Temp: Hi mid 70’s, L Mid 50s

Fri - 17JUL26

It’s 5pm and I’m climbing in elevation. 8000ft and counting. I drove through a desolate, grasslandy area of Southwestern Wyoming to reach this mountain complex with an alpine forest surrounding it. Lots of the most beautiful conifers. Complete guess, but I think they might be spruce trees? Their tips are highlighted with the softest, matte blue frosting.

The Medicine Bow Mountains (off in the distance) rise up out of this arid, ‘grasslandy’ terrain.

Driving in from the West, the Medicine Bow Mountains rise up to greet me.

The aforementioned blue tipped trees. Engelmann Spruce.

I came here specifically because it doesn’t have cell signal and the terrain is tough. Washboard roads coming in that has to be the hardest road Green Beetle has ever come up against since I’ve had him. It’s dispersed camping, so people are very well spread out.

I knew the roads got tougher the deeper you went on the road, so I passed a few mediocre camping spots in hopes I could find a camping spot where neither the road and/or any other campsite was visible. I had to double back when I came up against a stretch of road with some gnarly rocks and a steep grade. As I was turning around I looked through a window in the trees and my jaw hit the floor when I saw a bigger than life bull moose in a gorgeous alpine meadow munching on grass. Okay boom, universe let me know it was right to turn around and head back.

Bull Moose in an alpine meadow, Medicine Bow Mtns, Wyoming

As I doubled back, I tried to clear my mind and let my gut make the decision. Selecting a campsite means I’m scouting for a place to be vulnerable. Most of my time at the actual site I’ll be unconscious, a la asleep. So you want to feel safe. The body is better at making a decision like that than the brain.

There was a fire ring not 10 feet off this VERY dusty service rd that I’d passed during my first trip in. I’d noted it away as a possible spot, and it was worst case scenario. The various camping spots were quickly filling up with people and yet this spot was still up for grabs. Probably because it was so close to the road and fully exposed. It sat in a small clearing. I scanned the ground in the clearing, looking for any signs that would indicate the firmness of the ground. All of these natural meadows are where the ice and snow is piled up from Nov - June. The ground is spongy and if wet would most certainly result in Green Beetle and I getting stuck with our worn down A/T tires.

I decided it looked promising enough to investigate. I navigated a small ditch and drove through the spot right off the road, bombing it straight towards the tree line which stood some 150 yds from the National Forest Service Road. I was delighted to find the ground plenty firm enough to handle the rig. Once back there, LO AND BEHOLD, the most pristine camping spot I could’ve ever imagined. There was a natural screen created by the tall, skinny spruce trees. I was completely out of eyesight of any other camping spot, and almost invisible to the road.

I began to nest, deploying all of my gear. Every camping spot dictates a new series of angles and web of ratchet straps and bungee cords. I get to work on setting up camp. I’m finding it hard to settle. I’ve found my spot that I plan to spend the next 5-7 days. Relax Pete.

After getting all setup, I go on a mini hike to scout the all 360 degrees of my perimeter. It’s good to familiarize yourself with your new temporary domain. While checking things out I spook a big animal. I can make it out galloping away. It was dark so I had trouble making out what it was. Either a moose or a deer most definitely. It had the canter of an animal that didn’t want to be seen, but wasn’t scared. I also realized based on its positioning it must’ve been watching me for some time and only bolted when I was about to lay eyes on it.

My number one criteria for choosing what area to go after my 4 days in Cowdrey, Co was lack of cell reception. Since the first time inspiration to travel in this fashion struck, I’ve known a big part of this chapter for me was seclusion and isolation. I LOVE people, and don’t necessarily want to be hermetic, but knew it was necessary to know myself at the depth I want to. Who am I without the sliver of society I belong to? Who am I without interaction with any other human beings in which to somehow compare myself?

There’s also a relationship dynamic I’m juggling. We both agree a mini break is necessary to process where things stand between us. As if I needed anymore encouragement to get outta Dodge.

