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.

Source of Panic Discovered

Well, it turns out that the panic I was feeling about the trip had little to do with the trip. On Monday I received an email to do some work and instantly felt better. Although I knew that the work was still there, I was having a hard time allowing my mind to believe it, and that sent me into panic-mode. Silly, I know, but that seems to be how my brain works. Despite lots of evidence to the contrary I still go into worst case scenario first, or at least a close second. It makes me wonder if that is a part of the human condition, or something that is unique to me and a lot of people I know. Are there people out there that always assume the best without thought about how bad it could get? That seems such a foreign concept to me that I would find it uncomfortable to think that way...maybe.

So, as for the trip, it is looking like it may be a little postponed due to work, but I suppose that if I have to make a little more money prior to departure, then I will take it. The bike still does not have shocks, but they tell me that they will be in the mail soon. Sooner would be better, because we have had a nice little stretch of good weather, and it would be nice to be out in it on the bike. Things rarely happen in my time frame...

I bought a giant map of the U.S.:

Look at all those roads! I still maintain that there will be little planning that occurs prior to departure, but I bought the map to see if I find places that I want to go. More to come!