Pictures From Madrid (Part 2, Nature)

There are places in Madrid where flowers and trees can grow. Places where the bird songs are louder than the traffic. Places where the air is not fouled by car exhaust and cigarette smoke. I took these photographs at the Royal Botanical Garden of Madrid.

Back From Vacation

The vacation is over and I'm back at home. It was a good vacation, and I'm happy and thankful that I was able to travel with my family and my friend Heather for two wonderful weeks.

Traveling is a privilege, it really is. And I am thankful for the experiences and the good fortune. In the posts that follow I will share a few details from our travels.

Today was my second day at home, and the after vacation transition is going well. During our last night in Madrid, all five of us (see picture) were sitting in our room talking about what we were going to do when we arrived back at home. Most of us were returning to work. Janice, who was leaving her teaching job in Spain, was talking about a vacation of her own.

Although Janice was excited to see her boyfriend Chad, and go on vacation with him, it was hard for her to say goodbye to Spain. She had been living there for almost 9 months. Spain had become her home, the place where she lived and breathed. The place where she slept and walked. She was able to speak Spanish. She could navigate Madrid by memory. Something inside her was telling her not to leave.

It's easy for people to get attached to places. After just a few days our roots start to bury into the ground. And after months the roots may reach great depths. But the waters of life are the when we need them, softening the hard ground and drenching us with possibilities. Roots can be taken up, and moved, and then planted again.

My friend Eli, who I met in the summer of 2006 on the John Muir Trail, spoke eloquently and thoughtfully about transitioning. He was coming off the Pacific Crest Trail, and he was aware of the transitions that he would have to make. After meeting and talking with Eli, I've been more aware of the transitions in my own life. There are big transitions and small transitions, but they must be made. And being more aware seems to make the transitions easier and more enjoyable.

Standing in our hotel room in Madrid, I tried to think of the right words to help us with our transition away from Spain. I looked down at the glass of wine in my hand. Then I looked up. "Your body connects the dots of your life," I said. Not my best quote, but it seemed to get the point across. With legs and wallets and cars and planes we move ourselves around. Life goes on. Transitions happen, whether we realize it or not. Last week I was thousands of miles from my home, walking the streets of Barcelona and hiking among the Pyrenees Mountains. In the town of Cuenca, I watched my brother pluck a black olive from a tree and eat it. The olive tasted bitter and it turned his teeth purple. And now I'm back at home, sitting in my room, looking at the photographs that have made the transition from my camera to my computer.

Time To Wear The Old Watch

This photo is from May 15, 2007. It was taken in the morning, right after Janice and I woke up and right before we left for the airport. Our bike tour was about to begin.

I'm wearing this same watch right now. I have it on my right wrist. And in just a few minutes, the time on my wrist will match the time in this photo. I guess it's a manufactured coincidence, but that doesn't keep me from enjoying it.

I normally don't wear a watch, but yesterday morning I dusted off the old watch and put it on. I've been busy the last couple days, trying to get things done, and I found the watch to be useful. Later today, in approximately 12 hours, I will leave for the airport with my mother Monica and my brother Chris. When our plane leaves the ground we will be headed to Spain. After we land in Madrid, we will meet Janice and also our friend Heather. Then it's vacation time! Ah, the sweet sound of Vacation. It's one of the most beautiful and moving words in the English language. When you breath deep, and say it slowly, you can feel it down in your toes. I'm excited and happy that we'll get to travel for 2 weeks in Spain.

I just looked at my wrist. Nine more minutes until the time on the watches matches the time in the photo. That gives me time to finish this post, and maybe reread it a couple times.

So you may be wondering about the watch in the picture. What brand is it? Good question. I've been all over that watch, and there's no brand. It says "Alarm Chrono" and also "Chrono Alarm." I bought the watch two years at one of the big box stores outside of Denver, CO. Travis and I were driving west, across the country, and I felt the need to add a portable timepiece to my life. And now, two years later, I'm surprised that the watch is still working. I carried the watch on the John Muir Trail. And I brought it with me last summer on my bike tour. And it still works great.

