Laughing, Soaring

4/16/10-4/26/10

Tucson, AZ- Lordsburg, NM

Laughing, Soaring

4/16

Waking up to the sunrise on a rooftop with a dear friend, I feel I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be in life, doing the things that make life worth living. Every day brings new people to love and fresh opportunities to choose the exciting over the mundane. (Like camping on a roof!)

Tucson has been for me a haven of love and rest, but temporary as any other, and once again goodbyes had to be said. It's harder to do in some places, which is the case here. After a sweet little breakfast, courtesy of Sasha, of dumpstered vegetables salad and espresso, I prepared for the open road again.

Colin and I reunited after our "weekend" with our respective friends and some solitude, and met up with Mina, who we met on our way into town.

She decided to join our adventure this morning, after we convinced her a skateboard would be utterly useless in the desert. She was quite the trooper, though her walking feet were new.

Unfortunately, this is the only photo we were able to get of Mina. We parted ways with her, seemingly prematurely, but with the hope that she would rejoin in a day or two. Also unfortunately, she never did return. This walking across America thing just isn't for everybody, I suppose. But I was glad she gave it a go!

4/17

We spent a good part of the day waiting for a bearable walking climate. In the sparse shade we found, I used my pocket knife to skin and chop up a nopal and was thrust back to my upbringing, trying to maneuver the slimy bits as they collected every bit of sand even in the air, it seemed. You may say the desert is dead, but I will tell you it is alive and FULL of prickles.

Photo courtesy of Tim and Annette

Source: http://www.sxc.hu/photo/5395

We probably did about 15 miles before we let ourselves think of stopping. Just as I began to consider how poorly planned my rations were, a road fairy happened along, bearing the delights of cheese pizza and a camping recommendation; upon following her advice, we descended into a lush, green dream of a spot, and at once I felt I could be content staying here forever. In a deep creek wash under the greenest trees I've seen since leaving the coast, the evening air was warm and felt like home.

4/18

Rocks. Cactus. Hot.

The road to Benson is never-ending. Upon leaving Tucson, I'd somehow gotten the idea that we had only 20 some miles to go before getting to it. As it turned out, after a couple full days of walking and plenty of ambiguous estimates from locals, to b more like 44 miles. 44 miles on the interstate, mind you, so this really meant more like 46 or 47. But who knows. Not 20.

But since it's Sunday, we got to walk on a new road that's under construction, and it seemed it was created just so we could walk in comfort--not paved, but smooth. We even found a nice reservoir of some sort to jump into. Oh yes, and we met Nathan, who gave us water and mac and cheese just as I thought I might die of starvation. Not really of course, but as anybody who's had the pleasure of being around a hungry Shay will tell you... I get really grumpy.

4/19

Well, we got to Benson.

When we were about a mile away, it seemed too good to be true, since each day we thought we were within a few miles, new estimates revealed the same numbers as the days before. Benson always seemed to be about 12 miles away, no matter how much time had passed between asking people.

Now was the perfect time for the road to end, the shrubbery to densify, and the hills to become almost unmanageable in the midst.

Where in the world was the exit?

An hour later...

The safeway dumpster redeemed a morning full of brambles, rocks, and barbed wire fences. Our first order of business earned us half a tiramisu cake, some eclairs, good seed bread, and some nasty pub cheese. We were given the blessing of some particularly generous and eccentric ladies, and they also gave us donuts!

Benson was just as tricky to leave as it was to get into. The wind was high as soon as we set out to walk, and it wasn't immediately clear where, or whether at all, there'd be a back-road, or even walkable terrain. By noon it seemed we'd been at it all day without getting anywhere. I suppose one always knows there will be days like this, and it's just as much a part of the experience as the good days.

4/20

Today was a LOT of hills. We've climbed a couple thousand feet in a day or two. We stopped in Dragoon for a break, but I decided I couldn't walk another mile. Plus, the rock formations were spectacular.

