Wednesday, July 30, 2008

Bug Bites and Battle Scars


“Boys, it’s OK if you get the clap; at least it means you’re gettin’ some.” This tarnished pearl of wisdom seemed ridiculous when Shawny’s dad imparted it on us back in high school, but, now that I’m older, I can see that perhaps it holds a bit of truth.

The memory of this conversation is recalled as I sit at my desk with throbbing, blistered feet and a body pocked with mosquito bites resembling the waiting room at the Zit’n’Pimple acne clinic. These are a few manifested memories of this past weekend’s 24-mile backpacking adventure. Normally we think of pain and discomfort as negative things, but for those of us who sit at desks week in and week out, they can be pleasant reminders of weekend adventures. How many of you have a favorite scar? I know I do.

The balance between safety and adventure can be tricky. Society sends us mixed messages. We’re perpetually being told that the world is a dangerous place and that we need to seek refuge. Terror alerts, home alarm systems, protective padding for virtually every sport, tazers and mace are all things that we are urged to place between us and the hostile world. Yet at the same time, we are sold products such as pre-washed/pre-torn jeans, aviator jackets, tan-in-a-can, camouflaged gear, and a plethora of other products to give us the appearance that we live rugged outdoor lifestyles.

The whole thing can be darned confusing. Shawny’s dad is no longer with us, though it would be nice to call him for the occasional “should I stay or should I go” council. These days I look to what I call “my deathbed self.” I go into the future and ask the happy, shriveled figure what I should do. Ultimately, he’s the one I have to answer to anyway. On many occasions he says “stay,” but once in a while I hear, “what the hell, go for it, that’s what shots are for.”

This isn’t an article condoning unprotected sex or taking stupid risks. I don’t even know if the Clap still exists. I just know that I’ve heard more than one person this past fortnight lament that summer is almost over and they haven’t taken the time to have any fun. The truth is, we haven’t even reached our half-way point. Padding or not, get out there and enjoy.

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

1737Miles




When Paulie hit send last deadline and our paper began its journey to the printers, I blasted out of the office like Luke and R2D2 leaving the exploding Death Star. The only casualty from last fortnight's 1737 mile adventure was the untimely demise of thousands of unsuspecting insects. Fortunately, the thrills outnumbered the carnage.


It was a glorious spring in the Yampa Valley this year. The abundance of snow this past winter has kept the hills green and the Yampa and Elk rivers flowing. Something about the ideal spring and early summer has given me the "leave the party while it's still raging" urge. Subsequently, when last issue came out on the 3rd of July, I decided to escape to the woods where traffic and fireworks wouldn't disrupt my flow. The woods I chose were in the Grand Tetons where our friends the Rainbow Family were gathering.


Coming from the south, Rock Springs was the last big town I went through before taking a right at Boulder, Wyoming and heading into the woods. Unlike two years ago, I only passed one officer, two hitchhikers and some cars before parking my motorcycle right at the front gate, trading my riding clothes for hiking attire and leaving the real world behind.


I was on assignment two years ago when the Gathering was on the front page of the local daily paper almost everyday for a month or more. This time I had the luxury to experience it at my own pace without having to take notes and photos. A kundulini yoga class nourished my body and mind while an edible and medicinal plant walk nourished my body. As in any society, I met people I would steer clear of and people from whom I learned a great deal. I can't say my experience at the gathering wasn't entirely uneventful, but due to space restrictions that info is on my blog:. Scottglackman.blogspot.com.


Trading hat and t-shirt for riding jacket and helmet, I pointed my front wheel west toward the setting sun. This time I passed more than 12 police cars, some going to the gathering and some pulled over to the side of the road. According to the Jackson Hole Tribune, once again I had left an exploding death star, this time consisting of "officers pointing weapons at children and firing rubber bullets and pepper spray balls." By dark I was well on my way to Flaming Gorge, and early the next morning made my way to Steamboat for a quick week of work. Judging by reports from friends, Steamboat's 4th of July wasn't without carnage, either.


