Meet the Storyteller Brian
I Think I Was Born to be Outdoors & Travel
I went fishing with my dad before I was old enough to understand what fishing really was. I slept in a tent in the woods with him, carried my first rifle, and hunted alongside him — all before I turned seven. When I was not yet five, we traveled from Pennsylvania to South Dakota to bring home my twenty‑years‑older brother, and that long trip across the country opened my eyes to how big the world really was.
Most days in summer, I hiked through the woods to reach the town swimming pool, wandering the trails as if they were my own private wilderness. I caught my first fish by myself when I was eight, and I’ve been trying to find that photo ever since. My first international travel came in sixth grade, when we visited Niagara Falls and crossed into Canada.
Yes — I got my love of the outdoors early. And I still have it.
Then Came My Awe at the Wonders of the Universe
After a near‑death experience with anaphylactic shock from a walnut allergy, I was sent to Chicago to be treated by my allergist brother. While recovering, I wandered into the Field Museum and picked up a copy of Frontiers of Astronomy by Fred Hoyle. That book cracked my world open. It showed me the scientific view of the universe — vast, elegant, and grounded in evidence — and I began to see how it contrasted with the religious world I had grown up in.
Instead of pulling me away from faith, it did the opposite. It made me want to understand how science and spirituality fit together. I’ve never found them incompatible. In fact, I find the God of my understanding every time I’m in nature.
I did become a scientist — a physicist working in both academia and the private sector. I trained in chemistry and biology as well, and I’ve always been fascinated by how humanity is shaped by those realities. I’m a keen student of the human condition, always trying to understand how we became who we are and how we fit into the larger story of the universe.
Adventures Across a Lifetime
My adventures began in earnest when I took a year off from Harvard and hitchhiked the length and breadth of the United States. I wandered through Texas, New Mexico, California, Kansas, and Illinois — part of an ambitious but ultimately abandoned plan to earn enough money to travel to India and live in an ashram as part of my spiritual search. Before returning to Harvard, my buddies and I headed north into Canada for camping and fishing. That trip later became Ian’s story Calabogie & I.
After a stint in academia, I moved into the private sector, where my work required constant coast‑to‑coast travel. That transition gave me the financial means to explore the country with my family — visiting states, national parks, and places that shaped our shared memories. I’ve visited all fifty states and most of the national parks. On one trip to Hawaii, I rediscovered my Boy Scout introduction to birdwatching, and that spark became a lifelong companion on my business travels.
When my older son turned sixteen, we flew into the Canadian wilderness for a canoeing and camping adventure — a story now woven into my writing. When my younger son reached sixteen, we traveled to Australia together to support a kangaroo banding project — another story that found its way into my storytelling. That trip ignited my passion for international birding, and many journeys followed.
When I retired at a relatively early age, my wife and I were finally able to travel together to destinations around the world, adding new chapters to our shared adventures.
Yes — I have traveled to more than seventy countries across six continents, with the seventh still ahead of me. Most of those journeys were as an independent traveler, often far off the beaten track. Those places, those moments, and those encounters are the source of most of my stories.
Adventure has never been something I chased for thrills. It has always been the way I understand the world — and myself. From my earliest days wandering the woods of Pennsylvania to hitchhiking across the country, from scientific exploration to international travel, every adventure has taught me something about how humans fit into the larger story of nature, culture, and the universe.
I’ve learned that adventure isn’t about distance. It’s about attention. It’s about stepping into places where you don’t control the outcome, where you have to adapt, observe, and respect the forces around you. Whether I’m deep in a Canadian wilderness, standing on a ridge in New Mexico, birding in Australia, or traveling through a remote village halfway around the world, I’m reminded that the world is bigger, older, and more intricate than anything we can fully grasp.
Adventure has also taught me humility. Nature doesn’t care about our plans. Weather changes. Rivers rise. Animals behave as they will. Cultures follow their own rhythms. The best adventures happen when you stop trying to impose your expectations and instead let the place teach you what it wants you to know.
Most of all, adventure has given me gratitude — for the landscapes I’ve walked, the people I’ve met, the wildlife I’ve seen, and the moments that have stayed with me long after the journey ended. It’s the lens through which I see the world, and the foundation of the stories I tell.
My Philosophy of Adventure
Why I Write Stories
I’ve spent my life outdoors, in laboratories, in wilderness camps, in remote villages, on airplanes, in national parks, and in places most people never see. Over time, I realized that adventure alone wasn’t enough. I needed a way to make sense of it — to understand what each experience meant, how it shaped me, and how it connected to the larger human story.
Writing became that way.
I write because adventure changes you, but memory fades unless you give it form. I write because the world is full of moments that deserve to be held up to the light — the quiet ones, the dangerous ones, the funny ones, the humbling ones. I write because every place I’ve been has taught me something, and those lessons feel incomplete until I share them.
I also write because stories let me explore the parts of myself that don’t fit neatly into biography. Some stories come from Brian — the real traveler, the scientist, the father, the observer. Some come from Ian — the fictionalized version of me who can say and do things the real Brian wouldn’t. And some come from Ian Andcompany — the storyteller who takes the raw material of my life and spins it into pure fiction.
Together, these voices let me tell the truth in different ways.
Most of all, I write because the world is astonishing. Nature, people, cultures, wildlife, landscapes — they all carry meaning if you pay attention. Writing is how I pay attention. It’s how I honor the adventures I’ve lived and the ones still ahead of me.
