I've found myself settled in. It's only been a month and some change, but I am rather enjoying the stationary living. I have the pleasure to be staying with some friends I met on the Young and Wild expedition of 2013. These two, Jonelle and Ben were camping in Big Sur with there 4 year old, Sonny, the same time our pack of cross country cyclists were climbing the cliffs...it's a trip to think how the universe works in such crazy ways. I never saw myself living and working in California. Having such wonderful, loving people surrounding me in this place...but Santa Cruz is truely a magical place.
So let us see, back tracking...After I flew home from a winter working at Copper Mountain Colorado, I worked in Flower Mound at Massage Life. I saved enough money in two months to join Elijah and his two sisters on the second edition of The Young Philanthropist's, Young and Wild Expedition...2014.
After a humbling reunion in Panama City, Florida with the family in late May...Moma Joan, kindly drove me a few hours up to Toccoa, Georgia. Where I would reunite with one of the riders, Elijah, from the first expedition. There we organized the last minute details for the 2 month adventure. Memories and excitement overwhelmed us both. It was hard to contain...the amazement we both knew our riders and driver (Elijah's moma :)) were about the experience.
We drove up to Pennsilvania in a sketchy van, provided by the grace of God a few days before the trip was going to launch. There, we built our bikes, and moved forward with preparation at Matt's house (co-founder of The YP).
We lost a rider that weekend. Timmy. On our ride back in from The New Jersey Shore we had to take him to the hospital. Suffering from dehydration, further developing into Rhabdomylosis. He was fine after a couple of days of fluids, but a very worried mother back home decided she wanted him home.
Having to continue in order to keep to the schedule, Timmy stayed with Matt's family until his mother came to bring him back home to Georgia. This left 4 riders and Eli's mom to drive the sketch chase car.
Over all it was a great challenge. For all of us. Jamie is 18 and Jessie 19, both attending Toccoa Falls (like there older brother, Elijah who is 21 now). A small Christian college tucked away in one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen.
The power of connection, communication, and love in the Smith household was overwhelming and beautiful. Something I had never experienced.
We road and drove across the states in 7 weeks...before school was back in session... As for myself, I had no plan after this trip...kind of sounds familiar, eh? haha. I don't think this lifestyle is going anywhere for quite some time..if ever.
The New Jersey Shore. The confusion of the long Schulykill Trail in Phili. The hospital trip for a warning we didn't take serious enough in Pottstown. Getting lost in the rain for two hours in Bowertown. The flat, not so terrible, beauty of Ohio. Missing visiting friends in Akron. Making calls and catching up on time in Indi. Visiting Don and expanding in Chicago. (Don is a friend I met through my roommate this winter in Copper, Colorado! Another crazy event that followed through...Don fished in Alaska for the summer, after his time in the mountains...giving me new ideas for the future :))...anyways! Riding and exploring Madison, WI with family (Jacob, Anne, Little William, and Jane Morrison). Bike trails through the North East. Great sunsets and long days of riding through Iowa and South Dakota. Saying so long to our angel in the drivers seat. The teams moma went home after a 3 week adventure, leaving Elijah and I to switch between our bike seat and the drivers seat. (Let me tell you....the driving was harder than the riding)...I want to thank MaryJane for being with us. Her presence helped protect and grow us.
The challenges. Decision making. Team work. Following. Expanded as we hit South Dakota, Wyoming, Colorado. Racing down the Vail pass with the wet, cold moisture cleaning our faces might have been one of the best times I spent with the girls :)
Untouched territory for all of us. The unknown waited.
My appreciation and respect for Elijah grew and grew. To watch him work. With others. With us. With himself. With God... I am honored I got to witness it. Jessie and Jamie were like the younger sisters I never had. My accountability shifted...and although I could have done better each day, the three of us grew closer. We still talk often, thankfully...I feel loved and useful. They continue to expand my knowledge and accountability. I am so glad they were brave enough to take on such a challenge. Both girls are so strong to begin with, this expedition has done more for them than I think any of us will ever comprehend. Most importantly, they have much more room to grow, and expand now, with this under their belt I suppose.
My wreckless, less organized, spontaneous, rough, ideas and Elijah's, more organized, responisble, spontaneous, timely plans didn't quite climb gracefully with each other...non-the-less... they climbed together. We all climbed together. Each day.
Changing our sleeping pattern in Utah, to avoid the dead, heat of the day. Hot desert. Burning fuses. Missing the comfort of our panniers. So over the stupid van. Missing family. Missing home. Ready for the future.
Relief hit at the coast. Breaking waves and ocean mist. The salt water washed our spirits. Night riding between the quiet pilars of the Golden Gate. Visiting our friends in Santa Cruz (Ben and Jonelle). Heading down the coast to our end destination of Newport Beach. There we stayed with some very blessed and brilliant people. Elijah and Victor stayed with Brandy, also known as the candy lady during the expedition 2013. The perfect place to end a trip of this sort. A huge, comfortable home. With great people and even better conversation. It was a bitter-sweet...it was over. Again. How would I feel this year...? Knowing the toll of what "the end" did to me last year...I still had work to do however. I had to find my way back up the coast to Santa Cruz. Solo.
After a couple days of decompressing in Newport, the Smith's were off to Georgia. As sad as it was to leave, there was much more excitment for each of us in the very near future.
*it's a pretty vague over view of such an intense trip..if you have specific questions about the trip...anything your curiousity is burning to know, please ask...it also helps me to think about specifics...to dig deeper into the experience.
Thanks :)
Cheers!
Thursday, September 11, 2014
Monday, May 5, 2014
The Chapter of Summer 2014
I haven't had too much inspiration for writing lately...seems like the only time I can really think is when my job is to ride my bike weeks and months at a time. Maybe one day I will find something else to keep my mind stimulated...I guess that is what school is for, eh?
Winter working in the Rockies was all I could have asked for. It was a lot like what I imagine college to be like, without all the studying. I did learn how to snowboard and dip caramel apples. My patients was tested working at a chocolate factory, serving small children and adults who could not seem to contain themselves. It is funny what happens to adults when they go on vacation...but that is a whole other story...
I am currently, home, in Flower Mound for a couple of weeks. Working full time to save up enough for the next ride. Visiting friends going to college in the general area, and family. Each time I come back to this sweet place, I loath it a little less. A new respect for this place and the people in it have entered my heart. I am grateful for that.
I am beginning the ride in Pennsylvania, with a former riding groupie from last year. Along with him are his two sisters and a friend from their church. I am excited to get back on the open road, where my thoughts and ideas can wonder. The place my head can clear with each passing moment while the scenery continues to unfold before me.
I am not quite sure what happens when the ride ends, besides the fact that I will be mostly broke, just south of Los Angeles. I have been playing with the idea of finding a farm through WWOOFing. They generally tend to house the people that work for them...I figure it would be a useful growth of knowledge to attain, and I figure it is a good excuse to get my hands in the earth. Though it doesn't pay much, I will eat fresh, organic food and if my dreams come true, will be close to the salty shore. I haven't come up with a plan B yet...
Sometimes, I think of getting a small little place for myself. Somewhere close to the ocean. Maybe I would invest in a car, so I could drive to school. I would be biking distance from the spa I work at, doing massage and make up. It would be close enough to the beach to feel the breeze blowing in through the open windows. I could have some nice girly clothes to wear on my days off. Living a comfortable life, going to school, and working. Making something of myself in the eyes of another world. Then I wonder, "If I do commit to this lifestyle, will I ever be able to detach again to wander the globe, with nothing but a backpack?"
I guess we will see what happens when I arrive in California in August...!
Winter working in the Rockies was all I could have asked for. It was a lot like what I imagine college to be like, without all the studying. I did learn how to snowboard and dip caramel apples. My patients was tested working at a chocolate factory, serving small children and adults who could not seem to contain themselves. It is funny what happens to adults when they go on vacation...but that is a whole other story...
I am currently, home, in Flower Mound for a couple of weeks. Working full time to save up enough for the next ride. Visiting friends going to college in the general area, and family. Each time I come back to this sweet place, I loath it a little less. A new respect for this place and the people in it have entered my heart. I am grateful for that.
I am beginning the ride in Pennsylvania, with a former riding groupie from last year. Along with him are his two sisters and a friend from their church. I am excited to get back on the open road, where my thoughts and ideas can wonder. The place my head can clear with each passing moment while the scenery continues to unfold before me.
I am not quite sure what happens when the ride ends, besides the fact that I will be mostly broke, just south of Los Angeles. I have been playing with the idea of finding a farm through WWOOFing. They generally tend to house the people that work for them...I figure it would be a useful growth of knowledge to attain, and I figure it is a good excuse to get my hands in the earth. Though it doesn't pay much, I will eat fresh, organic food and if my dreams come true, will be close to the salty shore. I haven't come up with a plan B yet...
Sometimes, I think of getting a small little place for myself. Somewhere close to the ocean. Maybe I would invest in a car, so I could drive to school. I would be biking distance from the spa I work at, doing massage and make up. It would be close enough to the beach to feel the breeze blowing in through the open windows. I could have some nice girly clothes to wear on my days off. Living a comfortable life, going to school, and working. Making something of myself in the eyes of another world. Then I wonder, "If I do commit to this lifestyle, will I ever be able to detach again to wander the globe, with nothing but a backpack?"
I guess we will see what happens when I arrive in California in August...!
Thursday, December 5, 2013
Magic is Real
This time last year, I was preparing for the biggest adventure I have ever agreed to.
On Thanksgiving morning, I woke up in the old, creaky wooden bed in my grandfather’s house in Nashville. Mind you, it had become a routine occurrence to wake restlessly, feeling unfulfilled, for the last couple months.
It's not that I was unhappy with the life I had created in Austin. It was the music capital of the world. I worked alongside a great bunch of excellent massage therapists that made me feel very welcome.
