Every week has had a new and unique plan - a very different task or challenge. Each month offers a new place to explore, geographically and/or socially. Recently, American social spheres have been uber-focused on the Democratic and Republican National Conventions, and neither have had positive reception. Most individuals are solely focused on all of the negative in each of these arenas. Granted most of the notable news is negative, we must remember a couple of very key things. First, the negativity bred from and by the two major “presumptive” party nominees are manufactured as distractions; don’t let it get you down! Second, no matter the “winner” of this year’s presidential race, the person serving as our nation’s president doesn’t matter as much as the media shows the masses; get involved in your local communities and make REAL differences with those you can reach!

Over the last several years of traveling, whether nomadic or planned, I’ve met men and women of all different backgrounds, capabilities, and levels of ambition. There are some micro cultures that flourish and others that fizzle. And almost always the main difference is how connected the people are to EACH OTHER. Nothing separates humans more than religion and politics, both of which are largely unnecessary AND in the limelight right now. The communities that live the best lives are the ones who help each other. They help each other with rides to school, watching the kids, medical bills, or even just a smile on the walk to their neighbor’s house. Those that give a shit receive something good in return. And it won’t matter how phenomenal or atrocious our next president is; the morale of communities across America go deeper than that.

When in Portland, I witnessed about 20 people in a park surrounding a group of picnic tables, having a great old time. As I got closer to the group, I noticed that each of the people looked or acted homeless. Many dirty outfits, odd smells, and tent bags could be observed. But each person was as happy as could be. It didn’t matter to any of them who was making laws, because they were there for each other. They weren’t focused on a homeless stipend or how easy legislation made it for their soup kitchens to stay open. They were sharing what they all had scraped together and fully enjoying their lives. A few of them were snacking, and many smelled of sweet (legal Oregonian) cannabis.

In Lima, many children I observed were obviously living in poverty, some in extreme poverty. The ones I would regularly see would congregate at the local skatepark and spend their downtime there. They’d share boards and tips for riding them. They’d exchange smiles, giggles and words of kindness. It was the least I could do to offer them half of whatever I brought to the skatepark, and I’d occasionally give them weathered skateboard parts before buying replacements. They had no qualms about asking for things, and no anger in being denied. They simply were living their lives in a way that didn’t need much else, support or otherwise, from outside forces. The children weren’t American, but they shared a common thread with those of other communities that I’d seen. They communicated with love instead of hate, and they were doing just fine without any strings attached.

On many visits to Florida, I’ve seen humans at skateparks, bars, and grocery stores who will never see another US state (the same applies to almost any American state). And that’s okay. Especially to them. There’s not much reason for them to test their boundaries. And those are the people most affected by their governments - those without mobility or great desire to escape. Even they are better off, from my experience, than those that focus on the negativity they can most easily attach themselves to. They create their own happiness, like from scratch, with only what is immediately around them. They don’t need much and accordingly don’t want much to live their lives.

Meanwhile, other “better off” middle to upper class Americans insist on being pissed off at their “friends” on Facebook, because they don’t approve of gay marriage or some other controversial topic that doesn’t really affect their lives. It is surprising, but not refreshing to see how many people choose to burden themselves with opinions that are hurtful to others or even to themselves. I’m not suggesting that anyone should seek to be uninformed or ignorant in the name of that bliss. But I am observing that many who choose to fight for an arbitrary stance in lieu of creating their own guide are some of the least happy and even least effective people I’ve ever met.

We each have a dream. And we each have always wanted to keep that dream alive. Are you pursuing the ideals of a political party/institution/rule book assigned to you, or are you creating your own each day? Is it hard or easy? Is it enabling growth, or is it stunting the growth of others for the sake of being "right?” Are you helping others or only yourself?

If you adopted others’ opinions & morals and then stopped, you never learned how to practice & build your own. This is not advice to ignore the presidential election, by the way. But 88% of Congress is up for re-relection, and no one seems to talking about that. By educating yourself and acting with true intention, each person is doing their part to make this place better.

It’s every day. Choose to love and to leave what’s unimportant behind.

Focus on the significant and not on what’s popular.

 - 7Ply Epic

The beach was rocky, unlike the sandy warm-water beaches I’d grown up taking for granted. It was full of pebbles. Full of rocks that each told a tale of a long journey through ocean and on land to where they lay now, downtrodden by our every step, as we walked west on the south-facing shore, toward a distant sea barrier. The barrier seemed strikingly similar to the seawall of Chicago - the one shaped mildly like a quarterpipe, with level concrete at its base and a hefty lip at its top. Looking the other direction showed the public beach entrance and a young family admiring the ocean from a different perspective.

