A Return To Davis

It seems our bike adventure is getting cut short. My Grandma is in the hospital, and my Aunt thinks it may not be long until she passes. She’s been sick for months now, ever since a surgery to remove metal rods from her spine. Although the operation went off without a hitch, reactions to pain meds, and pneumonia has kept her bed-ridden for months. So, I’m trying to find a ride to Davis now. It’s looking like my sister will be able to give us a ride tomorrow, and my brother offered to come and get us if nothing else works out.

This coming after we’d already decided to stop bicycling, and start vanning it to Montana, where we hope to get a ride to Maine (or the East Coast) after the National Rainbow Gathering there.
It seems the Universe is conspiring. 

We’ve been in Petaluma for 2 full days now. This is the third. For the first two, we hung out in a little plaza next to the Starbucks (or in the Starbucks), trying to find a ride for us. A man named Sam called back yesterday and offered us a ride from Sacramento to Montana in about 9 days. That leaves some days to spend with my Grandma before going off again.

Pigeon is heading South, and I’ve decided to loan him my bike until we meet again. Perhaps in the Bay after this journey is all over. Thinking about giving him my little backpack too. It’ll be sad to see those things go, but a detachment to objects is one of my lifelong goals, so it’ll be good practice.

This trip has been a lot of things so far, not least a series of learning experiences. Patience, group decision making, personal strength, diet, living without money (or much money, anyway). All of these things pale in comparison to the magic that I’ve felt along the trip. I’ve always been of two minds, and although the rational side is useful most times, I have let the artistic side atrophy over the years. It’s a blessing to be able to practice feeling the world, instead of putting it into boxes. I hope someday to reconcile the two, but am okay with just building them up in different ways, until I find a way to combine the two sensibilities.

And Then There Was One

My remaining comrades have departed, one for Monterey to see her niece and nephew, the other for Santa Cruz. Both seem to prefer to travel alone, and I’m down for that. The time in the last days has passed most peacefully when alone, thoughts filled with the sights that fill my eyes and the sounds that fill my ears. No more stressful scenarios about the impending trip that kept me from sleeping during my time in the dark basement of my father’s home. 

Now that the journey has begun, I think only of where my wheels lie on the road beneath me, and when the sun is beginning to set, where I might sleep for the night. 

I got word from the Occupy Crew last night that they had made it successfully to Santa Cruz, hitching I can only presume. This came after we had blindly passed Half Moon Bay and spent a few hours returning to try and meet up. It was only when we had arrived that I thought to turn on my phone.

Last night, I treated my comrades to a dinner at a fine Indian Restaurant, our first “full” meal in days. The only contention the amount of money that I was spending, regardless of my entreaties  to not worry about it. My money – my choice.

Thank you Sara for reminding me that magic does still exist in our universe. Thank you Cody for giving me faith in the power of healing. Thank you Samson for being ever watchful, however unnecessary, barking at ghosts and potential threats alike.

Thank you all for reading. If you see me riding on the side of Highway One, please feel free to honk and say ‘sup.