I started writing this last a few weeks ago, four days after catching up with work stuff and thinking about how I wanted to share my previous weeks experience with the intent of dedicating myself to accomplishing something and feeling inspired. It didn’t really go as I had hoped. I had just returned the previous evening from a work trip. Just a night with meetings in Indiana and Ohio but the drive home from Columbus on a Friday afternoon around Chicago is rough. I spent a LOT of time in my head. Not only was that hamster wheel spinning but I couldn’t manage all the hamsters. I had the weekend free but then had to catch a 7am flight to LA Monday morning for two meetings out there. Since I had a lot on my plate after being gone for a week, I thought it’d be a good idea to just take the red-eye and get home and perhaps get some shut eye on the flight. I missed being home and just didn’t want to spend another night in a hotel after being gone so long. I landed at 5am and got home just in time to deliver donuts and coffee to the girls, then back to standard operations. Meetings all morning and just a LOT to do. I’m still exhausted but I needed to dedicate some time on the keyboard.
In struggling to find the means to communicate this experience in a meaningful way, I recalled a conversation one evening on the trip with one of the guys. He was telling a story involving helping strangers, or them helping him. (I don’t recall the details. I’m sorry, but this tinnitus outside in the wind causes me to just tune out sometimes. It’s not on purpose. I do care, it’s just hard.) At the end of his quick story, he said something to the effect of how it made him feel good. He had no idea who these people were but he said it was great and that’s just how it should be. People just helping each other get through this wild world, by at least being kind, at a minimum. His theory is that humans are kind by default, and that hate is learned, and so we should just be kind and not teach hate. Simple, right? This explains why there are still hitchhikers. Some people have more faith in that theory than I do.
We had some great conversation around the fire the third night which included music and pop culture stuff which also created a lot of thought content. It was fun to be challenged. It was fun to be open and honest and share opinions without judgement, with strangers. It was fun to spend a measurable amount of time with people who can share their life stories, that are unrelatable. To learn, understand and gain some perspective from other respectful humans. Now, I’m sure you see the photo below and think, “Yeah, a bunch of middle aged privileged white dudes playing in the mountains with their toys. Different my ass”. Well, you’re not wrong, but aside from our skin color and language, we couldn’t be any more different.
I started thinking about the positive human connections that I had made the previous week. Who, after five nights in trucks and tents, if and when shit goes down, I think (at least in my mind) that we’ve got each other’s back and that those five days were enough to form a bond of understanding and respect. I’m going to tell myself that anyways, because that’s the healthier option. Perhaps I’m wrong. If not, oh well. It was cool.
Unfortunately, we’re going to have negative connections along the way as well. That’s just life and they’re unavoidable. We all suffer loss at some point and its heartbreaking and horrible. Parents, friends, children, neighbors, girlfriends, boyfriends, spouses and others of significance are all going to be a part of everyone’s past at some point.
We all have people as characters in our stories that suck. Either by just being rude, negative people or straight up intentional vengeful shitty villains. Every story has them, for better of for worse, like it or not. What’s our story? How do we want people to tell our story? Because they will. What characters do we play in other peoples stories? Who are we to them, in their minds? Do we care? Are we connected? Are we connected enough to care? And if I care, why would I engage in negative connections?
I mean really, what’s the difference? Why the hell do I need to behave a certain way to be judged by an imaginary character to determine my afterlife, when I have actual people here, to demonstrate kindness and love upon. Kinda seems like we should be beyond that by now as religion is now seemingly, just a weaponized, bullshit excuse to be an asshole.
An adventure. Four big kids from different homes, different families, different lives, on an adventure sharing our stories and our feelings along the way to accomplish something most don’t. I hadn’t thought of this connection until about 5 minutes prior to typing this, but my adventure parallels my favorite movie, “Stand By Me”. That’s cool. I love that movie and it brings back a lot of memories. That’s what this shit is about, Positive connections. Either human, physical, emotional, spiritual, natural, whatever. Connections with nature, too. Those rocks and trees told stories too. Those boulders fell and those scars along the Mountain ridges were put there. I want to know those stories.
