Tully MacKay-Tisbert

I watch a bear from the window, gracefully and powerfully descending the hill and later another sauntering serenely up the slopes of tundra.  There is such peace in those movements that they make the chaos inside the bus all but…

Held by the fire and my guitar, I stayed awake too long.  We talked with some campers whose friends, scared of the local bear turned in early wanting to leave in the morning.  I crawled in the camper shell of…

Every night lately, out walking the dog I’m drawn in to gazing up at Mars. Much to her frustration I stop every couple of minutes and look up. While I contemplate the celestial, her preference is to sniff the gutter—I…

I met up with Robert in Lone Pine and we drove up to Tuolumne from there.  I had never been to Yosemite before and so I looked out at the night wondering what new views may be hidden.  We bivied…

After a few beers and a hearty lunch, Mike and I set off up the North Fork of Big Pine Creek Trail.  Our objective was the 5.7 Swiss Arête of Mount Sill—or Nenimish, Guardian of the Valley.  Shirtless, with a…

Our camp was an idyllic oasis by a softly running creek under quaking aspens and sleep continued to tempt me with its warm comfort, but it was time to go and I freed myself from its grasp.  I set off…

Camped at Lower Red Lake, I rolled around in my sleeping bag after vivid but now forgotten dreams. My watch read 2:00 am and I relaxed deeply at the notion of two more hours of sleep before braving the cold…