It can take 10 hours to navigate the length of Englestead Hollow. Search and rescue teams routinely employ helicopters to pull injured canyoneers from its maw. Occasionally, trained dogs sniff out corpses hidden in its gloom. Read more...

Is it trite to knife words from Keats? Tasked with a narrative on Iceland, I would beg to defer. There's too much silent beauty. Too much howling savagery. Too much perfect contrast. The rocks house spirits. Read more...

We're skiing blower pow in a storm at Alta and Snowbird. The sun comes out. As a photographer I've spent 20 years trying to capture days like this. But to describe it? It's beyond glorious. It's April and most people are thinking about golf. Read more...

The grass haunts me. I spread my backcountry ski gear in the bed of my pickup late on a Friday afternoon in early May. And it grows. Somewhere, a winter ski partner is thinking not about late season turns in New Hampshire's White Mountains... Read more...

It's barely one o'clock, but Slopeside at Steamboat is already mobbed with drinkers. Every resin chair on the bar's snowy beach holds a butt rendered immobile by the springtime sun. Read more...

Once a dingy and nearly forgotten industrial town off Interstate 70, Fruita (named for the orchards that drove the economy before natural gas) exploded on the mountain bike scene 10 years ago. Read more...