The Dirtbag Database

I. The Enchantments 

June 24, 2024 – Leavenworth, WA

The Enchantments through-hike in the eastern Cascade mountains is a legendary eighteen miles of raw, high alpine wilderness. At the trailhead 13 miles deep into dense Pacific Northwest forest from the little town of Leavenworth, WA, I started at sunrise. Morning light cut through the trees in gold slats. The trail was soft beneath my feet, pine-scented and damp.

The last half-mile of the climb out of the woods hit hard a steep scramble to a ridgeline. And then I saw it:

Colchuck Lake.

Glassy and blue like something out of a dream, resting beneath the jagged, snow-covered face of Mt. Colchuck.

To the left of the mountain? A steep, snow-choked chute called Asgard’s Pass, a cruel stretch of rock and ice that guards the gates of The Enchantments. Beyond it lies a series of alpine lakes so pure, so tranquil, it almost feels like they aren’t meant to be found. 

I followed the trail skirting along the rocky shores of the lake that made a perfect mirror for the sky to the base of the chute. I cinched down the straps on my pack, took a deep breath, and started climbing.

The granite boulders were unforgiving, shifting beneath me as I picked a route that skirted patches of snow and ice. Higher and higher I climbed, the lake and forest falling away beneath me. 

I remember thinking as I climbed it’d be cool to see a mountain goat. I’d spent most of my life in California, I’d never seen one. I knew they roamed the Cascades, but I didn’t know where or when I’d see one. I didn’t expect it.

Then, near the top, I crested a rise and found a small meadow tucked into the slope.

And there he was.

A full-grown male goat, thick white coat, staring at me like he’d been waiting. We locked eyes. I took a seat in the grass, heart pounding, and watched as he calmly chewed wildflowers. Behind him stretched the endless peaks of the Cascades.

For a few minutes, we just existed, two creatures from different worlds, strangely at peace. I felt something in me settle. For the first time in a long while, I knew I was exactly where I needed to be.

I left my new friend and climbed the final few hundred feet. When I crested the pass, the world opened up.

Below me, a string of alpine lakes glowed in shades of turquoise, teal, and glacier blue. Some were still holding patches of ice. Tiny waterfalls threaded down from pool to pool. The place looked less like a hike and more like a page torn from a fairytale.

That was mile six. Twelve more to go. But the worst of the climbing was done. Ahead lay a slow descent through one of the most beautiful stretches of wilderness I’ve ever seen.

I wandered for six hours among those high lakes, each one with its own jewel tone shade of blue, its own quiet. The silence in the valleys between the ancient peaks wasn’t just around me, I found it within me.

Back in the sunny coastal town of Santa Barbara, my life had been a blur of noise and movement. Here, it was finally still. The voice in my head no longer had to scream to be heard. I could breathe again.

The air tasted clean, thin, cold. It bit at my chest and made me feel alive. Present. Real.

As the trail wound lower, patches of snow gave way to exposed granite, and then to thick evergreen forest. Some parts of the descent were rough, narrow sections of trail carved into rock, where rusted rebar served as footholds from years ago. But my body just moved. Step by step. Thought by thought.

And somewhere in those miles, I started to process everything I’d been dragging with me, the pain, the guilt, the running. I thought of the people I loved. The people who hurt me. The ones who taught me. I began to let go, not with bitterness but with a strange sense of gratitude.

For the first time in a long while, I felt found. Not just on the right path, but on my path.

The forest deepened. The trail turned to hard-packed dirt. Tall firs replaced snowy crags. My legs ached, my shoulders burned, my water bottle ran dry. I smelled like salt and dirt and sun, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t in a hurry. I had nowhere to be fast.

The sun dipped low behind the peaks, shadows stretched long across the trail. I rounded a bend and finally saw it: a glimpse of the parking lot far below. Just a half-mile of steep switchbacks stood between me and the end. But the pain was gone. My feet, my shoulders, even my heart, numbed by beauty, worn down by clarity.

In that final stretch, I realized I’d found what I’d been looking for all along, not a person, not a place, but a feeling. Something open, and infinite.

The open sky.

And miles upon miles of trail unknown.

I hit the parking lot floating. Fin was there, waiting with a burger, fries, and an ice-cold root beer. I devoured it all in seconds. It was the best thing I’d ever tasted.

He drove me back to the trailhead where I’d parked fifteen hours earlier. The day had been so full, so heavy with meaning, it felt like I’d been gone for days.

