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The first sprinkles of rain have my tent leaking, by the time the torrential rains hit I have an inch of water in the tent. I’m in what appears to be a river bed. During the night my head slips off my pillow an empty plastic water bladder that used to hold wine when I sailed through British Columbia, I literally almost drown in my tent. 

  
   I survived that, weeks on end of sleep deprivation, hunger,fire ants, scorpions, turanchulas, angry locals, hurricane force winds, even the psychotic drivers…

I’ve learned to adapt in every way.  My tent now in a new camp, dry and secure from the wind and rain thanks to a blue tarp and really good survey of the land. I’m in utopia, then the  drunks  and tweakers show up. It’s a whole new breed from the previous ones I have encountered.  An hour before dawn frightened and disalusioned tourists flee from a night that I can only describe as living next to the gates of hell. 

I’m trapped like a rat, a prisoner to my possessions. I will need food soon but fear leaving, they are now 20 feet from my tent having been moved due to many complaints. They have been hitting the vodka since dawn. 

I’ve yet to meet a single person traveling lighter than me but my possessions still weigh me down.  I could pack my whole camp, ride to town an put it up later but it’s too windy to ride. 

Initially I planned on showing up with a few grand and staying in hostels between rides.  I could have done that with little more than my toothbrush and one Spare pair but a last minute oh shit moment happened so here I sit in one of the most beautiful spots on the planet guarding my scant few possesions

I’ve already vowed that I will make this trip again and very differently.  There is a very sharp learning curve and I have done well enough but each and every single day offers a new challenge. 

There will always be a next time if you learn from your mistakes and mine will have me light as a feather and free as a bird. It’s far too early in the day to know what challenges I will face but the real test will come when the sun goes down and the tweakers turn to zombies, or the walking dead as I call them. 

I find it hard to imagine that I envy people who have less than I do or even that these people even exist but today I do. Those homeless guys with nothing but thier little daypack and a bike are far freer than I am today.  I desperately want what they have but tragically enough I want my useless shit more.  Today it is truer than ever that the things we own end up owning us. I could be  free of all this self imposed prison at anytime if I could only convince myself to unlock the shackles that bind me. I have the key right here, we all do. 

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