The next few days were a blur. It was early August, and the country had a sunny, deep green glow as I drove through the rolling hills of Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, and Nebraska. It was a strange feeling having every new horizon look exactly the same as the one that’s now behind it, yet it was all so new. But if you took the time to slow down and really look at the details between each exit sign you’d quickly discover each little town had it’s own character, charm, and soul. I couldn’t stop now.

My sense of adventure started early. By the time I could walk, my brother and I would trek through our Northeastern suburban forests pushing hard for excitement. To get lost, hopelessly, and being forced to live off the land as best we could. We always found our way home. Much later, I moved to Northern Vermont for college where I turned my weekends hiking into a full blown obsession. I bought myself a cheap camera and started walking. Now I call the forests, rocky outcroppings and wind swept ridges my home. More then ever we need to spread the message that we aren’t separate from these places – they’re in our blood and our history, and with any luck, our future. And I hope to aid in this endeavor through my work by spreading the beauty of this world and the necessity of conservation.

Back to the road. By day 3 I was road worn and ready for some elevation. I left my campsite in Nebraska before the sun came up, antsy with the anticipation of knowing I was only a few hundred miles from the border of Colorado. I drove (sped) through the countryside until I saw it – the big brown sign saying, “Welcome to Colorful Colorado”. I had made it, and it was…not what I expected. It still looked like Nebraska. Nobody told me this. So I kept driving. And driving. For hours. Then, in the mid-day sun beating down 100º heat, I saw them peaking out through the distance – the Rocky Mountains.

I had made it. The next 30 days or so I spent exploring, climbing, camping and having chance encounters with locals and travelers alike, each on their own path. Eventually I settled down, got an apartment and a job just like everyone else. But that month on the road changed me. It was that collection of 2,000 miles and 3/4 of the way across the country that I was able to come up with the name Interstate 80 Production Management. I’m proud to call Denver my home, but I’ll never forget where I came from and where I’m going.

-Tim Senese