A dog, a van and a photographer sending real letters from the road.

Become a Fellow Traveler

Fellow Travelers Receive Real Mail Every Month:

An Envelope In Your Mailbox

Once a month, Fellow Travelers find a stamped oversized envelope in the mailbox. Inside is something tangible in a world that increasingly lives behind screens.

A printed Letter

Inside you'll find a signed heartfelt letter sharing the places Molly and I discover, the beautiful light and wrong turns, and what it feels like to move slowly through the world with a curious puppy who believes every dog, every human, and every trail was made for her.

A Photo Post Card

A photographic postcard featuring an original image from our travels — something you can mail to a friend, pin to a wall, tuck into a favorite book, or....

And along the way...

During the month I randomly and occasionally post short notes and photos on my Substack so you can keep in touch. You can subscribe for free.

Subscribe free

Become A Fellow Traveler

Fellow Travelers get real mail every month. My intention is to create something personal and meaningful — a small moment of beauty you can hold in your hand. I’d love to have you along for the journey.

$9 / month $90 / year

Behind every good story is a dog.

I'm an award-winning landscape and wildlife photographer. Over the past year, a lot has changed. I stopped selling my art through two galleries. I built a campervan by hand. (Well… it’s still not completely finished, but it works.) We adopted a puppy named Molly. While I loved seeing my photographs hanging on someone’s wall, I didn’t love the grind of galleries or the shallow pace of online life. I wanted a more personal way to share my work — something slower, more thoughtful, more human. That’s really what the campervan was about from the beginning: the freedom to chase a sunset, stop for fog on a river at dawn, or pull over in the middle of nowhere because the light suddenly became extraordinary. And now I have my canine companion to help me explore. Some days the photographs happen. Some days they don’t. But the journey always does.