IT's not normal.

The San Francisco Bay Bridge shrinks ever smaller in the rear view mirrors of the Penske truck, loaded to gills with our fancy apartment possessions. The white, not yellow, Penske truck means its a one way vehicle. That meant we were one way travelers. But I felt more like a pioneer. I'd had the place out in Wonder Valley for almost ten years. It was built as a vacation place for us to hide away from reality, play horseshoes and photograph sunsets. I'd always wanted to be there more often. I was almost embarrassed by my part-time desert life. Now i was going to be there forever. Well, a few months, at least! But forever felt more epic as i hit mile 60 of my slow coach journey south. Disappear forever.

Now, three weeks in, forever doesn't feel like enough time. We're becoming obsessed with a life out in nowhere. In the city we were obsessed with getting to and from work and buying things to put in your house box. Now, we're obsessed with how you LIVE here. Learning everything we can about the landscape, the wildlife, the weather, the noise, the epic sky, the lost-but-found desert crits, the lonely prehistoric hills, the artists, the punks, the cabins and the HISTORY of a place that most will drive through on their way from Las Vegas to LA and wonder "who the hell would live here?". 

Its not normal. But we're done with normal.