Wow, over 12,000 views in 12 days—our shared journal (69 participants) is a "little" hit! Thanks to everyone, first to the contributors but also to the readers. If you're one of the silent readers, don’t hesitate to jump in—you’re more than welcome. Don’t be intimidated by the stunning photos from some (a very special shout-out to Jean Luc, who makes us dream) or the experience—or even expertise—of others, who, despite having crisscrossed the West far and wide, still discover new things, as these lands seem like endless reservoirs of surprises and beauty.
We’ve all expressed our love for the American West through photos. Here’s another one, and I’ll add a few words to explain why I chose it. First, here it is: This photo was taken on the day we arrived in San Francisco, at Embarcadero. The weather was gorgeous, we were tired, but so happy, so ALIVE, a bit like those young people.

ALIVE
My husband and I came to the American West in May 2016 under special circumstances. In November 2014, we had to embark on a long journey through hospitals, between chemotherapy and radiation therapy. Death was looming over us; my husband was fighting for his life, and I was giving him all the energy and love I could muster. In those moments, thinking about future trips for the two of us was one of my coping mechanisms. In the end, we had science and luck on our side... but we were drained, exhausted, like we’d been hollowed out.
We needed to get back out there, to start again, and the American West felt like the obvious choice: a fountain of youth and a return to childhood (the mythology of the West), wide-open spaces, and nearly infinite horizons...
So of course, we saw everything through rose-tinted glasses—and that’s a good thing!