The sun was full and glaring from directly above us in the clear sky overhead. The breeze was faint yet consistent. I was walking along that stony shore with my partner in the brisk summer wind and UV light of that powerful star. We were both glad to be spending the day in Santa Barbara County that day, especially knowing the day ahead of us would be so rich.

There are few times in our lives when circumstances seem eerily perfect without any of the eeriness at all. This was definitely one of them, as we thoroughly enjoyed summertime vibes while walking the shoreline in a place aptly named Summerland, California. Five or six miles east of Santa Barbara, nestled right in the small cliffs of the Pacific coast, Summerland shares community with other pleasant towns, such as Carpinteria and Montecito.

The communal energy in these places reminded me incredibly of the coastal communities around Wilmington, NC, where I grew up, only with the looming background of LA down the coast 80 miles. The sleepy shopping strips, commonly delicious seafood joints, and leather-skinned locals were all triggers. The southern accents were absent, but the coastal mentality remained. Later in the day, after a bit to eat and a proper nap on a Pacific seawall, we headed further west for a day’s adventure in Santa Barbara.

It was a Saturday, and State Street was “happening," as they say. Crowds had flocked to their favorite venues and watering holes for the evening. And we were lucky enough to stumble across a worthy Grateful Dead cover band. They caught our attention from our brisk pace on the sidewalk, so we decided to stay for a drink and a few relaxing moments, soaking in the rich local vibes. Santa Barbara, as I like to see it, is a town, much like LA without the “LA.” There are many fun activities to partake in, including live music, good food and gatherings of good spirit. And we happened across a small cross section of that.

After experiencing some of that good live music, we pursued a bit of people watching amongst the bustle of local weekend endeavor. Post-SB strip, it was the skatepark that I so yearned for, so we headed to “Skater’s Point.” Well-known amongst the locals and Southern Californian skaters, Skater’s Point is an older skatepark based at the foot of the Santa Barbara pier, with an unmistakable view of the beach. It’s a place you must visit if spending significant time skating Los Angeles. The vibes are good, the people are mellow, and the talent is most definitely there.

When the park fulfilled its purpose, we headed back to State Street for dinner and little more quality people watching. And it did not disappoint. We had mediocre pizza, great beer, and Chloe’s very first espresso shot. Was a great night that I’ll most likely never forget. I’ll skip the formalities and little details of the road trip home, but the day had been a success.

The drive home was pleasant (since all of the normal traffic was absent), and we had a few glasses of well-deserved white wine before feeling the need for quality sleep on a Saturday night.

At this point, weekend adventures are the norm. I’m totally okay with that and even proud of the fact that we’ve developed a cadence to our adventurous spirit of action. Another weekend included a full Saturday of seeing new places and doing new things in Santa Barbara County. Always something to do. Always something to see.

I can’t wait for the next one.. And trust me, it won’t be long.

The epic goes along, as we live the days of this life.

 - 7Ply Epic

The air conditioning system was broken, so wind was blowing through our hair by default. The Southern California plains were whizzing by, as we listened to one random playlist or another. The road was as open as ever, and Chloe and I were in full-on cruise mode.Fully prepared for a weekend in East Bay and San Francisco, we were in transit north.

When we arrived in Berkeley, the destination was Media Center Theater on Addison Street. There was an educational skateboarding industry panel (and Q&A and workshop series), being hosted by Work In Skateboarding & Collegiate Skate Tour. As a personal project and as an experience, I was stoked. Karl Watson moderated the panel consisting of Kim Woozy, Shawn Connolly, Andrew Cannon, Matt Irving, and Jerry Harris. Everyone in attendance was attentive, eager, and focused, as skaters, filmers, photographers, and of many other roles. Pizza, beer, and coconut water washed down a healthy serving of knowledge, served with a dessert of great conversation afterward.

Following the panel at the Media Center, I drove to a good friend’s house. JB Chapman, friend from high school and college, was hosting Chloe and I that weekend. But he was also hosting Melissa and Donovan, friends of ours who had spent July 4th weekend with us in LA just a week prior. We enjoyed beer and wine, puzzles and dancing, stories and jokes, until late into the night. I had a skate contest to run early the next day, so we slept through a bit of the night to wake up to a beautiful Berkeley morning.