Creating a new chapter from scratch was all very magical; I sold my car to invest in a scooter, a bicycle, one month’s rent, and the chance at a job interview in the heart of Texas. After running around Dallas for a couple weeks getting ready for the move, I was finally unloading the U-Haul, with the help of my two free-flowing traveler (hippie) friends. I remember, my first night after unloading, we drove the U-Haul downtown and parked it off of Lamar and 7th Street beside an abandoned building covered with faces and quotes from Jimi, Jim, and Martin Luther King Jr. The three of us just started walking, with Heidi (Matt's beautiful mountain dog). We decided to grab a couple beers and explore the town. We strolled up 6th, listening to music and meeting people. The drunken college folk, the crazy homeless people, the normal homeless people, the older parents who acted just as childish as the college folk - it was a playground. The three of us seemed to connect the most with the homeless folk. We grabbed more beers and smoked a joint with a talkative black man that liked Heidi and seemed to know the area rather well. He was friendly, yet questionable. We went down to a creek area closer to Highway 35, and Heidi played in the water while we entertained ourselves with some sort of makeshift drinking game. Finally, we made our way back to my new apartment. Everything was so new and exciting. There was so much to explore.
After about eight months, the magic seemed to be almost gone. The days seemed to get more and more predictable. I helped relieve the pain of others, met new people, and worked in a laid back, cool environment. I had found the spots I liked downtown to go dancing and have drinks by now. I met lots of people. I had friends visit me and showed them around. It was going so well, really. But inside I was dying, or that’s what it felt like. I couldn't really believe that this chapter would last much longer; I needed to get out. I needed a "real" adventure.
My good friend, and teacher of sorts, at work sensed my agony of redundancy. In early October, she was surfing the web and stumbled across an adventure opportunity I might get a kick out of. I didn't look at it for weeks. Why would I? Why wouldn’t I? I don't really know. Laziness? Fear? Disappointment?
For some reason, when I woke with the pain of conformity that quiet night in Nashville, the link my friend sent came to the forefront of my racing thoughts. Everything else seemed to fade out ever so slightly as I curiously searched for that link. After reading the short description of this adventure, of this non-profit bicycle trip around the country, I was filled with hope and certainty. If I remember correctly, tears of joy came from nowhere. I had asked the greater good, everyday it seemed, "What do I do about this need for freedom?" Finally, here was my answer! What were the odds? Was this too good to be true? Was I too late? Overflowing with gratefulness, I started to double-check the ad for error. Eventually delving deeper and finding my way to the non-profit’s webpage (www.theyp.org), I emailed the leader of the expedition (who had posted the ad) immediately. Here was my answer. I had finally found the scissors with which I could cut the ties to my ordinary life - the same ties that had slowly began to sever weeks ago. Little did I know, 1 year, 7,000 miles, and 8 strangers later, I was informed that I had opened the doors of the wardrobe.
On Thanksgiving morning, I woke up in the old, creaky wooden bed in my grandfather’s house in Nashville. Mind you, it had become a routine occurrence to wake restlessly, feeling unfulfilled, for the last couple months.
It's not that I was unhappy with the life I had created in Austin. It was the music capital of the world. I worked alongside a great bunch of excellent massage therapists that made me feel very welcome.
Creating a new chapter from scratch was all very magical; I sold my car to invest in a scooter, a bicycle, one month’s rent, and the chance at a job interview in the heart of Texas. After running around Dallas for a couple weeks getting ready for the move, I was finally unloading the U-Haul, with the help of my two free-flowing traveler (hippie) friends. I remember, my first night after unloading, we drove the U-Haul downtown and parked it off of Lamar and 7th Street beside an abandoned building covered with faces and quotes from Jimi, Jim, and Martin Luther King Jr. The three of us just started walking, with Heidi (Matt's beautiful mountain dog). We decided to grab a couple beers and explore the town. We strolled up 6th, listening to music and meeting people. The drunken college folk, the crazy homeless people, the normal homeless people, the older parents who acted just as childish as the college folk - it was a playground. The three of us seemed to connect the most with the homeless folk. We grabbed more beers and smoked a joint with a talkative black man that liked Heidi and seemed to know the area rather well. He was friendly, yet questionable. We went down to a creek area closer to Highway 35, and Heidi played in the water while we entertained ourselves with some sort of makeshift drinking game. Finally, we made our way back to my new apartment. Everything was so new and exciting. There was so much to explore.
After about eight months, the magic seemed to be almost gone. The days seemed to get more and more predictable. I helped relieve the pain of others, met new people, and worked in a laid back, cool environment. I had found the spots I liked downtown to go dancing and have drinks by now. I met lots of people. I had friends visit me and showed them around. It was going so well, really. But inside I was dying, or that’s what it felt like. I couldn't really believe that this chapter would last much longer; I needed to get out. I needed a "real" adventure.
My good friend, and teacher of sorts, at work sensed my agony of redundancy. In early October, she was surfing the web and stumbled across an adventure opportunity I might get a kick out of. I didn't look at it for weeks. Why would I? Why wouldn’t I? I don't really know. Laziness? Fear? Disappointment?
For some reason, when I woke with the pain of conformity that quiet night in Nashville, the link my friend sent came to the forefront of my racing thoughts. Everything else seemed to fade out ever so slightly as I curiously searched for that link. After reading the short description of this adventure, of this non-profit bicycle trip around the country, I was filled with hope and certainty. If I remember correctly, tears of joy came from nowhere. I had asked the greater good, everyday it seemed, "What do I do about this need for freedom?" Finally, here was my answer! What were the odds? Was this too good to be true? Was I too late? Overflowing with gratefulness, I started to double-check the ad for error. Eventually delving deeper and finding my way to the non-profit’s webpage (www.theyp.org), I emailed the leader of the expedition (who had posted the ad) immediately. Here was my answer. I had finally found the scissors with which I could cut the ties to my ordinary life - the same ties that had slowly began to sever weeks ago. Little did I know, 1 year, 7,000 miles, and 8 strangers later, I was informed that I had opened the doors of the wardrobe.
Sunday, November 24, 2013
Tulia to Amarillo
I knew the day was going to be nothing short of great when I road off with the sound of the high school band playing "Shake That".
It was another windy day of quiet riding. Around 1:00 PM I reached a cross roads. I had time to make it to Palo Duro and walk around for a bit before I went ahead to Amarillo. I was tired, but you can't say no to such a chance. So I started riding toward the Canyon.
It was a flat ride, but again my drive was running low. When I got to the Welcome center in the park it was about 2:30...I was tired, and pretty lonely, again. Thinking this is one of those moments you wish you had a buddy. A partner in crime. Or something like that.
After I sat, looking into the depth of empty beauty for some time, I got a text message from an unknown number. Wondering if I wanted a ride to Colorado. (I had posted an add on rideshare via Craigslist, to see what would pop up). I was just about ready to take it. I told the guy I was interested, but it would probably take me about 3 hours to get back out to the highway. ( I wasn't quite done marveling and there would be quite a hefty head wind coming my way)... in the end, the ride didn't pan out... and I am better for it.
I entered the welcome center to relieve myself before heading out... little did I know I would meet my next inspiration...
Miss Doss, the Welcomer of the Welcome Center greeted me with cheer. She was so excited to see me...she said "Oh! you are the girl who I saw riding her bike on the side of the road on my way to work today!" .. I couldn't help but smile and laugh.
She continued to tell me she and her husband, now passed, used to ride through the canyon, 19 miles, one way, every Saturday. The way she said it, with such pride...
She offered me snacks, coffee, and water. Then for my autograph...again I laughed.
She gave me the strength and encouragement to get to Amarillo, despite that damn wind.
I texted the Mabry daughters, Lindy and Lexie, I was on my way...
I hit some unexpected hills and crevices from the canyon, once I turned on Washington St. Luckily, I had the wind at my back at this point.
Under the highway I road, with no sidewalks to be found.
Then to hang a left onto some smelly industrial tracks...
Making my way towards some unexpected, trafficless, gravel road.
The sun was down at this point and again I was at another busy road with no sidewalk relief...I wasn't feeling quite as trusting at this point. Only 3 mile stretch of three lanes of traffic barreling toward downtown.
I decided it was best to give Lindy a call for some help.
She retrieved me and my bike from the gas station.
It was another windy day of quiet riding. Around 1:00 PM I reached a cross roads. I had time to make it to Palo Duro and walk around for a bit before I went ahead to Amarillo. I was tired, but you can't say no to such a chance. So I started riding toward the Canyon.
It was a flat ride, but again my drive was running low. When I got to the Welcome center in the park it was about 2:30...I was tired, and pretty lonely, again. Thinking this is one of those moments you wish you had a buddy. A partner in crime. Or something like that.
After I sat, looking into the depth of empty beauty for some time, I got a text message from an unknown number. Wondering if I wanted a ride to Colorado. (I had posted an add on rideshare via Craigslist, to see what would pop up). I was just about ready to take it. I told the guy I was interested, but it would probably take me about 3 hours to get back out to the highway. ( I wasn't quite done marveling and there would be quite a hefty head wind coming my way)... in the end, the ride didn't pan out... and I am better for it.
I entered the welcome center to relieve myself before heading out... little did I know I would meet my next inspiration...
Miss Doss, the Welcomer of the Welcome Center greeted me with cheer. She was so excited to see me...she said "Oh! you are the girl who I saw riding her bike on the side of the road on my way to work today!" .. I couldn't help but smile and laugh.
She continued to tell me she and her husband, now passed, used to ride through the canyon, 19 miles, one way, every Saturday. The way she said it, with such pride...
She offered me snacks, coffee, and water. Then for my autograph...again I laughed.
She gave me the strength and encouragement to get to Amarillo, despite that damn wind.
I texted the Mabry daughters, Lindy and Lexie, I was on my way...
I hit some unexpected hills and crevices from the canyon, once I turned on Washington St. Luckily, I had the wind at my back at this point.
Under the highway I road, with no sidewalks to be found.
Then to hang a left onto some smelly industrial tracks...
Making my way towards some unexpected, trafficless, gravel road.
The sun was down at this point and again I was at another busy road with no sidewalk relief...I wasn't feeling quite as trusting at this point. Only 3 mile stretch of three lanes of traffic barreling toward downtown.
I decided it was best to give Lindy a call for some help.
She retrieved me and my bike from the gas station.
Lubbock to Tulia
I started pedaling toward Amarillo early on Thursday morning. I didn't have much of anything... no plan. no drive. no clue... All I had was the faith that everything was going to be alright. It was pretty chilly. The clouds had cold front written all over them. I didn't think I would make it more than 30 miles, purely for the lack of interest. Luckily, Jammye, from the Pitchfork Ranch, in Guthrie, saved the day, yet again... She put me in touch with a relative in Tulia, about 73 miles away. The clouds began to part and my spirit brightened. It was a long, yet enjoyable, successful day of riding.
