Merry Christmas

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rv7NWjUyHug

I love that the link has 'Hug' on the end of it...........

Today It's Your Birthday

4o years ago today, a beautiful and precocious baby Ginger was born to two loving, and expectant parents. She was their first together, a symbol of love's enduring power, spanning the Atlantic ocean and forever binding Liverpool, England with Vancouver, BC. It was this unique blend of The Beatles and Uncle Ernie's farm that created the sensational woman we know today: Bonnie Katherine Kilroe. With a passion for entertainment, and a sincere love for every living creature, she leaves a lasting impression wherever she goes. She certainly did for me.

Bonnie taught me about love, about what it takes to surrender to someone and trust. Those fragile, and tentative first steps towards each other began on the beach without a stitch of clothing to cover ourselves. It was her who offered an invitation to see each other again, and I gladly accepted, albeit in a cool, calm fashion. She rolled into the patio of that Yaletown restaurant literally, looking outrageous in her summer dress and rollerblades. Chastising me for looking at her profile as we bladed around Stanley Park, she showed a unique, and so rare side many of us prefer to cover up: her shyness and vulnerability. I proudly guided her through the darkness, as we had continued into the summer evening, avoiding pot holes and obstacles along the way. We spent much time learning to trust each other, and eventually fall in love.

Her ability to juggle the needs of others, and her own, and still be a working performer, left me wanting to protect her and control her actions to minimize any pain. She steadfastly refused to change, and had the courage to deal with life however fast and furious it may have come. We supported each other, and every time I left because I wouldn't let myself show, or feel any intense emotions, she would take me back and give it another shot. She is a testament to love, a testament to inner strength, and believing in possibility.

I had an almost imperceptible desire to love and be loved when we first met, but her fortitude, and belief in the power of love, made me want to be a better man. We had an amazing time together and I am so fortunate our paths crossed, and blessed to have known this beautiful woman. The world is such a better place with Bonnie in it. I am such a better man as well.

At ease

I had the wonderful opportunity to meet a family of 5 kids and mom in Eastern Guatemala. They were all so relaxed, friendly, and laid back. I don't think any of them really cared what kind of car they drove, or how big their house was, or what XBOX game they want to play. It was a rare opportunity to see children authentically excited to get something that would give them hours of fun play time. A vendor just happened to walk by with a basketball, so for $7.50 I hoped I made a positive difference. They were so pumped, excited, happy just to have one thing.

Mexico City

I've spent the afternoon at a cafe near the Zona Rosa, and despite feeling very good, I want to ruin it with making everybody happy. The feeling will pass, and I will continue my journey.

I love you all.

I am meeting my friend Marivy who went to Tamwood School as an ESL student when I was a teacher there in 2006. She has kindly offered for me to stay at her house while I am here, and miraculously she has classes very close to where I am at, again near the WTC. I will meet her there between 6 and 6:30 pm. She is meeting some friends tonight, and has invited me along, so it will be more opportunity a practicar mi espagnol, y mi amistad.

Despite sitting in a well-to-do french-style cafe, it is not innoculated against the occassional vendor coming in to sell things, from music to bee pollen to knickknacks and food. Small children too, just out on the street selling. I find my emotions got to me a bit when I saw this, and had to buy something from one of them. But it was incessant. I had to say no. My opinion, they're much better off than a kid who gets to play Grand Theft Auto on the Playstation all day.