I climbed into my truck, turned the key, and rumbled back to our cabin. Took a quick shower. Collapsed into bed.

That night, I slept better than I had in a long, long time.

Not just because I’d hiked 18 miles through the Enchantments, 

But because somewhere in that wilderness, I remembered who I was.

In the stillness that followed, memories began to surface. There was a time, not long before, when life looked very different, louder, faster, messier. A chapter I hadn’t yet made peace with. And before I could move forward, I had to look back.

II.  The Backseat Circus

December 10th, 2023 – Santa Barbara, CA

Sunlight cut through the blinds in sharp, dusty rays. I was flat on my back, staring at the popcorn ceiling with bloodshot eyes. Head pounding, I felt empty, drained. Another late night, third, fourth, maybe fifth in a row. Who’s counting anymore?

The clock read 10:24. I groaned. Another literature lecture missed.

I peeled myself out of bed and shuffled into the cramped kitchen of the apartment I shared with four other guys. Still wrecked from the night before, beer cans and Solo cups cluttered the counters. I started a pot of black coffee, I leaned up against the counter and held my head in my hands listening to the tired coffee pot, hiss drip-drip. As soon as the coffee was finished I dropped a few ice cubes into my mug, and downed it fast like medicine.

I slipped on my flip-flops, grabbed my longboard and coasted down the steep hill behind our building. At the beach, I stripped off my shirt and walked into the Pacific. The water was cold and refreshing. I dove under. Salt stung my lips, cleared my sinuses, and dragged me back to the present.

There weren’t many people out, just a few older folks walking their dogs and one or two sunbathers soaking up the morning rays. I floated on my back, watching the sky blur into the blue of the ocean, and the Santa Ynez mountains towering like a mirage behind the city.

I needed to shake the fog from my head. The hangover, and the disassociated feeling that came with it. I let the cold sink in until I could breathe again.

After a while, I pulled myself out and sat on a patch of grass near the shore, longboard under me, salt drying on my skin. I felt beat up, but by now I was used to it. The ocean always seemed to rinse me clean.

I skated downtown to my favorite taqueria and ordered a burrito stuffed with carnitas, rice, beans, and guac, chased with a cold Coke from a glass bottle.

Ding. My phone lit up.

Rae: “Hey, you wanna come with Sofia and me to Malibu?”

I grinned. I wasn’t slowing down anytime soon, and frankly, I didn’t want to. Sure, I was burning the wick at both ends, but at least I was having fun. I texted back:

“Sounds like a plan, When are we going?”

Rae: “We’ll pick you up in 30.”

I scarfed the rest of the burrito, crushed the Coke, and skated hard back uphill. On the way, I called Frizzy.

“Get yourself ready, partner, we’re goin’ to Malibu.”

Frizzy was always down. If the plan was wild, he was already lacing his shoes.

Back at the apartment, he was throwing on an old t-shirt and stuffing swim trunks into a bag. I grabbed some sunglasses and my longboard. We heard the thump of the bass from Sofia’s SUV before we saw it, we ran out the door and jumped in the back as the girls pulled up. Sofia threw it in reverse and peeled out. 

“Long time no see,” I joked, even though we’d spent the last four nights getting tangled up in the same mess of parties.

Sofia glanced back from behind a pair of shades. I could see a glint in her eye like the sun reflecting off broken glass. “I knew you just couldn’t say no.”

I rolled my eyes and elbowed Frizzy. “Here we are, in the backseat again.”

We called ourselves the Backseat Circus; myself, Frizzy, Rae, and Sofia. Always on the move. Always in over our heads. Never in control.

Frizzy and I had become inseparable since we met just months prior, brothers in chaos. Rae, though, was the glue. Cool-headed, quick-witted. She could shoot a look that made you think twice, and she was usually the one who reminded us to pack a jacket, drink water, or not jump off cliffs just because it looked fun.

Sofia? She was wild. Chaos behind a pair of amber eyes. There was something about her, untamed, intoxicating. I’d never met anyone like her. Sofia had this way of pulling you into her orbit, all wind and fire and motion, and by the time you realized you were in too deep, your feet were already off the ground.

We bombed south on the PCH, windows down, music up. The ocean stretched to our right, endless and glittering, the mountains of Malibu rising up to our left. We turned inland at a sign that read:

“Winding Road Next 7 Miles.”

