A Drowned Rat

I woke up this morning to rain on the tent at about 5:30. Somehow I managed to go back to sleep just long enough for the rain to subside, and it held off long enough for me to have coffee, enjoy a few more breaths of high altitude air, and pack up camp.

I stopped off at the Chamber of Commerce in Cloudcroft to use their Internet, and I encountered another thing that I miss a lot about living in New Mexico:

Sure, we have them in Seattle, but not nearly as many, and they seem more active here. Maybe it's just more nostalgia on my part.

I left Cloudcroft to the east, and almost immediately hit rain. It wasn't much, so I kept pushing through it. By the time I reached Artesia I was ready for a break and some coffee to warm me up. I pulled into the 76 station got some coffee and got on the phone to try and find a meeting in Pecos, TX. While I was on the phone it started to rain harder, and within 5 minutes the streets were rivers:

They were full from curb to curb with 1 - 3 feet of water. If you have never seen this in the desert then it is hard to believe, but it happens. You see, in a place that doesn't get rain very often the city planners don't spend much time on water drainage. So when it does rain really hard the streets fill up. I wasn't going anywhere for a while, so I made some other phone calls, chatted with the attendants, and watched the rain come down.

After about an hour I decided I would just get a room in Artesia for the night and call it a day, but as I was riding out to go find a hotel the 'tide' started to go out and I saw clear sky toward Carlsbad. I decided to go for it, and to my surprise it was clear and sunny the whole way. I had gotten pretty wet leaving Artesia and as I looked down Highway 295 toward Pecos all I saw was black, so Carlsbad was as far as I was going. Good thing too, because as soon as I got my bags into the room and the bike parked it started to pour again. I had made the right choice.

I looked up a meeting in Carlsbad and found the Carlsbad Group. The trouble was that I didn't want to get back on the bike and get all wet again, so I called the hot-line a few times to see bout a ride, but no answer. So I stayed in, ordered a pizza with pepperoni and green chile (because you can do that here), and sat back to rest up for tomorrow.

Right around 8 o'clock I got a phone call from Jerry, one of the guys I had talked to about a meeting in Pecos. He just wanted to check in and see what had happened to me during the rest of the day. I can't think of any other organization on the planet where people wolf do something like that. Amazing!

We chatted for a bit about the trip and it turns out that he knows someone with contacts on the east coast! And this came up right after Jerry had told me that things always happen the way they're supposed to!! How does this always happen?! I am starting to understand now that this trip is totally out of my control. Thanks for being a great teacher Jerry.

To end the day I got to see this:

One great thing about storms like today is that they make the sunsets incredible!

P.S. Check out Jerry's Blog!

Home again (sort of)

Well, I got a good night's sleep in one of the creepiest Motel 6's I have ever stayed in. Overall it was fine, all I really wanted was a bed and a shower, and that's what I got. Besides, you can't expect too much from 33 bucks a night, right?

When I was having my coffee I realized that it feels good to be back in New Mexico. Last night I had a green chile cheeseburger, and today I had green enchiladas. I am a happy man!

I decided to make it a short day today to make up for yesterday, and I wanted to spend the night in the mountains, so I set my sights for Cloudcroft, NM. I made a stop in Las Cruces to visit Bob, and had a wonderful time having lunch and catching up. He even reminded me of the time I got in trouble for saying the "s" word in the cafeteria in elementary school. Apparently he has fond memories of the way my dad reacted to the punishment; writing "I will not say the "s" word in the cafeteria" 50 times. Well, guess what Mr. Principal…Shit! Shit, Shit, Shit!! Ha!

Ok, now that I have that out, Bob and I went to lunch (the enchilada) and then he gave me a little driving tour of Old Mesilla, a little town tucked in next to Cruces that looks like old Mexico, but only because it was, before the white folks came along. It was nice to catch up with an old friend and see that he is still the gentleman I remember. Thanks, Bob.

Coming out of Las Cruces there was a fantastic view of the Organ Mountains:

I love to see the sharp rising mountains coming out of the desert. Classic New Mexico.

On the other side of the Organ Mountains I rode through White Sands Missile Range. All the side roads were guarded by men in fatigues carrying automatic weapons. It's good to be home…

While riding through the range, waiting to come across White Sands National Monument, it occurred to me that it is strange that we commemorate the place where the most deadly weapon on earth was first tested. Not only was it once native land to the tribes here in New Mexico as evidenced by the beautiful petroglyphs throughout the range (no one gets to see them though because of the guards.), but it was also home to a battle between the white man and the Indians. And then, to top it off, we test weapons there! What are we thinking?!

After the range I went through Alamogordo and up into the mountains. The road climbs 4000 feet in 18 miles but is surprisingly straight. It was nice to have a few turns though after spending days in the desert riding in straight lines. As I was coming up I saw a logging truck coming the other way. Now, I have seen a lot of logging trucks on this trip, but not in several days, and it was comforting to know that I was headed into the forest again, even if it's just for a night.

The meeting was the Cloudcroft Group, consisting of Charlotte and Mike. (They tell me there are more, but I am not convinced…) We read a story out of the back of the book and it was the perfect reading for me to hear. The story was so much like mine that it was eerie. I can't believe I've never read that story! Thanks, Cloudcroft Group.

