Throughout the hunt for an Internet connection. Sometimes.
“This is the most beautiful place on Earth.
There are many such places. Every Man, Woman, carries in Heart and Mind the image of the ideal place, The right place, the one true Home”
~ Edward Abby ~ [Desert Solitaire]
“ Give me silence, water, hope
Give me struggle, iron, volcanoes”
~ Neruda ~
"City Brew" it is called. Near by Bozeman. Errands ahead, having coffee. The man across from me is sitting on a comfortable sofa chair, your classic brown leather imitation, little low round table in front topped with newspaper, tall coffee in a to go recyclable cardboard ceramic imitation and a cinnamon roll . Make that a frosted one. His jeans have seen better days, so has he. As he pulls the table towards him the tall coffee tips gravity not being his friend, and a brown pond of the liquid is all over the newspaper, the table and him. The cinnamon roll escapes the flood. No reaction. Wet hands wiped on his jeans for a little bit more color, blue and brown turning mauve, he continues to eat and drink. His fingers alike little cranes. Crumbs are now dropping on the fabric now totally brown and licking his fingers like magnets they are picked up and lifted to his mouth which stay in the constant open position while chewing or not. There is not a care in the World, manners have long been forgotten or most likely never acquired. It is not a pretty sight. I have to move on, Spirit has better manners.
The world ahead can be as many Circus stages one desire them to be. The ultimate show of them is the Wal-Mart I at times frequent. The people of Wal-Mart. There is even a website for one can canvas as a trailer for the feature of the year which might win the much after sought Academy Award. I don’t care for Wal-Mart but my wallet likes it. What can I say. Brand names are quite a thing of the past with me when a $60 T shirt or a $90 pair of pants will last not any longer than $5 or $15 ones. The show is free as I always wonder where these, some, shoppers have been hiding. They seem comfortable in their skin and I must say clothes. Just a different slice of society. Curiosity always moves me. They don’t seem to want to talk to me though. Their eyes avoid all eye contact. I feel a barrier while traveling with steps gradually slowing down within this huge football field filled with just about anything one would ever need or want. I don’t last long generally when realizing what I forgot is now a quarter of a mile away. Next time. Can I live without it? Of course.
Wal-Mart is now behind us and so is the coffee shop. Glacier, Montana, it is. I wanted cold, I got cold as the mornings start and remain with a low ceiling of a gray foggy blanket. A penetrating shiver makes me unpack some of our winter gear. It gets better by the end of the day as patches of blue take over yet with warmth still missing. I recognize the locals and our neighbors from the north just a few miles away, the Canadians. They are wearing a short sleeve T shirt. Some even shorts and sandals. Maybe I have become softer as I also unpack my heated gear I can plug in when we ride. Years gone by? Age? I kinda find this pathetic. I almost feel guilty, yet I know I paid my dues, as they say "been there done that". I look at the maps and once again I surprise myself realizing how far north we are. One leg at the time this is where we have end up. I think a bit about the return, the descent as I call it, more legs one at the time as I also want to spend some time in southern Utah, mainly around Valley of the Gods. Fall sounds good to recharge this Soul beaten to the core lately.
I think about "Old Faithful" sitting all alone on blocks in the green shipping container at The Oasis in Southern Texas. I miss her. A true road warrior. Yet Crusty goes where she cannot or more exactly "could" but with no apprehension as having reverse is her gift. Two wheel drive not quite as often. As long as I know that the present is always a compromise I am alright with it. Have to be. Can’t have both unlike this Friend of mine who does, moving on with the biggest condo on wheels called a "toy hauler". Probably 50′ including his giant truck. Such limitations as to where one can then go.
It was more than a pleasant surprise dropping in "Polebridge". Tiny town, a few dwellings but the outmost best of the best Bakery. A Dear Friend of mine likes to guide me through not only the spaces he knows we will fall in love with as we have the same taste, but also the Bakeries. I was blown away by it’s quality of products, taste, flakiness and freshness as the trays were non stop surfacing from the back room with a constant tornado like of smells I think even Spirit would pass out. Huckleberry Bear Claws… I forgot to get one of those as my attention sidetracked to a… Chocolate Chip and Cream Cheese Turnover I could barely finish. Sugar rush for the return ride, that is if I could mount Crusty this time. Rolls Croissant type with Feta Cheese, Ricotta Cheese, olives, artichoke heart, and more so much so a state of confusion took over me as I took a step back to regain some form of consciousness. Impressed, so truly impressed. Someone has a vivid imagination with the recipes. Combination as I would have never thought about. Of course we have to return. It will be a hard task as also, as it is everywhere here in "The Glacier" each road is a temptation of our favorite sin we call riding.
The body is still recuperating from these two months of inactivity I feel. The joints are finally getting a bit more fluid and flexible, the mind over matter is surfacing to let go of the past feelings and catch up with the present. Slowly one day at the time, one drop at the time I am refueling, the realization of this Gifted Life is again taking shape as it has to. I always said "it is a choice", yet has not been as such these past weeks. The efforts had to be multiplied ten folds, time had to stretch even if like a weak rubber band snapping a few times throwing me back down where I had started.
I am watching two campers this morning while they are packing up their two motorcycles for another of their own one more leg. They must have pulled in late last night as I did not hear them. Neither did Spirit most likely. They are a bit far, I can see them through and around the trees. Father and Son. One tent. One night. The Son must have had Polio as he is limping while his knees stay together one child step at the time. They are each also packing a backpack they will wear. I can tell their gear is very rudimentary using plastic shopping bags. I admire them. Father and Son. They probably even live in the same house sharing this same passion of the outdoors with such two wheels vehicles. I never liked setting up for one night. I would use a Bivy Bag instead but they don’t have one and have the feeling their sleeping bags are not of the best. They probably will go a few more miles today, maybe a couple hundred, maybe more and start all over. They are what I call "roughing it". Of course I envy them, it brings back memories not so much forgotten but tucked away by time unfolding. They are "doing it" and more power to them.
Till next time when again we find a connection…
Ara and Spirit