For years I've made my living driving strangers out the road and telling them the truth, more or less, about Juneau. Rain on the windshield. Bears in the ditch. Ravens on the mirror, auditing.
Now we're pointing the whole outfit south. Grand Canyon country. Trading forty shades of green for a hole in the ground you could lose Juneau in — trading rain that never quits for rock that never started.
People ask why. Here's the truth of it: the biggest story in North America is a mile deep, two billion years old, and still being told. I want to learn to tell it.
The books are coming with us. The Alaska ones are done — they don't need me hovering. The Canyon ones aren't written yet. That's the point. New ground, new books, same rule: real places, no filters.
Courtney's coming too. Somebody has to keep me honest at elevation.
We'll write the whole thing down as it happens — the last runs in Juneau, the long road south, the first look over the rim. Right here, under Field Notes. Leave your email on the way out and you'll get the word when the news is worth sending.
— Tom