We've gotta go back!

We've gotta go back! Or maybe we don't. Sometimes the compass direction changes. Sometimes the world asks you to be back east and when that happens, there's the potential for a shift. Instead of counting the miles up, maybe we start counting them down. It's almost as though we've been building up the adventure to a crescendo and maybe there's supposed to be some kind of climax before there's a bit of falling action and a conclusion. And, while maybe this was true in the past, it seems as though with growth and experience there is an accumulation of knowledge and maybe even some wisdom? Wise? Me? I doubt it. 

In order to make sense of this blog, I offer you another important piece to the puzzle that is life. We as human beings, are time travelers. You see unlike trees that are place holders, animals are free to move about through time. We can change our location and we have even invented ways to "improve" our ability to get to different places, except we always have to pay for it ... and the price is Time. 

But what is Time really?

We can look at it in several ways ... 1) As a period in time 2) As period of time, or 3) to confuse things even more, we can see that time is just a space holder similar to the trees. 

An example of a period in time could be the 1800's. A period of time could be 4 to 6 months. And if we realize that time is only a space holder we can use the power in this realization and make "Time" actually stand still. 

To continue on with this thread, let's see through the lense of a period in time that was less than 200 years ago. Using our imagination we could envision people riding across the country in covered wagons. We could see them with pots and pans clanging, clothing tattered and worn, eaten by mosquitoes, and probably caked in a layer of dusty dirt. We would see folks that were suffering from the loss of loved ones who may have died of dysentery, drowned in a river or maybe they'd been killed by an indigenous tribe. We could imagine their sunburnt skin, the broken wheels, the smelly oxen, the incessant bouncing, the icy cold nights with campfires to keep warm and worried husband's and father's sleeping with rifles on their laps. With danger, illness, and death lurking around every corner, they would navigate foreign terrain through grassy plains and over steep mountains.

Back in that time, folks traveled the Oregon Trail for about 5 months in search of a better life or maybe to run from a shittier one. They followed the ruts carved into the earth by other oxen drawn carts. Folks would literally pack up their lives, sell off their land, and buy or build some wagons so they could take the months long journey across the rugged terrain and Tribal lands. Often plagued by illness, injuries, and death, some would succumb to the perils and others would find peace in the movement and the chaos of it all. Sometimes folks would stumble upon an enterprising idea. For example, maybe someone should build a boat and start a ferry service, or maybe someone should stay and create an outpost for other folks to utilize as they made their way west. And in this way, a variety of communities were established along the "Trail." 

If we look at the idea of Time as a space holder, we might see that the folks who lived in the moment fared better in it and through it . To help paint a picture of time let's look again at one of those place holding trees. Outside of the Blue mountains there once stood a lone pine tree for many years. The fur traders, the indigenous people, and pioneers could recognize their location as the tree could be seen from miles around. Judging by its size in the distance across the vast prairie land, they would know how far they had traveled or how much farther they would have to go. Then one day, a human decided that he was going cut the lone pine down.

I don't tell this story to paint the picture of an outlaw with whom I do not agree, but to simply show that without the tree, there isn't any anticipation. And when anticipation of waiting or the counting of time is cut off, then only the moment is left.

Keeping with the idea of time travel, when one heads east, the clocks are pushed forward an hour every couple hundred miles or so. So in going back, it's as if you step into the future, but it's also headed toward the past in that the sun has already set over the land in front of you. The crazy thing is this...Time didn't change at all, since we are  always in the present. Right now, it's 24 different clock times on our planet. When does this happen in the movie? Now. We're actually always watching now, now. 

It's only in our minds that we can travel to other places and times. We can think of and imagine any past event or potential future happening. Our minds' powers of time travel are so strong that we can even grieve a loss that hasn't yet occured. We can literally be homesick for a home that we never had. We can imagine what it would be like to be married, or to have a home, or to win the Stanley Mug Championship. And if we don't get that house or the love of our life chooses someone else, or we don't have the happy marriage we dreamt up, or your team doesn't get to compete for the mug for which you yearned and cheered all season for, we can actually feel the pain of that loss! 

If we take a moment to think of our own inevitable death, we can even write our own obituary and if you do it seriously, you will probably shed some tears for the life and death that you imagined.

When the pain of loss is real and not only imagined, how do we get through such pain? We must use the real power of our minds! Meditation is a practice that enables us to quiet the egoic mind. The sometimes (often) incessant voice in our heads will keep blabbering if we don't take action and find something else to focus on.

Practice with me now. Take a moment and focus on your breathing. Don't try to control it, just let it happen subconsciously. Your task is to experience each breath fully. Feel the air rush in through your nostrils. Pay attention to the rising and falling of your chest and abdomen. Notice the sounds the air makes as it is exhaled. Count the breaths softly noting them as they come and go. Or you might just make a slight mental note of "in" and "out" with each passing breath.

Do it. 

Seriously. Take a minute. These words will still be here when you get back.

Feel better? 

Good. 

Another way to quiet the mind is to get yourself into a flow state. Flow is achieved when we engage in activities that we have efficacy for and in which we feel challenged. Surly you have heard an athlete say that they were in "the zone". If you ever participated in a sport you probably felt alive in the present moment in this way. With practice, even mundane tasks can be accomplished in a flow state. The background noise of the cheering fans, the opposition or even just the music being played in the background will disappear as you zone in and get into the flow.