4/21

When you're having a bad day, any object will defy the laws of physics just to annoy you.

UNIVERSE, STOP FUCKING WITH ME!!

It just turned into one of those days...something in the air...

Walking out of Willcox, irritated, I passed a livestock lot, and headed over, hoping a communion with my fellow beasts would replenish my good spirits. But who could have known the anguish that would soon fill me, as I looked into their frightened eyes. Gentle, inquisitive creatures, they would have been my friends if only humans had shown them a kinder way of interacting. As things were, they could only stare, wide-eyed, wondering if I would harm them. Some bore multiple brandings, showcasing the merciless lack of skill on the behalf of somebody who's never been branded. They looked sick. What I would give to see them roaming free, eating grass and nuzzling their babies. I cried so hard as I imagined their suffering, wishing I could set them free, or at least communicate with them my love and sorrow. Oh dear cows. I cried and cried and cried...

I decided, being such an uncontrollable emotional mess, that I needed a day to walk alone. So I told Colin I would find him in Bowie, and watched him walk off until he was a small dot. I contemplated my decision, hoping I'd be able to handle the challenges on my own, and knowing that I'd have to.

I sat, quietly, and still, until I felt ready.

I felt so small in the universe, but unafraid.

The wind was high, unrelenting. I felt at home on the hillside, laughing, soaring. Antelope ran from me and in this moment they were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

I began to tire of the continual climb and drop of the terrain; My feet had started hurting hours ago. It began to rain, lightly at first, then steadily harder until I thought it would be wise to to take cover. For the first time in 10 miles there was not a tunnel in sight. It began to hail. FUCK. hail hurts. I found one fortress of a tunnel, finally, but by the time I could make my way into it I was soaked.

Then the rain stopped.

Go figure. Settling in now would mean one hell of a morning to walk, but I didn't want to chance it.

The tunnel was immensely windy, so I took post in a deep and narrow channel covered by a small tree. It was very rocky so I slept on my backpack. It rained steadily, but my bag seemed to hold up alright.

UNTIL...

I got flooded in, mud everywhere and water seeping into the zipper. I woke up essentially in a creek, and getting out was disastrously uncomfortable. I dragged my things down a sharp incline, falling into mud more than once, to try the tunnel again. It was monstrously dark, and I had to leave my flashlight on to help the swallows relocated their nests once I scared them out. The poor things flew outside and I could imagine their misery, so I stayed up, shining a beacon lamp for about 30 minutes until they returned to their nests, safe and warm. The night passed painfully slowly. it seemed cold water permeated my very bones, and maybe my soul as I contemplated my smallness, and my aloneness. How very much I wished for warmth or company, just one would have sufficed.

This was one of the loneliest moments of my life.

4/22

Today is, so far, a much better day. The swallows were alive and well, singing their praises to the sun, though it wasn't even up yet. It was probably about 5 when I woke, and 6 when I got up, though it was hard to discern the time as the sky was gray all over. I had my work cut out for me, with 13 miles to make before noon. I made about 6 miles when it appeared that my back-road was ending, and just then a border patrol vehicle approached. 2 officers emerged, wondering--in a friendly enough manner--what, exactly i was doing. Ironically enough Colin and I were joking the other day about being stopped by border patrol and having to present I.D., being brown and all. They gave me some good advice, and were quite surprised at my camping out despite all the human trafficking going on. We've seen the encampments of border hoppers everywhere, and my only commentary is it's sad to see how much it devastates the landscape.

Anyhow...

The moment I walked into Bowie, Colin came running toward me; We were happy to see each other, and I was glad to be done with my ordeal, having passed the test.