After the meeting Mike led me out to a campground that was going to be perfect. As I was setting up camp I kept thinking about how nice it is to be in the New Mexico mountains. The high desert is a magical place and it makes me feel at home. It's cold up here (8000 ft) and threatening rain, but listening to the wind in the pines and aspens, the crickets chirping, and the occasional bat flying by makes me nostalgic for a camping trip I took with my mom. We went to Bandelier once for a night and I remember it being one of the best camping trips ever. We didn't do much of anything, just camped out for the night, but it was wonderful. A few years back my mom informed me that all she remembers was that she was drunk the whole night. I didn't care, it was still a great trip.

The last thing about the high desert that is unforgettable are the stars. Even through the patchy clouds the are incredible:

It it weren't for the threat of rain I would sleep out gazing at them all night. It's good to be where I am.

No Snow?

Perhaps using the word "adventure" in my post yesterday was ill advised. I should be careful what I ask for…

It went something like this: I was planning to get to Las Cruces, NM today to see an old family friend for dinner, but riding I-10 the whole way wasn't interesting to me. So I looked at the map and I found a road headed out of Tucson up and over the mountains to the east. On the map it looked like the classic twisty mountain road, and a perfect alternative to the Interstate.

So I set out to ride a fine mountain road and get to Cruces by mid-afternoon. As I got out of town the country got prettier. Hundreds of Saguaros lined the hills and the road started to get a little twisty. It was beautiful, and I was feeling good. Then I saw the "winding road for 3 miles" sign and got excited. I went down in a little gully and saw some road construction folks. They motioned for me to go slow. I nodded and then pressed on thinking, "Oh, they're doing road work, that might slow things a bit, but that's ok. I have time." I got about a mile up the road and made a shocking discovery; they weren't doing road work, they were BUILDING THE ROAD!!

Now, under most circumstances I would have just turned around and gone back, but for some reason I didn't. (I've been trying to think of the reason all day, and I got nothin'.)

So there I am riding my RT on a road meant for a GS, thinking, "Dennis would be proud." The road continued to climb and I followed it. Then I looked at the temp gauge and realized I needed to stop before I boiled the oil out of the bike. I reached a little crest and stopped for a rest.

When I got off the bike I looked back at the view:

Then I heard gunshots…and more gunshots. Then I heard a rattlesnake. Then I saw the vultures circling above me. I screamed like a little girl, got on the bike, turned around, and went back to the pavement.

While descending the small mountain I had inadvertently climbed I made the decision that my next bike will be a GS so that won't have to turn around.

I got back to town, set the GPS for Las Cruces, got on I-10 and went smoothly down the road. I was still on track to arrive in late afternoon so I was all set.

After about an hour and a half I started to smell rain. Little whiffs here and there of desert rain. It smells different here, it's sweet and clean. Then I started to see the storm on the horizon. It didn't look too bad, and it looked like I was going to bypass it just fine.

As I approached Bowie, AZ the wind started to pick up. It got to the point of being difficult to hold the bike on the road just in time for me to stop in Bowie and wait it out. Once I stopped I could tell that it was blowing at least 40mph and gutting up in the 60's. The dust was blowing around like crazy, and the occasional raindrops were falling horizontally. Not good. And it looked like this:

As I waited I got a cup of coffee and wandered in impatient circles. By some stroke of "luck" I ran into Mike and Jenny, a couple traveling form Washington also. And going to San Antonio for the same reason I am! It was nice to see some smiling faces amidst the storm.

When the weather cleared a bit I decided to go at it again. About forty minutes later I realized I was chasing the storm. The wind kicked up again, this time stronger than before. There were massive dust storms hiding the highway ahead of me, and lightning was striking all around me. I pressed on, hiding from the wind beside trucks when possible.

Then it happened…the cloud I was chasing opened and dumped buckets of rain and hail. I was drenched in thirty seconds. I was lucky to be passing truck stop and pulled in for cover. It continued to dump and I made the decision that I would stop in Deming, NM for the night.

The folks at the truck stop were all very friendly, and a guy named Wayne was nice enough to tell me that the frontage road would take me the remaining 15 miles into Deming, and that from the looks of things it would be mostly dry if I left then.

Having given up on Las Cruces, I looked up a meeting in Deming. I got into town and made it to the Duster Group with time to spare. I had made it to a meeting...and it was in Spanish. I thought about leaving, but knew that it was good for me to be there.

I understood about every 20th word, and couldn't follow much of anything so I closed my eyes and then felt like I was home. The feeling of being in the room was just the same as if I could understand every word. They asked me to share, and someone translated for me. I shared that it is great that our family crosses all barriers without trouble. It was really wonderful to see them all smiling as I talked. It brings tears to my eyes to think about it. What a magical thing we have!!

All told it was a long day for 259 miles, but I made a meeting, and I got what I asked for…oops.