Though I have found myself able to get in a flow state during many activities in my life from playing guitar to hiking, and from playing soccer to writing, or even just becoming absorbed in activities like driving, particularly when off-roading in intense driving conditions, we can also get there in our love making or even when cleaning the house. Imagine you have company coming over and only a few minutes to get the place clean. The added stress can help get you into the zone. If you don't get overwhelmed and frustrated, you might find that before long the place is clean and the party is already under way. 

Being immersed in an activity that has an element of potential danger can get us into a flow state as well. Climbing rocks or trees, surfing on ocean waves, hiking on extreme mountainous rocky terrain and cycling down steep grades at high speeds are some of my go-to flow state activities. I suggest you find something you are good at and immerse yourself in it. You might enjoy where it takes you. 

This brings us to the next piece of the puzzle. In September, we completed the coast to coast to coast trek by crossing through the eastern states from the midwest to the shores of North Carolina. The goal in mind was to  arrive in time to catch some killer waves. 

The forecast began to shape up and conditions became optimal for a couple of days after one of the many Hurricanes came through. As a novice surfer I was a bit intimidated by the 5-8 foot swells. I stood and stared out at the walls of water as they rose up, curled over and came crashing down again and again. I felt a wave of anxiety rise within me while I studied the breakers searching out patterns and wondering how I would be able to paddle out over or through them. I forced myself into the water. I waded out with my boogie board at first, just to get aquatinted with the shear power of nature and to hopefully ease my fears.

Photo credit L. Perry

After catching a couple of rides it became apparent that I might be in over my head, both literally and figuratively, but decided to give it my all and strapped the leash of the 8 foot foam rental to my leg. As I paddled out the anxious feelings swelled with each wave encountered. Then after each situation was successfully navigated, the anxiety slowly morphed into more of an excitement. I began to trust my training and when an 8 footer came crashing down and I rolled into the turtle position just before it did, I could feel the raw power of the wave as it passed me by. When I popped up a few moments later on the other side, I pulled myself back onto the board and paddled into the next one. There was a feeling of relief coupled with a growing confidence. With each passing wave, it seemed more and more likely that my abilities would be able to get me out beyond the breaking waves and more importantly, back to the shore.

Sitting on the middle of the board and working to keep my balance I felt the rising and falling of each passing ripple. Then, after fumbling a few times by paddling in and then popping up too soon allowing several waves to pass me by, I eventually caught one and rode it in. I could feel the push as the ocean propelled me forward. Rising up to my feet, I kept my balance for as long as I ever had. Being that it was near high tide, the wave carried me all the way to where the ocean meets the land. This was a new situation for me and I had no idea what the correct course of action should be. There wasn't any time to think! Only time to act. And when I ran out of real estate, I jumped off the front of the board and ran up the beach! I felt it was a dismount worthy of a full 10 points. 

This ride was one of my best ever, but the next one was even better but for different reasons. It was the second day of surfing and the conditions were now given a full 5 star rating. Smooth water with nice curling waves, a current that didn't push you up or down the beach and a slight off shore breeze. I had just paddled out through some of the most intimidating waves I have yet to encounter when I felt that I was for sure beyond the breakers and I had stopped to rest briefly. I felt the board rise and fall a few times as the passing waves swelled up and lowered me back down. Then all of a sudden, from closer to the shore a friend of mine who is a more accomplished surfer, shouted to me "Turn around and paddle out!" I turned to look over my shoulder and a giant wall of water was rising up so I did what I thought made the most sense. I just paddled faster! I felt the powerful wave come tumbling down but managed to stay afloat and realized that I had actually been propelled forward. The wave was pushing me toward the shore but I hadn't yet stood up. I hadn't even made my way to my knees. The realization that I was actually riding the biggest wave I have ever encountered was mind blowing. I convinced myself that I had to get to my feet or it just wouldn't count. So, I got to my knees quickly found my balance and brought my left foot between my hands. I stood there for an eternity. I found myself staring down at the top of the board, then I brought my eyes to focus on more of my surroundings. I glanced to the right, then to the left, then behind me and I saw the glorious white frothy water curling over to my right and I adjusted my feet a little and the board turned slightly, I adjusted and leaned a little and it turned the other way.  The board and I moved in unison and I was in control. Adrenaline was pumping through my arteries and my veins. I felt the rush. It was mesmerizing. There was absolutely nothing else on Earth. There I was, alone on this tiny blue object, floating on the frothy ocean water with the smell of salt and sea in the air and the sandy beach sparkling ahead. All of it bonded together in a connection made possible by Mother Nature and the ingenuity of man. And for that brief moment everything had become One. 

The oneness of it all... The Earth, the Moon, the Sun, everything in the solar system, the Galaxy and even every particle in this version of the multiverse... All of it, all of me, all of us, converged together in one moment. There are only a few quiet moments in life where I have felt this way. This one though, is one that I will continue to go back to. Like I said before we gotta go back, but maybe we gotta go back with the hope that we can continue to tap into the power of the present moment. It is in the moment that time ceases to exist and all is still. Namaste my friends

Surf and Turf

Digging a cat hole is a learned skill and one often encounters a variety of situations upon which the hole is dug. The first hole is not the deepest. It is not the most refined. It might be a crude depression created with the heal of one's boot or it might be something dug with a piece of stick or a wedge shaped stone. Eventually one graduates to a trowel. Those who break the orange plastic cathole creator graduate to the titanium shovel. As time goes by we each encounter a variety of soils and situations and each leaves an impression. Oregon is one of the places where it has been quite pleasurable to dig and there have been several beautiful places to have a movement. 

