“Just remember that the things you put in your head are forever, he said. You might want to think about that.
‘You forget some things, don’t you?’
’Yes. You forget what you want to remember and you remember what you want to forget’” ~ Cormac McCarthy  [The Road]

The video is from a few days ago. Music by “Kendra” [With You]. I was thinking about Spirit when I found the Music of it today. It was such a fine ride within such an incredible space we will return to. I am still learning the intricacies of shooting videos and rendering them. I finally did today but cannot discard the ones already taken.

 

There is no doubt in my mind and soul about my Lifestyle with Spirit. The simplicity of it all, the union, the unison of body and soul with this Earth, it’s colors, shapes, smells, wildlife, sunrises and sunsets and I am skipping more as I am watching this one sunset at the peak of this Mountain we rode up within the Shoshone National Forest. It is the flip side of the Hudson-Atlantic City road. Trees, forest, lakes, meadows so inviting to just lay down and watch this World go by.

   

My last day is tomorrow when I will leave with a suitcase and a carry on in the sidecar instead of Spirit. We needed this ride today. So much. I was as the expression goes "loosing it". I had to put it all back in perspective. It is a momentary change, it is a good one, it will bring much insight to the path I am on. All is well. I think it is.

   

The amazing fact about this landscape is a road, one road, 28, which separates these luscious Mountains and the torrid Desert. Two such different and separate stages. So amazing. From Lander side is the road, which is 131, starts curving through the Sink Canyon State Park and takes on the figure of switchbacks which reminds me of a mini Bear Tooth Pass. They call it the “loop” here, it is # 300. It was unpaved till last year, sad a bit to see the black top now open to much more traffic, more ease for many for the drive, and yet I found it as they have done a beautiful job.

     

We went through of it all with a bit of a rush. Whitten Reservoir, Fiddlers Lake, Louis Lake. Trying to scout the so many places free camping was offered for some future stay. Probably next year. Time has been escaping me. There was a new concept, a timeline for packing, get it all together, I could only force myself to do so. It did not come naturally. The proof is the fact that I am now writing this from Denver and my moments are now incomplete without Spirit. Seems as the harmony of Life has suddenly come to a halt again as it has so much in years past when with much effort I brought it to a better “now”.

     

I am trying to ease into the curve, smooth entry, no slipping, all without making a big deal out of it all. Feelings I am realizing again these past days. Feelings. Can one truly control them or do they just come in and go without a handle of one’s self. I had tears the other evening thinking about Spirit. Oh! they say… some say… he is just a Dog! I guess the 39 flavors of Ice Cream come into play. And so what if I am all at the same time sad and happy as I know this path also is a must. It is just a test of Life to take on wondering what my score will be.

   

The other day packing was the culprit, then it was the ride to Denver with an empty chair. Tomorrow are the planes! Ah! the planes… All is well tonight, Spirit is having a great summer camp, that is really my only concern, his well being. I prepared a great dinner last night, (they thought so!), took a lot of photos I will post soon, I feel good, I am for the first time really looking forward to the coming days as I know my Mother is so excited as I am for that big hug. Staying with some wonderful Friends here, right now it is another pound or two of my bread pudding made with Ciabatta bread, heavy cream, apricot glaze, fresh eggs and lets not forget the bit of Cognac! All this cannot be that bad…

   

You be well… always.

Ara & Spirit

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“ ‘I worry about us’, he said, ‘if we aren’t producing artists here who can tell our story. A people with no art has lost his soul’” ~ Kathleen Norris [Dakota. A Spiritual Geography]

A desolate and eerie day? For most maybe. A deserted road from Atlantic City, WY, to Sweetwater on Highway 287 called the Hudson-Atlantic City Road. And on to a deserted town, Jeffrey, a Ghost Town? A modern Ghost Town. Strange enough I felt the loneliness on that road. Deeper than the Gravellies, there is nothing, beautiful deep nothing but us standing under the cloudless sky of the day. My stomach got a little knotted as we stopped a few times to listen to the uttermost silence imaginable, a drink of water, a snack, a feel of the tires just to make sure the Saint of Flats had the day off. I was there, we were there, and yet unconsciously my mind was already unraveling what is yet to come these day, the ones to be crossed off on this calendar I am watching this week. Unable to fully live the “moment”.

     

Spirit and I apart, long flights with each a stop over, noise, pollution, strangers, new spaces thousands of miles away. And yet the grand Prize of course, the best hug of it all from my Mother. The closest Being left in my Life, that is "Human Being". I know 2 weeks will pass so quickly as we have so much to talk about, so much persuasion on my part for her to move to Austin, TX, which would be a nice central location for us to be together more often as it should be. Hopes, always. I feel as I should get a handle on myself. Calm down I keep thinking over and over, what is the big deal? Thousands travel as such daily, millions maybe, why such a big anticipation? And yet “that feeling” keeps flaring up over and over… Deep breath.

 

We started the road from Atlantic City. Population? A few. With a couple road options and the chance to talk to a local for directions, just because. A crusty one proud of being a full timer in this harsh environment. He rolled.his eyes, immediately loosing his patience within the first few words. Funny I thought. He did not. I started comparing his space with Terlingua’s influx of tourists, the lost ones, the Urban Voyagers in their shiny Hummers and worthless Tom Tom fancy sexy female voice activated GPS. He realized I was not the Doctor on tour in between shifts, he apologized explaining the fact that Search and Rescue do get their calls at least on an average of once a week. Deserts are not forgiving. Never are.

   

We then on left after all was said and done, a short walk on Main Street, avoiding this time the ones that seem to have taken birth on the premises as my waves were not returned, only a glare from and through mostly long white hanging hair and untrimmed bushy overlapping eyebrows topped by an old and greasy oversized leather hat. My fond memories of Atlantic City. Winters are of the toughest in the area, the scars are visible throughout the better season, it is a fact I have discovered long time ago. I hear it mentioned as many not looking forward the again gray and cold days. The firewood stacked up, the feed for the animals, the chains needed on the tires, the shoveling of the snow on a daily basis. And yet, they stay, like a challenge they are proud of it, they feel as the Masters of the wilderness, a strength acquired, an attitude shown. I am stronger than you you who runs away to the heat of another winter. South.

   

The Hudson-Atlantic City Road was a new discovery for me. How can there be such emptiness when only a few hundreds of miles away so many are stacked up on top of each other, yelling loudly at each other, breathing what was once an air as clean as where I was. The road was mild, nothing too difficult, only bumpy at times without many mild changes of elevation. Always curious what would be beyond the hill climbed, it would be the same scenery with again a light brown ribbon of a road blending in with the horizon or the next bump of the next hill. A few cows here and there near by man made water ponds, a couple markers made of flat rocks free standing, probably marking someone’s land boundaries, that is all, and much Peace.

     

We finally hit Highway 287. Not much traffic, the drivers are starring at us maybe wondering why did we put ourselves through the ordeal of a non paved road when a Highway was present. I don’t expect anyone to understand, only have always this fantasy of a wish. There should not be any paved roads. We headed toward Jeffrey City. All I was told about was that it is an abandoned town, but not an old town. How could that be I had been thinking now for days. And I found out. It was the perfect destination coming out of a deserted road into a relinquished town. Again a Mine stood by it’s past reason of being. An Uranium Mine, not gold this time. It was called “Home on the Range” at one time but changed to “Jeffrey City” in 1957 when thousands streamed into town looking for high-paying mining jobs.

   

Today, well, it is the oddest sight, feeling, to stand on Main street where not a single car, not a single soul passes by only in company of the overgrown vegetation that has made it’s way through the more than ever cracks of the roads and cement sidewalks. The weeds have built a natural net on the tennis courts, the High School still stands as I was told harboring an Olympic size swimming pool. The Mine has shut down, the buildings are boarded, padlocked, the signs fading away are still up, there is no more fire trucks behind the big white doors even if the water still runs for the Church and the Bar still open and left alive by the neighboring locals from Split Rock, 14 miles away. The Church and the Bar, seemingly always the balance of any town!

     

And again the silence only broken up by the cars passing by on the highway at warp speeds I am sure never giving much thought to what was once even if I see the drivers turning their heads wondering again why we have stopped. I found a flyer posted for a community picnic coming up this Saturday. They are coming from Split Rock. I wish I would have been here to attend, no doubt many stories would have been heard, first hand. We walked some more, I expected any minute to have to jump off the middle of the stret, maybe suddenly all this was only a vision as traffic would take over. It did not happen. My kind of town.

     

Back on the Highway, on to the only fuel station at Three Forks and then on back catching as a teaser all the names of the roads I would like for us to adventure ourselves on next time we are here. Green Mountain Campground, one more destination to check out, maybe there are some trees there. We did get off road one more time that day, parallel to Highway 287 is a fast dirt road call ‘Graham Road” and were right on time to catch a glimpse of the red rocks present under the sun dimming, the ones that have stood up ahead of us for the past few millions of years.

     

Till next time… be well.

Ara & Spirit

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“We are going to write some History. Think of the Honor! We have been chosen to put some interesting people and some of Nature’s grandest scenes on the page of Human record and on the map. Hurry! We are daily loosing the most important news of all the World” ~ Meditations of John Muir ~

 

Morning in Lander, Wyoming. Lander has turned out to be a strong “home base” for us throughout the summer thanks to my Friends KC and Mia. It is a bit of a Home away from no Home! Drinking my good roasted coffee again which I have missed, a bit weighted down with the thoughts of what will I take with me to Germany since I have been loaned a nice suitcase and a carry on, a bit also nervous about flying. It is all on my mind. I do not like flying. I really do not like flying. And then there is “what will Spirit think?”. Will he search for me daily as I will? We are one, have been for a long time now, more than a shadow we are joined at the hip 24/7. He is still asleep on this a bit colder day, I wish I did not have to go and yet I am excited about seeing my Mother and spending some quality time with her. It has been two years. Overdue. The idea is to make some sense into her for a move to maybe Austin where I could go and spend much more time with her. She does well, she is however 83, time is flying by, none left to waste away apart. How did we manage to have such a geographical distance between us?

       

I still have a few days here and lately a missing element in my Journey has surfaced, an element present in the past that has slowly I felt vanished maybe overtaken by my Love for Mother Nature setting aside everything else I encounter on this path we are on. There is so much History, Geology, more, that always surrounds me as I feel I have not paid much attention to it as I use to. An inquisitive mind that maybe went a bit dull as suddenly, specially being in this rich area with much past, has woken up suddenly with such a desire to dig into what was then as I do feel what is now. I never had much chance to roam around here as we have been present either in bad weather, at times too early because of snow, at other times too late needing to head on south since so constantly exposed to the elements.

       

This week is different. It is of the best times being here as we took off yesterday with a loop to ride in mind, of course knowing deep down not because of it’s distance, but because of it’s rich History, we would never finish it. And we did not. Part of it was due to the rain, the heavy rain we dodged changing directions trying to avoid it, to no avail a couple times. It was also due to much time spending in South Pass City chatting about the area with the local caretakers, playing with the cameras and discovering in words also about the “Red Desert” near by which we have never set foot in. We are so slow moving on, we could have spend a few days in South Pass City alone and the neighboring Atlantic City which was too wet to even think about stopping. With so many unpaved roads around, the thought was to also arrive in Jeffrey City which is another Ghost Town east of Sweetwater Station and then on through another unpaved road to the Castle Gardens Petroglyphs near by the Geographic Center of Wyoming.

