Three Days

Sunday Hike
Originally uploaded by jenworth.

Yup, It's been three days without coffee. And kinda without sugar (had maple syrup, and a Clif Bar). Been a little fuzzybrained in the morning, and miss the coffee ritual. But really, it's the sugar thing. NO CHOCOLATE!
Why the hell am I doing this, again? It's not so bad when I'm not in a craving moment.

The photo above is from The Sunday Hike. Went to Sunol again. Smaller hike, but weather loomed. We saw pissed off cows, and for a second, thought they were gonna come after us.

Survived Christmas. Not a fan of the holiday, at all. Went to the in-laws for brunch. Not bad this year. Good waffles, bad carb coma.
Got in a nap AND a small hike in Wildcat Canyon.

I have four days off! Crazy! Plans include lots of extra time at the gym, hitting the slackline, and getting some stuff taken care of around the house. Nothing too exciting, which is exactly what I need.

By the time I go back to work, I should be a little less fuzzy and cranky without my vices.

Boxing Girls

Boxing Girls
Originally uploaded by jenworth.

When I'm not at work, I'm at the gym. Here's A photo of some of the Ladies Who Box, taken after boxing class.

On my left is my pal Natalie, who has also been my climbing partner. This photo was taken on Nat's last night in Berkeley. We sparred and beat the shit out of each other, but she really kicked my ass.

Nat's moving to Bend, OR. Bummer.

Heavy

Whoa. The next evening after writing this, yesterday's thought seems so heavy. All true, but the words dragged like heavy weights. Yesterday was a miserable shade of blue, a funk-and-a-half. There's a reason my mood was so extreme, I think. I've noticed this the past two Mondays. No, I don't hate Mondays any more than the average person. It's what I do to myself on Sundays. Even though I've been getting in some good hikes, I've been overindulging, in spades, in my three favorite vices: Coffee, Sugar and KGB. Probably not hydrating in any way that compensates for the vices. I feel great on Sunday, come Monday, I feel like ass. Sluggish. Foggy. Cranky. Moody as hell. (Doesn't help that at Chiat on Mondays there's always lots of junk food.)

So....

My present to myself is to give up coffee and sugar starting in Christmas day. Yeah, like four days from now. (I say this as I'm sitting here munching cinnamon-sugar covered almonds!) I'm determined.

STOP LAUGHING!!!

It may not be forever. It may be just until The Evil Duo and I can co-exist in a more moderate way. Until the cravings stop. Until their grips are loosened. Until both can be considered a treat, rather than a staple.

(Just to complicate things, I'm considering going back to being vegan, too.)

Stuck Inside

Looking Out
Originally uploaded by jenworth.

I'm losing my grip. By all accounts I "should" be happy. Aside from working too much, it appears that life is good.

It's not. It's stagnant.

I have decisions to make. But each decision is like a piece of a puzzle. Until "x" piece gets put in place, "y" piece cannot be found and put into it's proper spot. Life isn't as simple as this though, not as obvious, more emotional.

It's more like dominoes. One decision could put into place a whole wave of movement. Or a topple. Change will be guaranteed, and that's the only guarantee. Change. I need it, fear it, loathe it, but it desperately needs to come. One little change, or a whole lot of change. Not sure which.

It could be the season. Or it might not be. I recall last Christmas I had realizations that wound up being life changing.

Happy Solstice.

Hikey Sunday

Sunol Regional Wilderness
Originally uploaded by jenworth.

Pulled off another Sunday Hike! This one was in the Sunol Regional Wilderness in the East Bay. Close to home, and really beautiful! Did some rock scrambling in the stream, got up close to cows and talked to them, and breathed fresh air. So good for my mental health!

A Bit of Nature....

God Rays
Originally uploaded by jenworth.

I've been workin' like a crazyfool. I'm bone tired. No really, I swear my bones ache from being so exhausted. I'm getting cranky and forgetful.

But! I had a bit of downtime this past weekend and I got out in nature. It's unbelievable how much that helps my mental health.