I watched a grin creep across Sofia’s face. Her hands tightened on the wheel. I heard the engine growl.

“Oh boy,” Rae muttered from the front seat, bracing herself.

She floored it. We careened up the winding mountain road, tires screaming around switchbacks, music blasting. Frizzy and I leaned out the back windows, wind rushing through our hair.

Eventually, she pulled off at a lookout with a panoramic view, The Pacific stretching west, Channel Islands floating on the horizon, hills rolling east. We jumped out, the engine of SUV ticked as it cooled, adrenaline still buzzing through our veins.

I grabbed the longboards from the trunk. Sofia and I sprinted barefoot to the top of a hill, boards tucked under our arms.

The sun hit her eyes just right, turning them to that amber color I know I could never forget. She wore a long earth-toned skirt that whipped in the wind. I was in jorts, sunburnt and smiling like a fool. I was falling in love, fast.

I savored the silent moments with Sofia, time slowed down. It always felt like being in the eye of the storm, just her and I while the world howled around us. 

In a low voice, I said, “moments like these… I never want them to end.”

”Then don’t blink.” Sofia said with a smirk

She jumped up “You ready?” I smiled, I didn’t have a choice.

We pushed off, hand in hand, carving wide turns into the smooth tarmac, weaving back and forth through beams of golden light. The wheels hummed. The wind howled. I could feel the world fall away.

When we skidded to a stop back at the car, Frizzy looked at me with wide eyes, grinning.

“That was so fu*king sick, dude!”

We piled back in and raced downhill toward the coast to catch the sunset. At the beach, we sat on warm rocks as the sky turned to fire. Frizzy passed around a couple cigarettes. The waves crashed just below us. Rae stared out at the water and said softly, “It’s nice to slow down for a moment.”

Letting her words sink in, we all sat quiet for a second.

Sofia leaned into me, and I wrapped an arm around her. The ocean roared. The storm in my head from the morning had calmed, and all that was left was this moment. This crew. Her.

When the sky faded to black, we piled into the SUV again and headed north, back to Santa Barbara, to pour drinks, to make another night worth remembering.

The ocean breeze still lingered on my skin, the amber light of that Malibu sunset etched behind my closed eyes. I could still feel the wild energy between us the way time slowed, the world narrowed down to just her and I. Those moments felt infinite, like the calm before a storm I couldn’t yet see coming.

But love is never just calm seas. It’s the crashing waves that shape us.

III. The Road’s Call

May 4, 2024 – Mt. Whitney, CA

“We’re not gonna make it. We need to get off this mountain.”

Fifteen hours of hiking clung to my voice like lead. I looked at Shaun and Kenneth. No one argued. Just slow, solemn nods.

There we were, staring up at the tallest peak in the lower 48, less than a thousand feet below the summit, and we had to turn back. Crushed doesn’t cover it. But with altitude sickness setting in, water running low, and a blizzard swelling on the horizon, turning around wasn’t just the right choice, it was the only one.

Months of training. Gear we could barely afford. Permits we scraped by to win. All that led to this: a brutal 10-mile descent from 14,000 feet in 18-degree weather, faces whipped by 50 mph wind like icy needles. Every step on the blinding snow made my head pound, a churn in my gut, a test of will. But something stronger than survival pushed me forward, her.

I hadn’t seen Sofia in three months, not since she left for Florence. While I froze on Whitney’s slopes, she had made it  back to Santa Barbara. I thought of her a hundred times a day. We met under diamond stars, and the flame caught fast. Burned hot. Maybe too hot. Before she left, we talked of living together. And while she was away, I became the man I wanted her to come home to.

That day we made it off the mountain. My jacket was shredded, my hair wild, my body trashed. I spotted the car and called out “shotgun!” like a kid. That hell of a hike faded into the rearview. All I could think of was her.

May 4, 2024 – 21:00 – Santa Barbara, CA

I told the guys to drop me at Sofia’s place. I didn’t care how I looked, or smelled. I just needed to see her. I ran to her door. She came out, radiant, and for a moment I forgot everything. I held her like I was afraid she’d vanish. Because I was.

That night blurred like a fever dream. The way she smelled. The sound of her laugh. Her amber eyes. I’d made it home.

May 5, 2024 – Santa Barbara, CA

I woke early and made her breakfast, avocado toast, her favorite. Drove it over to her place, heart pounding. It was spring, the sun was out, and I should’ve felt on top of the world. But my gut was tight. Twisted. And I’ve never known my gut to lie.

