On The Road

My good friend Joe, who despite freezing temps and a less than desireable forcast saw me all the way to Portland

This is a motorcycle trip, not a ski trip. Shortly after leaving Portland I was hotel bound.
 

I cracked open the throttle around 9:30 in the morning of december 29th. As I left the Seattle area the air was a cold and the skies were filled with a few clouds warning of the coming weather. Cold rushed through my helmet causing my tear coverd cheeks to feel the sting of the cold wintery air. Its hard to still feel the excitement that I had a year ago when I purchased my first map and looked at it like an excited child reading a new comic book. I know that this feeling is normal and it should eventually pass...

After all of the tinkering with the bike, saving up money, reading guidebooks, etc, etc, it is the love and confidence of Emily, my family, and my friends that have made this trip a reality. Emily has a enough confidence for boths of us and then some. Every time I doubted, she took my hands, looked into my frustrated eyes and, said "you will make this dream happen!". For this, I admire her strength. I admire her willingness to set feelings of comfort aside to support me on this journey. I have felt so loved and honored these past weeks prior to my departure. Thank you all for helping nurture this dream, and helping me see with greater clarity. It is hard for me to imagine being surrounded by more caring and loving people. You are all in my hearts. Thank you so much for making it so apparent that I am also in yours.

Getting Ready

When I was a little bit younger my alarm would pierce the darkness at 4:30 a.m. and by 4:40 I'd be out the the door en route to a distant climbing site. Actually I was en route to Dunkin' Donuts because it could always be easily arranged that one of these fine establishments was ALWAYS on the way to any climbing site in the northeastern US. (and yes, they are open that early). As it turns out, preparing and planning for a ride to South America isn't quite that easy. The quick recipe is: come up with loads of dough, buy a motorcycle, become a motorcycle mechanic, learn Spanish (didn't do so well at this one), buy maps, buy guidebooks, become more of a tech junkie, get some shots in your arm that make you feel like crap for a week, learn about the current events in 12 countries, figure out which comes first Peru or Bolivia, become a neat freak so you can actually fit all of the junk you probably wont need on your bike, ride the bus alot cause' you sold your truck and bought a motorcycle in the middle of winter, say yes anytime anyone says do you want to work on anything, pretend you lost your license, registration , and title so they'll give you new ones, and maybe the most important...break in your motorcycle boots so you can walk more than ten feet before your heels are bleeding.

And then, if you want to know what really makes a trip like this one come to fruition look around at all of those people around you that offer you their love and support.

The Beginning

Some seven or eight years ago I had a fleeting dream...to ride across the Americas on a motorcycle.  I shared this thought with a close friend and climbing partner of mine and for a few seconds we thought it was possible.  This dream quickly passed out of our consciousness as we proceeded to tend to the daily workings our lives. At the time I even had a motorcycle that could one day be the steed that would accompany me on such an adventure.  So, out of a sense of fear, lack of time, lack of commitment, or just plain lack of genuine interest we did not pursue the idea past the "wouldn't be cool if..." stage.   Looking back, I prefer to believe that we were not compelled to follow through with the idea because it was not the right time in our lives.  Whether it comes from a deep "knowing" within, or through some other spiritual conduit we knew that we were not ready to commit to all of the learning that could come from such a massive undertaking.  And so the idea that arose as little more than idle chit chat fell further and further into distant memory.

Until one day...

Somewhere in my subconscious backpack of junk I found a ball of tinder.  The little swiss army knife carrying 10 year old version of myself quickly produced a match to see how well this tinder might burn.  Within seconds the tinder of memory was ignited and I found myself adding small twigs of new ideas and soon the sticks of dreams; before I knew it my mind was ablaze with ideas...
I halfheartedly said to Emily "I think I would like to take the long route to the east coast when we decide to move back that way..."
"You know...via Argentina..."

It sounded like a joke, but little did she or I know that the mere utterance of this dream was the fan on the fire.  Before I knew it I was rooting through the gear closet looking for little trinkets that I might sell.  And then,  when I realized that I wasn't going to be able to fund a trip like this selling my crappy old ski boots I looked out the window at my Ford F-150 and thought " now that vehicle needs a little downsizing"...

Within weeks the big red Ford was transformed into a little red Kawasaki and an annual bus pass (thank you so much Geoff!).  A tiny bit of the dream had been manifested into a tangible form.  So now I only needed two or three more trucks to sell and I'd be good to go.  A problem when you only have one...   But this isn't a story about trucks, it's a story about dreams, and dreams don't require trucks... they require faith.  So, here is the part about faith...

Like I said, one day I just found this memory casually dawdling around in my head.  It was sometime in September of 2008, right around the time I attended a workshop around accessing and manifesting your true life dreams.  Before the end of September I called my old friend Jamal, with whom I had not spoken in 3 years.  I left a message on his voicemail, "Hey Jamal, I have been thinking about you and some ideas we had in the past.  Give me a call.."
Within the next day or so I received a message on my phone, "...I have been thinking about riding to South America too..."
Wait a second! Did I mention why I was calling?  It could have been anything; climbing in Yosemite, climbing steep routes on Denali, we had lots of adventurous ideas.  How did he know?  A few months later I sold my truck and Jamal bought his bike at the exact same moment and our sense that we were somehow meant to do this together became deeply apparent.  It felt as though something much bigger than ourselves was telling us that we were finally ready to engage in this type of journey, and indeed it was time.