Something has me reminiscing about the time I drove to the Arctic Circle all the way from Phoenix. My father had just passed away a few months earlier, and I felt so lost. All I knew was that I had to get to the Yukon.
While there, I was lucky to spend a week deep in Tombstone Territorial Park with a few far more talented photographers than I. I wish I wasn’t in the depths of grief then so I could’ve absorbed more of their powers, but nevertheless, it was a blast. I arranged a pizza delivery by helicopter halfway through, ate my weight in wild blueberries, caught wild grayling on the fly, and saw the Northern Lights enough to last my lifetime.
