Bike trip truth unfolds

Sitting on a couch at our lovely couschsurfing host's house just outside Whitefish, Montana after a relaxed down day and a hearty, mind-concocted, kitchen-cooked meal of baked sweet potatoes, quinoa and portobello muchroom (Spanglish pronunciation) with chives and fennel, and a blackbean tortilla chip soup with carrots onions garlic lemon pepper and cayenne pepper...random as!



My blood has been having fun flowing through my veins real fast this past week at the handlebar helm command center:



Mosquito bites, bwahhhhh

Knee ligaments that feel like they are tearing off the bone, bwahaaaaaahhhh

Afterblast drafts from logging trucks that wobble my whole existence, bleh

Spider bites on my butt, weird

Crazy sounding animal that sounds like it is trying way too hard to whistle unsuccessfully/ announcing in its own weird animal way that it is about to pass a stone but it is too dark out to identify that animal, hmmmm

Roadkill with guts spilling out into the pavement, everywhere!



Morning sun warming chilly bones,

Midday sun fryin' bakin' tannin' and overall overheatin',

Setting sun painting using unexplainable techinique.

The moon allows us to venture a bit deeper into the possibilities.



Eating most ingeniously concocted gruels, stews, mashes, and beetle munch.

Like feeding coal into the stomach of a steam engine.

Farting maximum velocity.



Lazy wakeups, bakeups, grassy shade breaks, getting rained on and staying dry, fetal position comfort under an endless starlit sky.



Convincing myself that with proper upright posture I will eventually become an inch taller.

Zooming downhill like a bullet crouching tiger style singing "the rudeboy train is coming through, the rude boy train is coming through, shoobie doobie dooo, shoobie doobie deeeee"



Random stares smiles glances waves nods...sometimes we make absurdly crazy faces at drivers for our own entertainment (bug eyes, widemouths, Popeyes, astonishocked looks of ghoulish horror, you know, just for kicks).



Crystal clear rivers and lakes providing the playful element of water; refreshment, rejuvenation, a lesson in patience and a new perspective on the passing of time.



Stories from the past, fantasies of the future.

Reflections on the now.

The Now, a cool zone, good "for my health and well-being" (current useful mantra).

Missoula

About to head out of Missoula after 3 beautiful days...I am at the Adventure Cycling headquarters right now getting my picture taken and watching Kaleb eat an ice cream sandwhich. We name my bike the Rude Boy Train last night after I gerry rigged my headlight to my front rack with red electrical tape and it looks like a Rudolph the Red Nosed reindeer, shortened to Rude Boy, and train because my rig is long as hell and is gonna haul ass down hills, uphill I dontwanna think about right now...Next stop is Whitefish...In Missoula I floated stayed with the most amazing wisdom filled goddess named Ethel, who is 72 years young and has a heart of pure gold! We floated the river, hiked to the Peace park, and went to a drum circle (she rips on her djembe! and had an extra for me and Kaleb. A real blessing at the beginning of a trip I say...now its just open road, huge smiles and peanut butter!!!!!!! mmmm, peanut butterrrrr.

Portland

Portland gets two thumbs up...there is bicycle traffic, flourishing greenspace, beautiful flowerfilled neighborhoods with cool old houses that have the lazy front porch you always wanted, artsy crafty hippie eco types, beautiful smiles, youthful energy, tattoos and piercings and pierced tattoos, bike shops that are booked out a whole week for repairs!, Tibetan prayer flags everywhere, Laurelhurst park (where I have killed numerous hours every day in the past week), farmer's markets everyday of the bloody week (it is berry season!), Hawthorne street where you can sell whatever you have to sell or play your instrument as loud as you want, and Waffle Window, cranking out waffles for the masses who look so cheery lining up to enjoy their non-vegan waffles. Portland: the non-city.

Espinoza's Monism

There is one reality, one being; all of the diversity we see in the world are modifications, almost like attributes or properties of this one substance.

One.

Everything is brought

Everything is brought to us, to be bought. Water through invisible pipes. Food on trucks boats planes trains in bags boxes and sacks to be eaten and discarded to an invisible landfill and shit out to an invisible septic tank.

Countless mundane and menial lifesucking jobs (which are supposed to give our lives meaning and $ubstance).

Reality through a screen, controlled by a wizard of Oz type, molding people like clay that will never harden because it is constantly, ceaselessly being molded and is confused as to what specific one shape it should be labeled as...blind to the fact that we cannot be labeled as we are everchanging multidimensional divine beings (label?!).

