EmailPrintOpen Extended ReactionsThere's no way around it. I have to be the first of us to step off this platform suspended high above the Snake River. I've practiced the step -- right foot first, not too big -- but this is different. This time there's 486 feet between me and solid ground.I look down and trace the river's treelined shore to the horizon. I see the spot at the far end of the canyon where Evel Knievel once attempted a historic stunt. Wind whips my hair and puffy jacket. I'm told these are ideal conditions for BASE jumping, but I wouldn't know. I've never done this before.It's Day 3 of my road trip across the American West. For generations, these roads have carried pioneers, inventors, adventurers and daredevils who looked to the horizon and asked, "What lies beyond?"I'm on an 11-day journey to answer that question and the many others it raises. What inspires us to explore? What draws some people past the comfort of the known world and toward the borders of the map? What can we do to expand our own limits?I step off the edge -- and into the unknown.Friday, May 15: The traveling party5 p.m. -- My driveway in Fawnskin, Calif.I've forgotten something. I'm equally certain I've packed too many clothes, brought too much food and piled too many blankets on the bed in the back of our van. But it's time to go. My husband, Billy, and I wave goodbye to our house, and then to our neighborhood and then to the mountain on which we live and begin the three-hour drive to Vegas to watch a motorcycle stuntman push what's possible.We bought this van on Halloween 2020 and retrofitted it ourselves to use as a work vehicle, a transport for our dirt bikes and surfboards and a comfy home on the road. We had so many plans. But this is the first time we've taken a road trip in it to camp and explore the country.Billy is the perfect person to join me on this trip, and not just because his love of driving will provide me with more time to write. He is my favorite travel and adventure partner. He also understands the paradox of the elite action sport athlete as well as anyone. He was a motocross racer and freestyle motocross performer and spent much of his life doing things others might consider crazy. But he would not describe himself as a risk-taker.He's a fabricator and machinist, exacting in his preparation for everything and the type of person who continually scans the world for danger. Pictures of him doing freestyle tricks over 75-foot gaps hang throughout our house. So does a custom trucker hat our friend Missy gave him for his birthday with a patch that reads, "Mr. Safety Shoes."If Billy weren't with me on this trip, I'd be calling him after every major moment, anyway. I'm glad he said yes to coming along and bringing our 12-year-old dachshunds, Gonzo and Hank, with us, too. I hope we packed enough socks.Saturday, May 16: Pushing limits6:15 a.m. -- Flamingo Hotel, room 16007, Las VegasA morning meditation on starting lines: The work is in the rearview.The adventure lies ahead.The finish line is immaterial.Only the road remains.6:30 a.m.A brief history of motorcycle stunts at the Caesars Palace fountains:1966: The fountains are constructed at the hotel's entrance.Nov. 17, 1967: Evel Knievel sees the fountains while in Vegas to watch a title fight and decides to jump them on a motorcycle.Dec. 31, 1967: Knievel jumps a distance of 141 feet across the fountains, crashes and breaks 40 bones (according to Knievel, a man known for requiring an energetic fact check).Sept. 15, 1980: Daredevil Gary Wells recreates Knievel's jump over the fountains, overshoots the landing, crashes into a cement wall and nearly dies.1987: The front entrance to Caesars is redesigned and new fountains are added.April 14, 1989: Robbie Knievel, Evel's youngest son, becomes the first person to jump the fountains and land successfully.May 4, 2006: X Games star Mike Metzger, known as "the Godfather of Freestyle Motocross," backflips the fountains live on ESPN.July 8, 2018: Action sports icon Travis Pastrana jumps the fountains live on the History Channel during "Evel Live," a tribute to Knievel -- he also clears cars and buses -- and breaks three different records with his three jumps.May 17, 2026 (tomorrow): Multitime X Games quarterpipe high-air gold medalist Colby Raha attempts to launch 100 feet above the fountains live on Fuel TV. Raha holds the motorcycle high-air world record of 90 feet.6:54 a.m. -- The garden outside of Caesars Palace, Las Vegas Blvd.Travis Pastrana on records and risk ... "There are two types of people: people who chase wins and people who chase records. One is a journey for yourself, to see what is possible, what can be done. Colby is finding ways to push himself and he's bringing people together. He's finding ways to inspire people. That's something the world is very, very ready for."Evel Knievel said, 'You're never a failure until you fail to get back up.' It was a stupid motto. But I've lived my whole life by it, not minding being hurt, not minding falling, not minding failure, and for a lot of people, seeing someone risk everything because they believe in it is inspiring."7:46 a.m. -- The Fountain of the Gods, Caesars PalaceThe humid morning air smells sickly sweet, a mix of coffee, spilled beer and chlorine. Is this what Evel Knievel smelled the day before he suited up to attempt something no one had ever done?The fountains rush with a rhythmic, soothing flow. Drivers honk. Hotel patrons stumble by, arguing about something that happened last night. A dirt bike revs. Is this what Mike Metzger heard the day before he launched what was, at the time, the longest backflip in history?Travis Pastrana and Colby Raha roll out a bright red carpet. A white stripe splits the black ramp. Cameramen mill about. Security stops a band of looky-loos