It's good to be outside

by Anton Zuiker on April 5, 2026

From the Watchman Trail, Zion National Park

As I noted in Shows I attended in 2025, my personal five-year plan, under the question “What is my state of mind [in 2030]?” says I will find awe, beauty, and wonder from nature and spend 5 full days outside each year.

I’m glad to have just done that with the family. Our trip to Zion National Park was spectacular.

Sure, I had moments of impatience and frustration and worry—a work stress was particularly hard to shake—but being able to slow down, breathe deeply, and look up and around and into the eyes of my loved ones confirmed that this outdoors goal is right to be at the top of my ‘vivid vision’ document.

Spring hiking in Zion

by Anton Zuiker on April 4, 2026

Snow Canyon State Park, Utah

Late in the day on Wednesday Oliver and I met up above Walter’s Wiggles at the top of the West Rim Trail in Zion National Park. We were in Utah for a spring break adventure with Erin, Anna, the Claffey family (Erin’s sister, Mary), and Tom and Katherine (Erin’s other sister) from Boise. Our group had won a morning permit to crawl out to (death defying) Angel’s Landing, but the overnight rains kept us away (great excuse to skip the danger) until late afternoon. After hiking other parts of the park (muddy Lee Pass Trail in the Kolog Canyons section and then Watchman Trail in the main park), most of us took up the challenge to hustle up to Scout Point, just before Angel’s Landing, and then down again in time for the last shuttle down to the visitor center.

While I waited for Erin to arrive at the trailhead, Oliver and his cousins started up the steep trail. Eventually, Erin urged me to go ahead, so I hiked fast, barely stopping to catch my breath and not even enjoying the cool beauty of Refrigerator Canyon. I met Oliver at Scout Lookout, snapped some photos, and used the toilet. Yes, there is a set of pit latrines up at the top of the trail.

“Toilets at the top!” I said.

“That’s funny,” said Oliver.

“It could be the title of a blog post,” I replied. [I tried to use it as the title for this post, but it just doesn’t work. I clearly was tired from the hiking when I had that bad idea.]

Down the trail we went, pausing every few minutes to watch the growing shadows on the canyon walls. So late in the day meant the crowds were gone and we were basically alone on the trail. We didn’t make it to the iconic Angel’s Landing but we did get to enjoy the park in a memorable way.

Other hikes we did: Weeping Rock, Riverside Walk (along with hundreds of families in their waders on their way into the Narrows), and Kayenta Trail to Upper Emerald Pools. We took hundreds of photos along the way, and I stopped even more to just look up and marvel at the expanse and scale of the rock cliffs.

A birthday

Thursday was my birthday, so in true Zuiker fashion we started the day at River Rock Roasting Co. for breakfast and giant cinnamon rolls. We sat outside on the veranda that overlooks the Virgin River, which comes out of Zion Canyon. (Another family walked by, one girl wearing a Carolina shirt, so we chatted with them to find out they, too, were from Chapel Hill.) Around the table, we discussed our itinerary, which needed to end in Las Vegas for our final night. Since it was my birthday, I got to decide, and since there were Mojave Desert tortoises to be seen, I opted for Utah’s Snow Canyon State Park. This park is just outside of St. George, and near the BLM’s Red Cliffs National Conservation Area, and I was surprised by how much there was to do. Alas, we did not see a tortoise, but we hiked for more than three hours amid the beauty.

Glamping

Erin had made most the trip’s arrangements months before, and when she suggested we sleep in the heated tents of Under Canvas, I gave an enthusiastic yes. This was a fun place, set on a beautiful hill at the very edge of Zion National Park, with an on-site kitchen and family activities and plenty of dry firewood for the stove inside the tent (and a heated shower, a sink, a toilet). We’d been promised stellar views of the Milky Way but rain clouds and then a full moon kept the heavens away. Still, a very enjoyable way to visit the area.

Las Vegas

We flew in and out of Vegas, stayed two nights at the Bellagio and then a final night at the Palazzo at the Venetian. The lights and noise and crowds of the strip were exciting, at first, but quickly unpalatable (having to walk through the smoky casino to get in and out of the hotel added to the discomfort). The highlight was pizza, gelato, and espresso at Eataly. From Vegas we took a day trip to the Hoover Dam and nearby Boulder City.

The Wayfinder

On the flight home, I read for hours, still only half through The Wayfinder, the 700-page novel by Adam Johnson.

On page 365, I read this dialogue, in which the young Kōrero answers that she had been lost when sailing on her own.

“When I focused on where I was supposed to go and how I should get there, I felt pretty lost. When I forgot all that and just sailed, I seemed to go in the right direction.”

