In 2000, 2001, and 2002, I was able to take Cross Country trips, each memorable in their own way as I headed Westward. On May 28th, 2011, I again headed out on a Cross Country trip, but this time my journey began  in Seattle, heading East to Atlanta where I spent time with my family.

Below I’ve charted my journey with photos and a travel map. Please read the journal from the bottom of the  page upward to follow the travelogue chronologically.

Motorcycle Ride Montage

www.youtube.com/watch?v=x-1MkHfvlGo

Travel Map & Route

June 6th – 8th

The last three days covered a lot of terrain: the 6th from Taos, NM to Amarillo, TX; the 7th from Amarillo, TX to Lonoke, AR; the 8th from Lonoke, AR to Hiawassee, GA. From Taos to Amarillo was a challenging but a rewarding day. I had unknowingly picked a route that included 9 miles of gravel and dirt road. With approximately 6 to 8 inches clearance from the bottom of my motorcycle and plenty of loose gravel and protruding rocks, I had to carefully balance my 800+ pound vehicle with every bounce, brake or turn. This would have been easy riding for a dirt-bike, but handling a cruiser through such terrain is a different story. I remember nearly 15 years ago when I was applying for my motorcycle license, there was a gentleman ahead of me who was directed by the instructor to position his bike in front of a white starting line. To maneuver his bike he had to cross a  little bit of gravel, and as he did this he lost his traction, and the bike gently fell to his side. As he picked up his bike at the starting line, the instructor informed the cyclist that he had failed the test since his first instruction was met with losing control of the bike. I remembered talking to this guy beforehand and how he had traveled from out of state to this location. E gads.  After successfully maneuvering this terrain, I was quickly presented with another challenge as the skies around me turned pitch black, and thoughts of tornadoes started to fill my head. Fortunately, every time the bad weather seemed inevitable, my route would move in the opposite direction. This dance lasted for hours, but I never experienced more than a few droplets. I ended the night at  The Camelot for $32 including tax, the best rate ever.

The next two days were the most difficult of the trip, both mentally and physically, and I felt the affects for a week after my trip. With 100 degree temperatures and 30 mph wind gusts, Texas was like riding against a giant Texas-sized hair-dryer assaulting every orifice of my face, relentlessly forcing its hot breath into every part of my being. The riding became unbearable after just one hour, so you can imagine my condition after 9 or 10 hours of this hell. I was screaming inside and even yelled-out from time to time a number of choice expletives. Nothing helped. The combination of assaulting hot wind and the nauseating growl of the engine left my body feeling flu-like and my stomach constantly nauseous. When I entered one of many air-conditioned convenience stores, I felt chills in my body even though my clothes and body were hot to the touch. I wasn’t sure how I’d be able to ride the next day, let alone finish the existing day. But the urge to reach my final destination in Hiawassee was strong, so I continued. Sleeping was difficult since my body was simply trying to adjust to the motion-sickness created from the day’s ride. The second 3 to 4 hours of sleep were solid, but I awoke with what felt like a bad hang-over with dizziness and a head-ache. These feelings of exhaustion and nausea continued through the last day of travel, and I continued to feel chills in my body even though temperatures reached the high 90′s.

I also noticed that my tire tread was running dangerously low during the last two days of travel–and several times during the day–I would imagine various scenarios where I’d experience a blow-out of my back tire just as a semi-truck passed, and my head would be squashed like a melon underneath the haul of the truck. These are the thoughts of delirium and were happening too frequently. There were only a few hours left, and even though I was completely exhausted, I knew I would soon be home.

Well, as I write my final entry, I obviously made it home safely on June 8 at about 10pm. My parents opened the garage door with surprise as I chugged into the garage with the deep gargle of my bike. My Dad had tears in his eyes, and as I lifted my limp body off the bike, I embraced my worried mother’s arms.

As these last days came to an end, I began to realize that this trip was more than a personal challenge and exploration and had a bigger context in connection with others. I needed to explore, extend myself beyond the comforts of home and to learn more about myself through the physical, psychological and emotional challenges, but I also found motivation to continue this journey through the support and encouragement of friends and family. I want to thank all of you who reached out with words of encouragement and let you know how thankful I am to have you as friends and how you too were part of the journey.

Sunday, June 5th

Today I took off from traveling and remained in Taos. It’s a cool little hip town which ranges from very touristy to very artsy. I suppose that means there’s quite a bit of toleration for all points of view, and I also suspect that the tourist aspect is tolerated to maintain its survival. Artists need consumers or else they need self-sufficiency, and not so surprising, there are plenty of experimental communities striving for self-sufficiency or at least less dependence.

Yesterday when entering from the West side of Hwy 64, I noticed several unusual experimental adobe styled homes. Today I ventured out there again to take a closer look. I could see about 15 of these homes and more farther removed from the hwy on private roads with plenty of residents-only signs. There is one drive that quietly invites guests to  a visitor center called Earthship – Biotecture & Biodiesel.  Unfortunately, I arrived too late to get a first-hand impression on what this community is about; however, while I was walking the premises and observing other sites, I was struck by how much artistic design was incorporated in these homes. In other words, these homes seemed to be more about the aesthetic appeal than scientific environmental efficiency. This was just a hunch, but later some of my intuitions were confirmed by locals who indicated that it had taken nearly twenty years to produce bio-efficient structures that were comfortable to live in. Either way, I’m impressed that there is a bio-efficiency to these space-aged looking homes, truly futuristic.

