BLM Dispatch #17 - Notes From the Sky
Greetings from 32,000 feet. I’m sitting in seat 33E, sandwiched between my thirteen-year-old son by the window and my ten-year-old daughter on the aisle. We’re two rows from the violent whoosh of the airplane toilet, somewhere between Grand Rapids and Los Angeles.
The rain and humidity of my sister’s farm in northern Michigan are still lingering on my skin and in my pores. My eyes are still mesmerized by the meadows, maples and marshes, along with the newborn calf still wet, her legs crooked, trying to walk for the very first time. I can still taste the blue eggs the hens laid and the wild raspberries we pulled off thorny branches and my mother blended into a pie. My t-shirt has the smell of sheep and cattle and chickens baked into its cotton.
I’m writing this dispatch on the plane because the week has crested the hill and is tumbling quickly toward Sunday - my self imposed newsletter deadline - and because, well, the only thing family vacations suffer from are a lack of putting fingers to keyboard.
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BLM Dispatch #16 - Bodie Hills, California
The stillness hits me first. More than the altitude, more than the cold, more than the last sliver of sun cresting over the Sierra Nevada.
Nearby aspen groves are lit with an October concoction of fiery orange, their leaves offering a final showcase before succumbing to the cold and falling aimlessly to the earth. Sagebrush dominates the terrain, anchoring the landscape as everything else begins to shift from autumn to winter. And to the distant north and west, the formidable sentinels of the Sierra Nevada stand watchful.
My temporary camp is all set up, and my warmest clothes are fighting valiantly against the plummeting temperature. I pour a small glass of whiskey and plop down in my chair. There is no wind, no sound, no movement.
Welcome to the Bodie Hills, I think to myself.
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BLM Dispatch #15 - South Yuba River, California
I had been reading harrowing and adventurous stories about the 65-mile South Yuba River in Northern California for a decade before I finally paid it a visit. There are drownings almost every year, brought on by swift currents and underwater boulders. There are nude beaches, a twenty-mile National Trail, and enough picturesque swimming holes to keep the residents of Nevada City and Auburn cool in summer, when triple-digit temperatures bake the western Sierra slopes.
The river introduced itself the moment I opened the car door. Water thundered through the granite-walled canyon at 2,000 cubic feet per second. A deafening roar. Imagine 900,000 gallon jugs of liquid crashing past every minute.
Walking the trail in early April was like walking through a green tunnel. Madrone, interior oak, toyon, fern, and foothill pine draped over the narrow path, causing a kind of bobbing and weaving walking experience. Moss clung to big leaf maple trunks. Small waterfalls stemming from unnamed tributaries cascaded over boulders and fallen branches. And everywhere smelled like wet granite and pine needles.
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BLM Dispatch #14 - The Enduring Wild Is Here!
I am thrilled to report that this book I have been pouring my heart, my body (and the shallow waters of our savings account) into for the past five years is finally here.
It’s officially publication week for The Enduring Wild.
During all those lonely days and nights writing in 2023 and 2024 — especially when putting down words felt like a slog, and my thoughts and typing fingers seemed to be working against each other — I would tell myself that eventually this would be finished, and that one day the physical book would be in my hands.
Now that day is here, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt more grateful in my professional life.
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BLM Dispatch #13 - Millions of Acres of BLM Land On the Chopping Block
I continue to be dumbfounded by politicians who are ignoring the overwhelming majority of Americans and their own constituents who value our shared public lands.
According to the latest Conservation In the West poll (which does not include California, Oregon, and Washington) want their elected officials to prioritize clean water, healthy air, and wildlife habitat. An overwhelming 89% of voters across party lines support keeping National Monument protections in place.
Public lands - and the wildlife, biodiversity, watersheds, and recreation they support — remain one of the last places where Americans find common ground. Where else do you see hunters, birders, OHV users, and hikers standing shoulder to shoulder, all holding signs about the importance of keeping public lands in public hands?
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BLM Dispatch #12 - Humboldt Sink, Nevada
I woke to the sound of something chewing on the side of my tent at exactly 4:53am, two minutes before my alarm was set to rustle me from sleep. As if the creature and the clock were in cahoots.
Tsk, tsk, tsk.
Tsk, tsk, tsk.
My head, turned sideways on the pillow and snug against the tent wall, put my face just inches from the sound, my breath like a strange little space heater for the fellow.