Recovering People Pleaser

Like a smoke from that cigarette, or that next fix, saying or doing what I think people want to hear can be such an easy way to keep anxiety at bay. I may be going the opposite direction now by isolating myself a bit, and keeping to myself. Either way, the Puerto Vallarta experience comes to an end, and a truly worthy respite from the road. It has been a time of thoughts, about the past present and future. The time with Bonnie was nice. The opportunity to stay at the beautiful Casa del Puente on her suggestion was out of this world - for $40 a night. The sound of the river rushing by was so relaxing, and I felt like a king living in a 1200 square foot hacienda all to myself. I've been exploring opportunities to write about mines in Mexico considering all the hype from the 33 miners saved in the Chilean desert. I have struggled with my own confidence about writing, and realized it is indeed a matter, simply of persistence. As Ron Joyce of Tim Horton's fame once said, it is the only thing that matters. Reading lots of Vanity Articles from a 2000 issue, and in stories about Tom Cruise, and Jack Kerouac, it really told me a lot about not only the importance of believing in oneself no matter what, but also the idiots out there who will try to bring you down, as a result of their own fear. Jack and I shared a few difficult personality traits, not the least being the incessant need to be liked by everyone. Impossible to survive a life in public with this type of idea. Must create a new way of thinking, or perish.

I had setup an account with couch surfing last night, and my first attempt to find a couch was unsuccessful. The gentleman with the couch said I had obviously run out of money and wanted a free room for the night. He surmised this because I had copy and pasted my request, as I had sent a request to a few people. I thanked him for his feedback over a couple emails, and moved on, despite feeling a bit hurt by the accusation.

Off to Guadalajara!

I love you all very much, and hope you are well.

My Bonita

Bonnie was not happy with these pictures being broadcast around the world. I was. A couple times she mentioned her disdain for them and how she wanted them gone. Totally understand. Obviously, when someone asks you to take their pictures off, you do. Well, I didn't. This wasn't some form of cruel punishment in my mind; I liked the pictures. Sure, if I really look at the pictures, I could see how my Bonnie's face looks a bit contorted and silly, but I'm not going to that place of causing another human being irrepairable harm to themselves or their character.

I'm thinking dating me is somewhat like dating Howard Stern - a public figure who will publicize his, and his partner's innermost thoughts, feelings, and interactions for the world to see. It can be a drag.

Do you believe the truth shall set you free? I'm willing to die for my truth. I've died a thousand deaths trying to be what I thought people wanted me to be.

When I took these shots, i wanted to share with the world how amazing my girlfriend is for coming all the way to Puerto Vallarta, donning a motorcycle helmet, and heading out to god knows where in another country. I was filled with hope and optimism for all of us, just from one person's actions. Nothing is impossible for us, and our world.

Taking a fork in the road here conversationally, I think it's hard to really relate to someone's actions, and all the thoughts, considerations, and inspirations for them until you are really there..... a 'walk a mile in his moccassins' adage to the nth degree. For some, it would be incomprehensible to do just what Bonnie did, without even a 2nd thought.

And another fork: Eleanor Roosevelt (bless her heart) once said "I will only give my opinion when it is asked of me." Fair enough. Smart woman, and well versed in human relationships. What if that person does not have the ability to ask for advice? What if that dog on the street has no owner to take care of it tonight? How about this: Respect a person's need to write their own life's story, but offer them a candlelight with which to see it from? I believe we can help each other so much, but to offer help carries a great, great responsibility and should not be carried lightly.

Now, back to the front page: under these circumstances, it's virtually impossible to really understand someone's choices when you consider the environment, their mood, situations in their day, the people they're with, the weather, their personality, the people who influenced their lives, their ability to deal with stress, how many tequila shooters they had, and so on, and so on. There are a million and one reasons to misunderstand each other, and only one to understand.

Bonnie and I really had a wonderful week together, and although it's arguably pretty easy to get along in one of the most beautiful places on earth, we had some rough times. These tough times were all created through misunderstandings. When one person is absolutely convinced that the other is doing something with a sole intention to harm, or damage the other, it's hard to come through without the defensive mechanisms coming up. Spines, teeth, claws, poisonous venom: we, as humans have an astounding array of attack, and defense mechanisms far more dangerous and debilitating.