There were moments on the trail, my phone away and the family spread before and behind, when I felt perfectly in the moment, the stillness of the desert or the strength of the canyon or the vastness of the universe taking me just where I needed to be going.

I want to go back, to Zion and St. George and everything else there is to explore in Southwest Utah.

Blown away

by Anton Zuiker on March 24, 2026

My friend Michael invited me over for dinner last night. “Bring a few of your albums that you’d like to listen to on my system,” he said. Over dinner last fall, I’d told him I’d started collecting vinyl records and the family was enjoying playing them in our big main room. I gathered up Simon and Garfunkel, Fleetwood Mac, Kurt Vile, and a couple of others.

I got to Michael’s house and he was grilling a sausage from Woodland Farm. We sat in the kitchen and ate the sausage and peppers and slices of baguette, drank the Great Lakes Dortmunder Gold I’d brought, and talked about our work in writing and websites, but also travel and next-chapter projects.

Then, we stepped into the music room. Michael’s audio system is miles above what I have. He had me sit in the center of the sofa in front of the tall speakers that were evenly spaced apart, but also the same distance from the room’s walls. We started with Bridge Over Troubled Water and I was immediately stunned by the waves of audio. The music was coming straight at me even though the speakers were spread in front. Wow. Rumours was amazing, the mixing of the voices and instruments so masterful and mesmerizing. I kept turning my head back and forth, my ears trying to make sense of this new musical experience. And Vile’s Wakin’ on a Pretty Day, a song I often play in the van when I’m driving to work, ended with a streamer of crinkling sound that I hadn’t known was there.

“Did you hear anything new?” Michael had asked me after the first few songs. He’d known I would. He has a very good sound system.

Michael also told me about the jazz kissa, or listening cafes, and the more recent American attempts to facilitate music appreciation in bars, and also about UNC professor Mark Katz, who is teaching a graduate seminar on Analog. (I told him about Craig Mod’s Kissa by Kissa, a book I wrote about as one to hold and enjoy.)

We listened to music for a couple of hours. After my records, we heard War on Drugs and Wilco and ended with the celestial Come Away with Me by Norah Jones. I was exhausted from listening so intently.

I also was energized with this new way of listening. Michael had encouraged me to listen to a full side of a record without speaking. This was hard for me, but I recognized the lesson. For much of my adult life, I’ve been told I’m a good listener, but even so in the last few years I’ve worked on my listening skills, especially on pausing a few seconds before I begin to answer or address someone. But here was a deeper and even more patient listening, a giving in to be attentive longer.

‘Meditate much?’ I can hear you asking. I’ve been trying, but my stamina in silence is not much longer than the side of a record. Meditation and music seem like good companions for me on my journey to being a better listener.

I’m grateful to Michael for this experience.

Round the point

by Anton Zuiker on March 21, 2026

Sandy Point Beach, St. Croix, USVI

In February, I was back on St. Croix for a week of vacation. Erin was already on the island for a three-week experiment in working remotely, Malia had been with her for the first week, then I joined her for week two, and her sister followed for the final week.

While Erin worked, I relaxed through the week in my hammock under the usual sea grape tree at Sprat Hall Beach. I read, I slept, I swam. It was splendid.

The highlights of this vacation came from being on the water.

The islands had had stormy weather for the previous week, but that Sunday was beautiful and calm and clear. Erin and I joined family for a boat ride, leaving Green Cay Marina on the north shore in calm seas (later, we learned from a fisherman holding two large and colorful mahi mahi that the day before the seas had been even better, glassy).

Our boat went west, past Christiansted harbor, along the coast to the Annaly tide pools and the Maroon Sanctuary Territorial Park, with the rusted-out Hamm’s Bluff lighthouse. Years ago, we’d hiked up there and climbed up into the lighthouse; Oliver tripped and nearly tumbled off the cliff but Erin had jumped down and grabbed his arm. Now I was looking at where he would have perished. Beauty and peril, hand in hand.

We rounded the bluff and went past Sprat Hall, Rainbow Beach, and Frederiksted pier, to the always stunning Sandy Point National Wildlife Refuge. (Read my Duke Magazine feature about the turtle research there.). We anchored, swam, and most of the family went to walk along the beach. Then, after a bit of debate about whether to go back or go round, Aaron and Will kept us going along the south coast, a slow visit to a rusting dredger and then Ruth Cay, and a big detour out into open water to get past the security zone for the port. Still motoring, we rounded Point Udall, the easternmost point of United States territory, went past the easternmost antenna of the Very Long Baseline Array, and over to Buck Island for a late-afternoon swim at that amazing beach. We arrived back to the marina at dusk.