As dry and dusty as this arid environment is, the dirt is quite easily dug and each of the past few holes have made me appreciate the soil here. If you are having any reservations about hiking in Oregon because you think maybe the high desert is not for you, do reconsider. I was never more grateful to have easily dug soil as I was when we encountered swarms of mosquitoes that could rival the biblical locusts. Moving provides enough respite to keep ones sanity, but stopping or slowing could lead to endless cursing and swatting interspaced with tiny stings on any and every available surface suitable for feasting. There are zero skin surfaces that are exempt from the constant, often kamakazee, critter bites. 

It has been a little dry and water might have become an issue had there not been a water cache, but there seems to be ample water, especially if you decide to carry a ton of it and camel up when you can. A down side to being hydrated is that you will have to pee. This is all well and good in normal hiking circumstances, but these are trying times. The ladies adopted a swat and squat method while I found some success is refining my gunslinger on the run technique. 

It also seems appropriate that this post is partially about taking a poop as sometimes a couple of hikers get together and it seems as though it is written, in an ancient cultural text somewhere, that, "When two or more hikertrash gather, so too will there be at least one conversation about going poo." It is very good to be back with my people. 

On a different note, when we were in California there was an opportunity to surf in the Pacific Ocean, but there were also a few parameters that made it slightly unappealing. The water was cold, it was an unfamiliar place, there wasn't a local friend to show me the ropes, the air temperature was 66°, and all that whining gave me a feeling of trepidation, so I knew it had to be done. Shut up little sneaky ego mind! Shut up pain body! I will do the things!! As it turns out, renting a wet suit and renting a surf board and then hiring a surf instructor to give you a two hour lesson is worth every penny. Because I was willing to override that old man curmudgeon voice in my head, I had one of the best experiences in the ocean to date.

We started the lesson on land and the instructor kept to his scripted 3 point lesson and I was pleased with his instruction. Knowing his students will only retain a bit of information, he followed the basic tenent of "keeping it simple" and before long we were waist deep in the frothy ocean water and I was shredding up the icy whitewater. The wetsuit performed surprisingly well and I didn't feel the cold of the 58° water. Knees, foot forward,and pivot... Success! I m surfing! Ok, ok, I get it, this tip will help prevent the nose dive. The shifting of weight is an essential part of the sport.

The ocean also teaches us to have better balance. Balance is one of the important lessons that Mr. Miyagi teaches. Remember him sending Danielson into the ocean and he also fished while he told Larusso to "Stand bow."  Balance in work and play, family and work, relationships etc .... The most important lessons of the ocean were still to be discovered.

When we decided it was time to get out beyond the breakers and  paddle in to catch a wave the next lesson was to "Work with the currents; don't fight them." In life we sometimes have a tendency to go against the grain or rebel without a cause. Sometimes, "we fight city hall" only to waste time, energy and resources when there is actually a better way to "skin the cat". Choose your battles carefully might be the underlying lesson here.

We observed and found that there was a bit of a rip current forming as the tide rolled back in. In the rip, there are less waves and the water has a tendency to "pull" you out into the ocean. Once out beyond the breaking waves, one only has to paddle left or right to find that the current loosens it's grip. 

Next we spent some time observing other surfers as well as the properties of each swell as it passed. 

Sometimes it's simply about being in the right place at the right time. But it's also about knowing how to find that place, and recognizing it when its happening. A keen eye and understanding what to look for are both important. The bottom of the ocean dictates the shape of the wave, and where and how it will break. So, in theory, if a wave comes along the same size as the one you just watched, it should behave similarly. Therefore the right place can be in about the same place for a little while. 

Then you start learning when to begin paddling so that you catch the wave instead of having it pass you by or have it come crashing down on you. There are many errors you can make and adjusting accordingly is something that takes several trials. 

Surfing is also about yielding to the forces of nature. When you miss a ride or you get carried just far enough into the place where the next larger waves are breaking, it's important to keep your head and know your options so you can best expend your energy. Sometimes it's better to let the waves carry you back to shore even if it's just so you can ride some whitewater in. Then you can go back out in the rip. 

At the end of the day, surfing and climbing are alike in that they are both very present moment activityies. While they are wildly different, they require focus with the goal of being in a flow state. During one activity you have to be like Spiderman, and in the other you are like the Silver Surfer. Superhero status aside, maybe it's about embracing the words of Bruce Lee who said, "Be like water." Yeah, definitely, be like water. 

They will never take our Freedom!

Sorry this took over a year to finish and I might have photos on my laptop, but my phone did end up in the Madison river. 

I am of Scottish descent. However, my whole life I have identified with my Italian heritage. My mother's foster family and my father's family are both Italian. My grandmother grew up speaking an Italian dialect. It was easy. It made sense. Italians eat big pasta dinners on Sunday with tomato gravy, they enjoy watching movies like Good Fellas and The Godfather, and say things like fougetaboutit and "How YOU doin?" 

