This war needs a little less armored obstinacy and a little more ranch hand ingenuity and horse sense.
I’m walking down a street in a town long dead to me.
You did not seem so obsessive, like a hoarder, like those addle-eyed freaks on TV. But it’s hard not to notice.
A ski boot sits on the floor of my bedroom, next to the box where its mate resides. It’s new — a Tecnica.
In comparison with the beer festivals, the October celebrations of wine harvests are more subdued.
Ten years of shooting and killing and surging has failed to transform Afghanistan into an American-friendly democracy. What a surprise!
When we fail at following proper Leave No Trace, we call it Trail Booty.
I hand the CocoMocha to the petite window washer woman who can’t get enough of them and I know he’s come in.
You have made your dinner, eaten your fill, and are ready to wash dishes. First, lick your plate.
When high water pushes the river from its banks, old decisions pay off, or rise to haunt the current owners.
Outdoor Adventure Media