I went out to Point Reyes Lighthouse. It's quite a drive out there on pretty, winding roads. The lighthouse itself seems to be at the edge of the earth, it's so remote.

I got some good shots of the lighthouse, but I liked the contrast in this photo: the light versus dark, the stillness and the movement as well as the expansiveness of it all.

On a lighter note...

Milo
Originally uploaded by jenworth.

After that heavy post below, I just wanted to post a picture of Mr. Cuteness, aka Milo.

He's the reason I'm working so damn much. He's on some damn expensive meds, but they're making him feel better. And that's worth every penny, especially when you consider that three months ago I thought he had cancer and had a month to live.

To see Milo bounding like a puppy and his ears flopping in the wind makes it all worthwhile.

The Dilemma

It's the typical soul-searching conundrum. Except recently I'm living it, day after day, week after week.

What do I "do"? Work-wise, that is. Do I do work that is high-paying, but holds little little value or meaning to me? Or do I pursue work that feels more in-line with my own values, work that I find more "fun", yet pays very little? This is my dilemma.

My work week has grown to include every day of the week, and it couldn't be more different beginning to end. Every Monday morning I begin by commuting to San Francisco. It's not a long distance, it's the sitting in traffic that wears on me. I've returned to my former profession of Art Producing, working in an ad agency. These days I'm working three days a week producing photo shoots for Adidas.
In the past, I've produced for everything from Sega to Levi's. No one company, or even one ad agency, makes this work unbearable. The agency I'm working at has some nice people working there. What bothers me about this is that while I'm good at this, I don't derive a sense of accomplishment, of meaning, of satisfaction from the work. I don't look at a slick ad, and feel a sense of pleasure knowing I worked on the campaign. I see the finished product and think, "Glad that one's over....". I've chosen to trade a high hourly rate for an hour of my time. I need money right now. The work itself isn't bad. It's just that I find myself gazing at the clock, hoping that Wednesday (the end of my week in advertising) is an hour closer. It's the last minute nature of everything, sometimes it the egos, or it's the sense of frustration of having spent two weeks working on something and having the project killed at the last moment. Advertising isn't evil, though I have been known to complain that it is, not any more so than any other profession. A Friend Who Is Wise pointed out that there's lack of communication, overabundance of egos, and all the drama in most offices. And at least in advertising, I can dress however the heck I want and it's all part of being "creative'. Levi's aren't evil, nor are shoes, video games or any other product. Perhaps it's the pushing of consumerism. Of a lifestyle one should strive for. Advertising, to me, seems less about providing information about a product and more about selling a lifestyle. I mean, it's crazy the research that goes into how to reach a target market, how to speak to teens, what a homemaker really wants, and yet, that's not inherently bad either. It must be me. It's not a good fit. I don't get excited about working on a project, I won't easily hand over extra hours of my life that is needed in this business. It's a very conscious decision to dip my toes back into a high paying field which I purposefully left behind.

The latter part of my week is working at REI. Yep, a job in retail. A job that pays slightly over minimum wage. A job where my weekly paycheck equals that of working two or three hours in advertising. REI is a cool company, one where they are commited to the environment, to social responsibility, to their employees. The company motto is "work hard, play hard" not "work hard, work long and hope for a promotion". The people at REI are interesting, and interested in the outdoors. I can talk backpacking and climbing with my co-workers, compare notes on gear, hear about trips, and learn about things I'm truly interested in. Heck, I learn stuff from my 18 year old co-workers all the time. Where else does that happen? The egos are in check, the social hierarchies are missing, and people hang out in the break room talking politics and snoaboarding. It just _feels_ better to me, like these are my people. Sure, there's bound to be work place politics here and there, that happens any time you have more than two employees anywhere. But the management is committed to making it a fun place to work, they want feedback. And check this out: my employee orientation involved going for a hike. The store manager even came along to meet the new folks. It's an inclusive environment. Sure, one could argue, I'm selling stuff just like in advertising, but I feel better about it. I'm involved in selling stuff that helps people get outdoors and have a fun and safe time doing so.

