During the early part of last winter, the worst part, I imagined coming south to the far west desert, on my bike the whole way. I imagined just how hard it would be, mentally as well as on my body. I started imagining how. How I would do it. And I thought of the hot spring throughout this part of the world. I started researching and found one in particular that stood out to me. One that required a long trek into the depths of big bend national park, including some off road riding and capped with a hike. But before any of that, in the junction between the state and national park is a deserted town - a ghost town - that once thrived with mercury miners. The scent of arsenic still lingers. Terlingua is now home to the souls that I relate to - the left and leaving. Those that admittedly, and for some, righteously, do not fit. Or just need to hide, indefinitely. I was greeted well there. Young and old pointed to places that would take me in. But the park and its hot spring called me. I barrelled down into the park entrance where a matter-of-fact woman told me after I'd paid my 20 bucks that my campsite would be on the left, two hours ahead! Seriously. The most beautiful two hours. Vista after vista, bigger and higher and more stunning. Then a rough sign flashed. Hot springs. I locked up and hit the turn. An amazing set of switchbacks got me to the trail head. I left my riding boots on and about ran the half mile hike to the opening. There it was. Full of smiling faces and more perfect than I could have imagined. I jumped behind a bush, changed fast and slid into the hot sulphuric aroma of the naturally heated pool. The heat from the water like a morphine shot to my muscles and bones. After some time, reflecting on the realization that I'd made it, that after 4000km of riding, this was my destination, I was struck with an incredible longing to be with my sons. And I was full of warmth at the thought that the next part of my trip would bring me closer to them, day by day, mile by mile. Then I stood up, jumped off the ledge into the rio grande river and swam to mexico. I met a man from brighton england midway, and he joined me and we laughed out loud.
the future is unwritten
it was during the beginning of the push back
from south by south west to north by north east that i ran into this guy
the southeastern edge of new mexico, across the panhandle of texas and through southern oklahoma is flat and open
a blank page for thinkin'
long haul dreaming
a year earlier
plans fell through
the lure of long hauling
and the desert
remained
french bucket
eating every two hours
piece of fruit, some protein, water, caffeine
never hungry,
never full
hot spring bizzaro
two boys
about nine and ten
chased me down in this town
gave me some lip and
challenged for pink slips
from another era
mine
night freight
Today I woke slow from some bad dreams about heartbreak and immorality - both my own - and the nostalgic call of a freight train's horn and rumble. It all left me in the quiet darkness of a motel room, 3700 km from my children, thinking of Philip and the farm. And loneliness sunk in fast. I made a perfect camp stove coffee and thought about the day. Wondered if I'd run into people. Then I stopped thinking about that. I started packing, then told myself to slow down, I mean out loud. Got my shades and headed to my bike, bb, in search of breakfast. I did run into people, all friendly, all someone's friend. I thought of my friends. Sent some pictures to a couple old ones from back home and told them that I looked forward to seeing them soon again. I always wonder if the can feel my loneliness. Yes, most likely. But we all operate above the surface. We're fucked that way, until we come apart and then no one really knows what to do. So we hold it together. I had what was recommended as the best breakfast in town, and was told that I wouldn't be disappointed. I kind of was, but kept it to myself. Big tip to feign as though she was right. Then back on my bike and headed to find provisions. I always worry that I won't have enough food when I am going into the bush (desert here) yet I never buy enough, and so often worry about running out and stress about rationing. It was the same way with booze. Strange. Something deeper in there, but I am too tired for analysis. I rode out of town, opting for the road that would 'require high clearance 4 wheel drive'. I knew I was testing my limits, but that's kind of why I am here. The road, pinto canyon, turned out to be perfect. Hardest off road riding I have eve done, and I dumped the bike once. But it gave me the sense of what is possible with bb, and left me feeling proud that I did it. Caught some air once or twice, and started to learn how to power through turns sliding the rear. Such a great feeling. The actual area and the ride was the most beautiful place I have ever seen. Too much to describe. Just absolutely stunning ancient and rugged isolation. Mountains ranges surrounding. I finally arrive, on the border with Mexico, in the chihuahua desert, to the chinati hot springs. Greeted by a friendly and straightforward woman who showed me to my lodging, and pointed to the cold and hot tubs. I asked about trails. She gave me directions. I ran in the hot hot hot desert heat up a hill ridge through rattlesnake country. I was told later that there been a mountain lion hanging around. I sensed her. It was kind of frightening on the trails as there was no shade whatsoever, and the trails crisscrossed making it easy to lose my bearings. I didn't. I am back. I soaked my sore bones and muscles in the hot tub. Met a couple from Austin on an anniversary. She arranges flowers and he is a chef. They had good tattoos. And blue stripes in all the Texas red. Then I climbed atop a small butte where a freezing cold Springwater pool waited for me to submerge and kickstart my vascular system. I did. It did. Now I am lounging, listening to the breeze and the birds and thinking about my brother and my family - the one I grew up in, and the one I am growing. And finding myself thinking about the notion of radical acceptance - that everything in my past brought me right here, and it's all right. I don't have to figure any shit out. I have to get home safely to my boys and regale then with stories. And smother them with my love.
sw texas roads to marfa
the roads through texas took me past
the branch davidians and the chainsaw massacre
high speed roll overs and every kind of wild carcass
then it took me back into the land of
basins and mesas like
a watercolour dream
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