Later that day, Sofia and I lay in a field of tall grass, the kind of place that makes you feel like time can’t touch you. We caught up on the months apart. But something was off. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. I tried to tell myself it was jet lag. I prayed it was jet lag.

Then she said it: “We need to talk.”

We waited. Tried to hold on to the moment before the storm.

Later, in her kitchen, we sat across from each other. I knew what was coming, and still, it hit like a train.

“Two days before I left Italy,” she began, “I met someone.”

Each word carved into me. She told me everything. How it happened. How she fell in love, with a stranger, days before coming home. I was wrecked.

I reached for a bottle of gin, poured a glass. It didn’t touch the pain. Just numbed the edges.

I kissed her anyway. Took the back of her head in my palm and whispered, “I love you,” like it might change something. It didn’t.

That night unraveled into chaos. I drank too much, cried harder than I ever had. Begged her to see me. To come back. My best friend, good old Frizzy showed up just in time and got me out of there.

May 6, 2024 – Santa Barbara, CA

I woke up hollow. Hungover. Haunted. The worst part wasn’t what she’d done, it was that I should’ve known better. I’d ignored the signs, sold myself on a dream.

I spent most of the day in silence. Couldn’t work. Could barely breathe. Later, I texted her.

“Hey, could you come to the coffee shop today?”

She showed up early in my shift. I had a love letter I wrote during her first weeks abroad, slipped it into her pocket like it was something sacred.

“I’ll wait for you,” I said, and kissed her. One last time. I knew it then. That was the end.

That evening, my friends invited me out to a jazz club. I passed. I needed solitude. I went down to the beach.

I sat in the sand as the cold Pacific lapped at my toes. Dug my hands into the earth, stared at the setting sun until my eyes teared. I let the tears fall, quiet at first, then uncontrollably. My body shook. I cried until my nose bled, until there was nothing left inside me. No anger. No love. Just silence.

I stood, wiped my face, and walked to my truck. Fired up the engine and peeled out. The road blurred under my wheels. I wasn’t driving to her, I was driving away.

Thirty seconds from her place, I called.

“Hey, could you come outside?”

She did. I stepped out of the truck, cold as steel.

“I’m sorry. I told you I’d wait, but I can’t. I won’t. You’ve hurt me too deeply. I gave you the best of me, and you threw it away. I wish you the best. Goodbye, Sofia.”

Before she could say a word, I was gone. The last thing I saw was her back as she turned and slammed the gate behind her.

Over the next month, I lived like a ghost in Santa Barbara. Cut her off. Cut everyone off. Worked my shifts, wandered alone at night. I had no place to live come fall, no reason to stay. I knew I had to get out.

Get far out.

That’s when I remembered Fin’s offer. A seasonal job in Washington. Decent pay. Free housing. A reset. Fin is a childhood friend, someone I knew I could count on for a good time, a brother; I told him I’d head up early June.

June 12, 2024 – San Luis Obispo, CA

Vroom.

My truck fired up. Odometer read 169,431. The trunk was packed full with anything I could think of that might come in handy, I didn’t know how long I’d be gone, or what I would come to face. I was leaving everything behind, and rolling toward something unknown.

Road noise is therapy. Pavement hums beneath rubber and hours pass like water slipping through cracks. My first day on the road, I drove 14 hours straight, landing in Corvallis, Oregon, where I crashed in a sketchy parking lot I definitely wasn’t supposed to be in. Slept like a baby.

June 13, 2024 – Corvallis, OR

Next morning, I met up with an old friend, childhood neighbor. We drank coffee for hours, traded stories. That chat lit something inside me:

I have people in my life rooting for me. And it’s on me to leave a damn good story in my wake.

Recharged, I hit the road.

June 13 2024, – 17:00 – Bellingham, WA

Seven hours later I was in Bellingham, Washington. The sun poured through the trees like gold. I linked up with Fin. Swam in waterfalls. Hiked mossy trails. Reunited with an old friend where the forest meets the sea.

Those days felt like a dream. Then came Leavenworth.

June 15, 2024 – Leavenworth, WA

Fin and I pulled into town around noon. A kitschy Bavarian village tucked into the teeth of the Cascades. Our cabin was falling apart, but the mountains made up for it.

We explored them all summer.