On the day I bought my watch, as I was standing in the checkout line, I wondered if "A cheap watch is a waste of time," or if "An expensive watch is a waste of time." Which statement is more true? I don't know. One could argue with both statements. Those are simple statements but they could be explored, or perhaps proved, with complex equations. Of course it all depends how you define those words.

But you know what they say about the shoe: if it fits, wear it. And it was Bob Marley who used to sing, "Who the cap fit, let them wear it." Well as long as my watch is still working, I guess I'll keep wearing it. What if I wore it after it stopped working? That would just be weird, but don't put it past me. Darn it! I got carried away writing and I missed the time coincidence that I was going to celebrate at 3:55:36am.

One Week, Four (Known) Coincidences

Coincidences happen. Patterns appear. Ideas come into your head and you think, "Wow, isn't that interesting."

I've been dealing with coincidences for twenty some years. And for the most part, I'm usually happy just to enjoy the coincidences for what they are: an interesting series of events. (Some would say a random series of events.) But with four unique coincidences in about a week's time, I just had to share.

It all started with an email I got from my brother Chris.

Chris saw the picture of the horse that I had recently posted on my blog. Chris realized the coincidence: earlier in the day, he had seen a similar horse on an online video. There's not many places in the world where they wire plastic toy horses to the street. The video that Chris watched documented the same artist (Scott Wayne Indiana) who was surely responsible for the horse that I had photographed.

Because of this coincidence, I actually learned something about the world around me. I always just assumed that the horse I photographed was a random, one off, kind of thing. But my assumption was wrong. That horse was just a small part of something much bigger, the Horse Project.

Ok, next coincidence.

I'll keep this one short. No need for you to wade through excess minutia. This coincidence involves Marley, our 4-year old Siberian husky. Marley went to the dog park and caught (found) a 20 dollar bill with his mouth. Later, that same day, Marley caught a bumble bee, right out of the air, with his mouth. Sadly the bee died. It's a wild world out there folks, what can I say.

Coincidence number three.

I bought a new camera. A Canon digital. I came home from the store and starting making exposure after exposure. Later that night, I pulled Ansel Adams' book An Autobiography off the shelf and start reading while I was lying in my bed. I noticed that Ansel died on April 22, 1984. I checked my watch. My watch said April 22. It was a beautiful coincidence--probably my favorite of the four--and the spirit of Ansel kept me up most of the night.

Last Coincidence. This one's a double-decker.

Yesterday was a writing day for me. I spent the day at home in my office. I immersed myself in the Yosemite chapters of my book. I worked long and hard and took breaks as I needed them. I took a break around 10:00am to walk Marley (believe me, I was waiting for him to catch another strange item with his mouth). I came back from the walk and continued writing. During my next break I sat down on my bed and played my guitar, recording a melody that I had recently created. The guitar (and the recording process) distracted me for about 30 minutes. I felt the day sliding through my fingers and I forced myself to get back to work. I moved back to my writing chair and wrote some more. I looked out the window and saw the sunlight. I was happy to be writing on a sunny day because Yosemite is brilliant and sun filled kingdom--one of my favorite places in the world. I wrote and read and rewrote. The day progressed. During my next break I wrote a few emails and then ventured over to the Apple Trailers website. While sipping a hot cup of coffee, I watched the trailer for Glass, A Portrait Of Philip in 12 Parts. It looked like a good film. I watched the trailer again. There's a fine line between inspiration and procrastination. For the remainder of my writing day, I left the window with Glass Trailer open, so I could watch it whenever I wanted. Philip Glass was a composer that I was barely familiar with. I did some research and found out that Philip and I share the same day of birth: January 31. Interesting, right? Don't worry, there's more.

So later that night, after finishing with the day's writing, I'm lying in bed with my laptop on my chest. As usual, Martin Guitar Masterpieces is between me and my laptop. (The book is just the right size to make a perfect laptop platform/heat shield.) I'm on Youtube, researching some different musicians. I find a Paul Simon video that looks interesting. It's all about the making of Graceland. So I'm watching the video, enjoying the music and the insight, thinking I should listen to more Paul Simon, and then, out of nowhere, the video cuts to Philip Glass, who's adding his own thoughts about Graceland. "No. Way," I think to myself. I bring up the trailer for the Glass movie and watch it again so I can visually confirm the sighting. Yep, it's Philip alright. I smile and sigh and realize how it's the fourth coincidence in the last week or so, not that that's good or bad or anything else. It just is. I'm not looking for meaning. Yet. Or maybe I am. It's hard to say. The thought did cross my mind that maybe I should go to Graceland. I've never been there.