How do we all find the patience, and self-control, to do away with our human need to protect that destroys our intimate relationships, and yet still feel safe enough to function? You make a choice, and you stick with that choice until you go to sleep. When you wake up the next morning, you make another choice. Saying 'forever' for anything can invite regret and disappointment, despite making everyone happy and optimistic for the future. Do our human minds really have the ability to understand, or even adequately deal with 'forever'? Yes, I think it does, on one condition. That condition is that the person recommits to their 'forever' agreement every single day. It could be a diet, an attitude, or a relationship. We're not that different. Sure, some of us know exactly what forever means, and some of us don't. For those who don't, I request that you don't throw it around lightly, and conversely that you don't refrain from using it. Every single one of us has the ability to embrace 'forever', but few of us really know how.

All-Inclusive .

Refusing to fail we committed to return to Bucerias to find my cousin and his wife. Helmets - check. Driver's license - check. They were waiting just outside their all-inclusive, and we got there bang on 1 pm, the latest meeting time agreed upon. We walked back east up the main road into the Royal Decameron resort, and the hot day spurned our hunger and thirst. A small, glorified roadside that looked like a restaurant was our destination, and we were rewarded despite no beer on site. Colin and I went across the street to the OXXO, Mexico's version of 7-11, and rectified that situation with 6 bottles of beer, one large bottle of water, and a pre-mixed Margarita combo compliments of El Jimador for less than $8. Colin and Corrina invited us into their resort without a yellow armband so we creatively hid our wrists. They were anxious to beat the bus crowd back to the airport, so they ushered us onto the beach, ordered us a couple free drinks each, and left within 15 minutes. As the bar staff had seen us already on the beach, they beckoned me on my return to the bike for a frisbee and some water. "Abierto Barra!" Open Bar. "Just a moment," I reply "uno momento senor". Two margaritas and two rum and cokes for Bonnie and I, and it was at least a couple hours before the security guard asked where our armbands were. "Checked out, checked out." We were leaving anyways, with a little taste of all-inclusive on our lips.

Puerto VallIarta UnPlanned

My cousin Colin and his wife Corrina are vacationing in Puerto Vallarta here, and my girlfriend Bonnie flew in last night. My cousin and I had not known we were both going to be here at the same time, and Bonnie and I did. I love both situations. The Scheerschmidts came downtown looking for me, and fortunately found a sign I had written on the white metal grating of the El Sofa Cafe, which had closed at 5 pm as Amaranta headed home. Although we were corresponding by facebook they weren't able to get my full messages, so were waiting at a hotel I told them I was going to stay at. Problem was I wasn't going to be there until the end of the week. Persistence paid off, and the hotel stafffer was knocking on my window to tell me they were at the Hacienda de Vallarta's lobby. We bought booze from the grocery stores and justed walked around without a clue where we were going. We were all noting how exotic things were and felt. A roadside stand provided some excellent quesadillas with chorizo and pork. Rode my motorcycle out to the airport to pick up Bonnie at 945 and had a wonderful reunion. We are in the Zona Romantica after all.

El Rancho

Half an hour ride down the worst country road i´ve ever been on almost getting hit by a car that tries to pass a tractor. It was worth it with a big fiesta for the lady of the ranch´s birthday with the biggest gathering of locals I´ve seen in years. Kids, grandparents, friends all together. We danced to the band and Roman told me to take it easy and follow his lead. This was a place of tradition, not a disco.

Famillia Gamez

We get into a traditional stone and mortar mexican house, and through a doorway covered by a blanket into an oasis of AC. Rom´s sister and mom meet us, and give me the royal treatment having known me for about 1 minute. his promise was true. we talk for about an hour in spanish using about the 50 or so words and phrases i knew to get around. my blue mexican spanish book became my bible. I joked I couldn´t speak spanish at night unless i had a light to check my book as necessary. Toilet has no seat, and shower is a square made out of concrete blocks. I was in heaven.