I admit I knew little of Scotland or the Scottish in general, but all that I have learned of this country and the people, as well as the rich and incredible history of the land has fascinated me. As it turns out, we are descended of a clan from the north and they are one of the ones known as Picts; the face painted and body art fierce warrior types. 

I met a fella from the Mcleod clan who worked in a store in Mulngavie (Mallguy) and we talked tartans and family crests. He told me of a great kilt maker I should contact when I inquired on the subject. He spoke joyfully to us about the Scots and he was genuinely interested in helping me. So much so that he stepped away from the register and called another fella to help customers while we stepped outside and chatted for about 10 minutes. It was a great time. (Good kilts are not cheap though @ 435 pounds!)
Anyway, the hiking here has been incredible. We are able to get to or walk through a town or a store or two everyday. By town I mean a hotel, or a restaurant, or a bar, or some type of resource for hot food, cold drinks and Scotch whiskey. 

The local townspeople are amazing and the folks that are out walking are incredible too. Tomas and Luke have been great travel companions and though we ended up taking different adventures when the weather turned and time ran short, we still ended up in the same town, in the same place and celebrated the adventures we all partook in.

This trip has been very enjoyable and has been good food for my belly as well as my soul. The Scots have venison on many of their menus and they eat and love to embrace their cultural foods like haggis and black pudding. They fry a lot of things including Mars bars which brings me to my next point. Embrace the culture of the candy. Every culture seems to enjoy a different variety of chocolates. In the UK, Cadbury has cornered the market. The shelves are littered with a variety of chocolate candies we never see in the US: Wispy, Crunchie, Flake, Twirl, Double Deckers, Crisps... My personal favorite is called Boost. All of these can be purchased online and mailed to the US. They also have different potato chips made by Walker, which I found amusing considering we were all walkers  (hikers). The variety of flavors range from katsup to prawn cocktail, various cheese flavors and even a Worcester flavor. (No, I m not eating shrimp cocktail chips, but I did bring some home.)

As far as driving around in the UK is concerned... Well, let me tell you this, not only was the car we rented a lot of fun to drive, (a manual 6 speed right hand drive Kia Stonic) but it was also a lot of fun to cruise around on the narrow, windy roads of Scotland in the "wrong" lane when there weren't many other cars out on them. Another good point to be made here is that the real deal is to be mindful of the signage. For example they have signs that count down 3 hash marks, then 2, then 1 as you get closer to an exit. They have red x's on blue backgrounds, white hashes on red circles and a surprise to me at first was not only the amount of roundabouts, but the fact that the signal lights go from green to yellow to red, but also red to yellow to green.

Our first turn out of the parking area was probably the freakiest moment of the entire driving experience. We all felt unsure for a while, but I really felt like I was going the wrong way on a one way street. Cars were coming at us and I thought they were going to freak and swerve and blow their horns at us but they continued on, business as usual. 
It takes a team to drive your first time out for sure. The main montra I repeated over and over in my head and aloud was "wide to the right, left is tight" and second to that was "follow other cars whenever possible".
The car itself was magical. At first I was not sure how all the features worked and I was pretty tired and pumped myself full of coffee. Possibly the greatest feature, when I understood what it was and how it worked, was the lane assist. On our first ride up, I didn't even know there were 6 gears and I don't need to remind you that I drive a 1984 model van which doesn't even have power steering. Vehicles of this modern age can get 45-50 mpg without being hybrids. The lane assist is a game changer. At first it felt like there was something wrong with the car and maybe it had bad tie rods or something weird in the steering. I would feel it pulling in the opposite direction of the way I was turning the wheel! Turns out, I m used to driving on the left hand side of the lane as well as I am used to driving on the right hand side of the roads! So, I was a natural drifter. Always drifting towards the left and the car was smart enough to push me back. Later on I embraced and enjoyed this feature when cruising the narrow winding country roads of Scotland!
Maybe we all have some preconceived notions as to what a place will be like before we get there. Thinking back though, I really don't remember what I thought Scotland would be like. All I have now are visions of what it was. There were narrow winding roads, incredible people, wonderful food, glorious lochs, ornate castles, beautiful mountains and although we ran into a couple of asshole people, (They are everywhere, trust me) I feel blessed and grateful to have had the experience! 
I had wanted to buy a kilt and stand in a field on a mountainside, and recite the speech from Braveheart, but for one reason or another it never came to pass. I imagined it was a thing that silly Americans do. You know, like those silly Americans that run up the steps at the museum in Philadelphia? I wanted to record it. Maybe I would have become an internet sensation if I did? I'd rather remain anonymous though. Who needs a gaggle of reporters or paparazzi following them around anyway? I'm not sure if I would give up my life in such circumstances, but I will never let them take my Freedom!