As the sun began to set, I ventured out again to a little raw food establishment that I had stumbled upon earlier in the day. On the road while plowing through the miles, I often cannot be very discerning about my food choices, so this was a perfect opportunity to eat healthy for at least one of my meals today. This establishment–I dunno if I can call it a restaurant–serves an assortment of medicinal teas, salads, wraps and soups, all organic. I opted for the salad which had an assortment of fresh vegetables, corn bread, and pate. It was very good. The cool thing about this place is that it basically looks like a well-healed kitchen of a private home. I later learned that is exactly what it is and intended to be. It invites an immediate intimacy, and I quickly thought of my friend Skye and how perfectly suited this concept would be for him. I spoke for some time with the owner Taamer Fasheh on several topics and again I was struck by how similar his aspirations were with Skye’s. Taamer was a master student of massage and Thai Yoga who wanted to build an environment where healthy organic food was used as a catalyst to attract like-minded people to interact and enjoy community, almost exactly what Skye has wanted to create. Skye also happens to be an expert in massage. Hopefully, these two will get to talk and share openly about their aspirations and challenges.

My conversation with Taamer has also stirred in me my future aspirations, and for me the challenge is to find clarity to what that might be. I enjoyed my conversation with Taamer and hope he continues a path that is suited for his unique talents.

Tomorrow, I continue my journey East as I hopefully will not experience too much smoke from forest fires. Apparently, there are several that will be blowing their smoke in this direction, so it is time to move on. I’m not thrilled about the rest of the journey and hope I can quickly pass the miles safely. My next journal entry will probably be a few days from now since I do not anticipate seeing or experiencing much through Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, etc. I love the Western landscape and am glad I was able to roam it, but now I just want to hang with my family and play with nephews and nieces.

Saturday, June 4th

This morning I woke-up around 6am, freezing cold. There were only two settings on the AC, low cold and high cold, although low cold could have cooled a meat house locker. I turned off the AC and attempted to go back to sleep, but I could have sworn I had icicles forming around my nostrils.  After some restless sleep, my plan today was to go to Taos from Mexican Hat. This required that I continue on hwy 163 east and then connect to route 262. There was no route 262, just route 162. Was there a typo on my map or some more menacing problem? I looked at my map several times, then stared at the sign. At that moment a native american couple approached me in a nice Lincoln sedan, and asked if I was lost. I said, “yes, my map says there should be a hwy 262.”  She said this happened all the time and reassured me that route 162 would connect to 262 about 20 miles down the road. I thanked them, and then started heading down the path they suggested. After a few moments, I started to wonder if I was in some bad horror movie, and this seemingly nice native american couple were plotting to hijack me farther down the road. All kinds of terror-filled fantasies were running through my head. After-all, the place where I found myself loss was Bluff, UT, and the couple had me driving towards Montezuma. Was this their form of Montezuma’s revenge?

Let me back up for a second…The first time I got lost in an Indian Reservation was 10 years ago, and after hours of wondering I finally stumbled into civilization and found a gas station to ask for directions. Another anglo approached me and said, “You’ve gotta be careful out here. Indians don’t like whites, and the native police out here will really fuck with you for something as stupid as a broken tail-light”. I was already feeling vulnerable, and this guy apparently lived near a reservation most of his life, so I didn’t want to discredit someone who just helped me with directions and warned against possible trouble….And the seed of prejudice was born. Now flashing back to the present, I was wondering if his haunting comments would be my foreshadowing demise. Long story short, this couple gave me great directions and a true short cut, and I would have spent a lot more time riding farther north looking for 262. I write all of this to remind myself how prejudice is born and how we sometimes make decisions or pass judgements based on fear.

Between Cortez and Durango, CO I experienced heavy smoke caused by local fires, although no one including the fire specialist could tell me exactly where it came from. I entered a gas station and had 5 different answers from 5 different people, interestingly enough not one of the answers stated that the fire was from Colorado. Denial ain’t a river in Egypt.

About 15 miles east of Cortez, I stopped for lunch and had a nice conversation with 3 older ladies. They all had migrated away from big cities to the naturalist lifestyle. They seemed like little kids, very happy with where they were. Next stop was near Pagosa Springs. I took a pic of a plaza sign where a business was called “Redneck Enterprises”.

I spent the next several hours in riding bliss…sunny, great vistas and no wind. I think I may have also got my first respectable sunset pano right outside of Taos. Taos, NM is a really cool town with a lot of adobe-styled architecture. On the outskirts of town, there are a lot of experimental adobe homes. They look a little like the futuristic home where Luke Skywalker grew up in Star Wars. May the force be with you.

Tomorrow, I’ll take a closer look at the city. BTW, I had an amazing southwestern calzone for dinner in this cool outdoor pizza joint.

