Samuel Martin

I hiked from Mexico to Canada this summer - it was a wild time.

I hiked to Canada today It’s a wild thing - walking from Mexico to Canada. This summer on trail has meant more to me than I know how to put into words right now. I’ll find the words one day - after I take a few showers and read some good books. I’ll remember the miles of dirt and the people I met there. I’ll remember the summer I walked north into the sun, into the snow and fire, into the mountains and a bit beyond. But now I stand in a clearing between two worlds. The wooden monument before me. My hands are stained by huckleberries and the dirt of a thousand miles. It feels strange to be here - to be finished - as if I’ll ever be finished. I wish I could stay a little longer - to breath in this world just a bit more. I glance southward down the trail for the last time. In my mind I can see all the way to a barbed wire fence strung across the desert. 2,652 Miles in 99 days. - Frick

Pacific Crest Trail. It’s been an idea I’ve had for a couple years now, to hike from Mexico to Canada. The distance is intimidating - 2,650 Miles - it sounds bigger when you say it out loud, a lot of things do. It’s going to be uncomfortable in more ways that I can imagine right now and it will test my will and endurance without a doubt, but I’m ready for the dirt. On May 10th I’ll find myself in the desert of California, walking north.

Warmer days are coming, ready to hike some miles

Under the cedar

Kept warm up on the mountain.

The eastern shore

Waterholes last summer

Golden mornings up in the gorge

Settling in by the fireside

Last night on the mountain

Just before sunrise

I'll tell you why I like photography, when I look back at my photos I can't help but to relive the moment captured in just a few pixels. Back in the dead of night, laying in the grass with that sky full of the heavens suspended over head. Back in the dirt, sitting beside the campfire, watching the light dance along the branches overhead. I'm back in the alpine, sweating with the effort of the climb and thinking to myself why do I do this? Back on the highline, frozen by the fear of doubt and terrified by the great depth below but willing to stand and fall. I'm back in the ocean, floating in the cold Atlantic waves staring out into an approaching storm. Back in the moments that capture my imagination and the memories that shine so bright. Photography is the medium I choose to remember.

Come on in, the coffee's just being poured.

Summer time on the mountain

Spent the weekend knee deep in a black berry bramble

And I'll be there on the ridge line, watching the last of the light dance across the lower valleys.