Sinaloa

I thought it a good idea to strap a Mexican to the back of my bike through arguably the most dangerous area in the entire country, Sinaloa. In actual fact, ´Rom´ was the one who spearheaded the idea, and i hoped there was a snowballs chance in hell we were both going to make it home alive. about a half hour of preps ripping the bike apart and godammn it we were on the road unbelievably. no stopping for gas, because it took so long just to get on the damn bike. she was loaded to the hilt. Guaymachil, the city´s name we were headed to, was morphing into reality in my mind the closer we got, and the further topolabompo and the ferry terminal. The city´s lights came with a welcome sigh about 1 hour 40 after our departure with just one stop, and plenty of wriggling around to save my butt legs and back from complete disaster and permanent damage. I was none too happy when rom´s first stop consisted of a dark house with no lights. It´s late, and i remember rom hasn´t been home in 2 years.

Roman

I get on the ferry and look up the two flights of stairs not thinking i can make it. The 2nd level is the most opulent and modern I had seen since entering the country, by choice. A red leather couch awaits, and I plop down with extremely uncomfortable back pain. Beside me is as young, trendy, dark and handsome Mexican with a black moustache and thick curly hair in a mini pompadour. We had met earlier when he and a 10 year old approache me at the bike outside of the office to ask about my trip. I was a bit grouchy from the pain of exhaustion, and pain in the asses literally and figuratively, but he was so damn charming.

We ended up chatting for most of the 6 and a half hour journey to the mainland, he with broken english, and me with parts of spanish. together, we learned a lot about each other´s language, and lifestyles. He asked me if he could get on my bike and come with me south to his home town. I said no way, the bike is so full impossible. I went from a complete no, to a let´s take the bags and put them on a bus, to let´s put both of us and all our bags on the bike, and take you home. So, that´s what we did.

Lee

At the onset of that long stretch of Southern Baja California desert, I decided to stop to take some photos of the magnificent vegetation. Within a couple of minutes a large white Dodge Dually pickup stops by, and a mean-looking white haired man exits. For some reason I'm feeling fear, and decide to face it head on. "Ola! Como estas!" I offer. No response. "Where you headed to?" he asks, and by now I'm thinking he's some landowner, or someone looking over these parts. I explain what I'm doing, and he softens. He mentions he's from Canada, not knowing where I was from. Turns out he's from Red Deer, about 45 minutes west of my home town.
Lee has been living in La Paz for awhile now, and holds citizenship in 3 countries. I gathered he was a pilot, and certainly fit the bill, with his clean crew-cut, and aviator glasses. He was heading to San Diego to see his daughter, and was forced to drive with only 4 gears, as he had just recently lost his 5th. Our conversation was interesting, and he enlightened me on several topics including flying in Mexico City (high elevation, very difficult), circumventing foreign ownership laws (the bank holds title to your property only as a national representative), and drug cartel business dealings (plata o plomo, which, literally translated means 'silver or lead', or do business with us, or die from a bullet).


He left me saying he had simply stopped to water a plant. "Which one?" I asked, thinking "What a nice man! He must be making a memorial for a fallen friend or something." "Oh, I just go out in the bush, and find one, probably that big one with the apples on it" Finally, I realize I've been away from Albertan humour in a while, and abashedly mention I wouldn't be eating any of those apples. We part ways with a giggle, and he comes over to the bike to offer some more advice on the upcoming windy road.

Nervioso

I had a feeling I was going to run into some troubles eventually with my passport, considering I had travelled over 700 km into Mexico without ever showing it.  I had moments of panic, with thoughts of a surrendered passport, be forced to return al the way to Tijuana, or some serious talking to; oh, that desert took it's toll on my state of mind.  I was already running against the wind, with the sun now officially down, and darkness the word of the day.  I pull up to the 'Oficina de Migracion', as noone seemed to be outside.  I was doubly confused after driving through a military zone, and unsure of whether I'd be met with policia, militaria, or a customs officer.  Sooner than expected, a man comes out, and in Spanish says that the office is closed, and that it wouldn't be open until 8:30 am.  I'm crushed.  I could see the lights of Guererro Negro in the distance, and there didn't seem to be any affordable accomodations within sight.  I turn around dejectedly and more than a little nervous about my upcoming sleep outside on the side of the road.  Back through the military installation, I spot some cars on the right hand side of the road, and assume they are people in the same predicament.  I start feeling somewhat better, and considerably less alone.  A restaurant further up seems open with it's 'Abierto' sign in the window, but it's awfully dark.  I ask the young man who pops his head out of the small, yellow &blue framed Corona-coloured kitchen window wall if it is indeed open, and he says it is.  Besides myself the restaurant was empty, save for a couple finishing up their meal.