Friday, June 3rd

Friday continued my 2nd consecutive day of great weather, low 80′s and slight breeze. Riding sure goes by faster under these type of conditions, and looking at mountain vistas on lonely 2 lane desert roads only adds to the feeling of freedom and physical and psychological space….lots of it. I’m constantly reminded how big our country is with dramatic, austere beauty. When you live in a city, you forget this. I also like using a map versus a GPS. Although less convenient, it has engaged me in the travel. I’m constantly shuffling through pages looking at adjacent states, alternate routes, etc.

I continued my journey today on hwy 89 east and entered Page, UT around 3pm. I entered the North Entrance to Lake Powell Recreation area and was greeted by Bianca, a friendly and informative park attendant who made me feel welcome…what a difference a smile and friendly disposition can make on my mood. Ten minutes prior to this, I was kinda stressed and angry as a big 4 wheel truck passed me on a right-side turning lane because apparently I wasn’t going fast enough at 70 mph. But all of that anger washed away when Bianca took the time to treat me with courtesy and respect.

I entered Lake Powell with high expectations for good photo shots–I took plenty–but I’m not very pleased with any of them…That lake is too damn big, and when I tried to hold the camera to take 8 consecutive stitched photos, I couldn’t sustain my angle on the shot. Each of the panoramics consist of 4 to 8 shots, and I line up each consecutive shot to overlap the previous one by about 30% of the previous one. Then, I use a special software that help seem each of the photos to make them appear as one panoramic photo. I know they make special lenses for panoramics, but I don’t have one so I approximate it with the method above. Panoramics that encompass really big landscapes require more shot, and with each shot, the room for error becomes smaller and smaller. I guess you could compare it to shooting a target from 300 to 400 yards away…the slightest movement of your hand, or the wrong wind calculation, and the target is missed….with 8 shot panos, the precision becomes almost impossible. I’ll sometimes attempt 4 or 5 times at these and will have to give up, because stress only adds to error, sweat and tears burning my eyes as I attempt to position the exact photo-overlapping angle and holding my hand still and long enough to push the button at just the right moment. Nevertheless, with time, I’ve gotten a little better at it, and I also found a way to keep my photos from appearing washed-out, something that has been a long-time issue with my existing camera. I’m now adjust the ISO setting manually on each picture I take, and this has made a big difference in the color saturation.

I ended the day by riding through Monument Valley on Hwy 163. The good news: I was able to get at least one good pic. The bad news: my battery died on my video cam, so I wasn’t able to capture the valley close-up…but  honestly, this trip has so many amazing vistas that I wasn’t that upset, and the road that passes by Monument Valley is not optimal for tourists. You basically approach the monuments and abruptly turn away from them in an awkward position with no good places to stop and view. This is one of those areas they probably made a national monument AFTER they built the hwy. There are also mobile homes and shacks owned by native americans sprawled all around the monument, another indication that this wasn’t really planned-out.

I finished my day in Mexican Hat, about 20 miles east of monument valley. Accommodations around monument valley average at about $150/night on top of an additional 15% navajo tax…can you say rip-off? I found the cheapest place at $38, tax included. No tv, no phone, no Internet…but it was relatively clean, and I felt like I got an amazing deal.

Thursday, June 2nd

Today was the first day I felt like I was on vacation. I woke up to mid 70′s and a light breeze. My night at the Alamo Inn was great. Although not much to look at, this place had plenty of space, a clean room with Wi-Fi and good water pressure for the shower. In the morning, I explored the only 2 highlights mentioned about the town: the warm springs and Carlos’s Mexican Restaurant. The warm springs had a temperature of about 98 degrees. This unpretentious spot–open to the general public at no cost–is across from the shell station. The entrance is simply a gravel road that meanders about 200 yards before opening up to the warm springs.

My second was to Carlos’s Mexican Restaurant which apparently opened recently. Everyone I met said I needed to check it out. Again, no signs from the road. It was about a block of the hwy behind the Sinclair Gas Station. I entered around 10 am and was the only person there. I was greeted by Claudia and her mom. These folks were super friendly and made me feel welcome. Simple kindness goes a long way in today’s super caffeinated lifestyle. The food was terrific and well priced. If you ever want to get away from the madness of big city life and get lost in a small, small, town, and live unpretentiously, then Alamo, NV is the spot. Sometimes small town people look at outsiders with menacing glares. The opposite is true in Alamo and a welcomed surprise.

The rest of the day was casually experienced with a 4 hour ride to Zion National Park which felt like 2 hours. The weather was perfect at upper 70′s with little or no wind. In Zion, I took time in taking some pics of the beautiful vistas. I’ve always thought Zion was like a miniature southwest version of Yosemite with dramatic smooth dome-like peeks surrounding 6 miles of valley floor. Only good photos, not words, can approximate the beauty.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=J1RAqqszt8c

After a short day of travel, I landed at Aikens Lodge in Kanab, UT, a small touristy town with plenty of hotel selections and a few quaint restaurant options.

