we are here now, in the midst of it all

day one. the shift begins. the changing from day to night. something grand at least. a different light cast down upon my earth. i rush to clean the shower, empty out the shelves, clip the nails {though not saving them in the jar, as i decided to cease the habit at least for the summer...room is limited when your life is on your bike...we'll see about its reinstatement.} other little things. making sure nothing was forgotten, though i'm sure things were.

"i love you mom and dad. yes, i'll be safe...thank you for the compliments."

a visit to the bank. saying farewell to a home that has been my sanctuary for two years. oh, dear nautical {yes the room feels boatlike} room of mine, i thank you for the warmth {not literally as it was not heated being an old converted porch} and the comfort. i say goodbye to a time, and feel much less nostalgia and emotion than i expected. perhaps this new adventure is simply so life changing and full of giant things, that the transition itself is fluid like water. no white caps live amonst these oceans and mountains. hearts. i bid keri adieu on the phone, my brain drifting into the pain that new love can cause old love. i have refrained from writing about her here for so long now, to protect the old love and the notion of privacy, and because some things are sacred. some things feels indescribable. but i feel sad that i cannot hear her voice as often as i'd like, as the veil falls. day one.

so i step outside to meet the bags at the bottom of the stairs that will miraculously live on my bike for the next 3? months.

two men stand at a truck chatting and ask where i'm headed. maine. maine. maine maine maine maine maine. i don't think that the reality of the distance, or the physical difficulty, or the time have really set in yet, but they will, i'm sure of it.

and then i am at the north berkeley bart station, speaking to the australian guys.

"maine," i say.

the immediate bond between travellers is wildly beautiful. reminds me of how open and unafraid humans can be. willing to engage with strangers, and let them see at least some small part of our souls, which so many of us conceal so much of, so much of the time.

the golden gate bridge is miraculous. living here, we forget such things. i stand in wonderment at its arresting beauty. somehow, this structure of metal feels so natural there in the sky. this example of human creativity and extremely hard work. as i ride across narrowly avoiding the tourists taking photos, i stop often to look back at the city, and down at the water. somehow, though much higher, riding across this bridge is much less terrifying than walking across the granville st. bridge in vancouver. yes, there is something absolutely TERRIFYING about walking across that bridge. keri and i would stop again and again to look over, that strange human impulse of pushing ourselves back into the most difficult of moments. fear of heights, and the possibilty that one could indeed plummet, a sack of weight, to the water below.

lunch in sausalito, with the porsches, and fancy shops. i treat myself to a cappuccino from cafe trieste. sometimes, i miss coffee so dearly.

i ride and ride. breaking through into the hills and the redwood trees lining the road. i stop for an ice cream sandwich, and to smell the smells. hikers walk gingerly down the dirt into samuel p. taylor state park. then olema. my road comes to a dead end and i turn right. then left. bear valley road. and another left. the sing says "limantour-8 miles."

and then i am fucked. riding uphill, the legs so so so so tired from the extra weight of the panniers. up up up up up. i call mike to make sure i'm not lost, as these hills simply are not going well, but the service on my phone is gone. i stop to rest far too often. i run out of water. shit.

and finally i am there. sky camp trailhead. at the entrance of the trail, is a red card on the ground with a drawing of a bicycle and the words thegreatsitting.com. i had not seen this yet, and my heart leaps as i love it so. thank you keri. we have already passed out fifteen? wow. the joy and beauty in this is stunning to me.

and then i push my heavy heavy heavy bike up this 1.2 mile long gravel and dirt path, cussing and cussing. whose fucking idea was this? mike. let me just say, that it is AMAZINGLY difficult to push a bike, loaded with gear up such a hill. really, really, really fucking hard. and the lower back agrees in case you were wondering.

we set up camp, share the details of our packing tecniques, and head off on the unloaded bikes to the beach. a cold and hilly ride as the sun sets. we splash the water on our faces, and laugh at the fact that the next time we will see the ocean, we will be facing the other way. east. the atlantic. we ride back, watching the moon break the sky as the sun descends over the ocean. we walk the hill {much easier without the weight} and make dinner. gnocchi and pasta. our desert {kristina made brownies} have been devoured by an animal {a terribly efficient animal} of some sort. we sit and talk a bit, then sleep. i toss and turn, dreaming the most vivid dreams i've had in some time. i think about what i feel at the moment and conclude it is too much to decipher at the moment. too many places of my heart flying and floating and spinning. soaring. moving off to a new life.

we now sit outside some cafe in point reyes station, and have miraculously found ourselves online via the airport. {the computer did it on its own!?!#@?#?!?}

today, we ride back to santa rosa to finish last minute things on mike's house, things which neither of us want to do, but must be done.

day two. we are here now, in the midst of it all. the great sitting.
i welcome thee.

Posted by jeff pitcher at June 2, 2004 12:36 PM

....................................