Breakdown Showdown

Tuesday, August 14, 2007 - Day 54

Distance traveled - miles

Today found me on the verge of breaking down. I have been running away from my problems for the last few days, since I left Portland. I have been doing high-mileage days and avoided being alone with my thoughts. Eventually all problems catch up. So today I turned around and faced them. I realized that I have been holding myself back, kicking myself in the ribs and spitting in my own face, not allowing myself to even get up to my knees. I know now that I need to take my issues by the head, placing my thumbs upon the temples and the fingers behind the ears. I need to take hold of that head and give it a strong and swift headbutt. Then I need to do it again, spilling blood onto my own face. Next I must take that head and bring it down into my swiftly rising knee, delivering a strong blow. Then I can lift up that head and look at it in the eyes. I must stare at that face. I must keep staring at the face, looking at what I have done, understanding that it had to be done. I must know that the blood will dry, the bones will reset and perhaps be stronger than ever, and the scars will serve as a reminder of this event and what led up to this action. When all this happens, then I can take that head in an embrace and hold it to my chest.

I nearly had a physical breakdown as well today. With dehydration and fatigue knocking ever so loudly at my door, I was magically saved by a sweet downhill into a valley rich with gas stations and a deli. There I found my salvation in the form of a soda fountain water spout and a fried chicken strip. Had that descent been replaced by an uphill, even the slightest rise, I don't think I would have made it to write about this now. It was that close. With a weary smile I welcomed the air conditioning and shade from the overbearing sun.

After my chicken strip, I went outside to enjoy a hearty, salty can of chili and some kiwi. I sat in the tiniest strip of shade provided by a post. It was quite a satisfying meal. Once that was done, I was just about ready to set out across the large bridge into the perhaps great state of Washington. An old man exiting the store expressed his concern for my safety in crossing the bridge. He suggested that I buy some red paper to put on the back of my bike, as red is the most visible color, according to him. I told him that my helmet does the trick pretty well. He didn't have much to say. Then, as I was throwing away the last of my garbage, I started checking out the covers of some papers that were sitting in dispensers in front of the deli. I was reading some headline about kids getting fat in the summer when a big white lady accompanied by a small black child came out of the store. Her compact SUV was parked right behind me. As she approached the car, she began talking to me. She asked where I was coming from, where I was going, how long it was going to take. I told her a bit of my story. She was impressed. I told her I was about to cross the bridge into Washington. She asked if I needed a place to stay tonight. I was touched, but I told her that I was was going to camp in Washington at Seaquest and meet up with some friends the next morning. She asked if I needed anything. I told her that there wasn't anything that I could think of. She expressed her admiration for what I am doing. Then she introduced herself. Diana was her name. Otis, I told her mine. Let me get a hug, she said. She opened up her arms and gave me a big ol hug. It was not a measly wrap and pat; this was a real hug, an embrace, laden with feeling and friendliness. I reciprocated as best I could. It was a magic moment. She wished me luck on the rest of my journey and got into her car. I was, at the moment, reconsidering her offer of a place to sleep, but I didn't make up my mind before she pulled away. I thought, that sure was a nice lady. I don't get many hugs along the road. The last real one was saying good-bye to the Dusty Rhodes kids, and before that it must have been Gifford that I shared a good embrace with last, either in San Fran or maybe just into Oregon. My day was already picking up at this point, with the water and chicken strip and just the good time I had thinking thus far, but this hug was a big turning point. I felt warm and smiley inside. I was ready for the rest of the ride across the beastly bridge, into Washington, and on to camp. Thank you, Diana of Rainier, Oregon.

It was mostly uphill getting into camp, but I was glad that there was no ranger on duty at the booth when I arrived. That means that I may get away without paying for my stay here, which is considerably more expensive than camping in Oregon. Washington doesn't provide designated hiker/biker sites and charge at least $14 for a regular campsite. That's more than three times what I was paying in Oregon, and they don't even have free showers. Absurd.

I found one of the few spots left and began setting up. I had a young couple right next to me, and I planned on introducing myself after setting up my hammock. I didn't even get the chance. Halfway through getting the thing up, the lady asked me if I was hungry and offered to share their dinner with me. I gladly accepted. Turns out they are Dutch, on a two month vacation here in the U.S. They spent a week in New York, then flew to Seattle and rented a car, spent some time up there and are now making their way down to fly out of L.A. in about 7 weeks. That's awesome. Two months. They were incredibly friendly, and we chatted as we ate and for an hour or so afterwards. We talked about their impression of the states and Holland and the differences between the two. I told them a bit about my adventure, and we talked about biking. I found their accents charming, and they spoke English very well.

I hated to bring the conversation to a close, but it was nearing eleven and I am exhausted after some long days of biking. I'm not riding tomorrow more than the five miles back down to I-5, but I need to get some good rest. I've really been overdoing it lately. I'm so close to being burnt out. These two days off traveling with the band should be a good rest and a great opportunity to get piss drunk and make an ass of myself somehow. Oh how I miss those good ol' days of my youth.

Sweet dreams.





lady gave me this, half full, sitting outside a safeway. i ate it the rest.


i also ate two of the most sugary donuts i could find. i think i was looking to overdose.




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