   

I smile as I know this little Journey alone would probably take us a couple weeks. For that reason I think next summer we will mainly spend a few months truly exploring Wyoming and Montana, searching for the locals and their stories, digging deep into the events of the past couple hundred years and the changes of the past millions of years of this Earthy crust we have come to love so much. Chatting takes time! And yet words exchanged inquisitive to the minds are of such mental value when souls of similar attractions are met maybe just once by the Faith of time, maybe for that one chance we will have to speak to each other for it to never happen again. Such events do take place often as it did in South Pass City with others roaming this past ancient Gold Mine little town, now a well maintained Historic Site. Meeting other for those brief moments I am finding being such a wealth along such as with books read, photos taken, sights seen and felt, Life itself.

 

They say “South Pass is a crossroad in space and time”. It is that intersection of the past and the present which creates from it’s ancient days a blur of the facts maybe painting it all a bit as fiction. And does it really matter if such fiction we want to believe in as being today’s minds reality? So much time has past, so much water has run under the bridges of time, the artifacts remain but the residents are long gone replaced by now us paying homage to what was once. The first dwellings went up in 1859 serving as a stage and freight station. Also a stop by the Pony Express from 1860 to 1861, short lived. In 1863 a small Military detachment from Fort Bridgers, the 11th Ohio Volunteer Cavalry, manned the station. The outpost was even ravaged twice by fire in Indian raids, ending up being also locally known as “Burnt Ranch”.

   

The “Gold Rush”… always the “Gold Rush” in these past years have been the fundamental drive for these established communities at times thriving, at times defunct only to be again being reborn from constant reinvestments of the wealthy wanting to get wealthier as in present times today’s concept not being a new one. Hundreds of promising gold strikes brought thousands of newcomers, interested miners, merchants and entrepreneurs. With time the rise and the fall due to the lack of sufficient gold as the many other similar camps across the American West did not spare South Pass. The Town was however too tough to die. Dedicated core of hangers-on continued to have their own faith maintain the future of the community with diversified means of making ends meet through a variety of industries.

 

 

It included ranching, haying, timbering, market hunting, freighting and cottage industries, and by the late 1890’s, South Pass became and remains as seen and felt through our own eyes. It’s remote location made it difficult to sustain as even another mine near by, the Cariso Mine, changed hands several times as the result of national and international economic cycles. It’s closing and re-opening cycles rippled through the South Pass area in repeated boom and bust cycles. What remains are the passing by tourists these days attracted to such historical past, a past maintained by the hard core locals. In 1968 the Town celebrated it’s Centennial and a group of Wyoming’s Citizens banded together and purchased the remaining Historic structures. Through donations, entrance fees, they have achieved their goal preserving one of the best examples of a Frontier Mining Camp as today, the Town is almost exactly as it appeared a Century ago.

   

As having found a needle in the haystack, we left by the end of the day after taking refuge at the Mercantile General Store where Yvonne kindly let us remain in while buckets of rain dropped off the skies. Spirit, always well behaved, managed to find the only carpet to lay on amongst the old wood floors and myself, even though not being a soda drinker, tasted this kind of root beer made from what was to me an unknown root called “Sarsaparilla”. Made with cane sugar, it was good I must admit. I think Wyoming has also the big skies, no doubt as I stopped often to capture them riding through this Gallery of paintings in constant changes. We will be back as also there and there… so much to experience.

 

Till next time… be well.

Ara & Spirit

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“A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving”  ~ Lao Tzu

 

From Ennis we have arrived in Lander, Wyoming, riding through beautiful Yellowstone Park, and yet I called that day a “beautiful nightmare”. Have these people in the Park gone delirious? Tailgaters, vehicles stopped in the middle of the lane to unload the wife and kids because they saw a branch move, others parked half way on the road in the middle of a curve… The list goes on and on. We end up sliding right through it, not a single photo, this was not the time to be overcomed by the madness of the swarming gazillion visitors. As my Friend KC said, September will be the better time. The Park is indeed a landscape that leaves me speechless. While here now and getting ready for my solo Journey to Germany, I took the opportunity to regroup everything we carry and as I have had quite a few requests curious about my packing, this is my chance to show it all off. The simplicity of living out of the hack amazes me often, many bags, but everything always in the same space, less than an hour to set up and the same to take it all down, packed and ready to go.

   

Bag #1. All my bags are waterproof. They all have different threshold of pain as everything, unlike the traveler, is exposed to the elements 24/7, meaning getting beat by the constant UV rays. This bag has my hair/beard clippers, itself in a bag, and Spirit’s food in one gallon freezer Ziplocs bags. A little pricey on his food situation as I can only buy 10lb bags. The two bags themselves are from Exped.com. They have hold up very well for years, however their closure being drawstring, they are not my favorite. They are more meant as a waterproof bag in a non waterproof bag.

   

Bag #2. This is my most durable bag so far from Ortlieb. It has to be about 15 years old. Faded yes, but has maintained it’s waterproofing and the ease of the closure makes it a quick access. It contains my REI Bivi Bag when I am not setting up a tent, a couple books in a Ziploc bag, my toiletry bag, micro fiber towel, a reversible sack with a soft liner (the orange one) which when stuffed with clothing makes it a great pillow eliminating the “pillow problem”, and my 0 degree Big Agnes Sleeping bag. The pad which slips into it has a -5 degree rating and is stored in another bag.

   

Bag #3. This bag remains on the hack 24/7/365. It is a Sea-to-Summit bag, rubber, seems to be holding very well. Will see in about a year if the UV rays will destroy it or not as it is fairly new, only a few months old. This is for all the riding gear, at all time. Spirit’s coat, a Gerbing micro wire heated jacket, it’s two pairs of also heated gloves, a spare pair of regular gloves, fleece turtle neck, a regular balaclava and a heavy duty one with a chest protector, a Vanson vest, heavy duty waterproof pants, another waterproof pair of pants, (the best, Coleman for $15), a Sierra Design fist size when folded windproof, waterproof, breathable hooded jacket, riding jacket liner and a spare wool hat.

 

 

Bags # 4 and # 5. These are see through heavy duty pliable PVC Ricksack NRS  bag with fiber thread reinforcements. A bit stiff when cold, fairly new to me also, time will tell how long they will hold. # 4 bag contains my Kermit chair for hours of comfort reading and cooking, a couple bottles of propane for the catalytic heater and the -5 degree Big Agnes Hinman pad, the most comfortable bed I have ever slept on. Bag # 5 is my Hilleberg tent. This is one unique item that has totally changed the course of living on the road with comfort, ease of putting it up and taking it down quickly in any weather condition as the ground clothe, tent and fly always remain attached.

   

Bag # 6. This one sits on top of the Pelican camera box. It is a Sea-to-Summit also bag, a softer material which has held up well these past few months, reminding me of the Ortlieb bag but not quite as thick. It hold my catalytic heater minus the propane bottles, air compressor with separate gauge, my night bottle and a spare lightweight rain pants which I use to wrap the heater with while packed.

 

Bag # 7 and # 8 are two coolers. They get situated in the nose of the sidecar along with 2 x 1 gallon water jugs, a bow saw with an extra blade and a hatchet. We rarely use refrigeration. They have ample room for local ingredients from fruit and vegetable vendors often specially this time of the year lined along the road. The nose of the sidecar is one of those spaces that has a lot of room to throw in an extra T shirt, Spirit’s food and water bowls, map book, his helmet when he is not wearing it, moccasins and any extra items found on the road before they get packed away in bag #6 which still has room for more items. It is a mad logic!

 

Under the bags on the front nose of the sidecar, a spare blanket for Mr Spirit besides his newly foamed pad he rides on, a folding bucket and a few rags readily available when needed.

Bag # 9, the Wolfman Tank Bag. The best tank bag I have ever used, waterproof without a cover. I have it mounted in the reverse position, it suits me better specially leaning forward on it sometimes and also the cover flapping open on the seat instead of the instrumentation panel. Mosquito spray, mosquito head net, tire pressure gauge, keys, cards, change, 12V cords for I Pod, phone, heated gear, all the miscellaneous personal items which need to be readily available.

 

Bags # 10 and # 11. Right and left tank panniers. Two more great waterproof Wolfman products, seriously, forget anything else. Sorry. No zipper fighting, no leaks, no non sense. The right bag has a cover for the bike. No sense getting all the electrical soaked when it rains for day. First aid kit, trickle charger and a 140W inverter. Much is recharged when riding. In the left bag with easier access, a 1TB external drive well protected, my medication bag, a book, some postcards of us and a satellite phone. An incredible deal from the county where “The Oasis” resides, $17 a month for 3 hours of talk. Besides my SPOT another peace of mind along with us.

 

Bag # 12. The rear case, a Pelican 1550 with foam insert, waterproof and dustproof  for three cameras. Two Canon 5 D’s full frame. One with a 16~35 2.8 “L” lens, the other with a 24~70 2.8 “L”. It is always better to not change lenses on the road for the fear of dust on the sensor. The third camera is a Canon G11 with also the capability of shooting manually on RAW.

     

Bag # 13 and the rear Pelican camera case. This is the main ingredient. I call it the “kitchen sink”. It is another very old Ortlieb bag with a roll on closure, reinforced, for all the “other stuff”. Weight? Have no clue. Don’t want to know. The list is long. One bag for spices, olive oil and balsamic vinegar in small plastic bottles, spices are all salt free, fresh roasted coffee, another bag for garlic press, lime press, knife sharpener, cheese grater, 3 types of spatulas. Coffee grinder, (my great grand mother’s, 00 fine, brass and cracked and taped), French Press, frying pan, set of 2 pots, 2 knives and flexible cutting board. Coffee mug, stove, low folding table, lightweight utensils and chopsticks, camera sensor and lens cleaning kit, little broom and dust pan for tent, a twin-max to synchronize the bikes throttle bodies at times in it’s own little yellow Pelican case, towels, sewing kit, sponge, paper plates… and probably more.

 

Bag # 14. Left rear saddlebag. All for electronics. Laptop, camera chargers, cables for Smart Phone and I Pod, two more external memory drives, 250GB and 100GB, small Brunton solar panel which will recharge my Smart Phone in one hour since it is what I use to write with, AC and DC cables for all, spare memory cards.

 

Bag # 15. Right rear saddlebag. All regular clothing. 3 of each, more tops however. 3 short sleeves, 2 long sleeves one being turtle neck, lower and upper thermo wear. The red bottles are 4 rear ones for cooking fuel and two larger front ones for engine oil. Red Line, the best synthetic oil, I also use for the final drive and gear box. Nearing 240,000 miles I am convinced. 