I scouted out Medicine Bow for its mild July temps and ruggedness. You can imagine my dismay when I heard the ping my phone makes when a text message comes in. No 5G, but i did have one baby’s breath of an LTE bar that would flutter on and off my screen. I would get messages in batches every few hours. Ugh. I considered moving somewhere else but that’d be a few hours drive at least. All i wanted was isolation and now i was still connected to the outside world and all the noise that comes with it.

The rest of the night was uneventful. I sat by the fire until I eventually retreated into my tent to sleep. Moving day was always stressful. I needed the rest.

Temp: 67 degrees and rising

Sun - 9AUG26 9:50am

3 rounds of Wim Hof, a cup of coffee, a few minutes of yoga, and here I sit in a grassy field at the base of a ski slope. It’s early August, so of course no snow anywhere in sight. I’ve been here in Jackson proper for 3 nights now. I’ve been calling it Jackson Hole, but just learned that Jackson is an incorporated town, and ‘Jackson Hole’ refers to a 60 mile area tucked away here in the Tetons. So, Jackson, Wyoming is found within Jackson Hole. Geography lesson over.

For me, this place is an absolute portal. What is a portal you may ask? Anywhere you feel aligned spiritually. What does it mean to be aligned spiritually? Well, that is for you to know. Ask your body, not me. :)

After spending the last 8 years in Nashville, the irony of me washing up on the proverbial shores of another city that is built around a tourism industry that attracts an international audience cosplaying a cowboy lifestyle is...well...ironic. I don’t know, maybe I feel comfortable in these environments. After all, to quote a great song, “I’m the only cowboy in this town”. Okay, probably not, but I did grow up on a ranch in Mississippi. My Tony Lama cowboy boots are about to turn 20 years old, and I once won a live goat at a rodeo. The guy with blisters from his brand new boots he just overpaid for in downtown Jackson can’t say that.

It’s not a competition. Comparison is the thief of all joy. But, the contrast is hard to ignore. I’m stealth camping right across the street from the gondola that goes to the top of the mountain. My head is buzzed and bleached blonde with a green tint from a social experiment in the Ozarks. I’m mostly rocking my signature red lensed glasses, jorts, and Crocs adorned with little decorative ‘jibbitz’ charms that cause most folks to think they belong to the opposite sex.

Despite my appearance, being a cowboy is still very much part of who I am. My grandpa served as the president of the Texas Longhorn Breeders Association of America for much of my adolescence. It’s in my blood. And my blood, sweat, and tears have all been spilled working cows out in the pasture.

So I guess I’m asking myself. What is going on in this town? It’s filled with folks from all over the world dressed up like they’re cowboys and cowgirls. The ‘Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman’ look is quite popular here. I’m not hating, I love to see everyone dress up and embody...even channel the myth of the West. What is it about ‘The West’ that had drawn people for hundreds of years? I’m also drawn by it. I would say even called to it.

This myth, this untold story for each individual, it cuts through the noise so easily. I’m not the only person who hears it. This town is transiently filled with other folks who also came here looking for an essence of something. Consciously or unconsciously. And I am no exception.

Love y’all,

Pete

Yesterday, I woke up in the Black Hills of South Dakota. Today, I woke up in Bridger Teton National Forest. What a life y’all!

View this morning from bed - Bridger-Teton National Forest, Wyoming

The Black Hills was a spontaneous detour. And man oh man, one of the hardest things I’ve ever done is drive into them, stay for 24 hrs, and then have to get back on the road. End of July, I left the Medicine Bow Mountains of SE Wyoming and made a beeline for the Ozarks. I had my annual float trip with the most solid group of guys you can imagine. The trip was exceptional, and I considered sticking around the Ozarks for a week or so after to soak up the beauty, but it was far too hot for me and Green Beetle.

Needles Highway, South Dakota. 5AUG26.

