Seatless in Seattle

Dear Blog,

I am spending some time off the bicycle seat. To my great fortune, I am staying with some of my cousins, Marvin, Kathleen, Caitlin, and Margaret. Marvin and Kathleen are the parents of Caitlin (junior at Mt. Holyoke) and Margaret (freshman at Mt. Holyoke). They have been incredibly generous and welcoming, offering me a guest room in their home on Mercer Island, and taking good care of me. I must admit, this is not how I pictured my big adventure, my Grand Tour turning out, but I am definitely having new experiences. And as good ole mama reminded me, there is a reason things are turning out the way they have so far. For example, I am building relationships with four fellow Brookes whom I otherwise would have only thought of as cousins.
I returned to Seattle on the same day as planned, but the journey was a little more exciting than I had expected. Because public transportation wasn't going to be able to get me back to Seattle at a reasonable time, I decided to take a bus to Port Townsend and try my hand at hitch hiking. So I went to a hardware store, bought myself a sharpie, took some cardboard out of their recycling bin and made some nice bubble letters that said: Seattle? Bainbridge??
It was strange. Most folks wouldn't even look at me, not to mention read my sign. It occurred to me then that the thing to do when you see someone panhandling or anything of that sort, is to acknowledge them. Even if you don't plan to give anything, you should look at him or her, smile, nod, or give a thumbs up. But averting your eyes or ignoring is insulting. In my life I have often simply ignored the person standing on the corner, and for different reasons, I'm sure. Not wanting to make eye contact for fear that social psychological forces will compel me to feel guilt or discomfort and end up giving money is chief among them. But if I really don't want to give money or time, I should be sure of it (and myself) enough to be able to make a connection with the person. But not looking or ignoring is denying any human connection. It is making assumptions about the person, defaulting on heuristics that necessarily leave out trying to understand the person's situation. The man or woman holding the sign is still a person (and this is an important and obvious epiphany I have made working with the homeless), and being without certain things (car, home, hooch) is often only a matter of circumstance that really just affects the way the person appears in that moment.
Wow, I definitely didn't plan on writing that little manifesto, but I guess I'm glad I did.
So eventually I heard a voice coming from an old pick up truck wearing a canoe as a hat in the McDonald's parking lot. The guy inside asked me what I was doing, I told him I was injured from a bike tour and was trying to get back to Seattle. He stroked his goatee for a moment and said, "I guess I could go to Seattle." So I threw my load into his truck and he drove me back to his house. His name was Nate, he does construction, and he's done plenty of hitch hiking of his own. He has a baby (almost 2) named Israel. After we unloaded the truck and took the cooler full of the crabs he pulled up from his traps (he checks them twice a day in his canoe), we rode bikes to his wife's work, which turned out to be the coolest breakfast spot right on the water. We got some coffee, I got some sweet potato, beef stew, and we chit chatted a bit, waiting for Emily to get off work. Then we went to a pub/ restaurant in the old down town district (super beautiful and quaint). I normally don't use the word "quaint." It seems to pretentious or something. But downtown Port Townsend is quaint and I'm sure it wouldn't mind me saying so. We sat around for a couple of hours, playing with Israel and I got to meet Emily's sister and her boyfriend. Then we went back to Nate and Emily's house and cooked the crabs. This is a cool memory. I learned a thing or two about crabs. Before he cooked them, Nate pulled the backs off the live crabs with the swiftness and nonchalance of an expert. He then folded the body in half and rinsed the innards out in the sink. Apparently this is a painless way for the crabs to die. It sure beats throwing them in a pot of boiling water where they rip each other's limbs off misplacing blame for the scathing heat. Apparently crabs also taste better when you clean out the guts and stuff. So that was interesting. Then it was time to feed and we ate crab for a little while until Nate had to go to band practice. By this time I was wondering if I would have been better off taking public transportation back to Seattle. But I went to his back practice, which transpired next door in his boss's music studio/ construction office/ headquarters. I worked the start/stop buttons in the recording studio while the three-man band went through a few songs. They were kind of a reggae/ alternative rock/ David Byrne-y band. So after band practice, Nate, Emily, Israel and I left for Bainbridge. As we entered the little town, I was beginning to feel a little concern for where I was going to stay in Seattle. But the universe conspired to send me a little "Way Opens" miracle. I looked out the window to see Chelsea, Adam's good buddy and one of our traveling companions in Port Angeles biking her way down the road. As it turned out, we were boarding the same ferry back to Seattle, and she offered me her place to sleep. Synchronicity!!! We were starving by the time we reached her place in Capitol Hill and made quesadillas that probably should have been patented. I don't know whether to give credit to Nate for his laid-back treatment of time commitments, the message from Paolo Coelho's The Alchemist where the universe conspires to help you achieve your desires, or just plain coincidence, but I know what I should be taking from it and many of the other "way open" moments I have experienced this trip. I should learn (and am learning) to try to let go of the antsiness that comes with having a destination (literal of metaphorical) yet to be reached. That has been a major theme of the trip. Thing are relatively stable right now, but for most of the trip, it was never clear where I would be sleeping any given night, where I would find food, if I was going to have a bike, etc. But a quote that I read from Don Jose Maria (the founder of the Mondragon Cooperatives) has found its way into my mind over and over again. He said: We have recognized that theory is necessary, yes, but it is not sufficient; we build the road as we travel. Sometimes I substitute the "theory" for "planning." It's a nice quote, capturing the traveling element, which I will hopefully incorporate back into my life shortly.
The first day back in Seattle I went out to lunch with the cousins and had my first crumpet. Those are really good. My sister, Jessica was so right. That night I slept in Chelsea's bed and he slept in the front yard (her choice) and I woke up from the most vivid dream. Perhaps I am showing too much of the nether regions of my psyche, but I will share this dream.
I spent the entire dream going through normal life situations, but in deep, self pitying depression. Everything I did seemed to fail and bad luck happened upon me at every turn. I would break down in deep sobs and wander directionless and useless. At some point I was in the desert with the boys and Devin was cracking eggs. I wanted to crack one, as in some strange dream logic, a successful egg would redeem my worth in some way. Devin warned me not to drop it. Well I cracked the egg right into the sand. That was it for me. I walked away and sat down next to this demolished graffiti'd building. A shirt with graffiti caught my eye. It said:
Love.
Yes, or no?
Well, then in the dream, it hit me. Love apparently is something that can be chosen. Which means it is an action, rather than something that happens to you or someone. A verb, rather than a noun. And it was clear that I needed to make the choice to give myself love and thus I would grow, secure in my worth and value, being able to spread love where ever I go.
So I have been thinking about love a bit lately, with help from a book I am reading called "All About Love" by bell hooks. It's good stuff.
Today I took a bike ride around Seattle and my knee started hurting pretty badly. That was frustrating because I was on a bike that fits me. See, I traded bikes with Chelsea, as she is going to work on a farm for the rest of the summer. This replacement bike fits much better, but apparently my knee doesn't discriminate against different bikes. Fortunately, Marvin is a doctor and after some poking and prodding, informed me that I have damaged some cartilage under my knee and need to rest and do some simple strengthening exercises.
Well, gosh. So of course, I called up the boys who are in Vancouver and told them to take their time on their trip. No need to come back to Seattle for a while. I wonder when I will become a burden for my cousins. I think tomorrow I will start looking through craigslist to see if I can find some work. Maybe picking berries??
Well, I have said too much. Thanks for making it this far down the page with me.
If you're reading this, I probably miss you. But I am enjoying this down time and getting to know my cousins. I am eating exceptionally well and feeling pretty good about things. My head is rather clear and my lungs are enjoying the fresh air here.
David, out!