Wednesday, June 1st

Today was definitely epic. I turned in last night at midnight after posting pics and a journal entry. I was tired and spirits low. The blow-up mattress in the tent was low on air, so during the night I felt like I was constantly falling off. It was also cold, and if I moved at all the cold and damp was felt immediately. Nonetheless, I managed to get about 6 hours sleep and started preparing for the day at about 6:30 am. I wanted to get an early start since I had lost more than half a day due to Tioga Pass being closed. I also had researched the weather, and the conditions were not good. There were reports of rain, sleet and snow for the day, and I knew I would have to endure 4 hours of cold getting over Sonora Pass on Hwy 108. I was able to load up everything and leave the camp site by 7:30 am. The weather looked foreboding with dark skies and very cold temperatures, low 40s.  I started back down the valley on Hwy 120 and felt resolved to get over the pass, rain, sleet or snow. I pressed hard as the cold easily penetrated my gloves and shoes. I made the mistake of wearing my open-air raft shoes, although I did wear two pair of socks…as long as it doesn’t rain, I find that the socks work well to keep my feet moderately warm. After about an hour, I stopped at a convenience store/gas station to warm-up. I could barely feel my toes, and my fingers were becoming numb. After 5 minutes of heat I was feeling good again, and about that time a woman asked me about my helmet. I explained that I was taking video footage of my trip and that I was hoping to get over the pass as quickly as possible. She gave me a very odd look, and asked to make sure she understood me correctly, “You want to go east on 108?” I nodded yes, and she again looked very concerned and said that she had just passed over it and that it was starting to hail lightly. I asked if it was passable, and she kind of hemmed and hawed as if she didn’t want to be liable for any answer that might make her an accessory to my death. She said, “Well, there aren’t a lot of restaurants up there.” What did that have to do with crossing the pass? I didn’t want to go coffee hopping, I just wanted to get over that damned pass! I suddenly felt an urge to finish up my coffee quickly and get on the road and over the pass as quickly as possible.

Within minutes of being on the road, the sleet became heavy and stung my face even at low speeds of 30mph. At this point, I was only at about 5000 ft, and I needed to climb over 10,000ft to get over the pass…things continued to disintegrate  rapidly. My feet were now getting wet and numb much quicker than before, and the weather continued to worsen as the sleet became so heavy that I could not see out of my goggles. For a second, I thought that I would not be able to go farther, but that thought only fueled my determination. If I were to experience frost-bite, then this would be the time. I had to continue….almost the entire vacation had been spent in the cold with several setbacks, and I couldn’t bare another. If I had to drive 5 miles an hour for the next hour, then so be it…at least I wouldn’t turn back…all of these fears swirled around as my hands and feet became almost completely numb. I didn’t want to turn back, but I also didn’t want to get in an accident. I was nowhere near the summit, probably at 6,000 ft. About fifteen minutes had passed but felt like an hour. I was not sure how I would be able to continue.

All of a sudden I was no longer climbing but instead quickly descending, and the weather quickly became better with glimpses of sun rays through the clouds. Was this the end of the bad weather? I could no longer feel my fingers or toes, but the weather was getting much better, and I was descending the mountain. About a mile later, I was able to pull over. I needed to warm my hands and feet. As I walked, I could not feel my steps. My feet and legs were completely numb,  and I was concerned that I had no feeling, not even burning. The cold had produced other unexpected sensations: I had an immediate need to  use #2…I know too much info, but I’ve never had such an urge, and the stress and extreme cold seemed to be a natural laxative. With the urge intensity mounting with every second, I quickly ran behind a rock off the road, and ahhhhhh…..way too much info I know, but strangely these are the things that seem meaningful to me. I mean I’ve never pushed my body to the point where my exclamation of life was excrement.

My next order of business was to get feeling back into my feet. I had brought a pair of basketball shoes, and quickly unpacked them, took off my soaked socks, got two fresh pair and put on the sneakers…still no feeling. It took over an hour for my feet to regain warmth and sensation, but now I was through the crazy weather. About twenty more minutes into the ride, I realized that I had never made the ascent to the summit and now I was quickly ascending the mountain. It was cold, but no rain or snow, and the sun was SHINNING. I could endure anything with sunshine, and I was amazed how steep an ascent it was and how beautiful my surroundings were. There were 15 foot banks of snow everywhere. I felt so blessed that I had made it through the bad weather and got to experience this unusual summit pass with 15 foot snow banks in JUNE! Finally, I reached the summit and twisted and turned through a maze of snow. Another 10 minutes, and I was now making the true descent, and as I was leaving the pass, rangers closed the gates to the pass due to the snowy/icy conditions…I had just barely made it!

My spirits were soaring at this point. I knew the worst was behind me, and now I got to experience the sun and beautiful natural surroundings. My favorite spot of the morning ride was right outside the gates that they closed behind me on Hwy 108. It was the quintessential big canvas rugged West that has been lodged deep in my psyche since I was a young boy, and I got to experience it in all of its glory, harshness and beauty.

The next few hours were spent eking my way towards Lee Vinnings so that I could experience a gourmet meal at the Mobil Gas Station made famous by Matt Toumey, the owner and chef of the unassuming restaurant.  When I got there, I had a bit more time to reflect on the morning and how thankful I was to have had the experience. The meal was not as good as I remembered or perhaps the experience of the ride was still dominating the moment. After lunch, I continued East on Hwy 120 and spent the next few hours on a lonely high desert road toward Hwy 6 and Tonopah, NV. These next few hours had excitement of their own with severe winds kicking up from all directions and making my head wobble like a bobble head. My neck is very soar from the next 5 hours of extreme wind conditions.