So do I keep doing lucrative work that I find personally meaningless with people I don't necessarily connect with? The upside is I could work less and have more money. I'll leave out the "prestige" factor, the notion my mom feels that this kind of "career" holds more value than being a retail jockey at REI. Or do I do what feels better to my soul, but earns far less and therefore requires more of my time to earn the same kind of money?

I don't have the answer, yet. I only know that I can't keep doing both and working 55+ hours a week, every single day of the week. A choice will need to be made in the near future. I know this is an age-old dilemma, but it's my day to day existence right now.

Anyone reading this, feel free to ring in with whatever thoughts come to mind.

Dig Deep

"C'mon! Dig Deep! It's only three minutes of your day, you can do it!"

Those were the words to the class from our spin instructor yesterday morning. There we were, a small group of five, taking a spin class at six in the morning. Now we're being asked to "climb" hills at fifty percent resistance. For those who've never taken a spin class, this is akin to climbing a very steep hill and giving it your all.

But it was those two words, "dig deep", that got me thinking.

Dig deep. What does it mean? To challenge yourself, push yourself harder than you think is possible. Sure, sometimes. Where does one dig deeply into? One's inner reserve, a place which often goes untapped in many people, people who quit when things get tough. But really, how does one determine to dig deep? It's really a mental challenge, in my experience. I'm not just talking about an exercise class, either. There are days where I "dig deep" and I'm surprised by the reservoir of energy and determination I find to continue on with whatever challenge is in front of me. I can peddle harder and faster, hike uphill for miles and hours, make a scary move on the crux of a pitch, or stick out a work situation that is pretty hideous. But there are also the days where I'm a complete whining wuss. I can't peddle all-out for a minute; my body might be capable if pushed, but the brain declines to do the pushing. There are days where I'm wiped out to the point of being non-verbal. I've bailed from a climb by getting too sketched out on the crux: even if I could get my body to work through searing pain and make the move, my brain is telling my body, "You're not going anywhere".

I'm fascinated by the concept of pushing one's self. To summit or scrape over that mental hump that tells me "you can't do this". Intrigued by the ease one day and the impossibility the next. How does one build mental stamina? It's not like a muscle where enough repetitions will strengthen the mind. Or is it? If one reaches in and is repeatedly surprised by what can be accomplished with a little extra determination, does that lead to a greater ability to have the mental fortitude of tapping those reserves? Does one need to have a reserve to dig deep? Or can you dig, come up against nothing, and still have the energy to try again and again?

Does it boil down to a personality type? Is it about being stubborn?

Let's use bouldering as an example, shall we? I've watched people make a half-hearted effort on a problem, make a couple moves and fail, and then quit. Walk away. Done. Then I've observed other people work a problem until sore and fingers bleeding and still not have worked it out. They're determined to try again tomorrow. What's the difference? Is it desire? Determination? Inner resolve? Hard headedness? What? What is it? And furthermore, why can it be there one day, and not the next?

I don't have the answers. If anything, all I have is more questions. Currently, I find myself digging deep every morning I wake up. I'm working day after day without time off, trying to squeeze in the gym, sitting in two hours of traffic each day, and trying to keep it all together. These past few days, I've noticed it's becoming increasingly difficult, because my reserves are low. I'm tired, exhausted even. With what needs to happen in 24 hours, sleep is what gets whittled away. As such, my reserves are getting low, my body achy, my mind not as sharp, and my nerves a bit shot. And yet, this is how most Americans live. Why is that? Oh jeez, this is getting off on another tangent alltogether; maybe a topic for another time. But all I can say is when Courtenay asks us to dig deeper, if only for three minutes, if one isn't feeling centered or taking good care of one's self, it's a lot more challenging to dig. And even more frustrating to come up against zero.

Caught on Film....Finally!

The Elusive Justine
Originally uploaded by jenworth.

Why blog this?