and turns them around. Is this what Pastrana saw here the day before he etched his name into the record books?Today, anything is possible. Tomorrow's outcome is unknown. What magic.8:19 a.m. -- The steps in front of the fountains at Caesars Palace Colby Raha on attempting what has never been done ... "Record setting is an art, a heroic art, where you have to figure out how to do something that is creative, that hasn't been done before -- which is a task in itself."It takes the type of person who is hard-working and kind of fearless. That's the recipe. I don't get afraid of crashing or breaking bones. Fear doesn't enter my mind. Not because I have to block it out. It just doesn't ... It's more like, how do I do this safely?"You have to be pushing to the point where you almost crash, because that means you couldn't possibly go any higher. I like to push those limits."There's something about inspiring people. People come up to me, and it looks like they have hope. It's a dream to be in this position. It's dangerous, but when you do it right, it's the most rewarding feeling ever, and it's something no one can take away. We have 24 hours to pull this off."Sunday, May 17: Idaho Day8 a.m. -- Picnic table near the Perrine Memorial Bridge, Twin Falls Miles Daisher holds world records for the most unassisted BASE jumps in 24 hours (63), one year (737) and a career (6,000-plus and counting). He spent two years preparing Tom Cruise for his motorcycle BASE jump in "Mission: Impossible -- Dead Reckoning." Two weeks ago, he launched a double gainer off the top of the 450-foot guitar-shaped Hard Rock Hotel in Hollywood, Florida.This morning he's home in Twin Falls, Idaho -- where he lives with his wife, Nikki -- to instruct a group of clients attending his four-day "first jump" course. They arrive carrying BASE gear and coffees and gather at a picnic table near the stairs to the bridge, which spans the Snake River Canyon."At one point, I said I would never BASE jump," says Jay Coleman, a Marine combat veteran and tandem skydive instructor from Toledo, Washington, who made his first BASE jumps from the Perrine Bridge two days ago. Daisher's students must have completed a minimum of 200 skydives for him to consider them for his classes. "Then life happens and all of a sudden, it makes sense. But I never cut corners. I want to be safe, I want to do it properly and l want to learn from the best."Todd Shoebotham, founder and president of Apex BASE, manufactures the rigs many of these men are using. He was a 20-year-old skydiver in 1987 when his brother introduced him to jumping off bridges, antennae, spans and earth. "I loved that BASE jumping brings you closer to nature," he says as he finishes repacking his rig. "You're not around a noisy airplane that's burning jet fuel." Most of these men didn't know each other when they arrived in the Magic Valley on Thursday, but they interact like old friends."I enjoy going to the fear," says Kyle Miller, a wingsuit flyer and daredevil who BASE jumped a motorcycle into the Snake River Canyon as a tribute to Evel Knievel in September 2024. "And the brotherhood you have with your friends when you're on the edge of a cliff in wingsuits in the middle of nowhere -- you zip up your suits, toes on the edge and everything goes away. You're not thinking about bills. You're not thinking about your problems. You're in the moment. It's clarity."9:25 a.m. -- Center of the Perrine Memorial Bridge, pedestrian walkway"Why would you jump off this perfectly good bridge?" Kent Novinger asks. His 24-year-old grandson, Isaac, is taking Daisher's course. Novinger doesn't understand the appeal of BASE jumping, but he says he supports his grandson in whatever he pursues. He earnestly wants to know why someone is drawn to this sport."Well," Novinger says. "Why are you doing this?"It takes me a minute, but I realize he's talking to me.BASE jumping isn't something I'd thought much about beyond my work as a journalist. But when Daisher asked if I wanted to tandem jump into the Snake River Canyon with him, I screamed "Yes!" into my cellphone before he finished asking the question.I woke up this morning and reminded myself that I will never BASE jump for the first time again. I want to tattoo upon my memory every instruction, every tug of the buckles tightening against my body, every inch of this majestic canyon that I can cram into my brain.As Daisher and I stand clipped together on a temporary metal platform, we can see the dirt pile where Knievel launched his ill-fated Snake River Canyon jump 52 years ago. "There it is!" I yell. "Evel's takeoff!"We are about to count down from five and step off the platform, free-fall for a couple seconds and then float to the bottom of that very same canyon. We'll have roughly the same view Knievel did after his parachute opened prematurely and his Skycycle X-2 rocket sailed toward the river and crashed. But I won't be looking at an image on my phone or at a photograph in a book. I will see it through my own eyes.Daisher tells me to take a deep breath and take it all in. I inhale deeply. "That's it!" I think. I look over my shoulder at Mr. Novinger. "I know why I'm doing this," I say. "All of this. The experience. The memory. The story."9:50 a.m.