I am blessed and alive.
We are camped at the top of a steep gravel road in the Uncomphagre National Forrest which is about thirty minutes outside of Montrose, Colorado. We will reach Utah tomorrow.
We just wished our only neighboring camper well on their way after they assisted us in jumping the bike with their car battery. The mid-autumn cold that snaps bitterly overnight might pose an issue for our mode of transportation. He was a kind, older gentleman without much to say besides some warm sentiments of luck on our journey. I am grateful for the kindness of strangers.
I am grateful to be able to trust my partner with such implicit certainty. A road trip by motorcycle is an intense, intimate amount of trust to place on another person when you are the passenger. The fact that I can give my confidence without hesitation is a revelation and an exploration of the depth of human connection.
I am grateful for my sense of sight. To be able to observe the vast, grand beauty of this world. I have found that living in the city dulls my appreciation for the sublimity of nature and her landscapes. City living dulls everything.
I want to live in the countryside. I need this freedom. Twenty four years on this earth and I have found the goal to be happiness. Certainly doing that which brings joy. But I think, perhaps even more importantly, not subjecting yourself to that which you consciously know brings you anything but.
No more allowing misery, discontent, anxiety, and pain in situations where you are able to choose alternatives and otherwise. Choose happiness AND choose to reject unhappiness with a steadfast, unwavering conviction.
Rolled into Moab later than expected and grabbed a hotel instead of setting up camp in the dark. Utah is breathtaking every single second to the next. Rode through the canyon lands. Mind boggled. We will explore the famous arches tomorrow.
I imagine Moab and the surface of Mars must look strikingly similar. What a multitude and variety of strange, alien worlds exist on the surface of this planet we call home. Absolutely one of my favorite places I've ever explored and witnessed in my entire existence thus far.
Camped the other night near a place called Koosharem, up a remote dirt trail on an isolated hill with nothing but the fear of mountain lions to keep us company in the wind rustled shrubs. Took some persuading to wake the bike back up this morning after it's slumber in the fall frost. No neighbors to assist us this time. We got rolling downhill, and then slammed our body weight to our seats a few times. Similar to CPR compression, the force pressured the motor into motion. And so we were back on our way.
Currently sitting in a laundromat in Springdale, Utah, at the base of the Zion. We will go into the park after our clothes are clean. Even here on the road, two people living off a pack mule Harley, general hygiene is still important to me.
Our current set up is about fifteen minutes away from here, outside a town called Hurricane pronounced Hurra-kin. Down by the tiniest of creeks, it is a popular camping spot. There are many types of cars and vans scattered in respectful distance from each other. We are the only motorcycle.
What a damn adventure, what freedom. This is the feeling I want. This is the life I want. We are insane. We are insane together.
About twenty minutes outside Grand Canyon Park in Arizona. We have crossed the entire length of a state to be here. Headed home tomorrow.
How beautiful to feel as ridiculously small as I do right now. Many of my "problems" have ceased to exist or even cross my mind out here. I am the freest I have ever been.
Broken down outside of Durango, Colorado. I knew we'd have to overcome one big snag. No trip is complete without one. We'll see how this goes, but it is refreshingly novel how unworried I am.
Travel has so often, in the past, been a bitter source of stress. Strict departure schedules with hundreds of dollars worth of non-refundable tickets on the line. Crowded airports and stations cluttered with frantic commuters whose eyes never meet. Screaming children and careening luggage to avoid. Many memories of childhood excursions include pressing myself flat into the farthest corner of any terminal. Attempting to extract myself from the scurrying, ambiguous hysteria.
The Grand Canyon certainly lives up to the moniker. To stand on the precipice of such colossal immensity, the ego and consciousness is rendered insignificant in the presence of such boundless wisdom. What gravity could our human accolades and accomplishments possibly hold when that valley has known eighty million years of rain storms.
Rode yesterday through Monument Valley. These monolithic, ancient giants standing sentinel in the ochre haze of the desert. It blows my mind to know that all these geological marvels even exist. Have existed for countless years and will continue to exist for countless more without a single regard for any human perception.
We are utterly insignificant to the grandeur of this earth and it is marvelous to be awestruck at the awareness such a knowledge.
Home. Bummer that the trip had to end anti-climatically in a U-Haul. But honestly, it was the best outcome of the whole situation. Could have been a lot worse.
It was one of those federal holidays, Columbus Day I think, where it's a gamble if a business is open or not. And in this middle of nowhere town, we should have been sitting ducks. But thankfully a random horse feed store a mile's walk away had one singular trailer available for rent.
Packed the chopper up, and we made the last thousand mile stretch back North. He's upset he didn't get to roar into the cul-de-sac like a conquering cowboy, but otherwise the ride was pleasant. We had interesting conversations. There was good music and spectacular views.
We are so patient with each other. Gracious and understanding. Allowing the other to simply be, even when that means being annoyed or aggravated. "Problems" are so easy together.
I am going to marry that man.
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