When you say it out loud it starts to feel real. When you put it into writing it becomes proficy. I’m not the only one, we chat dockside and I say it again. If I can’t get this trip together I’m packing up and shipping out on the bike. I write my words in my journal, my future is altering course.
Sookie is the best little home in the world, I hate the idea of leaving her again in the boatyard but I need movement, exploration and new terrain for my eyes. A story teller constantly needs new material, new experiences and a constant dose of tiny exploration. The bike is ready, I’m ready and the world is waiting for me to explore it in my slow meandering style. The seeds for this journey were planted somewhere riding down one of a thousand lonely roads in Hawaii. Cycling isn’t a hobby or a sport for me, it’s a way of life.
Small tents, camp fires and a cool can of beer at the end of a long day. Roadside snacks, micro brew tastings and every vineyard from here to there. Afternoon thunderstorms wash away the searing heat of the mid day sun on a painfully hot blacktop that never ends. You’ll never know what’s out there if you don’t look. Years ago hitchhiking through Mexico I ended up at the Hotel California, I smiled content with my discovery as I had never thought of it as a real place.
All I need is a pile of fresh maps, a good bottle of water and the sheer will to push my bike over the next horizon. I wish I could say that this is one of those coin flipping situations but I think the road to my future has already been paved.
Mirrors on the ceiling.
The pink champagne on ice
And she said “We are all just prisoners here, of our own device”
And in the master’s chambers,
They gathered for the feast
They stab it with their steely knives,
But they just can’t kill the beast.