Because this was a near miracle, getting this photo. I've been friends with Justine for years. She's one of my favorite people and closest friends. Until today, I think she's allowed me to take her picture once before without freaking out. Go figure, she's cute, so why wouldn't she let herself be captured on film? (She has no soul already, she works in advertising.) She finally relented to the camera.

People have often been surprised to hear we're close friends, apparently because we seem completely opposite, at least based on appearances. She may be pink-n-girlie but Justine is one rad chick, more so than she knows.

Happy Climber Jen

Gym Climb
Originally uploaded by jenworth.

Climbing makes me happy. There's few activities that give me the happy buzz climbing provides. Climbing works the body in ways that only climbing can. Asymmetrically. Reach-y. And at times, like a Gorilla.

I've started climbing regularly again. Okay, so it's indoors on plastic. I'm not in the Valley anymore, and it's winter, so I'll take what I can get. Indoor bouldering is completely unlike bouldering outdoors, but it's still fun! Ropin' up is fun when you climb with people you can actually learn stuff from.

Climbing has perked me up in a way pot of coffee can't. Just need to be careful with the shoulder injury and not be dumb. That's what sidelined my climbing in Yosemite; bouldering without rest days.

I'll rest today and climb tomorrow.

Crankypants Rant

Traffic on 80
Originally uploaded by jenworth.

Voila, above is the story of my life. I waste entirely too much of each day, of my life, sitting in traffic. The Bay Area simply has too many people; pretty soon I'm gonna give up my place to the next chump who wants to enjoy the views from their vehicle.

Seriously, I must spend an hour and a half of each day in traffic. Going to the gym can take nearly a half hour to go seven miles. Need to go to San Francisco? Better give yourself an hour, just in case. Sure, it's 16 miles door-to-door, but much hell can ensue in those sixteen miles of asphalt.

I love many things about the Bay Area. It's diverse, progressive, has great coffee, food, rad climbing gyms, and some of my favorite people. However, I've had enough. Enough sitting in traffic. Enough talking on the phone and listening to music in the car. Enough bother.

I was amazed that Highway 80 elsewhere isn't the snarled mess I have come to know through the Bay Area. It's gonna be that wide open stretch of 80 I take when I head on outta here and find myself a new place to call home, a place where "commute" isn't synonymous with "endlessly sitting in traffic".

Dude! It's Snow!

South of Jackson, WY
Originally uploaded by jenworth.

This photo was taken south of Jackson and north of Alpine in Wyoming. This was a gorgeous morning after the night of misery when the Stud Mobile's pump went wonky.

Wacky Woofers

wackywoofers
Originally uploaded by jenworth.

Wahoo! We all passed! Here's a group of new Woofers meeting up after the testing to refuel our brains before heading out of town.

Lessee, L to R is Arnold, Jay, Lauren, Chuck, Jackie, Jeff, me, Jake and Luke.

Missing Yosemite

Jen and Heather in BT
Originally uploaded by jenworth.

Sortin' through photos, I found this one DickBill took on my last night living in the Valley.

Homesick

I'm feeling really homesick for Yosemite.

Last night I went to Berkeley Ironworks, the local climbing gym. I got there early to boulder. I hadn't been climbing much at all, maybe three times since leaving the Valley. It felt really good to be climbing, even if it was just plastic. I was bouldering to kill time, the real reason I was there because there was going to be a slide show of climbing in the Valley by Chris Van Leuven. I knew Chris from my nightly 'patrols' through Boystown. He'd been working on the slideshow throughout the summer, and I'd seen bits and pieces here and there; I was looking forward to seeing the finished product.

Not only did Chris show his show, but Ammon showed his slideshow, too. It was from his summer in the Valley, but also had some cool stuff with his kid, Austin, in it, too. What a treat! Two totally different sets of images, of perspectives.

Seeing the rock, the falls, and familiar faces made me sigh with a reminder of how much I miss that place. It's got some grip on me. Not just the majestic park, but the simplicity of life there. The vitality of the people. I know I'm not done with Yosemite yet. I wonder what's in store next.

Note to self: get up there again, soon, dammit.