 

Storage # 16. The trunk. About 20 lbs, maybe more, of tools. Spares, everything from clutch and throttle cables, fuel filter, oil filter, belt, scissor jack, electric cord, 2.5 gallon sun shower, spare tubes, Gorilla glue and tape, wood blocks and short planks, work gloves, knee pads and probably more… We can carry a total of 5 gallons of water and 10 gallons of fuel. I am thinking about reducing the fuel to 7.5 gallons which would give us roughly a range of 225 miles (at 35mpg) and increasing the water to 7.5 gallons which only in cooler weather would give us roughly a week’s worth of water. Yes, it is a different Lifestyle, I realize maybe a bit odd, but truly we are not missing anything and as long as Mother Nature and our Friends and Family are kind to us, this is the path which provides my Wealth.

Till next time… be well.

Ara & Spirit

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“In the attitude of silence the soul finds the path in an clearer light, and what is elusive and deceptive resolves itself into crystal clearness.  Our life is a long and arduous quest after Truth”  ~  Mahatma Gandhi

   

I forget about the "IT" moments till as right now, this very moment, "IT" slaps me within and into every facets of my soul. Miles and miles of no man’s land is ahead of me, I cannot even find a sheepherder this year, maybe they have moved. It is cold here at almost 9000 feet, when the sun goes in hiding almost freezing. It feels good. I found a rock to sit on. Spirit’s head is barely showing amongst the tall grass. I wonder what he is thinking. Maybe he is not, maybe I should not either.

   

My thoughts have been on some Friends lately. A few of them. Their obvious stress. It shows in their health, their behavior, their well being. They are unbalanced, tilting toward the down slope we should all avoid. So many reasons, all the wrong reasons. They cannot detach themselves from the roots of their own society bombarding them with the constant flow of mind disturbing darts. They are trying to reach for the big hands of Life’s clock wanting it to go faster and faster to taste what is only a desire, which could be some day or not, letting the present moment slip away which will never be back and I hope not causing regrets. I am aware of it as myself slip away at times, unconscious of how detrimental the path can be only to catch myself and stop.

 

I feel lucky suddenly. As with such little material wealth, a Life totally unconceivable by so many, there is a harmony I am able to achieve so often. Not every day. Often. Lucky? Maybe it is the fact to have let go of it all to get it all back, not in gold coins, not in "stuff" accumulated, but only in a perpetual mental state of mind.

     

We went back to the "Gravellies" one more time. I even took a video of our descent, if I ever find a stable connection I will be able to upload it to You Tube. We had company this time. Some Friends we had never met before. Pam (Zelda), Randy and of course Tasher, a close cousin of Spirit. What an incredible personality. She of course knows it. Dogs are too smart. Complete opposite of Spirit who can play himself hard but I know also can read others. We first stopped at the local Fish hatchery where I had never seen an albino trout. And then on it was a show all day while they were side by side, till suddenly Spirit, Mr Spirit, totally started ignoring her. I heard him say that he was not going to put up with that spoiled brat who barely did not even let us eat in peace mixed with her barking calming down only when eating right out our plates put on the ground for her, followed even by the pan I cooked with. I had to take Spirit for a hike by then, I did not want him to see that.

 

All and all we had a great time. I realize not many know what to do when transported into such a space where the quiet land has it’s own voice so often unheard to the untrained senses. Spirit has much knowledge of the links of silence as I do. Randy and Zelda had come to my rescue the day before when I had a flat as without much thought only changed the tube without finding the culprit. I found the nail when I went flat again a few miles later. Lucky for us, as it was getting dark and cold, I carry always two spares and their company with also the truck’s headlights made the 2nd change easier. Yesterday again as my water container flew away and I ran over it with a leap in the air, the chair’s hydraulic electric wires came apart and again Randy to the rescue as my frustration started showing up in my composure. We joked that we would start traveling with them! He is a pilot and his knowledge sure exceeds mine.

   

I found a new primitive campsite. With even an old wooden picnic table. It is at about 8500 feet, miles away from it all. Probably the most isolated and remote one I have ever found with the exception of Toroweap. And still, no bear proof canister. The fine is now for not having one $5000. No typo here. We will have one next time as I know we will be back, so much to see here if one as us can get off the beaten path.

     

Till next time…

Ara & Spirit

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“The end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time” ~ T.S. Elliot

   

I remember being at this exact spot last year. The nest is still here, a new bird maybe? I cannot tell. He is talking loud as his voice can be heard over the creek running just a few feet away from us. Could be a she? The road is not as good as it was, of a darker color, wet, today it smells of Earth, the most always pleasant smell. There is excitement, there is an inner path of joy while going up this road. Much more. We stop often as I want to savor every turn of the wheels. The skies have cotton balls floating freely, the sun is playing hide and seek as I am with the camera, Spirit is laying down taking in the warmth of the moment. He knows how to live. It is late however, we are turning around. For now.

   

It was a crazy morning. It took twice as long to pack out of the camper. We stopped at the Ranger’s station and I was talked out of camping at the crest of Gravelly Range Rd. Too many bears right now, Grizzlies, the roads have been very muddy and some have turned into an impossible access. I do not again possess a mandatory Bear proof canister and when I told her I use the trunk of the sidecar for that purpose, she asked me why I would want my sidecar destroyed. So we turned around, back to Teri’s Rusty Cowboy store and house and set up the tent by the pasture. She did not understand why we would not move back into the camper. I looked through her “stuff” displayed, it is as I had never seen it before as there is so much of it.

   

The simplicity of living in a tent has won me over and over. It is I have to admit not just any tent. This 4 season Hilleberg has ample room with one huge vestibule I can sit in using my Kermit chair, cook if needed. The other vestibule is just storage for then mostly the empty bags. What has been so convenient is the fact that the ground cloth, tent and fly always remains attached and all is put up or taken down in about 15 minutes. It still remains a tent and the easiness of it all is also for the fact that the rig always being near by, not everything needs to be unpacked unlike when we moved into the camper for a couple nights. Odd myself I feel being so comfortable living as such, less is more, more time for much else.

   

Tomorrow we are going back to the Gravelly Range Rd. The "Gravellies" as they call them here. It is National Forest. I was surprised camping was not permitted just about anywhere. Maybe again as in many other spaces I have witnessed, the land has been abused, trash and waste has been left behind. Will find out. It is not a popular area, some of the off shoots have been washed away and the main road itself is a bit of a maze. But the days are still long, my seven headlights work perfectly and getting lost even with my old GPS is never an issue.

   

Empty spaces. Amazing. I am reading “Dakota. A Spiritual Geography”. I am understanding and feeling every word of the Author. Kathleen Norris. I am not the only one. I am glad suddenly I am not the only one. The Desert helps me, as she writes, in a radical way of knowing exactly who, what, and where I am. Physically, mentally. All in defiance of the powerful forces of society encompassing alcohol, drugs, television, shopping malls and so much more. All that aim at us to make us forget the realities of the moments. Those moments which are all truly regardless of one might think at times, beautiful on their own “nows”. Bombarded incessantly. And I am learning through her words something new, something new and old, all at the same time, a concept that I have been thinking about, a theory trying to manage it. The book is only a coincidence that has fell into my Life as the many other non fiction books I read. And then again, I do not believe in coincidences. More Faith.

 

It is carrying my insight wherever I am, to stand at Peace and well balanced, could be even downtown New York, and yet feel and be as if I was still within that empty space. Distractions do not allow me when in contact, has not allowed me, to live in the present. There is no need for a strong discipline in the vast empty spaces as it is a necessity in an urban environment. It is as “them” or “I”. I cannot escape the cities daily. Let their wave create my discomfort has now not become an option. It is as being an Island in the Ocean, stand above the surf, the storms, stand above it all with the ability to spiritually remain balanced at all time. The practice of it I am finding hard as the urban space I find is so powerful, penetrating a shield yet soft hoping will with age and thoughts and practice become impenetrable allowing me to remain always on an even keel.

 

“Gravelly Range Road”… “The Gravellies”… it is not just a road anymore, it is a path of a Teaching of Life.
This is not “Ride Report”, it is just a “Personal Journal”.

Be well, always.

Ara & Spirit

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“The Midwestern landscape is abstract, and our response to the geology of the region might be similar to our response to the contemporary walls of paint in Museums. We are forced to live in our eye.” ~ Michael Martone

 

We sure turned the slate around. Big time. We had, to use a long time cliché, the good, the bad and the ugly. Of course with my positive constant on the alert thinking, (yes?), the good tonight as we sit in Missoula prevailed. Would it be more therapeutically fit to write about the bad and the ugly? Not really. There is enough of it to make it go around this Universe without harping on it. Just the couple facts a bit on below.

   

Coming up from a dark corner in a somber cage, only a couple days away from death row, only 5 years later, 4 of those against much trials and tribulations of discussion by so many Pit Bull owners for the danger of being on the road in the open, Spirit is named the AmbassaDog for National Dog Day coming up soon, August 26th. His task? Carry the Torch. My task? Buy him that black chrome Hummer he is now requesting along with an appointment book. Long gone are, he says, the freebie days of photo shoots. I already today saw and felt the change while watching him ride in his present car. This non descript he says sidecar. Of course this is BIG. This is National, these news might even reach some ears on other Continents. My thoughts? A few days of primitive camping up Gravelly Range Rd soon will curve his sudden upscale desires.

   

That is where we are headed. Away. The bad and the ugly? My Debit Visa card was as they said "compromised". Stuck for now or till we find a Bank of America. I sure hope hackers are having fun at this, at our expense. Who are they? Why? Does this go back to our unforgiving Human Nature? The ugly was being stung twice by a wasp having found refuge under two layers of clothing including my jacket, while riding down the Freeway. I had never tested the brakes and the handling of the rig in such manner.

   

It takes so long to know oneself, if one really wants to know and not go through Life as through a pathway resembling the hole of a glazed donut. One knows what they like to eat, one knows the Friends they like to be surrounded with, one knows much, and yet there is more and always will be. The discovery is daily, by the hour, by the minute, specially when riding. I am realizing it all these days having had to compromise my mental and physical path for "musts" which needed to be done, taking care off. I realized it even more as soon as the Big Skies of Montana opened up ahead of us. They are big in Texas, they are big in many other States, I started wondering why they are bigger here?

 

Is it physical, mental. Is it the inner space that suddenly opens up chasing away the traffic jams the urban jungle has been creating within my mind? There is a calmness that descends on me, all is then becomes just fine allowing me to embrace the moments present and renew a bond with Mother Nature I have so much been missing. It is true we create our own destiny by our own decisions, but destiny itself is of many faces and colors. Destiny here is wide open, there is no veil, there is no weight, it is the Earth and myself as there is simply nothing else.

   

There has not been a single moment of a plain blue sky since we have been here. Subjected to all he variations the weather can throw at us, it is as a constant game going though the many phases being of the day while moving on, while standing still, as the knowledge that a cold torrential rain will soon turn into a steamy hot arena and vice versa and all in between. It is covering up for the wet, it is taking it off for the dry, it is loosing a few rounds being too late for the change of costume as Nature itself always seems to be one step ahead and just a bit faster than I am.