The gentleman pipes in fairly quickly.  "You from Canada?"  in perfect English.  I tell them all about my trip, and the recent goings-on.  He offers to accompany me to the border after our meals, so I can at least get into town.  He tells me about his $1/2 million place in Cabo San Lucas, and how he's been unable to visit Canada due to some problems with U.S. immigration.  I didn't want to know, but I started getting a bit suspicious although I felt I was in no place to be picky about my associates.  I order a massive plate of shrimp with garlic & butter, which was accompanied with a big wicker basket of Mexican nacho chips and HOT HOT HOT salsa.  My 2nd beer staved off the heat below uncomfortable.  I buy a beer for my new friend's partner, who declines my offer of a Corona but offers her preference for Pacifico.  I was just so relieved to feel ok again I would have bought her a new car at that point.  As we're leaving, the young kitchen worker starts whispering to his female counterpart something, and I'm hoping it's about helping me somehow.  Neither of them spoke any English, so it was a hard go.  I pull out my dictionary, and we come to an understanding:  there is a campground somewhere near, and I'm welcome to stay there.   I follow him out of the restaurant over to the store, which is open as well.  A nice-looking older woman with jet-black hair tied back and glasses is behind the counter.  The young kitchen worker asks something to her in Spanish, and she answers to me in English.  "Yes, you can camp here.  It's $3 a night."  That was Lupita.  Since our lives have so haphazardly joined for a moment, things have been full of promise.  

Thousand Oaks, CA

*M*A*S*H* was filmed in these hills. What a short commute for the actors like Alan Alda who may have lived in Thousand Oaks! Finish the shoot, and be in the pub for 9. It would be rare these days to have such a successful, and long running show. The 1960's boosted the area's prominence when the first of the large scale developments came to town. Since then, 'T.O.', as the locals call it, has become one of the safest, best places to live in the United States. Such a contrast to L.A. Big on families, and community, this city has a small-town feel and all that a metropolis has to offer.
We all went down to see Michael's brother Alex play flag football. The coach was pretty intense, but he seemed responsible with how he communicated to these kids, and also to give them inspiration. This was followed up with a multi-birthday party at Mark and Sheila's house. Michael, his brother Alex, Uncle Earl, and Great Grandma all have birthdays in the same month, so we had a whole bunch of tri-tip steak, bbq chicken, ceviche, home-made salsa & chips, and wine/beer. They have a big, gorgeous house with a huge backyard that goes down into the valley, with a swimming pool and hot tub too. The house was full of kids, laughter and good times.
Paula and I had a wonderful walk through a local park here, that boasted several horse trails with magnificent scenery. I'd never seen so many cacti in my life. Michael's friend made some prickly pear jelly and I tried it, almost like strawberry, but like rhubarb needs a lotta shuga. Seems I was so impressed I just couldn't stay out of them. It was the first time in 10 days that PJ and I really got to hang out. The outlook of the trip has altered for a moment; I now have some trepidation of the trip, and am reluctant to leave the safe confines of T.O. It has become an impromptu home, but once again, I must leave. Insecurities, fears, doubts, and laziness must be abolished, again and again and again.