Rest up…

When I was going to sleep my first night here in Tucson I was a little down. I was exhausted from the long day in the heat, and was starting to think that there was no way I would be able to carry this through for another 52 days. It seemed like it was going to be an awful trip, and that I was never going to make it. Luckily, when I woke up the next morning I felt rested, and much more like myself. I had hit a wall the day before, and I just needed sleep. I wasn't quite ready to get back on the bike and ride for a long way, but I was feeling more like finishing the trip was feasible.

Most of the first day was spent sitting around and relaxing with Alison in her apartment. It was nice and pleasant provided that we were sitting still, but the second we got up to do anything it was too hot.

Eventually we got up the nerve to leave the house, and I thought I might incinerate the second I touched the sunlight…good lord is it hot here! We ventured out to the Apple Store to see about the iPhone I had pre-ordered. It turns out that if you aren't there the day of the launch to pick it up then they sell it! Damn! No new iPhone for me yet, but I am working out the details of a plan to have one shipped to me later in the trip…

After that we went out to lunch with Mark, Amy, and Eva. I have to say that Eva is one of the most well behaved babies I have ever met. She sat quietly while we ate and talked, and then spent some time rocking back in forth in Alison's lap playing with her monkey toy. Adorable.

The meeting that day was down at the Little House. A nice group of folks thoroughly dedicated to the program as it is written. We talked about sponsorship, and the conclusion among most of us was that they are needed for working the steps through, but that the fellowship as a whole takes over after that and things can be worked out that way. No one person can't have all the answers, that's why there are all of us!

After the meeting I had a chat with Bill about the way that things always seem to work out the way they are supposed to. That we are always in the right place whether we think so or not.

My second day here in Tucson I woke up and knew that the rest of the trip was going to be just fine. It was great to have a couple of days to relax, but it is getting to be time to move on, and I can feel that. Alison goes back to work at the ass crack of dawn tomorrow, and I have a date with an old friend in Las Cruces.

Betsy and Whitey had us up to their condo again this afternoon for some more laughter and fun. It was damn hot out there by the pool, but it was nice to see them again before we all head to San Antonio.

The meeting was the Sober Living Group and the Pima Alano Club. Several topics were discussed, but the gist of it was the obsession and the spiritual cure for it. The meeting was big, but still had a small intimate feel too it.

I had a brief talk with Mike afterward about anger and fear. We had a nice time talking about the nature of our malady, and the idea that other people usually see the change in us before we do. He shared with me that other people tell him that he is doing great, but that to him he still feels like the same person. I related, and told him that at some point we begin to feel it, and that is when the magic happens.

I also got the chance to meet Alison's work friends. They were all very nice people, and knew far more about me than I thought they would. (Thanks, Alison) It was nice, though, to see the people who surround Alison in her "natural habitat." Thanks for taking care of her, guys. (That includes you too, Mark and Amy.)

So that was my resting time in Tucson, and tomorrow the adventure continues…

P.S. Although I didn't get a new iPhone here, I did get a new custom motorcycle accessory courtesy of Alison. So here's what happened. Alison saw my wrists:

This is a result of a gap between my jacket and my gloves. (I'm sure Death Valley had something to do with this...)

Alison is a knitter, and immediately found some yarn. The result was custom sweater cuff to fill the gap.

 

Now, saw whatever you want about me wearing knitted cuffs to ride a motorcycle, but I have Paddington and Pooh Bear in the back seat, and the cuffs were made with love, so there... Thanks, Alison!

Nothing

 When I got out of bed in Las Vegas I was on a mission. I wanted to get out the town with billboards for dentists (Yeah, really) and get to Tucson today. Looking at the maps and such I figured I could get there for an 8 o'clock meeting if I was moving most of the day. Mike had told me the night before to avoid the Hoover Dam because of construction and the idea of sitting still on the bike for an extra hour in 100 degree heat was not at all appealing, So I went south on US 95 through Laughlin and back up to the Interstate to get back on 93 south. It added about an hour to the day, but at least I was moving.

The day was long, hot, and windy, and I started to wonder what had possessed the white man to settle in the desert here. I can't imagine hiking through hundreds of miles of desert, looking out at the horizon seeing the constant heat waves, ("Look Johnny, the whole earth is on fire.") with no water nearby, and the wind blowing sand in your face and thinking: "We should stay here. Sure, we cant grow anything to eat, and there's hardly anything to kill and eat, and I feel like I might die at any moment, but I think this place is perfect." Seriously!? And then we went to great lengths to kick the native people out! At least they have generations of experience living out here, and know all the tricks. What the hell is wrong with us?!

I saw Nothing today. Really. There is an abandoned truck stop and wind in Nothing, AZ and that's all.

The day grew hotter and I had to stop more often for rest and water, and all I wanted was to get to Tucson. I had about an hour left to ride and I stopped in Florence to go to the bathroom and got a message from my friend Betsy. She was at a meeting already, but willing to leave it to ride out with Whitey and meet me on highway 79 to bring me home. I got back on the bike with something new to look forward to, family to lead me in…

About halfway down 79 I saw the sunset on my mirror and stopped for a photo:

Then I turned around to leave and there was the moon:

Then I got to ride on facing the moon and it started to cool off, it was the perfect last stretch of road to end the long day.