-- Bottom of the Snake River Canyon1. I will never forget the feeling of taking that first step off the platform and the exhilarating rush of the free fall. I felt total control -- and then complete surrender.2. The free fall (the time before the chute opens, which happens about two to three seconds after stepping off the platform) feels so much faster than skydiving (which I've also only done tandem). The ground comes at you fast. The tug of the chute opening is rough, and the flight to the bottom is too short.3. I have four records of our jump. After kissing me and telling me I'd better have my affairs in order, Billy filmed from the bridge. Miller filmed from the landing. I filmed with Daisher's selfie-stick. My favorite recording lives in my mind, taken with my own eyes.4. The hike out of the Snake River Canyon was as memorable as the jump. We tested the canyon's acoustics -- that echo! -- stuck our hands in waterfalls and spent 20 minutes talking and laughing and reliving the jump.12:07 p.m. -- Buzz Langdon Twin Falls Visitor Center "Welcome to Twin Falls. What brings you to town?" a young employee asks as I take out my credit card to pay for a Perrine Bridge T-shirt, a couple of stickers and a silver magnet with a BASE jumper in the center."I got to jump off the bridge this morning!" I answer with an annoying level of enthusiasm.She smiles. BASE jumping might still be illegal most everywhere else in the country. But in Twin Falls, Idaho, jumping off the Perrine Bridge earns you a discount on all purchases at the Visitor Center.1:15 p.m. -- A Giant Mound of Dirt at 42.597073 N, -114.422867 W It's so much bigger up close: The man-made hill where, in 1974, engineer Robert Truax constructed a ramp for Knievel so enormous he had to be lowered into the Skycycle X-2 by helicopter. Weeds and rocks cover the dirt. A steep, slippery trail runs down its northern face. Concrete slabs that formed the ramp's base remain on its southern side. Lots surrounding the hill are being sold in preparation for a new luxury subdivision.Standing on top of this giant pile of dirt, I can see the bridge I jumped from this morning. Across the canyon, a group of mountain bikers make their way toward the Shoshone Falls. It's easy to see how Knievel was inspired here. Perhaps that's why, more than 50 years later, people like me and Billy come here to stand in the spot where a man looked across a canyon a quarter of a mile wide, dared to dream beyond the limits of common sense and thought, "Why not?"3 p.m. -- "The Dojo," Miles Daisher's classroom and canopy packing spaceWe're all gathered back at Daisher's house, in a room he built above his garage, watching the live broadcast of Raha's jump in Las Vegas. Yesterday, the 31-year-old rider and his small crew had less than 24 hours to fix issues with his takeoff and landing ramps and log enough practice time to feel comfortable jumping today.A giant wind gust just blew a small lake of water onto the runout of his landing ramp. But on his third and final attempt, Raha launches his dirt bike 94 feet above the Caesars Palace fountains, breaking his own world record. He doesn't hit his goal of 100 feet, but he does something no one ever has -- and leaves himself wanting more."My team said, 'We want to walk out of here safe,'" Raha says later. "I said, 'We didn't come here not to break a record. What would Evel have done?'"4:05 p.m. -- The overlook at Shoshone Falls, "The Niagara of the West" Top 3 Reasons to Bring Your Dogs on Road Trips:1. You'd look odd running through the grass at parks and rest stops without them.2. They're good icebreakers when you want to pet other people's dogs.3. They keep your feet warm at night. (We did not pack enough socks.)5:55 p.m. -- Back in the vanA Strokes song just ended, and SiriusXM Alt Nation DJ Madison is talking about how she adores Idaho and can't believe she knows people who have never been to the Gem State. That's weird, Billy and I say to each other. Are we in "The Truman Show?" Is Madison talking directly to us?Then she reveals why she's hot on Idaho this afternoon.Today of all days -- the day I BASE jumped off the Perrine Bridge ... the day we visited what's left of Evel Knievel's Snake River Canyon takeoff ... the day we watched, from the home of a Twin Falls icon, Colby Raha set a motorcycle high air record -- is National Idaho Day.Monday, May 18: Curiosity and creativity9 a.m. -- Great Salt Lake Desert, Utah There's a metal box at the entrance to a Bureau of Land Management campground off Leppy Pass Road near the base of the Silver Island Mountains. On the inside of the box's lid, visitors have carved their names, along with a few unrepeatables and a cartoonish drawing of a pair of boobs. Others left business cards, a Zone 383 parking pass from downtown Chicago, a golf ball with "Sacramento" written on it in red Sharpie, a "Scout Life" magazine and a Polaroid of a black dog named Bixby.There are also multiple notebooks filled by people who've stopped in this same place. It's windy this morning. I bring the notebooks into the van so Billy and I can read through them."Day 5 and 1.8/4.5 miles in. Nothing like seeing the Milky Way while sleeping in your truck bed. I think our air mattress has a leak though." -- anonymous, July 23, 2022"On a trip to MOAB to meet up with online people I've never met 14 hours away from home in my Jeep that can barely get there ... Safe travels everyone and keep our lands free!" -- The Odessa Crew (Nicole, Amanda, Marci, Lando), Sept. 19, 2022"Staying two nights, driving across the country! Moving from AL to OR, very excited to start work as a biologist." -- anonymous, April 28, 2026"Passing through while cruising America for our honeymoon!" -- Kristen and Mike, May 10, 2026We find a pen and add an entry to a yellow, college-lined notebook."Taking a road trip through the American west and stopping in places of great adventure. Vegas ... Twin Falls ... Bonneville ... off to Elko and Lake Tahoe next. Dream Big Always." - Alyssa, Billy, Gonzo and Hank, May 18, 202612:02 p.m. -- Bonneville Salt Flats International Speedway, Utah I've always wondered if the Salt Flats smelled like an over-salted cioppino, if the ground tasted like sea salt. They do. It does. (No, I didn't lick the ground. But I did lick salt from the ground off my fingers.)Neither Billy nor I can believe