ressing my bare foot against the gas pedal to give my car enough oomph to climb up and out of Yosemite Valley, the last embers of color from a stunning sunset faded to black as I began a nine-hour drive through the dark of night toward Redwood National Park. Behind me, the most beautiful waterfalls I'd ever seen were roaring over majestic cliff faces and crashing into the calm valley that, just a couple hours earlier, had been filled with a crawling cavalcade of cars, trucks, SUVs and tour buses that snakes along the park's roads during the day and retreats to some mysterious lair upon the descent of darkness.

A plastic bucket in the trunk of my gray 2009 Hyundai Elantra held my trail runners and hiking boots, both soaked during a day that involved trekking under waterfalls and over submerged trails. Yosemite received twice as much snow as usual during the winter and, on this day in late May, the big melt fed incredible cascades that were showering the valley from all sides.

Not willing to waste all of my daylight driving, this was the second time in a week I decided to cruise through the heart of night on the unfamiliar roads of a state I'd never visited. The grooved rubber of the gas pedal felt strange against the bottom of my tired, bare right foot, but soon I felt more connected to the road than ever as I cruised north along the lonesome interstates and highways. The freedom I felt increased with each mile I put between myself and the life of stagnation I left behind in the Midwest.

Winding up and down mountains, through forests and past lakes, I couldn't see much beyond the range of my headlights. Finally—for the first time in 30 years on this earth—I glimpsed the foggy Pacific coast as day began to break, then hiked that misty morning among the mighty redwoods of a fern-filled forest.

There are days and nights you immediately recognize as ones you'll remember forever, even as you're living in them. This was one of mine.

When I began my solo, two-month road trip touring the natural wonders of the American West, my hope was to accumulate many such memories. Now, months after I completed my journey, they regularly resurface and prod me to do something. Go somewhere. They make me restless.

In an effort to appease these feelings, I write about my experiences and, in a way, relive them. After taking in so much natural beauty, I feel a responsibility to create something in return. By launching this website, I hope to pass on or reinforce a passion for the outdoors with my visitors, taking you to places you've wished to go, already love or never knew existed.

Expanding my world is a constant endeavor, one I've attempted to pursue more seriously of late. I've come to learn that it's easy to wear paths into ruts. This impedes personal growth and makes us feel stuck in place, sometimes without realizing it.

This was part of the reason why, in 2016, I quit my job in the newspaper industry, which itself has struggled to adapt and grow in the Age of the Internet. Unhappy with my life's path, I walked out on a career I began a decade ago to take a gap year and reassess my way. Over the past year I've dedicated my time to reconnecting with family and friends, learning to code, reading and traveling. I've also attempted to regain control of a racing mind that's been programmed to consume an unholy amount of content at an unreasonable rate of speed.

Stillness is a struggle to achieve in a fast-paced world. Sometimes we need to be reminded to slow down. Relax. Reflect. Time in the wilderness allows us to both see within and look beyond ourselves. Listen to the land; it has something important to tell us.

I took a trip to get away from the noise and to see my country. I drove 9,361 miles and hiked hundreds more while visiting 15 national parks and many other public lands in a period of two months. It was a life-changing experience that gave me a greater appreciation for the rejuvenating, enlightening and inspiring properties of nature, as well as a sense of kinship with those who share a passion for these powerful places.

The further we venture from our comfort zone, the better we'll remember the journey. This is where I'll record and share my journey: where I've been, who I've met and what I've learned.

Working on this website helps remind me that there's so much out there beyond my own little world, and helps me pass the time between the trips. I hope browsing the images and reading the stories can help do the same for you.