HunterWhat Do You Know?I stand alone in my bedroom, lost, wandering through a poem by Lynne Sharon Schwartz about climbing a ladder and waking before we reach the…Oct 24, 2017Oct 24, 2017
HunterWhat LingersIn my childhood home in Pennsylvania, a map of the Pacific Crest Trail hangs on the kitchen pantry door. My mom has marked spots on the map…Aug 24, 2017Aug 24, 2017
HunterFirmament of Flowers: For Jean BruckThe trees are deep and dark. The cliffs are sheer as teeth. The black bear must emerge at some time, I think. I wait and look. So must the…Aug 3, 2017Aug 3, 2017
HunterGetting— and Gotten — BackThis post is two in one, a draft from two weeks ago next to my present reality. Have I mentioned I’m not a fan of linear stories? Seems…Jul 23, 2017Jul 23, 2017
HunterHomeAlways a feeling, a subtle and unmistakable song. At times, some intervals longer than others, it is a place. The place may change. The…Jul 4, 2017Jul 4, 2017
HunterA High Sierra LogBelow are journal entries, (almost) verbatim, from the 11 days leading up to my decision to turn back. I spent most of the 11 days hiking…Jun 30, 20171Jun 30, 20171
HunterClarity is a Matter of OpinionFor those who have never pondered setting foot on the road, what I am doing may seem odd. Now, I’m beyond the skeptical looks in towns. I…Jun 21, 2017Jun 21, 2017
HunterOne DayThe sun’s light reaches up and around the horizon like an arm reaching around a corner or a lover. Does the sun fumble in the dark…Jun 13, 2017Jun 13, 2017
HunterYear of ThirstAlmost one year ago, on June 8, 2016, I crossed over the Mississippi River at St Louis, Missouri. I have not been East of that dividing…Jun 4, 2017Jun 4, 2017
HunterI Am Because I BelongThis is a South African expression, called Ubuntu in the local language Nguni Bantu. I know this term from reading essays by Archbishop…May 21, 20171May 21, 20171