It’s amazing how quickly I’ve acclimated to the climate out west: dry and 5000+ feet of altitude is ah-mazing in July and August. 10/10 would recommend. When I originally decided to rig up my Tacoma for overlanding it was late fall. My heart was set on Sedona, AZ. That was my first major destination. I’ve heard too many folks describe that area as a portal for me to ignore any longer. Santa Fe and Taos, y’all can both get it too. However, the way that life went, I got held up a few times before finally reaching my true jumping off point where I was living out of my truck full-time. So, by the time I took this show on the road, Sedona was far too hot.

**The Tetons enter stage left**

The Tetons took up that headspace that Sedona was filling. Lets not get it twisted though, I will still be doing a grand tour of the Southwest USA, but only after things cool off. So, for well over a month now, I’ve been “heading towards The Tetons”. I almost made it there before I had to turn around and hit up The Ozarks for The Guy’s Trip.

Well, last night I drove all the way to their doorstep. I’m currently within the bounds of the Bridger Teton National Forest. I found an absolute GEM of a (dispersed) camping spot last night. I’ve nicknamed it Weathertop. A mound of rock and dirt rose up about 40 feet and had the telltale signs of a potential camping spot: tire tracks going up the hill, trampled down grass, and what looked like possible a fire pit.

I put Green Beetle in 4wd and we scurried up to the top. Man oh man, what a beautiful view. There is something about being on a high point like that which calms the nervous system. When camping in an urban environment, like a truck stop or interstate rest area, I don’t get great sleep. Ambient noises and late night stereos keep me on edge no matter what I try. But being in a National Forest, out of eye sight of anyone save the herd of Black Angus grazing the sage covered pasture, way up on top of a mini mountain? I slept like a baby last night.

Quick note on wildlife. While cooking dinner last night, a gorgeous Mule Deer buck stepped out to munch some grass. He was too far away to get a good picture but had an admirable rack still completely covered in velvet. Any time I see an animal like that hanging out, I get good vibes. He doesn’t deem me a threat and also is another set of eyes keeping the lookout for bears.

I’m packing up camp and am going to head into Jackson Hole to do some laundry and then go see my fave band in the world play at what I’m expecting to be venue with a breathtaking view. I mean, this will be the first time I’ve taken a gondola to see a concert so I’m big time excited.

I plan to hang out in and around Jackson Hole over the next week or so. If anyone has any recs on things to do in Jackson Hole, Yellowstone, Grand Teton National Park, or the surrounding area please drop me a line!!

Love y’all

Pete

However, your given name can change. I am an example of that.

My first 16 years on this earth I went by Alex. Alex is my original given name. Alex Brand. Then, before I could walk ortalk, less than a year into my life, my name was changed. My mom decided to change my name to Alexander. My first crisis of identity and I don’t even have the ability to use my words to process this change. :) The running joke I started is my parents didn’t think I would be smart enough to spell ‘Alexander’. After 9ish months of slow, but mostly on track development, they decided I would be upgraded from Alex to Alexander.

I was told about this change as a child. If left me with a feeling of impermanence. A name could be changed that easily? I often wondered about what it’d be like if instead of my name changing from Alex to Alexander...what if it had been changed to something altogether different? I manifested a future name change...wind up the clock and let a decade pass...

At the end of Sophomore year of HS my parents split. I was unexpectedly uprooted from the booming metropolis of Dallas, TX to the small community of Beat 4, MS. For my entire life, I spent most summers and major holidays in Mississippi. My grandparents had a ranch there. Oh what a beautiful place for a boy to go to escape. And now because of the pending divorce, I got to live in my favorite place full-time.

I didn’t know anyone there my age. That would quickly change. I was enrolled at Wayne Academy, in the closest city, Waynesboro. This was a small private school in a small town. Think, everyone knows everyone. For context, my graduating class was 24 students. I joined the football team and 2-a-days started a few weeks before the start of the fall semester. Those practices were brutal. South Mississippi is one of the most humid regions in the nation, and temps were topping 100 F. It didn’t bother me a bit though. At least I didn’t show it. I was the “new guy” and had to prove my toughness.