Betsy and Whitey were waiting at a turnout, and I was spent. I was ready to get anywhere, and told them so. They led me in to their condo for amazing food and healthy laughter, two things I desperately needed. Alison drove out too, and joined us for a nice relaxed evening. It was the first day I had missed a meeting, but it wasn't for lack of trying. And besides, I hung out with some other sober people, and that's what counts. I was reminded that this is the most wonderful family in the world. What a treat to have people who will drop everything and come lead you home! Thanks, Betsy and Whitey, It's just what I needed, and by some magic I may never understand, you knew that! Awesome!

Turned at the Wrong Pine

I forgot to take the odometer photo, so imagine something around 2585 miles.

I woke up in the campground in Mammoth Lakes, CA and I was cold. I should have savored this more, because it was the last time I would feel that for quite some time. From Mammoth I headed back out to US 395 and pointed the bike south. There were some mildly interesting moments of the ride down 395, like the point where there are large granite boulders on one side of the road and tuff cliffs on the other. It was fascinating to see two very different geological formations meet with a highway in between. It was almost like the highway department staged it that way.

I was leaving the mountains, and thought I had better get one last good look, so I stopped to look back where I had come from:

After the stop I headed down into the valley, and it got hotter, and hotter, and hotter. In retrospect I should have turned off and Big Pine and gone over Westgard Pass, but I wanted to see Death Valley. (Don't ask me why I thought that was a good idea, but I did.) So instead, I took a left at Lone Pine and went into the heat. Now, don't get me wrong, Death Valley was sort of neat to look at:

But it even looks hot. And it was:

I saw the first few foreigners I had seen on the trip. There was a German couple, whom I thanked for the bike, though I am not sure they understood me, and a family from Sweden, had I not asked where they were from I would have assumed they were East Coasters because their English was so clear. Why these people decided to take their vacations in Death Valley is beyond me. (I should have asked...) I mean, even the people who work there are bribed. The gas station attendant, who was quite chatty, told me that he gets free rent on a small studio apartment, three meals a day, AND nine dollars an hour! That's still far from enough for me to live in that hell, but he seemed marginally happy with it, although he did mention that he is planning to move to Hawaii in the near future. Good choice, my friend.

The whole ride through there was just ridiculous. I mean, there was one point where the temp "dropped" to around 105 and it felt cool!! It was certainly an experience that I will never forget nor repeat. I am glad I did it, but I have no idea why.

I finished the day in Las Vegas. My plans to avoid most large cities were thwarted by the fact that Vegas was the only thing nearby that seemed a reasonable stop to make. Luckily my stepmom was able to secure me a night in a hotel with A/C, so I could actually sleep through the night. (Thanks, Becky!)

I went up to a meeting at the Spring Valley Club, but there wasn't anyone there, except for (quite possibly) the only other sober young person visiting from Seattle, Katy. So we made our own meeting because it only takes two of us. We talked a lot about faith and how to acquire it, and a lot of other things too. It was a very nice meeting. (Often the two person meetings are the best.) We both agreed that it was nice to see another sober Seattlite and talk to someone who knows where we come from, geographically that is. Thanks, Katy.

The Corner

Day six started in Jackson, CA. The sore throat had started to go away, and I decided it was time to press on. Leaving Jackson the landscape is much like you would find in the high desert forests of northern New Mexico. Lots of dry pine, and scrub brush. The road was beautiful and wound through small old mining towns with hand painted signs on the buildings. It was very charming and I am able now to understand why the Gold Rush caused such a ruckus. I found myself at one point wondering if I might be able to find some gold out there. There is so much land, they couldn't have possibly combed it all, right? There was even a stretch of road where the rocks along the side of the road were covered in mica deposits to add to the allure. Alas, I did not stop to find my fortune.
Approaching the entrance to Yosemite National Park it continues to look much the same as around Jackson. Mitch had warned me about this the night before, and said that I would come around a corner and be awestruck. He did not, however, tell me about the uphill stretch of highway that wound back and forth up a roughly 2000 foot climb in about 2 miles! It was awesome, except for the motorhome in front of me for a part of it…

Once inside the park I stopped for a snack and got a chance to talk with a couple riding a Harley. He asked if I had ever been in the park. When I told him no he said that I was in for a treat, "especially that one corner", he said. (This is becoming a theme.) He also told me that I should be sure to take Glacier Point Road if I had time. "People travel from across the globe to ride that road," he said. So I marked it on the map and decided to do that instead of going deep into Yosemite Valley.

So I started the climb up the hill into the park. The road was lined with signs containing a little red bear and the words, "Speeding Kills Bears". I appreciate the idea, but for some reason the signs made me laugh a little. So up I went, and up, and up. Then started to come back down. Around every turn I would think to myself, "Is this the corner?" Just when I was about to stop thinking that it happened.

As I descended into the valley I continued to get little glimpses of the park, and continued to gasp at the amazing view. I got to the valley floor and stopped at Bridal Veil falls before heading up to Glacier Point. Bridal Veil was spectacular! I would love to go into the Valley sometime and see more. (We have to come back here, Mandy.)