our jobs and lives have never brought us here. But now that we're standing on what looks like a giant dry lakebed covered in snow, in the spot where each year during Speed Week, countless records are set and broken, where friends hold records and others turned down the opportunity to try -- we're in awe. We get the dogs out of the van and run as fast as we can to no point in particular. We wonder if there is a dachshund land speed record. (Did Hank just beat it?)The Salt Flats are rich with stories of adventure, triumph and tragedy. Photos do not do it justice. You need to taste the salt for yourself.2:50 p.m. -- Cowboy Arts & Gear Museum, Elko, Nevada Elko lies along the Cowboy Corridor, a 400-mile stretch of I-80 between West Wendover and Reno. It's modern and vibrant, even on a Monday, while living up to its billing as one of few remaining Western ranch towns.There's a square mile downtown where more than 60 murals by artists from all over the world pepper the walls of restaurants, bars and public buildings. Some celebrate Elko's gold mining heritage -- still its top industry -- while others embrace its history as a cowboy town, its 2017 centennial and the 41st annual National Cowboy Poetry Gathering, which took place in January.At the Cowboy Arts & Gear Museum, I learn about G.S. Garcia, a young Mexican American saddle maker and rodeo promoter from Santa Margarita, California, who moved to Elko in 1894. A photograph of a saddle he emblazoned with diamonds and silver hangs on the wall. The saddle earned him a gold medal at the 1904 St. Louis World's Fair, which is behind glass in the museum. According to a man named Allen, who runs the museum three days a week, President Theodore Roosevelt bought the saddle from Garcia and today, it hangs in a museum in Carson City.Allen tells me Garcia was unlike anyone in Elko. When a silver worker named Susie McConnell walked into his shop in 1903 and he saw the quality of her work, he hired her to work on his famous black leather "Beauty Saddle." Her photo hangs in the museum."That was before anyone talked about gender equality," Allen says.We talk about creativity, how it was the cornerstone of survival in Garcia's days. When times were tough, the ranchers and businessmen who survived were those who took risks and thought creatively. The museum we're standing in was Garcia's shop.Creativity has come up a lot in my conversations the past few days. My favorite mural I've seen so far is of an astronaut sitting on a crescent moon holding a wooden sign that reads, "Creative West or Bust." Pastrana and Raha both talked about how record setting is as much about creativity as talent. Daisher told me record chasers are dreamers as much as risk-takers. "Anyone who played with Legos as a kid has the creativity to dream up a record to break," he said.8:30 p.m. -- Truckee, Calif. Before we leave Elko, we text our friend Nicole Dreon, who lives in Truckee (but is rarely home) and ask if she's around (She is!) and if we can camp in her driveway (We can!).I met Nicole when I started covering action sports for ESPN 23 years ago. At the time, I knew no one like her. She worked on the research team at X Games, and when her contract ended after each event, she took off to work as a heli ski guide in Alaska or on kayaking trips in Africa. "Where do you live?" I remember asking her one summer. "Wherever I am," she said. I wanted to be more like Nicole.All these years later, Nicole is still one of the most adventurous people I know. She's also a homeowner.I've been lucky to travel the world with Nicole covering the X Games and Olympics and as a competitor and broadcast host for the Rebelle Rally. The last time I saw her, we were freezing at the bottom of a halfpipe in Livigno, Italy. It's only been a few months, but I'm certain she's filled them with adventures. I can't wait to hear everything about them.Tuesday, May 19: The helper and achiever11 a.m. -- South Lake Tahoe, Calif.Tommy Caldwell tells me he has taken a personality test. "I'm a helper," he says.We're sitting inside Three Pines Coffee Company in South Lake Tahoe, where Caldwell moved last year. "I'm uncompetitive," says the man who, along with his climbing partner, Kevin Jorgeson, completed a historic 19-day first free ascent of the Dawn Wall on Yosemite's El Capitan in 2015."The thing that brings me to life is assisting other people," he says, returning to the Enneagram test he, his wife, Becca, and frequent climbing partner, Alex Honnold, took recently. "That never really goes along with being a great athlete, generally." Around us, climbers and hikers drift in and out of the caf in down jackets and beanies. A young climber who's new to town stops by our table to introduce himself to Caldwell and shake his hand. Snow still hangs on the peaks above town."The reason I've been able to do the hardest things is because I don't focus on the goal that much," Caldwell says. "I'm obsessed by the lifestyle that's created by trying to reach the goal. It's the willingness to take the steps. I'm addicted to progression."In Caldwell's case, being a "helper," might be what has made him not only one of the greatest big-wall climbers in the world, but also a sought-after climbing partner. Caldwell, 47, and Honnold, 40, have spent years chasing ambitious goals together. They completed the first full traverse of Patagonia's Fitz Roy massif in 2014, broke the speed record on El Capitan's Nose route in 2018 and cycled, hiked and sailed 2,500 miles from Colorado to Alaska before completing the Diablo Traverse in 2023."Alex can do the scariest things in the world, and just be like, 'No big deal.' And honestly, I'm a little bit like that," Caldwell says. "That's why we climb so much together, because we're up on the mountain and we're not getting scared. There's