MOLESKINE: by Skip Hunt

New Skip Hunt Vagabond: MEXICO 2009 Book Available NOW!

2009-12-14T11:06:00.001-08:00

Oh man! I am SOOOOO happy with out great this book printed! As many of you know, I tend to go for the most saturated and rich coloring in my images which is not always easy to transfer in print. Well, I am pleased to report that the printing is absolutely beautiful! The images just leap off the page.

I bought the soft cover for myself, but I think I would prefer the hard cover on my next ordering. I actually lowered the price on my hard cover options to encourage that choice over the soft cover option, but it looks pretty sweet too.

Likely, I am biased but I’m confident this would make an amazing Holiday gift for yourself or anyone you think would like to take an amazing journey on a motorcycle through Mexico. Think about it, 70+ images and the best of the best journal entries all in one book!

The deadline for ground shipping to get your Skip Hunt Vagabond: MEXICO 2009 book in time for holiday delivery is Dec. 10th.

Order yours today!

Click HERE for preview and ordering

New Interview!

2009-06-15T07:16:00.000-07:00

Did an interview for HomeWorkShop.com (evidently a popular destination for interior designers, and such!) If interested, click HERE

On the Road Again... Soon!

2009-06-10T22:15:00.001-07:00

Getting excited now! Got my new front tire yesterday, and a new chain, new back tire, and new front fork seals a month ago.

Now dealing with the last few days of anxiety about going... always get that for some reason... then after I'm finally "on the road"... anxiety melts away into sublime vagabond Nirvana. Ahhhhhh!!!!

I shot mostly black & white on my last Mexican adventure, but I think I'm going to get back to HOT vivid color (like the Xochimilco image on my first post. Here's one of the b/w images from the last adventure:

NEW! Skip Hunt Vagabond Travelblog here: http://skiphuntvagabond.tumblr.com

Stay Tuned!

Got a new book forsale!

2007-10-10T09:48:00.001-07:00

Skip Hunt | Ph...

Portfolio: Volume One

By Skip Hunt

Book Preview

Sahara ~ Dawn

2006-12-21T06:36:00.000-08:00

“After I learned my Mother had passed away over a pay phone in a chaotic kasbah in Marrakech, Morocco and while fending off very annoying hashish pushers... pesky buggers... I decided not to return home to the States... I didn’t want to listen to everyone asking “are you okay?”... I just wanted to be alone and grieve awhile my own way. I headed South in pretty much a hashish tainted stumbling daze until I got to the edge of the Sahara desert in Merzouga, Morocco. I hired a blue turbaned old man to take me out into the desert by camel to the largest dune he knew of. They’re huge! And it really is awe-inspiring to witness that much simple beauty all at once....

He took me out at dawn to see the first golden rays of daybreak shoot across the sandy ocean. After a couple hours we’d reached the destination and he, along with the camel, lay down for a knap while I began to trudge my way to the top of this gargantuan dune. When I reached the top, it wasn’t quite the break of dawn so I waited while I tried to catch my breath. But... something seemed strange. I didn’t hear any sound. No planes, or wind, or animals, or distant murmurs. Nothing. Silence. Silence, except for my breath. So, I held my breath to experience the silence whilst I waited for the sun to come.... That proved futile as well, because the silence was broken by this muffled thumping sound. At first, I thought “maybe the camel?” But no... I realized it was the sound of my heart beating. About that moment the first rays of daybreak shot out across the desert like golden pipes of light. I was healed! I knew my Mother, and she was right there in front on me... embedded in the beautiful break of day, in my mind, and all around me.“

Near Merzouga, Morocco

Past ~ Perfect ~ Porto

2005-11-07T10:57:00.000-08:00

“Winding slowly through the misty vineyards of Northern Portugal I watch my immediate tear-stained past reform into melancholy memory...

The softening time passages dissolve into rich rustic regret...

I know not where I go, but glare into the fresh pasttime and soak up the last drops of present as the moment nettles into vague warm recollection...