I stopped at a gas station on the North side of Plainview. I grabbed some lunch and stepped back outside for a rest. A friendly truck driver honked at me in the middle of my lunch and gave me two thumbs up. Before I got back on the road I went to say hello. Edgar, the truck driver, was from, what was once known as, Yugoslavia. He came over to the states as a refuge years ago. Now, looking back on that conversation, I wish I would have known more about the war to ask him how he feels about his home separating as it did. How it feels to never be able to return to a home he grew and experienced life in. The loss of something that will never be the same... Lots of us are able to return to that familiar place. And for most it is a comfortable, enjoyable time...regardless of how dysfunctional it seems on the outside looking in. He seems happy with his home in Florida and his job traveling...people adapt and move forward. That is all we can do to survive.
Edgar was curious about what I was doing, where I was going, and why, for heavens sake, on a bicycle... Many of the same questions I get a couple times a day. I gladly explained, I get to meet fine folks as himself, and learn more about the world around me, cheaper than any other way. He was very nice and worried for my safety. He offered me a ride over to Nashville, where my other sister, Amanda, lives... it was very tempting, but after a few moments of thought, I felt I should continue on to my original destination. I thanked him, and happily made my way to Tulia.
I reached the Mabry household around 5, just as the sun was setting. They were so welcoming, as the Timmons were. That evening we went to one of their younger sons band practice in town. It was a small community, and a small school. It was cozy. It took me back to hear the band play... to see all the kids squirming and laughing in their chairs. It was short, but sweet.
We returned to the house to eat the delicious spaghetti from Chef Mama Mabry. Afterwards Delynn (Mama M) told me a little about her upbringing and her current love for the work she does in testing and placing children with disabilities. I find it fascinating and encouraging to see the strength in people that grew up with little and created so much, and then dedicate it all to God...
I had about 50-60 miles ahead of me the next morning. Little did I know I wasn't saying goodbye to the Mabrys for good. I was on my way to Amarillo to meet the older Mabry daughters, Lindy and Leslie.
I stopped at a gas station on the North side of Plainview. I grabbed some lunch and stepped back outside for a rest. A friendly truck driver honked at me in the middle of my lunch and gave me two thumbs up. Before I got back on the road I went to say hello. Edgar, the truck driver, was from, what was once known as, Yugoslavia. He came over to the states as a refuge years ago. Now, looking back on that conversation, I wish I would have known more about the war to ask him how he feels about his home separating as it did. How it feels to never be able to return to a home he grew and experienced life in. The loss of something that will never be the same... Lots of us are able to return to that familiar place. And for most it is a comfortable, enjoyable time...regardless of how dysfunctional it seems on the outside looking in. He seems happy with his home in Florida and his job traveling...people adapt and move forward. That is all we can do to survive.
Edgar was curious about what I was doing, where I was going, and why, for heavens sake, on a bicycle... Many of the same questions I get a couple times a day. I gladly explained, I get to meet fine folks as himself, and learn more about the world around me, cheaper than any other way. He was very nice and worried for my safety. He offered me a ride over to Nashville, where my other sister, Amanda, lives... it was very tempting, but after a few moments of thought, I felt I should continue on to my original destination. I thanked him, and happily made my way to Tulia.
I reached the Mabry household around 5, just as the sun was setting. They were so welcoming, as the Timmons were. That evening we went to one of their younger sons band practice in town. It was a small community, and a small school. It was cozy. It took me back to hear the band play... to see all the kids squirming and laughing in their chairs. It was short, but sweet.
We returned to the house to eat the delicious spaghetti from Chef Mama Mabry. Afterwards Delynn (Mama M) told me a little about her upbringing and her current love for the work she does in testing and placing children with disabilities. I find it fascinating and encouraging to see the strength in people that grew up with little and created so much, and then dedicate it all to God...
I had about 50-60 miles ahead of me the next morning. Little did I know I wasn't saying goodbye to the Mabrys for good. I was on my way to Amarillo to meet the older Mabry daughters, Lindy and Leslie.
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
One Month and 3 Days Later..
A couple of days ago, I found myself asking again, am I being useful..? Questioning my purpose every hour of the day... always returning to a deep sense of waste. This past weekend I followed my friend, Travis, meeting his family. The Schattle family was very kind and welcoming. Travis and I drank most of Friday and Saturday. He had told most of his family about my travels, on a bike. His father, who was a cyclist himself, was quite impressed, and mentioned he would love to do something like I had. These positive comments of admiration helped my self-esteem... but now that I was "quitting" this second adventure I had started, so easily...without putting up a fight...I felt like I was doing an injustice, to myself, and the others who support and follow me.
Monday night, I found myself looking for something to watch... Something to shut off the thoughts that had been running all weekend. I found a movie I had seen before, but hadn't really paid much attention to the first time around. 180 Degrees South. After watching this film, and thinking about the conversations I have had with people in the past week(s), I knew I needed to get back on the road..soon. Not because I miss it. Not because I am uncomfortable with my current situation... but because I can't quit. I haven't given the struggle a chance, really. The adventure lives in the continued journey. Up to this point, making it to Lubbock...I have had a safety net of sorts. With this next state the adventure is about to enter...that safety net will be in a position to expand.
I know I will probably have to get a ride at some point, as I have in the past, I don't see that as quitting though. In my mind, that is part of what this is all about.. meeting other people. Allowing our lives to merge... to allow growth and understanding.
At some point in the past month, I had lost the energy of living day to day, alone. I wanted to just be comfortable. fed. warm. in good company. in a car. with friends. having a good time. I am still really enjoying the company, and the couch... but, when I go back to the question of purpose... adventure is the answer... some day, I would love to guide adventures in the great outdoors... in between my time enjoying laughs with friends and family in the comforts of a large, warm home. I can't quit on myself now...not while I can still keep on. The adventure is about the day to day... the unknown and how you deal with it. When you start to let anticipation eat you away, the adventure becomes a chore.
"It is not about getting there, it is about how you got there"
I strongly encourage you watch 180 Degrees South (Netfilx)
here is the trailer...
http://www.180south.com/trailer.html
So here is to the day to day. Striving on. Purpose and growth.
Monday night, I found myself looking for something to watch... Something to shut off the thoughts that had been running all weekend. I found a movie I had seen before, but hadn't really paid much attention to the first time around. 180 Degrees South. After watching this film, and thinking about the conversations I have had with people in the past week(s), I knew I needed to get back on the road..soon. Not because I miss it. Not because I am uncomfortable with my current situation... but because I can't quit. I haven't given the struggle a chance, really. The adventure lives in the continued journey. Up to this point, making it to Lubbock...I have had a safety net of sorts. With this next state the adventure is about to enter...that safety net will be in a position to expand.
I know I will probably have to get a ride at some point, as I have in the past, I don't see that as quitting though. In my mind, that is part of what this is all about.. meeting other people. Allowing our lives to merge... to allow growth and understanding.
At some point in the past month, I had lost the energy of living day to day, alone. I wanted to just be comfortable. fed. warm. in good company. in a car. with friends. having a good time. I am still really enjoying the company, and the couch... but, when I go back to the question of purpose... adventure is the answer... some day, I would love to guide adventures in the great outdoors... in between my time enjoying laughs with friends and family in the comforts of a large, warm home. I can't quit on myself now...not while I can still keep on. The adventure is about the day to day... the unknown and how you deal with it. When you start to let anticipation eat you away, the adventure becomes a chore.
"It is not about getting there, it is about how you got there"
I strongly encourage you watch 180 Degrees South (Netfilx)
here is the trailer...
http://www.180south.com/trailer.html
So here is to the day to day. Striving on. Purpose and growth.
Friday, November 8, 2013
The first stop.
I have made it. My first stop. I've hit my limit on solo-miles, for now. The desire to keep my butt on the bicycle is gone. The winter days are short, leaving me cold and disappointed in the progress. I decided after 50 miles of county roads to Plainview yesterday, that I was ready for my first extended break to begin. For the next two weeks I'll be staying at my buddies house here in Lubbock. Helping out as I can. Pick up some volunteer projects. Enjoying game days with friends. Hanging out with the new friends I made back in Guthrie. Around thanksgiving I am hoping to hitch a ride with Kelsey and Clint to Denver.
Earlier this week I felt bad about quitting... especially after a few conflicting, yet encouraging, conversations with some friends. I was worried about letting people down... but as more time passes between myself and the first bicycle ride, I start to create my own path again... holding on to the confidence and trust I gained. Leaving behind the expectation of pedaling every mile. Encouraging the dance with the unknown flow.
Maybe there was enough fear instilled in me to stop.. but once I stopped, and I got over myself.. I started to think of the other things I want to do in life... rock climbing, bass jumping, surf, climb a mountain, explore the world. To think of all the stories I still get to hear. It reminds me that this is just a chance for an extended stay to visit and connect with friends.
My rough outline is to make it to Colorado, find a part or full time job at a ski resort. Learn that culture, learn how to snowboard. Meet new people. Have a good time. Figure out where I want to go when the weather warms up. Maybe international. We shall see.
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Keep it Together
I had written some of this stuff a few weeks ago...kind of venting. grieving.
So I hope you find something out of if. It's mostly just gibberish.
The sad thing is I don't even really know if I feel as if I lost love. I did, but long before I realized it... At some point there was no love left to lose. At some point it was just about going through the motions. Maybe. Maybe, we skipped the chance on creating a wonderful friendship. I feel like I kind of destroyed it before it even started.
Maybe it was half a year, sitting with some of the uglier sides of myself. Looking at them. Accepting them, sometimes. Trying to take my faults down a different road than I had taken them before... I tried to beautify them. Hide them. Handle them. As most of us do.
Everyday is a little different now. Most days, I still wonder if he has a, new found, dead spot inside. Maybe the same place I have one. It doesn't matter. Not one bit. It is definitely not progressive in the least.
You can live quite excellently when you allow the unknown to flow through your life with ease.
...
I have been talking to a close friend from the first ride for the past two evenings now... after we talk I feel like things are going to be okay again. I am grateful to have another person there that understands. Feels the loss and can talk about it. I don't know what I would do without her...or any of the other riders for that matter.
Being on this ride, by myself. Being in the present moment, alone, has helped me not think about what I had before. It helps me not miss what was, but appreciate what is and get excited for what is to come.