 

I don’t remember if I had ever thought before as here being my summer Oasis. I think I have. Circumstances brought me here to wait out for my mail while visiting my Friends Teri and Ron, those two free Spirits who fell in Love last year and are still pulling each other’s hair, with much passion and respect. It is Karma and my Faith of my realizations that finds us here, a magnet like pull drew me here, I knew I would find again what I am looking for, what I cannot unfortunately have always as compromises are also the one key Life itself dangles on it’s key chain. We simply took Highway 90 all the way from Seattle and forgot all the plans in mind to drop south on different routes. The only detour was from Drummond back to 90 before Butte, Hwy 1, a beautiful scenic road. I don’t think we ever moved so fast, it was traveling versus living on the road. I needed to be here, we are now and all is well, all is so majestic and beautiful and more peaceful than ever.

   

It is a dosage of serenity much needed before we soon head back to Lander, sadly part with Spirit, ride on to Denver to catch a plane for Munich and spend a much needed time with my Mother. I know I will be constantly looking down over my shoulder for my crazy buddy! I know he will miss me also, sometimes the choice is just not present. It will all work out and I will be back before he ever knows it…

Be well, always.

Ara & Spirit

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“Such a simple concept, yet so true: that which we manifest is before us; we are the creators of our own destiny. Be it through intention or ignorance, our successes and our failures have been brought on by none other than ourselves” ~ Garth Stein

 

Campground it is tonight. I am incorrigible, I have to escape and we did. "Old Faithful" was ready Friday afternoon by closing time and the ride up toward Mt Rainier was of the best, an uplift I cannot put into words, even if the alignment was only correct with much adjustment of the chair’s hydraulic and preload on the bike. The foreman, Barry, who lives near by and was present upon our return only had a grin listening to my short ride report. He is the best, he knew it would have a need to be once more taken apart. Saturday morning as I came down from my indoor camping space which by then started to feel as I lived there by the fourth night, he must have worked late as all was almost done. With over 30 years experience he is the man to put on the final touch. And what a touch it has been as these past two days the grin while riding has been transferred to my own face.

 

It is such a perfect alignment and feel as I do not want to stop rolling on those roads ahead of us. We end up going up to the Pass on beautiful 90 filled with the dramatic granite tall Mountains to meet my Friends Heidi and Matt also our OnGuard sponsors. We had time to let Matt do a photo shoot for their website right before the shutting down of the lights of the day. Today, we have adventured ourselves on the Olympic Peninsula. Tired from the past days we never made it to a campground called "Mora" I had in mind. The truth is that The Olympic Peninsula feels and is as big as a State. Today it did as we stopped at Quinault Lake. It is quiet and warmer than the foggy beaches we rode through. This will be Home Base to explore a bit of this peninsula.

 

I feel bad today about my emotions, my financial emotions of these past days not expecting the amount of work and care Old Faithful needed. Dauntless has even given me a break shaving off many hours spend wrenching. I feel as I fell below my own principles by panicking, as even if, as it was, rightly so, I have surmounted and are overcoming darker cards laid out in years past. This hand, for that matter, any hand cannot and is not of a level to loose oneself and question consequences yet unseen, unfelt. It takes so much strength at times.

Below are some past photos I was looking for for my Panterra Gallery Show on October 23rd in Bisbee, Arizona.

   

This morning ends up badly. I see on my phone that it is actually after noon. Food poisoning. I know better and yet again purchased some blue cheese potato salad from Safeway yesterday to avoid cooking dinner. Bad batch obviously. I never buy ready made salads. One never knows if food safety rules have been followed. Maybe it stayed out too long. I know it comes from a central warehouse. It has been rough waking up at every hour of the night. At least this gave me a chance to understand why they call this area a rain forest. It was not raining, but it was as the ground, the tent and soon myself where soaked. I have the feeling we are not going anywhere today, being on a schedule would have been detrimental.

   

Not much has changed. We have been here a couple nights now and only yesterday late afternoon was able to push myself to the little store down the road. I have not had food for two days now. Drank some Gatorade to replace my lost nutrients. I ate some real charcoal also last night as I was told it would absorb the bad guys. I am afraid due to the pain that has not gone away this might turn into an infection. Might head out to a Hospital today or tomorrow. Have not seen much of anything here on this Olympic Peninsula. Only my campsite which fortunately is very quiet. I think the charcoal has helped as the pains now are only coming and going every half an hour or so. I actually made breakfast. Green onions, tomato, mango, cilantro, zucchini and a couple eggs. I don’t know yet how it is going to sit as I am nervous to eat. I might backtrack to Aberdeen where I am sure has a Hospital. It is so unpleasant as being locked in this campground not able to roam freely. I pull my strength from Lance. This is nothing ever compared to what he has gone through his last two years. My thoughts are always on his path, they give me courage, they let me know how futile all is as so few of us should really complain about incidents of our own Life’s events.

   

Barely feeling human again this morning, walking back and forth and around at camp, Spirit not helping me with a decision, I had to take one. Would we leave this area without seeing Neah Bay? Yes. I just did not bond with the space. That is just me. It did not, unlike the campers we have seen on the beaches parked on lots inches from each other inhaling the neighbor’s wood smoke, smelling each other’s food and listening to their ongoing stories. It could be the getting sick part took it all away, who knows, we are already a bit east of Seattle off highway 90, no clue to the name, but we are at Peace.

   

Am I getting temperamental as to our destinations? The path I choose? Most likely without a doubt. It was necessary to come here. Again with a big grin on my face "Old Faithful" was rolling with ease and a comfort of mind down the road. Dauntless did a superb job rebuilding the car better than before. We also stopped at Touratech this afternoon on our way out, and the experience and service was outstanding. They are the adult and serious toy store for the rider, off road in the past, on the road also at present with a complete new line for the touring bike. My toe bone has been bruised forever and I knew they would not be too far from our exit eastbound. A replacement shifter sounded like a dream, it became reality. Smog, smoke, overbearing noise even through my earplugs, but saved by the diamond lane and the kindness of drivers letting us change lanes quickly when lost, (they really did it to watch Spirit! I called him "the lane opener" today), we got there in one piece.

Tonight we are in Spokane, rode the Freeway unusually, did not take the camera out a single time neither! A new tire I am carrying will be mounted tomorrow morning and off we will go on to Lolo Pass, Idaho. We are so ready for a new slate, in the Forest… Another day has now gone by. A new slate? The great news is Spirit being named the AmabassaDOG for National Dog Day coming up August 26th. He will carry the Torch. Not so good news? My VISA Debit card was as they said “compromised” and shut down… We will be in Missoula to straighten it all up on Monday. Gazillion phones calls… We are going to Ennis, Montana, see our Friends Teri and Ron, get lost on Gravelly Range road where money does not mean a thing! Come to think of it, it is the same at “The Oasis”!

     

Be well… there is always someone worse off than you are.

Ara & Spirit

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“The old Soul of a Dog has much to teach us about being Human” ~ Sara Gruen

 

I wish I could tell him to go see a Doctor. I can do it all but talk. How frustrating is that? I could smell that bad salad he ate a couple days ago. But, what to do? Jump and knock it to the ground? Maybe I should have. He never gets upset with me, we have such a mutual understanding and respect for each other, as it should be. I was already so taken away by those two other dogs where we spend the night at his Friend’s house, I could not think straight, I know he could not either. Ozzie and Jessie, barking and growling at me all evening making me feel ashamed being a dog. They did the same to him. Amazing as all dogs love him always. I never get jealous though. They sure were ill mannered and had the run of the house and being so mean even outside around people and us when we met. They are so lucky I control my emotions, those miniature Australian Shepherds would have not lasted 2 minutes of roughing it. At least I kept my composure which is more I can say for them.

 

So he has been really sick, specially the first night. I knew it was like raining every time he had to leave the tent and run to the near by bathroom. At least he was smart enough to camp not too far from it even if I can catch the smell of it which he cannot. He is so happy with the rig now, and when he is happy I am too. He talks to me more than ever then. He does not know quite yet I understand it all, but I like his talking even if it is like sometimes making me feel ignorant which I am not. I had a great time during the repairs. Four nights. I wish it would have been longer. Everyone was so nice to me, even have new foam now for my pad. Babe, Cobalt and the very cool cat Pumpkin, well, I miss them even if Babe was a little territorial and grumpy.

     

Maybe we can get a cat like Pumpkin. There is room in the car and they don’t eat much. I could have then a playmate and train him to growl like I do. I just wish I could growl without wagging my tail. That would have more effect when strangers I smell ill walk by us. He thinks I don’t understand a thing and yet he brags and claims that I do. He needs to make up his mind on that one. I think he knows deep down but likes to play the game when I am the one that should. It is not my fault I cannot talk, they made my tongue too long, lucky I can chew my food, "that food", the same one every day, twice a day. I wonder how he would feel eating the same thing over and over.

 

But, I am a Dog. To make the matters worse, a Pit Bull. We have such a bad reputation already, I don’t want to complain about my food or anything else for that matter. I have the best Life and the best buddy around. He is always telling others he wants to trade places with me. I have been riding the country in this open air car smelling more stuff then a hundred of other dogs in their Lifetimes. I have more miles than any of those passengers that get those silly mileage awards at the BMW Rallies. So even if I am not human, why don’t I get one? That reminds me of the gazillion people we walked through at this Rally we went to. I know he had a good time when we went into the buildings where it was cool. He had an even better time when so many grimaced seeing me as now being a Service Dog as I can go anywhere with him. So many also petted me. I could smell their own dogs they had left at home. I hope at home and not a kennel where so many die from kennel cough. So sad.

   

The best time was when we went to the Library in Coos Bay. The librarian with her thick glasses at the end of her small nose asked him what was wrong with him to have a Service Dog. No one is allowed to ask that question. He replied so quickly "and what is wrong with you?". I like it when he stands up for me as I do for him. It happened again when it was getting late one night and got stuck going into a KOA where I am banned. The poor Lady behind the desk trying to call the owner who was not answering his phone was turning all shades of red while for the first time he got hot, telling her the campground will just be shutdown for breaking the Laws of the American Disability Act. We made a lot of Friends that night after setting up the tent.

I am just a dog… he is just a man… but we have each other. That’s all we got and I would not trade that even for some talking.

 

Be well… there is always someone worse off than you are.

Ara & Spirit

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Summer Storms. That time of year out here in the West where we get our rain in short violent bursts. The Desert changes in an instant from parched arid soil with small creeks which are often dusty arroyos into raging torrents of water.

This week I am in Utah though and the weather here is just about the same. Wet in the afternoons and evenings with pockets of rain that can be seen miles away.


Looking North over Boulder Mountain the storms are forming.



The storms are coming in now and it is only a few minutes before it is pouring down.


The rain drops almost an inch of rain in about 20 min. We know we can't take the motos but we hop into the truck to see if there are any flash floods in town or in the park.


The go kart track is now a river. Not that anyone has ever seen a go kart on the track....


The driveway to the Sandstone Inn is awash in rocks swept down from the hill above. Water still flows and we head off to the park.