I gave a gentle flick toward the noise (kangaroo rat? western whiptail?), and the visitor abandoned its post in search of less polyester fare.
Alright pal, I said, I’m up.
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BLM Dispatch #11 - Pershing County, Nevada
On Tuesday, May 6, around 11pm, Republican Representatives Mark Amodei and Celeste Maloy introduced a surprise amendment to the House Natural Resources Committee that would authorize the sale of BLM lands in Nevada and Utah. The provision was quietly slipped into a sweeping environmental bill during the final hour of a 13-hour debate — without public input, transparency, or meaningful discussion.
Initial estimates suggested 11,000 acres would be affected. But as conveyance, disposal and checkerboard resolution maps became available of the exact parcels marked for disposal, the number ballooned to 540,385 acres.
Everyone was talking about the land totals — but no one was showing what the landscapes actually looked like.
So I decided to go see them. If these lands were going to be handed over to the highest bidder, the least I could do was document them. To create a photographic record of what we stand to lose.
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BLM Dispatch #10 - Carrizo Plain National Monument - Part 2
The Carrizo Plain is roughly fifty miles long by fifteen miles wide, framed neatly between the Temblor Range to the east and the more formidable Caliente Range to the west. There are just two main entrances to the Monument: from the north and the south, both connected by Soda Lake Road, a bumpy but reliable gravel road that runs straight through the valley.
I’ve spent many lovely nights out there under the stars, mostly during drought years, when the valley choked with dust, Soda Lake was dry, and the grasslands resembled a giant bale of hay.
But in early 2023, a series of atmospheric rivers dropped thirteen inches of rain just as I was working on an essay about the Carrizo for The Enduring Wild. When I visited that April with a botanist, I arrived to a scene that left me stunned. From the book:
The landscape was so incomprehensibly different I couldn’t help but stare in disbelief. Soda Lake Road had become a yellow brick road, and I had wandered into the Land of Oz. I couldn’t figureout where to look, as if my eyes and brain had gone haywire into a hyper state of mesmerizing distraction that left me utterly speechless. It was like taking Dorothy’s first step into the technicolor world of Munchkinland after living in sepia-toned Kansas.
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BLM Dispatch #9 - Carrizo Plain National Monument - Part 1
Last weekend, I guided a group of 20 urbanites out to the BLM-managed Carrizo Plain National Monument for another USAL Project camping trip. We were there to see wildflowers, hike my favorite trails, drive the back roads, and share some epic nightly fires under dark skies.
Except there were almost no flowers across the entire plain, outside of a few scattered lupines, lacy phacelia, and stands of bladderpod giving it a valiant effort.
And the weather! It was like a deranged toddler running rampant after crushing a pack of skittles: loud, destructive, and totally unpredictable. In three days, we received rain, hail, 25 mph wind gusts, overcast skies, and nightly temperatures that dipped into the 30’s.
Wind chill minus a thousand. Muddy shoes. Whipping tents. Campfires traded for huddles around a sputtering stove…
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BLM Dispatch #8 - Berryessa Snow Mountain National Monument
Building on my last dispatch from the Cache Creek Natural Area, we now move to its next door neighbor: the massive 344,476-acre Berryessa Snow Mountain National Monument.
Designated by President Obama in 2015 and named for its two geographic anchors — Berryessa Peak in the south and Snow Mountain to the north — this monument forms a stunning hundred-mile corridor through California’s Inner Coast Ranges, with elevations ranging from near sea level to over 7,000 feet. The U.S. Forest Service oversees the northern half; the Bureau of Land Management stewards the southern stretch, including Molok Luyuk, a sacred ridge newly added in 2023. That addition is now co-stewarded by the Yocha Dehe Wintun Nation.
I’ve visited Berryessa many times over the past several years, but one of the most memorable trips came in April 2022, when I set out with two of my sisters for a half marathon day hike into the Cache Creek Wilderness, one of the Monument’s most remote and rewarding corners…
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BLM Dispatch #7 - Cache Creek Natural Area
Welcome to the Cache Creek Natural Area.
The sheer abundance of greenery, spanning every imaginable shade, is reason enough to visit. The grasslands have patches of emerald, lime, and neon. The blue oaks are starting to leaf out, their new growth a darker, foresty kind of green. Wavy-leaf soap plants stretch up in pale pistachio stalks. Hillsides dotted with gray pines soften the view with their muted sage and gray undertones — earning them their nickname, Ghost Pines, for their spectral, ethereal presence in early light.
