Sorry if it sounds pretentious, but sometimes I just love the archive:

I've grown to love this kind of egress from civilization in a way that makes me miss my estranged father, even though I suspect the image of his Only Son splashing around bare-assed, drinking beer and shooting dice around the campfire with a bunch of tattooed outlaws like some kind of second-generation dirt-worshiping hippy would probably put him even further off. He maybe gets hung up on appearances though, and would really appreciate the spirit of the thing if he could perceive it, so I think about writing a fathers-day letter (and maybe I still will), but mostly I just drink up the earth and do my level-best to be Present. It's good. Much glory all around.

There's a pretty neat video taken while driving on Salmon River Road too.

Note to self: retain freewheeling sense of outlaw Fun even as aging/maturation progresses. Alternatives, unappetizing.