an appeal to being able to make light of something we know most people in the world would be completely horrified by."He sips his coffee and takes a bite of banana bread. We've been talking for nearly two hours. (That's probably the helper in him, too.) As he discusses what inspires him these days, Caldwell seems less motivated by breaking records than by exploration. He's a dad, as well as an environmental activist and lobbyist, and it takes more to draw him away from home than when he was young and ego drove his pursuits."I'm not sure why this is the case, but in Colorado, every little piece of rock and cliff has been picked through," he says. "The Sierras, on the other hand, are so unexplored. Since living here, my zest to explore and go out in the middle of nowhere and find new cliffs to climb is renewed. I've found some extraordinary things."That idea -- that there are still extraordinary things to find and explore in America in 2026 -- is what's fueling my own exploration on this trip. While most people are content following the contours of known maps, those like Caldwell slip into the mountains in search of white spaces that have yet to be filled in. What drives them to do so? How do they decide what is worth pursuing next?"People are always looking for that very quantifiable achievement," Caldwell says.Exploration, he suggests, is harder to measure."There's this creative element of exploration," he says. "The more obscure it gets, the more possibilities for exploration. If you allow yourself to go into these really obscure places, the options are kind of limitless."8 p.m. -- Mammoth Lakes, Calif.I couldn't help myself. I took an online enneagram personality test. I am Enneagram Type 3: The Achiever.Wednesday, May 20: The edge7:30 a.m. -- Jawbone Station Visitor Center, Mojave, Calif.A morning haiku:Tumbleweed blows east.A wren wrestles its shadow.Two birds fly away.Why I wrote a morning haiku: Before leaving on this trip, my editor, Susie, informed the five writers participating in this America 250 project about two friendly competitions. She would award prizes for the best photo of local food and the best haiku. I eat a mostly vegan diet. "Focus on the haiku," Susie said. As an Enneagram Type 3, I am endeavoring to win both.11:15 a.m. -- Edwards Air Force Base Flight Test Museum, near Rosamond, Calif. "I hope we hear a sonic boom," says James "J.T." Tucker, the Wing Historian for the 412th Test Wing at Edwards AFB. We're standing outside the museum where he has been a civilian historian for six years. I've come here to talk about Chuck Yeager and the history of limit pushing and barrier breaking at this base. During our drive from the visitor control center, a Northrop B-2 Spirit, otherwise known as a stealth bomber, flew alongside the car, banked right and floated away.Aircraft take off and land continually throughout our three-hour visit, many of them capable of breaking the sound barrier. "It happens about two to four times a week," Tucker says. An F-16 supersonic fighter jet flies overhead and drowns out Tucker as he explains the physics of a sonic boom. "To quote one of our former wing vice commanders," he says, "the sky above Edwards is a cathedral to aviation."On Oct. 13, 1947, breaking the sound barrier, even here, was theoretical. During World War II, a theory prevailed that a solid physical barrier existed at the speed of sound and was impossible to pass. But on Oct. 14, Captain Charles Elwood "Chuck" Yeager, piloting the Sunkist orange Bell X-1, flew at Mach 1.06, or 700 mph, and proved not only that an aircraft could reach Mach 1 but that it could be done safely in combat.What had been fiction became fact. The impossible was now repeatable. "A few years after Yeager's flight, we'd break Mach 2 here, and then a few years after that, Mach 3," Tucker says. "And then in one year, with one pilot, with one plane, we'd break Machs 4, 5 and 6. A few years after that, in 1967, we set the still-standing record for manpowered level flight at Mach 6.7 (or 4,520 mph)."Sports have their "sound barrier" moments, too. There's Roger Bannister breaking the four-minute mile. Sabastian Sawe and Yomif Kejelcha officially running a marathon in under two hours. Skateboarder Tony Hawk landing the first 900 on a vert ramp, Travis Pastrana landing the first double backflip on a motorcycle. Like Yeager and the team behind the supersonic research program, these athletes didn't just test limits -- they redefined them. The impossible was now repeatable."Test pilots are the kinds of people who look at a question or a problem and go, 'How do I get there?'" Tucker says. "Yeager was chosen for his instinctual flying, his combat experience and the fact that he was a proven cool-under-pressure flyer. And he was willing to push the edge."12:20 p.m. As we leave the museum, the bustling sky above reminds me how I wanted to be an astronaut. That's what I told anyone who asked. I would learn to fly planes, attend the Air Force Academy, become a test pilot and join NASA. In third grade, my family moved from Pittsburgh to Southwest Florida. I was closer to my dream than ever.The next January, I stood outside with my class and watched the Space Shuttle Challenger explode. A year later, our fifth-grade teacher assigned us to write a letter to a company and request a response. I wrote to NASA.