As we get past the visitor center we come upon the first signs that the water is up and more is gushing into the canyon. While most of my friends know this, it is worth repeating. STORMS MILES AWAY CAN CAUSE FLOODING CLOSE TO YOU! Therefore if you are in areas subject to flash flooding and small canyons make sure you are out before the afternoon storms hit.


Here you can see one of the waterfalls flowing into the already swollen Fremont River.


Another water fall just up the road from there.


This view shows just how much water is coming our way.

We drive on to Grand Wash where we run into Dave and a few other Rangers. The water has already passed here this time but it was pretty massive. The road sits about 6ft(2meters) above the wash and there is mud and debri all over the road.


Bob, Janet and I just look on in amazement at the power of the water. Dave tells us that there are 2 people on the other side of the river that they are not sure they can get out today. Also cars in the parking lot at the other end of the Grand Wash Trail are stuck in mud and they are using a Bulldozer to pull them out. Did I mention that you need to be careful around these canyons yet???


Mud all over the road



One of the things I love about this part of Utah is the fact that they get the roads cleared fast. Pretty cool that this guy was on the scene so fast.


Janet and a ranger discussing the bike race. That whole flood thing is really not news the day after a race


Even now the sun is starting to peek out over the horizon. These storms come and go. But the flash flood is still miles away from us and coming.


Other Storms in the area are still dumping water into the basin


I always have to take this picture here since Caneman and I took some here years ago.


We decide to head towards home again. As we get to the visitor center though we see the river has crested and is in major flood stage. We turn around and race back to Hickman Bridge to catch it coming downstream.


We get there and I start to take some photos. Please take note of the water level compared to the cement walls on the side of the bridge. The amount of time it took to fill was under 10 seconds.



That my friends is a LOT of water!!

We head back to the house amazed again at what nature can do.


Not sure "What it Means" but I sure do love being up here.

Next the ride to Colorado and putting the band back together for a while..........

It is time for another ride. While married life is so worthy and I enjoy all of the time with the kids, I still need to get out and ride once in a while. Lucky for me Laura has really started to enjoy riding her bike and I see a lot of fun in our future. This morning though I am off with her blessing for a week of riding. I love my wife!


Photo by Laura
Our Hero is up before dawn (hoping to beat the heat) and has the GT loaded for a quick jaunt up to Torrey. I need to be in Page for a meeting by 8am so it will be a pretty quick run up the mountain this morning.


The Dawn finds me already 2/3rds of the way to Flagstaff.


First stop is getting gas in Flagstaff.


My first of several mobile offices. Amazing how with just a laptop, a blackberry, I can work almost anywhere I can pick up a signal. Crazy

I quickly make the rest of the trip up to Torrey where I settle in at Bob's for the next 5 days. This weekend is the Capital Reef Classic Bike Race and I have agreed to be a motor for the event. I love working this bike race.


It is always nice to get to Torrey!

I arrive at the starting line early and find out that I am going to be leading out the Cat 3 Mens group on an 82mile race. The race will also include a ride over Fish Lake. That is a total elevation gain of close to 4000ft for the riders.


This is the group I will be leading this morning. About 20 riders and they are fast. My job is to make sure that traffic is clear of the leaders, provide some time checks for the leaders, and to make sure that they do not cheat.

After about 10 miles of racing two riders make their break and quickly build about a 3min lead over the peleton.


One lone rider then tries to bridge the gap. He manages to get to within 90 seconds of the leaders but the big climb looms ahead


And this climb is brutal


Soon the peleton is splintered over about 5 miles and each rider works to get to the summit.


All the while the leaders have powered to about a 5min lead. These two guys actually pass some of the riders who had started 10 minutes sooner in the pro group. At this point they are riding at around 10,000ft (3000m) elevation. Tough dudes.

We get to the back in 3 hours 44 minutes. That is a pace of about 21mph. Amazing when you factor in the big climb. I can't wait for next years race. This year they had over double the riders of last year and I am sure this race is going to just get bigger over the next few years.

With the race over we head home and get ready to go to the Farmers Market.

Janet is making amazing Ginger Preserves now which are really hard to find in the US. MMMMM


Ed thinks he can get this working if he could only find the right tool in Bob's Garage.


Bob talking about local plants. One of the things that people always think when you are in these small towns in the back country is that you have nothing but hunting rednecks. The only real difference to the stereotype in this region is you insert Mormon Redneck, instead of Beer Drinking Redneck. Nothing could be further from the truth. I meet more diverse, highly educated philosophical wine drinking Rednecks here than anything else.


I end up hanging with Beth at her Wood Burning Pizza Oven Trailer catching up and making pies. This is such a cool thing. The trailer has a real wood burning oven on it and they are making some good money with it. Keep it up Beth. They are worthy pizzas!

We head back to Bob's and do what we do best in Torrey.


Enjoy one of these on the porch.


We are joined by Dave who is one of those Redneck Biologists who works for the Park Service at Capital Reef. You can tell how bored we are here.

We agree to meet for breakfast the next morning and head out to explore an area that Bob hasn't even looked at. Dave agrees to join us so the Tundra will be full for an adventure! Whoo Hoo!!

I really wish Laura and the kids would be here because I have no doubt that they would be not only enjoying themselves, but would be getting a wonderful education as well. Missing them for sure.

Sunday's Adventure
After getting Breakfast we head on down to the park. We are going to pick up Dave, but we also want to get some Apricots. One of the areas of Capital Reef is called Fruita. It has many different Orchards that the 1st settlers planted and the Park Service keeps them going. You can go and harvest the fruit and pay for them using the honor system.


The orchards are nestled along the river under massive Red Cliffs.


Edd finds some fresh Apricots and gets to picking. And for all my friends concerned about his papers, he assures me he is a US Citizen.


These Apricots are DELICIOUS!!! And that tool is the bomb.


After getting a full bag we are off to pick up Dave at his house. He brings along his Ranger Gear which include a radio.


I compliment him on his backyard Rock Garden but think it may be a little over the top

Before we head out into the boonies we have to get one thing that is really critical for our survival....


NO not the SPOT!


Cafe Diablo PIES and Ice Cream!


We meet some of the locals too. They don't seem that interested in the pies.

After heading out we start to hear radio chatter about a wild fire on Boulder Mountain. There are several agencies on and after a few minutes I hear our friend Jamie Austin on the radio. He is the Fire Chief in Torrey.


The area around Torrey has such diverse geography. I never tire of exploring it


All of us soon are lost in our own thoughts but are really enjoying the time spent together with friends.


Even if we didn't have a high ranking park ranger in the Truck with a radio Bob would still never deviate from the proper path. Ed on the other hand.....


We end up at the radio repeater station which is solar powered and allows the rangers and other emergency officials to get better reception down in the canyons in the park

A few cool Pics

Worthy Spider Web


The Yin and Yang of Life in a tree


The Valley below

As we come down the mountain, Janet gets into trouble with Bob. I tried to warn her....but you know how he gets when "Monty" comes out.


Objects are in fact closer than they appear sometimes.

Actually Janet can't sit in trucks long on the best of days and after riding over 50 miles the day before in a bicycle race, she needed to keep from cramping up. So she walked the slower sections of the trail.

We head back to town and the fire is still out there.


Dave starts to scan the mountains for the fire.


While not a huge fire, it is in a area that is remote. It goes out though by nightfall. Bummer because that are really could use a good burn.

A great day!


And we quickly fill these and enjoy another great night in Torrey.

But there are storm clouds on the Horizon and that tail is next to be told.....

“On life’s journey faith is nourishment, virtuous deeds are a shelter, wisdom is the light by day and right, mindfulness is the protection by night. If a man lives a pure life, nothing can destroy him.” ~  Buddha

 

Last night was our once a week “motel room”. 4 per month. More of a need than anything else. Libraries are great, my writing is done on my phone, (“Incredible” by Verizon), but I like going through my photos in a dark room and a couple “real” showers are as true Life again is flowing. It is budgeted, as I try for everything else except for surprises, at $200 a month as I find it being reasonable with an average of $50 per night, sometimes less, avoiding the pricey ones. I always try to get in early and leave late to get the full 24 hrs. This morning, about a 100 miles or so south from Enumclaw I had two options. The Freeway or back roads. Dark grey skies prevailed, Freeway we started on and rode to our destination as for once we had a good tail wind and after 9am traffic was non-existent. Sigh of relief… I compare being here as going in to see the Doctor, or Emergency Room for that matter, meaning… we made it, we will leave all fixed up, nothing can now go wrong or get worse.

 

Jay, Barry, Doug, everyone has been amazed how well the sidecar has held up for these past 5 years. They have a new design, unfortunately I cannot afford it and they are bending backwards to fix me up better than new. A few rubber bushings are being changed with stainless steel sleeves and bearings, the metal tree which holds both hydraulic lift and shock is being redesigned, cracks have been found in the A frames holding the car, they will be welded. Karma has been good to bring us here “now” versus later when some serious damage could have taken place.

   

So we are camping upstairs, in the upholstery office, patiently and gladly as things are shaping up real nice, better than they ever were. We are at idle. We have been loaned a truck but I don’t know where to go, more, it would be a totally different set up for us. I just realize I am so used to the “Old Faithful”, 24/7, it would be a bit like leaving a wallet behind, something of that sort, as I need to be here to nurse her back to shape even though she is very well taken care off.

   

We have fallen into Thursday evening now and some surprises have presented themselves. Rusted bolts which needed to come off being the rig needs to be aligned again from scratch, they broke off, holes have been tapped, all is now waiting to be put back together. Friday noon, early afternoon is the goal. We will go and test ride it and leave packed on Saturday morning. No sense adventuring ourselves late on a Friday with the rest of Seattle trying to also find a campground. My Friend Andy came by and took us out for breakfast. It was a feast as I have not been cooking these past days and surviving on sandwiches and fruit of some sort or another. Andy drives now a Jaguar, Spirit from his looks I can tell I think wants me to also get a Jaguar.

   

However “His Highness” had to later sit in a small pick up truck we borrowed. Somehow his look was not quite as happy. That hurts.

 

I kind of lost it this morning after a bad night of sleep with much physical and mental pain. Strange as I only can be stressed upon the financial end of this. The ramifications will cost us soon, borrowing from one facet of the budget to pay for this is not going to make it easy on us and yet, this was necessary otherwise with the only option to park our transportation. I even started thinking about going and finding a job, something that will offset this situation. I get upset, I did get upset being in this puddle, it is mostly a constant fact. Never bothered me truly till now when the big expense is presenting itself.

   

My Mother has already send me my round trip ticket to Munich, Germany, for September 1st flying out of Denver. My good Friends KC and Mia will keep Spirit company, he loves them and they love him. What can I start till then when the matter is we need to be back in Lander, Wyoming, in less than a month. Maybe the Stars and the Moon are offset these days and my Faith has become a bit shaky as to our future on the road. “Panterra Gallery” , in Bisbee, Arizona, is going to have my Photography up on their walls sometime in October. Winter will be discipline time in Texas, 5 days a week, 10 hours a day for I am guessing 3 months editing the contents of these 600 chapters into a Book, all being such positive aspects, and yet none a present band aid to an increasing cost of Life on the road.

