His training officer was also an avid photographer, and taught Bill to carry his camera equipment around in the squad car.
He sets up his desktop Mac on the dining table and scours the internet for places he may want to photograph and, thanks to a variety of apps and tools, figure out a time to be there as well.īill’s “hobby” began when he was a young police officer. “I normally try to start my day figuring out if I’ll be staying put in a particular area and-if so-what kind of photographic opportunities present themselves to me.” “While she’s on the trail, I can spread out in the Bay Star,” Bill says. While Nana hikes, Bill splits his time between finding a place where the road intersects with the trail to provide her support, and finding his own sites for photography. A retired Sheriff’s Sergeant from California, he’s now a semi-professional photographer (though he very humbly calls himself an amateur).
“We’re actually going to go solar,” Nana adds, “so we can be out longer and not have to worry about firing up a generator just to make coffee in the morning.”īill doesn’t take his support role lightly, but that’s not to say he doesn’t enjoy his own time out in the desert-or anywhere else they happen to be.
“And it’s well-suited insulation-wise for changes in temperature, or we can still run the furnace or fans. When you’re off pavement-away from a traditional camping site, like we often are-you can still get a nice, level rig,” Bill says. “This rig is easy for me as an individual to handle. But for now, it’s about setting up a welcoming site for Nana. She’ll use this as an opportunity to clean up, rest, restock, and refuel. Nana will enjoy a “zero” day-one where she doesn’t hike any miles. Hence why Bill is setting up Moose, the nickname for their Bay Star, to boondock in the desert. A year ago, the COVID-19 pandemic pulled her and her “tramily” (a portmanteau of trail and family) off the trail when they had just about 450 miles left. Now, she’s out to finish the Arizona Trail, which clocks in around 800 miles. “I’ve done the Tahoe Rim Trail (170 miles), the Tahoe Yosemite Trail (186 miles), the John Muir Trail (211 miles), the Pacific Crest Trail (a whopping 2,653 miles), the Alta Via 1 in Italy (150 kilometers), and three Caminos: the Camino Frances (800 kilometers), the Camino Del Norte (865 kilometers), and the Camino Portugues (380 kilometers),” she says. Nana’s completed thru-hikes add up to more distance than many may go in a road trip-and she’s done all of this on her own two legs. Ever since, she’s pushed herself farther and farther, and her list of achievements is nothing less than astonishing. It turned me into a thru-hiker,” Nana says. “I started at eight years old, at a camp in Yosemite. Of course, this isn’t her first go at this. She gets an easy four strides in between each click-clack, click-clack of her extendable hiking poles. Going up or down-let alone on flats-she practically glides along the path, precarious rocks or not. And forget about keeping up with her on a trail. She’s a source of endless energy and moves seamlessly from one task to another.
Nana’s trail nickname is Pinball, and after spending about ten minutes with her, you can understand why. She’s been on the trail for about five days, and he’s meeting her this evening at a trailhead. He’s prepping for Nana’s return tonight, where she’ll briefly stop off the trail. He levels it, gets the slides out, and sets up a little patio area. The Bay Star is a 2018, brilliant black and gold, and shining in the desert sun.