(Clearly someone had gifted me a Thesaurus that year.)"I am dismayed," I wrote. "Some people say NASA knew of the impending danger of the rocket but felt it imperative to proceed with the launch. I am confounded by the idea that the safety of the astronauts would not come first. Please expound on the problem and explain the launching procedure of the Challenger."I requested photos, flight plans and answers, and signed the letter, "Your friend, Alyssa Roenigk."A woman named Stella Luna in the Public Affairs office of Lyndon B. Johnson Space Center in Houston wrote back. She returned my letter, along with a typed response I believed answered my specific questions (it was, in fact, a form letter sent to anyone with questions about the Challenger disaster), a balsa wood model of the shuttle, an envelope full of color photos and bios of the seven astronauts, a copy of the flight plan and the results of the Presidential Commission appointed to study the disaster.I wrote her several more letters, each time requesting information and gifts. I remember the thrill of opening the mailbox to find oversized paper envelopes with the NASA logo. I still have every response.We get out of the car, look around, and the clock winds way farther back.12:30 p.m. -- Daily Parking Lot at Edwards AFB South BaseIt doesn't look like much. At the northwest edge of a parking lot filled with civilian vehicles, there's an orange metal railing cordoning off the Bell X-1 loading pit. It was here in 1947 that Yeager's plane was loaded into the bomb bay of a B-29, which pulled out of the pit, turned left and took off, carrying Yeager and the X-1 (named "Glamorous Glennis," for Yeager's first wife) to a drop altitude between 20,000 and 23,000 feet before releasing it into the sky.Standing next to this pit feels a lot like standing on top of Evel Knievel's Snake River Canyon takeoff. That was just a pile of dirt. This is just a concrete hole in the ground. The air around both feels electric.12:45 p.m. -- U.S. Air Force Test Pilot School at Edwards AFB "That's two T-38s flying at Mach 1.05," says Lieutenant Colonel Brijen Patel, a TPS instructor and test pilot known by the call sign MOD. We're looking at a Schlieren photograph, which visualizes changes in the density of air or gas -- in this case, the invisible shock waves created when a plane breaks the sound barrier -- by turning them into brilliant red-and-yellow streaks. The image is stunning, and it's an important tool for studying how air moves around a supersonic plane. This photograph is possible because supersonic flight is possible.Patel is talking about the AI revolution, the "sound barrier" problem pilots and engineers like him are solving for today. Answering the next question and beating the competition to the future drives Patel and his pilots. "Wanting to be on the cutting edge is the motivation for most folks you see here at the school," he says.Toward the end of our tour, David Vanhoy, technical director of TPS, joins our small group. "We like to say, 'exploring the unknown with discipline,'" Vanhoy says. "We had a commandant who used to say, 'Mother Nature hid so many secrets out in the universe, and we're here to extract them.' That's what we're trying to do, tour the unknown."1:17 p.m. -- Office of Col. Maryann Karlen, commandant of the USAF Test Pilot School "There it is," Patel says. "That was Chuck Yeager's desk." Yeager was the commandant here from 1962 to 66. When he left, he left his desk. It's as wide as the picture window behind it, nearly as deep and has been in this room since Yeager brought it here. Thirty-six commandants have sat behind this desk since his tenure ended.8 p.m. -- Hobson Beach Park Campsite 11, Ventura, Calif.I used to follow Brigadier General Chuck Yeager (@GenChuckYeager) on Twitter, where he posted about his life and career until his death on Dec. 7, 2020, at age 97. He was funny. I still remember laughing out loud at his penultimate post on Feb. 13, 2019."You won't believe it. I don't believe it myself - 96 today. How to live to 120? Live to 119 and then be very very careful :-) Celebrating with friends" Today, I came as close as I ever will to hearing his stories firsthand.8:30 p.m.I met Evel Knievel in July 2006, a little more than a year before he died at 69. I was in his hometown of Butte, Montana, for Evel Knievel Days, writing about motorcycle distance jumpers. By then, Knievel was frail. He was driven around in a golf cart while wearing an oxygen backpack. We chatted briefly (I did most of the talking), and I watched him strain to sign a helmet.I've always regretted not meeting Gen. Yeager. Then again, he lives eternally in my mind as the young man who, at 24, climbed into the Bell X-1 and broke the sound barrier.Thursday, May 21: The waves7:30 a.m. -- Hobson Beach Park campground, VenturaThere is no more soothing lullaby than the sound of waves crashing against the beach. Best sleep of the trip.10 a.m. -- Patagonia Product/Design Headquarters, VenturaAndrew Reinhart's workspace is cluttered with samples and scaled-down versions of airbag bladders and wetsuits. "This is the biggest advancement that's happened in big-wave surfing," he says. He's holding a tan vest with orange pulls at the shoulders and a thick black stripe down the center. "This vest, and I mean specifically ours, changed big-wave surfing forever."Reinhart is a product developer at Patagonia and for the past 15 years has been obsessed with improving this personal surf inflation vest, as well as a line of foam-padded wetsuits that work in tandem with the vest to float surfers to the surface quickly after they fall off a wave. Reinhart surfs big waves and knows what can happen when a surfer is held down by a massive set and isn't wearing a vest. He also knows what can happen when they are."I've had so many surfers show up randomly at my office to find me and hug me," he says. "They'll say, 'I'd be dead if it wasn't for you.'" When the company unveiled prototypes in 2012 and released the patented version to the public in 2017, surfers didn't flock to buy it. It wasn't easy to convince the heaviest surfers in the world that safety isn't the antithesis of skill. But a string of high-profile deaths sparked change from inside the sport.A