Part 1: On the Road Again

Lately I’ve come to realize that I spend more time planning than implementing. My mind is presently mixed with obsessive aspirations of exploration, blended with the unsettling feeling of impending anxiety. It’s not that I can go on forever and travel. Realistic priorities constantly exist. The eerie notion that societal obligations are abound and expanding, pulling one’s self deeper into a dark trench of indentured servitude.

My thoughts are currently preoccupied by the six on Liberty Ridge.  Although the lamenting feeling of a tragic occurrence is universally sad, the realization that these young climbers were aspiring towards something they truly enjoyed brings a sense of gallantry to a mournful endeavor.

I’ve been looking forward to getting back on the road again. The longing for vast open fields and desolate roads acts as a temporary escape from the worries of future commitments. After years of doing this, packing my gear now seems like an art form. What to bring? What to leave behind?

Traversing the Mesas, Utah 261, August 2013

So now what?

I have to admit that none of my trips are impulsive actions for leaving. Trips take lots of planning. Checking the location, checking the weather, making sure I have the right gear. Whether it’s taking a photo or climbing a mountain, timing and planning are crucial. Yet there’s no guarantee that it’ll all work out. From my experience the weather forecast a few days out is always a tentative prediction at best. Summer t-storms are better predicted when you’re there and looking outwards toward the ever creeping gloom forming yonder.

This time I’m traveling towards somewhere I’m not too familiar with. I can’t help but feel like it’s too early to do some the things I’ve planned in my agenda, yet too late for some others. Timing is always the most important thing, but the seasons are never constant. One dry year can yield an early season. Another wet season, and the summer starts in July. Summer can start early for places in California, but be delayed in other states.

Gear can malfunction, or in some instances, break. The sound of a shattering filter in the middle of nowhere can be devastating, especially when the right light suddenly appears. Being overly aware of the condition of my vehicle is a must.  I guess its the lingering fear of getting marooned on the side of nowhere, surrounded by a sea of salt brush and sage.

After shattered filter, bought welding glass and some rubber bands from a local hardware store to modify my camera.  August 2013.

But it’s worth it.

It’s astounding how much of a person’s life is dependent on roads.  Our experience, our means of living all revolve around these almost permanent pathways in the landscape.  Often, we blend this concept of artificial vectors with the land it traverses.  Rarely are these roads ever expanded into a new destination, providing the opportunities for new founded adventures. It’s the realization is that you can live in one area for your whole entire life and not see everything that it has to offer. Retaining obscurity. Sometimes roads are busy, congested from a longing to experience a well known spectacle, but only realizing that it’s no different than waiting hours for the Indiana Jones ride in Disney Land.

It’s worth it because you don’t know exactly how it’ll turn out. It’s an adventure that is never ending but always enduring. The risk of potential disaster is overcome by the endorphin driven excitement of living the moment. Yolo, in a sense, works here. It’s always surprising how attached people are to the set structures of their daily lives, pushed by societal needs to survive and do well. I’m guilty of this in a lot of ways, and I feel that almost everyone have to be somewhat attached. It’s the human condition. But there’s a balance of risk vs. reward here. I mean people risk their lives every day biking or driving to work. We risk our lives so that we can achieve something meaningful.

For now, I have some time to myself to contemplate the decisions of forthcoming challenges.  Luckily, musician Erika Wennerstrom and photographer Nathan Presley collaborated on a piece that expresses how I currently feel:

via Nathanael T. Presley Photography

3000 miles of road ahead of me.  Goodbye for now, California!  More pictures to come.