"For reasons I cannot explain there's some part of me that wants to see Graceland."

But no. I ground myself with logic. Cold, clear logic. Coincidences don't tell me what to do. I tell myself what what to do. But what if I tell myself to follow an impulse that came from a coincidence? Surely there are other worlds out there that are driven by forces other than logic? Like the world of love.

I close the Youtube window and watch the trailer for the Glass documentary again. I love that trailer. I wonder when I'll be able to watch the whole film. I wonder what other coincidences I will find as time goes by. I wonder how many coincidences I've missed.

Going Barefoot

Today I bared my feet. I was barefoot for almost all of the day. And if you know me, you will know this is not usually the case. Like many people, I wear shoes. I like the way they feel, especially after they are worn in. I like the way they cushion hard surfaces. I like the traction, warmth, security, and freedom that comes from wearing them.

But I also see the beauty of going barefoot. So today I rolled up my corduroy pants and felt the carpet and the grass and the cold linoleum tile beneath my feet. Why was today a barefoot kind of day? It probably had something to do with the coming of spring. When the weather is warm my feet are less likely to be cold. I don't like cold feet. They distract me and make me feel strange.

Many people, including me, wear sandals. But (as some of you already know) sandals make me lazy, so I normally try to avoid them.

Here's to barefoot days, and beaches, and a good pair of shoes when you need them.

(Oh yeah, in case you're wondering: I took this photograph during last summer's bike tour, on the beach in Pacific City, Oregon.)

Photos From Last Summer

I feel an avalanche of photos getting ready to tumble down off my hard drive. It's 1:31am, a perfect time to do some blogging. Outside my window the night is quiet and dark. A large hardback book (Martin Guitar Masterpieces) sits between my laptop and my lap. I've been going through my bike tour photos and now it's time to share.

Janice really enjoyed this sign. I have no idea what this race is about, but it looks like it will be in August this year.



Portland, Oregon. This horse wasn't going anywhere.











Banana slug. Oregon coastal forest. Our second site for tree sampling. We had to watch where we were walking. These creatures get really big (upwards of 9 inches!) although this little guy was probably only about 5 inches.



Thank goodness for hostels and old guitars.











At the end of the tour, after 100 days in the sun, the cap was more pink than red.




















Living green. My favorite color in the world.












Juggling containers of yogurt in the supermarket. I couldn't help myself.




A ball bearing I found on the side of the road in Oregon.











Central Oregon. I took a bunch of photos here. This place was a true major chord. It reminded me of The Shire from Peter Jackson's The Fellowship Of The Ring.

Backpacking Weekend

It's time to dust off the blog and add a new post. It's been a few weeks, I know. But blogs are like journals--it's always easier not to write. But if the desire is there the writing gets done sooner or later. Desire is very important.

Let's see...my last post was all about things. The day after I wrote that post, I went backpacking with my friend Travis. It felt good to break away from the gravity of my things and possessions. We drove up to south central Pennsylvania and set out walking on the Appalachian Trail.

The photo above is of our first camp. I took the photo on Saturday morning. Travis was preparing to boil water for our morning oatmeal.

Our packs were fairly light, which was part of the adventure. It turns out that a person doesn't really need that many things to live in the outdoors. Although colder weather means we have to carry more insulation.

We packed light and walked with the gusto that comes from carrying a light pack. Travis and I have been reading Ray Jardine's ultralight backpacking books: The Pacific Crest Trail Hiker's Handbook and Beyond Backpacking. Ray and his wife Jenny have done an awesome amount of ultralight adventuring. And Ray's backpacking books (which are sadly out of print right now) are helpful, logical, and well written.


This is Travis's alcohol-burning stove. The stove by itself only weighs 1.1 ounces.








