9/8- Ride the Burn

I woke up somewhere around noon. When Todd and I had split ways the day before he had given me some MRE heaters that Michelle Montana (hi, Michelle), one of the ladies reading along here that he'd gotten in touch with, had given him. With him not being much of a cooker he gave them to me figuring I'd probably get some use out of them, and I was curious so I took them. Trying them out that morning I realized that MRE heaters are best used with MREs of which I had none.

Being the crafty little dipshit I am, I was curious to see if I could finagle something with some of the last bit of rice I was looking to eat up. I've been getting tired of all the slow cooking, clean up, and all the water consumed in eating rice so I've been trying to use it all up quickly. With these little things I figured I'd try using my ziplock bags as an MRE pack and hope the heating process would work in a way that burned slow enough to absorb all the water into the rice, but with out all the hassle of moving things around and clean up time. It failed miserably.

I ended up with some weird, soggy concoction that was leaking everywhere with crunchy, potentially chemically poisoned rice inside. It was worth the effort. Instead I scrapped the whole thing and ate some oatmeal. I like a good experiment even if they're failed ones.

By one or so I was back on the road to see Mt. Hood's snow capped visage hovering far off at the end of it. To my right was the stark jagged peaks of some lower mountains, and to my left the backdrop was lined with more snow caps like Mt. Jefferson and the Sisters. It was back to being a hot day, and again I neglected my sunblock, so as I hoofed my way toward Madras, where US-26 intersected leading off to Portland, I continued cooking my face for the afternoon.

It was another day where I'd doubt myself then be struck with great luck on rides. It seems whenever I hit that point of conceding to walking the distance then a ride comes by, but I first need to go through the facade of conceding for the ride before genuinely conceding. Its a weird process, and perhaps all in my head, but it seems consistent which is why it takes so many miles to get around the fake concession. Its not so much genuinely needing to lose hope of a ride daily, as much as it is genuinely needing to be happy with just walking daily.

Tom was my first ride. He picked up me up about 4 or 5 miles from where I started on a ramp sloping down off a bridge. I was getting a rock out of my shoe and randomly looked up and threw my thumb out only to be completely surprised when he pulled over. As he drove me 20 miles up to Madras we talked about the divorce he's going through and his concern for the kids he has and how they'll handle it. He was kind enough to go off the main street once in Madras and drop me right in front of the library once he heard I was interested in heading there.

After some internet time there I set off back out of town again with a decision ahead of me. Now this one was a weird one. As I mentioned in the last post I had no idea why I was drawn to Bend, but I was and I picked up a great ride with Luego heading that way that took me 250 miles, 309 for the day. At the north end of Madras was another split, US-26 that went around Mt. Hood to Portland or OR-97 that went to The Dalles. I was having another weird draw to The Dalles and had no clue why.

When I hit that intersection looking at the hill taking US-26 off and the curve bending OR-97 out of sight I was completely perplexed as to what to do. Here I was reminded of Todd and his concern for me about using these studies in intuition for manipulation of the universe rather than genuine self exploration. I was literally standing there, stuck in my mind, as to which way to go despite the practical road being somewhat obvious. OR-97 took me back east a little ways while it went north where US-26 was laid out in a direct north western way that pleases me so much in a geeky way when I come across it.

I thought of Todd with his concerns of me trying to manipulate fate or "guidance" because I found myself wrestling with taking OR-97 to be "on the right road" for who ever is supposed to pick me up there to give me the big ride all the way to Seattle. Or taking US-26 for the direct, less faith based, approach and finding myself walking the whole way missing that ride on OR-97. It was a really weird debate.

Turning right, I started down OR-97 toward The Dalles. The reasoning in my head started kicking in that it did make sense because of all the warnings not to hitch in Washington. According to Tom they'll simply throw you in jail, which I didn't quite believe, but figured from The Dalles I had I-84 to walk a bit to catch a ride up into Seattle. Where as in Portland I'd be stuck right there on the edge and find myself walking into Washington state and have even more of a rough time. Basically I was conjuring up horror stories for myself about not tuning in to "the right road" creating fear which is exactly opposite of the whole idea of having any kind of faith or intuitional guidance.