There is, however, still something inside of me that feels like I can't filter what has happened. I can't see the bigger picture yet. The significants of the last trip is still foggy sometimes. I don't feel like I will ever go back to who I was. I sort of lost myself for 5 months...and I am just now realizing, it is going to take time to find myself again. I am still swirling in the whirl pool of past events...I can feel the current slowing down though...The confusion that came from the dive is coming to a calmer place, closer to shore.
I am ready for Colorado. New beginnings. New adventures. New people. New question marks.
So I hope you find something out of if. It's mostly just gibberish.
The sad thing is I don't even really know if I feel as if I lost love. I did, but long before I realized it... At some point there was no love left to lose. At some point it was just about going through the motions. Maybe. Maybe, we skipped the chance on creating a wonderful friendship. I feel like I kind of destroyed it before it even started.
Maybe it was half a year, sitting with some of the uglier sides of myself. Looking at them. Accepting them, sometimes. Trying to take my faults down a different road than I had taken them before... I tried to beautify them. Hide them. Handle them. As most of us do.
Everyday is a little different now. Most days, I still wonder if he has a, new found, dead spot inside. Maybe the same place I have one. It doesn't matter. Not one bit. It is definitely not progressive in the least.
You can live quite excellently when you allow the unknown to flow through your life with ease.
...
I have been talking to a close friend from the first ride for the past two evenings now... after we talk I feel like things are going to be okay again. I am grateful to have another person there that understands. Feels the loss and can talk about it. I don't know what I would do without her...or any of the other riders for that matter.
Being on this ride, by myself. Being in the present moment, alone, has helped me not think about what I had before. It helps me not miss what was, but appreciate what is and get excited for what is to come.
There is, however, still something inside of me that feels like I can't filter what has happened. I can't see the bigger picture yet. The significants of the last trip is still foggy sometimes. I don't feel like I will ever go back to who I was. I sort of lost myself for 5 months...and I am just now realizing, it is going to take time to find myself again. I am still swirling in the whirl pool of past events...I can feel the current slowing down though...The confusion that came from the dive is coming to a calmer place, closer to shore.
I am ready for Colorado. New beginnings. New adventures. New people. New question marks.
Thanks
Lubbock... home of some top-dog tailgating professionals. After an eventful weekend, I have managed to find stillness on my buddies old country porch. Beauty, in the simplest kind of way. The past few days have consisted of grilling some grade A barbecue and cracking beer after beer with some new characters.
Lubbock is a beautiful place to rest...between the chugaroo cook outs and Broadway Shuffle.
It has been two weeks now since I got to my buddies house in Lubbock... Part of me was indifferent about not keeping to my (original) schedule, most of last week.
Now, sitting here... a handful of car rides in the country... two tours around two respectable ranches, with two legendary cowboys... one, 6 man, junior high football game... A beautiful wedding...a town of tailgating... Laughter. Strangers. Friends. Growth. Confusion. Dancing... I am glad my better half convinced me to chill out and spend some time exploring North West Texas. The part of me that knows, I'll have all the time I need to get where ever I am going. This part that encourages the chances that are given to experience different walks of life... the spur of the moment inclination (pun intended)... to stop, and maybe even back track... to soak it in....soak it all in. Be there. Make a choice, and move in that choice. Fearlessly. Being open to help from others.
Thank you for all the help.
To my friends here in Lubbock and Guthrie.
Safe travels.
Lubbock is a beautiful place to rest...between the chugaroo cook outs and Broadway Shuffle.
It has been two weeks now since I got to my buddies house in Lubbock... Part of me was indifferent about not keeping to my (original) schedule, most of last week.
Now, sitting here... a handful of car rides in the country... two tours around two respectable ranches, with two legendary cowboys... one, 6 man, junior high football game... A beautiful wedding...a town of tailgating... Laughter. Strangers. Friends. Growth. Confusion. Dancing... I am glad my better half convinced me to chill out and spend some time exploring North West Texas. The part of me that knows, I'll have all the time I need to get where ever I am going. This part that encourages the chances that are given to experience different walks of life... the spur of the moment inclination (pun intended)... to stop, and maybe even back track... to soak it in....soak it all in. Be there. Make a choice, and move in that choice. Fearlessly. Being open to help from others.
Thank you for all the help.
To my friends here in Lubbock and Guthrie.
Safe travels.
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
Boots and the 6's
Thursday morning.
Jaymme and I started toward the courthouse. The wind had picked up this morning. It was plenty cold.
I began to meet some of the office folk. Everyone was really friendly. It was a neat experience. I had never worked in an office before, but it was everything and more from what I have seen on television... the 9-5, occasional visit from a co-worker/friend, eating lunch together discussing the latest and greatest, etc.
I heard a set of spurs coming down the hallway. Not as loud and brisk as Ross's spurs were. These were a bit more gentle. casual sounding. It must have been Boots, my next tour guide. Boots O'Neal... he is a true legend, just like Ross. The National Cowboy & Western Heritage Museum, in Oklahoma City recognized Boots with the Chester A. Reynolds Award in April. Amongst other things, this award honors the strong commitment of individuals and groups that live by the connected ideals and hard work of ranchers and cowboys. "Dedicated to or promotion of the ideals of, honesty, humility and integrity that are closely identified with the American West".
One of the first things I had noticed about Boots was his humble smile and his clear, blue eyes. He took me around the town, explaining it's affiliation with the 6's ranch. Most everyone living in the town, worked at the ranch, or the school. He took me to the headquarters. The main house was beautiful. Three stories of earths grand stone. I was impressed to learn the ranch had been passed down to women in the Burnett family since 1900.
After taking a peak inside the supply house/convenient store, the rodeo ring and ranch housing, we I was honored to be invited into the headquarters main house. The woman, Louise, who had brought me supper the night I met Jammye, was working in the office there. It was a great surprise to see her again. She invited me to have dinner with them at the house. Of course I accepted... all the food I have had in these cookhouses have been nothing but hardy, homemade, heaven. After a small gander around the beautiful mansion, and meeting the people that make the ranch function, we headed over to the horse barn. He took me to another cookhouse, for the people that work with horses specifically. It also smelled delicious and had a pleasant feel of security. The women exuded happiness. After making some coffee and enjoying the all around jolliness, we headed back outside to walk around the barn, towards the clinic. It was a lot to take in, but well maintained, clean, and organized. Boots was having a ball telling people we encountered around the ranch about my story, of riding a bike for the past year. He is a simple, hard working man... just like Ross... in yet they seem to be quite different people... in fact almost opposite in a way... although, they have been buddies for about 30 years now.
After walking through and watching how the ranch is run so smoothly, he showed me how Anne (the owner of the 6's) takes such good care of her loyal staff. He told me about his wife, who passed, now, 7 years ago. Of course I started to tear up listening to him about her... his love is still there 7 years later. The love for his duties keeps him going. You can tell, he still has a passion for riding and roping. He thrives with the people around him. He is a steady and balanced man. I feel very fortunate to have crossed paths with him and honored I was able to visit with him for a few hours.
Jaymme and I started toward the courthouse. The wind had picked up this morning. It was plenty cold.
I began to meet some of the office folk. Everyone was really friendly. It was a neat experience. I had never worked in an office before, but it was everything and more from what I have seen on television... the 9-5, occasional visit from a co-worker/friend, eating lunch together discussing the latest and greatest, etc.
I heard a set of spurs coming down the hallway. Not as loud and brisk as Ross's spurs were. These were a bit more gentle. casual sounding. It must have been Boots, my next tour guide. Boots O'Neal... he is a true legend, just like Ross. The National Cowboy & Western Heritage Museum, in Oklahoma City recognized Boots with the Chester A. Reynolds Award in April. Amongst other things, this award honors the strong commitment of individuals and groups that live by the connected ideals and hard work of ranchers and cowboys. "Dedicated to or promotion of the ideals of, honesty, humility and integrity that are closely identified with the American West".
One of the first things I had noticed about Boots was his humble smile and his clear, blue eyes. He took me around the town, explaining it's affiliation with the 6's ranch. Most everyone living in the town, worked at the ranch, or the school. He took me to the headquarters. The main house was beautiful. Three stories of earths grand stone. I was impressed to learn the ranch had been passed down to women in the Burnett family since 1900.
After taking a peak inside the supply house/convenient store, the rodeo ring and ranch housing, we I was honored to be invited into the headquarters main house. The woman, Louise, who had brought me supper the night I met Jammye, was working in the office there. It was a great surprise to see her again. She invited me to have dinner with them at the house. Of course I accepted... all the food I have had in these cookhouses have been nothing but hardy, homemade, heaven. After a small gander around the beautiful mansion, and meeting the people that make the ranch function, we headed over to the horse barn. He took me to another cookhouse, for the people that work with horses specifically. It also smelled delicious and had a pleasant feel of security. The women exuded happiness. After making some coffee and enjoying the all around jolliness, we headed back outside to walk around the barn, towards the clinic. It was a lot to take in, but well maintained, clean, and organized. Boots was having a ball telling people we encountered around the ranch about my story, of riding a bike for the past year. He is a simple, hard working man... just like Ross... in yet they seem to be quite different people... in fact almost opposite in a way... although, they have been buddies for about 30 years now.
After walking through and watching how the ranch is run so smoothly, he showed me how Anne (the owner of the 6's) takes such good care of her loyal staff. He told me about his wife, who passed, now, 7 years ago. Of course I started to tear up listening to him about her... his love is still there 7 years later. The love for his duties keeps him going. You can tell, he still has a passion for riding and roping. He thrives with the people around him. He is a steady and balanced man. I feel very fortunate to have crossed paths with him and honored I was able to visit with him for a few hours.
Driving
There is always plenty of time to talk in the country. Driving from one place the the next usually takes at least 15 minutes.
Day two, Wednesday, I went to work with Jammye, at the King County Court House. One of the few businesses in Guthrie, besides the post office, and Ranches. Around noon, Kelsey, Jammye's daughter, came to pick me up for the day. Kelsey, and her second daughter, Kendall, and I, went back to her mom's house. We made some lunch and packed some of her belongings in the car, to move to her new house, about 15 minutes away. While making lunch she wanted to hear more about my trip and why I was doing it. She told me she had read some of my blog posts and really enjoyed them. That warmed my heart :). We are the same age, so it was nice to have someone to relate to on that level. She told me how it was growing up in a small ranch town, in the middle of no where... having to drive up and down a 9 mile drive way every day. We talked about our struggles in relationships, parents, and understanding ourselves. I really respected her ability to keep swimming in the hard times she has had, and to thrive with family on and on. It seems like she has developed the habit of doing onto others how she deserves to be treated, rather well. Most everybody out here has... people really communicate and come together... From observation, she doesn't half ass life either. She has, through the small things I noticed, done them quickly and cleanly... maybe that is something you start to catch onto through motherhood.
