Just before the shut down I traversed Alaska on a scout for a (since cancelled due to covid) TV show about indigenous climate activists. The young people I met in Fairbanks, Nome, Cordova and Anchorage are extraordinary and give me great hope.

My visit to Squirrel Island last year was a brief one, but all the sweeter for the limited time. Spending summer weekends on this island outside of time, with dear friends who have become chosen family, sharing in their traditions over the years, has become one of my own. And the memories are deeply precious. Now we all remember a few of us already gone, the memories are that much dearer.

There are places whose beauty defy photography, which can be frustrating, as a photographer. Or you can relax into the immersive impossible beauty and occasionally shoot from the hip, embracing the novelty of an experience which cannot fully be captured or conveyed. And so instead you simply are present.

There is something quintessentially American about roadtripping, particularly when it is across the west. Throw in a good blizzard to clear the roads and flush out the wildlife and you have yourself an adventure.