It's so strange how a memory presents itself so differently just moments after it has occurred and then oftentimes sweetly reforms itself into something so much more.

Train from Porto, Portugal to Vila Real.

Cafe ~ Artistes

2005-11-02T07:10:00.000-08:00

“I don't know what is was about Toulousse, France... It really got under my skin. When I remember the little daily details, I recall sidestepping doggy poo every other step... An overabundance of falafel shops... Traffic that appeared to be conducted my some insane maniacal clown...

But there was something light and musical in the air. And, not just the air... it felt like it coursed through the wires... pipes... boulevards... plazas... cafes... and right through my veins. I loved that place! Even though I could barely afford a lone cheese crepe a day and a couple espressos, I was completely content and entranced in my own mental minstrel show every morning in Cafe Artistes...

I can almost taste the rich coffee scented rays cutting through my delirious morning haze!“

Toulousse, France

Darjeeling ~ Monks

2005-10-28T09:51:00.000-07:00

I photographed these young Tibetan monks at a temple near Darjeeling, India. Yeah, the same Darjeeling at the tea. Photos of the grounds and monks were supposed to be prohibited, but the oldest monk in the back of the group, spoke with one of the older monks, then asked me if I would like to take photos. I reluctantly agreed. ;-) And then he also unlocked the main temple for me to photograph the inside. Someone else arrived just after I'd finished shooting and was vehemently denied permission.

I still don't know why they made an exception for me. I didn't even ask. Just enjoyed the moment.

Darjeeling, India

Tavira ~ Portal

2005-10-25T14:29:00.000-07:00

“I've watched you sealed from the inside... and I want to tell you all I've witnessed... All I know...

I've weathered unseen tragedy, and prayed for my eyes to be taken out by some wayward boy...

I rejoiced the end of sight as the first juvenile stone was cast into my shattering eyes, and still I saw...

My embraced the coming decay... my frame rotted and loosed the sockets, and still you insist I go on...

How much more must I view before you let me go?“

Tavira, Portugal

Bower ~ Quiet

2005-10-23T11:21:00.000-07:00

Take me, but let me be...

Wanting your protection from what I do not know...

Ultimately alone in birth as in death...

Just someone to help me get through and remind me I'm not completely alone...

Someone to show me the way...

Someone to walk along with me until I face the last breath and dissolve into the lonley ether...

Someone to keep me quiet in my final chilling storm.

Yucatan, Mexico

Todos ~ Santos

2005-10-22T10:44:00.000-07:00

“It makes me laugh to remember when I was in this little mountain village of Todos Santos, Guatemala... by myself... very little Spanish... and I realized the prices in the local Guatemalan pub were so cheap, I could afford to buy everyone one in the bar 3 or 4 rounds!

These too cats followed me out of the bar and tried to teach me some of their Indian language, but we were all pretty loaded so it was pretty pointless.“

Todos Santos, Guatemala

~ Faith ~

2005-10-21T07:52:00.000-07:00

“Maybe it was the lie... Or, maybe the apathy...

After all, it seemed nothing mattered much any more.

It finally came down to a final choice... either slip away dissolving into the muddled grey ether of insanity.

Or... toss ol' snake eyes and place your bet on faith..."

Notre Dame, Paris

Potted ~ Atman

2005-10-20T07:25:00.000-07:00

“Embedded incognito...

he sits. he waits. he wonders.

For that moment she truly knows atoneness and feels the sinuous molecular womb.

For that moment she knows spirit. Is it she? Or all? Does she actually exhist?

Am I here?
Or, am I there?....
Or, have I always just been everywhere?”

San Sebastian, Spain

~ You Did Your Best ~

2005-10-18T17:42:00.000-07:00

The moment descended unguarded...

She knew the life she'd given love would suffer the same as she...

He faced the hidden fear kept locked away in the attic of childhood...

She left her love to face his fate alone...

And, he wondered why all the love would soon be for not.

