The Woods Don't Care About Your Follower Count

Let me describe something I witnessed last spring at a trailhead in the Trinity Alps that has been living rent-free in my head ever since, like a bad country song you can't unhum. A woman (maybe twenty-eight, hair professionally tousled in the way that takes forty-five minutes) climbed out of a bone-white Sprinter van with a ring light strapped to a gorilla pod and a camera guy who, I kid you not, was wearing a safari vest with the tags still on it. She walked approximately thirty feet from...

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