Throughout the wee wee hours of the morning, I woke to rain gently falling on the roof of the van. It was pleasant and I was grateful that it was not heavier. I’ve lived in the van during heavy rainstorms and it’s as if the rain is trying to push its way through its thin metal roof. I laid there in bed thinking of M, who is in a tent about 30 yards away – along with more friends in tents scattered about 3 campsites. I laid there wondering if her tent was durable enough to keep the rain out. When I texted her yesterday about possible thunderstorms, she had said her tent was old. I am sure she is fine, but I still wondered.
M and I were the last two at the fire last night, we talked of all the things I know of her, which is a bit. We had dated a few times over the years, none of those times ever lasted as long as either one of us wanted them to. Either she had life things happening that cut us short or I did. Our timing has always been horrible and it’s a pity, because she is all the good things you can think of to describe a woman. I asked about her job, her parents, her future plans – all the things a person that cares would ask. She sounded ground and secure, happy (as she always is) yet unsure of what was next for her in life.
I think there are a lot of people in this world that live that way, those of us who live a little more freely and less securely, those of us who just don’t know what they want to do. We might have dreams and ideas, but whether its money or education or lack of skills or something else, we just do what’s necessary to live and wait to see what is going to happen next. What direction the universe is going to push us in. It’s a tough way to live at times, all the directionless moments, but at the same time it can be freeing and exciting. I’m also thinking the confines and rigidity one gets from a mapped out road and timetables can be just as tough, yet just as gratifying.
Upon arriving here at Wishon Rv Park, I said hello to some of people I am camping with, then went straight to pulling out my bike so I could go for a ride. The same bike I locked up outside the van last night and didn’t once think about the rain coming and how I should have put it away (I’ve been obsessing on this once I realized I did that, which was right after I woke up, which was 45 minutes ago). I strapped on my clipless shoes, filled a water bottle and head towards the reservoir. It was a fast but short ride to the water, all downhill on 2 lane highway. The 29” tires picked up a lovely amount of speed and coasted along the decaying asphalt. The road so far gone that the double yellow line was faint and almost nonexistent. Weaving back and forth across my lane, the smell of the pines, the warmth of the sun and crisp air filling my lungs. Not 10 seconds into the ride I knew where and what I was supposed to be doing with my life.
I am supposed to be riding my bike.
The pure joy I get from racing down hills and climbing the same ones with grit and determination do something to my soul. As I sped along, I started daydreaming of grinding up and down mountain roads, sweating along on desolate desert highways, limping my way through the swampy wet back roads of the south. I could see my happiness, my future. The question is, how do I get there.
I made it to the reservoir, it’s waters light green at the shore turning deep blue as my eyes followed it out to the center of the reservoir and clear across to the other side. It’s surrounded by mountains as one would expect being that I am in the mountains, with green pines dotting their way down to the granite rock shoreline. I made a left and followed that road towards the back of the reservoir which made it only a quarter of the way back. I hit the end, spun around and headed back to the main road, then made a left towards the dam. I rode up some granite slabs, surveyed the water and the canyon below and started my way back to the RV park.
This ride wasn’t intended to be long; it was a ride out of uncomfortableness and needing to
stretch my legs. I don’t always know how to act, even around close friends. I do however know how to ride my bike; I know how to peddle my way through feelings. There was no reason to feel out of place or as if I was odd man out, but that is just how I felt. This camping trip, with these people is not my first, nor my second – but when my head gets involved, my reality gets skewed.
I made it back to camp about an hour later, 8 miles and 700 feet climbed. These numbers are important to me, I want to continually push myself and for good reason, I’ve much riding in my future. Wishon reservoir sits at 6500 feet in elevation, somewhere above Shaver Lake. The air is thin here and surprisingly I was not as winded as I thought I would be. Getting back to camp I took to talking for a brief moment, then headed to a cold shower. A $1.25 later and smelling like Pantene and Dove soap, I got to sitting around the fire and talking. The conversation went as all conversations go while sitting around with close friends, yet there was karaoke involved. What we really needed was someone playing a guitar and it would of been a scene from a movie.
Dinner came and went, more talking, more singing. The light faded and slowly the orange embers of the fire was all that could be seen. Everyone retired to their tents and M and I were left to ourselves, this is when I was asking the questions and retracing our friendship. Sparks of what was flashed across my heart as I could barely make out the shape of her face. I know it well though, it’s a pretty face that compliments her personality. But that is all for not, our last end was by my choice this time and I think that punctuated our romantic relationship. I am fortunate and grateful that we can remain friends and hang out.
After breakfast I said my goodbyes and headed up to Courtright Lake to do a hike to Cliff Lake. The map said it was 10.8 miles there and back with 1500’ of elevation gained. Courtright Lake sits at 8100’. I had never taken on a hike in such elevation, nor with so much elevation gain. I figured that because I mountain bike the hike would fairly easy, I was wrong. The start was good, halfway through wasn’t bad, but at the 4-mile mark of getting there, that’s when it started getting rough. The trail got steep and the tendons in my right ankle started to have some type of feelings towards me and what I was doing.
The times when I think my body has had enough, I think back to a book I read about David Goggin and how he preaches the body can withstand so much more than you think it can. I think of him and press on. I think of all the people that are not able to do such things and I press on. I think of all the people that are having their lives cut short because of an illness and I press on. Leave me to my insanity and I will press on till there is nothing left, till all the thoughts and feelings cease and desist.
Grinding my way through times like this quiets the voices in my head. It puts happiness in my heart and self-esteem on my back. It drains me of so much and I enjoy being empty. I never thought I would ever be able to live a dream like the life I have today. I have always wanted to adventure, to hike, ride and climb, to trip, to travel and go – do all the things I saw on tv as a kid and dreamed about when I was loaded in my grandparents’ garage. And here I am, living those dreams. Here I am, 22 years off drugs, 11 years off smoking, camping in a van I built with my stepdad and hiking to a lake at 9700’ above sea-level. It makes me wonder, even though I know, how did I get here from there?