Purple Pisswater

Each dog gets walked twice a day. A mile each time. On a set route; the purpose of this seemingly boring routine is to know where the 'problems' might be, say, an aggressive dog that frequently gets loose, broken glass on the sidewalk, random shit that could spell trouble. Oh, and each dog gets walked individually. So for the walking human, that's about four miles a day and an hour of dog walking.

Why am I mentioning this?

Because last night I was walking Luna at dusk. It was the last walk of the day, and Milo had already been walked. I was spacing out and mulling stuff over in my head. I was thinking about how Milo's kidney infection has returned. It makes me sad, because I wish there was more I could do to help speed his recovery.

"I'd drink purple pisswater if I knew it would make Milo better".

Where the hell did THAT thought come from?!? No kidding, that popped into my head. I guess it's because I'm considering something that some would find equally wack.

I'm considering using an Animal Communicator and Healer to see what's up. Yeah, don't go calling the Funny Farm just yet.

My chiropractor, Margy, is an amazing person and healer. She's also an animal chiropractor. One day I'm on the table getting my shoulder put back into place, and she tells me how she's been working with an Animal Communicator. Being a dog trainer, an animal buff, and generally open-minded, I'm intrigued. Margy tells me more, about how this woman has communicated with a dog who had stomach staples which were causing pain; when The Communicator brough the dog to the vet, the vet said there was no way there were metal staples, that only sutures could have been used to close the surgical site. Upon opening the dog, sure enough, there were metal staples. Margy's not a wack job, and she was seriously impressed by this woman. I ponder how talking to a dog might help behavioral issues, and a client with Separation Anxiety comes to mind. Margy tells me more and I get The Communicator's number.

Yesterday before Luna's walk, I talked to the Animal Communicator. She's not some woo-woo-new-age-freak right off the bat, so we talk. We had a nice conversation, and she told me about some of her dogs and how they've lived extraordinarily long because she was able to talk with them and help them as health stuff came up. She also does medical chi gung on the animals, working to resolve imbalances. Okay, this sound a little much, but I'm still open minded. Some people don't believe Echinacea works. I do. Others believe that acupuncture is ineffective. I'm a big believer it works. Some believe you can communicate with animals. I'm not so sure.

Hey, I've thrown money away in more stupid ways than trying to get my dog well. I've done far, far stupider things. These dumb moves come readily to mind. I've already gone to an acupuncturist for my dog, Milo, and some might think that's just plain hogwash. So, really, is this so far out there? Possibly yes. But isn't it kind of exciting to know what one's dog might say? "Hey, lady, I want 300-thread-count sheets, not these cheap-o 200-count. It's tough work holding down this bed all day." Or, "Can you please take me backpacking?"

It's not like I have unlimited funds to cover all these pet medical bills. Money's super tight these days. But the idea that there could be information to be gleaned that could help his recovery is the lure. I'd do anything for my Little Guy. This just proves it. I'm seriously considering this. I'm not nuts, but I guess this would slot me as a truly fanatical dog mom. And at least it'd be better than drinking purple pisswater.

Bong Hits for Breakfast

That's what I wanted to call yesterday's post-I-never-made. It was apropos. Waking up to the grim news of four more years, there had to be some way to numb that horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. Four more years, sure, but something tells me the damage from those four years may reverberate for years to follow. I know I can kiss any hope of Social Security goodbye, what with a "war" that "needs" to be fought. I'll shut up. I'm sure nearly every blog going had a post yesterday about the election or the resulting disappointment. I guess I'll go slide into a comfortable state of apathy and make like an ostrich.

I'm baaaaackkk........

Yeah, I suck. I'm back from the road trip. I didn't post as regularly as I would've hoped, mostly because the course left little free time. I managed to feed myself and study each evening after class. Sometimes I even pulled off a shower.
I didn't exercise. Depending on where we camped, the satellite dish wouldn't work.

Yet the class was an awesome experience. We had super instructors. I met some cool people from all over. It was intense in that full-immersion kind of way. I'm now a "woofer", a Wilderness First Responder. I packed an amazing amount of info into my head, and wasn't sure at times if I could pull it off. Yet I did. Both Dharma-J and I aced the finals.