Then I took the ride up to Glacier Point. The guy wasn't kidding. The road was a perfect road to ride, and it even had new pavement for more than half of it! If you have a bike you MUST come to Yosemite. It would be a great place to kill a few days riding and seeing things like this:

 

After Glacier Point I headed back to Tioga Pass Road to get out of the park on the East Side. The road again was wonderful. At somewhere around 8000ft though I was wishing that the heat worked a little better on the bike, but I managed though knowing that a lot of the trip was going to be in the heat, so I enjoyed the cool weather while I could. I was shocked that there was still a fair amount of snowpack up there. From what I gather they had record snow this year. I passed by several sights, but these two were tops:

Coming down the pass out of the park the road was still fun, and the views still spectacular. I could spend weeks here.

The meeting for the day was the Mammoth Lakes Group. I had noticed in the schedule that it was a Dart/Tag meeting. I was hoping that it meant we got to tag each other by throwing a dart (Nerf, of course) at the next person to talk. But it turns out that the chairperson, who wound up being me (Thanks, Amber), throws a dart at a board with a bunch of topics, shares about the topic, and then tags someone, and so on. A little disappointing logistically, but a phenomenal meeting filled with young people on fire for the program. Thanks, Mammoth Lakes Group!

delayed...

I saw almost nothing yesterday. Really. The only thing that made me stop for a photo was this:

I didn't actually go over to take a look because I was scared. I'm not sure what I thought I would encounter, but I am pretty sure I am confused enough as it is. My only other thought was that there had better be an amusement area at a place called Confusion Hill, because otherwise we are all in a lot of trouble.

I also encountered an Interstate for the first time since leaving Seattle. In order to get across California to the region I wanted to be in I had to spend a couple of hours on I-5. It was more hellish than I thought it would be. 101, despite all it's failings, had spoiled me, and I was in no mood to be fighting with others for space on the road in 90 degree heat. I ran I-5 from Willows through Sacramento, and hated every minute of it. By using Interstates, Steinbeck said, "it will be possible to drive from New York to California without seeing a single thing." How right he was. I saw nothing through there! It might be that there was nothing to see, but if there had been I wouldn't have seen it. I am also keenly aware that California drivers are terrifying on the freeway. There were a few moments in Sacramento that I thought about just getting off and taking surface streets. It was horrible!

I made it to the Crack the Book meeting in Mountain Ranch, CA last night and had a delightful time in a small meeting room with a cow pasture across the street (complete with bells on the cows!). That was a first. The meeting was nice and it was good to read a bit of the stories from the back of the book.

After the meeting I had a brief chat with John and Misty, a young (18 - 20ish) couple who were on fire for the program. John told me he started to write poetry recently and let me listen to a poem he had recorded. For someone new to the craft he was growing rapidly. Keep up the good work, John. When they were leaving Misty rolled down the window and told me that she admired what I was doing. Once again, I am surprised by something that someone says, and reminded that I should not decide who a person is before I know who they are. Thanks, Misty.

I figured it would happen at some point on the trip, but I didn't think it would happen at the beginning. Last night I started to get a sore throat,  and this morning I woke up and it wasn't any better. I was hoping to make it up to Yosemite today, but after Mandy talking sense into me, I stayed here in Jackson at the hotel to rest and recuperate. In and out of naps and eating I had a nice relaxing day. At the end of the day I headed out to the Jackson Fellowship for a meeting, and again was surprised at the topic. Acceptance. Of course the topic would have something to do with my irritation about having to hold back the trip! How did they know!? In any case, I had a wonderful time, and afterward was invited to Mitch's house for dinner.

I had a nice big plate of homemade spaghetti and another delightful conversation about the magic of this fellowship. It turns out, surprise, that Mitch and I think in much the same way. It is always a real treat to share thoughts and feelings eight someone who understands. I guess that really is how this whole thing works! When I was leaving Mitch's house I was very aware that there was a reason for me to stay here in Jackson for another day.

I am beginning to feel better and I am hopeful that I will be on my way in the morning to another meeting somewhere else...

Bees, teenagers, and...Mark Twain?

I woke up in my tent in Bullard Beach State Park to what I mistakenly thought was the sun. Upon further investigation outside the tent I found that the sun was up there somewhere, but the light was being refracted through the countless tiny water droplets hanging in the air. It is the kind of rain that one only understands if they have experienced it on the northwest coast. It's not even rain, really, it's more like just being in a pool of water. Needless to say, things got wet, and I got my first chance to learn to pack things back onto the bike while keeping them out of the elements. Hopefully, I will not have to do too much more of that, because that was a pain in the ass.


I fear that I have made a mistake in taking 101 down the coast as the first part of the trip. Not only is it full of great scenery:

But, it's also a wonderful riding road. I did wish for less traffic, but many of the fun stretches are even fun going slow. The ride today was up and down the bluffs of Southern Oregon, followed by winding through the redwoods in California. I am afraid that it won't get any better than that…

Shortly after entering California (there is a guard shack at the state line, and I still don't know why) I was peacefully riding along and suddenly encountered one of the motorcyclists worst nightmares. A swarm of bees. Thank god it was still a little cold out and I was all geared up, because I am sure that there would have been at least one sting. As it stands it was just one hell of a mess on the bike and me.

