“Either I will find a way, or I will make one.” – Sir Philip Sidney It was the third time we’d passed the small picture of a castle on a green road sign. It seemed to follow us around each roundabout we used that day. This way to Longleat. We were at the beginning of a planned-down-to-the-minute, 18-day road trip of southern England and Wales – but we were ahead of schedule. We’d already strolled through the history of Highclere Castle that morning (the place used for the TV

When I tell people I’m from Spokane, typically they respond in one of two ways: “What was it like growing up in your nation’s capital?” or “Zomg, I love Washington state! Doesn’t it rain all the time there, though?” It’s safe to say that, unless you’re a Sherman Alexie fan, you probably haven’t heard of my hometown. It’s about as far as you can get, within the intercontinental United States, from Washington D.C., and the climate is arid and seasonal (steppe), common for a pla

The style of the gardens behind the wall and tower are blended seamlessly – a mix of meandering precise paths. Some straightforward, others curving off in a new direction. Maze-like hedges hiding statues and special views, overgrown benches and manicured lawns, small pergolas and colorful flowers. Snaking vines and uniform trellises throughout the property are like bones forming a rib cage, overlaid with sinuous blood vessels. All of it with a purpose. Somewhere I found with

Along the southwest edge of downtown Vancouver, British Columbia, tucked underneath bridges and freeways, bisecting what the locals named “False Creek,” is the peninsula and shopping district of Granville Island. I first set eyes on Granville as an adult, just last year, on a birthday trip with my friend, Asaf. He insisted we do something special, something with traveling involved; and I chose Vancouver. Granville Island is home to over 275 businesses, art galleries, a commun

Several months ago, motivated by a surfeit of unseasonably sunny weather, I decided to play tourist in my own town. Armed with Daniel Bacon’s excellent guidebook, Walking San Francisco on the Barbary Coast Trail, I set out early in the day to meander my way through the 3.8-mile hike, which began downtown at the Old Mint, a formidable structure of steel-fortified granite, sandstone, and brick that survived the 1906 earthquake and subsequent fire. The route was marked by a se

The North Fork Road, of West Glacier National Park, runs away from the outside edge of Lake McDonald and its outlet creeks and streams, for 40 miles through forest succession and recovering wilderness unhurriedly toward Canada. In terms of services, there is almost nothing there—a handful of water spigots, a few pit toilets—not even in the only town (if it can be called a town) along the road, Polebridge, MT. The road is only accessible by private vehicle, with a Ranger Stati

This week, our team has been discussing the Backwords Blog roots, along with our mission and methodology. Our approach to wrestling with our own histories and personal experiences, through the deepening of research. And, yes, our sometimes-departure from that form. In light of the number of, say, “political posts” from us lately, and given the tenor of the times, the blog’s undertaking has occasionally felt like an inadequate vehicle for speaking our truth—especially to power

I was finally in Southern California. It took me a long time to get there. And I don’t mean that in a metaphorical I’d-been-waiting-all-my-life kind of way, I mean my flight was cancelled and my travel delayed by 7 hours. I’d flown south for a much needed break from my gray city life in Portland, and to visit my good friend Shonna who was living in Newport Beach for work. We’d lived together in Portland and she was always my go-to companion for hiking, camping, and general a

I had something else written. Something I felt good about, but was honestly somewhat rushed. Wordstock prep consumed me last week, and now I'm in Boston for a conference all week long. This is rushed, but the urgency feels right. After last night, I wrote this instead. I've been trying to put into words how I'm feeling about this election. Everything is overwhelming, yes. I'm sleep deprived, anxious, so many things, yes. The truth is: I'm feeling like I'm 13 again – in a

Our first talk was brief; a ward against loneliness. I wasn’t familiar with the place he was from but its distance impressed me. At first I thought it was warm; a party city at night, that’s how my mind’s eye imagined it. But as it happened, the first time we had a real conversation was in his small apartment about a week later. Only then did I notice his dark hair; his delicate nose, features on his round, pale face rimmed with blue glasses. It was summer and the afternoon f