Whew! Guess I haven't killed all those brain cells after all.

I'll post more about it all, but suffice it to say, I'm back early. The road trip after the class didn't happen. The Stud Mobile turned out to be less studly than expected. Who knew you can't pump veggie oil in sub-freezing temps? After the class finished, we headed to Jackson, WY to score oil. Score we did, except it was the consistency of a tar pit. Shall I mention we tried to pump in the middle of a snow storm and that the electrical outlet for the pump had a freakout and short-circuited? As that expression which I so despise goes: "Good times!"

I flew out of Salt Lake City on Sunday night. Before leaving for the airport, I told Jay I needed extra time there because I was certain I'd be picked for additional screening, since I look like a threat to society. Self fulfilling prophecy? Perhaps. I was selected not once, but TWICE, for "random" screenings. I had my bags, which had been carefully packed and crammed full as only a backpacker can do, unpacked and the contents sifted through by grouchy old men and perky blondes. Upon being satisfied that I was merely a freak and not a terrorist, one of the screener dudes made a half-assed attempt at re-packing my bag. I looked at him skeptically and he said, "Would you rather do this?" I told him since he unpacked the bag, he could re-pack it. When it was clear my stuff would never fit with this guy doing the push and shove, I did it myself.

Good times.

(Don't even get me going about the election BS. I'm going to bed and hope to hide for the next four years. New Zealand, anyone?)

And So It Goes

"Hi, my name is Jen. I have medical training, can I help you?"

This is what one says to a patient when approaching, to gain consent to treat. This is what ran through my brain last night while sleeping. This sentence. Over and over and over....

Let's just say this class is freakin' intense. So intense I don't have time to elaborate right now. Endless three letter acronyms were drilled into my head on Day 1. Patient assessments. SOAP notes. And more. All must be learned. Not learned in the "I have a test soon, and must memorize this for the test" sort of way I got through high school, but more in the "This could save someone's life, and this information must be ingrained in a cellular sort of way". That's some pressure there, huh?

Day 2 was CPR. But first, I got to play the "patient" and have my classmates find me, assess my (moulaged) injuries and then go painfully step-by-step through what we learned yesterday of the Patient Assessment System. All the while, I was lying in three inches of snow and snow still falling. I was adequately dressed for the wet, but not for the cold despite numerous layers. (Call me a wussy California girl, I guess.) No Gore-Tex boots, so the feet took hours to warm up afterwards.

Okay, back to studying.....

Yee-Haw!

I'm sitting in Lander's Laundrymat (sic). Jay's taking a phone call, so I'm stuck here doing our laundry while tinny country music croons from speakers unseen. I'd likely tear them down if I could find them; I hate country music. I hate laundromats, too. I'm allergic to them, all the dust, soap and mildew. This one's no exception. My eyes are itchy and my nose stuffy from the deuling scents of Tide and Ultra Cheer.

Despite the current suckage, today was a fun day. We drove out to Sinks Canyon and took the Stud Mobile into 4WD up, up, up a couple thousand feet on a muddy potholed dirt road. Six miles up there was a dark gray lake with windy white caps. It was starting to rain so we pulled on our rain gear and headed out for a hike.

We hiked around the lake, over downed trees and navigated our way across a stream that fed the lake. Huge tracks resembling a deer on steroids (elk, perhaps?) circled the lake. Never saw the magnificent beast, though.

After hiking and scraping off the mud, we headed back down and parked in a small, four site campground. It had a cool boulder and a grassy area where we did yoga. We made lunch. Okay, Jay made lunch, which of course included a juice. This one was actually palatable and I finished it all. Even before Jay finished his juice! Then we headed back and I got stuck doing laundry in this freakin' laundromat. Jay was going to hook up the WiFi so I could surf online while doing laundry. Looks like the satellite dish wasn't cooperating.