It turns out that a BMW motorcycle and a bright yellow jacket tends to make people want to talk to you. All kinds of people are interested in asking what I am doing and where I am going. I even had a 16-year-old kid, whom I had pegged for full of himself and too good to talk to someone he didn't know, ask me about the trip. He proved himself to be a very polite and well spoken young man with a genuine interest in me and my trip. He also, from the sounds of it, is quite the young golfer, and looking forward to a trip to a tournament later in the summer. Good Luck to the kid from Brookings, OR.

The more interesting encounter I had today was one with man in Bandon. I had just gotten off the phone with my dad to wish him a Happy Father's Day, and he had mentioned an old friend of his named Stretch. Now, all I really remember about Stretch is that he lived up to his name, and that even today at 6'4" I would have to look up to talk to him. Then, as I am walking back into the coffee shop, there is a man in front of me ducking to get in the door! It wasn't Stretch, if that is what you were hoping. It was Charlie, a young man (60) who has been laid off from the construction trade for a bit, and decided to spend the summer in Bandon because he likes it. We chatted a bit and exchanged stories a bit. He, like most other people, is jealous of the trip, but is also genuinely interested in people. He gave me this link because maybe this guy and I would get along. He also shared this at the end of our chat:

“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness.”
 Mark Twain

I believe this is true, I am learning that there are all kinds of people out there who are really great people, but I would not necessarily talk to because of how they look. (Think, kid in Brookings, OR in a lifted truck drinking an energy drink and looking like he owns the world.) But after I talk to them I find that they are interesting, thoughtful, and delightful people. Who knew? I guess Twain did.

The meeting was the South Humbolt Survivors group. A small group in Redway, CA. We talked about the old standard of ego v. God. Nothing like a bunch of people who once thought they were God talking about how we came to understand that we are not God! A wonderful little group of folks, and Mary even invited me to stay in her guest room. Her house was, at one time, the clubhouse for a golf course that used to be on the land. The interior walls and ceiling are all clear heart redwood. Beeeaaautiful! We had a nice chat in her living room about the usual things. It turns out that she has been involved in a lot of General Service, and shared several stories about that world. I am grateful that she is into it, because I am not, and we need people like her for our fellowship to carry on. Thanks, Mary!

Beware The Shell Station

I started day 3 in Seaside, OR with grand plans of making it to California. It turns out this was a silly idea, and I need to not make plans. But alas, I think I have pinpointed where things went wrong. Ty had mentioned to me that Cannon Beach was having it's annual sandcastle contest, and that I might want to stop and take a look. As I rode past Cannon Beach I kept wavering back and forth about whether I should go or not, and finally settled on stopping. I was there, right?

I followed the signs that read "sandcastle beach parking." (Mistake 1) I knew that there was no way I would take the bike onto the beach, so I parked in the lot above the beach thinking I wouldn't mind a little walk on the beach. (Mistake 2) Then, thinking that it can't be that far I kept my gear on and grabbed my camera to go see these sandcastles. (Mistake 3)

As I approached the beach I didn't see any mobs of people, but there were all the cars driving north up the beach to park. I looked down the beach and could barely make out the cars, let alone the crowds of people. But figured a little hike on the beach couldn't hurt. (Mistake 4. Similar to 2) Off I went down the beach to see magnificent sandcastles. After a bit of walking I started to think that maybe this was too much walking to do in all the gear, so I asked some people walking back if it was worth the hike.
"Don't know yet, we're going back to meet some friends," they told me.
"Hmm." I looked both directions.
"What'd you ride down?" one of the gentlemen asked.
"2002 BMW RT."
"Really!? I have a 99 RT. I thought you looked like a BMW rider. Where you headed?"
"This is day three of sixty."
"Aww." He turned away and shook his head. "And I was starting to like you."
"I know. Sorry."
"I'm just jealous, that's all."
"Yeah, that seems to be a common trend these days."
This was how I met Giorgio, a fellow RT owner. The result of this meeting is that we walked down toward the sandcastles together and had a wonderful conversation about bikes, cops, speeding, and the other usual bike talk. I had a very nice chat and was beginning to forget that I was getting warm in all my gear. By the time we arrived at the sandcastles I thought I was going to die… I was sweaty all over underneath my gear and now I was 1.5 miles from the bike with no hope of ditching the gear. Shit.

Because I was there I figured I had better look around and see what this sandcastle thing was all about. I walked past all the people carving, shaping, and molding sand, but they had only started a few hours before and it wasn't all that impressive.



Don't get me wrong, I was impressed with some of the talent that I was seeing, but I was disappointed that nothing was finished, except this one.



Way to go, kid!

After looking a piles of sand for about 15 minutes I decided I had better head back so that I could get on the road. I set off again in the heat, sweat pooling inside my gear, thinking the whole time that I should hitch a ride with one of these smart people driving back. Everyone passing me in their cars had the windows rolled up and stared straight ahead. Maybe they sensed my frustration and didn't want anything to do with me.