Junior Year of HS. Football photo taken within days of receiving new name. :)

Back to the story at hand: One day while walking from the locker room (a low ceilinged, block building that permanently smelled of sweaty shoulder pads) to the practice field, a new name was bestowed on me. It went down like this:

I was by myself, walking across the asphalt road that separated the practice field from the field house and stadium (if you can call 10 rows of bleachers and a press box a ‘stadium’.

I was a rising Junior. Behind me were two captains of the team, both rising seniors: Jack Wood and Chaz Crane. They were in mid conversation, 10 or so strides behind me. Chaz had been telling Jack about his new puppy he’d gotten. He was a blue pit and Chaz named him Pete. Jack wasn’t really paying attention to what Chaz was saying. His focus was on me, the new guy. Jack interrupted Chaz, saying ‘Hey what did you say his name was again?’. Chaz, annoyed at the interruption said “Pete! I already told you, his name is Pete!” Under his breath Jack said, ‘I could’ve swore it was something else’.

45 minutes later practice was in full swing. The coach had ordered a water break and the guys were jostling for position underneath a 10x10 awning, the only sliver of shade anywhere around. Someone had just tossed me a water bottle when I heard Jack say “Hey Pete, come over here, I want to talk to you.” I paid him no mind, I was still learning everyone’s name and didn’t remember a Pete. The guys standing near Jack said “Who is Pete?!”. Jack, quick to defend himself said “The new guy. Chaz told me earlier his name was Pete”. Chaz corrected him, telling him that was the name of his puppy, and that my name was Alex. Right then some of the Seniors, including Jack and Chaz called an informal tribunal.

They quickly decided that Alex wasn’t going to be my name going forward. They began to chat amongst themselves about what to call me. I became excited. A nickname is a great thing. It typically is a term of endearment, although sometimes they can be cruel. There was already a guy on the team who everyone fondly referred to as ‘Buscuit’. I hope they picked a good name for me. After a short discussion it was narrowed down to Pete or Dallas. I already wasn’t too fond of Dallas. I had just left there and it was a place that held many demons for me at the time. I wasn’t too thrilled about being called the same name as the place my family and I just fled to escape an abusive father.

One of the guy’s spoke up and said “Nah we can’t call him Dallas! The town whore is named Dallas. She goes to County (the only public HS in Wayne County, I was at the only private school) but still, we can’t have two people named Dallas, that’d be too confusing”. I’d later find out that that guy had the hots for Dallas, but the feeling wasn’t mutual. She had thwarted his attempts at courtship and he, being scorned and embarrassed, was trying to start the rumor that she was a skank. (Sorry you’re catching a stray all these years later, Dallas).

The tribunal weighed this new evidence and agreed, Waynesboro was too small for two people named Dallas. From that point forward it was decreed, I would be named Pete. I was elated. There were far worse names considered that day under the awning. We returned to practice, where the guys informed the coaches I was now called Pete.

Now usually, a teacher will kill a nickname. I don’t know why, but they seem to really enjoy calling you by your given name. My home room teacher, Ms. Byrd, never got the chance. Two-a-days were over and the first day of school was upon me. I was the only new student in the Junior class. When taking roll for the first time, Ms. Byrd asked me what my name was. Now, keep in mind this was a small school in Mississippi. Roll was kept in a spiral notebook along with all the grades for the other classes Ms. Byrd taught. She was the English teacher during the day. Her after work job was to do hair for the deceased. That’s right, she specialized in doing women’s hair for the final time. If a loved one died and you wanted to ensure they looked good lying in the casket, you rang up Ms. Byrd.