I made it through three and a half days of work before being overcome by wanderlust again and vacating Steamboat, this time to rally with adventure riders in Silverton, deep in the jagged recesses of the San Juan Mountains. Three days of alternating roller-coaster like riding over passes and valleys broken up by slide shows from people who have ridden around the world on motorcycles similar to mine, made it almost impossible to come home. I fear I'm getting addicted to the solitary life of traveling long distances on two wheels. I can already tell that by the end of the summer my report card won't say "plays well with others." More likely, I'll be reprimanded for playing too much with myself.

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

Somewhere over the Rainbow





“If she pukes, tip the litter to the side,” I let my wilderness first responder lapse years ago, but it didn’t matter to the woman writhing in pain, she was just happy that she would soon be at the road and on her way to medical attention. I was glad that I opted for sleep the night before and didn’t partake in the 4th of July festivities.

A few days before when we put the current issue of The Local to bed I knew that I didn’t want to be in Steamboat for the 4th of July. I wanted to spend the 4th in the woods far from cars and traffic. My choices were Conundrum Hot Springs outside of Aspen or the Rainbow gathering outside of Jackson, Wyoming. I opted for the Rainbow Gathering. Conundrum will always be there and the Gathering only happens once a year. When the Rainbow Gathering happened outside of Steamboat two years ago, I hitchhiked in, stayed a night and wrote a story about it. That gathering made the front page of the Steamboat Today paper almost everyday for two months that summer. When I got there that year I had a great experience, but I was rushed because of a deadline. This time I was free from Thursday until Monday morning.

This would be my first multi-day motorcycle journey, and when I tightened the strap that lashed my pack to my bike and kicked it into gear, I was overcome with elation. It was as if the rabble of butterflies in my stomach could fly me to anywhere that had anything resembling a road.

Steamboat to Craig, Craig north to bags and I-80 and I-80 to Rock Springs where 191 led north to Boulder, WY, and the dirt roads that led to the gathering. I stopped for some gas along I-80 and was sitting outside eating a banana and listening to the guy in the car next to me spewing random Wyoming facts. “Wyoming is number two in the nation for lack of population density. 2.5 people per mile. This is an energy state. They’re offering truck drivers $1000 sign on bonus and all they do is drive gas to the rigs and back to refill, and they get paid $95,000 a year.” He went on and I watched a deer sprint down the street. When he left a Halliburton Truck took his spot. I followed the deer and sprinted to where pavement became dirt.

I learned a couple things on that stretch. First, the best way to become comfortable traveling 65 miles per hour on my motorcycle is to spend a half hour doing 85. I also found out that I get 100 less miles per tank driving that way. Eventually I took a right and crossed the sage lands following the pines and mirror ponds as they led me to the ever-growing Tetons. I only saw one police car, but only after it turned on its lights and sped around me. Eventually I got to the back gate and parked right along the fence. Leather jacket and helmet were replaced by t-shirt and felt hat, and I covered my motorcycle and walked the 2.5 miles to the first kitchen and campfire. I was cheered (and munched) on by mosquitoes every step of the way.

When I got to the Warrior’s of Light camp I walked into the woods to find a spot for my tent that wouldn’t get the early morning light. My trusty North Face Tadpole was up in minutes and I wandered down to sit around the fire.

Many kinds of people attend Rainbow Gatherings. There are lots of hippies, some punks, some who are there to hide and some who are there for freedom to express themselves spiritually and artistically. It’s amazing how many great musicians are there. That first evening I did more singing than talking, backing up guitars, drums, and various other stringed instruments. Eventually I decided to walk the dark path into the woods. After all, this was only the camp on the perimeter.

“That must be where the party is,” I wondered out loud to a dark figure passing in the woods.

“That’s the Christian camp.” He replied. The drums and chanting echoed through the forest. I kept walking past many camp fires with people singing and playing music. Eventually I started to hear a deep rumble and followed it until it led me to a giant bonfire and three levels of people around it dancing, singing and playing drums. If Dionysus was going to show up at the gathering, it was here that he would be. This is what I was looking for. The drums eventually entranced me and I danced around the fire until the metal pendent around my neck threatened to burn its image into my chest. Then I stood on the upper level until the sweat dried and went on my way back to find my tent.