Moths and Mysteries

Surely people have used a great many bathrooms in this world. Sometimes it's a hole they dug that serves as a toilet. Sometimes it's a bucket with a plastic bag inside. Sometimes theres a great view from the log they're sitting on. There have been gas station bathrooms with poop smeared all over the place like Hanky the Christmas poo was doing his best Picasso or Rembrandt impersonation in there earlier that day. Surly there are fancy hotels with untra soft toilet paper and a little sprinkler for cleaning your bum and there are cheap seedy motels with sandpaper on the roll. In all the many years of my  travels, of my entire life really, and the great many toilet experiences there have been, never has there ever been a time when 15 or 20 moths decided to fly out of the toilet paper roll when I went to pull off a few squares... until now! Here's the scenario. You wake up fresh and ready. Make some coffee, have some oatmeal for breakfast and empty the mouse traps. (Ye intruders beware) Then you make your way over to the pit privy in the park. A block building with very little air flow greets you with a heavy stench emmitting from the open plastic lid over the hole. Following protocols that history has taught, you wipe the seat with a sanitizing wipe and sit to take care of business. All goes well and in less than a minute you are ready to clean yourself and get on with your day. You reach for the paper roll and pull gently on the hanging tabs. Then the unexpected startles you with objects that fall and fly and begin to swarm about the room! "OH MY GOD!!" "HOLY SHIT!" Followed by, "What the fuck is that?!" Do you jump up off the toilet? Probably a 99.99% chance.
Then you focus and realize what they are. Moths. Phew, they are only moths. If you weren't awake, you are now!

In other news we found some really interesting old stones... Artifacts of some sort. Petrified? Fossilized? Ancient for sure, but what exactly... I do not know.
Sometimes things are meant to be a mystery. Sometimes things are meant to be put in a museum. Sometimes they are meant to be taken home and kept as a momento. But sometimes things are meant to be left right where you found them. Today I found that out.
Teddy Roosevelt believed he could and should go out into the world and bring back specimens for science. He wanted them to be studied and then left on display for those who couldn't afford to or were not able to go out on their own to discover them. Indiana Jones believed that culturally important and rare items should also be on display or maybe studied by scientists. "It belongs in a museum!" Was his tag line.

On the way to a slot canyon inside Grand Staircase Escalante National Monument, there is a sign that reads, "No Collecting". No collecting of what? It does not say. Further investigation at this point has not lead me to any real solid answers but the pieces of history that were found I decided would be best left for others to discover on their own. Maybe 500 or 1000 years from now, a young adventurous family will venture out to see the slot canyon. Maybe it will be thousands of years from now and the slot canyon is wider. In either case, wouldn't it be much more exciting for a child in that family to sift through the sand in the washout and discover the fragments left behind by those who dared venture out before them? Had the landscape been deprived of these artifacts, the only wonder for those people to discover could be a mere tunnel like cavity. Not that slot canyons in and of themselves are not an incredible spectacle, an incredible experience, because they are. But, finding treasures that were buried millions of years ago, that were then encased in stone, frozen in time for centuries, and then unearthed by the forces of nature, this my friends is an experience to behold!

What other mysteries are being unearthed on this journey? Are we guided? Is there a thing such as fate? What does it really mean to be a Dharma bum? Is it not just following your inner spirit? If your purpose is to be in accord with the Tao, "The Way" then the Qi, the life force, should guide our actions in accord. If we encounter each day with Wu Wei, or unforced spontaneity or effortless action, shouldn't the life we are living feel as though everything is right in the world? Often, I feel like it does. Then there are days where the little monkey brain voice inside my head tries to act as though it is in control. What happens then? Frustration happens! That's what happens. Yeilding seems to lead to outcomes that are pleasant. There are less anxieties. Making a plan to go climbing, and then encountering "by chance" other climbers who are interested in having you join them for a sport climb, seems less likely when you are out of alignment. Is there really a guiding force? Are we out here floating like a bird riding on thermals? Are we swished around by unseen currents?
Afloat in lake Powell, one can feel the forces of nature on one's self. The cool temperature of the liquid. The warmth of the sun. The waves created by the winds or the ripples sent to the shore by passing boats. Afloat, we are set in motion by the natural world. If we use a fresh mind to see the world, to experiemce each moment as though it were the first moment of its kind, being the "uncarved block" of intention, attention and experience, then as the world unfolds before us, amazing mysteries and experiences aught to unfold before our very eyes. I challenge you to try it.
Lately, we have found that we are leaving a trail of chance encounters behind and each one seems to have us feeling a little better for having had the experience. When the intention is to be immersed in our current reality we no longer see the divisions. We see the links that bring us together. This being said, I've given and received. I have given physical objects, and received food or shelter in return. I have given energy and love and have received them both as well. I have experienced the beauty of grand places and have been visited by humming birds while meditating. The seals and sea lions of coastal California sing and dance in the water for me, while the flowers bloom and spread pleasant aromas through the air for me to smell. I feel the ocean breeze and the rays of sunshine on my skin. The winds might sweep me your way and I hope they do. For I look forward to the experiences we will share, though I know not what they will be. Continue to be kind to one another. Have love and compassion, for the Dali Lama says they are necessities, not luxuries. Without them, humanity can not survive.

A harbor seal swims by

Sunrise outside of Bishop CA

The milky way will make you feel small.

Bone fragments? Petrified poop? A perfect mushroom cap made of stone?

Back to the Future!

People often have mantras that keep them going. Little sayings of advice to sometimes adhere to or a motto that grounds them or gives them focus or peace. "A list of examples?" you ask. Sure: to thine own self be true, be prepared, the price of security is insecurity, no regrets, love more, have the serenity, courage and wisdom, or maybe the lesser known, always forward, never back. 

In The Terminator, Arnold Schwartzeneggar's famous tag line, "I'll be back" is so threatening, but it can also be seen as a promise. Sure we might come back with vengeance, but in life we can also come back for love. 