After lunch, packing the car, and Kendall's nap... we headed back behind the house to find their dogs that had been roaming around, not to be seen, for 3 or 4 days. Jammye was a bit worried. The wild hogs had been coming pretty close to the house lately, and instinctively, the dogs would rally to chase them off...you never know what can happen when a hog is involved. We found them sitting on an old mattress in the yard behind the house, content as can be. Probably there to protect their people from coyotes and hogs.
After leading the dogs back to the house, and watching the cowboys practicing for their rodeo in Amarillo. We went to her new home, where I met her husband, Clint. Jammye came over an hour later, with Kelsey's first daughter, CJ. We made tacos for dinner and visited a bit more. It was nice to meet some new people with good stories, my age. I enjoyed hearing about their upbringings, discovering our similarities and differences.
Jammye and I missed bible study, but it was worth spending time with her family. We drove back through the dark abyss of cotton, and wheat. The wide open sky makes for the best sunsets and inspires calmness.
I could see this as a future lifestyle. Just gotta find me a cowboy.
Day two, Wednesday, I went to work with Jammye, at the King County Court House. One of the few businesses in Guthrie, besides the post office, and Ranches. Around noon, Kelsey, Jammye's daughter, came to pick me up for the day. Kelsey, and her second daughter, Kendall, and I, went back to her mom's house. We made some lunch and packed some of her belongings in the car, to move to her new house, about 15 minutes away. While making lunch she wanted to hear more about my trip and why I was doing it. She told me she had read some of my blog posts and really enjoyed them. That warmed my heart :). We are the same age, so it was nice to have someone to relate to on that level. She told me how it was growing up in a small ranch town, in the middle of no where... having to drive up and down a 9 mile drive way every day. We talked about our struggles in relationships, parents, and understanding ourselves. I really respected her ability to keep swimming in the hard times she has had, and to thrive with family on and on. It seems like she has developed the habit of doing onto others how she deserves to be treated, rather well. Most everybody out here has... people really communicate and come together... From observation, she doesn't half ass life either. She has, through the small things I noticed, done them quickly and cleanly... maybe that is something you start to catch onto through motherhood.
After lunch, packing the car, and Kendall's nap... we headed back behind the house to find their dogs that had been roaming around, not to be seen, for 3 or 4 days. Jammye was a bit worried. The wild hogs had been coming pretty close to the house lately, and instinctively, the dogs would rally to chase them off...you never know what can happen when a hog is involved. We found them sitting on an old mattress in the yard behind the house, content as can be. Probably there to protect their people from coyotes and hogs.
After leading the dogs back to the house, and watching the cowboys practicing for their rodeo in Amarillo. We went to her new home, where I met her husband, Clint. Jammye came over an hour later, with Kelsey's first daughter, CJ. We made tacos for dinner and visited a bit more. It was nice to meet some new people with good stories, my age. I enjoyed hearing about their upbringings, discovering our similarities and differences.
Jammye and I missed bible study, but it was worth spending time with her family. We drove back through the dark abyss of cotton, and wheat. The wide open sky makes for the best sunsets and inspires calmness.
I could see this as a future lifestyle. Just gotta find me a cowboy.
Brooks and Ross
I met Linda in the cookhouse. She was cleaning up from breakfast and preparing dinner.. (I love how they call lunch - dinner.. and dinner - supper, here)... I left her to go meet Brooks (The manager of Pitchfork). Managers usually run the show for 20-30 years. I was a bit nervous to interrupt busy cowboy business, but he was quite excited to meet with me and had plenty of questions for me, as I did for him. I explained the lack of consistency in my life in the past year. It blew him away. He was a great person to chat with. A really enthusiastic character, about life in general. We chatted for a couple of hours until Ross (the interesting fella that gave me a ride from Pitchfork the week before towards Lubbock) got back from running some morning errands. After explaining myself to Brooks, I asked him about how life on a ranch works...We talked about how agriculture works (basically). He explained how their Angus and Hereford cattle are raised naturally and hormone free. And although that is all good and well, he also explained how irrelevant that is to the rest of the processing industry (unfortunately)... It amazed me when he drew it out for me, that about less than 5% of the population is feeding at least 95% ... That just shows how hard these men out here work... to provide quality beef to 7.6 billion people 365 days out of the year. Through harsh elements. Rain or shine. The perks are quite ideal, in my eyes... a good, simple, tight knit community. Working outdoors. Riding horses in the country. Goofing off from time to time with your buddies. Sunrises and sunsets. The ultimate quietness of the windy flat plains. Brooks and I continued to discuss organic and commercial crops. Where they come from. The inevitable scale of "quality" vs. quantity. After a solid two hours, I met Amanda, Brook's wife, and son, Brooks Clay. The dinner bell (lunch) rang around 12... Linda, as always, had a feast waiting for about 12 hungry, hard working, men.
I had the pleasure of joining them... Tender brisket, potato casserole, biscuits, and baked beans... (nuff said). When the boys cleared their plates and started for the kitchen to get some dessert, Brook's Clay jokingly sprouted concern about the ice cream status... (After religiously eating with these fellas, the little guy knows good and well about their bulldozing appetite)... Luckily, it was a 5 gallon tub, so there was plenty left for his little self.
I know men aren't too fond of talking when they are eating, but you especially don't want to get in the way of a cowboy and his dinner ;) ... Luckily I got a few minutes to visit with some, but before I knew it, they were headed back out to finish up weaning calfs for the day, before dark. (I'll go back, one day, and next time I'll be ready to go out and wrangle with them.)
I know men aren't too fond of talking when they are eating, but you especially don't want to get in the way of a cowboy and his dinner ;) ... Luckily I got a few minutes to visit with some, but before I knew it, they were headed back out to finish up weaning calfs for the day, before dark. (I'll go back, one day, and next time I'll be ready to go out and wrangle with them.)
Next time you go grab some steaks, or ground beef, don't forget where it all starts.
After lunch (dinner), Ross rallied and we went to feed 5 different pastures he cares for day to day.
He told me a little about Pitchforks history. He had worked on Pitchfork land for about 26. For 15 of those years, when Pitchfork owned some land on a River, a ways from Headquarters, he would spend the winter, camping, in his teepee. The Geese would fly in and eat the cattle feed... Ross would sit, in the noises of nature, with the occasional gun shot, keeping the birds away from the feed... where he scored the name of "Goose Ranger" from the other cowboys. Now, Ross helps feed and move the horses, daily. While also watching out for illness and pregnancies in the pastures.
Ross is a ripe character... He is a wise fella with some great stories.
At one point I asked Ross, "what makes a good cowboy"?
He replied, "Dedication... Common sense... And knowing when to keep your mouth shut."
It made me smile to hear something my own grandfather would say.
Although, he is kind of a lone ranger, he still works, because he loves the job. He loves working with horses.
He told me he doesn't believe in a bad horse. Only in "an incompetent son of a buck who should take a good look in the mirror to find the problem..."
I sure will miss the lingo here in West Texas. It is quite something, and I think I am starting to get the hang of it.
After a long day, driving from pasture to pasture, learning about the history of the ranch's ups and downs, I was about ready to go have a nap. We finally headed back to headquarters so Ross could finish up his work day, wrangling the saddle horses. At the barn, I walked back to the cookhouse to wait for Jammye to pick me up... I grew to enjoy the distance from place to place. It made for a nice long conversation... That night I stayed at her home, where she lived with her husband, Clay (who I met at dinner earlier that day). They have been with Pitchfork for almost 21 years now, since 1994. They raised their daughter, Kelsey and son, Drew.
That evening I spent some time telling them about my story, and getting to know a little more about the Jammye and Clay. The family that took a chance on a me.
Friday, November 1, 2013
Back Tracking
Getting to Lubbock to see some old friends was refreshing. I was ready for a break from the quietness. I couldn't get Guthrie off my mind though. Something about running into Jammye had stuck with me for the next couple of days. I wanted to go back to feed this curiosity.
After meeting just 5 people from the small town, I was interested in meeting more. So after a full weekend of professional drinking, tailgating, and barbequing in Lubbock...come Monday, I was ready to head back toward the Pitchfork Ranch... to see what life was like on the range. To understand how people survive. Discovering their struggles. Learning about the land and the economy. Most of all spending time with more of these loving people that opened their hearts and homes to me, in the most unexpected place.
On my way back East, I was in a cloudy mood. I don't know if it was an overdose of football in the past 48 hours, or if it was the 5 minutes of Fox News I saw the night before...but I was feeling pretty down. I also had mixed feelings about back tracking... in the first bike ride, earlier in the year, we stuck to a schedule, pretty religious...mostly. So deciding to turn around, in the midst of changing seasons, was a pretty bold move, I guess. On the other hand, it is something I didn't have the time to do on the first trip. Something greater told me it would be worth my time.
I spent the night in Dickens on Monday night. To make the time go by, I chatted and charged my phone in the old jailhouse built in 1909. The woman working dispatch, Sherill told me a little about the jail's history. She told me a little about her life growing up as an only child, working on the farm with her father. She graduated with only a handful of kids in her class, and has been working law enforcement since then. She was kind enough to give me a small tour of the downstairs area, including the historical hanging gallow, inside the jail... (I would post pictures, but she kindly asked me not to, for security purposes...you will just have to come see for yourself!)
The jail was pretty spooky at night. Read a bit more about it here..
http://www.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~txdicken/jail.htm
Dickens jail makes for a few good, old fashion jail break stories in the wild wild west.
I left the jail after I rinsed off in the disturbingly cold natured shower, embeded in the single cell downstairs.
