We found some wood and started to fire and dance even though there wasn't any music.

I went to meetings, I wrote the letters, and pretty soon I wasn't alone.

Get out of the truck when you hide in this field with your surfboards.

There's no way there's going to be waves here.

At Patagonia, we are climbers and skiers.

We are surfers and anglers.

We're activists and dreamers.

Stories of the fabric of our share culture and we're proud to sponsor the dirtbag diaries.

Visit us at Patagonia.com

This is how summer days begin.

The engine turns over and negotiate my 93 Toyota pickup out of Seattle towards the day of climbing the mountains.

And this is also how my fall mountain bike rides begin.

And mid-winter powder days and the first warm days of spring.

Yeah, at times, the irony, it can be a little bit hard to ignore.

I'll drive hundreds of miles so that I can exist in this landscape, the void of angry horn blasts and wheezing engines.

The traffic that clogs our towns and cities, I can feel suffocating.

Yet, in order to escape it, what do we do?

We pull out, we signal, and we merge on in.

We become a part of the very thing that we spend our time cursing.

Now, personally, I've always found that I can live with the contradictions because I go crazy without the mountains.

So I drive. That's the solution. I've just always done it that way.

Until now.

...