 

“I just thought I’d let you know that the script has now been sent out to various production companies in the US and in the UK.  I have sent it to producers over here and Ludwig and Paul’s US agent, Rob Carlson, [William Morris Agency], has contacted producers on your side of the Atlantic.  It was a question of putting our heads together and selecting the producers who would be right for the project and who would be likely to make this sort of movie. We now keep all our fingers very tightly crossed and of course, we’ll let you know the moment there’s any news.” This is an e mail I received a few days ago. I do not live or will live as it is a reality in parallel with our present Lives, and yet, so many have worked already so hard these past 25 months, who knows? Life.

 

We are onto Friday now. “Old Faithful” is being put back together and re-aligned properly. There was more discovered damage. Old bolts rusted out needing changing, a couple extra unwanted hairline cracks in the present mounts have been welded and repainted. Doug and Barry and the rest of the crew are doing an incredible job, there is 100% confidence this is going to be the best it has ever been. There will be a peace of mind while rolling down the roads, paved and unpaved suddenly so much looking forward to. I was thinking as “sidecars” are so often targeted to motorcycle riders that it should be the opposite. A vehicle with a great gas mileage, much storage and an open air feeling unmatched by even any sort of convertible automobile. Much room for a spouse, kids, groceries, pets… not all at the same time but definitely designed with much cargo space. Fun factor.

 

Be well… there is always someone worse off than you are.

Ara & Spirit

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“Men come and go, cities rise and fall, whole civilizations appear and disappear – the Earth remains, slightly modified. The Earth remains, and the heartbreaking beauty where there are no hearts to break… I sometimes choose to think, no doubt perversely, that man is a dream, thought an illusion, and only rock is real. Rock and sun.” ~ Desert Solitaire ~ [Edward Abbey]

 

It is the Golden Hour on this clear and only brisk Friday evening at the campsite on Whalen Island. It is populated, to put it mildly, but it is alright, there are no alternative if wanting to camp on the coast, the beaches of Oregon. Three more nights and the path will be inland. Enumclaw for some repairs on the sidecar. The mounts are tired, will see what kind of magic Jay at Dauntless, the Manufacturer, will have up his sleeve.

Beautiful ride up to Tillamook on a road with a scenery worth stopping at every mile, a road also worthy of the worse ones, crater filled as the ones in California. I guess no one has the money for repair, as also the $500,000 needed for a new light and lens at the Cape Look Out lighthouse. Someone shot the lighthouse. No comments. Speechless.

   

Is it one of those days when all is on track? Seems like it. What track however? A normal day. What is a normal day in our Life? Maybe I need to figure that one out sometime. It is now Saturday evening. We are are still of course at this Motel with no walls. Imagination can run wild, there is no need for photos. It is packed tonight, 2 to 3 cars per site, living on the road is such a learning curve.

   

It is worth it though. The beach is outstanding and these past days so has been the weather. Off the beach now there is no lack of entertainment as we are planted pretty much in the middle of it all and as the camp host said earlier, I can sit here and watch the World go around. Can I ever, smells included. Some campers are friendly, and some are not. Some avoid looking at us like the plague. Some kids are louder than loud and some are so well behaved. The camp hosts are really nice. She is a sweetheart, he is the patrolling police and there better even be no sound of a needle dropping after 10 o’clock. I like that part. These couple days out are the closest so many are going to be confronted with Mother Nature. I am not saying they are in harmony, they are trying, it takes a long time. I should know as I have jumped on the other side of the wall myself and now in reverse have a hard time being in harmony with the Urban Nature.

   

Morning has now arrived. Everyone has a dog or two or three. They are not in harmony, their barking neither as also their owner. I had to go and tell this woman last night to curb her volume on her megaphone and restrain her profanity. Drunk, as most that think it is the norm when let loose on the dirt path, her eyes bloodshot opened wide showing a true bulge of a speechless then consternation. It is a total disarray as everyone is leaving (I hope) and cannot do so without projecting a final round of disrespect and true nature of their uncivilized manners. The lessons I learn, they never cease to surprise me. Is this truly the World I am missing? Where is my cave? My boulder I can hide behind, my mountain top I can live unseen and unheard, where is my "Oasis"?

   

Not fair, I like meeting people, the balance sways constantly as the winds here when trying to stay out of the line of the smoke from the fire burning every night to keep us warm. The balance, always that delicate balance. I started wondering lately how clearly the train of thoughts navigates when in the midst of a tumultuous space. Can the creativity be as fruitful as in the lost wilderness when one only has to confront themselves within the peacefulness of Mother Nature? And even then, how does the weather, the conditions, all, affect one? I know my answer.

 

Be well… there is always someone worse off than you are.

Ara & Spirit

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“Faith is daring the soul to go beyond what the eyes can see” ~ William Newton Clark ~

 

 Another day. The blue skies won today, only a few bursts of clouds, a northerly wind, sunshine present, a beautiful painting. Mother Nature just does not quit, does not know how. How lucky we all are. Time escaped me today. The sun moved on quickly after breakfast and the thought of a nap was just too inviting to avoid it. Spirit and I went on to spend most of the afternoon on the beach, him running like a crazy dog, much needed, and myself taking photos. Vast in front of me the Ocean throwing it’s mist and it’s salty taste. An inviting log and below I tried to put some of my thoughts together.

   

I have had much time to give some serious thoughts about a subject which goes hand in hand with my spirituality, my belief in Karma, the path designed, human principles, every motion of the steps one by one taken by design of the mind. It is one word that can and does circle all of the above. It is a word I only these days learned of it’s true definition, or more truly, besides it’s definition, be the word I did not know would apply to this inner and outer Journey. The word is "Faith".

   

It is all at the same time simple and complex, the latter if one misunderstands as I have it’s meaning. I am not on the path of any certain denomination, my beliefs in themselves, however common with many, do stand out on their own, have a substance never unseen on this stage, they encompass the trials and errors of my days, they are my "Faith", I do have Faith and that simple realization has brought in a concrete slab solidly added to my foundation.

   

I am very aware what has brought this on. New met Friends this past weekend, a new Friend met here while camping, souls as such lately encountered freely exchanging words of their own hardship. Do names matter? They are themselves proud of it as again, such as I, a choice was there in all our own recent past. Life deals many cards without discrimination. Judy lost a daughter a few years back. Tracy has a terminal medical term that is slowly taking her away at such a young age. Richard had an aneurism at 18. He has not been able to work since. We are however all of us, as the list of names is truly longer, all proud Humans because we had a choice, because we chose the upper path, the one our Faith in our beliefs took us on to it.

   

I know Faith in Life had been infiltrating slowly into my Life. It is as my beliefs and all of the above where loose chapters at first in the raw only slowly with time polished and yet have not attained the luster they will have some day, I hope. They are now as being, receiving a hard cover, they are being bonded with a clean seam and a title as a common denominator encompassing it all denoting this vast stage I move on. It adds an order, a meaning to it all, “hope” and yet never promising the solvency of more hardships ahead as it will not halt Life from showing it’s both shiny and dark side. The word and belief of Faith adds a brand that has been missing these past years when emotions passed on through the doors of anger, guilt and finally acceptance.

 

Be well… there is always someone worse off than you are.

Ara & Spirit

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“Everything that seems empty is full of the angels of God.” ~ Kathleen Norris [Dakota, a Spiritual Geography]

 

The “dumbest” thing in Life happened. I am still on the shores of Lost Lake and that word “dumb” is stuck in my mind. It really is not the proper word. I have no clue as to why I am using it to myself thinking about my loss. The space here, floating myself into my “Little Big World” makes me think of him a lot. Constantly. "Where are you Lance? Where are you?". I look around me, wonders laid out to no end filling my vision and my senses incessantly. He is here. I cannot make up what he is wearing, but I see his face. I see his green gleaming so clear eyes, I feel his beautiful hands. I want to be alone with him. I am. I don’t want to leave this space, I know I will have to. I am sad and empty, and yet his presence comforts me. I am hanging on to the memories as nothing else really matters. I am so often afraid my direction will change, this delicate path I sometimes myself do not understand it’s concept or meaning.

   

I know I am off track right now. We did leave this past so serene space and for the past 3 days we have been in the middle and surrounded by 6000 others.What a rollercoaster it is. Time comes to a halt but I cannot. I cannot allow it as much as often the easiness of parking myself in a corner comes to mind. Sometimes I hear the forever "I am so sorry for your loss", as the eyes look away, the tone and volume of the voice becomes feeble. It is meant well, I would not want anyone to understand the constant pain even though I myself know of many on this stage. Unfortunately. But I am sorry also. I am sorry for Lance.

   

I am “myself” here. I am always “myself”, but at times I have to smile when I really don’t feel like it. I have to speak when I only want to be quiet. I want to see beyond but must look at my close up. And maybe it is a good thing to deviate my thoughts and mind too sheltered in a space such as this one. I can sit here and do nothing. The sun again is slowly phasing away, the golden hour is here and now. Today there was only one Osprey fishing. The Eagles showed up this morning and again a while ago to chase him away. My eyes were fixated to every inch of their flight. Their show leaves me breathless, it is an incredible sight. I had to stand up, pull myself together. I built a fire with wood someone had left behind. The smoke will keep the mosquitoes away, the flames will be entertaining and provide warmth.

   

I am exhausted from the past days. Maybe the heat? It was suffocating hot, shade was hard to find. Everyone was so nice, everyone was so nice to Spirit. It was also funny in a strange way to observe the faces of the ones not caring for dogs. I know it is a “flavor”. I wish I had taken some photos of the expressions, and yet, so sad as “a dog” gives so much. Is it maybe they themselves do not know how to give? I don’t know. I am too tired to try to understand. And even if I understood, what would that change? “It is what it is” as usual.

   

We catapulted ourselves out of Redmond/Bend area, the Rally’s location, to only end up of all places, out of desperation…. at an overpriced KOA where of course as everyone knows, Pit Bulls are banned according to their insurance policies. There is no legal way to ask the causes and reasons when it comes to the dealings of a service dog. Plain and simple there is nothing to say but show proof and open the gate. A Federal offense it can be upon refusal. I have to admit that, maybe the word "fun" might be too strong, it was on that genre. No battle but much hesitation on their part.

 

There was no desperation when Old Faithful so smoothly ran west toward first some elevation and on as getting closer to the coast some cooler temperatures. New rotors for the front brakes, new brake pads, a new slightly used right throttle body, fresh oil and filter, a true make over for the old girl much deserving it. A great ride which started with the discovery of a true Bakery in Bend. Another one, a true European flavor of an almost perfect flaky and buttery soft on the inside croissant, a true cup of coffee and a complimentary baguette.  What followed was a job offer. Their Head Pastry Chef has taken on the road to Alaska, a one way road trip ticket. He burned out, I understood all too well. So tempting as a silver platter offering. I could only decline and yet think about it all day.