The Collegiate Skate Tour contest was the first in the SF Bay area, and I was amped. Of course, we got a bit of a late start, and I was more than ready for a coffee, but we got to Town Park in Oakland and had a day of it. The skaters and spectators alike were stoked! The weather was beautiful, sun shining, and energy levels high for the day. There were some major ups and downs. Sick tricks got thrown down, and crazy bails were witnessed. The event was a wrap, and we had hooked all the kids up with some swag, ready to head out when… the locals hijacked the speaker system. All in good fun, without conflict, because we were having fun dancing with them for hours after the contest had finished. I finally got to skate, K Dub and the boys were dancing like we were at a wedding, and smiles were all around. Raney Beres stopped in for the session, and all the kids were either dancing or skating. When the trap music started, we knew it was a party, but when "the electric slide" came on, we knew we weren’t close to stopping. A few brews and lots of laughs happened.

When we finally got out of there, Chloe and I went to a beer garden for a much-needed refuel (food as well as beers). The feeling of the food in belly was like heaven, and then we headed back up to Berkeley to meet up with our other friends again. We arrived, tired and very sunburnt, to find that they had all gone into the city (SF) for the evening. Much too tired, we decided to stay in at the house and watch surf film with the other roommates. Thanks again to all the roommates for being so chill and welcoming for an entire weekend! Watching the Championship Tour surfing, drinking wine, and puzzling was a nice way to chill out from the long hot day.

The next day, following a wonderful morning of window breeze, vegan pizza, and front porch dancing, we all decided to go sailing in the bay. Something I had not done since I was a child, sailing sounded very appealing to me. It was a perfect 77 degrees on the bay, with an obvious breeze and a cloudless sunny sky. Perfect for boating, specifically sailing. Never had a I seen views of the Bay Bridge, the Berkeley tower, the SF skyline, and Golden Gate Bridge all at once. And even better, from a bobbing boat in the cool waters of the SF Bay. JB, Chris, Donovan, Melissa, Chloe, and David. The crew. We challenged ourselves and treated ourselves. Learning how to set up the gennaker was a rewarding task. Drinking cold beer on a warm day was relaxing. Moments like those, when there’s nothing more to do than this and that and chill. Those are the days we all need more of.

Fast forward.

Back at the house, post-sailing mission, we all sat down for a wholesome pasta dinner. Gluten-free goodness, topped with a nice sauce and garlic bread to match. A tasty experience was much needed after another long day in the sun. Post-dinner puzzling was intense. Visits from the neighbors were mellow. All in all, a killer Sunday, and the next day was set to be another one.

First half of the day was a work day. Calls and emails - necessary. After wrapping up the stuff you don’t wanna hear about, Chloe and I headed into the city. Across the bridge, once we had a coffee in the cupholder, we went to meet up with our friend David. We drove through SF to a nice exploring area, at Land’s End. the view of the Golden Gate Bridge was rad, the Sutro Baths were amazing, and the rock faces of the cliffside ocean front were astounding. After walking through a cave, the three of us ventured past the suggested “go no further” gate and down into the rocky crags for some ocean-sprayed climbing. It’s amazing how we were the only ones willing to hop the fence (there were no signs forbidding anything) and have some fun on our own. The adventure didn’t stop. Up the hill and into the woods, we found a nice little skate spot - historic actually. Fort Miley has these embankments (skate nerds know) that have been made known as a famous skate spot. Many things have been done on them by some of my favorite skaters, so it was nice to have a few runs on it (I brought the board along). A bit more urban exploring led us to find old prison cells underneath and inside the bunker of the fort. There was an eerie yet peaceful vibe to that place, and I actually get a lot of that from the entire city of San Francisco. When looking at the time, we decided it was probably a good time to go get dinner before driving through the night back south to LA.

David, Chloe & I went to a perfect little Taqueria named Los Farolito’s. They have delicious burritos and quesadillas, both of which I enjoyed. A perfect way to end a trip to SF: eat Mexican in the Mission. And so that’s what we did. And that was our journey.

Another SF trip in the books, another great few stories to be told. And more great people met and experienced. So stoked to have gone with my incredible girlfriend and have shown her a few different sides of the bay. Next trip is a full-on skate trip, so watch for that. But every experience is uncovering something wonderful. Grateful for the opportunities. The time. The life.