Before I had the chance to answer Ms. Byrd’s inquiry regarding my name, Kyle Kittrell interjected and said “His name is Pete. Isn’t that right?” peering back at me. I agreed. My name went into the ledger as Pete Willoughby. This same activity repeated for every class the rest of the day. All the teachers had me down in their grade books at Pete. On that day, Alex became a part of my past. The only person who refused to call me Pete was my mother. She used to say, “Pete sounds so redneck!”. Even my uncle and grandpa started calling me Pete.

For the lore: after I’d been given the name Pete, but before the first day of school, the team went to Ellisville, MS to play a 7 on 7 football tournament at Jones County Junior College. We all had practice jerseys with our number. My grandma had taken mine into town and dropped it off at the “Athletic Locker” where my last name was put on the back of my jersey. It’s a long name with lots of letters: Willoughby. For the first time, at the tourney, my teammates found out my last name. Taylor Johnson tells me to turn around after glimpsing the red letters on the white jersey. He said “What in the world is your last name?!”. Jokingly, he ran his finger across all ten letters and sounded it out: “Will da beast?!” So I know had a given first and last name, Pete Wildebeest...except they spelled it ‘Wildabeast’, mostly out of ignorance but I liked it. Years later when I got my first Instagram, it was obvious what my name would be: Pete Wildabeast. :)

For the rest of Highschool, and all my time at the college I attended in NY, and then all my time at Mississippi State, I went by Pete. So for 7+ years the only person who called me Alex was my mother, telemarketers, and the few college professors who never got to know me well enough to learn my ‘real name’.

I needed that nickname during that moment so badly. Alex was the name of the old me. The me I left behind in Dallas. Alex was a victim. Someone who had suffered horrible trauma at the hands and mind of a sick person. Alex was a pastor’s kid. Alex was a name that went hand in hand with an entire world view I inherited. One of hate towards people groups unlike us. People that weren’t Christian. Alex carried ALL the baggage of a 16 year old boy who was overwhelmed with life after moving across the country.

Pete on the other hand… :) Pete was a blank canvas! I had the opportunity, as a teenager, to reinvent myself. Being Pete, and out of my father’s house, I bloomed into a full blown extravert. I still had a lot of trouble fitting in at my school. I didn’t have a thick southern draw, and pulled for Ohio State instead of an SEC team. But I was able to start to find out who I really was for the first time. I’d escaped a extremely oppressive environment. Pete could listen to non-Christian music. Pete was able to watch TV whenever he wanted. Pete could even date girls, something that was expressly forbidden before.

I continued to grow into this person that was the life of the party and was intent on everyone always having a good time. This was integral to who Pete was. It got me into a lot of trouble freshman year of college, but leaning into my new identity helped shape me into the man I am today.

Pete got into the gym. Pete was a meathead. I graduated HS at 145 lbs. By the end of my freshman year I was 205. I joined the rugby team. I learned that I was somewhat attractive. The bit of southern drawl I picked up in MS did absolute wonders in NY where i was my first two years of college.

Rugby Tournament in Baton Rouge, LA. We won the Louisiana State Games.

w/ the Grandparents

I transferred down to Mississippi State where I quickly found the rugby team there. I drove a Kawasaki Ninja. A crotch rocket. I got a job as a bouncer in the Cotton District, the hot spot for night life in Starkville, modeled after the French Quarter. Pete was a renegade, rebel, and lived life on his terms.

I graduated college with a degree in Accounting and a CPA certification. I landed a job as a consultant with the Big 4 accounting firm, EY. Alex was a name that hadn’t completely died. As mentioned before, some professors called me that. The government still called me Alex. Alex was serious and career driven. He was no nonsense, because quite honestly Pete didn’t really have a place in the classroom. Pete was rambunctious and laissez fare. That didn’t quite align with a career as an accountant. So, on the first day of in-office orientation with EY, they asked me if I had any nicknames. Through the recruiting process the partners knew me as Pete. If I were to continue going by Pete, I’d need to fill out formal paperwork declaring an alias. Well, maybe it’s time to leave the Pete identity behind, I thought. It didn’t seem like he had a place in board rooms and international flights to go re-instill the public’s trust in the markets (s/o Sarbanes-Oxley). Besides, all my friends who knew me as Pete would continue calling me that.