Doc Brown tells Marty, "We've gotta go back!" Back where?... Back to the future, back in time, back to Colorado, back to the mountains, back to the coast, back to the ocean, back to Florida, back to work... "whoah, whaoh, whaoh, hold on a second. Let's not go back there again." Until we find a better way, no matter the circumstances, we will have to just keep going back. We even go back to our old habits. (One thing about Covid, I finally stopped biting my nails. Occasionally I find that there's a tendency to go back. But, I have protocols in place and I catch myself and shut it down.) Moving on, or is it back to the point being made. Going back to past hurts is not always bad. We can find healing if we look for it. Going back to familiar places is comforting. Going back home at the end of a long day, at the end of a vacation, or a work trip...this can bring a good feeling even just thinking about it. Or maybe going back home meant you were going to get in trouble because you snuck out and were probably going to get caught sneaking back in, either drunk or in love, or maybe both. (Worth it!) 

Going back to a routine. Going back to the dentist, or going back to sleep. As it turns out, going forward is often going back. 

So, here we are resting on a US forest service road, in beautiful Colorado. (Yup. It's good to be back.) There's a river flowing nearby and the otherwise quiet night offers serenity. There were a few humps to get over along the way, (literal and figurative) but here we are, doing it. Being our best selves. Sometimes it's like, maybe we are Dharma bums?

There is something to be said of having a plan. We all make plans. At least I think we do. Our plan for the summer was shattered when this pandemic struck the world. At that time the outline was international travel to Japan, some time spent in Maine and a trip to Hawaii with short weekend adventures and possibly some work sprinkled in. Then things changed and it was back to the comfortable routine. Go to Tennessee, then Florida for some van projects. We were still planning to head to Maine, but that changed as well. A couple of broken window seals and a struggle to install the new window, had me looking at a journey back to Colorado for a shop that could install the window near the vender that sells the seals. I would buy one more seal and they could install it. (3 seals, a window, shipping, and an adventure across time zones later) Is the window worth it? It has only been a few days, but it gets used often. Call that a small victory? Maybe.

Then consider this... it hasn't cost me anything! While we were in Florida considering the trip back to Colorado, a call comes in asking for a driver to move my friends neighbor from Jacksonville to Boulder. The man was looking for someone to drive a uhaul truck with his belongings from point A to point B while paying for hotel rooms and a flight back to point A after the journey. We negotiated a deal that included paying for a trailer to tow my van to Colorado, gas money and a few bucks a day for my time. Worth it!

It was really a win/win on so many levels. Her neighbor had his belongings transported safely by a professional driver for a low cost and we arrived safely in Colorado, a place we wanted to go, and it didn't cost us a dime and we even made a few bucks to cover future travel expenses as well. I was discussing the details of the arrangement with another good friend and he said that traveling across the country for me was like being in the burrito club at the place down the street. After you eat a certain number of burritos, you get the next one free. 

On top of the financial aspect to the journey, Wilson and I were able to meet up with some of our friends along the way. The first night was spent at a random Walmart in Georgia. Then we rolled in 10 hours of driving later at my AT start date buddy's place outside of Memphis. We met up with another good friend of ours and went out for some delicious southern BBQ. We sat around and talked deeply about life, meditation, alcoholism, relationships, laughter and love. One of them had this to say the next day. 

"Hell yeah! It was my pleasure. I had a damn good time with y'all yesterday. We were three travelers/seekers on our own path through our own wilderness and we all made camp for a night in the same clearing. We got to share with one another our own stories, skills, and thoughts and feelings we have acquired so far on our journey. Now we can each put these new ideas in our packs and continue on our own way a little better for the meeting and little more knowledgeable to help ourselves and others! It was a great encounter as always my brothers! Have a fucking blast on your trip!" As you can see, it was great time being back in the company of these men.

The next night we traveled through Missouri to Kansas! (Oh Kansas. You are the gatekeeper. "Are you the keymaster?") Once over the line we made our way to some farmland outside of Topeka where another friend of ours resides. We chatted some, I met his dad Skip, toured his uncle's farm, ventured out to the pig pens, (standing down wind is rough, also, their boar and his sows are huge!) climbed into the cockpit of some gigantic farm equipment, and we also gave them a tour of our rig. 

They were excited to talk about vanlife and the details that make Wilson as great as he is. Then Skip noticed that the 2 trailer tires on the passenger side were warn out pretty badly. After a phone call to the local uhaul we found ourselves downtown waiting for a roadside technician to come and replace them both. We left the truck and trailer in the parking lot and took a ride a few blocks to sit down for a meal. The food was savory, plentiful, and paired well with one of the local brews. Being back in Kansas turned out to be really good on so many levels. It's a very different place to go back to when you know someone that can show you around.

The last leg of the journey took us back to Colorado, back to my friend's house, back to Boulder and back in time. The adventure gods have shined a bright light on us along the way and the attitude that we sow, one of gratitude and flexibility, continues bear good fruit. Some of us struggle with daylight savings time and the changes it brings to our internal clock. The time warp of driver lag is similar and can cause irritability, anxiety and stress that can lead to frustrations and more irritability. 

It can become a viscous cycle if we don't keep it in check. Stay hydrated, eat, and sleep when you are tired. It helps that there isn't much of a schedule to keep out here. The other day, sitting in the back seat, I found myself wondering what time it was and if I should make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or not. Was it too early for lunch? I realized my phone was on the charger in the cockpit and the clock on the radio wasn't correct. I had a tiny moment of frustration then I decided it didn't matter what time it actually was, because it was peanut butter and jelly sandwich time.