In Tonopah (around 4pm) I decided to set on the last leg of the day to Alamo. I noticed on the map that there were about 150 miles left, and from a past trip I remembered there were sparse options for gas. I decided to buy a 2 gallon gas tank for this next leg of the trip, and it was the best decision I ever made on a trip. I ran out of gas with about 30 miles left to my destination in Alamo. I simply pulled over, took the most amazing desert photo, filled my tank and was on my way again.

I finally arrived at Alamo at dusk, approximately 8:15pm. I found a quaint motel and had a nice chat with the owner, Vern who recently moved from New Jersey back to Alamo with his two teenage kids. Vern grew up in Alamo and resigned from 20 years in the Casino business and wanted to raise his family here. He seemed very happy. Vern is a testament to listening to your heart over fame/fortune/obligation.

This was a good day, albeit a long and tiring one. Next stop: Zion National Park.

Tuesday, May 31st

I spent most of the day traveling from Monteray to Yosemite.  I took Hwy 1 to Route 156 to Route 152 to I5 North to Hwy 140 East. The beginning of the day was tough due to high winds. I thought my glasses were going to fly off my head several times or even my head cam. However, once I made my way East on Hwy 140 just past Hwy 99, then it became a rider’s paradise. Temperatures were mid 70′s with light winds and plenty of beautiful vistas: rolling golden wheat fields, followed by climbing cedar forests, followed by steep mountains surrounding a narrow winding floor with a winding white water river adjacent to the two lane road which stretched for 30+miles. Hwy 140 marks the Maliposa gateway to Yosemite, and other than Tioga pass, I think this is my favorite entrance. At the entrance of the park, they have a bright yellow sign stating, “Watch for Icy Conditions”. I asked the ranger about the sign, and he assured me that there was no ice to worry about; however, he failed to mention that the Tioga pass was CLOSED. I found out the hard way. I was pressing hard, taking pictures in the valley, shooting videos off my head cam, but aware that I needed to head toward Tioga Pass, the East entrance and one of the most breath-taking landscapes. My whole day was geared towards making it to Tioga pass, and lodging in Lee Vinings where I would eat gourmet at the Mobil Gas Station where Matt Toumey offers bison meatloaf, teraki steak salad, among other treats. After a full day of riding I was looking forward to my reward, the vistas of Tioga pass and my hot gourmet meal…but as I approached the turn towards Hwy 120 east a big blockade stood in the middle of the road stating, “Road Closed”. I could not believe it. I had planned my whole day for this climax, and it was closed? I stood in disbelief, followed by anger, followed by sadness. I would now have to find an alternate route East, and there aren’t many roads heading that direction from these  mountain passes. My best bet was to turn West on 120, and hopefully Hwy 108 would be open and passable (the web site says no restrictions, although temperature are going to be in 30′s for part of it with possible rain/snow…arghh). I can’t wait to get to warmer conditions. By tomorrow, I hope to get midway to Nevada where there will be heavy winds but temperatures in the 70s.

Here’s the cute town of Mariposa, about 40 minutes from the Mariposa Yosemite Entrance.

Here’s where I ended up staying since I couldn’t get to Tioga Pass, and where I posted all these pics…I’m tired…good night

Monday, May 30th

My day started slower than expected. I went by a nearby Best Buy to pick up a video cam that would fit on my helmet only to learn they didn’t have the one that was showing up on inventory. Nevertheless, we were able to locate one directly on my route…My destination for the day–and the purpose of driving to California–was to experience the epic Pacific Hwy (Hwy 1). After 2 and a half hours of driving from I5 to Hwy 152 to Hwy 156, I finally got to Hwy 1, installed my helmet cam and experienced the wonder of the Pacific Hwy. I’m glad I held my doubts at bay to experience this very beautiful route.

I took several videos; however, they need to be edited before showing them…. Tomorrow will be spent traveling to Yosemite; however, the weather looks poor and temperature will be low 50′s, so I probably won’t spend much time photo-shooting since I have 3 other trips that log that area.

Sunday, May 29th

My second day on the road was greeted with mist and low 50′s temperatures…argh…The first 4 hours were brutal, and I really struggled to keep pace and keep my neck and legs from becoming numb from cold and stress from the constant muscle contractions. I also noticed that my headphones lost sound in the right ear bud. Music is a big motivator in poor weather conditions, and losing sound only added to the deteriorating conditions. The first part of the day was spent mostly in mountain passes where the temperature dipped into the 40′s, and the cold was really getting to me.  Here’s a pic near Mt. Shasta (14,000 ft. peak) where the riding elevation was about 2500 ft and upper 40′s; however, there were some momentary breaks in the clouds which really helped to warm me up.

I was at my wit’s end by the time I got to Weed, CA right at the base of Mt. Shasta, continued cold and mist were chilling my bones. I stopped frequently to warm myself. I started to wonder if this whole trip was a mistake. I’ve done this type of trip twice before, and my motivation was not nearly as resolute….and the weather was draining any remaining resolve…and just as I was losing hope, the clouds started to dissipate, the sun began to warm my body, and more importantly the beauty of Shasta lake brought inspiration….ahhh, God’s wonders of nature are truly inspiring and couldn’t have come at a better time.

