8/31/17 - Coming Together

Taking it all in can feel like trying to hold water in your hand.  It’s there, so clear and cold as it slowly slips away.  But each handful is different.  Trying to process something that is always changing is a great challenge that I see worth exploring through art.  There is something special about conveying ideas through imagery: reading into colors and forms that echo into different meanings.  There can’t be a dialogue without different points of view.  Let us all welcome each other to stand on one another’s ground and although it may look different than our ‘normal’ view, it’s all part of the same landscape.....

There are moments in waking life or in dreams that we perceive a connection between ourselves and the universe... or, mother nature, the infinite, the unknown, or god if that’s what feels right – it’s all the same to me.  Whether we are alone in some personal physical endeavor, deep in meditation, desperately injured or ill, in an altered state, seeing clearly in sobriety or through the hazy veil of drugs, faced with the weight of reality or the blinding lightness of insignificance, within ourselves or with the one we’ve become entangled with in the tapestry of love... life offers, at times, a mere glimpse beyond what we normally see and hear, smell, taste, or touch, that comforts us and scares us, that keeps us guessing, and trying to understand this living riddle. 

There’s no one answer for us all, we see the same world but it filters through all our senses differently.  Little points of consciousness we are, thinking we ‘get it’ when everyday, everything is changing.  What is there to hold onto?  Life can feel fluid and confusing but then, there are those quiet moments of bliss and clarity where everything seems to stop; moments that only mean anything to us until we try to describe the indescribable to others and realize there’s a bigger picture here and we can’t see all the way to the edges.

Days 12 and 11 - 10/5/16 - Elk Prairie State Park, CA

Just outside of Crescent City is Stout Grove, an old growth forest where there are mighty redwoods up to 2,000 years old.  We couldn't pass up the opportunity to see these massive creatures.  From the church, it's about a 16 mile round trip, a trip we wanted to do early so we could get on the road to ride to the next town. 

A little behind schedule we got to the sign that read, "Stout Grove 4 Miles" at the threshold of where pavement became gravel.  It didn't take more than three seconds for us to stop in our tracks and stare straight up at the towering redwoods.  We knew it would be a slow 4 miles to the short walking loop that is Stout Grove. 

We stopped and stared many times, smoked beneath the shelter of the trees –"these trees are tall, we have to get high"–the five of us crawled inside a tree and had plenty of space to stop and dance and then crawl out like clowns coming out of a tiny car.  Lau and Flo turned back before we got to the end but, Martin, Will and I rode to the grove and then continued the journey of foot. 

The journey became more intimate.  We walked on the soft forest floor made by thousands of years of pine needle build-up; we walked on the remnants of fallen trees, cut down trees, and got our faces up to the gnarled knots and twisted burls in the trunks like we were wandering through some museum of modern art. 

We high-tailed it home, Will actually skidded off the road he was going so fast, and got their much later than planned.  We still had 30 miles to cover with a couple massive hills to get over. 

The sun came out for us, a beautiful afternoon to ride through.  The hills were indeed massive, winding up endlessly next to more redwoods and the downhills did not disappoint.  It was a ride through a magical forest, a preview of Avenue of the Giants, the scenic route I drove through last year with Nick, Vic, and Adrian.  At that time in my life, I never thought I would be back over here a year later on my bike. 

Life's funny that way.  I feel like that trip happened last week.  Time is so fucked in my head; it's lost its linear nature, every experience is new while still calling back to the past causing this strange overlap in my mind like everything is happening all at once.  If only everyone could live outside of time for a while.  Now, the morning after, we're all still hiding from the rain in our tents.  I just saw two deer, a mother and her child while I was taking a leak outside. 

They were so close but did not seem afraid, just kept eating the cold, wet leaves.  Who knows if the rain will let up but, there's no rush just yet so I guess we'll smoke a little and see what happens.

Days 6, 5, 4 - 9/29/16 - Sunset Bay State Park, OR

A hot cup of tea after a warm meal is a new thing for me; I did not have any cookware the entire time it took me to get across the country.  My life on the bike has improved supremely since leaving Portland.  Yesterday I made noodles for lunch right on the shore, winds constantly blowing, I felt like the man who invented fire.  We didn't get on the road til 11:00 this morning.  Julie and I, that is.  She's from Boston, riding from Seattle to San Fran and somehow we found each other out here. 

We met yesterday briefly on the road; her and another couple came up behind me while I was shedding some layers on the side of the road.  The other couple, two young Brits that got hitched less than a month ago and are traveling on bike around a handful of countries for their honeymoon.  The four of us didn't ride together too long, we were in a hilly area along the shore, a situation where everyone goes at their own pace. 

And with as many scenic viewpoints to peer out into the bright white distance, it wasn't a quick ride for any of us.  But, we all met back up at the same campground, Honeyman State Park, where a bunch of older doods were already set up and handing around a flask of whiskey. 

I had met one of them, Erik, at Cape Lookout State Park a couple days ago.  He takes interested folks out on bike tours as part of his job.  Where do I apply?  So 7 of us cyclists were gathered in this hiker/biker site with the ultimate hippie, Stephen, that has been traveling since '67, so he says, and has been wandering back and forth to and from different state parks with hundreds of pages he's written about all his life experiences on all the different planes of reality he exists in. 

But only Julie and I left the campground the following morning, everyone else had plans to stay another night, even Stephen.  It's hard to pinpoint anything specific about my journey down the coast thus far.  The weather has been beautiful and the scenery takes my breath away constantly.  It's hard to believe it will get better but, that's what people keep telling me.  Well, bring it on.

Day 79 - 8/25/16 Deer Lodge, MT - Day Off

Dear Dan,

        You did not set out on this trip to physically abuse yourself; you wanted to see the country from the vulnerable position of your bike seat with the bare essentials to stand toe to toe with whatever bisects the road you're on.  This is not a race but, you've found yourself racing the changing of the seasons which is why you are not 100%. Physical pain prevents you from enjoying the road, the main objective of this trip.  If you do not ride your bike into Portland you will not have lost anything.  If you started this trip earlier you would've had plenty of time to take regular days off but, that was not the case and you can't do a damn thing about it now.  

You have rode over 3,000 miles on a bike that was built before the year 2000, it's been an unforgettable ride and I'm sure from this point on you will not forget to listen to your body, to be fully aware of any physical limitations.  How important it is for all of us to take care of our own needs at our own time for time itself is a goddamn illusion that makes us rush and hurry and worry.  Well, I can't justify hurting myself for the sake of achieving some sort of goal.  I just want to ride my bike, dammit.