group of icons created the Big Wave Risk Assessment Group (BWRAG, or "brag"), a global nonprofit that provides ocean safety, risk management and emergency medical training for surfers and water enthusiasts.To purchase one of Patagonia's big-wave vests, a surfer must complete a $250 BWRAG safety course and then book an appointment to come to this building and meet with Reinhart. They sit at this desk, where he teaches them how to use the $1,250 vest properly. As he shows me how to fill and deflate the replaceable CO2 cartridges, I think back to my conversation with Caldwell two days ago.He's the best in the world at what he does, and to someone watching him scale a 3,000-foot-tall granite wall, he looks like someone who runs toward peril. Yet he does everything in his power and training to mitigate danger. "I've never been the kind of person who pursues risk," Caldwell told me. "For me, risk is an unfortunate side of climbing." The better he has become at his craft, the more energy he has devoted to reducing danger. Thrill might draw someone in, but it isn't enough to sustain the years of training required to master a pursuit like big-wall climbing or big-wave surfing.Fifteen years ago, a big-wave surfer wearing an inflatable vest would have been laughed out of the lineup. "Today, try surfing Waimea [on Oahu's north shore] without anything on," Reinhart says. "The other surfers will tell you to paddle in and go get a vest."2 p.m. -- Bay Street Beach, Santa Monica, Calif. I've had a lot of conversations about death this week. That's inevitable when talking about exploring the edge. I'm thinking about those conversations as I sit in the sand in front of Lifeguard Tower 20 on Santa Monica Beach. The stretch between Bay Street to my right and Bicknell to my left was once known as "The Ink Well." It was here where Black beachgoers encountered less racial harassment than at other Southland beaches from the early 1920s until the end of the Jim Crow era in the 1960s.Sometime in the 1940s, a lifeguard from Tower 20 loaned a surfboard to a young Santa Monica High School student named Nick Gabaldn, who taught himself to surf. The waves are mushy today and the lineup is empty, but I can close my eyes and picture Gabaldn in the lineup, learning to time a set and drop in on Bay Street's small, quick, steep waves.Gabaldn is California's first known Black surfer. He took great risks to participate. After high school, he would paddle 12 miles north to Malibu to surf better waves alongside better surfers. Then he would paddle 12 miles back to this beach before heading home.In June 1951, Gabaldn was surfing a big swell and crashed into the Malibu Pier. His body was found three days later.Less than a week before Gabaldn's death at 24, he wrote a poem titled "Lost Lives" for a class at Santa Monica City College. These are the last two stanzas of that poem:Scores and scores have fallen preyTo the salt of animosity,And many more will victims beOf the capricious, vindictive sea.O, avaricious ocean so very strongRobust, powerful, I'm not wrong,Pounding, beating upon your cousin shore.Come you clapping; rapping with a mighty roar.I often wonder if some people are born knowing they will meet an early end and live their lives with more gusto. Or does dying young make us see people's lives differently, like James Dean or Marilyn Monroe? Did Gabaldn know the ocean would take him one day?A couple of days ago, I talked to Tommy Caldwell about the new HBO documentary on climbing revolutionary Dean Potter, who died in a wingsuit accident in 2015. Potter was haunted by dreams of falling to his death from a young age. He was obsessed with what he called "the death consequence," which drove him to take great risk in pursuit of heightened awareness and clarity. While we hiked out of the Snake River Canyon on Sunday, Miles Daisher told me he had conversations with his close friend and influential big-mountain skier Shane McConkey days before his death ski-BASE jumping in 2009. Those talks unnerved Daisher. "Shane could see the future," Daisher says.Is there a clarity that comes with believing your life will be short?3:35 p.m. -- Route 66 Caf, Santa MonicaI've lived in the Los Angeles area since 2009. Billy moved here in 2015. We've never eaten at Mel's Drive-In, which is at the intersection of Lincoln and Olympic, the unofficial end to historic Route 66. At this corner, "The Main Street of America" ends and becomes the Pacific Coast Highway. This year, the diner is celebrating Route 66's centennial with birthday party decorations and food specials. Don't pass up the $6 mimosas.5 p.m. -- Driving in the van, Santa Monica"They're cut from different sections of the same cloth," Billy says to me. We're on our way to our next campsite, revisiting the incredible conversations I've had on this trip. Over the years, I've noticed striking similarities between many of the athletes in my reporting. They speak alike, especially when discussing risk and fear. They pursue like-minded dreams and take similar steps toward achieving them. This week, as I've talked with Pastrana, Raha, Caldwell, Daisher -- athletes with outwardly opposing personalities -- I've been struck by how similarly they view the world, and it has reminded me of a term I coined years ago for people like them, from athletes to artists to scientists and explorers.I call them mapmakers.**MAP MAKER (map may-ker) noun: A person who makes maps; a cartographer.MAPMAKER (map-may-ker) noun: An explorer of possibility, a person who expands the known world by testing the limits of human potential and embarking on great adventures beyond the current edges of our maps.