A Thousand Yards Further From the Sun
Climbing sand dunes in Idaho + new zine art inspired by vintage postcards
It’s late afternoon on a Tuesday in early September. The weather is warm and dry and the sun is beating down softly but with great persistence. My eyes are fixated on dry farm fields in the distance, my mind imagining the Oregon border somewhere out on the horizon, its exact coordinates obscured by thick layers of smoke pushing north from the California wildfires.
At this moment, I’m preparing to sprint down the face of one of the largest sand dunes in the state of Idaho, quickly debating whether I should chart out a safe path to the bottom or say ‘screw it’ and descend in a full-blown nosedive. I know in my head that the latter is the only viable option.
I glance over at my friend Jake for a final nod of approval before we take off. We survey the scenery from our post one last time, looking out over the rolling hills of Bruneau Dunes State Park for a final mental picture before returning our attention to the sand beneath us. At the base of the dune, our friend Paul, already having completed his vertical dash of doom, cups his hands to his mouth and shouts out with encouragement — “Send it!” — to get us going.
“Ready?” Jake says. I sigh in acknowledgment and anticipation. “Yep.”
Simultaneously, we launch ourselves down the face of the dune at breakneck speed. Our first few steps feel like slow motion but within seconds, every bit of our sense and coordination is overtaken by flying sand particles and the droning hum of the wind rushing by our ears. The only thing I can feel are the rapid pats of my feet against the ground.
Thwap-thwap-thwap-thwap. Thwap-thwap-thwap-thwap.
Though I can’t hear a thing, I can sense both Jake and I laughing hysterically. Never in my life had running felt this good.
As we neared the dune’s base, the sandy winds gave way to a cool breeze coming in from the marshes nearby. Both of us were panting like two puppies after playtime. Finally on flat ground, I turned to face the dune from the bottom up. In a fraction of the time it had taken us to reach its peak, we were back where we started — a thousand yards further from the sun.
This excerpt recounts one of the many enriching moments from a brief sojourn to Idaho in the late summer of 2020. With the pandemic still in its early stages, my friend Jake invited me to spend a few days with him and Paul in his hometown of New Plymouth, the place where he was raised and where his family still lives to this day.
In addition to our sand dune excursion, we also managed to squeeze in a one-night backpacking trip into the mountains near Cascade, some of which is documented by way of photos in A Sense of Place. Though brief, our time in the woods was quiet and nourishing. In reflecting back on it, I can clearly recall the peaceful sensations of being immersed in the forest. The quiet morning and the starry night. The rugged hilltops and rocky banks along the lake. The scents and colors of all these things are imprinted upon my mind.
New Zine Art
Cecilia James is a multi-disciplinary artist working in both music and the visual realm. She is hands down one of my favorite singers and songwriters, but she is an equally talented illustrator and graphic designer. A while back, I asked her to create some artwork for A Sense of Place based off some of the material inside the zine. The end result was this pair of amazing graphics, which take inspiration from vintage travel postcards.
Check out Cecilia’s music on all the usual hubs and keep up with her art endeavors via Instagram at @soft.devotion.
Zine News & Updates
Second shipment of physicals is running low but the good news is a third order is already on its way. Shout-out to the kind people at Mixam for their flexibility and communication throughout this whole process. Highly recommend their service for any printing projects you may be working on.
As a reminder, the zine is also available in digital form for free through the good folks at issuu. Grateful to all who have scoped it out. Please feel welcome to share the link far and wide.
That’s a wrap for this round of correspondence. Next newsletter figures to have some more zine-related excerpts, as well as some fun updates on a few new places the book is available for purchase.
Until then, keep on sailing.
A Sense of Place is available for purchase on my personal website. Follow me on Instagram and Twitter for more frequent updates.
“A man is a success if he gets up in the morning and gets to bed at night, and in between he does what he wants to do.”
— Bob Dylan