 

Eventually the green forests turned into flat land and the so familiar wind, southerly, strong and powerful again made a renewed acquaintance. It did not matter. No more heat, the past suffocating days in Redmond where quickly distant memories. Today only a few miles north the stage is now again inviting. A campground on the beach. Our own pathway to miles of sand watching the tide come in ever so slowly, the taste of the Ocean, fog rolling in, patches trailering a blue sky enlarging by the hour. How long will we be able to stay here? We don’t know yet. Camping is difficult in this part of the country. Reservations is the norm, weekends are impossible, we don’t have to be in Enumclaw till next Tuesday for some work to be done on the sidecar. I just found out we will have a spot till Monday. Nice.

   

I have had much thoughts about the Rally. As a Friend told me, they most likely have halted the dynamics of our path. It was a price to pay to be enriched by meeting new Friends and experiencing how many have been so kind to Spirit. As myself always wanting to scratch other dogs, so many strangers asked if they could do so. Probably missing their own left behind for those days. Let’s face it, Spirit was the only dog to my knowledge allowed legally into the buildings. There were others, but unfortunately for them, the matron of all matrons kicked them out as she tried once with us, later on even complaining to me that soon animals will have more rights than humans. Than some humans? They should. She worked for the Fairgrounds I should add. It is all water under the bridge. We are at Peace here. Cold and at Peace.

 

Be well… there is always someone worse off than you are.

Ara & Spirit

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“Alone in the silence, I understand for a moment the dread which many feel in the presence of primeval desert, the unconscious fear which compels them to tame, alter or destroy what they cannot understand, to reduce the wild and prehuman to human dimensions. Anything rather than confront directly the antehuman, the other world which frightens not through danger or hostility but in something far worse – it’s implacable indifference. “ ~ Edward Abbey [Desert Solitaire]

 

We have just arrived. I don’t yet know where we are, somewhere off highway 20 passed Sisters. I need eventually to look up the name of this campground. I however know we have arrived. I see we are at 4000′, 100′ from a lake carpeted with the greenest most luscious grass. There is no one around. We have stumbled on a piece of my Little Big World. We will stay here till the Rally starts, when we plunge into the "other" World. This is when I question myself, my Life, my likings, the gears which incessantly move me forward. The “why’s” and the “how’s”. I try to make sense of it all as this present slice of space is not the one we can always live in. Unless turning into a total hermit. I love people too much to be so. It is always a matter of balance. Always.

   

It is for me a matter of thoughts as in thinking, a matter of in such times as now finding myself, when "my" and "self" reunite and together create this stage upon where Peace is found in a loneliness I cherish as my emotions can play this music, and no curtain will drop till I am ready to exit. Or have to exit as freedom is never totally one hundred percent present, even realistic. It is mental, it is physical, it is breathing deep as thoughts can flow with no interruptions, they have nothing to hang on to.

   

The sights are so present. The lake is glistening, the birds are having a field day, the squirrels are teasing as Spirit has given up even the remote thought of a chase. The wind is playing it’s notes through the trees as the leaves are fanning in approval. The smells come and go from every direction possible, some familiar of the sap and the pine and some so foreign they stop me in my tracks as I start pointing as so often Spirit does. It is quite a slice of Life at the present.

   

We have settled. There will be no need to cook tonight. We spend the most part of the morning in Sisters before stumbling on this hidden Paradise. I like Sisters. I strayed and went into a real Bakery as my eyes crossed and my hunger and "wants" screamed all in unison. A couple dark baked cheddar and Bacon bread sticks, a large piece of blueberry coffee cake, well, two, (one for later), a day old also cheddar this time loaf of bread and I was out minus one coffee cake and a real cup of coffee. Sisters Bakery, it is called. The perfect prescription for well being and major guilt. I stopped at Poppies also, a new Market, Deli type establishment. So glad I was not hungry and yet I managed to put away the little almost sample size of an excellent potato salad. Fabulous ingredients. Lucky we don’t have the room.

     

Yes, we have settled some more. So quickly our makeshift home comes up, like a routine it is, everything is always in the same place and as I look at them, including the panniers, 12 bags. Hard and soft. A bit amazing even to me. So we sit in the sun by the water, it is hot, we move into the shade, it is cold, we move back. I cannot read. The lake is a playground for the birds. There are two ospreys fishing. Brown with a white upper belly they have been entertaining me. Acrobatic and stalling to suddenly drop like a rock splashing the water and flying away with a fish hanging by their claws. They rest in a tree for a bit and shortly come back for more dinner. But suddenly they are gone chased away by two bold eagles. I could not even swallow the realization of those two giants and supreme masters of the air showing up as they did. One much larger than the other. They again came back this morning for a repeat performance. I cannot leave this place which by the way is called "Lost Lake".

   

The Lake is now falling into a shadow. The last rays of the day have now welcomed a dozen ducks leisurely paddling in front of us. Suddenly as with a war cry they take off skimming the water in perfect formation and slowly take off up high into the skies dimming away. Soon the shine of it all will be gone and only the skies will remain lit till true darkness descent on us. And now the deer, the doe, the buck, they are all gathered across this bank, staring and drinking.

   

The mosquitoes are now out in full force but we are prepared with no deet spray and a roaring fire. They still managed to get me through my clothes a couple times, small price to pay. They are just about as big as the birds on the lake. The warmth of the dancing flames feels good."Caveman TV" I use to call it. One channel, in color and smells. Across, the shadows are slowly reaching the peak of the next hill, golden glow, a familiar and comforting color. Soon I will snuggle up into the sleeping bag, zero degree bag, Spirit adding a few degrees. Not a bad day today. I hope the doors of my Little Big world stay open for a while longer. I hope everyone’s does.

 

Be well… there is always someone worse off than you are.

Ara & Spirit

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“But the love of wilderness is more than a hunger for what is always beyond reach; it is also an expression of loyalty to the Earth, the Earth which bores us and sustains us, the only Home we shall ever know, the only Paradise we ever need – if only we had the eyes to see. Original sin, the true original sin, is the blind destruction for the sake of greed of this natural Paradise which lies all around us – if only we were worthy of it.” ~ Edward Abbey ~ [Desert Solitaire]

 

We have finally left the heat behind, the urban noise and smells and smoke. Delirium almost it was, but we got it done. Meaning Old Faithful has again shocks which a ride like new."GP Suspension", as a couple years ago, is the best there is, and they have not asked me to say so! They have the incredible inventory, specially of Ohlins Shocks parts, they also make their own part, they even took me out to lunch. David and Ben, Ben and… almost sounds as a duo that should be making Ice Cream. Glad they do not and work on shocks! The service day coincided with the Century’s heat record breaking. I took the shocks off and the workout is felt today within this beat up body, but now sitting in the woods not too far from Mt Hood, off 26, free camping amongst the trees. The past sound of the waves is now gone, the cool wind has taken center stage.

 

I knew I was stalling a couple days ago while approaching Oregon City. Slowly, ever so slowly, increased traffic, homes, cities after cities, it all creped up on me. I could not ignore the facts any longer and all changed, inside out, it all changed as only now the calm of the present moments have resurfaced. And even here, when riding a one lane road sometimes paved, sometimes not, when it suddenly fell into highway 26 to Mt Hood, I started wondering if I had made a wrong turn and was back in Portland.

 

As I was lingering on the road to no end, this again was a couple days ago, I saw a sign, a home made sign in a yard, yes, one of those, of a mechanic working on VW’s, all in a German tone. My front brakes needed bleeding, I turned around, poor man, middle aged Josh, had his teeth pulled out that day. I was apologetic, as he was holding his chin, we compared notes with my own previous dental experiences and set up an early time for next morning.

   

It is the true amazing water color of “Little Crater”.

It was late, I remembered having seen one of those brown " county park" signs, never found it and stopped at a local Tavern for directions, south of Corvallis. Their menu was also appealing. For $8 I had the thought of not having to cook. When a menu has only one item per night, it has to be good. It was incredibly good. It was a Thursday, pork chops just right with a mountain of caramelized onions, crunchy and soft potato au gratin and the broccoli al dente amazed me. A local and his wife I was speaking with as both curious with our vehicle and Spirit, end up inviting us to camp on their property, the softest grass I have ever slept on, no cot needed.

   

Near Mt Hood, not myself friendly with organized campgrounds, since even more they are filled to the brim anyhow as the whole city of Portland has moved here for the weekend, another local again comes to the rescue directing us to this free space tucked in the woods. Forget the maps, forget it all, it is moving on with the instant connections as they remind me of the old times, times of maybe of past centuries I was not even around yet. When the travel depended on each other, on the villagers, on the offerings of a meal and conversations and not governed as today by some electronic GPS and fast and faster speeds. That is still around with some, one only needs to not just lower their windows while their engine are at idle, but shut it off and take the few steps forward toward a stranger, both physical and mental steps, as they might end up being your Friend of the moment.

   

As beautiful all is here, around within a few hundreds of miles, it is to me crowded. Populated. Hard to find that totally quiet space. A local did tell me however, and this is true everywhere as it is in Texas and a few others States for us, one needs to learn where to go and set up camp. To put it bluntly I do not enjoy the always, one in the crowd, noisy camper in a campground. "That one" will outdo them all, drunk, loud profanities, often in front of children, ear blasting and ear deafening music. I have experienced it unfortunately without a choice.

 

At the same time the safety of camping has changed. Camping in the lost wilderness which is becoming a rare commodity. It is not only my opinion. It is literally of everyone I have spoken with. Unsupervised, there is a "now" apprehension on BLM or National Forest Lands, for more reasons than one. We deal with it either by staying in camp or trying to find that quiet campground, hosted and now half price for us.

   

So maybe I have to stop reading “Desert Solitaire” which is taking me too often back to my favorite Deserts… The Cascades, the roads, the scenery, all is just too justifiable to be here. Mt Hood, ski and snow boarding slopes in the middle of summer, Timberline Lodge, Little Crater Lake, Mc Kenzie Pass, the town of Sisters and more, all worthy of us being here. The Desert is just another flavor, it happens to be my favorite one, it opens up my soul like no other does. This flavor maintains it.

 

   Be well, it is your choice.

Ara & Spirit

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“…there were no other people around and there are still none, but in the midst of such a grand tableau it was impossible to give full and serious consideration. All that is human melted with the sky and faded out beyond the mountains and I felt, as I feel that a man can never find or need better companionship than that of himself” ~ Edward Abbey [Desert Solitaire]

 

Yes, as harsh as the path can be at times, rainy and cold, windy and gray, hail and snow, stuck in a tent vestibule half the size of your bathroom including your ceiling, night time descending upon the ride without a space to put our head down, a flat tire on the side of the road or a medical emergency without health insurance in a foreign town, yes, yet, there is romance being homeless on the road.

 

There is the comfort of the absence of a schedule. There is no calendar often looked at, no hands on a clock, only glancing at the sun when present. There is the freedom of U-turns with no remorse of time limit as the same goes on when chatting with the locals or other campers on their own Journey.There is the same camper, a total stranger only few minutes ago, inviting you for a meal around his fire and finishing it up with melted chocolate mixed in with walnuts and orange segments for lack of anything else.