I was blown away how quickly the weather changed for the better. It literally warmed up 25 degrees within 30 minutes of riding from Weed, and I actually had to take off my feather-down jacket for a lighter jacket instead. The scenery also started to dramatically change as I left the mountains and entered the valley, near Redding, CA. Rolling hills with large meadows replaced the alpine landscape.  At this point, I was glad I hadn’t given up on my trip and that I had made it through the cold. I was re-energized and ready to continue forward. I pushed hard and made it to Stockton, CA at about 9:15PM.

Saturday, May 28th

I left Seattle after several delays, primarily my fastener clip that secures my weather-proof travel bag was broken, so Kerry and I headed to REI for a replacement. I didn’t get out of Seattle until 2pm; however, this delay allowed me to miss some rain showers on the way to Oregon. Weather was cold and overcast for the most part, but I did see breaks from time to time which helped to warm me…temperature hovered around 50 to 55 degrees F, when sunny about 60 F which makes a big difference. I was glad that I decided to bring my down-feather jacket which I used through Washington, Oregon and most of California.

About an hour outside Seattle, I saw this 3-wheeled contraption…I have to admit I was envious for a moment until the novelty wore off. I haven’t ridden my bike much in the past year and half while in dreary Seattle, so my skills are a bit rusty, and I definitely feel exposed. Fortunately, I got my bike-legs back fairly quickly, although my ass, neck and legs were sore after 6 hours of riding the first day. I’m also glad I didn’t ride more on my first day due to my body adjusting to the strain of riding in cold conditions…my neck and arms were constantly tightening due to nervousness and the cold. I was glad to end my first day in Winchester Oregon.

Generated by Facebook Photo Fetcher

Generated by Facebook Photo Fetcher

From Viva Windham Resort, posted by Jeff Skop on 8/01/2009 (55 items)

Generated by Facebook Photo Fetcher

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I saw your question posted on Facebook about your desire for answers and whether to read “signs” or lack of “signs” from God as doors open/closed, respectively. Over the past week, I’ve been thinking about this question a lot as it relates to my own life, and there have been many stirrings over the past month where this topic has constantly come up, e.g., Pastor Richard Dahlstrom at Bethany Community Church–where I attend–has been talking about prayer; my small group has been discussing prayer and answers to prayers; and I’ve had conversations with close friends about the intimacy of God and prayer.

…and I’ve come away from it all getting some answers–similar to those posted by others at Facebook but with one important sobering distinction that I believe is true–but controversial to many I’m sure.

But before I get to those answers, I need to give some context. And please also understand, that I’m simply sharing what I believe is true for me in my faith journey and if it can help you, then great.

I’ve been a born again Christian for about 5 years….and believe me, I never thought I’d say that. I have a bachelor of science and majored in Philosophy. For me, religion always had the tinge of “opiate of the masses”, and I certainly didn’t think Christians were enlightened, still not sure how many of them are, but that’s another conversation.

One morning around 5 years ago, I awoke with a warm peaceful presence and a calm that seemed to be all around me saying, you’re not alone, you’re loved and everything will be ok. All of my academic, pyscho-analytic and intellectual powers were in one swoop replaced by something that felt immediately more concrete. I can only say that it must have been the holy spirit moving in me, an awakening. Nights before this awakening I had reached rock bottom and was on my hands and knees asking–if there was a God–to please help me. And in this awakening, despair was replaced with hope, bitterness with love and resentment with forgiveness. Almost overnight, my relationship with my mom improved, a job fell into my lap that was perfectly suited for me, my relationship with friends and family grew, and I started attending church again after 10+ years of absence. Life was very good, and I felt like I was on tract AND with a higher purpose to serve God rather than myself. What a relief.

Well, without getting into too much detail, life has taken many undesirable turns since my awakening and opened many unwelcome challenges and changes. Not all of it has been bad, but the overall picture has me worried. My honeymoon with Christ has ended, and I again am struggling to find peace and connection. I have experienced job discontent, followed by job loss. Relationship problems have re-emerged. I have struggled to connect meaningfully with God and lost connection with family members and some friends. I don’t think these changes are a result of my selfishness or unfaithfulness to Christ or my lack of earnestness to find answers, and I am not blaming anyone else for my problems either.

I’ve had several BIG questions about the direction and substance of my life and in the past 5 years–nightly– asking God to answer these questions…questions about what type of work I should be doing, what relationships I should pursue or end, where I should live….you know, small stuff like that.

I used to pray endlessly for resolve to these questions and get frustrated and angry with God when they worsened. I felt duped. I felt that if God existed, then he would give me clear signs, but if he did, I didn’t see them. Over the years I started losing faith, thinking He is either really incompetent, indifferent, or some combination. I’d also wonder to myself if perhaps God just didn’t like me….seemed like others were getting what they wanted out of life…maybe I just wasn’t good enough or something was just inherently bad in me.Then, one day in the past month–after complete exhaustion with these frustrations, I finally came to the realization that God does not answer prayers in the way that I’ve sometimes asked for them…and if I want my prayers answered, then I better change what and how I’m asking.

