The Editor-in-Chief has put roots down in The Golden State. It's time to surf, savor and slide into a new life.

A desperate plea to private boaters. Get your shit together. PLEASE.

After a sustained period without booze, life's been smooth for the EIC.

Loyal drunks and deviants show up to pay their respects to a dying mountain town bar, and attempt to out-motherfucker the man one last time.

The Editor-in-Chief highlights a battle with complex PTSD, and outlines how he's begun to mold nightmares back into dreams.

It's the end of your first season on the river. Now what? Here are a few ideas to keep your head above water.

The Editor-in-Chief earned a Master's Degree in self-sabotage this summer, then decided to send himself back to school.

Just getting into bartending? Welcome! Prepare to bear witness to a world of enabling, depression, severe mental illness, toxic...

Every rookie has their day of destiny. Sometimes it doesn't go so well.

Our Editor-in-Chief is grappling with the inevitable loss of his father. He tries to sort through it with this piece.

Ever get ahead of yourself? Yeah, our Editor-in-Chief has too. This time, it happened during a climbing trip to Zion National Park.

Dust, rubber and chaos. This is a sensory experience.

The EIC lays it all out, explaining why TDL exists, and what our goals and aspirations are. If ambition bothers you, don't read.

In any great river town, there is a dive bar the guides get to call their own. This is the story of the best there ever was.

Our Editor-in-Chief plans to conquer the world. And he's gonna do it with a cold PBR in hand

Just do the right thing. Please. We're begging you.

What if raft guides got to write reviews for their customers?

The government will deny this, but there's evil afoot in the mountains. And it's cold-blooded.

In my early twenties, I was a self-obsessed loser whose primary concern was conning everyone into thinking I was doing well. A friend’s...

I have been locked in a battle of wills with my gastrointestinal system for as long as I can remember. Usually, my bowels win. At 5 years...