So, just like that I started introducing myself as Alex. After years and years of being Pete, I was now Alex, at least during work hours. A story for another time, I didn’t align with working for a massive accounting firm...and thus didn’t align with Alex. Over the last 10 years or so I’ve switched it up depending on environment and who I wanted to be to the person I was meeting. I began to make art during COVID, that was Pete. I got sucked back into the corporate world with stints at a Transaction Advisory Practice and subsequently was a recruiter for the Accounting and Finance industry...that was Alex.

Was I always meant to have two names? I am a Gemini, after all. So I think it was always my destiny. Only in recent years has my astrological sign resonated with the two names. Part of my current story, is learning how to reconcile Alex and Pete. They are both me. I’m thankful for Alex. He has a big, powerful brain and does well with logic. The less gray area, the more Alex can make progress and get shit done.

Pete on the other hand is intuitive, kind, LOVES FUN above all else, and makes room for magic to manifest in his life on a daily basis. These days, I feel much more like Pete than Alex. When I introduce myself now, it’s almost always as Pete. If you’ve met me at a music festival, EDM show, campground, or at a sound bath you met Pete. We love Pete!

Are Pete and Alex masks that I choose to wear? Is it a split personality? Do I codeswitch so much that I’ve named my characters? No, none of that. I believe both are me, and both can serve my interests.

As I prepared for this nomad lifestyle, I had to buildout my truck with a wooden platform, drawers, and accumulate all of the logistical components needed to live off-grid. I also was given the opportunity to demolish a 1000sqft deck and rebuild it. This is partly funding my nomad experiment. Alex did all of that. I can give the reigns over to my analytical, egoic brain whenever I want. But I can’t let him be in control. I start comparing myself to others. I measure my worth based on silly things like $’s in my bank account. Very silly.

In the past year or so I’ve really enjoyed delving into the writings of Carl Jung. Naming the parts of myself comes from my study of Jungian philosophy. You may have heard of your inner self, child self, ego, shadow self, etc. I’ve found it extremely helpful to name and identify my child self, ego, analytical self, and intuitive self. These are not mutually exclusive and can sometimes blend. Part of this nomad experiment for me, involves giving more energy to my intuitive self. This is where the magical, serendipitous moments happen. This is where creativity comes from. This is where one enters the flow state. For me, this is Pete Wildabeast.

So if you’ve been confused because you call me Alex but on socials I’m Pete. Or if it’s inversed and you have only known Pete and are just learning my ‘real name’ is Alex, don’t fret. I’ll always answer to them both. But know that these days I’m embodying Pete. And I’m having the time of my life. :)

Love y’all,

Pete

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Some of my fave photos of Pete :)

Alpha Psi Rodeo, Auburn, Alabama. 2012?

Spring Break, Cozumel, MX. 2014.

Lido Deck Pete, Spring Break. 2014.

Zach Brown Band concert, Atlanta, 2013. With bff Joseph and Da Man.

Summer of ‘13

With baby Kate. 2012?

Yankee Stadium, The Bronx, NYC. ALDS Game 1. Led a contingent of the Corp of Cadets onto the field pre-game with the giant American flag.

Christmas Dinner @ West Point. 2009.

My best friend in highschool, Preston. Probably 2008ish.

In the last 12 months I lost both of my German Shepherds. The first was my soul dog, Kate. While expected, at age 14, her death plunged me into grief I did not know was possible.

After losing Kate in July of ‘25, I felt a new chapter was beginning. Benji was 7yo and I was excited by the prospects of a new career that would allow me to have my hands in the dirt, growing things. 💐

Before I put down roots, literally and metaphorically, I had to follow a calling I’ve been ignoring for a decade. A calling to travel the world.

