Every fall I embark on a road trip. This is not a comfort thing. I sleep in a tent, with a “self-inflating” (haha) mattress. I wake up at 2 a.m. to the sound of bears sniffing my tent. I wake up to moose farting after they decide to bed down next to my tent. A moose’s digestive system it not a pleasant think to wake to from three feet away. It sounds like muffled screaming.

Sometimes I go to California. Or the Northwoods. But most often, my target is Montana and the northwest corner of Wyoming. Places like Yellowstone National Park, Grand Teton National Park, and the Gallatin National Forest. I am drawn to this area because it is not strip malls. The ecosystem also supports grizzly bears, which no other place in the lower 48 really does. They are cantankerous beasts, disliking roads and development. In that way, we are the same.

I do not seek daily showers or pampering. I seek solitude amongst the wild beasts. When I’m in town, I’ll sample the nightlife, maybe stay with friends. But these are usually quick excursions, and it’s back to the national forest.

So why do it? The wild spaces are my church, my religion…things I can touch and see and feel. In my wake I leave unchecked strip malls and a sickly brown haze in the sky. It has to be this way.

Who knows where I’ll end up on this one. Maybe a simple national forest like the Chippewa in Minnesota. Or maybe Olympic National Park in Washington. All that matters is that it’s wild and clean. Because these last places are the actual rare jewels in 2013.

A dryer.