I was disoriented and took many paths through the forest. I finally found one that felt right and got in step with a woman who began singing a beat. I joined in and we sang harmonizing together about her birthday which had just begun. When the song finished I wished her a happy birthday and she gave me a huge hug and said thank you and goodnight. When she walked off I looked up and a star shot across the sky.

The next morning was the 4th of July. At the Rainbow Gathering the 4th is a day of silence where everyone prays and meditates for peace. The silence lasts until noon when everyone gathers around the main meadow, joins hands and begins to chant OM. The OM went on for about ten minutes during which time the cloudy sky directly above us began to part and a ray of sunshine lit up the circle. Traditionally at the gathering the morning’s silence ends with the children’s parade. When the children marched in everyone cheered, hugged and drumming and dancing commenced in the center of the circle. I opted to go to Yoga Camp and spend the afternoon learning from a kundalini yoga master.

By dinner time I was thoroughly high from the yoga and really hungry. I ran into a pizza kitchen on my walk back and had some pizza made in wood fired ovens. I was glad the meat eaters’ line was short. I also stopped by Jerusalem, the kosher Jewish camp where they were celebrating Shabbat by dancing and singing prayers. The devoutness in this camp was moving but I was still in shorts from the morning sans flashlight and I had only a few minutes until it would be too dark to find my tent. I made it just in time.

My cellular phone tucked in the mesh pocket in my tent told me it was 9:45. It was the teetering point. I could either suit up for evening with some warm clothes, some musical instruments and a thirst for nighttime fun or listen to my blistered feet that had already carried me ten-plus miles. I listened to my feet, put some earplugs in and drifted with the smoke through the trees and up to dream with the stars.

Side note:

While I was sleeping, Steamboat Springs was having one of the craziest Independence days ever. There were people getting hit by cars, falling face first and needing major plastic surgery, drinking tiki oil and getting rushed off by ambulances and others getting into major fights. The fireworks show even got cut short when the explosives went off prematurely messing up the computer system and causing the people around them to have to hide behind trees for their safety. These are only a few of the stories I heard. I’m glad I wasn’t in Steamboat.

I woke up after ten hours of sleep and wandered to find some coffee. On my way I passed the medic tent and was recruited to help carry Ashley, a woman who was screaming with kidney pain. Six of us rotated carrying the litter over rocks and through mud for the 2.5 miles to the parking lot. It felt good to be doing work in a place where if I wanted to, I could do nothing but relax and find the next kitchen serving food for three weeks. We finally got her to a car who raced her to the nearest hospital about an hour and a half away. I was glad I got to drink that cup of coffee before the journey.

I still had one day left before I had to be at work. I could spend another day at the gathering or head out and have a day of camping somewhere quiet before landing back in Steamboat. I opted to take a dip in the river, pack up and make that 2.5 mile trek again where my bike was comfortably covered and waiting quietly for me. It started immediately with no choke and only one push of the starter. It wanted to get out of there.

I must have passed 24 cars on my way out. 12 were police waiting on the side of the road and 12 were driving slowly and kicking up dust. I just waved and smiled as I zoomed past them. Thank goodness for an on/off road motorcycle.

That evening I stopped for a shrimp cocktail and a margarita at a Mexican restaurant in Rock Springs and then headed south on 191 until finding a sage prairie to lay my head.

Six Antelope greeted me when I woke up and bade me a safe journey home through Flaming Gorge, Vernal, Dinosaur and back to Steamboat where the hot springs comforted my travel weary body.

The soreness in my arms from carrying the litter is going away. I only hope Ashleigh got to the hospital and is feeling better. Outside the brewery where I’m writing this, my motorcycle is waiting patiently. Tomorrow morning it goes in for new tires and by tomorrow night we will be heading to Silverton for a Horizons Unlimited meeting for adventure riders who have or plan to ride around the world. A full day of work followed by six hours of riding, tomorrow; I’m ready!


Here's a link to a recent story: http://www.jacksonh olestartrib. com/articles/ 2008/07/05/ news/wyoming/ b6f13c1e81260414 8725747d0005a3c0 .txt

Wednesday, July 2, 2008