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!?