For the walkers, this place is paradise. While there are dozens of miles of developed trails, you can also have a field day choosing your own route up and down the foothills, weaving between the gnarled bark of the blue oaks, stopping to inspect whatever catches your eye…
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BLM Dispatch #6 - Point Arena-Stornetta
Point Arena-Stornetta can be moody as hell.
I experienced the full spectrum of weather along California’s rugged north coast: heavy fog, fleeting sun, and wind strong enough to push you around — all before 10 a.m. It was the kind of day where you find yourself in a t-shirt one moment and reaching for a winter hat the next.
My windbreaker snapped and hollered along with the mighty waves, and all notions of quiet quickly vanished.
I followed a narrow trail through damp golden fields to the mouth of the Garcia River, where the 44-mile waterway meets its inevitable end. The area was alive with sound: the guttural barking of sea lions, the chatter of ravens, the flapping wings of cormorants, oystercatchers, and gulls. Even a few otters bobbed in the surf, making their presence known with casual nods toward shore.
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BLM Dispatch #5 - BLM Campgrounds In the Eastern Sierra
One of the questions I hear most frequently from my Instagram community is whether there are actual campgrounds on BLM land.
It’s a great question because most people associate camping on BLM land with dispersed camping, the self-sufficient, rugged style usually done along roadside pullouts. Nearly all BLM land is open to this kind of camping, but I'll save those details for another newsletter.
But yes, there are hundreds of developed BLM campgrounds across the American West! And some of my absolute favorites are tucked in and along the eastern slope of the Sierra Nevada, just a short detour off famed Highway 395.
So, let’s dive into my favorite Eastern Sierra BLM campgrounds — with images, links, descriptions, and a beautiful illustrated map from my book…
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BLM Dispatch #4 - Merced River Recreation Area
Whether you’re from California, Tokyo, or Spain, there’s a good chance you’ve heard of the 145-mile Merced River — or at least seen it in pictures.
This is the river that tumbles over the iconic Vernal and Nevada Falls, forming nature’s iconic “grand staircase” in a little-known place called Yosemite National Park. :)
After cascading through lush meadows and evergreen forests, the Merced drops 3,000 vertical feet before leveling out at the BLM-managed Merced River Recreation Area.
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BLM Dispatch #3 - Elkhorn Ridge Wilderness
I’ve been thinking a lot about those landscapes we visit and never return to again.
The beautiful places and experiences that leave an indelible mark on us — a weekend of quiet, a friendship deepened, an unexpected run-in with flora and fauna. The places where we tested our fortitude on a long-distance hike, cast a fishing line, or sat around a campfire with a good drink and easy laughter. The places where we found connection — not just to the people we traveled with, but to the place itself.
And then we drive away, the landscape fading in the rearview mirror, and somehow, for whatever reason, we never return.
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BLM Dispatch #2 - Conglomerate Mesa
If you’ve ever driven along the southern stretch of California’s famed Highway 395, you’ve likely found yourself craning west, staring at the formidable peaks of the Sierra Nevada — perhaps imagining the clear alpine lakes just beyond the ridgeline.
But for those who turn their gaze east, a different landscape unfolds: stark desert mountains marking the transition to the Great Basin. This is where I’ve been looking for the past five years — wandering the Inyo Mountains, where two mesas rise like shelves along the range.
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BLM Dispatch #1 - Centennial Flats
This inaugural dispatch comes from Centennial Flats, California - framed in neatly between the Eastern Sierra and Death Valley.
I have explored BLM lands in the Mojave Desert too many times to officially count, but I put the rough number somewhere around ninety days. I have walked almost two hundred miles along the washes and trails, climbed the mountains, and bounced along the lonely roads, far enough and long enough to feel a deep kinship with the juxtaposed beauty and wild unpredictability of the landscape.
But I had never walked the desert in the rain.
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Welcome to the Forgotten Lands Project
For the past five years, I’ve been exploring, documenting, and writing about California’s BLM landscapes for my forthcoming book, The Enduring Wild, which tells the unique story of these lands through a collection of essays, photography, and illustrated story maps.
But some stories deserve more space.
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