Across the road, I set up my tent on a patch of grass. Hidden from the illumination of the few lights in town. I left the tent open on one side, facing the highway and the jailhouse. The air was nice and it wasn't too windy or cold. Around 12 or so, I closed shop for the night, and slept deeply until about 5 AM. I was startled by something running past my tent, close to where I had leaned my bike up against the City Hall. I stopped breathing for a few minutes to try and figure out what it might be. I listened, but didn't hear much more expect for distant barks and howls. The smell of wet dog lingered for a few minutes... after I was able to relaxed again, it didn't take long for me to get back to sleep.
 |
| Dickens City Hall |
Anne was one of 10 children. She lived in the canyons with her family in a town not far from Dickens. She was a hillbilly she said... her and her bothers and sisters would run the canyons... killing rattle snakes... exploring the land. She grew up, hunting food with her kin. The wildlife roaming through the same canyons she adventured through, daily, would feed the family. They would not waste any part of the carcus, like many other resorceful families...Anne learned how to prepare many tipes of poultry dishes. She said Any part of any animal you find out here.. you can bet, i've had it." My imagination could only go so far... She told me about her kids and how successful they have become. Anne has been in law informent for many years as well... she use to transport criminals from one jail to the next, through many countys. Some of her stories kept me on my toes... making me anxious just listening to some of the people she had to work with... on the other side of the cage. Anne is a faithful, joyful woman. I'm grateful to have had the chance to chat with her for a short while, and wont soon forget her smile.
I had about 15 miles to go before I returned to Pitchfork. Tuesday, my spirits were brighter. I was still feeling unsure about the back tracking, knowing, that the weather was only going to get worse in the north west as days past... but when I got to the ranch things started to turn around.
Thursday, October 24, 2013
Flower Mound and Friends
These are some things that went through my head after being home...
I think my auto pilot kicked in. The auto pilot that kicks in when anyone goes home, I assume. Sort of the same feeling you get when you drive so many times....all you remember is getting in the car, and poof* you are suddenly walking into the office...
"Home", holds so many memories and so much familiarity. Home holds so much time. Home can be a place you compare all of your experiences to. Home holds feelings. ideas. emotions. relationships. visions. struggles. growth. choices. I believe all beings have a home...if not more than one. I think that is how we survive. No matter how divergent... It seems like our main achievement in life is creating a "home". We need familiarity. comfort. safety. support. love... no matter how divergent.
To friends at home..it is cool to see how far we have come. You are all going places, that is for damn sure...we all have our time... no need to get jaded by your 3rd year in college. I admire all of you that dedicated yourselves to that square footage, for 4+ years. It really is impressive. It takes time. Patience. Love. Destruction. Nurturing. Within that square footage, most meet themselves. Most meet lifetime friends. Most make memories. Most create a home of sorts. Those that aren't in college, or have never started...way to follow whatever path you have chosen. You are trailing off the beaten path. You know what I know, about yourself. You have chosen to not dedicate yourself to something you are not ready to take on. You are making your own way. That also takes guts. That also takes time. Patience. Love. Destruction. Nurturing.
I think my auto pilot kicked in. The auto pilot that kicks in when anyone goes home, I assume. Sort of the same feeling you get when you drive so many times....all you remember is getting in the car, and poof* you are suddenly walking into the office...
"Home", holds so many memories and so much familiarity. Home holds so much time. Home can be a place you compare all of your experiences to. Home holds feelings. ideas. emotions. relationships. visions. struggles. growth. choices. I believe all beings have a home...if not more than one. I think that is how we survive. No matter how divergent... It seems like our main achievement in life is creating a "home". We need familiarity. comfort. safety. support. love... no matter how divergent.
Home can be a place. It can be a person or people. It can be a thing. It can be an idea. Those who are most fortunate, have created home through a combination of these elements. So, everyone creates a world for themselves.. with what they are given. We all struggle...to nurture and destroy our world. The hardest part, of my own world...committing to a square footage...
I never wanted my "home town" to define me. I didn't want to be molded into the majority percentile.. of any kind. To avoid the mold, usually meant doing things how I wanted, when I wanted, and where I wanted... that is my autopilot. I am not too proud of it... but it helps get me places.
That being said... I fantasize Flower Mound (my physical "home town") being something new and exciting... but Flower Mound will never be that... I am starting to see the beauty of having a home base that will remain quiet and boring...no matter how many trees they destroy.. or how many businesses they implant upon the square footage... it may grow in ways I am not too thrilled about. I may never settle down there...in what used to be the little country town. I can appreciate the lessons and love that came from the time I spent there, when I did.
To friends at home..it is cool to see how far we have come. You are all going places, that is for damn sure...we all have our time... no need to get jaded by your 3rd year in college. I admire all of you that dedicated yourselves to that square footage, for 4+ years. It really is impressive. It takes time. Patience. Love. Destruction. Nurturing. Within that square footage, most meet themselves. Most meet lifetime friends. Most make memories. Most create a home of sorts. Those that aren't in college, or have never started...way to follow whatever path you have chosen. You are trailing off the beaten path. You know what I know, about yourself. You have chosen to not dedicate yourself to something you are not ready to take on. You are making your own way. That also takes guts. That also takes time. Patience. Love. Destruction. Nurturing.
Thanks for being such awesome friends... you know who you are ;)... Thanks for accepting me for me. Thanks for gracing me with your thoughts, time, and love...even when I disappear.
Mom and Family
I guess these are some of the things that went through my head after visiting home last week...
Through the wild youngster years. To the rebellious teen. Onto the young, confused adult... to the first bike ride (the beginning of this year)... almost 23 years later, now, on my solo ride. I have been supported in my choices, by my family... occasionally, it took some time for them to warm up to my ideas.. other times it meant them sitting back, waiting for me to fall on my ass and figure it out... I have always kept them on their toes... it keeps us young.
If we really think about it...we are older than we give ourselves credit for.. 9 months older, that is... we never really think about those 9 months we are so dependently being created. Those are probably some of our most, if not the most crucial months of our existence... which is pretty bizarre, considering we don't have much say in the matter... maybe we tend to forget about the sacrifice others make, in our defense..
The things we don't see or understand. The things we don't (remember) feel(ing). These things tend to get lost in our own world of present problems.
(((Dear Mom moment/tangent...
I can only imagine how it feels to create and nurture another person.. to build a home with and for this person, for decades... only then, to have that person do nothing, but give you grief for a good chunk of time... in the home you practiced nurturing, destroying, and loving... and then (this is the kicker), they decide to travel around the world on their bicycle...
I guess what I am trying to say is I am sorry for causing you grief all those years.. only for my own insecurities, ego, and selfishness... I am working on it.. Thanks for your support. )))
To my family...thanks for sticking behind me.. whether you understand what I am doing on the road, or not... that is what love is. :) It feels very real.
Doing what I want, when I want, how I want.. comes with a great price, to the relationship I have with my family... It usually costs me time and space with them. I miss the fun celebrations like weddings and holidays. I miss the everyday growth of my brother and sisters...my cousins and nephews. The casual time with my parents.
Part of my goal of being on the road, is to allow myself the time and space for the family. To see them in their environment. To witness the homes they have built for themselves. To see their world.
on that note....
“HAPPINESS [is] ONLY REAL WHEN SHARED”
― Jon Krakauer, Into the Wild
Through the wild youngster years. To the rebellious teen. Onto the young, confused adult... to the first bike ride (the beginning of this year)... almost 23 years later, now, on my solo ride. I have been supported in my choices, by my family... occasionally, it took some time for them to warm up to my ideas.. other times it meant them sitting back, waiting for me to fall on my ass and figure it out... I have always kept them on their toes... it keeps us young.
If we really think about it...we are older than we give ourselves credit for.. 9 months older, that is... we never really think about those 9 months we are so dependently being created. Those are probably some of our most, if not the most crucial months of our existence... which is pretty bizarre, considering we don't have much say in the matter... maybe we tend to forget about the sacrifice others make, in our defense..
The things we don't see or understand. The things we don't (remember) feel(ing). These things tend to get lost in our own world of present problems.
(((Dear Mom moment/tangent...
I can only imagine how it feels to create and nurture another person.. to build a home with and for this person, for decades... only then, to have that person do nothing, but give you grief for a good chunk of time... in the home you practiced nurturing, destroying, and loving... and then (this is the kicker), they decide to travel around the world on their bicycle...
I guess what I am trying to say is I am sorry for causing you grief all those years.. only for my own insecurities, ego, and selfishness... I am working on it.. Thanks for your support. )))
To my family...thanks for sticking behind me.. whether you understand what I am doing on the road, or not... that is what love is. :) It feels very real.
Part of my goal of being on the road, is to allow myself the time and space for the family. To see them in their environment. To witness the homes they have built for themselves. To see their world.
on that note....
“HAPPINESS [is] ONLY REAL WHEN SHARED”
― Jon Krakauer, Into the Wild
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
The Ranch
I left the church around 7:45 in the morning. It was cold and still outside. As I was getting back on 114, making my way North, I heard the last howls of the coyotes for that night.
I was riding down the highway.. thinking.. trying to make sense of the events of the evening before. Jammye pulled over about an hour down the road to offer me a ride the rest of the way to the ranch, where she invited me for breakfast.
We loaded my bike into the back of her SUV and chatted a bit.
'
When we pulled up to the ranch I started to grin. It was like what you read about in children's books. The little white houses with the red trim, on the prairie... A beautifully self sustained community. Horses, cattle, land. Quietness. Friendly folks. Cowboys. Real Cowboys!
We pulled up to the kitchen house. Jammye introduced me to Stella (the office manager) and Linda (the boss in the kitchen!) ;). They offered me some breakfast. Some stew and beans. Authentic, delicious, country cooking! Stella and Linda asked me questions about my trip, and insisted it was much too dangerous being on the road on my own.
Jammye had to head the work. We unloaded my bike from her car while Linda kindly heated some food for me. Jammye wished me safety and luck... and kindly donated to my trip. She has truly been a moving presence on my ride... only after 2 breif meetings in a couple of hours. We hugged for a final time (although I have a feeling I will see her again very soon)...
I went back in to eat and have some coffee. Stella, Linda, and I talked about life in the country. Life as a wife. Raising children on the ranch. Private and public schools. And cowboys, of course :).
Stella invited me to stay, rest, and shower. Instinctively, I turned down the offer, knowing I needed to keep to my "schedule"...
While finishing breakfast... quite a character arrived at the dining hall.
Ross. A true icon of a cowboy.
Stella gave me a short tour of the dinning room photos, and Ross kindly agreed to drive me up the road about 20 to 30 miles, over the flat.