Cousin Paula

It's 2:45 am Thursday September 9th, and I'm thinking I will never get to my cousin Paula's. I somehow recalled all the proper directions from I-5: San Diego Freeway, Ronald Reagan Freeway, Highway 23 south to Avenida de los Arboles all the way to Westpark Blvd. Take the first right, and first right again into the parking lot of the complex. Once again, the night was so very cold on the bike, and it was a relief to finally stop. Paula's complex seemed massive, and despite the roar of the motorbike, we were unable to connect. I finally asked a security guard, who told me to consult with the directory at the entrance, so I did. Suddenly, I see two figures walking towards me - ok, I'm here. Paula's husband Michael is a bit of a night owl, so my late arrival didn't bother him too much. Paula conversely was expecting me at 11 pm, and had called the DMV and highway patrol to see if I had turned up anywhere.
Paula and I became closer when she moved to Vancouver to be an actor. I was apprehensive at first about this relative I'd have to take care of, but she charmed me to the point I told her she could move in with me. She ended up staying for 9 months. An eternal light of sunshine, and such a positive, loving, person Paula is a gem. I wonder if she was happy to return the favour.

Burning Man Exhibit F

Make no doubts about it. If you want to meet new people, go out in the middle of the searing desert, and camp in your tent for a week. As I had only arrived Thursday night, and many of my camp-mates were there since Sunday, I felt it was a wise decision to stay through Monday, and leave bright and early Tuesday morning, just to get a more well-rounded experience to match. This choice paid off in spades, as I got to know a man by the name of Danger (on left), who was camping next to us, Anne and Omid. The playa dust covered us all, especially me since the Burning Man initiation. We were laughing so hard, because it took about 20 minutes for this picture to be. It was an exceptionally cool evening, and I chose to don my leathers for the first time since Thursday night.
Anne and Omid were unable to change their reservation for the hotel that night, so we all worked together into the night pack their car. Pack, push, pull and stuff more accurately. After they left, Danger thought it would be a good idea to jump on the bike with me and roam around. Although this contravened the official BM code of ethics, we somehow justified it. As the camps had dwindled, it would be that much easier to find some action. After climbing up into a wooden loft, and a couple other impromptu gatherings, we came upon the Tuna Camp. There was a smattering of food left for the 40 or so people there; unbeknownst to us, this was the legendary location of the Tuna Boys, who bring in thousands of pounds of sushi grade tuna from Oregon every year, and purposely avoid advertising their location due to unprecedented popularity. Since the food would not be featured on this week's Food Network episode, I feel it would be much more valuable for you to read about Danger.
Danger has been living out of his van for 14 years, and looks like he could be a cop or businessman, eats healthy and looks it. He has chosen this life, and achieves personal growth at a phenomenal pace. The odd stripping gig in Oregon floats the boat, but for the most part, he just makes a go of it by helping others, and an unemployment cheque. He inspired me for the freedom he has achieved, and his attitude on life. Always smiling, often laughing, and open to every experience life has to give him, he is a joy to be around. I asked him once "wouldn't it be easier to just get a job and do whatcha gotta do?" He said "no way man, this is the life for me. I have everything I need, and then some. Whenever I need something, it just shows up. I can't stop now." It begs the question, "what do we really need to live a good life?"

A Parent's Concern

I finally had to tell mom "It's going to be ok". The final moments of departure from the farm were filled with concerns of this or that. Once I was able to find the ipod that my sister hid on me (she actually told me where she put it, but I had forgotten), I was assured. A quick, and simple goodbye Chapman style was performed at the gas station, and I put my hand on my mom's head and told her "I'll see you soon". Iknow this experience has been very difficult for them, but despite their feelings and fears, they came through for me with an outpouring of huge support. From dad's I let them. Mom even thought she had to tell me Burt Cox used to wear these gloves every winter shovelling snow for me to wear them. I would have tried them anyways, but she was right, and I'm glad as they have saved my fingers through the cold morning. I am simply in awe of a parent's love, who, will do everything in their power to convince you to be safe, and still support you in doing what you need to do to feel alive.

