Sometimes a little push from the world outside can go along way. After chatting with Fei from Fei’s World today, I’m feeling re-energized. Coming at a great time, accompanied with a bad news phone call from the Chico mechanics. But, I woke up here:
As you may or may not have noticed, the blog has been on a short sabbatical. While I continue to travel through the Pacific North West, the project is in a bit of a reform phase and honestly, I’ve felt super discouraged about it as a whole lately. I’m not sure what the mission or goal is right now and I’ve lost that excitement and curiosity that conceived it. I know that’s the nature of things, but now I get to think about what form I want it to take moving forward and I’m not sure yet. (Cue reflective looking photo featuring the sparkling Yuba river).
One thing I’ve learned while traveling alone, however, is that my backup plan is always to keep moving.
On long hikes, I wonder to myself, “Well, if I don’t see that trail marker in the next hour, then I’m definitely lost… Then what?”. The answer is always, “keep walking”. The same is true when I get lost driving (which always happens). I always un-lost myself by continuing to drive.
Instead of trying to “catch up” with the blog, I’ll start from today and reflect on the last few months from here! I’ve been so happy back in the Pacific North West, surrounded by gigantic trees and taller mountains.
Intense blue oceans and freezing coastal winds. Perfect for road-side picnics and miles upon miles of breaths-held while winding blind hilly curves. Vivid memories of my mother’s fear while driving her three kids around the same coastal roads 15 years ago. She told us over and over how scared she was that we’d all go into the ocean and I empathize.Secluded sandy swimming holes hidden among desert colors and heat. Waking up, chilled by the cool mountain air and warming into the crystal-clear fresh water of slow moving rivers. Hot springs and exuberant travelers. Meeting in funny circumstances on empty trails that invite shared meals and hammock-hangings over frigid, rocky waters. Hikes and climbs down to the bottom of waterfalls, and sharing notes on meal plans and favorite hikes.Water falling and wooden bridges. Finding or making paths down to fresh water, looking up. Watching water move horizontal, vertical, fresh. Entertained by young boys daring each other to climb higher, jump again. Well, that’s a little Pacific North West love for the moment. I’m writing this from a mennonite bakery in Chico, California while my car waits 1.5 miles up the road at the mechanic. I have some classes to teach and some emails to catch up on. I’m also staring at the second half of a gigantic cinnamon roll I conceded to through the glass countertop an hour ago. I’m full of new music from World Fest and High Sierra, and am anxiously heading back to the West coast through mountains I’m not positive the van is up for. The mechanic explains over the phone, “you need to replace the turbo”. Sounds big. It costs big, too.