Has someone you know ever been killed by some type of disease? Has rape ever occurred to an innocent child? Have unjust wars killed hundreds of thousands of people? If you can answer yes to any one of these, then where was God? Why didn’t he stop it? Surely, prayers were asked and yet justice never came. You just don’t know God’s plan someone might say. Really? I think all but the most rigid fundamentalist can agree that any number of environmental or genetic mutations can lead to cancer or heart disease; and an emotionally disturbed person commits rape; and racism, tyranny, religious beliefs, intolerance or numerous other conditions can lead to thousands dead in a war. All of these examples we would argue are caused by man or nature, not the hand of God…If you can appreciate this line of reasoning, why do so many of us then assume God controls outcomes on who we marry or where our kids go to school or what job or income we have when larger disasters are occurring all around us? Because we are praying about them diligently? Certainly, many who are ill, or being abused or being killed in war pray for their survival or pray for others in harms way, and yet millions anguish in horrible deaths or are wronged in some way in the course of their lives. Christ was crucified, crying to his Father, “why hath you forsaken me?” John the Baptist was beheaded in prison and his head served on a dish. Peter was crucified. We know all of this and yet we persist that God somehow answers all kind of prayers about external affairs and our prosperity if we somehow are diligent or persistent enough.

I think God wants so much more from us than our own prosperity. Prosperity comes to believers and atheists alike. Wealth, disease, job, hairline, they’re all determined by factors outside of God’s concern for us. We can screw things up royally, and God doesn’t clean up behind us with his dirt devil vacuum. Life often just gets messier.

Nothing external that makes our lives easier or worse can be the direct hand of God. Let me explain more before you accuse me of blasphemy.

If we do the right things, sure we can often reap the rewards, e.g., work hard and prosper, eat healthy and live longer, be good to your friends and gain support, but there are no guarantees. The inverse can also be true, e.g., lie and cheat and become a CEO, smoke a pack a day and live to be 100, or steal your best friend’s girl. It seems then that God’s will was to grant us free will, and no external rewards or punishments equate to faithfulness.

What then is important to God? I believe it is our transformation: to love God and others above ourselves. The only kind of transformation comes from within and trust that God will conspire with us to make it so…but that desire and leap of faith and trust often feels too daunting.

I was in a conversation recently where a friend explained that most people do not like living with uncertainty. I think that is true and that the authors of the Bible were no less susceptible to their own shortcomings. That does not mean that I believe that the Bible is untrue, but we need to be active participants in listening to God and following the UNIVERSAL conscience that he has given to each of us, and not to seek self-serving passages with literal interpretations that point to God answering the prayers of the faithful, regardless of what the content of that prayer may be.

When we look at the Bible as a whole as it relates to our transformation, it shows a path more daunting than pursuing any self-serving accomplishment. Transformation is not easy. We will wrestle every day of our lives to find peace as long as we have selfish desires, and those desires are real for all of us.

The point is that God is not a puppet master, concierge or personal assistant. He has given us the greatest gift: Free Will. He has made us in his image and that imprinted design–when coupled with the holy spirit and careful attentiveness to perceiving His will–enables us to be more connected to Him, bringing greater inner peace amongst a world run a muck.

So at present–after much trepidation and resistance–I believe our prayer is to simply serve God and others and be open to wherever that leads us. Easier said than done, right? Kerry has access to many amazing people at her retirement community, and one day Dr. Savage–a retired Washington state heart surgeon–came into her office and handed her a book he wrote about his own faith journey as well as some of the stories of his patients. Dr. Savage starts the book by talking about his faith and how every day he has prayed the same prayer of Saint Francis,

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love.
Where there is injury, pardon.
Where there is doubt, faith.
Where there is despair, hope.
Where there is darkness, light.
Where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive.
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.
Amen.

At the beginning of my faith journey–when God was seen anew–my outlook was fresh and optimistic, and many facets of my life were flowering in a spiritual renaissance, and God’s gifts seemed more than abundant. Now I am faced with many of the same challenges as before the awakening. I do not think my faithfulness or lack of is correlated to my past or current conditions. It is simply the human condition. Nevertheless, the awakening has changed me, and I suppose my faith journey has led me to the doorway of transformation and the sobering fact that life’s uncertainty is certain and that loving others more than ourselves is the ultimate challenge. Suffering and humility are part of this journey. St. Francis has thrown the gauntlet with his prayer…I know I cannot do it alone, so Lord please help me endure my limitations and rest in your strength and will.

I loaded up my cats this past Saturday to take them to the Delta Cargo Warehouse where they would be shipped to Seattle, giving Kerry a day to acclimate them before my arrival on Sunday, my new home. I was supposed to get my cats there by 1pm for a 3pm departure. For the full 45 minutes in transit, I listened to the steady curdling cries of two scared cats who didn’t like being stuck in carriers, not knowing where they were going or why. On I85 I hit the usual gridlock downtown. The anxiety continued to grow, clouding my head with nothing but my cats cries to remind me how far I was from peace or contentment in my life. Was this whole journey West a monumental mistake? Satan had been gnawing at my soul for longer than I can remember, filling me with doubt in every facet of my life. A surge of anger rose within me and my thoughts turned to two quotes that I recently read from the opening page of C.S. Lewis’s Screwtape Letters:

“The best way to drive out the devil, if he will not yield to texts of Scripture, is to jeer and flout him, for he cannot bear scorn.” – Luther

“The devil….the prowde spirite…cannot endure to be mocked.” – Thomas More

I thought to myself, “satan how pathetic and manipulative you are, preying on the weakness of man, bringing nothing but sadness and emptiness…you were once beautiful until your own pride overcame you in place of worship for the one who gave it to you.” At that moment, I was puffing up my chess, mocking satan and ready to battle Satan for the low lying control-mongering serpent that he is.