The hike had some of the most beautiful landscape, some of which is now etched in my mind. Amazing forest, tall trees, grassy meadows, a burnt area from a forest fire last year. The lake was calm when I arrived, as flat as glass. Fish slightly breached the surface catching bugs, mosquitos bussed about me. It wasn’t a large lake, but what it lacked in size it made up for in beauty. One section had the mountain side pushed up against it, with a tiny patch of snow towards the shore. To my left the greenest grass grew and to my right and halfway around trees sat at the shoreline.
It reminded me of the time I was in the 10th grade and went backpacking with Outward Bound. I received a scholarship from the continuation school I was going to. At that time in my life I was too far gone with gangs and criminal activity to know what I had been given and the possibilities that could of come from it. One of the councilors invited me out to her place in Joshua Tree to rock climb that following summer, I never went. I chose all the wrong things for many years of my life.
I stayed at the lake for 10 minutes or so, took a few pics and a selfie for my daughter then headed back down. On my way up I passed four women coming down, they were backpacking and heading home. I was able to catch up to them on the way down back down. I’m thinking with 30 or 40 pounds on your back you move a lot slower. I don’t really know hiking etiquette in the mountains, so I just walked up on the last woman. I scared the bajesus out of her, she thought I was a bear and playfully swung her trekking pole at me. I guess maybe next time I’ll let the person know I am not a bear.
I made it to my van, changed out my sweaty shirt for a dry one and headed back to the RV park. No one was there so to the reservoir I went. I pulled into a parking lot, looked down to the water to see my people lying about and swimming. I ambled down the trail with the tendons in my right ankle having words with me again. The water was refreshing, colder than I would of liked but my sore muscles appreciated it. An hour there then back to the park and alone time. I get weird being around people sometimes, like when I arrived here, I feel like I don’t fit in. It’s a lonely feeling but one I am used too; It’s been this way my entire life.
I ate dinner in the van, did some writing, put away some clothes and cleaned a bit. I came across a strand of my ex’s hair stuck to a shirt in a cubby and felt indifferent to it. I have fretted enough over what was and the ending of that relationship, I am grateful to have let go of it. Before making my way over to the fire that had been going for a while, I sat atop a granite rock formation and staired out at the sky. Huge white clouds with gray undersides hovered above the mountains. The sky true blue behind them, the contrast was reassuring. It felt like I was where I was supposed to be, a feeling I do not have very often.
We sat around the fire and played a singing game C’s daughter taught us. Lots of laughs, lots of smiles, it left me thinking of my future plans. Left me wondering if I was going to miss all this when I leave. It’s not often I am doing this, communing with a bunch of people, I do it so rarely I don’t get invited very often to things. And that’s understandable, if you don’t come around why would we invite you? I think of riding my bike and how much joy I get out of it. How if I could move to a town with new trails to explore, I wouldn’t miss these outings. How if I took on the Trans American Trail, I would have 6 months of me alone on single track and back roads. I would miss the people, but I wouldn’t miss the loneliness I feel in and out of people’s company. Odd how me being alone makes me feel less alone.
Tomorrow morning I will head back to home, wishing I had more time up here to ride my bike. I will go back to the room I am renting, back to work, back to all the things I am grateful for, yet all the things that don’t bring the joy I feel I am missing in life.
My answer to the missing joy in my life has always been a woman. Get a girlfriend and you will no longer be sad. Find a woman to help, save her from herself or misfortunes, that will bring you joy. I have grown old and tired of this, of myself and these choices. I care not to focus on money, I care not to focus on woman, I want to follow my heart, do the things that make me happy. I want to ride my bike. It is the safest and freest I’ve ever felt. Just me and a mountain, me and a dirt road, no stress, no let downs, no lies, no arguing, no chasing, no nothing of what drains me.
I wonder how many people are built this way, so sensitive to the world around them that it harms their soul. And when I ask that question, I answer it, many. So many addicts in this world, so many afflicted with the disease of the sensitive. It is a blessing and a curse all at the same time. Lucky to be built in a manner that gives life and the happenings of it such beauty and intensity, unlucky for the way it drills deep in your heart and shakes you to your core when all is off. It’s just the way it is, there’s no changing it, just accepting it and with acceptance comes the peace. All might not agree with that, but that is my truth. This is just who you are, don’t avoid you and don’t take yourself too seriously.
~
It’s now Sunday morning and rain has been coming and going, light to heavy with droplets falling from the trees after it passes and pinging my roof. I wonder what everyone else is doing, the rain must of surely woke them by now, the thunder has been intense. I’m grateful to be lying in a nice warm bed shielded from the elements with twinkle lights, incense burning and warm coffee by my side. I would like to invite them in and out of the cold, but my van is not that big.
In a couple weeks I will find out about a possible place to live in Morro Bay, rent free for a year. I’m suspect of moving out there, but if this opportunity came up when I’ve been asking for change and a place of my own, why would I not take it. Why would I not switch the way I’ve been living back to how I was 2 years ago. Living with faith, living from my heart. Believing nothing happens by accident and I’m being taken care of no matter what my head tells me. Moving slower, watching the world around me, trusting my intuition over my fear, and taking the opportunities that arise. Live from a more spiritual place and not from this place I went back to when I was falling apart.
I’ve missed who I was, I’ve missed my happiness, my acceptance and I can’t think my way back to it – I’ve somehow forgot that pertinent piece of information. I can only live my way back to it, there is no thinking myself into trust and acceptance and faith, there is only believing in it.
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