Knowledge that once had to be sought to shape into wisdom is now brought with the level of importance stressed. You must know important things and do not dare waste your time on childish pursuits such as skateboarding or gem collecting.

Predictability is brought, disguised ever so cleverly as individuality, wrapped in a fat package with cellulite about to burst at gluttony's seams.

Safety is brought through widespread fear and paranoia of losing it all if we stray from the brought path.

The city, same city, different place, providing all we need to see into the bleak monoculture future of denial.

Blood can only stay warm in a cold body for so long.

I am a one man space heater, space cadet idea bulb, serving my universe with warmth and light, a radiation combination that squashes holocaust sized microwaves like a twig under the foot of perceived time...there are no right angles here, only very wrong, perfect, spontaneous nature.

irie

It has been a while...

I haven't sat at this blog thing for a few weeks now. Been on the road. The road is home. So Ive been at home, unplugged.

The Magical Mystery Tour I was on magically and mysteriously got cancelled and splashbang! I'm right back to square one: man with van, will travel. That was early June, what has happened since then:

I was given a free flight so I chose to go to NYC to visit my family and some old friends. Had a few good rips around the city via skateboard and my feet. Met up with old friends and made new ones at The Patriot, NYC's cheapest and best cash only dive bar, where if you time it right the bartender might be topless when you walk in and she may even stay topless throughout your stay. I hawked craigslist for cash solutions and managed to create $140 cash one night by bussing glasses at a high-fashion photographer party on the Lower East Side. I was glass ninjedi ducking and weaving through a crowd of affluent looking and smelling who's who fashionistas getting shwilled to the gills and texting all their friends about it at the same time.

On quiet suburban Long Island where my parents live all was the same and predictable. I caught a few little squibbly waves, rode my mom's old Schwinn bike 100 miles round trip for an overnight stay at my friends beautiful serene property on the south shore, spread my grandparents ashes in the Long Island sound and then had a swim with them, got my mom on the organic veggie kick which she is loving, and I convinced my good friend Jimmy Broken Legs to ween off his psych meds since thay were doing shit all for his health and only putting money into his doctor's pockets. Oh, I also finally made it out to Montauk and slept on the beach which I feel gave me closure for my long Long Island existence and now I never have to go back again. That was 3 weeks in New York, about all I can handle really, just different vibrations that are not situated in my comfort zone, so I manifested a way out.

Good ol' craigslist strikes again and I was off like a bandit in a Land Rover all the way to San Diego in 56 hours...for free!!!! Hopped out in SD on Sunny Sunday morning and went and got me some real west coast summer fun waves, a real treat after sitting in a car for two days straight.

My spider senses were tingling to not stay in southern California too long as Oregon was beckoning. I swooped Katie the cosmic sunflower and we were off towards the north on an unknown itinerary. We picked up Eli, the Great Mystery School Wizard, in Burbank as he was wanting to head up to Santa Cruz with his surfboard and backpack for some crazy bean and seed sprouting mission. Eli is by far one of the most vibrant souls with an unbreakable smile and always a delight to have around.

On the sly he left this amazing book he started writing I thought by accident but upon further investigation I realized that the book is to be a collaboration of One Mind through different voices and I am the next voice to add to it and then pass it on... He wrote/designed about 30 pages which are quite mind boggling and wisdom filled. I feel honored to be carrying the torch and am excited to see what i will fill the pages with.

We dropped Eli in Santa Cruz after a micro wave sunset session, to be seen again I'm sure. We spent the evening at my couchsurfing friend Stacy's new batcave amazing compound property up the hill a bit and in a forest of its own. A ten person college house that feels like it is in its own microclimate, another treat of the universe indeed.

The next day we blasted off in the van with Stacy to go to the "Filth of July," a rave way the fuck out in the middle of nowhere at the old Hell's Angels property called Angel's Camp...3 days of brain bursting bass, kids from all kinds of planets and galaxies, and we fed fruit, popcorn and oatmeal to as many kids as possible to provide them nourishment. I think I got my fill of electronic music for the next few years...what I learned at Filth of July: Get the fuck off the meadow, or get lifted!!

We left Angel's camp filthy (I had a few black toes) and cruised to Oakland for some decompression and a little botany at my good friend's garden property up on the hill, across from Jack London's old house, overlooking Oakland and SF and the surrounding land. It was a few days of relaxation and a little bit of work for trade, transplanting and other random maintenance (if you haven't guessed yet, my friend grows medical marijuana) and we came up on a couple of ounces to trade/sell along the rest of the route.

