Island Life

Friday, August 24, 2007 - Day 64

Went from blissfully suspended in my hammock, laying on my side, trying to ignore the fact that I had to take a piss, to smacking down on the ground, falling hard onto a hard ground. What a horrible way to be forced back into the world. That's the first time on this whole trip that I have had a problem with my hammock. Actually, it wasn't even a problem with my hammock, or a failure of the thing, it was the failure of a zip-tie that I used to bridge two straps to make it around a big tree. You see, the hammock has rope that extends from either end. This rope you tie around what they call webbing straps, which are designed to go around the tree without damaging the bark of the tree. So the webbing straps are wrapped around the tree and the hammock support ropes are tied to the loops on the end of the straps. Unfortunately, the webbing straps that are included with the hammock are only about 36" in length. Most of the trees in the Pacific Northwest have a circumference much greater than 3'. Luckily my dad gave me the webbing straps from his hammock when he left Portland, since he wasn't going to be needing them. Thus, with two straps combined, I have up to 6' of webbing strap, tree wrapping capabilities. I needed the whole six feet for this tree, so I needed to tie something to connect two loops at the end of each strap. I decided to use a zip-tie. I have been carrying them around with no use since I left Portland, since I don't have my backpacks on the side anymore, as I have these fancy Ortlieb panniers that have a fancy rack attachment system. Stupidly, I only used one zip-tie, knowing that this wasn't going to be enough to support my weight. I thought about this as I got into my hammock to go to sleep. I think I wanted to test the limits and see what would happen. That, or I was incredibly tired last night and too lazy to get into my bag and pull out a couple more zip-ties. So around 7:30 this morning, the thing finally failed to keep itself together, completely snapped in two, and sent me and my hammock plummeting 3 feet to the ground. Luckily I was laying on my side, not on my back. There were no rocks beneath me, but only an exposed root. There could have been much more potential for pain had I been on my back, however. Most of the impact was absorbed by my arm and shoulder and hip. Still, a really fucking rude way to be awoken.

There is a mountain here on this island, Mount Constitution. It is 2400 feet high, the highest peak on the San Juan Islands. My plan this morning was to climb the mountain then head over to the ferry and catch a ride to another island. I took my time getting ready, meditating and walking around and writing and listening to music. I reached a really good point of relaxation and clarity, something I really haven't had in a long time. I got my shit all packed up and was ready to ascend around eleven or so. I loaded all of my gear on my bike, thinking that I was going to go up, come back down and head out. This was a dumb thought. I could have very easily left my bags at the campsite, which is along the road up to the top of the mountain, and just retreived them on my way down. I'm a fighter, however, and I like to increase my challenge however I can.

So this marked the highest climb on my journey. It wasn't easy, that's for sure. The beginning was full of steep switchbacks. I had to take many breaks along the way. About halfway up there was a little turnout with a beautiful vista of the island, as well as some other islands. It was a great preview of what was to come at the top. The fog was still rolling around in the bays at this time. Amazing view. It took me more than an hour, almost two, I think, to reach the summit, but it was worth it. The view was spectacular. I could see several other islands, mainland Washington, including a snow-capped Mt. Baker, and barely through the fog, Mt. Rainier was visible. There is a tower up at the top, up which you can climb for an almost 360-degree view all around the island and beyond. You can see Canada, the Gulf Islands, Washington, the San Juans. Very nice.

Something I have been thinking about lately is fear. Fear is an emotion that plagues much of our lives, and it is entirely a negative emotion. It does nothing but stifle, limit, constrict, harm. Fear is rampant these days. I am trying to eliminate much of the fear in my life, as well as other negative emotions such as guilt and regret. It isn't easy, but the rewards are amazing. Extinguishing this negative fire that burns inside is an uplifting experience, allowing so much more positive to flow in. I thought about this atop Mt. Constitution. Along one side of the summit is a stone wall that stands about 3 feet high. On the other side of this wall is not a cliff or a steep precipice, but at least 15 to 20 feet of more, mostly flat, solid ground. Were one to fall off this wall, there would really be no danger of falling over the edge, down the mountain, unless you really had some good momentum. Nonetheless, there really is no danger of sitting on the wall with your feet dangling on the other side, unless, of course, one is horribly uncoordinated. But then, how would that someone have made it this far up the mountain, let alone in life? So I was amazed when parents became really angry when their children, some of them probably in their teens or about there, moved to put their legs on the other side of the wall. Where is the trust? Do they think their children that uncoordinated, that dumb, that they couldn't handle sitting there like that? When I got up to leave, I jumped down on the other side of the wall and walked around it to see what was beyond the 20 feet of rocks on the other side of the wall. I heard some people talking, and they were really disturbed by this, felt the need to talk about it. 'I don't think you're supposed to do that,' I heard one woman say. She seemed mildly upset that I would take that risk in front of her and her children. I wasn't in any danger, really, unless there was an earthquake or someone pushed me. I just wanted to explore. Why do people get so upset about that, especially when I am doing no harm or causing any potential of harm to them or their loved ones? It's like when an old lady driving her car in a small town in Oregon went out of her way, slowed down to less than 10mph, to tell me that the redlight was for me as well. She even had to repeat it, because I didn't hear her the first time. She honked at me when I started to ride across the intersection. The thing was, I was putting no one in harm's way, save possibly myself, but there were no cars in sight. There was no danger, whatsoever. But she really felt the need to go out of her way to tell me that. I found it more funny than anything else, but maybe a little sad, too.

Anyway, that's off topic. The downhill was great. It wasn't very steep at first, so my speed was good, but not incredible. I had to pull over to allow a car to go past, since it was obvious they wanted to go faster than I was going. Within about two minutes, however, that same car was pulling over to let me pass them. I was going faster now that the angle of decline had increased. I passed them with a big smile and a wave. Fantastic! I soared down the mountain, having to use my brakes quite heavily for the sharp switchback turns. Eventually I approached another car, a van, and had to ride my brakes to avoid smacking into the back of them. Surely, I thought, they will pull over and let me pass as well. Ha. No. I had to actually pull into the oncoming lane and pass them. I think the father driving was dumbfounded. Oh well. I have the need for speed, and it must be satiated. Out of my way tourist family in the minivan!

When I got back down to the campground, I realized that I might as well stay another night here. It's at least an hour and a half ride to the ferry, and it was already around 4pm. The campground is nice and I had a great spot last night. So I went down to renew my site, but the damn thing was reserved. So they gave me a much worse spot, but it will do. Sucks that they offer up the primitive sites to car travelers. They are always noisy. Washington really needs to take some hints from Oregon as far as hiker/biker sites.


Send Otis a comment

name:

email:

title:

message:


Comments