A realization that occured to me the other day during one of my meditative sessions is that each breath we take, though they are finite, has the ability to bring us peace if we allow it. We do not know how many breaths we will take in this lifetime. We do not know how many heart beats we will get. We won't know what death is until it comes to take us away. We can spend our breaths worrying, or fighting, hating or hurting. We can spend them together or we can spend them apart. We can spend them happy or sad, angry, tired, and frustrated or we can spend them content and at peace. Each breath. Every. Single. One. Has the ability to bring with it a little bit of peace if we allow it. I will leave you now with the parting words of Vigo the Carpathian, "Death is but a door. Time is but a window. I will be back"

You're Welcome

Interestingly enough, today I found out that someone found Fenn's Gold. That quest has officially ended. For me though, I had already found so much while on that adventure. The biggest takeaways from that search are to live life fully in the present moment and to include other people in your life. I am still working on my meditation practice and enjoy life in the present moment. Yes my mind wanders. Yes my egoic mind still plays games and seeks attention. I am human after all. Mindfulness is also having an awareness of your body as well as your surroundings: soaking up the sun and smelling the roses and hearing the birds or the ocean waves and feeling the wind in your hair as well as breathing and clearing the clutter of our minds. (In the current environment with a deadly virus being potentially on any surface and being carried by anyone that we encounter, it is good to have mindfulness as a tool in your kit and searching for Fenn's treasure really showed me what being present is all about.)

So, after a few weeks in Florida building and repairing our vans, Jeeps and other vehicles, we made some changes to our "outline" of adventure. We had been planning a trip up to Maine followed by a westward swing, but the universe seems to be pulling us in a different direction. Maybe it is better to yield and go with the flow than to fight the current? We just spent a few days surfing and playing in the ocean where we experienced both strong and mild currents. Riding the wave in is always a good feeling even if it takes you under water, it won't keep you down too long. And fighting a strong current will just wear you out.
Instead of hunkering down for a few more days in the humidity of Satan's armpit, waiting for parts to arrive from Colorado, we opted to accept an invitation to the beach which turned into a really incredible adventure!

Planning such a trip as this one, which was rather spur of the moment, was easy. Ask the right questions and the right answers are readily available and easily received. Where? When? How far? What route? Who do I know along the way? Is there enough time?
Made some calls, dotted some i's and crossed a few t's and we were on our way before we knew it.
Being prepared is a big part of being flexible and going with the flow is easier when you have the tools to make the most of what comes your way. When making choices there is an "en-gathering" phase. Generally speaking it's better to make choices with more information than with less and somewhere there is a line that you cross where you have enough. How do you know when you are looking for too much information? If you have confidence in the choice you are making, then there was likely enough, but know that you can always make new decisions to manage your choice along the way.
Case in point. It's15 hours of travel from point A to point B and it requires a ferry ride. I prefer to not drive more that 8 or 10 hours a day though I can put in 12 or more especially when headed through the "middle" of nowhere. (Think places like Arkansas, Missouri, Oklahoma, Kansas, the Dakota's, Iowa, Indiana, Nebraska. Basically flat rows of farmland or pastures with few trees, hills or turns.) It's also easier to drive later into the day when you are driving west into the sunset as the days are longer that way.
The ferry has a schedule and it's better to book a spot on the ferry or you might be left waiting several hours or even till the next day to get on one. My friend informed me to book a ferry in advance, so I did. When I submitted my order for a ferry ticket they said there were only 4 spaces left on the 4:30pm boat, the third and final ride of the day.
Now I could have easily stopped at a rest area or a superstore to get some sleep for the night, but instead reached out to my good friend who now lives conveniently located, you guessed it, 10 hours of driving from point A. It was on the weekend and she wasn't feeling up to doing much but we had a great dinner, a relaxing evening watching some Netflix and a wonderful time catching up. We slept soundly with air conditioning that kept us cool and then sat chatting over coffee until it was time for me to go.

The drive to the ferry was pleasant and there was little by way of traffic to slow us down. The website asked that folks arrive at least a half hour before departure or else they consider you to be late. I had ten minutes to spare according to their guidelines and ended up having a ferry that delayed it's boarding but I didn't mind one bit. Another friend of mine recently said, "Never hurry. Never worry."

Having a van like this always encourages folks to start some delightful conversation. Even on the ferry there were folks stopping by to talk about this "cool old VW" or how they owned a "73 squareback" or how this reminded them of their "old bus that they had years ago." One older gentleman who was called Grampa by a younger woman, brought his sister by for a while. We chatted about the features and she told me she really wanted to buy a van to live in. She assured me "I could do it." Anyone can really. They just have to be willing to adjust and make the necessary changes. Sometimes though the struggle is real!

So, after arriving at the island, where my friends were waiting in the parking lot to greet me, we drove a few blocks to a restaurant to have some dinner. (All the food for the entire weekend was incredibly delicious.)

After dinner we took the dogs to the beach and we walked along the edge of where the ocean meets the land. The sand, stone and shells gently tapped and danced on our feet and our ankles as we stood there: the rhythmic swooshing and crashing of the waves soothing our tired bodies and minds.