We hiked north along the AT.

























We explored some ATV trails.















The ATV trails took us up to a ridge where found this pyramid shaped rock.












Later we climbed on top of this larger ridge which gave us some of the widest views of the entire hike.









The next day we woke up and enjoyed the warmth of the sun.














A small stream flowed by our camp. And the morning sunlight guided me in exploring the small plants that were down beside the stream.

















Eventually we walked back on the AT and headed south.
















Here we are back at Travis's car, getting ready to drive home.

Thoughts On Things

The other night I was on the phone talking with my friend Matt Brezina. We might have been talking in person except for the fact that Matt lives in California and I live in Maryland. It was a late night phone call, but the conversation was good. We had plenty of time to talk, which isn't always the case these days. After sharing some of the details of daily life, we moved on to a slightly deeper topic: the idea of owning things.

Matt had recently purchased a motorcycle, and although he was excited about his bike, he wasn't all that excited about all the things that he had to buy. His helmet, a spare helmet, gloves, a jacket, a parking pass, maintenance for the bike, etc. Matt then brought up a good point. How buying things often leads to the buying of more things. Things that go with things. Things that hold things. Things that sit on things. On and on and on, piles of things stretching on into infinity.

I told Matt that I had also been thinking a lot about things. This past summer, when I was living on the road, I had in my immediate possession very few things. All my things fit very nicely in the small bags that were strapped to my bike. I was living a lightweight lifestyle, and I was happy.

But when I came home and opened my front door, all that changed. The number of things in my immediate possession multiplied by a big number. Suddenly I was the proud owner of thousands of things. Hundreds of books, and CDs, and records. A closet full of clothes. Juggling equipment. Things left over from my childhood. I had tools in the basement, and lots of bike stuff, and four other bikes. I had four guitars, two banjos, two ukuleles, one mandolin, and several instrument cases. Many things. Lots of things. Hundreds and hundreds of pounds of things. There was a brief moment when I thought about not touching these things. Like maybe I could just keep on living with the stuff I had on my bike. But that idea was quickly dismissed as I reached for my old Fender steel string.

Later that night I revisited some of my things, and I found their presence to be pleasing and comforting. Even though I had a lot of things, I realized that I had many of them for a reason. Many of my things seemed to be more than things--they were tools that I used in my life. Tools for learning. Tools for creating. Tools for exercise and enjoyment.

I mentioned my after-the-bike-tour experience to Matt. Matt then asked me if I had read Paul Graham's essay on stuff. I said no. Matt said I should check it out. I said ok. I then brought up a conversation that I had with my brother Chris. Chris was talking about simplifying his life by getting rid of a lot of his things. But I asked Chris where he would draw the line. He'd surely have to keep some things. Which things? Chris wasn't sure. I wasn't sure either. I thought (only hypothetically) about what things I would get rid of. I knew that for me to answer that question, I would have to go through every one of my possessions and decide yes or no. Need or want. Keep or donate. This would be a huge task. It would probably take weeks. And would the result be worth the effort? I didn't know. Chris didn't know either. "You do have a lot of stuff, man," he said.

My thoughts on things always go back to the late John Lennon, who said, "Imagine no possessions, I wonder if you can." Wise words from a wise man. I think he was on to something. John knew what he was talking about. He was deep thinker. And even though he had thousands of possessions orbiting around him, he was still able to think simply and write good songs. He knew how to cut through the nonsense and get down to the things that really mattered.

Thinking about what Lennon said, I realized that when we talk about things we have to consider not only the physical aspect of the thing, but also the mental aspect. The idea of the thing. The memory of the thing. Even if I could get rid of most of my things, I would probably still carry their weight in my mind. The memory of the thing would be there, taunting me, pulling me back, speaking to me late at night, driving me to be the consumer that I once was. I don't think I am alone in saying: I would miss my things.

So what to do? Matt and I couldn't really come to a final conclusion. It seemed that there were too many grey areas.

Chris and I didn't find the answer either.

And so after I got off the phone with Matt I starting writing my thoughts down. I thought about reading Paul Graham's essay on stuff, but I forced myself not to. I didn't know where my own thoughts were going to take me, but I wanted to let them go in their own direction.