 - 7Ply Epic

As we crawled through the thick smothering forest of southern Oregon, the inherent beauty surrounding us inspired me to pull out my journal and do some writing. The increasingly elusive writing by hand. Because I never use a writing “utensil” to do my writing, my hand quickly cramped and I figured I’d just enjoy the damn view and write about it at a later time.

I apologize for the lack of posting. Life has overtaken writing recently, and I can't decide how happy or sad I am about that. I only know that it is happening, and it's the current state of my life.

So here I am, again on an airplane, this time headed to Boston, MA. And I sit right here, recalling the moment (on our second day of our great little road trip) when we left Crater Lake National Park for the northern border of California. Crater Lake is one of the "8 American Wonders” and the deepest American lake, caused by a unique volcanic eruption years ago. The beautiful blue waters were perfectly complemented by the land features and distinct islands found scattered across the lake. There was plenty of snow on the ground, and falling, which made me wonder how the weather conditions are in the winter.. But nonetheless absolutely stunning. I’m stoked that we got to visit Crater Lake, especially because Chloe canvased neighborhoods on behalf of Environment Oregon to help preserve the lake and its region that is being slowly deteriorated by the logging industry in the Northwest US. It was eye-opening to see the effects firsthand yet was also a phenomenal start to our five-day trek down the coast.

En route to California, we stopped in Klamath Falls, home to one of the more recognizable concrete skateparks in the Northwest. Being a complete skate nerd, I was beyond excited to session it, even if only for ten minutes. The locals were nice, and the transitions were gnarly, but there were lots of fun little things (and big things) to hit at the park. The rain eventually came, and we made our way along to a coffee shop to refuel and enjoy each other. We once again hit the road and made sure to load up a few podcasts for the trek. We eventually stopped in a tiny little town called Weed, CA. Weed was less than impressive as a town, but lovely in the fact that it is so close to Mt. Shasta. Weed, CA might not have a cool SnapChat filter to match its amusing name, but it's not far from one of the most amazing looking mountains I’ve ever seen. Many miles from the base of the mountain, one could see the behemoth of a geographic feature from all angles and with utmost intensity that is so difficult to describe in words. Shasta was definitely the widest mountain I think I’ve seen in person, and it just keeps going. The highway seems to wrap around it over and over again when you’ve only done about 35 degrees of the perimeter. Chloe bought me a keychain that says “I ❤️ Weed,” and we were outta there, headed further south.

At that stop, we simply got a snack and a coffee at the truck stop. Took our pisses and stretched out our thighs. But the night before we’d had a much different experience stopping for food. When we decided to alter our plans to stop at a hotel, there was a this tiny, woodsy, slightly sketchy-looking hotel with a restaurant across the street. There were signs that said “hotel check-in across the street,” so we hesitantly made our way there. Once at the restaurant, we realize that they don’t always get so much business. It was slow. They were closing soon. And the guy that checked us in to the hotel was also our server and bartender, in addition to his apparent role of single parent. Good people trying to make a living in southern Oregon. Deep in the Cascades, living on tourist dollars, and we were happy to pay a pretty modest amount for a room for the night. The cherry on top was the rustic pool table that we found at their bar, along with way too much Marilyn Monroe memorabilia that looked like it had been there since the 1960s. The following morning, a standard American breakfast was served for $6/plate, and we hit the road, content as could be.

Fast forwarding to our epic in CA, we’re driving through windy mountain roads in the Shasta-Trinity National Forest. It’s past 4 pm, so the sun is delicately filtered through the limbs of leaves of the trees in the forest. Light trickles in to our windshield and the road ahead, and the trip through those mountains was truly mystical. Thoroughly enjoying our time together and some damn good jams, we keep driving until a solid rain starts up again. Caused by the unfriendly precipitation, we decide to stop at a charming campground just past a huge mural of Sasquatch. The grounds are perfect. About 12-14 sites, each with a good bit of privacy. We drink a six-pack of local brew and indulge in Oregon-purchased cannabis as we dive into a deep yet playful conversations about life as the stars begin to take over as our main source of light. However, most of the night was damp with rain, a pitter patter of rain drop on the tent fly being a plus for us.