When I got back to the bike I took off my jacket, unzipped the legs of my pants and sat under a tree in the ocean breeze feeling comfortable for the first time since I pulled into the parking lot. My shirt was wet, the inside of my liners were wet, everything was drenched in sweat. I sat under the tree and had a wonderful apple (Thanks, Ty) and breathed. It was during this little moment of quiet that I realized that if I am on the road for 60 days, then why the hell do I think I NEED to get to California today? What was I thinking. This was supposed to happen the way it did, so I sat back, enjoyed the nice day, and felt back to my old self.

In spite of my little moment of clarity in Cannon Beach I still managed to feel rushed all day to get somewhere. The roads were beautiful, and the scenery, breathtaking. I tried my best to relax back into the ride and enjoy it. It wasn't until I arrived at the candlelight meeting in Bandon, OR that I realized why it was that things went the way they did. The topic was expectations! Damn! how did they know!? Crazy. The meeting was small and comfortable. I love this fellowship!

After the meeting I had a smoke and then went back inside to give Tracy a hug. She looked like she might need one, and like she might give one. I was right on both accounts. After the hug I sat back down and had a great little chat with Tracy and Artie about all manner of things, but they asked for specifics of my story. After I told them some things Artie referred to my story as 'holy.' Who knew that ANYTHING about me would EVER be considered holy.

I left and went to set up camp with a feeling that everything was as it should be. A feeling I usually only get after talking with people after a meeting. Fantastic!

Oh, yeah. the Shell station… If you pass through Depoe Bay, OR, DO NOT stop at the Shell. The attendant came out and muttered some things about Oregon being the only state that doesn't allow self-service, etc, etc. Then, when asked how his day was, he grunted. Seriously?! Who does that!?

Living in Fellowship

Day two began just south of Forks, WA at Bogachiel State Park with a shower that never got warm no matter how many quarters I put in. After the 'shower' I headed south on HWY 101 through little bits of Olympic National Forest, and even more sections of clear-cut woods. I have always been thankful for parks and other lands set aside for our enjoyment, but it was more apparent to me yesterday than ever before that without them we would destroy most of this continent in the name of enterprise. Of course, they did advertise in front of the clear-cuts when they harvested and planted that section. In one instance the first harvest was in the 1930's, then in the 1980's, then in the 2000's, and the next harvest is planned for 2040. I appreciate that they replant, but it seems more self-serving than anything else, and makes me sad for the trees.

Continuing south on 101 I went through the town of Humptulips. Nothing happened there, perhaps ever. In fact I almost missed the town, but with a name like that it had to be mentioned.

Further south 101 took me to the mouth of the Columbia River where I stopped to take a little break and had the chance to watch three, yes three, bald eagles fishing and playing above the north shore of the river. I have seen a few of them before, but never three at a time, and never as close as they were. Unfortunately I was too slow with the camera, and I suspect they sensed it, and they disappeared before I could get a good photo.

Traveling from Washington to Oregon mostly requires a bridge across the Columbia, and I have crossed several of them. But to get to Astoria I had to cross the longest bridge I have even seen.

Roughly four miles from end to end it was one of the most intimidating things I have ever seen. Along the western side of the bridge the wind was blowing steady and hard and making an updraft that the seagulls seemed to really enjoy.

I arrived in Seaside in the late afternoon and found the Little Yellow House, a famous meeting place on the Oregon Coast. I had the good fortune to get hold of an old high school friend, Antonio, over the last few days and he drove out from Portland to join me for dinner and a meeting. Over dinner we talked about life today and sobriety and the joy of living. If anyone had told us in high school that we would end up in Seaside talking about being sober we would have told them they were crazy.

Antonio went to meetings with my mom for quite some time so we spent a fair portion of our time together swapping stories about her and reminiscing. It is always nice to see the portrait of my mother that is painted through other people.

The meeting was the Riverside Group, and as luck would have it, the chairperson spoke about his mom being ill, and his joy in being a part of her life. Most people who spoke in the meeting then shared about their relationships with their mothers, and I count myself as grateful to have had the relationship that I did with my mom, and to be able to bring her with me on this trip in spirit.

Before the meeting started we met Ty. He introduced himself to us and welcomed us to Seaside. As we got to talking I asked him about places to camp nearby. He said that his side yard was available, and then amended it to say that his guest room was available! So, after the meeting I followed Ty home and we had more great conversation about sobriety and spirituality. His home was comfortable and cozy, about as close to a classic seaside home as one can get. Buster, the resident Boston Terrier, took a liking to me and sat on my lap most of the evening. In the morning I was greeted outside by Old School, a formerly feral cat now living on the porch. It was all a good reminder that this fellowship is strong and lively. (I also got a hot shower, for those of you tracking my hygiene…Alison.)

"Some day we hope that every alcoholic who journeys will find a Fellowship…at his destination" That was written in 1939 in the initial printing of the Big Book, and to think that I am now out to get to a meeting every day all over the country. I wonder sometimes if they thought it was going to turn out like this. What an incredible thing to witness and be a part of!

