Native of San Diego, transplant to Nevada, I moved to Reno in 1992 to pursue a masters degree in geology, and then stayed. I worked in the mining industry, in underground gold mines, open pits in the middle of the snowy winter, and chased surface drill rigs around the state, looking for more gold to mine. Mining in Nevada, and the world, stereotypically is boom-bust, just like the construction and housing industry, Wall Street, and any other human endeavor. When the gold market crashed in the late 1990s, I bailed from the country, taking an overseas job, and then fortunately landed private research funding, to conduct a geology dissertation study in Perú. There the Andes opened a new world, one of wonder, and hard work. I met my wife in Perú, completed the doctoral program, and re-entered the gold mining industry with renewed vigor. I have spent the last seven years combing the desert of Nevada, skirting the bombing range, drifting through Rachel and Vegas, slumming in remote desert towns, ghost towns, and camping under the starry nights. During these real life adventures, I spent the evenings writing, in absence of television, or friends, and I have endured significant time away from home and hearth. In addition to maintaining a healthy array of scientific journal publications, I began exploring the mindscapes induced by long barren Nevadan highways, the quiet endless horizons, and time to think. Thusly, I have put forth a recreation guide to Highway 395, a geology guide to the John Muir Trail, my memoirs of geologic fieldwork in Perú, and two novels dealing with South American folklore; the first about a Peruvian monster called the Pishtaku, and the second a capricious forest goblin from southern Chile known as El Trauco (soon to be released). The Legend of Donnie Hatt internalized the home market, the job market, the starkness of the Nevada rough wilderness always before me, and it was a lot of fun to write. I hope you enjoy it.