So I need to break this up a bit for my own sanity. I feel guilty for not doing this as much as I said I would. I know that I said that this blog is mine and I set the expectations, but these are the thought’s that take up space in my head. How often should I post? Do I do one long-ass post? Write a book? Fuck, I dunno. Oh Man, the photos. I have to go through those and edit them first. I can’t just share that shit. Why do I think about this nonsense and let it bother me? Because OTHERS DO, and its real, unfortunately. Why though? I wouldn’t be surprised to see a comment saying “Cool story, man, but your photos are shite”. Like really? And then someone who will say it because I just mentioned it. That was funny when I heard it the first time, when I was seven. Stop it. These are the negative thought trains I jump on sometimes and it’s almost paralyzing.
Four Sundays ago, I woke up in a hammock. That’s a first for me, as surprising as that may seem to some. I’m typically more of a tent guy when it comes to being outdoors but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. I had another first on this day as well a few hours later when I had to dig a cathole to empty the hopper. Let me tell you, I am a changed man.
I made my last entry on September 17th, a day before I was to leave for Act Two of my overlanding trip out in Utah since Act one, back in February, (Two weeks before my ear shit started) was ended abruptly after having some critical vehicle issues. It was fine actually, I got to spend the balance of the time hanging with friends in Colorado and experiencing the Manitou Incline, which I have mixed feelings about. I may revisit that experience at some point in this blog, it was…sumthin’.
If you couldn’t tell, that last post also ended rather abruptly due to another issue, Me. I’d had horrible stress and anxiety the past couple weeks with work and shit. My work load has gotten pretty heavy (or at least heavier than what I’ve been used to) and I have projects with critical milestones that had to be reached while I was gone, as well as a couple active installations, which as a project Manager, always provide some level of stress and anxiety. Add onto that the fact that I wasn’t going to have cell service the next five days and any issue was going directly to my manager. I’ve done this long enough and had spent a good portion of the weekend doing PowerPoints and punch-lists for the teams to cover my ass. What could possibly go wrong, amirite?
Monday was spent confirming receipt of my weekend emails and stuffing any maximum comforts for the next week into my luggage. Like a tent, sleeping bag, sleeping pad, layers of clothes, and gear. All the gear, and accessories that you stuff into any orifice of your bag. You try to put things in places that make sense so you know where they are when you need them, and then when you do need something, you have to empty all your shit anyways and you never remember why it made sense in that moment. and you’re like “That was dumb, I’m gonna put it here next time.” Just to repeat the cycle. Why is packing for a trip so stressful? Like, “oooh, I better make sure I have enough Splenda packets for my morning coffee”. (I’m totally hearing that in my mother’s voice)
My wife kindly chauffeured me and all my shit to O’hare in the afternoon on Monday the 18th, after my last call, so I could sit in the airport and have some time to finish up any last work stuff I could that would help relieve the anxiety before my 5pm flight. Let’s be honest here, we all have it (the anxiety thing). Our minds are rollin’ down those rails, man, and we’re all doin the best we can to keep those cars on track. Some just carry more loads. Some carry different loads, some heavier, some lighter, but we’ve all got em.
Jason picked me up a the airport and we headed to his place where the evening was spent with one of my favorite families, who have been a treasure for my family to find in our life’s journey. We ate pizza, caught up on the latest and greatest and I tried to be as present as I could be while my mind was busy making sure we had “our shit together”. You know what I mean. I could tell Jason was doing the same. He’s also a project manager. He wrestles different animals in his field, but I can get the idea of what it’s like being the zoo keeper in whatever area of the zoo he’s in.
Tuesday was a bit of the same as I was working “remotely remotely”. Making the last minute calls and finishing up before shutting down and packing up whatever of the “Rig” we could. That’s what they call ’em. “Rigs”. Jason’s rig is a 3rd Gen 4Runner.
I slept great in the leather recliner in Jason’s basement. I don’t even bother sleeping in the bed when I’m there because A) I hate making laundry for other people 2) The recliner is comfy as hell and D) there’s no TV in the bedroom. Judge me.
Six am came quickly and we were ready to go. There was a new “Starby’s” two blocks from Jason’s house that I had to hit one last time before breaking the daily habitual. Not habitual coffee, no. Habitual “Starby’s”, yes. Judge me again.
We had about an hour an a half down the road before meeting the other guys, then continuing on down south. Here’s where it starts.
We were to meet at the Circle K in Frisco and top off the fuel before being told to meet across the freeway at the Speedway because the pumps were down. Easy enough. We pulled in and exchanged a wave and a smile with Shane, who I hadn’t seen since I met him back in February for Act One. We jumped out of our trucks and as I reached out a hand for a shake, he grabbed it and pulled me for a hug. Some folks aren’t huggers. I’m not an outward hugger but I’m not put off with it either like some folks. Some people feed off of that positive human connection and I don’t want to deny them of that, because it’s good for me too and Shane’s a good dude…and a hugger.