The next morning, we woke up to a beautiful sunny morning and headed to a “secret” spot recommended to us by our campground keeper. The fog (clouds) were becoming more intrusive as we went further up the hill, so for time’s sake we turned around before the summit. But we did find a car, obviously after some sort of traffic accident down the hillside with its windows busted out and lots of items left behind in haste. It made me wonder what had happened and at the same time reminded us both to be careful while driving on the windy roads through the NorCal forest. Shit gets real. But god is it beautiful out there. We stopped at a few more view points and made a straight shot out of there for the coast. First stop: Arcata, CA.

Arcata is where I saw my first Redwood trees, and I was stoked on that experience as well. It’s really not so much the size of the trees (although that is quite impressive) as it is the texture and character of them that caught my fancy. Redwoods have a mystic nature and appeal to them that is unique to any other tree I’ve seen or touched. Forests full of them immediately made me feel like I was in a movie, and when you’re walking through the woods you’ll periodically hear the a heavy creak of one of the trees, as if it were trying to communicate. The voice is felt, and the Redwoods are very alive. In preparation for hitting the highway yet again, I wanted to get my legs moving, so we stopped briefly at the Arcata Skatepark, The park was essentially a crusty old concrete park consisting of snake runs and windy bowls without coping. But that was perfect for a roadside carve! And then it was off to Eureka...

Eureka, California is one of those places that I feel like I know even though I’d never been there. It sort of reminded me of a small town in the Thousand Islands region of New York, but with salt water instead of fresh and also real bums. Lots of cool art & chill people from my experience. But also with enough industry and opportunity to fuel the economy of a small city in the state of CA. We dined at Nooner Café, which was a true gem (take notes!), and went onward. At the gas station pre-next-leg-of-the-trip, Chloe and I met a man not far from us in age that needed help with bus ticket to see his mother in Santa Rosa, and so we helped him with a small sum and later learned that he grew up in Cary,  a town very close to her hometown and not very far from mine. Small world! And good vibes...

Meanwhile, on the road south to wine country… Our goal was to find a nice campground in or around Napa Valley, the heart of the famed wine country that made our bucket list. We drove in the direction of Napa, almost to Santa Rosa, admiring each and every vineyard along the way. Which is a lot. The green expanse of wine production is pretty unbelievable at first, but I can both understand and am jealous of those that grew up within that. It’s such a great lifestyle to live: sustainable living, growing food, celebrating spirits, and leading a quietly rewarding life. It was a nice place to spend time as a couple, and the plan was to find a place to pitch a tent, but all the campgrounds were booked out. We probably should have known that, after doing some research, but hey. We got jipped. So we decided to drive to the coast in search of campgrounds more available. Although there was rain the whole way, we had a merry old time driving through the night storm to Bodega Bay.

Waking up at beautiful Bodega Bay was a real treat. We were in a campground without a view of the ocean, but as soon as we packed up camp and walked off a slight hangover, we made our way to the 1. Highway 1. And in this region, its stunning views of the Pacific from abrupt cliffs. Lots of wild gulls and other bird species were around to grace us in our time soaking in the view. Bodega and the entire surrounding area is a beautiful one but also a beautiful community. The whole region kind of reminded me of the scenery from the movie, Moonrise Kingdom (if it took place on the Pacific Ocean).

The plan for the day was to spend a bit of time in San Francisco and head onward, as far as possible, toward Big Sur. Chloe had never experienced any of the city that is San Francisco. But the circumstances were prime, because I’d never had the experience of driving over the Golden Gate Bridge, which was an essential part of our day’s route. The winding road coming up to the bridge revealed some of the best views of the city I’ve seen. The magical San Francisco skyline remains nestled between hillsides and the bridge leading to Oakland, periodically peeking through, as if to say, “hello, traveler.” The drive across the bridge was impressive still, but I think seeing it from other perspectives is a bit more powerful. There’s a reason why no one sends post cards of the view from on the bridge…  We proceeded to a nice viewpoint of the bay. Right near Baker Beach, there are several lookout points and romantic nooks that many don’t know the city contains. Standing there, with the 80 degree weather and light breeze wasn’t quite surreal but unquestionably calming and rewarding after over 1,000 miles of driving in 3 days. Further down the hills toward the water, we walked to Battery Crosby, a famous skate spot as well as a great view point for tourists of all types. With an unmatched view of the bridge from the west, a phenomenal perspective of the bay, and a flawless natural bank spot for skating, it just doesn’t get better in my book.