Last day in Port Angeles

Dear Blog,

Alrighty. It looks like we're heading out of this little town tomorrow morning. I can't say I'll miss it too much. Even though its a pretty town (from where I am sitting in the Bella Rosa coffee shop I can see the action on the Strait of Juan de Fuca) and it's been great getting to know Cody,I think I've spent too much down time here. I have been to the Goodwill down the road a few too many times. I've eaten too much ice cream by myself, and bought too much coffee so I can get on the internet in Bella Rosa. I've spent too much time staring at Cody's lawn, contemplating the short list of activities a lone invalid can do in a small town that doesn't involve eating or spending money. But even though leaving will provide a new landscape and new possibilities, the fundamental problem remains: I still can't pedal my way about town. My knee is definitely feeling better (an encouraging detail), but the pain persists.
So you might be asking: what's the plan, Stan? Well, to begin with, my name's not Stan. But as far as the plan, tonight we will watch Cody act and sing in the musical he has been working on. Tonight is opening night. We're looking forward to it. So far the only lines we know from the musical are: "There are giants in the sky" and "into the woods." Then in the morning, the folks on bikes will head out early for Bainbridge to catch the ferry back to Seattle. I will figure out what public transportation or hitch-hiking methods are available and meet them in Seattle. Gabe has sent out a couple of emails to people on warmshowers.org, an incredible resource for touring cyclists to find a place to stay or shower. Browsing the site, I have found so many interesting people that sound really eager to take in a bunch of bikers. It's so cool.
While we're there, Evan will try to figure out his bike situation. He shipped his bike with Greyhound and they have somehow misplaced or rerouted his box and no one knows where it is. A word to the wise: from Gabe's Casey's, and Evan's experiences with Greyhound, we have determined that they are not the service to use when shipping something you want. So Evan will work on that, Gabe and Evan will replace their hopelessly leaky thermarests, Casey will probably bike around, Chelsea will leave us to work on a farm, I'm not sure what Adam will do, and I will try to get in touch with my cousin, Marvin, who runs a rehab clinic in Seattle. Hopefully he will be able to or will know someone who can help me mend myself. The most important part of going back to Seattle, though is to meet up with DEVIN!!! YAYAYAYYY! Devin arrived in Seattle this morning. We have all been eagerly awaiting his arrival. The group of six will finally be complete. I guess we need some kind of intimidating biker gang name. Any good ideas out there?
Well we had our first town meeting today. We decided we would like to have those daily, but that's a tall order for a bunch of easily distracted, antsy dudes like us. It's like herding a bunch of cats.
But anyway, we all sat down (except for Adam, and checked in and stuff. Chelsea has been thinking about a motorcycle she wants to buy. David has been thinking about the book he's reading, All About Love, and about how the group dynamics of one immobile person and 6 antsy adventurists are taking shape and what we should do. Evan has been thinking about the bit he read about hang gliding in the thrift store and how he feels that the group is really congealing and things are falling into place. Casey has been feeling great about being out with his best buddies, and he said something else, but I can't remember... it must not have been real exciting or important. Gabe has been thinking about Rancho Bravo (a taco stand in Seattle) and something else about food. He's thinking about blogging and route planning. We also talked about how we should return the favor to Cody and decided to clean his house, which we did after the town meeting ended.
So today's been a good day. It started off with some "hot conty" as we call it, which translates to free hot continental breakfast. Later in the day we had a little throwback and played Butt's Up for a while. Adam and I had some flashbacks from our youth playing with our old buddy Daniel and his merciless big brother, Jean Paul. There are clean clothes hanging on some clotheslines outside and we've all had a little time to ourselves. Tonight we will watch the musical, brown some onions we given from the produce department of the grocery store, SAARS, yes, pronounced like the acronym for severe acute respiratory syndrome.
Well I suppose I have run out of things to say. I will take my long-winded self off this blog and figure out what to do with this over-sized bike of mine.

Love,

David

p.s. the pictures: 1. Evan is getting his ear pierced. 2. The group is contemplating the day after the hot conty. 3. Butt's Up on the back of the Safeway. 4. Adam about to get hit in the butt. 5. Adam cleaning his feet and Cody.

And the adventure begins...

Dear Blog,

This is my first blog post of all time, and I must say I'm a little nervous. I never thought of myself as a "blogger." In fact, I rarely write down anything unless it's for school or some other less-than-voluntary obligation. But I think that writing stuff down will be good; good for me practice writing and recollecting, and good for people like the fam and others who might be interested in the types of things we are turning into memories.

So with that pretext out of the way, here’s a little update of our travels:

Well we are finally on the road.. And by we, I mean me, Casey, Gabe, and Evan. For those readers who may not know, Gabe and Evan are our best buddies who we’ll be traveling with for a while. Port Angeles, WA is our current location. But getting here has had way more pickles involved than we ever could have planned for. In fact, we made a list of said pickles the other day called the Trip Pickles List, but of course, that list was destroyed during another pickle. My treasured entries in the journal that was in my fanny pack were all sweated into smears of red, blue and black oblivion. Bummer, I know.

So since I can’t provide the whole list, I will just say that I think we overstayed our welcome in Seattle by several days. Not only was Seattle sick of us, but we had a bit of cabin fever ourselves. I also had to make a last-minute bicycle purchase from a nice man named Ed. Bought the night before we left, this fine specimen of a bike is a vintage verosport (apparently with a really valuable crank). But two days ago, on Sunday the 15^th, we set off at around 9 pm to Pier 52 to catch a ferry to Bainbridge Island in Puget Sound.

We missed two ferries due to a couple of pickles, and got into Bainbridge around 11-something. A nice man we met on Pier 52 told us about a public park a few blocks from the water where we could probably crash for the night, and we found in pretty easily. We figured it was a relatively safe place to stay, as the local teenagers felt safe making all kinds of a ruckus on this stage that looked like a boat about 30 yards away.

We woke up feeling refreshed and ready to bike to meet up with Adam and his lady companion, Chelsea in Port Angeles (about a 75 mile ride).