Barcelona, Spain

Eiffel ~ Circus

2005-10-15T11:38:00.000-07:00

“The sharp chilled Parisian air tickled my elated senses as I waited for her majesty to alight with thousands of glittering fireflies.

Midnight drew nigh and my pulse quickened. Oh to get just one image that not only shower "her" in all rightful majesty,

but to also share my childish joy as I waited for the Parisian Christmas surprise....

Paris, France

~ Waiting for Godot ~

2005-10-13T10:56:00.000-07:00

“The weight of time has been heavy on these old bones. But, feeling has gone now.

I dream of my final release from this wretched vessel, and of endless rest.

When will the end come? Today? Tomorrow?

Or, will I be waiting for my fateful bride until the end of time?”

Austin, Texas

Fire ~ Ice

2005-10-12T12:31:00.000-07:00

“A cacophony of fire tears at my soul core.

grasping for the gates of the last bastion...

...she shreds the last fabric of being.

until the illusion completely incinerates...

...left only with a solemn icy clarity.

Taken in New Orleans, Louisiana

John & Yoko ~ 2004

2005-10-12T09:36:00.000-07:00

At last a rusty 3rd class Bluebird arrived in a cloud of dry dust. Not too many passengers except a dusty dread-coiffed couple. The young fella looked as if he might be Mexican, but his companion was Japanese.

I generally avoid these types because they're fairly clitant if you don't sport the same rasta uniform. And, they tend to attract the policia.

We arrived in Wadley and the rasta-boy asked me in English, "Is this Wadley?". Couldn't make out the accent, but it sounded Israeli. I confirmed, and said, "See ya 'round... It's a small place.", then bolted for the hacienda of Don Tomas. The camp compound was deserted so Don Tomas helped me remove some piles of metal rod and wood planks that had taken up residence in my preferred larger tin-roofed cinder block room since my last visit. As always, he re-reminded me not to carry peyote into the town and to keep it out of the camp. He advised to just eat it in the desert and you'll have no problems. In the last ten years I'd rarely seen la policia, nor encountered anyone who'd been busted in the desert, but the 3rd party stories were always rampant so I usually heeded the advice. Off I went into the desert, called Wirikuta by the Huichol, to get my first vomit laden "break-in" trip over with. After the first peyote induced bout with severe abdominal distress, I tend to acclimate and can avoid the whole ugly digestive mess on subsequent journeys.

I started out heavier than I should've. Ten plants, but I paid dearly. I won't trouble you with the details, but the ill portion of the excursion lasted 3hrs. After paying my dues, the rest of the evening was quite pleasant. Mescalito finally gave me a break and I was able to drift off into Technicolor dreamland.

The next morning, after I'd stocked up on fresh goat cheese, tomatoes, tortillas, and water the young hippy couple stopped by the compound. They'd also taken a room from Don Tomas, but he'd put them up in the camp closer to the railroad track. A less desirable locale since the train passing feels like a mechanized earth quake every hour or so, but you get used to it.

They introduced themselves and we made a bit of comparative travel small talk. After I realized these were the new arrivals that earlier Don Tomas was asking me if I'd indoctrinate in the harvesting and dining of peyote, I asked if they'd be ready to head off in an hour or so. They seemed nervously thrilled to have an English speaker run them through the ropes as they didn't speak a word of Espanol. We all parted to pack the essentials, ie. a few oranges to choke the plants down, a good knife, water, smokes, etc.

I was a little apprehensive about volunteering to hang with a couple of dread-headed neo flower children, but I'd recently misjudged the character of one alleged American attorney in D.F., so I figured I'd give these two a chance. As the afternoon blazed, and after we'd all made it past the complimentary nausea hump, we built a nice fire and drifted through loose conversational threads as we gazed at occasional stars shooting down from the milky way. I told stories, that looped back into other stories, and they shared as well. Turns out the young fella had spent his 3 years in the Israeli army, had to do a bit of fighting except he said it wasn't much of a fight, "They had rocks, we had guns." The memory seemed to weigh heavy on him and I asked if he'd ever had to kill anyone. I could actually feel the pain in his eyes, and it hurt me to know such a gentle character had to endure such a horrible experience. He said he thought he probably had, but he couldn't be sure. I changed the subject as much for his benefit as mine.