On the way to work one November morning I unexpectedly decided to put in my two weeks notice. This came from my intuition and I listened. I knew it was now or never and I refused to go the rest of my days harboring resentment towards my unlived life (s/o Jung). The Hero’s Journey was calling me one more time and I wasn’t going to hit decline again (s/o Joseph Campbell). There may not be a call back. So I picked up the phone.

I made arrangements for Benji (my 7 yo GSD) to have care while I went to South America for 6 months of backpacking and working on farms through World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms (WWOOF).

72 hours after my last day of work at Compost Nashville I discovered egg sized lumps around Benji’s throat. After a cytology he was diagnosed with lymphoma. 😭

I had no income, I’d put in my notice with my landlord so was soon to be homeless, and now was faced with losing my second dog in less than 6 months. And that is exactly what happened.

6 months to the day of Kate passing I said goodbye to Benji. Round two with grief. Except this time I also began to feel my identity crumble. My entire adult life I’d been a dog dad. And now, I felt so alone and so vulnerable without my Benji Boy. Unlike Kate who very slowly degraded over years, I watched Benji go from a big, strong, scary (if you didn’t know him) protector to a frail, sickly, shadow of his former self in 30 days. I am confident he died as a result of his own battle with grief from losing Kate. He absolutely worshipped her. She was the emotional cornerstone of our little family. Stoic and so confident. Benji on the other hand came to us with massive amounts of trauma. He was slated for euthanasia by Metro Animal Control in Nashville for his aggression. At the time I was volunteering with Middle Tennessee German Shepherd Rescue, rehabbing the dogs with aggression and behavioral issues. Ironically, I was at a point in my life that I was also working on the manifestation of those same issues in my own life. Through helping Benji, I was able to address those fear-based aspects in my own life.

Fast forward to January of 2026. I’ve lost both of my dogs, will be homeless at the end of the month, have no steady income….but for the first time in my life my soul is also untethered. I still have the call to travel. Except now, rather than 6 months then a return to Benji and my previous life, I have no strings attached.

Fast forward again, this time to the present. It’s Friday, July 17th and I’m currently sitting at a BEAUTIFUL dispersed campsite on a reservoir in Northern Colorado, 5 minutes from the Wyoming border. Ive built out my Toyota Tacoma into a capable adventure vehicle complete with sleeping platform and slid out kitchen, to include RV batteries, solar panels, freezer, refrigerator, and rooftop carrier. I’ve now been living this nomad lifestyle for over a month and have been to Electric Forest in Michigan, built a 750 sqft deck in Mississippi, got sucked back into Nashville’s orbit for a week for an unexpected but welcomed encounter with a beautiful soul, and broke back out of said orbit to travel through Kentucky, Illinois, Missouri, Kansas and then Colorado.

I am a couple weeks into life on the road. My mission? Find out who I am.

Already, the Universe has blown me away through the people I’ve crossed paths with since I made the decision to answer the phone and step out of my comfort zone. I hope to inspire others to put down their masks and break free from whatever is holding them back from being their authentic self. How do I do that? By living my life in a way that I am my authentic self.

I have months of pictures and footage I’m beginning to shape into content I’m excited to share here, as well as other platforms. Follow along and share in my wonderment of the Universe!

Love y’all!!! 🫶

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P.S. Here is a sneak peak of some of my adventures to date. :)

N Colorado - Where I’m sitting while writing this post

NE Colorado - Night Sky

Electric Forest

Forest Fam - Morning of the drive in!

Pike’s Peak, Colorado: Summitted Pike’s Peak w/ the college roomie and his son!

Campsite in NE Kansas

Madison, Mississippi - I built a deck! Bank account infusion, lets go travel!

Atlanta, GA - On a test drive of the truck buildout before setting out for good I stopped in Atlanta to visit my frand Emily. She is a super talented photographer btw Em's Insta

Random Interstate Rest Area somewhere in Alababama: First night in the truck!

More to come!! :)

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