The Dirtbag Diaries

Two years ago, I was staring fruitlessly at a computer screen. In between half-hearted stabs at the keyboard, I thought about going back to grad school even though I had sworn that when I finished my undergrad at UW, I wouldn’t be back.  I wanted to simultaneously feel alive and afraid atop a 1,500-foot ribbon of Tahoe snow. I wished I was shaking my way through fragile hook placements on El Cap’s flanks. I wanted to be a malnourished and under-washed 22-year-old again, whose only appointment was watching the sunlight move across Western Australia. The grass was greener. The skies above were gray. I was looking back and stumbling forward, while the present slipped by.

I was sick of daydreaming.  I dropped the commissioned piece I was working on that day and started writing, guided by the same intuition that leads seasoned alpinists through hazardous terrain or pulls long-distance runners through the dark streets of cities. I wanted to explore, to grow, to learn. If the computer was going to be the vehicle – so be it.

The keyboard clicked like chattering teeth. I pulled out a mic left over from my days of playing in bands. Audio cords coiled around desk legs like creeping vines. I duct taped the mic to the battered stand (I used to rock pretty hard) and without having any idea of where it might lead, I hit the big red record button, stood up, cleared my throat and decided it was time to find my voice.   

Two years later, I’m still a struggling outdoor writer. What’s the difference then?  I’m a happy, struggling outdoor writer. The Diaries have swelled to encompass a variety of voices and viewpoints. They have become larger than one man broadcasting from a coat closet. Thank you for taking this journey with me.  Today, we present The Monoboard Revisited. Here’s to another two years of dreaming, tinkering and coming up with ways to get into trouble. 


                                       Click Here To Listen

PS It also happens to be my brother, Walker's, birthday. Happy Birthday dude.