Swami’s, D St., Grandview, Seaside, Ponto, 17th St. Huntington, 19th St. Newport, and of course good ole Trestles. Places near and dear to my heart. I took up surfing when I was about 12 and back in the 70’s…
A white whisper of snow dusted the sandstone buttes of the Lukachukai mountains that are sacred to our people the Dineh´. Franz and I had come out to the Navajo Reservation for a whirlwind tour to visit family out on…
The blend of deep rust brushed with streaks of ocher right out of mother nature’s iron oxide paintbox were striking against the volcanic slopes of the San Juan Mountains. My sister and I made our way slowly along the breathtaking…
The cry of an unfamiliar bird awoke me. Looking out of the motor home I realized that we were not in Austria anymore. My son Stefan and I had flown half way across the world to the remote territory in…
The arid desert landscape changes from the higher elevations of mixed evergreen forest as it slopes down to chaparral terrain until it plunges down to the sandy shores of the Pacific Ocean arriving in America’s Finest City San Diego, California…
An early morning moon lit the Sandia Mountains with a bluish haze as we made our way up the path to glimpse the rising sun. A chilly breeze rustled the golden leaves of the aspen trees and there were traces…
Every year I make my annual migration back to the lands of my Navajo ancestors in the American Southwest. But unlike my brethren before me who emerged from the earth, I prefer the airborne route. As soon as I feel the…