Those of you who followed the SP Kennel Dog Log know that I had a fantastic -- amazing! -- time in Alaska. Living through the cold, dark and sometimes brutal winter conditions, bonding with a large pack of truly extraordinary sled dogs and working with exceptional people were all very powerful and highly rewarding experiences for me. From the moment I arrived until the end of the racing season, it was non-stop, fast-paced and intense. I loved it.
When we returned to the Kennel from our Post-Iditarod mushing adventure in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, I was astonished at the transformation. What had been a vast landscape of white, hard-packed snow only a few days before had suddenly become an expanse of boggy ground and muddy roads. The dogs were quite happy to be laying out in the sun on top of their houses, but for us humans it was a struggle to just walk around and downright treacherous to drive. Nature had once again given me a very clear signal: My "winter expedition" was over and it was time to move on.
I spent a few days wrapping up odds and ends, packing up my gear, closing up my cozy cabin and saying goodbye to all my human friends in Two Rivers. I had intended to go through the dog yard and give each of my canine friends a farewell hug, but by the time I had visited with Teddy, ChaCha, Stella and Happy... Well, I was a mess and could barely manage a wave at the rest of them before getting in my car and driving to the airport. If you've every had trouble saying good-bye to a dog, try to imagine parting with sixty of them. Ugh.
I flew straight to Seattle and hit the ground running with all of the stuff I usually do when I check in there: Catch up with old friends, meet with long-time clients and take care of personal business. Mostly, though, I spent time thinking about, planning and putting into action my next expedition.
Over the winter I had received a number of really wonderful invitations from friends all around the world to visit them this summer and beyond. Because I had such a great experience circumnavigating the surface of the earth on The Voyage, I was strongly tempted to send out affirmative RSVPs and do it again. I realized, however, that I just wasn't in the right "space" to do so.
You may recall that right on the heels of completing The Voyage, I spent last summer helping my parents move off their farm. This was a necessary and successful endeavor, but it was also hard on me both physically and emotionally. My winter in Alaska was also highly rewarding, but it too was physically demanding and emotionally draining. I just didn't feel like I was ready to head back out into the world at large and deal with the challenges of long-term, international travel. I know I sometimes make it look easy, but you have to know that it's not.
So, I set the parameters for my next expedition to be a little less demanding and a little smaller in geographic scope. As you all know, these are "interesting" times with lots of things are in flux: economically, politically and socially. As a scientist I am intrigued by systems under pressure. As a philosopher I am inspired by stimulus and response. As an explorer I am compelled to go take a look for myself.
As a result, I have decided to hit the road... Literally! I have put together the "road rig" you see here and set out on a new expedition. My plan -- insofar as I have one -- is to explore the cultural topography of North America. My premise is that "interesting" times of flux provoke vastly different stimulus and response among a large population across a vast land mass. With this rig I have assembled the capability to pursue my premise wherever it leads me.

As a first step, I've headed east on US Highway 2, starting right at its very beginning just north of Seattle. US-2 is the northernmost highway in the country and -- except for an interruption at the Great Lakes -- it continues clear across the continent to New Brunswick, Canada. US-2 is also known as "The Hi-Line" and you may recall that my friend Greg joined me for a few days as we drove just a small part of it during the early days of The Voyage. I was intrigued by it then, and am confident now that traveling its length will be a good first leg of my expedition.
I do not know what I will find, how long it will take or what I will do along the way. I do not know whether I will actually travel the highway's entire length, nor what route I will take whenever I leave it. In the true spirit of exploration, I don't know anything about what lies ahead. I don't even know what I don't know.
Something else I don't know is whether or not I will publish any kind of website for this expedition. Producing content and maintaining a website requires a lot of time and effort, often to the detriment of the exploration itself. My experience with this website has been that in exchange for all I have put into it, I have received very, very little in return. I'm not going to rant about this, but out of the tens of thousands of people who have consumed the content on this site -- many of whom have returned repeatedly -- fewer than a dozen have ever sent me as much as a couple of bucks to buy myself a cup of coffee or a sandwich. The internet is a classic "free-rider problem" about which I already know enough and am not inspired to repeat the experiment.
Nevertheless, my personal mission is "to explore the world, live by my wits and report my findings." Thus, although I strongly doubt you're going to get any kind of "daily grind" logbook from my current expedition, it is inevitable that I will create some kind of content along the way and post it somewhere. Perhaps here, perhaps on my YouTube channel, or perhaps on some small, simple new website. So, if you are interested, make sure your links and feeds are up to date and stay tuned!
From somewhere on US Highway 2 heading east...
Macgellan