I have a 40-year history with St. Croix but I’d never circumnavigated the island. Few people get the chance, Aaron told me; we were drinking Leatherback Brewing beers, naturally; Aaron is a co-founder of that brewery, going on eight years now. (On my last day, at the brewery for lunch before my flight, Aaron gave us a taste of the just-ready Guanabana Double IPA.)

What a treat that day was. I thought about that while I was swinging in the hammock the next few days.

Then, my week almost up and Erin needing a break from the stresses of work—not just the intensity of high-stakes clinical trials contracts but also the power and wifi going in and out—we headed down to Sprat Hall Beach with our inflatable kayak. This is the kayak we’ve had in North Carolina and taken out on University Lake, but Erin wanted to use it in the USVI so she’d checked it as luggage when she’d flown down. So, we inflated it, pushed out, and paddled down the coast toward Frederiksted Pier, where passengers were returning to the Valiant Lady cruise ship for the evening departure. We were sitting low in the kayak, drifting, trailing our hands in the water, enjoying the views.

Turning back, we realized we were going to have to fight the current. When we got back to Sprat Hall, we were tired and delighted and ready for drinks, so a quick drive to Rainbow Beach and were sitting at Rhythms bar, drinking mojitos and eating the wahoo tacos. Just perfect.

So, it was another memorable visit to St. Croix. I can’t wait to go back.

Put away the red pen

by Anton Zuiker on March 21, 2026

Recently, someone sent over a draft document with a request for feedback. I printed the document, got out my red pen, and marked up the text with edits, comments, and questions. I’ve got nearly 40 years of writing and editing experience (since I was editor of the award-winning literary magazine at my high school), so my feedback was comprehensive and insightful and decisive (so I thought). The printed page had a lot of red, and when I tracked the changes to the Word file, it reflected a lot of my feedback. I sent it on its way through our internal review process.

Eventually, my version of the draft made it back to the requestor. But, they were not happy. This was not what they wanted.

What happened?

I had made three mistakes.

First, when the request for feedback came over, I didn’t respond with curiosity. What kind of feedback do you want? What level of editing, comments, and questions are you expecting? How will you use our input? When do you want this back to you?

I had forged into the forest of words armed with my red pen, but I had not asked the project leader just how this particular document should work its way through our organization before going back to the client. Who should see and touch this document first, next, last? Who decides what of our collective notes to include in the draft that gets sent back?

When we didn’t get that clarity, I allowed a colleague to send my marked-up draft, with little other input, back to the requester. I didn’t listen to my intuition that my thoughtful comments and questions, which I’d meant for our internal team to answer, would be received with less than gratitude from the client.

I had missed three chances to seek clarity.

A shift in focus

I’ve spent a couple of months reflecting on those mistakes and adjusting, mainly by recognizing and now controlling this deeply tuned habit to edit with granularity.

And, I’ve been rereading The agile comms handbook by Giles Turnbull. It’s an excellent how-to manual for organizational communications. On page 176, for example, Giles gives this advice:

Feedback—especially feedback on first drafts—should mostly be about the big stuff: ideas and structure.

And over in this blog post he condenses the process of writing and editing to one word: clarity. That’s what I’d learned, again, through the incident above, and it’s a goal I’ve set for myself this year, at work and in life. I’ve been learning to do this, through conversations with my career coach and with my therapist, and in reading books like The agile comms handbook or listening to podcasts such as Coaching for Leaders.

What’s become clear to me is that, on this path from writer to editor to manager to leader, it is time for me to put down my red pen. But old habits die hard: I did order the Studio Neat Limited Edition 018 red pen). So, just as I decided five years ago to “get out of PowerPoint” and spend more time helping others clarify their message instead of refining the spacing of their bullets, my role now is to focus on ‘the big stuff’.

How will this be used? Who will use it? What do you want to happen? What’s the goal? What’s the simplest way you can say this?

You can help me, and maybe yourself, next time you see me. Ask me, how have you reached for clarity recently?

Go open

Why am I writing this blog post? It’s what I’ve done for 25 years, being open about what I’m trying and where I’m failing and what I’m learning when I stumble, or when I do succeed. It’s what Giles calls ‘doing open’ (start here). I highly recommend the approach.

Test article

by Anton Zuiker on March 7, 2026

Searching for a bug in my Textpattern configuration that is making an article go 404 when a capital letter is in the URL-only-title. Forum discussion is here.

Search the archives

by Anton Zuiker on February 8, 2026

I’ve been blogging for nearly 26 years.

I’ve written a lot (though not as much as many others).

Here on the Zuiker Chronicles, I’ve fixed the Search page so we can now search the archives.

Click the icon at the top of any page to find the site menu, or this link, to get to the search.

For the time being, I’ve put most of my mistersugar.com blog posts behind a login, but I hope to restore most of them soon.

Read | posts, or go to the ARCHIVES.