Be careful for what you wish for.

My anxiety-level finally started to wane, and I had made my way to the cargo facility a full 30 minutes before schedule. I carried one carrier in each hand, using the top-side carrier handles provided. As I walked into the narrow door to the cargo facility, Sondre’s carrier caught the edge of the doorway, and the carrier clip–holding the top and bottom halves together–unhinged and created a domino-effect of the remaining clips to also unfasten, completely collapsing the carrier case into pieces. All of this happened in less than a second, and Sondre was thrown from the carrier and had the look of pure fear in his eyes. Sondre immediately began to sprint into the parking lot where nothing but the sounds and sights of construction overwhelming spilled in every direction as far as the eye could see: temporary steal fences, gravel, mounds of broken earth, heavy machinery, crates, canisters, cinder blocks and miles of warehouses, both completed and unfinished. I dropped Calvin’s carrier and ran in a mad dash in flip-flops for Sondre who was increasing his speed and distance between us. He ran without stopping, over 4 foot concrete walls, dodging any obstacle in his way for well over 200 yards. At this point, Sondre found a huge multi-ton dumpster and crawled to safety under its haul where there was less than one foot of crawl space between the concrete and dumpster’s underbelly. Looking underneath the massive crate, I could only see Sondre’s tail and a faint but constant cry. I say faint not due to Sondre’s calm but to the intense and dominating construction noise of the area. I made countless attempts to call Sondre out from underneath, but he would not budge. He was too scared to move or even point his head in my direction. This comes from a cat who will call on demand since a very young age. Fifteen minutes of heart-pounding drama had transpired, and I finally had recalled my earlier conversation with satan and my taunts and jeers…and now, satan’s response. I felt hopeless. A flood of my previous anxieties reappeared, and I did not know if I would be able to get Sondre out and now would probably miss their scheduled departure.

At about this time, two cargo attendants (one male, one female, both 40-ish) showed up on a golf cart. I explained the dire situation and had little advise on how to get him out. If I couldn’t get Sondre out by cooing him–his best friend in the world–then two strangers would only worsten Sondre’s fear and cause the cat a prolonged stay underneath this heap of trash. My fears were realized as the male attendant blocked off any crevasse where Sondre might be able to escape. His thought process wasn’t very thorough as his theory consisted of merely yelling at the cat and thinking Sondre would try to escape through the only space the airline crew had not blocked. This approach was flawed on several points, but namely, boxing him in would only increase his anxiety and thus make him less likely to come out, and there was no way to get to him.

It was now 1pm and I was certain that the 2 attendants were only making matters worst, but I also was certain that Sondre would now stay put as long as they were prodding him, and there was no concern for him to run again. At this point, I simply started to walk back towards the cargo area to see if I could get Calvin on the flight. I finally made my way back and hoped that Sondre could be coaxed out before nightfall. As I began to fill out Calvin’s information, another attendant on a golf cart approached the cargo area, and yelled out, “They’ve got the cat, and they need you to pick him up in the carrier.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. How could they have done it? I had EXPECTED the disaster, but I had NOT ANTICIPATED the blessing.

I arrived back at the scene where the female attendant had somehow fish-holed the rope underneath the dumpster–a feat in itself–and then again somehow over Sondre’s head with a noose slip knot. She then walked the unwilling cat from underneath the dumpster where Sondre was now laying beside the crate next to the lady’s leg with the rope tightly noosed around his neck. She wanted me to pick him up since Sondre had already bitten through her gloves. As I approached Sondre, he hissed, something I had never seen from him and certainly not directed at me. He was petrified, and I was still in awe of whatever cat whisper technique she had miraculously performed. The nightmare was over, and it was only a few minutes past 1pm. This salty, weather-aged lady had become my savior. I could see her surprise as I approached her with my tear-filled embrace, thanking her for her help.

What was going on here? I don’t know if it was merely “Jeff having a bad day followed by some luck.” Regardless, I was struck by some profound gratitude and higher awareness.

I found myself looking at this experience as an allegory whereby I was stuck under the trash-heap generated by satan but rescued by others who provided Christ-like help to a stranger.

The power of that message is still working on me. I feel amazingly blessed to be surrounded with love when all I saw was despair.

Hotels:

$85/night
Equus Hotel & Marina Tower
1696 Ala Moana Boulevard
Honolulu, HI 96815
(808) 949-0061

Hostel:

$120/night
Ho
59-222 B Kamehameha Hwy
Haleiwa, Oahu 96712
Haleiwa
PH: +1 808 781-6415 or + 1 808 638-5227

Photos will be posted soon.