Epic views: Shot of the day
So many places. So little time. Check out some of the cool things we’ve seen.
All my Montana photos are full of sky.
A life well lived and greatly mourned
My dear friend David Stabler has died.
It was a difficult blow, made worse by the fact that his bone marrow transplant had seemed to be a success, his appetite and energy returning, allowing him to go home. We were traveling in the area and had hoped to see him shortly after he was released from the hospital.
But his respite was short-lived, an infection forced his return to the ICU and proved too difficult for his baby-new immune system to handle.
Canada: We love you
Tom and I disagree about whether the Canadian border guard was just being her military self or was kind of, a little bit, angry at us. Was she just being efficient or was she glaring at us because President Trump had threatened to annex her country and now, here we were, wanting to drive The Epic Van across the border and bask in the uberpolite beauty of our northern neighbor.
A wedding like a song
Kalie and Joe got married on the lawn in Yellow Pine.
If it sounds like a John Cougar Mellencamp song, it kind of was.
Art from the heart

Haley’s cut-paper image of Tom and I in The Epic Van.
As we were leaving my friend Meredith’s house to hit the road, her amazing daughter, Haley, came by with a gift: a small cut-paper representation of Tom and I in The Epic Van, heading out on the road.
Haley, a wonderful artist who works in many mediums, is now mastering this Matisse persona.
In Haley’s beautiful piece, you can see me, with my gray hair and red glasses, Tom, with his hat and sunglasses, The Epic Van herself, the places we go and the things we see: saguaros from our home state, mountains, oceans, pine trees, flowers and the sun. We’re waving and happy.
Worlds, in a tiny square.
I adore it, and I adore Haley.
A rainy day
It rained yesterday.
We sat under The Epic Van’s awning in Red Canyon Campground with a stunning view of sandstone cliffs through tall pine trees and watched it rain.
The morning was sunny and hot. But by midday, clouds gathered. Faraway thunder rumbled. And in the afternoon, it started.
Tom vies for sainthood as we pivot
Put another mark under the “saint” column for Tom, who rarely, hardly ever, well, almost never, gets upset with his adorable wife.
But, really, this was a big fuck-up.
Find a road less traveled, but start at the Rooster
If you’re looking for a road less traveled, you could start in Selah, Washington, just north of Yakima.
But first, you should stop at The Red Rooster, where you might find a table of about eight people REALLY enjoying their lunch. Don’t be put off by the cracked linoleum, the off-key shout-singing from the drinks-for-lunch gang, or the guy at the end of the bar with a Trump coozie around his Busch beer can. Just order some pulled pork barbecue, with beans and coleslaw on the side.
Harbor hopping along the West Coast
Tom’s our trip planner, and I usually just climb into the front seat and ask, “Where are we headed.” This time, for our annual drive up Highway 1 along the West Coast, he added a new trick: Harbor hopping.
Nothing better than a beach town
I love a beach town.
And here, in Morro Bay, California, I’m in heaven.
Maybe it’s because I grew up in Hawaii, where every town is a beach town. Maybe it’s because I’m an old hippie at heart. Maybe it’s because sun and surf are natural de-stressors.
But I can just feel myself sigh when there is a dusting of sand across the road.