The Journey Part 39

AREN’T YOU EVER SICK, OR IN A BAD MOOD?

Someone asked me that question the other day, in a private message on Facebook.

The ten cent answers are hardly ever, as in once in a blue moon, and yes.

Now for the buck-fifty answers.

I was a sickly child, so sickly I was almost held back a year in grade school.  If it was making the rounds, it being some childhood disease, I caught it.

That all ended about the time I went to college. Since then, and we are talking decades, I rarely, and I’m serious when I say this, rarely get sick.  The flu?  I can’t remember the last time. A bad cold? Nope! You name it and most likely I’ve never experienced it, and you better believe I count my blessings for my good health . . . and really, structurally, my body has held up fine as well. I had a back operation in 1989 for a bulging disc, and a hip replacement coming on two years ago. Both operations were successful, and I have no residual pain from either.

I see people my age barely able to walk, limping around, using canes, using walkers, in wheelchairs, and I look to the stars and marvel at the randomness of my good health. I do not eat heathy foods. Never have. I played sports, hard, for years; climbed mountains; hiked thousands of miles in the Cascades . . . and not even a sprained ankle or ligament tear or whatever else people suffer. I have had physical jobs for many years, and never suffered a work-related injury or accident.

So no, I hardly ever get sick. Nothing to write about there and besides, on social media, I really don’t want to tell people how fantastic my health is, out of respect for those less-fortunate, and I sure don’t want to tell anyone I’m tired or pulled a muscle, and oh, the excruciating pain of it all, when I know  damned well there are people out there who have it considerably worse.  It would be incredibly insensitive of me to announce the normal aches and pains of being 74 on social media, when there are people going through chemo, ya know what I mean?

As for the bad mood, I’m really not one to wallow in the darkness, not while sober.  And since we left our home four months ago, I truly can tell you that no, I have not been in a bad mood since February 2^nd.  Oh, I’ll have moments where something annoys me, or someone annoys me, but they go away quickly.  My life is just too good to dwell on minor disturbances.  My serenity is taking root and is firmly established, thank you very much.

Having said all that, there are a few things which will quickly upset my equilibrium.  Rudeness annoys me to no end, and I don’t tolerate it. I will call someone out who is rude to me. I don’t deserve it, I don’t condone it, and I will not allow it.

Loud noise bothers me. It doesn’t frighten me, but I am much happier away from it.  Revving engines, motorcycles, lawnmowers, metal clanging, horns, trash can lids closing, it all is like fingernails on a chalkboard. Same with Maggie.

Meaningless conversations push my patience button immediately. I would rather not talk to people who are only interested in the mundane. Give me depth or leave me be.  And crowds? Good God Almighty, keep me away from crowds. I immediately shut down and cease to function when faced with more than five people.

Other than that, I am functioning quite nicely, thank you very much, and I suspect I will continue to do so. Bad moods are simply a waste of energy for this old man.

THE TRAIL CHANGES YOU

We heard that mantra before Bev ever started. Watch enough PCT videos and you will hear it over and over again . . . but . . . it’s a rather nebulous statement, isn’t it? How does the trail change you? What does that change look like?  Details, please!

I don’t know about everyone. I do know it has changed Bev. I do know it has changed me.  And I do know it has changed quite a few thru hikers I have spoken to in the last four months. Each person will answer the question a bit differently, but they almost all agree that change has taken place.

I have talked about the changes in me throughout this journal.  I found I love living on the road. I found I love helping others. I found a person is never too old to make changes to one’s lifestyle. I found I really don’t need the trappings of suburbia. I found I love being a part of a community like the hiking group of the PCT. I have found that, at a time I was beginning to seriously question my physical ability to do the mundane, daily chores, I am thriving in this lifestyle. I discovered a new zest for life, that I no longer think I will go quietly into the night and fade away, but instead will go out in a thunderous display of fireworks, living the kind of life which screams “WONDER” instead of just dreaming about missed opportunities.

I don’t know how Bev would answer this question. I do know that Bev is never at a loss for things to do. Long before we thought about the title As We Wonder for this blog, she was teaching me to enjoy the wonder of it all.  Bev finds life to just be one adventure after another, and for her teaching me that appreciation, I will always be grateful.

ANOTHER ADVENTURE AWAITS

This is Tuesday, June 6, 2023, the weather is heating up in Olympia, and I am leaving for the Oregon coast in two days . . . with Maggie to keep me company. Bev is heading to Eastern Washington, with Toby, to see a grandson she misses greatly.

My first stop will be near Westport, Washington, where I will meet up with a former high school acquaintance, Kerry Webster.  Haven’t seen Kerry in what, fifty-five years? I liked him then; not a close friend, but someone I thought was an okay guy in high school. It will be interesting in a curiosity sort of way.  He’s actually working a job I wouldn’t mind working on a short-term basis. He’s a park ranger temporary, works the entrance booth in a state park, not a bad gig, keeps him busy, he seems to like it from what I can surmise on Facebook.

After that I am going to meet up with a woman, a Facebook “friend,” who has been doing this nomad thing for four years now.  It will be nice to finally meet Michelle, pick her brain about the nomad lifestyle, and spend a day or two in Long Beach, also on the Washington coast.

Then I will drop down into Oregon, take my sweet time, park a few days at a time, enjoy the cooler weather, meet up with at least two people I know on Facebook, and also, in Gleneden Beach, another high school “friend.” Craig was the star pitcher on our city championship team, got drafted by the Houston team, had arm problems, and the last I heard anything about him was 1968 until he resurfaced on Facebook. He has what seems to be a fairly large family, a wife he’s been wed to for quite a few years, living his best life on the beach. I have no idea what we will talk about, again fifty-five years removed from actually seeing each other, but I always liked him and I’m sure we will find something to chat about.

Bev will monitor the snow and trail conditions, and at some point in time she will let me know she’s ready to get back on the trail, at which time I’ll head back to Olympia to pick her up.

This will be the first extended trip alone in Puddle Walker.  I’m curious how it will go. I really want to concentrate on talking to people in small towns along the way. I want to concentrate on taking photos, making videos, and flying the drone. I want to see holy cow sites and feel my heart in my throat on a regular basis.  And I really want to fine-tune this road-living thing, get it down to a comfortable system, learn how to do it without spending a boatload of cash. This will be my practice run before the winter of 2023/2024 arrives.

I’m also playing with the idea of trading Puddle Walker in on a van. The gas mileage is going to be an issue; of that I have no doubt, and vans are just more practical for getting around to more places. The only drawback is you can’t stand up in a cargo van, but if that’s the only issue, I can make it work.

Anyway, this Oregon trip will help me to make that decision.

The journey continues in two days.