The crabs were also out dancing and darting from one place to another. The dogs chased after them playfully and we ended up catching a few them. One was able to grab on and "bite" the tip of my finger before I let him go. Ouch! It was also really fun to see all the animals eyes reflecting in light of our headlamps. It was as if all the crabs on the beach were coming out to say "You're welcome. Thanks for stopping by."

On the walk back my friend, she's adorable, she really is, "This place is so incredible and you are going to absolutely love it, but you have to put up with the bugs in order to enjoy the rest of what the island has to offer." Now I was just in Florida where the mosquitoes come out in swarms during the evening hours. They mostly fly around near the ground and make a meal out of your legs and ankles. They are kind of small and have these little black and white striped legs, but their most memorable quality is that they are a real pain in the ass for a few hours every night.

The mosquitoes on the island are a very different breed. They are slightly larger and they are all black. When we got back to the campground, I kind of sat there on the picnic table expecting to just sit around chatting over a beer, but that's not how the mosquitoes want it to be. They drove us into our respective vehicles. We bid each other good night knowing that a long restful night's sleep would energize us for the full day of fun and adventure the next day.

The mosquitoes had other plans. They were not like the crabs. They had a very different tune to sing. It was more like reading the map from the Goonies...

"Ye intruders beware! Crushing death and grief, soaked with blood of the trespassing thief."

Breaking Out

Breaking things isn't always good but it isn't always bad either. Sometimes we break stuff when we are angry and it makes us feel better. We smash things and it can be cathartic. We harbor angst and then release it. I have split wood and had a similar experience. The TV series Sex Education on Netflix shows this in a few episodes. Sometimes we break bolts, we break our bones, we break plastic or glasses when we drop them. We break things all the time and sometimes we can fix them. Sometimes we burn photos and sometimes we rip them to shreds and sometimes we just end up breaking hearts. Other times things get worn out and they just stop working. Broken belts, broken hoses, broken bearings, broken motors, etc... 
Breaking out of a rut or changing the cycle, or breaking out of your old habits can also be good for us. Since the CDC recommended not touching your face, I have broken the lifelong habit of biting my fingernails! Habit. Broken. Mindfulness has been a big part of staying safe out there "in the jungle" as it were. It's important to stay present, make decisions and manage them as time goes by. Breaking out of work season and making the decision to head for FL with a stop or two along the way was not an easy choice. Leaving NY meant a lot of things. One thing that I don't want to give too much power to... When I left home, it may be that the pandemic could take my loved ones before I return. Are they being smart, playing it safe, and being mindful of their surroundings? Sure. And my mother continues to pray daily. All good things but it doesn't change the fact that we live in a hot spot of trouble when it comes to this virus. Anyway, breaking out was something I had to do. Summer is here and it's time to continue living life on my terms. Everyone has that right. Jack lived his way, he died his way too. We don't have to love people's choices even if we love those people. We can only hope that they decide to make better choices on their own.

Last summer I tried to write a few blogs but the spirit wasn't there. This writer knows he could have done better. "No! Try not! Do or do not. There is no try." Here we are again. Broken out of the funk!
We spent a few weeks preparing and gathering gear and loading the van and upgrading and installing parts and making space and figuring where does everything belong. What is this space for and where do we store this or that. New interior lights, new charging ports, interior decorating and new upholstery. Replaced the broken sink pump, replaced the old fiberglass insulation with wool and even purchased a new cutting board. 

Hopping in the van I questioned bringing the bike and bringing my climbing rope and harness. Why wouldn't you take it all? There's room for it. Always better to be safe than sorry. Most everything proves to be useful at one point. Even decided to bring the electric heater and for that I am grateful too. The nights have been cold here but having access to electricity is also a game changer. Yes, we have battery powered fans and an inverter that can power the laptop for movie night if the weather is horrible. Yes, there really isn't a need for a laptop, there are always books to read; there are several stashed in the library. Sometimes the little luxuries are nice to have in life though. 

So, it's time to leave and after I hug my mother for the first time in months, we head west a little then south along the familiar route. Before long, with very little traffic on the highways and byways we're making good time when the daylight begins to fade. We were just about to hit Maryland and I take notice that the fuel tank needs replenished. After hopping off the exit, stopping at a Sheetz, turning off the van to pump the gas, making a call and taking a leak, Wilson starts right back up and we're off. A few minutes later, I notice that the fan for the AC seems to have quit so I make a decision to pull over and see if it's a fuse or relay, or maybe it's a worn out motor? After I shut the van down again I reach for my voltmeter and check for volts at the motor. 9.4v. Oh no. Is the battery dead? Try to start the van back up... Nothing. Shit! Best guess is after a couple years of a diode giving up, the alternator finally broke. In short, quick test, call the nearest autoparts, grab a saddle bag and a ratchet strap, write a note and head off for the store 7 miles away on the trusty steed. Chastity's Buckle came through yet again and after a few hours riding around down memory lane, the battery is installed, the van starts back up and it's shut down again. Install the alternator in the next 20 minutes and we're in the driver's seat again in no time. Turn the key... Moment of truth. Engine cranks and starts right up... Battery light stays illuminated. Shit. Maybe it's not the alternator? A couple diagnostic tests later reveals the truth. They sold me a broken alternator. Seems everything is broken anymore. Truth is, we're all a little broken. Don't worry. Be happy. Stay present and remember the only good thing that Bill Hicks ever said, "It's just a ride."