It was a beautiful night and I was sad when they had to move on. I'll miss them, but will look forward to catching up to them one day in India where they now make their home in between trips to Japan to sell handicrafts and jewelry.

Near Wadley, Mexico

Free ~ Range

2005-10-12T07:14:00.000-07:00

“Red had worked the edge for some time. He wondered if the slightest vibrations of passing vehicular monstrosities might be the key, and he soon deduced that eventually he might just rattle himself free from the blackened industrial abys.

Ever so slightly he rattled himself unnoticed for years...

Ever closer... Closer... Closer...

He could smell the sweet sunshine breezes wrangling themselves inbetween the twisted crevaces... See tips of mythic verde life strands flowing freedom as once told by the Iron Elders... Believing the hopeful myth with all his rustic might and with every fiber of his battered being... He longed to know.

One day... he would know the truth... One day... he would bust out of the darkened corrugated hell in a steely fury and into the free range light.”

Austin, Texas

Anticipation ~ Gold

2005-10-11T20:13:00.000-07:00

“Flittering tinge of golden joy as soft rays massage the final hour.

The hour of anticipation and electic anxiety that promises untold delight.

Elated expectation hidden from the main event, IS the main event.

Always lifting spirit higher than the event itself. Be aware of every moment,

and you will awaken to neglected gems of warm enchantment."

10th floor of the Hard Rock Hotel, Las Vegas.

~ Gravity ~

2005-10-11T16:02:00.000-07:00

“Dipped down to touch my reflection... And, saw a reality
much like mine.

As I pondered the reflection, it became more real
than the one I had known...

Until, I realized the mirror was the truth, and my perception...

...was only the valid twin of all I had dreamed.”

Barcelona, Spain

Bird ~ Can’t ~ Fly

2005-10-11T08:08:00.000-07:00

“In futility amidst all needing repair, he tries but just can't get it to work.

Daily, weight is heaved upon his shoulders... Everytime he tries to break free he's met with yet another obstacle.

Chop off his hands, bolt him to the Earth, and gut him...

Yet, he still yearns to fly... To take all into the boundless all... To set us all free...

One day the shackles will finally fall and he'll take us all soaring into the airy
sinuous sea.

Old Foosball Player in Mexico.

~ Fado ~

2005-10-11T07:42:00.000-07:00

“The last rights were given... all was lost.

He'd hoped for a miracle or for the huddled mass to finally awaken from the wicked enchantment.

It was not to be.

And so it went... fluttering and battered... slipping out through shuttered window crack...

Perhaps one day they could finally see. How furious they'd be!

He packed up his rage... folded it carefully, and placed it neatly next to his hope...

He closed the pack and made his way down the darkened passage singing a lone sad melody.”

Coimbra, Portugal

Varanasi ~ Symphony

2005-10-10T18:45:00.000-07:00

“Difficult to describe the fragrance of the burning faithful... a life now a sinuous stream floating delicate above the mother Ganga...

The sandlewood dreams of a lifetime... Perfume for the living as we breath-in the misty remembrance of a precious life... now passed...

Back into the depths of life's soupy stream from whence we came...

Carried along sweetly in Mama's arms until we've finally ended this bitter
sweet journey....

and... return back into Her mystic... Eternal womb.

Dawn on the Ganges in Varanasi, India

Mama’s ~ Canal

2005-10-10T15:13:00.000-07:00

“Drawn toward the glare of life light, I meander in the
amniotic amenity...

Suspended in the liquid of Mama's love is all could ever want. And yet I still yearn for more... for something other...

Overcome by the unknown, I slip through her passage and into the white-hot noise and scream.

I know I'll spend the rest of my life in vain... just trying to get back into the womb.”

Natural steam bath near San Miguel de Allende, Mexico.