…it wasn’t the first time I’d watched a man nearly cough up a lung. Each of the past four summers my wife, in-laws, and I have made the pilgrimage to the Smugglers Lounge in Eagle River, Wisconsin, a touristy little town half an hour south of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. Judging by the exterior, you wouldn’t guess at the treasure inside… Read more...
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A thousand voices of the wind called to us across the royal expanse of Lake Superior. The tiny town of Bayfield lay prostrate in the gales and tumbled down the hill toward the frigid waters. Its piers and docks like the arms of man in submission… Read more...
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…In the north we escape. We reconnect with a thirsting wild that still breathes and bucks in our souls. We leave behind the tethers of society and revel in not thinking about tomorrow. Hiking through the forest, grasping the gasping fish: our small souls sidling closer to nourishment… Read more...
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…periodically, at indeterminate distances, fireflies flickered like strobe lights to life. We sat in the near dark, an old, deaf lab at our feet, and quietly chatted time to a stand still. Every moment, a firefly. Every one of us, a breathless child clutching an empty jar… Read more...
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A hunter, oft-stubbled and bleary-eyed, driven by an insatiable hunger for exploration and experience - and perhaps a chance to thin the herd of caffeinated and alcoholic beverages. From the highlands and islands to Edinburgh, Glasgow, and the Borders, I explore Scotland with a pen in hand and a fire in the belly (which could be partly from the whisky). Read more!
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