I'm feeling napful. Perhaps it was the crappy sleep last night. We stayed at The Noble, the NOLS (National Outdoor Leadership School) hostel. Jay and I shared a room, sans roomates. We each got our own squeaky, painfully uncomfortable bunkbed. The sheets were without elastic, which pretty much ensured the bedding becoming knotted up as I thrashed around in fitful sleep. This was true dorm livin'-- the younger "kids" on a NOLS semested were up late and being noisy. I rolled over, deaf ear up, and slept anyway.

Despite my grumbling, I love, love, love this town. Enough so that I'm noticing which homes are for sale. It's a small town, about 5000 people and a mile high in elevation. There are big skies, diesel trucks, and changing leaves. Yesterday we got smoothies at a shop called "Chocolates for Breakfast". My kind of place, I thought, until once inside I realized it should have been called "The Jesus Cafe", given the amount of religious paraphenalia for sale in every nook and cranny. The Safeway here stocks my brand of Soymilk and tofu, a big plus in my book. The local chinese restaurant has veggie food on the menu, but more importantly, it's a probable source of fuel. They are the only joint in town that uses non-hydrogenated vegetable oil. (The van can't run on hydrogenated oil.) We sourced oil upon our arrival in town, and people looked at us oddly when we mentioned the van ran on used restaurant oil. Apparently NOLS has a bus that runs on veggie oil, too, and this Chinese restaurant is where they score their fuel, too. Fortunately for us, they're not running the bus right now, so there's no competition for the oil.

Anyway, this town is cool. Outdoorsy vibe, blue collar, and seemingly an equal number of Kerry supporters to the number of Bush folks. Good sign, especially in Cheyney country!

The Woofer (Wilderness First Responder) class starts tomorrow, so our relaxation and fun ends today. Tomorrow begins brain overload!

On the road....

Last night got hairy. Driving rain began showing signs of becoming fat, puffy snowflakes. We stopped in Winnamucca, NV for a fine dining experience at Pizza Hut. The snow made an appearance as we entered the restaurant. Inside Pizza Hut, the air conditioner was on. The place was empty and bad '70's roller-disco was coming through unseen speakers. We ate mediocre pizza, froze, and hit the road again.

We started climbing over a pass and the snow was coming down sideways. It was swirly and intense. We had to look through the snow, not at it, or else it was overwhelming. The snow covered all road signs. Other vehicles were pulling off the road or driving with their hazards on. The Stud Mobile chugged along, slow and steady in 4WD. I felt safe, in this solid piece of machinery, high above cars. Semi trucks were pulled off the road, looking like long strands of Christmas lights.

We drove until we hit rest area in Valmy, NV. It was a damn cold run to the rest room wearing Chacos and a sweatshirt. Jay popped the top on the van and we settled in for sleep, except for me running to pee several times over the course of the night.

The Cow (Jay's Blackberry, his phone-daytimer-life accessory) woke me at 6:15am with a Mooooo!! It then began chirping its stupidly giddy alarm. I hadn't realized Jay had set the alarm. I thought it was Jay receiving the morning's opening stock quotes. I got out of my darling down coccoon and went outside to shoot a few photos of the sunrise. The peaks around us were covered with snow. The skies were a cool, flat blue, the blue one sees before the warm colors of sunrise make an appearance.

We hit the road. It's a good thing we stopped when we did last night. The next pass looked like the storm was a doozy.

Starbucks 50 miles. Yep. There was a billboard in Battle Mountain announcing Starbucks in Elko, NV. Exit 303. I now had the coffee jones for 50 miles. I coerced Jay into stopping, and when we turned off at 303 we began looking for the green circled logo. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack, but then we saw the famed logo on the side of a casino. A casino? The Red Lion Inn and Casino housed the only Starbucks for miles and miles. Well, I wanted my fix so I braved the bling and went inside. Past all the glitz was a full-on Starbucks! How crazy, I thought, as a I tanked up on the biggest Cappucino I could buy.