Anyway, I got around the bend heading north and realized I needed water and was passing a Safeway. I went in and filled up which gave me a bit more time to relax on this completely self made situation. When I walked out of the store US-26 was right in front of me and OR-97 was back behind the store from whence I came. I decided, fuck it, if I'm afraid of being out of tune with listening to my inner voice then I've lost contact with it anyway. The intelligent and obvious thing to do is take US-26 for the direct route, so that's what I did.

As had happened the day before, I walked many miles over many hours, this time in constant second guessing about my decision, before I connected with something again. It was about the same time as well, I'd walked probably 7 miles and had finally wrestled myself out of my second guessing for the most part, when I noticed a car half a mile up pull into a dirt lot.

The dirt lot was the only pull off, other than the shoulder of the busy road, and I got the notion in my head that perhaps that might be for me. I had been dragging me feet, but I quickened my step now to put myself in a position of seeing what was going on there before he pulled out and left the lot. Keeping my thumb out as I walked, I kept my eyes on him watching as the guy was moving things about in his car and appeared to be clearing out room. It was a big SUV so I wasn't sure if it was a family taking a pee break or something, or if it was just a guy on trip on his own. As I got up to him, and was just about to pass him, I was still watching him and finally he looked up and waved me over.

Lawrence was coming home from Burning Man and the playa dust all over the inside and outside of his car was testament to it. It had been his first time going and he seemed quite consumed with the impact that it had left on him, enough to have me a little concerned when I first got in. He was from Seattle and intended to be there that night by midnight. It was my second several hundred mile ride in two consecutive days, something was looking out for me and I'm guessing it didn't want me going down OR-97 in the end.

Lawrence turned out to be a really great ride. Like I said, he was coming off Burning Man with this huge experience still unprocessed going on in his head and he was struggling hard to get it out in words. He picked me up because he needed someone to talk to, because the impression was so deep. We clicked perfectly though.

As we drove I told him exactly what I was up to, the intuitional wander, some of the sit down and shut up philosophies, and just relayed a bunch of my thoughts on spirituality and the world at large. Despite all of that sounding like a mouthful, he was the one who actually did most of the talking, working out how to articulate the major adjustments he was thinking making in his life, and what had just happened to him in this past week down in Nevada. It seemed to take maybe fifteen or twenty minutes before we were divulging very personal aspects of ourselves, concerns for ourselves, and such things as we cruised toward Mt. Hood.

By the time we were driving under the looming peaks he was saying he wanted to stop to eat letting me know when we got there that my coin was no good there. It was a really incredible experience riding up with him. We scoped out a little mountain town diner for some burgers and coffee. He was explicit with me that he was in no hurry to get anywhere, as I was reaffirming to him that neither was I, but he was also hitting around about me staying at his place when we got to the city around midnight. I hadn't been concerned for where to stay since I knew once Wendie and Daniel knew I was up in town that I'd be able to stay at their place, but there was definitely something here with Lawrence to explore and I was excited it wasn't going to end with the ride.

We took off again, riding up I-5 with a few coffee stops along the way to grease the wheels and keep us awake. When we arrived at his place around midnight, we were literally down the street from Wendie and Daniel's Beacon Hill home that they rent out. That was a back of the mind ease, though everything was going really well with Lawrence, that if something should come up I only had to walk up a hill to be inside again. By then I'd called Wend to let her know I was in town already and she'd offered up the house, so it was all official.

Instead, Lawrence and I chatted a bit and he let me use the computer when he went to bed so I could let people know where I was. In the morning we planned to have coffee together and figure out something from there. By 2am I had a bed and slept in it like a rock.