Before walking toward the forest’s edge, I offer a silent goodbye to the gray-green waters of the Pacific.

Tedium is a regular part of my job. But today the graphs and calculations fall away as I inhale the scent of dirt and spruce needles. Out here, I am half scientist, half disciple. I’ve left the laboratory far behind and, with it, the need to quantify and contain. In its place, I’ve reconnected with the simple act of observation.

Observation can guide us to wonder. It’s also the foundation of all scientific inquiry. Without observation, we have little hope of understanding an individual, a species, or an entire ecosystem.

alcoholic; a shower and four walls provided to me right now. The line between words and actions quickly becomes blurred, so we don’t usually speak of our deepest doubts, or acknowledge that we could cause our own undoing. Today I don’t care. I can think of no reason to continue,

carefully planned, our route detailed, the logistics ironed out? But uncertainty has become the only constant. Rather than adhering to schedules or itineraries, our days are shaped by the landscape; each valley, each river, each pass slightly different from the last.

four thousand miles of roadless, trailless terrain through a landscape

Moving at human pace solidifies his connection to the land.

They have dense bones that can resist pressure underwater, fewer air sacs than other birds to reduce their buoyancy, and muscles designed for diving. But

Dealing gracefully with a chronic illness takes an ocean of strength. I hope that somewhere inside of me, I have a bit of that same