You don’t really get a choice out there… you adapt or you don’t last.

And despite all that… I still found ways to live a little.

I made more than few trips to the bar, one of them being a favorite  along the Parks Highway… Skinny Dick’s Halfway Inn.

Yeah… go ahead and say that one slowly. It sneaks up on you.

It’s about 45 minutes south of Fairbanks, sitting out there like a mirage for anyone who’s been on the road too long. And it’s exactly the kind of place you’d hope it would be… part bar, part gift shop, part adult novelty store… and somehow it all makes perfect sense when you walk through the door. Or maybe it doesn’t… and that’s the point.
Inside, it’s a mix of locals, travelers, hunters, seasonal workers like us… all passing through, all with their own stories. It had that perfectly unpolished Alaska charm… a little chaotic, a little ridiculous, and completely unforgettable. The kind of place where you don’t ask too many questions… you just enjoy the moment and let the weirdness wash over you.

Looking back, it feels almost absurd… hobbling around on crutches, healing from surgery, and still ending up in a place like that. But that’s kind of what the whole experience was… uncomfortable, unpredictable, and somehow still full of life. Even at my lowest physically, I wasn’t going to let the season pass me by without squeezing a few more stories out of it.

Every day… no matter how I was feeling… I made sure to take a moment and appreciate where I was. Alaska has a way of doing that to you. The scale, the quiet, the sheer beauty of it… it almost didn’t feel real. There were times I’d catch myself thinking… how am I actually living here?

Part of my job was driving a shuttle van between employee housing and the raft office… just a seven mile stretch. But it never felt routine. Every drive was a chance to take it all in… wide open skies, distant mountains, that crisp, clean air that made everything feel a little sharper.

Even on crutches, even dealing with the injury… those short drives became one of my favorite parts of the day. A simple reminder… I was really there, and I wasn’t about to take it for granted.

This is my dear friend Kayleigh … and my manager for two seasons while I worked for Denali Raft Adventures in Alaska. She was one of those people who made a lasting impact without ever trying to… Loving, hardworking and kind, all through the chaos of a busy season.

Tragically, she passed away in the summer of 2025. It’s still hard to put into words what that loss feels like.

But what stays with me more than anything are the memories… the long days, the small moments, the laughter, and everything in between. Those are the things that don’t fade.

I’ll never forget our time out there, Kayleigh.

I love you… and I miss you.

This is our end of season group photo… taken at Panorama Pizza and Pub… easily the favorite hangout for our rafting crew. It had that perfect vibe… a place that felt like it belonged more to the seasonal workers than the tourists, and it was almost always packed because of it.

After long days on the river, this is where everyone ended up. The kind of place where stories got louder as the night went on, and nobody was in a hurry to leave.

And the pizza… unreal. They even have a gluten free crust! Easily some of the best around. I definitely spent a dollar or two there over the course of the season… and every bit of it felt well earned.

Looking at that photo now, it’s more than just a group shot… it’s the closing chapter. One last moment with everyone together before we all went our separate ways.

This is me… laid out in my tiny ATCO room, finally able to take the boot off and let my ankle breathe for a bit. Honestly, I spent a lot of time like this… off my feet, trying to rest and heal as best I could in a place that wasn’t exactly built for recovery.

One thing I did have, though, was the view out the window. Small planes coming and going from the airstrip… lifting off into that big Alaska sky. It gave me something to watch, something to focus on… a little reminder that life out there was always moving, even when I had to stay still.

And with that… I’ll leave you with a few peaceful, crisp snapshots of fall in Alaska… the place I was lucky enough to live and work in for a season that I’ll never forget.

It really is a special kind of beauty. Fall up there feels clean… quiet… like the land is settling in. The bugs are gone, the air turns sharp, and everything shifts into these deep golds and soft fading greens. It’s the kind of season that makes you slow down whether you mean to or not.

More than anything, though, this experience gave me something bigger. It helped me connect… with Alaska, with the people around me, and with a group of friends who became something more like family. That’s the part that sticks.

And somehow… I did it. I made it through the season. Through the injury, the challenges, all of it… and came out the other side in one piece. From there, it was back to Colorado… and right back into van life, chasing the next stretch of road across the Southwest.

But Alaska in the fall… that’s something I’ll always come back to. It’s not just the colors or the quiet… it’s the feeling. And if you’re lucky, you catch the northern lights dancing overhead, like the place is giving you one last sendoff.

I’ll save that story for the next post.