I walked to the truck stop at the end of town, in search of coffee and maybe conversation. Some nice gentleman stopped to talk to me, and bought me coffee. Walking back to meet Colin, I encountered the same gales and rain as before, and my hands were frozen painfully shut. I knew I'd never dry off if I slept outside, and after last night I couldn't imagine sleeping in that again. On the verge of mental breakdown, I met an angel named Rachel, a local who spends her time writing to prisoners and tending to her many pets. She welcomed us in with open arms, knowing herself what it's like to sleep outside in the cold. Even though she was already housing an extra person, she found us space in her laundry room. Her home has all the feel of a small town shanty, little and low-ceilinged, well loved and lived-in.

I took the nicest, hottest shower I've ever taken. Oh my, there is nothing better in all the world. We got all our laundry done too, which, between the two of us isn't even a full small load. I was immeasurably grateful not to be sleeping outside.

4/23

Again the day began gray, and I was uninspired to venture out too early. Rachel and I spent the morning in, sipping coffee and enjoying a small breakfast of oatmeal. By 7 I was anxious to get out, but my motivation didn't surmount my aversion to cold until just before 8. I got some batteries at the haphazardly outfitted Bowie Market. Bowie's streets, few and narrow, invited me to capture the essence of small town America. The clouds above cast a dusky, storm-threatening aura over the scene, as though the world might very well end today.

Ragamuffin dogs tentatively followed behind, wary of a newcomer with a shiny device, curiously stopping to view through the lends the many views of each object encountered. At the edge of town, I found the community center; As I walked in I was greeted by Sharon, a real community savior, who began this project in an effort to establish a safe resource for the citizens of Bowie. With a smile, she approached me, speaking words that are magic to any soul in need: "What can I do to help?"

That said, I made myself a PB&J, used the computer, and sat in the warmth for a bit.

4/26

Since leaving Bowie may camera has again died and I have again slacked on writing in the journal. The only big event was crossing into New Mexico, but even this wasn't all that exciting since there was no water there. Stopping for a moment to realize the accomplishment, I realized I was going to miss Arizona and the flag that I've come to love seeing everywhere. New Mexico, after looking more closely at my maps, is turning out to be possibly a more dire prospect than Texas itself, due to the extent that things are spread out. But...

Ya! trompin' state lines like it ain't no thang!

This morning Colin met up with the Continental Divide hikers at the border. It was hard to say goodbye after a month, 500 miles, and the entire state of Arizona had passed between us. being the person i woke up with, spent my entire day with every day, and said goodnight to, Colin became, in the truest sense of the word, my companion. Hugging in the park, I felt such an appreciation for the connection we'd made, which I'm sure will last a long time. tears welled up in my eyes as the moment flew by, though I wished I could prolong its ending. Oh, Colin, dear friend, I will think of you often.

Thus starts a new chapter in my journey. With only a couple of dollars remaining, I now brace a drop into a tumultuous part of the country, hoping that my wits and charm will get me through Texas. But I'm getting ahead of myself... New Mexico first.

Once again, until next time..... There are more photos here: http://picasaweb.google.com/FakePlasticShay The blog, which is just a running accumulation of these emails and journalings, is here: http://fakeplasticshay.blogspot.com/ _____________________________________________________________________________________ I am not traveling for profit. I seek to live as minimally as possible while traveling, and in life in general. However, any help along the way is appreciated, as food and shelter are of the utmost uncertainty on this trip. if you would like to make a small contribution for food you may do so by clicking here: https://cms.paypal.com/us/cgi-bin/?cmd=_render-content&content_ID=marketing_us/send_money click the "personal" tab, send it to Fakeplasticshay@gmail.com, specify your own amount as a gift, and help me get one day and one city further! As always, anything helps and is so very much appreciated! ___________________________________________________________________________ So! Onward! I am an adventure traveler. I am not a tourist seeking a distraction from my discomforts and worries. I am a lover of life seeking to submerge myself in the world outside myself. The nature and quality of my experience are based on some questions: -What do I want from the road? -Why will I travel? I want to see amazing things I want to meet amazing people I want to do a lot of walking I want freedom I want stories I want to see and try new things And I want all of these things at the expense of taking risks and encountering uncertainty.

Love, Shay