And now here I am writing at 2:00 in the morning. Marley is curled up in a ball, sleeping on the floor next to me. My notes are laid out on the desk in front of me. My computer is connected to the Internet. I am tempted to stop working. "Take a break," says a voice in my head. "You have time to check out a couple Billy Collins poems." But I can not stop writing. I refuse to add another thing to my life--even a poem that weighs virtually nothing--until I finish writing this thing that I have started.

The question still remains: What to do? I realize that this is a question we each must answer. But for my friend Matt and my brother Chris I will offer these final words.



Dear Chris and Matt,

The season of spring is coming up, and I am reminded of the goodness of a good spring cleaning. Every so often it seems like a good idea to clean house, to organize, to minimize, and to reassess. The process can be lengthy, but it just might be worth it. But if you believe house cleaning will lead to lightness of spirit, mind, and body: there are no guarantees. Without the right attitude, a person can give away everything and be left with nothing. And by the same token, a person can have everything and still have nothing.

In the end, people are more important than things. And your body/mind is the most important thing that you own, so nurture it and protect it. And speaking from experience, it is possible to have many possessions and not be tied to them. Possible but challenging.

I hope this helps.
Fondly,
Jeff

More Treasure That I Found This Past Summer

Some of you might remember this photograph. I took it during the bike tour, back in Missouri, right after I found this 1/2'' socket extension bar lying beside the road.

This past summer I was constantly accumulating stuff--tools, books, music, Christmas presents, postcards, brochures, maps, data, menus, t-shirts--and every so often I'd mail this stuff home. When I got home I had all these packages to open, which was kind of fun.

The following photographs will show you most of the other tools that I found this summer.

Travels With Marley

I go to the dog park quite often. Marley here needs his exercise. Most of the time I use my bicycle to get us there, that way I can get some exercise too.

I feel good from the exercise I get pulling Marley, our 45-pound Siberian Husky. But I also feel good knowing that my efforts help keep the air a little cleaner.

Here we are getting ready for the 5 mile commute.







The first time I tried to put him in the trailer he objected. But I gave him a treat and calmed him down, and we made it to the dog park. Now he is happy to get in the trailer because he knows that he's going to the dog park.



Here you can see the two leash set up that I use to keep him in the cart. He can move side to side, but he can't move his legs or body out of the trailer.







Marley just sits there and smells the air. I think he enjoys it.

Riding with Marley I get tons of attention. People in cars slow down and talk to me. The ladies out walking exclaim, "Ahhh, how cute." Kids really get a kick out of it. "Mom, mom, look at that dog!" they exclaim. When I'm stopped at a stoplight I like to watch the faces of the people driving by. People love seeing us, they really do. And Marley is a cool as can be. Just sitting there, staring at the world. He loves to be outside.


This time of the year I have to suit up for the dog park ride. I usually wear two or three pairs of pants, a couple layers under my neon windbreaker, and a hat under my helmet. When I get to the dog park I put on my down jacket. But Marley leaves the house wearing nothing but his collar. He's a pretty cool dog.

Our Path Across The Country

People need maps. Large spaces--great distances--can be conveyed simply and accurately. People have been asking me about my route from this past summer. I hope this helps.

This map, which comes from the Adventure Cycling Association, shows the route that my sister Janice and I followed while riding our bicycles across the United States.

Back in May, Janice and I started cycling at the western terminus of this route, which is in Astoria, Oregon. 101 days--and 4,000-and-some miles--later I reached Yorktown, Virginia, the eastern terminus of this route. Officially, this route is known as the Transamerica Trail. But the name is slightly misleading because there is basically no trail riding on the route. Most of the time, the Transamerica Trail seemed to follow the back roads, the old two-laners. There were small towns, big skies, endless forests, mountains, and prairies. Places where there were so few cars that for a time we forgot about them. Places where the air was still clean and good.

It is hard to sum up a journey like the one my sister and I had this past summer. Too many things happened. The memories weigh too much. A book might get the job done, but that will be for later. For now you can rest your eyes on this small corner of the Internet and know that there is still more to come.