Oregon Country Fair outside Eugene, OR was the next stop for some more hippy vibes than the Filth provided. We swooped Terry and Bria, two cosmic souls from craigslist, for the ride up. Since Terry was working at the fair he got us an off-site parking pass which became our camping pass since we have the luxurious 5 star accommodation of the van. We bought tickets the first two days and then clipped bracelets for Sunday and Sunday night.

The deal with OCF is to be a part of the fair family, meaning you work the fair which gives you a bracelet for all access all the time, because at 7pm everyday all the day ticketholders get kicked out and the real fun begins for fair family. So we were rookies at our first fair not knowing shit, but I'll be damned if the OCF isn't one of the most peaceful and love filled settings on this planet...started by a group of hippies in 1969 as a way for doing their own thing for a week and funding it with a legit fair, it has grown into a place where everyone is welcomed with arms outstretched...it felt good as a human being to see this and have hope for the future of our race on this planet...LOVE is flourishing faster than ever.

We jammed out from Eugene with dirty feet headed for the beach and Lincoln City to visit my lovely friends Ross and Rachelle who live a peaceful life in their house on the hill with two dogs and two cats and I'm pretty sure kids will be on the way real soon. We enjoyed a nice civilised dinner cooked indoors and slept in a nice comfortable bed and had real showers, such a treat an ordinary everyday procedure becomes when it is no longer ordinary and everyday. Ross and Rach went to a bed and breakfast for their anniversary the following day so we went down to my personal Zen spot in Gleneden beach where Ross's family has a beach property on a cliff next to the ocean. Nothing like kicking back in the van looking out the window at an endless blue Pacific. We spent a peaceful night and morning at the Zenspot and then booked it for Portland which is where I am now, in the final phase of this leg of this journey.

I am staying with Alexis and her new fiance Aaron at their place right in a funky part of town where their are always characters lurking and quick bike missions around everycorner...speaking of bike missions, I have decided to sell almost everything I own, including Mary Poppin's Purse, to pursue this strange itch I have to live off of my bicycle, free-er than I have been. Call me crazy, I do, but it is what feels right. I made about $300 selling off random stuff (bike tires and wheels, wetsuits, headphones) on ebay, and the van will sell for a thousand bucks, no more no less. I have a djembe which I am finally getting good at and do not want to part with but it is very heavy to be pedalling everywhere so we will see what happens. Within the next few days I hope to be 1,300 bucks richer and pedalling off into some sunset somewhere, bike monk style.

Part of the fun of being on the road with Katie the Cosmic Sunflower for three weeks is that we share the same natural diet so it gave me good training for eating natural, and pretty much vegan, when I am alone. It will be interesting to see what dietary choices I make when I have just pedalled a hundred miles and some kind soul takes me in to their home and has a huge ham roast and strawberry shortcake waiting for me on the table....we shall see. For now I think being vegan is badass, but I think that not putting labels on anything is even cooler, so I'm just saying that I am eating a hundred percent natural and organic so I can live to be 140...ITAL IS VITAL kids.

So now all I own is a bicycle with a trailer, enough clothes to keep warm (and hopefully not stink too much), a small camp stove with pot, cutting board, and utensils, a towel/pillow, a sleeping pad, sleeping bag, and bivvy sac for my dormitory, a ground tarp, a fly tarp, a compass, sunglasses, my bike helmet, steez helmet, a beanie, , toothbrush toothpaste, razor, and soap, flip flops, keen sandals, Vans peace-sign slipons, my Rumi book, and the One Mind book I am to write in, a digital voice recorder, a few CDs with files from my old computer, a small case of markers and pens for drawing on my small pile of scrap paper and random notebook, my cosmic fanny pack, a small Jamaican finger piano/mbira, maybe a djembe, and last but not least, food.

Always carrying sustenance...oatmeal and gruel products for the morning, fruits and veggies and grains (quinoa mostly, maybe some cous cous) for the rest of the day...nothing processed, all natural, the way it was in the Garden of Eden, not the Kitchen of Eden, or the McDonald's of Eden. And I have myself, pure spirit, pedaling through a town near you with a smile and an open heart. Why? Simply because I can and I want to. Namaste motherfuckers! (the motherfucker part is from a cheeky sticker Luke found a few months ago, it goes well with a good sense of humor)