As much as I wanted to ride through the hills, I didn't want to miss out on a chance to talk to this guy!
Ross and I talked about the land. We talked about the ups and downs of what the ranch goes through. We talked about his life as a cowboy. He told me stories of spending his winters on the lake, shooting the quail off the cattle's feed. Now-a-days he takes care of the breeding mares.
About 30 minutes down the road, after Ross dropped me off at the top of the flat... I was rethinking the offer Stella had given to stick around. I fantasized for the rest of the day about helping in the kitchen, reading in my hammock and riding horses.
Learning about life on the ranch.
With really kind, interesting folks.
Life on a ranch seems pretty damn ideal to me...
Denton to Jacksboro onto Gurthrie
Last week consisted of a few days resting in the quiet, business of Flower Mound... and a few nights filled with laughs and drinks in Denton with friends. I decided to stay an extra day at home, to allow some extra time to see friends. On Saturday, mom drove me, and my bike, up to Weatherford. Allowing for some quality grandma, grandpa time (my dad's parents).
The last time I visited with them was in February, when I was riding through, with The Young Philanthropists... I remember we were riding our bicycles down the highway when I noticed signs for Weatherford. The landmarks started to become very familiar. I realized we were headed down the same route my parents would take every Sunday to visit my grandparents... Long story short, the group was kind enough to take a detour for lunch, to pop in and meet my grandparents on our way out of DFW.
My grandmother and I talked about what I was doing back out on the road. She asked about my safety. She asked about my plan. She asked to keep her updated.
I had more or less an answer for all of her concerns.
After a couple of hours, Mom, Jamie, and I continued on to Jacksboro...home of Fort Richardson.
The car ride was quiet. timid. anxious.
Most of me felt bad for making my mom drive me out to Jacksboro. I felt like it was almost pure torture to make her do that. The other part of me thought it was progressive. healthy. strengthening. encouraging. For her and my brother.
I was eager to start the next step of my trip. camping. alone.
As we drove up to the park, Mom told me her dad, Grandpa Lester, always wanted to come see the Texas Forts...he probably never will. I am glad I get to see it, and take some pictures for him along the way. I am glad my mom tells me these things about her family... the Lester's never were good at connecting... just lots of small talk... We still struggle to visit and dig deep into conversation with one another... I do appreciate the thick skin I inherited from that man.
It was nice to camp again.
The fresh air. The sounds of the wild. The multiplying colors in the sky.
I think all the boy scout troops around calmed Mom's nerves a bit.
To be honest. I was a bit scared. A bit nervous. The next step of my trip was happening.
West Texas. Lots of alone time. Lots of thoughts. Lots of nothing.
Wishing I would have thought to invite them to camp with me for the night, I hugged and kissed mother and brother goodbye.
The next morning I road to Seymour, about 75 miles. The morning started out somewhat chilly. The breeze turned into a wind in the afternoon. The sky was clear. I was happy. I was finally feeling ME again. The things I loved in life finally started coming back to mind. I wasted the day away thinking... creating ideas about the things I love to do, on my very own terms. :)
I broke down and got a motel room the evening so I could do some writing..but the internet didn't work.
The past couple of days, when people ask, I tell them my story. Handing out brochures from the first ride, explaining why I am, now, back out on the road. Most are encouraged. Most are excited. Some are worried. Lots are confused. Most want to help.
The next morning I left Seymour, hoping to make it to Dickens (another 75/80 miles)...
Although, it has only been a couple of days, at times, it is hard to stay self motivated. When you have a group to work with, you have people to talk to. You have more structure, needing to get from point A to point B, collectively...It is easy to get bored when you are alone for a handful of consecutive hours.
The morning, heading out of Seymour, started off with a breezy cold front.
It was a beautiful break from the sun.
Two folks stopped to give me some water bottles... one of the most generous gifts given in this world :)
The cold front cleared and the sun started to sink deeper into the sky. I made it to Guthrie, TX around 5. My body was tired. I was about ready to call it quits for the day...Dickens was still another 20 miles or so up the road...I wasn't about to ride at night with no lights, alone. I turned off 114 into Guthrie...
Guthrie is a town of 106 people. A couple of houses, a football field, and a small baptist church, was the only trace of civilization for miles and miles. I parked my bottom on the steps of the church. Kicked my shoes off. Dumped some bbq sauce into my bag of tyson chicken. Sat back to enjoyed the sound of trucks occasionally driving down the small, country road, as the sun kept sinking behind me.
As I was just about to throw my trash out and get my sleeping bag set, a women pulled into the drive.
She seemed curiously concerned. She asked if I needed anything.. a bathroom perhaps...
I was quite grateful that she took the time to stop and ask.
I told her how I wound up in Guthrie, alone. How I wasn't ready to settle down quite yet, after the first bike ride... How I still had something to gain out here on the road... and how I felt that God has and is keeping me safe.
She was quite moved.
She (Jammye) was a member at the church, and offered me a place to stay, there, for the night.
I gladly accepted.
After we talked a little bit more, she invited me to breakfast in the morning at the ranch up the road, where her husband worked.
Again, I gladly accepted the invitation.
It was really a wonderful thing to be talking to someone after 2 days of little communication...so this was a real treat!
We exchanged information and hugs.
When she left, I brought my bike inside and got settled.
A few minutes later Jammye called me, telling me she was going to have a friend stop by with a plate of food for dinner. The evening kept getting greater and greater...
Sure enough, another kind women came to the church on her way to the airport.
She dropped off a delicious, huge meal.
I was well fed and plenty tired, excited to meet some ranchers in the morning!
The last time I visited with them was in February, when I was riding through, with The Young Philanthropists... I remember we were riding our bicycles down the highway when I noticed signs for Weatherford. The landmarks started to become very familiar. I realized we were headed down the same route my parents would take every Sunday to visit my grandparents... Long story short, the group was kind enough to take a detour for lunch, to pop in and meet my grandparents on our way out of DFW.
My grandmother and I talked about what I was doing back out on the road. She asked about my safety. She asked about my plan. She asked to keep her updated.
I had more or less an answer for all of her concerns.
After a couple of hours, Mom, Jamie, and I continued on to Jacksboro...home of Fort Richardson.
The car ride was quiet. timid. anxious.
Most of me felt bad for making my mom drive me out to Jacksboro. I felt like it was almost pure torture to make her do that. The other part of me thought it was progressive. healthy. strengthening. encouraging. For her and my brother.
I was eager to start the next step of my trip. camping. alone.
As we drove up to the park, Mom told me her dad, Grandpa Lester, always wanted to come see the Texas Forts...he probably never will. I am glad I get to see it, and take some pictures for him along the way. I am glad my mom tells me these things about her family... the Lester's never were good at connecting... just lots of small talk... We still struggle to visit and dig deep into conversation with one another... I do appreciate the thick skin I inherited from that man.
It was nice to camp again.
The fresh air. The sounds of the wild. The multiplying colors in the sky.
I think all the boy scout troops around calmed Mom's nerves a bit.
To be honest. I was a bit scared. A bit nervous. The next step of my trip was happening.
West Texas. Lots of alone time. Lots of thoughts. Lots of nothing.
Wishing I would have thought to invite them to camp with me for the night, I hugged and kissed mother and brother goodbye.
The next morning I road to Seymour, about 75 miles. The morning started out somewhat chilly. The breeze turned into a wind in the afternoon. The sky was clear. I was happy. I was finally feeling ME again. The things I loved in life finally started coming back to mind. I wasted the day away thinking... creating ideas about the things I love to do, on my very own terms. :)
I broke down and got a motel room the evening so I could do some writing..but the internet didn't work.
The past couple of days, when people ask, I tell them my story. Handing out brochures from the first ride, explaining why I am, now, back out on the road. Most are encouraged. Most are excited. Some are worried. Lots are confused. Most want to help.
The next morning I left Seymour, hoping to make it to Dickens (another 75/80 miles)...
Although, it has only been a couple of days, at times, it is hard to stay self motivated. When you have a group to work with, you have people to talk to. You have more structure, needing to get from point A to point B, collectively...It is easy to get bored when you are alone for a handful of consecutive hours.
The morning, heading out of Seymour, started off with a breezy cold front.
It was a beautiful break from the sun.
Two folks stopped to give me some water bottles... one of the most generous gifts given in this world :)
The cold front cleared and the sun started to sink deeper into the sky. I made it to Guthrie, TX around 5. My body was tired. I was about ready to call it quits for the day...Dickens was still another 20 miles or so up the road...I wasn't about to ride at night with no lights, alone. I turned off 114 into Guthrie...
Guthrie is a town of 106 people. A couple of houses, a football field, and a small baptist church, was the only trace of civilization for miles and miles. I parked my bottom on the steps of the church. Kicked my shoes off. Dumped some bbq sauce into my bag of tyson chicken. Sat back to enjoyed the sound of trucks occasionally driving down the small, country road, as the sun kept sinking behind me.
As I was just about to throw my trash out and get my sleeping bag set, a women pulled into the drive.
She seemed curiously concerned. She asked if I needed anything.. a bathroom perhaps...
I was quite grateful that she took the time to stop and ask.
I told her how I wound up in Guthrie, alone. How I wasn't ready to settle down quite yet, after the first bike ride... How I still had something to gain out here on the road... and how I felt that God has and is keeping me safe.
She was quite moved.
She (Jammye) was a member at the church, and offered me a place to stay, there, for the night.
I gladly accepted.
After we talked a little bit more, she invited me to breakfast in the morning at the ranch up the road, where her husband worked.
Again, I gladly accepted the invitation.
It was really a wonderful thing to be talking to someone after 2 days of little communication...so this was a real treat!
We exchanged information and hugs.
When she left, I brought my bike inside and got settled.
A few minutes later Jammye called me, telling me she was going to have a friend stop by with a plate of food for dinner. The evening kept getting greater and greater...
Sure enough, another kind women came to the church on her way to the airport.
She dropped off a delicious, huge meal.
I was well fed and plenty tired, excited to meet some ranchers in the morning!
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
little miracles.
Glen carefully dropped me off in Buffalo.. making sure I had a safe roof over my head.
I got a cheap(ish) motel room for the night..(after the young and wild adventure, it is always hard to shovel out money for a place to sleep...knowing you could sleep somewhere for free..)
