4-20-2017 Day 8. Reality Hits.

April 20, 2017

Day 8

Balmorhea, Tx

Balmorhea State Park

Miles driven: 1,180

Currently Reading: The Economist

Currently listening to: NPR – Bob Dylan special

Reality Hits.

About a year ago, I had a conversation with a friend of mine about how cool it would be to travel the world and work as a travel journalist.  What a dream, I thought at the time.  It represented freedom from the perpetual routine that I lived day-to-day.  No more boss (although I have always had excellent bosses).  No more alarm clock.  No more weekly meal prepping.  No more of the same social situations, the same conversations shared at the same bar top with the same people.  I would be just like the heroic historical figures I have idolized throughout my life.  Kerouac, Hemmingway, Twain, these fellow adventurers would be my inspiration as I explored this great world. The thought of being able to go anywhere at any time without considering anything other than where I would get my next meal or go to sleep at night was intoxicating. 

It took me eight days to really appreciate both the challenges and the benefits of this newly adopted life.  Suddenly, I was not on vacation with a list of to-dos waiting for me when I returned.  I didn’t have an apartment to clean or friends to share a beer and a laugh with after a week on the road.  It was, as I initially planned, a diametric shift in lifestyle, mindset and focus.  And it is a life that I am utterly unprepared for.

Suddenly, nothing is easy.  The simplest tasks in a “normal” life become a gargantuan challenge that takes careful planning and precise execution.  What do you do when your dog runs out of food and there are no stores within 50 miles with dog food?  Obviously, the dog shares the can of corned beef.  What do you do when you need an address to check into a motel?  Well, I just made one up.  Where do you shower?  Where do you charge your electronics?  And lastly, what the hell do you do to financially sustain this new lifestyle?  Well that one I haven’t quite figured out yet.  Currently, I just live as frugally as possible and pray to God that my insight in these travels will be interesting enough for a publisher to print. 

But that’s the freakin point.

My father taught me a lot of things growing up, but there was no greater lesson than this: Always be self-reliant.  Whether in education, business, relationships or personal integrity, he always taught me that those decisions were completely in my hands and I was the master of my own fate.  If I am to survive this life, I sure better figure out how to do it myself and not expect anything from anyone because help may not always be there.

The reality finally hit me today.  There is no safety net.  There are no more deadlines.  The only structure is what I discipline in myself.  Everything is completely reliant on me.  It is the biggest challenge I have ever faced and I couldn’t be happier.  If the greatest lesson is to become self-reliant, then this pathway will prove just that.

And last night, after drinking beers and shooting pool with a bunch of locals in Balmorhea, I took Boss on a midnight walk.  The stars, in all their magnificence, brightened our way as we sauntered past the natural spring that traverses this town.  As Boss claimed his territory and I listened to the babbling of the passing stream, I thought, “if this is the pathway to true self-reliance, despite the challenges that I have no clue how to overcome yet, it sure is a pretty one.”

4-17-2017 Day 5. Fear.

April 17, 2017

Day 5

Ft. Davis, Tx

Davis Mountain National Park

Miles driven: 1,160

Currently Reading: Travels with Charley by John Steinbeck

Currently listening to: The clatter of a small town laundromat cleaning my clothes.

Fear.

It was just after dawn when the birds began chirping and the rustling of wildlife broke the silence of the night.  The air was cool and dry, but drops of dew beaded across the top of my rain fly.  My eyes groggily half opened and I took in the morning symphony that only the wilderness can provide.  I smiled, closed my eyes and continued to snooze; I was in no hurry to do anything.

Boss however was experiencing a completely different morning that myself.  Being a dog from the city, he hadn’t quite gotten adjusted to the lack of rules.  There were no sidewalks. There were no dog parks. There were no homeless people affirming his greatness wherever he went.  He was, to say the least, uncomfortable.

He perched at my side, ears up, surveying the strange noises coming from outside the tent.  Suddenly, we could both hear something walking around outside of the tent.  Boss immediately went into tense mode.  His ears pointed, the hair on his neck stood up and he focused intently on what was walking around the tent outside.  I could feel the rumble of a growl coming from deep inside of him. I tried to calm him, but to no avail.

The rustles grew closer, they seemed to be circling around the tent.  Every so often there would be a squeal or a screech, something I couldn’t identify, but wasn’t worried about.  After about 5 minutes of this terrible monster digging around, Boss couldn’t take it anymore.  He went completely from aggressive attention to pure fear.  He began to shake and whimper as this beast continued to circle the tent.  I wasn’t ready to get up, so I grabbed him, pulled him inside the sleeping bag and held him close, trying to calm his fear.  After a while, he finally calmed down and went back to sleep.

About an hour later, I was ready to get up and face the day.  We hopped out of the tent and went to make breakfast of granola and tea and read for a few hours.  While I was reading, I heard that same rustling sound, followed by that screechy-squeal.  I looked up from my book and saw, about 20 yards away, a young bluebird about 4 inches tall, rustling around for insects and trying to signal his mom with his undeveloped voice.

I took a moment to laugh.  But I only laughed for a moment because I too am familiar with the terror of the unknown.  Sometimes we can make something into a bigger monster than it really it.  As a kid, I was afraid of the shadows drifting across my walls at night or the hum of the ancient radiator at my great-grandmother’s farmhouse.  They terrified me to my core, but only because I didn’t understand them.

In life, we come across a lot of things that frighten us.  Usually these things are only scary because they are the unknown.  The fear of the unknown can paralyze you to your core, but it is not always rational.  I would say, the next time doing something scares you—whether it be getting a new job, talking to that person you have always liked or even just taking a step outside of your comfort zone—take a minute and think if your fear is real or just in your head.  Overcoming fears is a great step to evolving as a human being and usually they are about as harmful as a little squeaky baby bird.

