Home, well, sorta...

I never made it to San Diego. I was swallowed up by the LA vortex. Sometimes it’s good to dip a toe into an experience. I dove in head first. Some of my highlights were having swim races in a friend’s new pool while smoke from dozens of out of control fires blew overhead, screening a film with a producer friend in Hollywood, going to a yoga class with a few yoga teacher friends of mine, chasing a friend around the windy roads between the coast and the 101 as he tried to lose me on his motorcycle, spending two days surfing with a lifeguard friend in El Segundo and finally, spending the day with Cass watching the wildlife in Venice Beach. Two days before I was going to head back to Las Vegas and Steamboat we were staying with some friends in Santa Barbara. The husband asked me if I knew anyone who would be passing through who may want to drive his pickup back to Steamboat. I told him that if my motorcycle would fit in the back, I would be happy to drive it back. It did. The next day I reluctantly loaded Shadowfax in the bed of the pickup, said goodbye and began the journey to Steamboat via Las Vegas where Shadowfax will be spending time in my Dad’s garage. The end of our journey together took me by surprise, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to help someone and avoid having to book a flight back to Steamboat. We logged just over 4,000 miles since 9/11

The drive yesterday was gorgeous. I went between five and 10 mph under the speed limit the whole way. It was great to catch up with friends on the cell phone, something I can’t do on the motorcycle.

When I peeked the front of the truck out of Glennwood canyon, I was pummeled by sideways blowing snow, quite the opposite of the seventy-something weather on the Grand Junction side of things. The snow slowed down and stopped, but when I reached State Bridge, the truck started getting squirrely. The roads looked wet, but when I got out to check on things, it was slicker than an ice skating rink. Thank goodness the truck had four-wheel-drive.

I stopped for an hour in Oak Creek to see my friend and business partner Paulie. It was good to catch up and see how much our lives have changed in the last month and a half. Strangely, I dreaded going home. Sleeping in an apartment that I will need to vacate in the next nine days feels like pressurized limbo. Steamboat fall feels really good. It’s the time that naturally pulls one into nesting mode. This is not my path right now. In the next nine days I plan to give away most of my clothes and furniture and will bring the rest back to my Dad’s house where it will live until my restless spirit is ready to float back to Earth.

In nine days I will have paddled to the mouth of the harbor. The ocean awaits!