To Sedona, you drive north from Phoenix through dusty lands of short shrubs and Saguaro forests, rugged mountains of black rock and rolling plains of nothingness as your backdrop. The road takes you through a charmingly-named “Bloody Basin” and onward through a changing landscape of distant snow-capped peaks and highway signs flashing warnings of ice and snow on roads further north. And quite suddenly, there to your left on the horizon you see it—the cliffs glinting red like hot coals against the sunset’s light, the towers growing higher and redder as you near.
In June, I spent two weeks in Canada’s British Columbia and Alberta regions, exploring the wild beauty of Canada’s Pacific Coast and Rockies.
These are the details of my second week + recommendations for your own trip to Alberta & the Banff area.Read More
Last June, I spent two weeks exploring Canada’s British Columbia and Alberta regions. It was a trip characterized by wild beauty and a swelling appreciation for the peace offered by a hike in the mountains, an experience of rest that my soul had been thirsting for.
These are the details of my first week + recommendations for your own visit to British Columbia.Read More
“You can’t do this,” Fear told me as I stopped to catch my breath midway up the ascent. Other hikers passed by clad in proper hiking gear—waterproof pants, boots with grip, collapsible hiking sticks. I was wearing yoga leggings, a barely-waterproof jacket found on sale at Burlington Coat Factory, and tennis shoes that I had owned since high school. Fear was right—I was not equipped at all for a hike in the Canadian Rockies.
This is an essay on fear, doing hard things, and hiking in the Canadian Rockies.Read More
I took a trip to California in April—an idea that was born under the blue skies of another trip west in January, as my friends and I ate pizza after our final hike together in Phoenix. “Let’s go to California,” someone suggested. Why not?
So we booked a week in Los Angeles. On our itinerary: a day hiking in Joshua Tree National Park.
If my home decor and the tattoo on my wrist and my Instagram caption enthusiasm don’t make it clear enough: I am a sucker for the desert, and cactuses in particular. I think the whole place is a magical, martian land, so different from anything I grew up in or experienced for the first 23 years of my life. I could sit on a rock on a desert mountain all day long, and I have, and I will do again exactly this in November.
This is an essay about hope and resurrection + photos & recommendations for your trip to Southern California.Read More
My London is circling Heathrow on our descent while playing The 1975’s “Robbers” on repeat. My London is a tree on Primrose Hill, sitting underneath it year after year, a bit like marking my growth on a door frame.
My London is a Thai restaurant with only six small tables tucked into a room in a square across from the Natural History Museum. My London is a bench on the banks of the Thames, the Shard barely visible behind a brown stone church on the opposite bank.
My London is a mocha and a notebook and all sorts of thoughts ready to wrestle with the blank page. My London is raindrops and wind gusts and grey skies spread wide.