The next day I got another late start, due to a full night of blogging and Facebook...I got on the road about 12 pm, after a cup of coffee.
I started off on Old Hwy 75. Lush, green, rolling pastures for miles.
It was a long, quiet day of riding... though, the dogs definitely kept me on my toes.
I wasn't feeling as motivated as I had the rest of the week.
I saw few cars. I saw few faces. I said nothing. My mind was quiet.
As each day passes, however...I think less and less about the first tour...The Young Philanthropists... The one where I met 8 strangers. The one where I fell for a guy. The one where we road 7,000 miles around the country in 5 months... I no longer affiliate my everyday life to that experience anymore...I am, thankfully, after 4 months, in the midst of creating something new...I no longer wish to be on the road of that ride..I no longer sulk in the past.
I think the thing I love most about the country is no matter how large or small the house is, there is always plenty of chairs for everyone...around a fire pit, on a porch, or under a shady tree.
...so, I road from Buffalo to Corsicana.
I arrived in a some-what sketchy side of town..after dark..hungry and tired.
I forgot how nice it was to know where you get to rest your head each night.
I just couldn't bring myself to purchase another room.
I road to a Dominos. Ordered a small pizza. I got the usual strange looks from customers coming to pick up their pizzas..to enjoy in their cozy homes.
It amuses me how people turn their heads. Shyly. Discreetly... trying to quickly analyze and make sense of my dirt covered legs...my ridiculous bike shorts...and the loaded bicycle, outside.
sometimes they ask about it... sometimes they don't.
I found a church behind Domino's...but it was a loud area, so I decided to keep looking around.
I road east a few blocks toward the downtown square... old red brick buildings, with christmas lights up in the trees. It felt safe.
I started to ride North out of Corsicana...toward Ennis (the next major city).
Not wanting to risk getting hit, I decided I'd camp out at another church... I found one conveniently located right on the Farm Road I planned on taking out of town.
I road up the parking lot and around to the back of the building.
I get pretty lazy when it comes to setting up the tent...so I decided to utilize the fort :)
As a conséquence, I did get torn up by the damn mosquitos...
Around 8:30 the next morning, a large truck muffler turning into the parking lot woke me.
First thought... Oh fuck..
Then, a car door. Then footsteps in the rocks of the playground....Then a "Hello!?!"
I shyly relied ..hiii...
I wasn't expecting a courtesy call for check out...let alone, a check out messenger.
The man, John, was rather confused and frustrated with my shelter decision.
I explained to him about how I arrived here behind the church...which also turned out to be a school of sorts...where his daughter attended kindergarden, and his Wife, Debrah, was teaching first grade.
After telling him my situation, he seemed to cool off a bit, but wasn't quite sold on the idea.
He was a kind enough man just protecting his wife and daughter from potential danger.
I can respect that.
He walked off scratching his head.
I started to pack up my sleeping bag when John came back out to the playground.. this time with Debrah, his wife.
She was super kind. with a genuine smile. meeting her was a nice way to turn the day around. She wasn't frightened of me. I could feel and see her love. her openness. she must have been a true mother... like my mother.
We all chatted for a moment.
Eventually John left and Debrah went back to class.
A few moments later when I was just about ready to go, Debrah came back outside.
She invited me to use the bathroom if I needed. (a small miracle in itself).
I was back on the road, earlier today...
Today was the day I would make it to Dallas! :)
The day started with little miracles that didn't stop.
I pulled off for a late breakfast at Waffle House in Ennis, Texas.
Food tastes so much better when you are pedaling all day...
I went to the counter to pay my bill... after a few minutes, another waitress informed me someone had paid for my meal and tip...
I made my way, away from the highway. I hung a right onto Main St., running parallel to the railroad tracks. It felt old. It had history. I enjoyed riding there. The houses are all different shapes, colors, sizes. The neighborhoods all have stories to tell. The trains have so much history vibrating through the rails.
I often turn around to check for cars and dogs. I turn around once and notice a man in his lawn. I shout "Hey!" He shouts "Hey!" back.. I keep pedaling on.
After about 10 miles down the road, the man I exchanged "Hey!"'s with, Tommy, drove up in a green truck.
He handed me $20 dollars and said, "I don''t know what you are doing out here, but the Lord moved me to come give you something, to help you."... The rain started to pick up.
I explained to him what I was doing and (as best I could) why I was doing it.
He was surprised, but smiled, joyfully.
He blessed me. Wished me safety. And told me I shouldn't keep doing this for much longer. He said, "what ever you are looking for out here...God is it."
I thanked him again. I told him I appreciate him taking the time to talk with me. That is after all part of the reason why I am doing what I'm doing...
We said our goodbyes and went our separate ways, with lifted spirits.
The rain stayed pretty steady and strong for most of the day.
When I finally reached Dallas the clouds started to separate.
I made it to the DART downtown around 6.
Got on the Green line to North Carrolton.
Transfered to the Denton A Track
Arrived at the Highland Village/Lewisville Lake station just before dark around 7.
The pedal home only took about 20 minutes. :)
I give the Dallas DART 5 stars! (Austin needs to get their shit together!)
It is good to be home :)
Cheers.
I got a cheap(ish) motel room for the night..(after the young and wild adventure, it is always hard to shovel out money for a place to sleep...knowing you could sleep somewhere for free..)
The next day I got another late start, due to a full night of blogging and Facebook...I got on the road about 12 pm, after a cup of coffee.
I started off on Old Hwy 75. Lush, green, rolling pastures for miles.
It was a long, quiet day of riding... though, the dogs definitely kept me on my toes.
I wasn't feeling as motivated as I had the rest of the week.
I saw few cars. I saw few faces. I said nothing. My mind was quiet.
As each day passes, however...I think less and less about the first tour...The Young Philanthropists... The one where I met 8 strangers. The one where I fell for a guy. The one where we road 7,000 miles around the country in 5 months... I no longer affiliate my everyday life to that experience anymore...I am, thankfully, after 4 months, in the midst of creating something new...I no longer wish to be on the road of that ride..I no longer sulk in the past.
I think the thing I love most about the country is no matter how large or small the house is, there is always plenty of chairs for everyone...around a fire pit, on a porch, or under a shady tree.
...so, I road from Buffalo to Corsicana.
I arrived in a some-what sketchy side of town..after dark..hungry and tired.
I forgot how nice it was to know where you get to rest your head each night.
I just couldn't bring myself to purchase another room.
I road to a Dominos. Ordered a small pizza. I got the usual strange looks from customers coming to pick up their pizzas..to enjoy in their cozy homes.
It amuses me how people turn their heads. Shyly. Discreetly... trying to quickly analyze and make sense of my dirt covered legs...my ridiculous bike shorts...and the loaded bicycle, outside.
sometimes they ask about it... sometimes they don't.
I found a church behind Domino's...but it was a loud area, so I decided to keep looking around.
I road east a few blocks toward the downtown square... old red brick buildings, with christmas lights up in the trees. It felt safe.
I started to ride North out of Corsicana...toward Ennis (the next major city).
Not wanting to risk getting hit, I decided I'd camp out at another church... I found one conveniently located right on the Farm Road I planned on taking out of town.
I road up the parking lot and around to the back of the building.
I get pretty lazy when it comes to setting up the tent...so I decided to utilize the fort :)
As a conséquence, I did get torn up by the damn mosquitos...
Around 8:30 the next morning, a large truck muffler turning into the parking lot woke me.
First thought... Oh fuck..
Then, a car door. Then footsteps in the rocks of the playground....Then a "Hello!?!"
I shyly relied ..hiii...
I wasn't expecting a courtesy call for check out...let alone, a check out messenger.
The man, John, was rather confused and frustrated with my shelter decision.
I explained to him about how I arrived here behind the church...which also turned out to be a school of sorts...where his daughter attended kindergarden, and his Wife, Debrah, was teaching first grade.
After telling him my situation, he seemed to cool off a bit, but wasn't quite sold on the idea.
He was a kind enough man just protecting his wife and daughter from potential danger.
I can respect that.
He walked off scratching his head.
I started to pack up my sleeping bag when John came back out to the playground.. this time with Debrah, his wife.
She was super kind. with a genuine smile. meeting her was a nice way to turn the day around. She wasn't frightened of me. I could feel and see her love. her openness. she must have been a true mother... like my mother.
We all chatted for a moment.
Eventually John left and Debrah went back to class.
A few moments later when I was just about ready to go, Debrah came back outside.
She invited me to use the bathroom if I needed. (a small miracle in itself).
I was back on the road, earlier today...
Today was the day I would make it to Dallas! :)
The day started with little miracles that didn't stop.
I pulled off for a late breakfast at Waffle House in Ennis, Texas.
Food tastes so much better when you are pedaling all day...
I went to the counter to pay my bill... after a few minutes, another waitress informed me someone had paid for my meal and tip...
I made my way, away from the highway. I hung a right onto Main St., running parallel to the railroad tracks. It felt old. It had history. I enjoyed riding there. The houses are all different shapes, colors, sizes. The neighborhoods all have stories to tell. The trains have so much history vibrating through the rails.
I often turn around to check for cars and dogs. I turn around once and notice a man in his lawn. I shout "Hey!" He shouts "Hey!" back.. I keep pedaling on.
After about 10 miles down the road, the man I exchanged "Hey!"'s with, Tommy, drove up in a green truck.
He handed me $20 dollars and said, "I don''t know what you are doing out here, but the Lord moved me to come give you something, to help you."... The rain started to pick up.
I explained to him what I was doing and (as best I could) why I was doing it.
He was surprised, but smiled, joyfully.
He blessed me. Wished me safety. And told me I shouldn't keep doing this for much longer. He said, "what ever you are looking for out here...God is it."
I thanked him again. I told him I appreciate him taking the time to talk with me. That is after all part of the reason why I am doing what I'm doing...
We said our goodbyes and went our separate ways, with lifted spirits.
The rain stayed pretty steady and strong for most of the day.
When I finally reached Dallas the clouds started to separate.
I made it to the DART downtown around 6.
Got on the Green line to North Carrolton.
Transfered to the Denton A Track
Arrived at the Highland Village/Lewisville Lake station just before dark around 7.
The pedal home only took about 20 minutes. :)
I give the Dallas DART 5 stars! (Austin needs to get their shit together!)
It is good to be home :)
Cheers.
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