Goodbyes

As record low temperatures for August 28th began to fall, I was desperately trying to breath some warmth into the numbness of my fingertips and toes. The intermittment rain that started south of Jasper continued to Pocahontas, where I invariably chose to follow the neon 'Open' sign at the establishment just off highway 16. My gratitude was lengthened as the server in the restaurant surprised me by saying "You can stay here as long as you like". Welcome words, as I looked outside and saw the rain intensify. Hinton was as far as I could mentally see myself getting to that night, and the wonderfully warm and exciting ride through B.C. was a distant memory.
As I headed out from Hinton at 7 am the next morning with my breath billowing out of my helmet, I was spurned on by the thoughts of friends in Edmonton waiting for me. A nice, warm breakfast beckoned as well. The frantic driving to somehow beat father time created more than a few casualties: a backpack cover, a pair of pants, and a tent. The first two flew off somewhere between Jasper and Hinton, and the third was dragging beside the bike for a few minutes before a friendly motorist signalled to me with a gesture. It was Day 2 of a 7 month journey, and I had already experienced utter disappointment. My favourite tent, the one I hand-picked from MEC with $300 of my own hard-earned savings, was toast. Again, my thoughts came back to the wonderful friends waiting for me in the city.
Waited they did. 1 3/4 hours after our agreed meeting time at the famous Barb & Ernie's Guest House in Edmonton, I walked down the hallway only to see them coming out. "Thanks for joining us for breakfast, Jason" my friend sarcastically offered. They were not impressed. I pulled them out to the bike, now full of duct tape and looking a mess. All vehemence dissipated, and the 6 friends now were feeling quite sorry for me. Of course, we all had to laugh at the state of it. Rapid-fire questions ensued: "Why are you going?" "What direction are you heading?" "How long are you gone for?" I did my best to be patient despite my tiredness and physical pain.
The eventual drive to Stettler came off without a hitch. It included a friendly biker from Three Hills that stopped to make sure I was ok soon after the Bashaw turn-off. I told him I just needed to catch the sliver of sunshine that poked through the clouds, as it did more than warm me up. He ended up escorting me the rest of the way.
Rounding Buttermilk Slough, a most idyllic scene appeared. The grey clouds that sat in the sky had parted for a moment, catching reflections from the sun, which was doing double-duty by making the water shimmer. It was to be a sign of better things to come: within a couple hours of arriving at my parent's farm south of Stettler, 17 relatives showed up to wish me luck. The mood was so touching, I couldn't see myself getting back on that bike ever again. To have such an outpouring of advice, attention, and love was a warming feeling.
That was yesterday, and now today soon ends. The road beckons, and 24 hours of driving await me before my next destination near Gerlach, Nevada. This will be done in less than 2 days, but the memories of this day will accompany me on the road. As the sun was setting tonight, it caught the dandelions' fuzz and illuminated them as if they had an inner light. The stars soon came out and dazzled the sky. After such a harrowing ride, my body still feels a chill, but my heart is warm. The sentiment of 'There's no place like home' rings true, and will motivate me to come back in 7 months, physically intact with a smile on my face from a wonderful adventure.

Turnaround

Bone Chilling winds, rain and stoppages in 10 minute increments of hands-to-groin handwarming technique from 7 am Hinton time to 12 pm Edmonton time. Damage: $300 tent from MEC, waterproof bag both destroyed beyond repair, a pair of pants and MEC backpack cover lost between Jasper and Edson. All came to an abrupt end in my thoughts as I rounded ButterMilk Slough back home. The sun was reflecting off of a mass of grey, fluffy clouds into the shimmering water. It was no Club Med, but it felt like home. Although there seemed to be noone around the homestead, as I was expecting a crowd by the fire, cousin Larry popped out by the time I got off the bike. Within an hour there was a room full of cousins, aunts and uncles, numbering over 20. We haven't had a group like that in 25 years here. Rosco donated a replacement tent and bag, and I shot a couple memorable moments by video and camera. I'm just way too tired to do anything except lay down. I just want to bliss out with some old Archie comics, or National Geographic. The problem is, I sent them all to the Thrift Shop in town, so that I could mentally, and emotionally move on from my childhood. Well, like a DTES skid craving a recent addiction, I am on the move for one of those old goodies. I'm feeling guilty!