OK. First things first. I’ve been getting a lot of email about all this, so I figured I’d just put it out here instead.

I shoot a six mega-pixel Canon Digital Rebel with their stock lens and a Tamron 28-300 mm zoom. I use a polarizing filter for bright days on water or ice and keep a super fast 1 gig flash card in the cam. Although I have Photoshop, I typically use iPhoto for any edits, and my pics are almost always unedited for color. I crop and toy with brightness and contrast on occasion. So, yes, those icebergs really are that blue.

I did not “give up” on my trip. Jesus, people, pay attention. I came home a total of FOUR DAYS early in order to fix a broken computer and complete the visa applications I need for my next set of travels. I had always planned to come back to SoCal in March as I need my rock climbing gear and DON’T need ten pounds worth of fleece and goose down for Thailand and Australia. I still fully intend to stay on the road until my money runs out, hopefully anywhere from six to twelve months. She, on the other hand, is hoping I run out of money a lot sooner, and I would be a liar if I didn’t admit that there is a large part of me that feels the same way.

Daily comments are not coming back anytime soon. Comments change both the way I write and the way readers respond. The blog subsequently becomes less of an outlet and more of a means of digital communication, usually amongst people whom I do not know, and frankly, this comes with significant costs to my time, my psyche, and my relationships with people I do know. Although I find that I’m writing a lot less, I now find I am enjoying my writing more. More importantly, my blog, despite the best efforts of MT Blacklist and my digital fairy godfather, is routinely overrun with comment and trackback spam, and it’s a price I don’t want to pay while I am overseas.

And thanks. I liked the beard too - when I wasn’t clawing obsessively at my face.

Speaking of claws, I managed to escape the claws of her cat for two days by spending the weekend camping and climbing in Joshua Tree. I’m not sure that a giant, five-man tent filled with eight inches of portable foam mattresses and two 600 fill down sleeping bags and a cooler with wine and fresh strawberries qualifies as “camping,” but in the same respect, I’m not sure that the flailing I did on Joshua Tree slabs qualifies as “climbing.” Goddam, I am out of shape. The steep limestone and humidity of Thailand is going to kill me.

I digress. Despite the relative luxury of my mobile abode, I still failed to sleep under the desert stars as the wind howling over the valley kept turning our rain fly into a kite and pushing the walls of my tent onto my head. When I finally gave up and climbed out of the tent at 1 AM to secure our fly with a spare cordolette to the creosote bush a few yards away, I discovered that the sad attempt at a campfire we had so valiantly tried to start with paper grocery bags and the wet wood we had purchased that morning at Ralphs had, in the dry night winds, burst into flames and was crackling away, bright and warm while we were trying unsuccessfully to sleep in our shoddy, Wal-Mart special of a tent.

It was our second weekend in Josh. Bishop is scheduled for next week, and, unless she gets creative with those climbing ropes, Thailand soon after.

So much left to see. I only wish she could see so much of it with me.