The ride went well for most of us. Yours truly, however must take a moment to gripe. I am injured. I knew it was going to happen, and some might say that is the explanation for the injury. If it is my own psychoneuroimmunology working against me, I have really messed myself up. My right knee is busted. The pain started within the first ten minutes of biking. I figured I just needed to warm up, so pedaled forth. Abut an hour into the ride, I was in significant pain, but decided to push through it. Why? Well, I felt a certain obligation to the boys to get to our destination. I also wanted to make it. And I figured it must be something wrong with my setup, so at each resting point, I would make a new experimental adjustment. But I think the main reason I that I’m young, foolish and sick of injuring myself every time I do something that requires a healthy body.

I was behind the group the whole ride, and for some reason this caused me some anxiety. But there was this one moment when I felt at peace that I would like to share. It went like this: Were on the bridge crossing Puget Sound and the boys have stopped to put on sweaters or jackets. I pedal ahead, thinking that it’s only going to be cold while we’re on the bridge. I look back and everyone is still off their bikes, and I feel at ease to pedal at my own cadence. Looking around, I see dark water so smooth that sets the standard for glass. It must be really cold. To my left, I see a beautiful landscape of snow-capped mountains and mountains covered in dark green firs that look soft enough for a giant to use as a pillow. I look back and the boys are on their bikes, but are quite far behind me. The pain in my knee is no longer sharp, and I am filled with a kind of metaphysical now-ness I’d like to think worthy of being tuned into some Ram Dass aphorism. In the moment I am aware of the beauty around me, and the adventure I’m on, and the everything feels significant, and I look back to see the land that we have already traveled as George Vancouver might have done in 1792, and as I turn to look, a voice seems to drift into my aural cavities, telling me “on your left,” and the boys pedal past me. The pain in my knee kicks back in.

So about 50 miles into the journey, I was absolutely miserable. My left thigh was about to die from overcompensating for my right knee, and each down stroke on my right side was an exercise in major ego strength-diminishing mind-over-matter. I told the boys that I had to stop. We were a couple of miles outside of Sequim (say it like “sqwim”) and found a spot to sleep in the far end of an elementary school playground.

Off the bicycle, I was able to enjoy myself and the journey, and we dined on a delicious amalgam of ramen noodles, chopped hot dogs, and baked beans. I slept in a tent because my sleeping bag is apparently a little too thin for the Washington nights, Evan slept in his mosquito hammock because his thermarest has a hole, Casey slept on the grass, and Gabe brought his farty self into the tent with me. We all slept through the night.

The next morning (this morning) we ate a breakfast of pigs in a sleeping bag (hot dogs and corn tortillas) and quickly found ourselves in the middle of a surprisingly large summer camp. We packed our stuff up as quickly as we could, but were definitely a source of wonderment for the youngin’s.

Seeing that my knee was worse than the day before, I told the group that I couldn’t travel with them. So they set off on the Olympic Discovery Trail on their way to Port Angeles, and I walked my way to Mike’s Bikes to get some professional help. The man named Dalon suggested I lower my seat slightly, but that was all he could see that might be wrong. I found a bus to Port Angeles that only cost two dollars. Apparently the public transportation is federally funded. The bus fares only provide about 4% of their operating costs. I arrived at Port Angeles coincidentally at the exact same time and place as the boys. We walked to find Adam and Chelsea, who told us to go behind the Safeway.

We found them staying in this guy, Cody’s front yard. Man, it was good to see Adam. For those who don’t know, he has been my best friend since before pre-school and I hadn’t seen him for a long time. Our visit was rather short-lived, as he, Chelsea and the boys pushed off to camp out in the national park by the hot springs. But before they left, Chelsea bought me a big ole’ tub of mint moose tracks ice cream because that heals injuries.

So here in am in the Bella Rosa coffee shop trying to mend myself and keep up with the website. I am severely bummed about missing these bicycle journeys and my buddies, and I fear how long this injury will last. As of now, it only gets progressively more painful. I wanted to heal myself at the hot springs, but figured getting there would trump any healing I would receive not going. I am getting some good lessons in trade-offs here (my high school economics teacher would be happy to hear that).

In these injured times, I find homesickness a little more easy to come by, and self-indulgent self-pity readily available.

But don’t worry, mama, I’m happy and having a good time. I’m on my big adventure, and I have no deadlines or destinations. We do what makes sense in the moment, and see what happens. Cody is letting me stay in his front yard and use his kitchen and bathroom and all that good stuff, and I’m making memories with my best friends. I have a tub of ice cream, a can of chili, a tiny laptop, a little town to explore, and time to spend with good ole’ number one.

*I hope this blog post was satisfactory. I don’t really know how they’re supposed to be, and I welcome any suggestions or requests for other types of information or forms of narration.

Until next time, this is Wounded Knee signing out.