We went back outside to check the van. Jay wanted to see if the poorly designed auxillary gas tank had gotten water in it. It looked pretty good. Jay tried to teach me a bit of Hacky Sackin', I sucked at it, and then we hit the road.

later on.....

We got Boulders! We stopped at a rest area in between Knolls and the Cedar Mountains in Utah. Up the hill beyond the plus rest stop were rocks! I walked swiftly up the hill, appreciating how good it felt to be moving my body. We did some bouldering, sans climbing shoes, on some cool rock. Lots of loose rock, and lemme tell you how much it sucked to be leveraging one's body weight, pull a hold, and the the rock loosen and wind up in my hand. We ran back down the hill. From a distance, I spotted what looked to be a Rottie. Upon arrival, it was indeed a Rottie, a sweet big 11 month old boy named Tucker. While Jay chatted with Tucker's owner about veggie oil as fuel, I got my dog fix.

Finally!

At 2pm we officially hit the road, headed East on 80. No real plan, but it is East. We need to go East. Lots going on in the skies, dark and heavy and sleepy. REM's new album "Around the Sun" is on. The music and the sky make for a melancholy mood. I bury my nose in Backpacker magazine.

Somewhere around Auburn the tension settles, the anxiety diminishes and we settle into the road trip and start talking some. We eat a roll of Sree candies. I was surprised because these things are little artificial-everything sugar bombs, and Jay's not a junk foodie. Climbing towards Tahoe, it starts to rain. A pack of Harley riders are slogging through the weather and still have a ways to go to get to their NV homes. Or at least their license plates say that's where they're from.

Dense fog. More rain. Yellow leaves. I may not be sleeping outside tonight.

On top of Donner Summit, we encounter a white dusting of snow and some accumulating slush. Nothing too spectacular, but a reminder of how weather can rear its head. I imagine sititng in a snowstorn in Tahoe ski traffic. Yuck.

Heading down into NV on 80, traffic comes to a standstill. On comes Dharma Radio. It's Jai Uttal. Chanting and soothing voice while at a standstill. I guess this is where I remind myself to breathe?

Saw Reno as we drove through and Nevada became increasingly dark as the sun set. Flat. Dark. Headlights. That's Nevada so far. Humboldt, NV isn't what we Cally folks thing of as a Humboldt kinda place. Here it consists of an exit and a Penitentiary, nothing else.

The Art of Procrastination

We were supposed to leave today. We were going to clean the van, load it up, and hit the road.

Ha. It ain't happening.

That's okay. It's a lazy day, one that calls for a nap. I fought the urge and made another pot of coffee. I'm doing my half-assed packing thing, the routine goes like this: pull out some gear, put it on the back of the couch, futz around in the kitchen, play with the dogs, get online, pull out more gear, decide to pare down by putting away some clothes or gear previously put on the couch. I tell myself this works because I can decide slowly, and see everything.

For this trip, it's important to pack very minimally. I'm going to be living in a van for three weeks with my friend, Jay (aka Dharma-J). We're driving his studmobile (my words, not his) to Wyoming. Why is this van studly? Because it runs on vegetable oil, dude! Despite it's fuel source, it's a macho army-green. This van gets attention. Everywhere. People gawk at it, and guys get boners. It has a satellite dish so geeks groove on it, too. This van is Jay's home. It has a kitchen, toilet, and a big screen TV. Okay, I'm kidding about the TV. It's got a juicer, though. Don't get me started on the juicer....

Anyway, we're going to Wyoming to take a Wilderness First Responder course. Never been to Wyoming. Our road trip will also take us through states I've longed to visit: Utah, Colorado (I hope!), Idaho. Jay's been kind enough to open his home up to me for the next few weeks as his road trippin' buddy. The Stud Mobile is rad, but for two people, it's gonna be downright cozy.
Like sharin' a shoebox.

Stay tuned. We'll get on the road eventually. From the SMCHQ (that's Stud Mobile Central Headquarters), I'll be beamin' up stories of green juices, coffee withdrawl, gorgeous landscapes, mock rescues, and bivvying hither and yon.

Now back to packing...