561 Mile Saturday Night

Over the last 15 years of travel, I have only three times driven over 500 miles between saturday and sunday events. 

Yesterday began at 5 a.m. with a spirited unloading of the circus. Great sun and conversation. Live music and a bouncy castle at this true paddle festival.

No time for dinner. Nosh on nuts and vegis in the vehicle. Later that night, a microwavable rice and curry pouch at a truck stop in Corning California is whipped up.  Thermosed for a paced consumption. 

I drove until 2 a.m. hauling my heavy trailer for the challenging 250 miles of Northern California and Southern Oregon. It would be no problem in a lightly loaded car. Having lost a transmission and drive train on the same road years ago, my nerves were strung a bit tight. Smashing 15 canoes just last week in Montana helps you realize just how fast the $#÷/ can hit the fan.

I spent some of my drive thinking about the demo I just attended. I am sure there are a lot of tired folks sleeping well in their beds just miles away from the event site. I slept for 3.5 hours inside of a dark trailer still fresh with the smells of the day prior. Sand, lake water, sunshine and sunscreen lotion. The back of the casino parking lot where I eventually parked and slept in my trailer was quiet. It wasn't until the morning that I realized the lot bordered a cemetery just a few feet away from where my head rested. It is a bit ironic that my nomadic existence pauses briefly at this sedentary and fortified Native American casino. Perhaps the small percentage of my blood that is Sioux is what fuels my disposition toward staying on the move.

5:30 a.m. ... cold in the trailer. Quickly assemble the stove and boil water for my French press and instant oatmeal while the truck engine warms to continue the battle up and down the hills of Southern Oregon.

I miss my kids. I miss Karyn. Just a few days ago my third child  said his first words," Thank you". My daughter's first word was "duck" and my middle child's first word was "Harper", the name of his older sister. And this third child, Chase, says "thank you". I was able to catch this wonderful moment via a quick email video. I am thankful they're all healthy and am grateful for Karyn's strength and all of our friends and family that help her while I am away.

Here is a text I just received from her describing their morning:
"paxton just told me to like Harper's project better than his. When I asked why, he said he wanted her to be happy. the sweetest brother ever."

I can not take responsibility for this kind kinship but I am going to take inspiration and try to practice selfless love at the event I will attend today. 

Today's small event is rewarding because you have time to make new friends and share in some stories. We all try to paddle with that playful spirit that I so often have to miss seeing in my children.

Montana Wins Again

Sun and no snow isn't as nice as I thought. 50 mph winds flipped my trailer.  I knew this could happen and was trying to make it to Bozeman. 30 miles into my drive and I had a different surprise.

Displacement

On Wednesday morning, I woke in Todos Santos Mexico. Little baby chase was in the crib provided and cooing. The waves crashed in the distance and the light layer of fog and clouds was still present. Soon to be heated away by the rising sun. Harper and Paxton were sleeping on the two beds arranged in an L shape. Our bed on the other side of the room, furthest away from the coast, faced the doors and windows. Our last day in Mexico.

Two hour drive in our rented Jetta to the south end of the Baja Peninsula. Rental car return. Then the flight check, which is never short when you have a lap infant. San Jose del Cabo-Phoenix-LA-Redmond OR. Home finally at 10pm. Travel with a 5, 4 and 1 year old is work and we were tired.
However, by 11pm, my bags were emptied and laundry was going. By noon the next day my truck was packed. Small kitchen bag, groceries, travel guitar, back seat bed made up, mobile office, water, clothing, rep samples.

Sixteen Northstar canoes to be picked up in Billings MT, 900 miles away. Sunset along hwy 97 north from Bend is always a nice reward. The mountains to the west glow from white to red and tactfully contrast the rolling grass lands I travel. The gorge heading east. 395 north to 90 east to Spokane. That night the Pilot station in Ritzville is my parking spot. The next day I visit dealers in Spokane WA. By Noon, I settle in to drive 600 miles east. A visit in Missoula breaks the drive briefly. Finally, MT delivers some nice weather to me in late March. Usually, I get frosted and blown right back home. I return swearing off late winter visits to the big sky country. Not this time. Billings at 1030pm. Done.

2 countries, 6 states in 48 hours.