 

There are the sunny days with cotton ball clouds and an air so clean and pure it will make you dizzy. There are the roads those days you will not upon them even want to stop for the photos only keeping the sights into for your own cherished memories.There are the meals prepared, ingredients brought in by the frequent stops along the roads from the local fruit and vegetable stands also filled with loving honey and jams created not long ago. There is the firewood abandoned by the previous occupants free for some warmth and the glancing at the mesmerizing multicolor flames through the night.

 

There is the curious and the dreamer asking a thousand questions about our own Journey, surprised, sometimes shocked, sometimes also elaborating on their own dream I listen to and encourage to follow without hesitation, before it becomes too late, before it becomes regrets.There is romance when invited from other total strangers homes that know us sometimes better than I do myself. Their hospitality, their kindness, clean sheets and towels and a meal, that one often reciprocated, they light up the path we move on with their presence as we then go on leaving as new found Friends.

 

There is my buddy Spirit always ready to clown, his locking eyes into mine quietly talking of constant affection never diminished wherever we are and whenever as a constant state of mind. His coat always warm on the cold days heating my hands themselves when frozen shut. His head is tucked into my armpit with so often a big sigh, yes, we are together, we are one. There is his unconditional Love lifting my Heart when so often needed only by a look and a hug. No words needed.

 

There are the discoveries around the bend in constant motion filling the senses as all always gathered in one being painted on by the too many colors never blemishing even on those gray foggy days. The Sunrise, the Sunset, High Noon almost blinding, the wind and the sand in our face, the Moon full or crescent or no Moon when the dark nights glows with it’s array of Stars sometimes putting on a show across the skies with a tail I can barely follow.

 

There is so much more. The ultimate freedom to be who I am and one by one climb those steps ahead to find out soon enough who I will be throughout the future presents. The yesterdays are gone, the tomorrows with any hope will be, now is always here, present, at times smiling and at times not. There is never a choice but to confront it. What are you waiting for? For a day or a week or forever, get out there as you will find out truly that there is no such a thing as being Homeless. Our Heart is our Home.

 

Be well, it is your choice.

Ara & Spirit

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“Has joy any survival value in the operations of the evolutions? I suspect it does; I suspect that the morose and fearful are doomed to quick extinction. Where there is no joy there can be no courage; and without courage all other virtues are useless” ~ Edward Abbey ~ [Desert Solitaire]

 

Luck and good Karma was on our path finding this campsite when making a left turn late in the day having almost lost hope of anything viable, only maybe as always plan B, a dirt road to the right or to the left, and when unseen set up for the night. Winchester Bay, just a few miles north was lined with RV’s tighter but as orderly as sardines in a giant can of a small Parking lot. Between them and the Ocean, fitted every which way possible, hundreds more. They all came with their little buzzing, and annoying I must say, satellites with their red flags denouncing through their bouncing through the air the speed kept by those little four wheelers. Why? Why is it always louder seems to most “better”?

   

We quickly turned around after a walk on one of the piers as the winds have now picked up southerly at speeds of between 30 to 40 miles per hour. I let it carry us south toward Bandon with a plan in mind. A quaint little touristy town on also a beach, the winds increased, white caps from the blue waters took on the main curtain calls and as I am watching the many others in shorts and T Shirts, I am myself adding two more layers under my riding jacket. A ship from the Corps of Engineers could not even hold it’s position trying to dredge the waters. Around and around like a rubber duck in a giant bathtub, was turning in circles to no end. Money well spend, it was not quitting time yet. Tax Dollars at work.

   

My thought was then not to confront the wind which would be on our nose, but to ride 42S to Coquille and on 42 back to North Bend. Inland. Should be less windy and cold. It was. I liked Coquille, no tourists, only a bit more traffic probably then usual stopping at the Fireworks display stands, a little town which reminded me more of the Oregon I know. We did not stay long. Tomorrow is our last day here, we will go back to walk around the old town with the old buildings and their murals still standing up.

   

There is no cooking tonight. I am taking a break. Cherries, peaches, a mango, some local honey with natural peanut butter for dessert and a good book. Part of Life on the road. This dish was from a few nights ago. I don’t know what to call it as it only consisted of left over’s with no meat. All diced. A mango, zucchini, green onion, tomato, mint leaves and half a cup of rice. A couple tablespoons of olive oil first to sauté for a bit, then adding a cup of water bringing it to boil and then simmer till the rice is done. Great combination, no refrigeration. If meat is used, it needs to be sautéed in the beginning. A bit of any of Mrs Dash spices and I topped it all at the end with the forever juice of a lime.

 

Today is the Fourth of July. I had this fantasy that while riding we might get invited to eat while I passed by the many BBQ’s I could see smoking and smell grilling. It did not happen. Missed a great shot. This young couple and their toddler, a very small house and a very small green grass yard. The classic white picket fence, an also white round plastic table with its chairs, dishes and silverware, napkins and already a corn on the cob were laid out. The grill was smoking, the smiles neatly showed three white and happy set of teeth, it was however all in their eyes. They were sparkling of joy. It might have been the first 4th of July their toddler was understanding and more than enjoying. The little house was yellow. I did not want to disturb them, the image was just to perfect for the day. I remembered those days of my own long ago. Past tense.

 

We went back to Coquille. Of course all was deserted but the roads had no traffic. The little Thai shack was closed. I met Cheryl however who has been on that road corner now for three years. She has a sewing machine and does mending for the locals. Right there. Outdoor, as long as the weather permits it. She leaves everything there and bicycles on home every night. She is a nice Lady. Another unusual Life."Remarkable" I told her as she smiled.

   

It was still early in the day and we end up riding one of the greatest loop ever. From Coquille to Roseburg on 42, 99 North to 138 West taking us back through Winchester Bay and on south off 101 to camp. No hair pin turns, no craters on the road, just a beautiful countryside pathway, nice curves and a blue ribbon newly paved following the rivers. It was one of those that will linger in the memory of forever. Every mile could have been “one of those photos” and yet, nothing in particular besides the covered bridges we came across were outstanding. All was, every moment including the play with the wind to have it on our back all day.

   

Be well, it is your choice.

Ara & Spirit

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“If” is a small word in our language as it is in yours, but I have come to believe that it is the most heavy-laden word of all the words there are” ~ AZTEC ~ [Gary Jennings]

   

Like a novel of nowadays with a past tense and present, Highway 101 unraveled it’s well exclaimed pages one by one never skipping a beat. Miles of the same chapter tainted in the purest blue form from above, suddenly changes of chapters in a gray rolling low cast throwing in a chill so used to it by now. Good weather times made me push on further with the filled fervor of the ride, at other times the semi darkness and lack of visibility caught me looking for a campground to no avail till passed Coos Bay and it’s flotilla of wooden boats parked in this present time adorned with their upright wings ready for their next fishing outing.

   

A National Park Campground we finally found, using for the first time, for the first day of my new title as a Senior Citizen, my newly acquired Lifetime Golden Age Pass, giving us free access and half price on camping. How exciting suddenly on this day of my 62nd Birthday, our Birthday as Spirit now turns 6. I can legally call him a grouchy and moody "old man"! Birthdays these past years had stopped thrilling me. A celebration of a Childless Father? Today exactly twice his age. But for the first time from so many, the wishes poured in. Dear Friends, you lift me up, you choked me with not only the thought of those two words and other so thoughtful comments, you did with the time you took to do so, and that knowledge in itself is moving me as us sitting here, tent up and moved into the bushes of the Oregon Coast, reminiscing on this day brought into this moment from the so many some distant and some not, past days of the culmination years have brought on. “Thank You” and much more.

   

Coos Bay caught my attention while passing through. We are a few miles north of it, an almost empty Park as I like them, a site in the woods with barely an opening to the mainstream. I think we will set up Home Base here for a few days. I realized just an hour ago about 4th of July coming up. We will need to move on and find another Space for that duration. Everything inner and outer suddenly have slowed down today. Slept late, coffee was also at a refraining pace drank and having a new tire mounted Thursday, there is no rush for any forward momentum. As if there ever was. Getting familiarized with Coos Bay and while running some errands, we were pulled over by a gentleman who knew us. Patrick. He does a lot of art work on car and trucks and after playing tourist on the boardwalk we met up in his shop. Tomorrow he will take us to the Beaches known only to the locals.

   

I was admiring a beautiful 37′ Islanders sailboat owned by the Harbormaster while on the boardwalk. A ketch. One of only 20 built and my years living on a sailboat relayed to the moment so instantly. His is now ready for blue waters as he will be going to the Fiji Islands, New Zealand and more. I now sail and camp on land I told him. Two different worlds, spaces and Life it is. Maybe again some day? Who knows. 

   

The food, ingredients, all has been incredible since northern California. Traveling without refrigeration has been a treat while finding fresh herbs and just about everything else organic and tasting as they should be. Mint, basil, oregano, tomatoes, baby zucchinis… cooking has been rewarding and I think I will get some fresh fish by the beach for tomorrow night’s dinner for one.

 

It has been the forest by the beach. The roar of the crashing waves filtering through the trees almost as if unnatural. The birds and the Ocean are competing incessantly and yet there is no winner. I decided to stay here till the 5th. We cannot leave till Friday because of a needed tire, most campgrounds like the “Ritz Carlton” are by reservation, I don’t want to take a chance not finding space and also not ready to go inland where there is BLM mostly free camping. Next week will see us in Oregon City to have our shocks serviced. They are overdue.

 

This tent, mainly the size of both vestibule, the ease of putting it up and taking it down, has changed our camping mode and Life on the road to an incredible level of comfort. It has been so nice having better shelter and a covered space to sit in, read, write and cook daily. So we are hanging out in this vast and beautiful neighborhood. Patrick end up being busy. Maps replaced him and after finding the Wednesday Farmers Market, we came to Point Aruba where unfortunately the road ends as I see miles and miles of coastline south of us. The beach is below, a moderate hike, but we will stay on the cliffs. I have too much "stuff" exposed today, the signs "lock your valuables" are all over the place. It has been suddenly hot in the sun, the shade with it’s constant cool breeze is amazingly pleasant as we will probably lay down in the tall grass and take a nap. Spirit will wake me up if anyone comes near by.

 

The days are starting to blend in.somehow. We returned early today as I started feeling tired. Kind of drained. Yet I did not want to miss the fish store. I bought a couple pieces of salmon. They have so many different kinds nowadays it started to be a bit confusing. As long as they are not farm fed. They gave me some ice which was the good part, but all will have to wait till tomorrow as we both fell asleep so early and now almost midnight needing to take Spirit out there is not much sense cooking.

 

The morning after. Midnight only saw me up for a few minutes. I am realizing that I have slept for 16 hours. I definitely feel rested now and I think we will just stay here today. Take a hike on the beach, energizing and thoughtful beach, my cure for all ailments, mental and physical. The morning skies are gray as usual always as in the past days awaiting if they will change to blue as they also always have. Spoiled we have suddenly been with the weather unlike times past. A few more campers have arrived but it will be quiet here as every campsite is so secluded."Eel Creek" campground it is called. One to remember.

 

Be well, it is your choice.

Ara & Spirit

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