4-15-2017 Day 3. Softness.

April 15, 2017

Day 3

Just outside Lubbock, Tx

Currently reading: Travels with Charley, By John Steinbeck

Currently listening to: This American Life podcast.

Softness.

This day was like being wrapped in a warm comforter on a cold winter day.  Everything about it was comfortable and soft and, like being wrapped in a warm comforter on a cold winter day, I never wanted it to end. 

I started out in a cheap, seedy motel on the highway in Lubbock, Tx.  They were charging me $66 a night to stay there and I thought to myself, “I can do better.”

So Boss and I split and drove around the city for a while.  It was quaint, it was country… It was Lubbock.  I find it heartening to know that some don’t really change too much, despite the passing of time.  Lubbock is still pretty much the same place I left about a decade ago.  Still lacking in modernism and still full of west Texas charm.

But I have been to cities before, it was time to press into the unknown.

About 10 miles outside of Lubbock, Tx is the Buffalo Springs Lake reservoir.  I had never heard of it while I was a student here, but I sure wish I had.  Yes, it had the normal tourist trash that accompany any organized travel destination, but we were savvy enough to find an empty spot, up on the mesa away from the gen-pop garbage packed into their RVs, chugging miller lites and thinking questionable things about their cousins.

The sun was warm and there was a breeze that kept the mosquitos away.  Boss and I sat outside for hours, basking in the sun, listening to the boats and jet-skis muscle by on the reservoir below.  It was nearly perfect. 

At dusk, we went for a walk.  We toured for a few miles across the reservoir and into the dense vegetation below.  We were walking back and I saw two tiny little flowers growing up alongside the highway.  They were beautiful and perfect; simple and soft like the day was today.  I stopped to take a photograph as a few cars filled with fisherman rushed past.

But the breeze was too much and I couldn’t get a good shot of the flowers.  They just kept on fluttering in the wind.  I tried to hold onto the stem, but even though the bottom half of the flower was stationary, the flowers still swayed in the wind, making it impossible to take a clear picture.

People are so very similar to these tiny little flowers that sit on the side of the road.  We, as humans, are constantly growing on the highway of life as countless people pass us by on their own journey.  We all try and grow as brightly as we can, no matter our situation.  And we are beautiful.  And we are perfect.

The challenge comes when someone else enters into the picture.  Here we are, growing the best we can, and someone comes in with their own agenda and tries to get us to fit into their reality.  They see the beauty of ourselves and are drawn toward us. But, no matter how they try, we are just flowers on the side of the road, blowing in the wind.  Nothing they can do will ever change who we are or how we experience life.  And they will never be able to get a picture.

So the metaphor is this:  Be happy to be a flower on the side of the road as countless people pass you by on their own journey.  Be soft and perfect, because that is what you do best.  One day, someone might come by and see you for your beauty and instead of trying to force a picture of you, they will just sit down next to you and make sure you have enough water to drink and don’t get too much sun.  These people, the ones who just sit next to you and help you grow, these are the people worth keeping.

4-13-2017 Day 1. Go.

April 13, 2017

Day 1

Lubbock, Tx

Currently reading: Lubbock Avalanche-Journal

Currently Listening to: Trucks passing by on the highway

Go.

It was a calm cloudy Wednesday at my parent’s house just outside of Denton.  I had been preparing for this trip by methodically inventorying all my gear and testing out the equipment in the front yard for the past couple days.  I had just gotten back from the dentist and was getting ready to have an afternoon snack and perhaps a nap.  Life at Momma’s house is pretty easy.

As I was folding my freshly-washed backpacking clothes, a small tiny voice erupted from inside of me.  It whispered, ever so softly, “now.”  Upon hearing that “now,” I was filled with fire that shot through my veins; for some reason I knew it was time to go.  I was as ready as I would ever be and any more time sitting at Mom’s house would be delaying the inevitable.  It was time.

Suddenly I was packing everything into the car.  Trip after trip, the car got fuller and fuller.  My mom watched, perplexed by my back-and-forths to the car.

“Are you leaving?” She asked as she stirred a pan of sizzling onions and garlic.

“It’s time momma.” I said as I packed up the last couple of items into my Jeep.

She walked me out to the car.  The dogs barked and wagged their tails as we all said our goodbyes.  I hugged mom, a few tears dropped from my eyes; I wouldn’t see her again for several months.

And then we left.  I watched as she disappeared into the horizon as I drove off the ranch.  One last tear fell out as I turned onto the highway and pointed my car west.  But from there, my eyes steeled onto the road.  The setting sun painted the Texas skyline with a lavender hue that stretched off into infinity.

Then the rain came.  It started pouring as I drove northwest toward Lubbock.  We hugged the road and battled forward, like a pirate ship dashing through a summer storm; we pressed onward.  Town after town melted away as we got deeper into west Texas.  The lightning crashed overhead and the rain came down in buckets.  Boss slept in the front seat, unconcerned with the tumultuous weather outside; but he is used to these kinds of things.

We finally pulled into Lubbock, Texas, the home of my alma mater, Texas Tech.  We stopped at a seedy motel off the highway and quickly checked into our room: 314.  Pi room, I dubbed it, reminiscing on almost a decade ago when I was a bright-eyed engineering student.

Soaked from the rain, we piled into the room and quickly fell asleep in the cheap, yellow-tinted box that opened onto the highway.  This was the first, but wouldn’t be the last cheap motel that we would stay in on this trip.  Tomorrow would bring new adventures.