Every moment in San Francisco was soaked in like a happy, sunny sponge. And although we were only there for 2 or 3 hours, we made a true experience out of it. Now, onward to Big Sur!

As expected, we did have to deal with a bit of traffic down the peninsula and south to San José, before going further on to meet with Carmel and even further, the untouched Pacific cliffs often talked about as if only a myth. Almost immediately after passing through the southern suburbs of Carmel, CA, we started to witness some the most impressive oceanic coves we’d seen so far (or ever in our lives). This may sound like the beautiful broken records you’ve heard from previous traveler friends, but that stretch of coastline really is majestic in the truest sense of the word. The stark, yet tantalizing, contrast of the grey and brown cliffs and the icy blue Pacific waters was unlike anything I’d ever seen (given travel all over the US west coast, Peru, Mexico, and Canada. The sheer size of the vertical drop to the water is something that can’t be touched in any location I’ve witnessed. Simply something you need to witness for yourself, the Pacific coast has some the finest gems I’ve shared with Mother Nature.

As we should have known, camping in that area was completely booked, and no breaks were given. We couldn’t find any campground with an opening within 50 miles, so we made the decision to risk ticketing and pitched a tent, cliffside. Chloe spotted a cozy little natural nook between a grove of trees and a wooded drop-off leading down to the expanse of ocean. Although our view of the ocean was challenged by the trees of the cliffside, we were still able to wake up to a partial view of the ocean. At night, we settled in to our tent porch with a bottle of wine and six pack of local beer. Deep conversation is made much easier with conscious lubricant of a bit of alcohol and view of the almost-full moon. many good times were had on the trip, before, during and after that night just south of Big Sur, and I’m infinitely grateful for all of it.

When we woke up to no police officer, we were stoked to say the least. We decided to keep driving south, as we needed to be “home” by the end of the day. So we hit the road, stopping occasionally at “vista pt”s along the road as we cruised along it. Each one more beautiful in its own way. when hunger hit, as it inevitably does, we stopped in a sleepy little town called Cambria for a deli sandwich and chips. Taking our time and taking in sun, we got back in the car. When we were cruising south with the windows down, Chloe’s driving, I spotted a beach full of seals to the our right. FULL of seals. So many that I couldn’t believe my eyes and sort of thought they were rocks or sand bags on the shore. Many of them weren’t moving.

We promptly pulled over to admire the masses of elephant seals that were molting on the warm beach. A knowledgeable volunteer filled us in on the situation with Elephant Seals and how they visit this area of the coast to molt away their “baby” skin and hit puberty in a safe place among themselves. These particular seals can hold their breath  for up to 2 hours and dive as deeply as 2 miles to kill and gather food in the far out Pacific. It was so interesting to learn of this unique species, watch them fight, play and sleep, and simply admire tribal and instinctual behavior in nature at work. And, they had funny faces. So there was that.

Further onward, the 1 South went inland a bit. For about an hour, we were back in the hills until we approached Cayucos. This picturesque town is built around a bay. A big bright blue bay with a humongous rock at the tip of one of its peninsulas which facilitates a sort of Jurassic Park ambiance. Truly amazing and perhaps breath-taking, we still needed to make it to LA County by nightfall. So we kept it moving all the way to Santa Barbara. SB is a beautiful town on the south-facing coast of Santa Barbara County that embraces all of the positive of Los Angeles without any of the negative. If San Diego were a bit more green. If Los Angeles were a bit more chill. If Eugene were on the beach. Stopping through there, even if only for gas and food, was nice. But then the heat hit...

I had totally forgotten that there was a heat wave forecasted almost perfectly to meet our arrival in Highland Park. And unfortunately for us, there was no working air conditioning in the SUV we inhabited. Windows down in slow traffic was what consumed our souls for the last hour of our long journey. The highways turned into lonely dirt paths, the street signs into somber signals, and the gas station marquees into mere mirages. Just kidding. We eventually did make it home, then immediately unloaded the UHaul, making for a sweaty evening, but it all worked out, and we had finally arrived home.

The typical sweaty hot move-in day mixed with the relief of homecoming nicely. We hung out with the other two roommates, catching up and hydrating appropriately. But with big smiles on our faces. For we knew that this was one of many more big adventures and just one of many many more kitchen conversations in this new home. Southern California is the current status. It might not be home forever, but then again nowhere really is. On this epic.

Excited to report more stories of times ahead... Berkeley this weekend.

 - 7Ply Epic