ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thoughts.

To the people of Jasper, Alberta. To the park rangers who let a stranger carry lumber and didn't ask why. To the woman and her wife from Saskatoon who handed me a beer at Wapiti Campground, knew I was lying about where I was from, and handed it over anyway. To the town of Jasper which burned in the summer of 2024 and is still standing. Jasper is not a place. It is a disposition. It will outlast the fire and probably most of us too.

To John. The elderly owner of the Whiskey Jack bar in Jasper who sat me down, looked me dead in the eye, and told me exactly where every wildlife hub was on one condition. That I came back with photos and stories. That is the most honest transaction I have ever been a part of and I have been a part of some transactions. John if you are reading this I kept my word.

To the people of Canada who don't ask many questions. Who sized me up at the border and decided I was probably fine. I do not know exactly what fine means to a Canadian border agent but I will take it. You gave me a second home without making a production of it. That is a very Canadian thing to do and I mean that as the highest possible compliment.

To the crowd at the Stand Easy bar in Jasper who cheered when I said I was from Bozeman. A kid from Utah playing Karma Police in Alberta and the room deciding that was enough to belong. Music does that. It always has. It got there before the rest of us and it will be there after we are gone.

To the Kluane First Nation whose ancestral territory contains some of the most staggering wilderness on this continent. The land in No Brand was yours long before it had a name on any map and will be yours long after. That is not a footnote. That is the whole story.

To the people of Alaska. To the rangers and wardens and trail crews and SAR teams who maintain six million acres so that broke college kids can rent Uhauls and follow grizzly tracks to rivers that have never seen a human being. You did not ask for us. We showed up anyway. Thank you for pulling us out when necessary and not making us feel too stupid about it. You mostly succeeded and that is all any of us can ask.

To the people of rural Montana who know the difference between a person who has been somewhere and a person who has seen a photograph of it. That difference matters. They know it in their bones.

To Parks Canada. To the United States National Park Service. To every grizzled park ranger who has sat through a mandatory orientation and maintained their composure longer than any reasonable person should be expected to. You are underpaid and the bears do not appreciate you enough and I mean both of those things sincerely.

To the professors at Montana State University who lit a fire when it would have been easier to let it go out. They showed up anyway. I appreciate that more than I probably let on. The grades reflect it. That part is true.

To the bartender at the 98 Hotel in Whitehorse who needed someone to listen at 1am and got a twenty year old accidentally swallowing Copenhagen long cut who had nowhere better to be. To the French Canadians in Kootenay who didn't speak much English and honestly that was fine because we were all saying the same thing anyway. To everyone who shared a campfire or a road or a river with a stranger and didn't ask for anything in return. You are the whole point.

To the management at Gibson Guitar who understood that true grit is not something you put in a manual. It is something you pass down in the room, in the work, in the standard you hold and hand to the person next to you whether they asked for it or not. I asked for it. I am grateful it was given. Alright, alright, alright.

To the friends who pointed me toward the lesser roads when I would have taken the easy ones. This work carries their fingerprints even where their names don't appear.

The lesser roads are not just geographic. They never were. They are the music that finds you in a bar in a country that isn't yours and makes the room cheer anyway. The art that stops a stranger in a gallery longer than they planned. The coworkers and the campfires and the classrooms where someone decided you were worth the fight. The conversations that happen in the back of a Uhaul at Riley Creek under a sky with zero light pollution. The beers that cost two dollars and fifty dollars simultaneously. You find your people on the lesser roads. Every time.

Human connection bypasses flags. It always has. A person from Utah walked into places where nobody knew what to make of him and was fed and helped and occasionally pulled out of situations he had no business being in. That is not luck. That is what happens when people recognize something real in each other regardless of where they were born or what their government is doing that week.

To my dad who first put me in the presence of wild things and taught me the land deserves more than we give it. He planted something that took root in directions neither of us expected. I think he is still figuring out how he feels about that and honestly so am I.

To my mom who taught me kindness to strangers even when it wasn't deserved and undying loyalty to the people you love no matter the cost. Every beer accepted from a stranger, every campfire shared with someone I'd never met, every bartender listened to at 1am. That was her doing. She taught me before I knew I was learning it. She would like it on record that she had nothing to do with the Copenhagen. That is fair.

To Hadassa who kept me walking in the right direction at -36F without knowing she was doing it.

To Django who goes everywhere now because he doesn't have a say in the matter and also because he is the best thing I have and has never once judged me for anything which is more grace than I have deserved on multiple occasions. Good boy.

To Grey's family for letting him be part of this.

To Grey.

And to the lesser roads in all parts of life that give us a home to be who we want. Thank You.