After the hugging stuff, we got back to the other business. Shane forgot his fucking wallet in his kitchen. No biggie. We spotted him some cash to fill up and it extended our drive about an hour and a half through the Colorado Mountains. “Blessed be the flexible”. I heard that phrase years ago in being involved secondhand, through my wife’s involvement in the Rotary Youth Exchange Program. It’s been beneficial on many occasions in my travels, either for business or pleasure. Perhaps I should learn to apply it elsewhere. Hmph. I’m trying. We had to drive about 40 minutes/miles, whatevs, up to Kremmling so Shane could grab his wallet before we were headed west to catch a different pass onto 70 towards Moab. I got to pet his dogs and I could tell Shane had a bond with ’em as they really didn’t want him to leave. He called them in but they knew what was going to happen once they stepped across that threshold and they didn’t want to see dad leave for another trip. I get it.
Shane works for CDOT and does a lot of overlanding so he knows what’s up. He said ” When we make our way to the end of the highway and make a left, there’s a cool viewing area. I’ve driven by it a couple times a week for a few years and never stopped. I heard it’s pretty.”
That was my fourth pic. I was excited to share with the girls back home. I wanted them to see me happy. I wanted them to see what made me happy. I wanted them to be inspired I guess, like I was feeling at the time. I just wanted to share that, that was all.
It was pretty alright. When we got out of the truck, a gentleman pointed up towards the ridge across the road. I couldn’t hear a damned thing he said but he pointed up the road to a small gathering of observers. “Sheep!” there it was, the ass of a sheep between some trees. Apparently there were a few up there and they were headed up the hill for the afternoon, but were behind some pretty thick trees and I didn’t feel like walking the 50 yds for a clear view. I just turned around and took it in. I was here. I had been looking forward to this trip for months and I got to see THIS and I get to see more for the next 5 days. How awesome is this. And I got to say I saw my first bighorn sheep, or at least ones ass.
We stopped down the road to fill up, make sure we were on the same route, and radios were dialed in. I went in to grab one more cup of swill coffee and empty the good one. I was a bit hungry since I rejected the option for a McDonald’s breakfast and opted for the usual Starbucks. I figured a Honeybun and a sleeve of mini chocolate glazed donuts was exactly what I needed for the journey. That was a bad decision. My guts weren’t havin’ it and it made for a long, uncomfortable drive for a few hours.
Our route took us into Moab from the East through Gateway, CO via the Onion Creek Trail, where we we spent the first evening an hour outside of Moab. By Hour, I mean 7 miles. We weren’t rollin’ fast on those trails. Typically 5-12 mph. Can’t really do over 20 w/ out breaking something or being really uncomfortable.
First evening was great. We found a spot in a designated camping area. There were a couple other parties at other sites but it was about half occupied with fellow adventurers. It was windy and I wanted to get the tent up in the daylight as the guys were getting their rigs settled for the evening, eager to fire up the grill. Shane had grilled ribs a couple days prior and was sending us photos of the process in anticipation. We couldn’t have a campfire but we were prepared with propane grill. The wind had picked up and it got a bit chilly when the sun went down. A propane grill in the cold wind kinda sucks. Those foil-wrapped ribs were slow cookin an inch and a half atop a damned flame. The guys constructed a 3/4-assed “wind screen” out of a folded table and some other heavy stuff. Spare gas cans and stuff off the trucks. Hey, considering the elements and the resources available, they did pretty damned good. Now, I’m sure someone will say “You knew you’d be out in the desert and it’s windy, dipshit”. Yeah, no shit. We all know. This wasn’t a “camping trip”. 100% of the effort is put into the rigs and your goal is to get cool places and get out…on your own. Meals are just sustenance. Quick and easy with a lot of road snacks. It’s heat n’ eat territory out there. We were all looking forward to having a nice meal of ribs and mac n’ cheese. I’ll just leave it there… like Jason left the F’n pot full of mac in the dirt.
Hikers midnight came quickly as we dispersed into our respective sleeping vessels, hoping for a peaceful nights rest.
Thanks for reading and Good Night!
Be Kind
-Doug
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