**Lewis Carroll, the English writer and mathematician, once pointed out that any map faithfully depicting the country it represents would have to be as large as that country. By necessity, maps are skewed. Map makers shape the way we see the world.The same can be said of mapmakers. By breaking records and barriers, mapmakers shape the way we see what is possible in the world and, in turn, what is possible within ourselves.I spent several years exploring this idea with high-performance psychologist Mike Gervais and sports scientist Andy Walshe, men who are driven to answer the same questions in their work with limit-pushing athletes as I am in mine. The project never became the book we imagined, but the question never left us: What drives a person to pursue something that conventional wisdom insists is impossible?This trip is reinvigorating my desire to understand these mapmakers and what we can learn from them. But before I can follow that thought much further, Gonzo and Hank pull me back to the present. They need to run through another park.Friday, May 22: Off the grid1:45 p.m. -- North Fork Welcome Sign*The exact center of California, 60 miles past Selma, the "Raisin Capital of the World."2 p.m. -- Meetup Spot in North Fork. 37 13'32.3 N / 119 30'34.2 W Today, I swap our van for my dirt bike. I'm heading out on a four-day moto camping trip with a group of women that includes my sister-in-law, Jolene Van Vugt, and good friend, Ashmore Ellis, who, as co-founder of Babes in the Dirt, has built a career around sharing her passion for motorcycles and the outdoors with other women. In about an hour, I'll surrender my phone until we return after touring the Sierra National Forest and Yosemite National Park.I've competed in several rally navigation competitions that require turning in your computer and cell phone. The first few hours are the hardest. After that, I never think about my phone. I find I don't think about much outside of the task at hand which, in this case, is to ride well, stay safe, have fun and remember the experience. (I packed a disposable camera, a journal and a pen.)I don't know most of the women on this trip, which Jolene and I booked last year. I can't wait to ask them the same questions I've asked some of the best, most passionate explorers, adventurers and risk-takers in the world. Why do they take risks? Why do they seek out exploration and adventure? What more is out there for them?2:10 p.m. I call Billy to check in before I hand over my phone. I thought that after a week together on the road with an overly intense itinerary and two needy wiener dogs, we'd be grateful for time apart. It has only been a few hours since we separated, and I love how much I miss him."Babe," he says to me. "You'll never believe what I just heard on the news. Today is National Road Trip Day."Monday, May 25: Mapmakers12:30 p.m. -- 37 13'32.3 N / 119 30'34.2 WI don't want to turn on my phone. My hands hurt. My forearms are toast. My dirt bike is filthy. Every item of clothing I brought, including what I'm wearing, smells earthy and sour, a mix of body odor, granite dust and campfire smoke. Most of my belongings are wet.Butterfly season came early in the Sierras. Warm weather brought monarchs and swallowtails to dance in the pines as we rode. Alpine buttercups, lupines and poppies dotted the hillsides. The waterfalls were rushing. The morning water crossings were cool and rejuvenating. I turn on my phone.5:30 p.m. -- Somewhere on the Grapevine (I-5) Two of the 11 women on this trip had never ridden a dirt bike. Longtime street riders, they signed up and paid for a four-day motorcycle camping adventure with women they had never met and through terrain they had never seen.Glenne McElhinney bought her first dirt bike a month ago as a 70th birthday gift to herself. She had ridden street bikes for more than 50 years but had never ventured off pavement. She rode the first half of the first day with a flat tire.At river crossings, she handed her bike to one of our guides and walked the long way around. She stayed back at camp during the optional single-track rides in the evenings.Then on Sunday, we climbed to a short crossing near a campsite. Hikers lined both sides of the river, the crowd growing as one by one, we splashed through the creek. Glenne stayed back and watched each rider's technique. Jolene stayed back with her.My sister-in-law is a former motocross racer and the first woman to backflip a dirt bike. She's a passionate instructor with a gift for turning her confidence into someone else's courage."Can I do this, Jolene?" Glenne asked."Of course you can!" Jo shouted over the rumble of their engines. "You've got this!"We all started hooting and screaming.When Glenne made it to the other side of the river, the hillside erupted in cheers and high-fives. One of the hikers turned toward us, smiled and placed her hand over her heart. We revved our engines. We all had goosebumps.This was not Evel Knievel clearing 14 Greyhound buses, Colby Raha setting a high-air record or Chuck Yeager breaking the sound barrier. But it might as well have been. Glenne's ride across that creek is the image I am carrying with me out of the forest.I was Glenne when I stood on the edge of the Perrine Bridge. On our best days, we are all Glenne, pushing to expand our own boundaries.Watching someone accomplish a feat that once lived only in fear and imagination moves the world forward.Witnessing someone accomplish something they believed was impossible for them might move us forward even more.Editor's note: Alyssa won the haiku contest.Maps by Christopher Delisle. Postcard design by Don Jolovich. Postcard image by Johnny Russey. Photo illustrations and editing by Robert Booth, Jason Potterton and Tony Spinelli. Copy edited by Lindsay Avant. Research by Dana Lee, Gueorgui Milkov and Alonzo Olmedo. Social media execution by Bryan Antos and Christian Gardner. Edited by Susie Arth and Scott Burton.