Into the Twilight Zone

Of all the strange places that I am sure to encounter along this trip, Forks, WA is bound to rank right up there with the strangest. Forks had it's beginning as a sleepy little logging town in the mid-20th century, and remained that way until publication of a certain young-adult vampire fiction series turned the place into a tourist destination, especially for young girls. In fact, tourism has increased 600% (Yeah, really) since the release of the first book. Truly baffling to me. I mean, I have read a few books, but not once have I thought, 'I need to go to this town', especially a place like Forks. There's nothing here! Unless you are interested in collecting Twilight items from every store in town. And every store does have the stuff. There are a few stores dedicated to Twilight crap, but even the grocery store has a HUGE display when you walk in the front door. Ridiculous! Even the little four page "Forks Forum" on the table in the restaurant had Twilight Trivia in it. Strange.

I am learning that people are more than willing to tell me how it is that I am supposed to take this trip. The man controlling traffic getting onto the ferry told me exactly where I should head inland from the coast in Oregon. "It's boring and full of people after that," he said. The coffee lady in Sequim wanted me to know that I shouldn't have come out to the peninsula at all. Well, guess what, they're not taking the trip!

I had an interesting little revelation once I got off the ferry and away from the cities. The farther one gets from cities the more road names are given based on what is nearby. Chicken Coop Rd, Mt. such-and-such Rd, So-and-so Lake Rd, Hooker Rd, and Kitchen-Dick Rd. Now, I looked for the kitchen-dick, but I couldn't find one. However, I have to admit that I have no idea what a kitchen-dick is, but I am certain that if one had been around I would have found it.

The sun has yet to shine on me on the road, but that's because I am still in the Northwest. There have been moments where the sun has threatened to shine, but it's always followed by even darker clouds moving in.

Despite the darkness, and a brief moment of sadness directly related to listening to mellow piano music, I had a wonderful first day on the road that included one of those rare feeling that this is where I am supposed to be right now. I was riding past Lake Crescent, and had just stopped at a little turnout to look at the lake and have a smoke. I wandered a bit and found that the trees at this little park were popular places to carve initials and other things:

I'm not really sure what to do with that, I don't know that philosophical advice from the lead singer of Tool is something I want to make mine.

The road was winding back and forth in those perfect rideable arcs, and the lake was to the right, and the forest to the left. It was then that I thought, 'This is unbelievable, I am actually doing this!' and had the sense that this was what I am supposed to be doing. All that panic, and then this…

The meeting was the How It Works group at the recreation center in Forks. The group was welcoming, and I think pretty excited to have someone from out of town. The format was loose, and the atmosphere comfortable, even the silence felt OK. And Jim was more than willing to give direction to campsites, and the grocery store. Thanks How It Works Group!

Well, there you have it, day one in the books. Off to the next one…

P.S. For those of you wondering, No, I didn't see any vampires.

ohgodohgodohgodohgod

Day 1 here we come!

The good news is that I got a good night's sleep that I was not expecting, and feel pretty much ready to go. My stomach is turning a little bit, but that is to be expected.

I guess it wouldn't be leaving Seattle for a trip if it weren't raining...I just hope it ends when I get out a little ways. The bike is packed and ready, and all I have to do is get myself together so that I can get on it and go.

I thought you all might like to see what it is that I will be packing with me for 60 days living on my bike, so here it is:

How do you fit all of that on a bike with me on it you ask? Strategically...that's how. The hard bags on the bike are actually quite roomy all things considered. I'm sure that when I am on the bike with all the gear it looks a little like I am wedged in between stuff, but that's just how it has to be, and it's still comfy.

So, that's the update so far. Off to the next meeting.

Launch Date Planned

Today I got word that I will be able to leave town on Thursday June 17 to embark on the journey! Yippee! I am so excited that I can hardly contain it…or maybe I'm afraid...I'm not sure. My mom used to tell me that fear and excitement often feel the same in the stomach, so it is best to assume it is excitement. I'll go with that, in spite of the overwhelming number of worst case scenario scenes that keep flashing through my busy head. I will be polite and not share them with you unless they happen. (Everyone cross your fingers.)

All preparations that can be made at this point have been; camping supplies collected, a final tuneup on the bike, a trip to the store for small size odds and ends, and finding the first meeting (I'll keep you in suspense as to where, but it rhymes with the incorrect plural of several dead swine…). Over the next two days I will work on packing the bike, getting all the home things squared away (bills, etc.), and the biggest challenge of all, attempting to get my mind ready to leave. I have a certain amount of anxiety about leaving Mandy and all of my friends. 60 days is a long time to be gone from home, and I am getting a little afraid of what I will miss. I already know that I am going to miss Mandy tremendously. She continues to assure me that this is the right thing to be doing and that she and I will both be just fine, but that doesn't change the fact that I will not get to see her every night, something that I have become quite accustomed to and happy about. I also understand intellectually that my fear of loneliness on this adventure is a little unfounded since I will be going to a meeting every day, but I still wonder how frightening it will be to be alone in my mind for all those miles in-between meetings. More will be revealed, I suppose, and my job now is to prepare the 'cabin' for departure.

So there you have it, come the 17th I will be headed out onto the road to see what will happen, work on honing my look-for-strange-things skills, and get to the next meeting.