Thirty Five Millimeter | Nashville

This is the second roll I shot during our ride up the East Coast. After picking up our bikes in Daytona Beach, FL, we rode north to Savanna, GA for a night, and then on to ATL where we stayed for a few, visiting our friend and jeweler, Steve West. From Hotlanta we traveled Birmingham, AL to kick it with my old friend and former Cold Track Days photographer, Raymond, and also to visit the famed Motorsport Museum. All of that is included in this post. After Bham we made our way north to Nashville, TN for hot chicken and some honky-tonk shit. Memories from our time in Music City are pictured below.

Beau Geste

A film I must have seen a million times. Most influential in my life. Tragic, and yet wildly inspiring.

A State of Blindness

"Apparently we live a good portion of our lives in a state of blindness, our brain enforcing minuscule moments of obscurity as our eyes scan the world around us. Evolution’s logic seemingly that were we to see every single moment as clearly as we do when we settle upon focus, we’d either be perpetually sea sick or our heads would explode from all the information."

- Toddy Stewart (of The Endless Bummer)


Thirty Five Millimeter | Daytona to ATL

For whatever reason, I've overlooked a great deal of images I shot during the twilight hours of summer in 2016, when my father, Kyra and myself rode a trio of Indian Motorcycles from Daytona Beach, FL to Lebanon, NJ. Kyra wrote about our trip for RideApart, using a few photos taken by the both of us. But like a lot of our adventures, I dragged along something more archaic - in this case, a 'Safari Green' Yashica T4 and a half-dozen rolls of film. This is the first roll. I'll get around to posting the remaining five. Promise.


I could say an awful lot about all this. Bruce, his films, their influence.

But we all know how important he was and they are.

So just enjoy this.


Ramblin' Man

What I've been listening to lately...



Note: This post was written in May of 2015 while I was living in Japan.

I'm on an elevated train leaving Tokyo. Surrounding me on all sides are young men and women, staring straight down, with one hand holding onto the safety circles that hang from the ceiling. Why, I wonder? Perhaps some kind of shame system developed during the rice paper wall period? Keep quiet because everyone can hear everything? No, they're just staring at their screens. Cell phones, tablets and handheld gaming devices occupy the palms of almost everyone. They glance up only to make sure they haven't missed their stop. The rest of the train's occupants are older, and they're asleep in their seats. A sign of the times, I suppose. And yet here I stand, phone and face in the same position as everyone else, getting things done with what little down time I have today. It's essential, this connectedness. One can shun the convenience of modern technology, run to their 'cabin in the woods' and get all Thoreau on us. But let's be honest, in order to succeed in society these days, one must swallow the proverbial pill. And that's alright.

You see, I've been “on the road” for more than a year now - travelling in my converted cargo van up and down the west coast of the United States, then travelling into Baja aboard my dual-sport motorcycle for more than a month, and now I’m traversing Asia, riding motorcycles, surfing and exploring for the next few months. This could not happen, however, without the availability of Internet. I am considered a journalist by most conventional standards. I participate, document and debate a range of subjects, centering primarily around surfing and adventure motorcycling. I am also a "social media manager," a job title new to the working world, and one that wouldn't exist if it weren't for the Internet. It is a job title that, unlike all of my previous employments within corporate America, allows me to wander aimlessly around the world, working whenever and wherever the Internet is available.

I peer over the shoulder of the person pressed against me - a young woman of ripe working age. She's typing feverishly in Facebook Messenger. Then she adds an image on Instagram and reads what I assume to be a blog post about some kind of beauty product, given the pictures. I, on the other hand, am hammering out a story I've been commissioned to write about the importance of the Internet, and how it allows me to travel freely and yet still maintain an income level at or above where I'd be if I were stuck Stateside. An hour later, I exit the train with what feels like eight hundred other people, take the escalator up, and make my way back to my friend's house in Fussa where I'll be staying for the next few months. Parked outside his front door is the motorcycle I've rented. Inside is the surfboard I've borrowed. And upstairs is my laptop, which, like a pair of pistols strapped to the side of some 20th century gunfighter, pays my bills. Without it, I'd be riding desks not dual-sports for the foreseeable future. I think Thoreau would understand.


Log Rap

A post shared by Log Rap (@lograp) on

If you don't know, you're welcome...


The Trials & Tribulations of a Millennial Nomad

It had been raining for days, maybe weeks. We were in Seattle where I grew up, where my father still resides. We were parked in front of his apartment on a narrow street, lined with cars on one side and apartments overlooking Lake Union on the other. Our van, a 2008 Ford Econoline E-150, was sandwiched between an orange VW Beetle and something silver and sedan-like. It was cold. It was wet. It was October. And we had been in the city for far too long.

Living in a van, or out of one in our case, is a romantic idea to many Millennials. Traveling here and there, making a living off the Internet, parking at picturesque campgrounds, overlooking the ocean, or on great swatches of land, where your lady can do yoga and you can brew up a cup of freshly ground coffee on your camp stove. At least that’s what Instagram tells us #vanlife is all about. But I’m here to tell you about the harsh realities of living this nomadic life, when it’s no longer a “journey” and instead just life, lived in a van, maybe down by a river.

Read my thoughts on Expedition Portal (LINK).


Perpetual Motion

Days have turned to weeks, weeks into months, and eventually months have formed years. We're in 'Perpetual Motion,' and our new series will highlight the people we meet, lessons we learn and the experiences we share along the way. Stay tuned for additional info!

K.O. | 2017 OIFF 'Best Action Short Film'

"Intrepid lovers ride their motorcycles through the deep forests of the Pacific Northwest in search of adventure, but what they find may be more than they can handle."

Last Fall, WESTx1000 joined filmmaker Ron Sacdalan in the woods of Washington’s Olympic Peninsula to ride dual-sports, search for Big Foot and make a short sci-fi motorcycle movie. Nearly a year later, the Oregon Independent Film Festival (OIFF) has taken notice and named it ‘Best Action Short Film.’


Five Rolls, Four Countries, Three Months...

Five rolls of 35mm film shot in four countries over the course of three months... There's a bit of everything; an Italian SUV in the Alps, a cocaine palace in Puerto PeƱasco, pet pigs, dick doodles at dinner, the Ducati museum, classic cars in Verona, et al. If you're interested, you can seen more film photographs that Kyra and I have taken over the years on this Tumblr thing.