There is a reason why I have not been blogging lately. I have a felt a certain vacuousness, like my brain is a barren and desolate place devoid of any real desire to communicate or express emotion. This feeling was initiated by the harsh realization that I was going to have to leave the Reno-Tahoe area.

I have been operating in some state of denial. Refusing to accept that I would have to say goodbye (for now) to the Sierras, to Tahoe, to Reno, to the West, and to all the friends I have had the pleasure of encountering within these realms. After almost 10 wonderful years of western exploration and experience that I wouldn’t trade for the world, I am heading East to support my wife in a career move that we could not refuse.

Julia was offered a job by the New York Times to head up their online initiatives out of their regional office in Tampa, Florida. It is what she has worked towards all these years, and I am supporting her just as she would do the same for me.

I heard a funny comment yesterday, “Tampa is a place for newlyweds and nearly deads.” Whether or not that is true, I can tell you the highest point in Florida is 250 feet. No mountains, no snow, no big beautiful whitewater rivers. What it does have, which a kayaking friend so eloquently put is, “atmospheric conditions at flood stage.” In other words, high humidity.

I will have to draw balance from the beaches and the water and the practice of discovering new places not yet seen or experienced. Fortunately, I grew up surfing, so I will be making frequent trips to the Atlantic side to try and feed my insatiable outdoor enthusiasm.

The other great positive is that I will be staying on with Twelve Horses. It is a web technology company composed of many smart and connected cohorts who telecommute from all over the globe. I will certainly miss the day-to-day interaction with all of my colleagues in the Reno office, but I suspect that I will be back for business from time to time. Our CEO, David LaPlante even suggested I leave my powder skis at his house.   

Still, it will be hard to fill the void. Even now I am overwhelmed with emotion as I contemplate my impending departure. My house is empty, my car is packed, and 2,800 miles away my wife awaits my arrival.

A picture from my final night in Reno taken in the backyard of what is no longer my house. Aside from the sunset, what else do you immediately notice? Trees. Reno is not a desolate desert devoid of life. It is a place with a subtle charm and beauty and a lot of promise. It has been a great base camp for me, and I will certainly miss it. Goodbye!