All of those things – rock and men and river – resisted change, resisted the coming as they did the going. Hood warmed and rose slowly, breaking open the plain, and cooled slowly over the...

Suddenly, over the slope, as if tethered to a cord of air drawing quickly upward, came a Northern Harrier, motionless but for its rising. So still was the bird – wings, tail, head – it...

With a nearly desperate sense of isolation and a growing suspicion that I lived in an alien land, I took to the road in search of places where change did not mean ruin and where...

Memory is each man’s own last measure, and for some, the only achievement.

When you’re traveling, you are what you are, right there and then. People don’t have your past to hold against you. No yesterdays on the road.