Home

Well, I guess this will be my last post, as the trip is over. I've really enjoyed blogging. Who knew? Syd and I traveled over 8,000 miles together, in over 8 weeks. I got to go to Gruene Hall last night, and I couldn't think of a better welcome back to Texas. My hiking hat reverted back into my cowboy hat, and there was ice cold Shiner waiting for me after 14 hours on the road. Of course, I had ice cold Shiner in the back of the truck, but that's not as much fun as going to a honky tonk directly after crossing into Texas - home. This afternoon, I managed to unload Syd without a heat stroke, but barely. Phew, is it hot out there! It hits you like a wall every time you step outside. I realize that most of you have been dealing with this for the past two months, but I haven't. All I could think when I walked outside this morning was, "It's a rainforest! And this isn't as bad as Houston will be!". My kitties are trying to help me blog. I love my kitties! True, I had kitty friends along my trip, but it's just not the same.

Did I accomplish what I set out to accomplish? Yes. I never did make it to Joshua Tree, and barely made it to California at all, but I got to go sit in the desert, and that was my goal. I don't know exactly why I'm so drawn to the desert, except maybe that I spent half of my life drowning, and it still seems like a safe place to me, where I can breathe and where I can expand inward and outward forever, all at the same time. Except during my massage, I wore my "treasure necklace" the whole trip, the one with the beads that I got in Madrid, NM when I was with Doris a couple of years ago. That was such a healing trip. That summer, I had looked around and seen fragments of myself scattered everywhere. I became like those leftover beads, broken bits strung together into something beautiful. I carry on my body the scars of my despair, of my insanity and all those years of darkness. I carry the necklace as a reminder of my healing, a constant song of thanksgiving. Healing always continues, as I learn to live into forgiveness, and into joy. But this trip was perhaps more one of clearing, and now I get to work it out in my actual life, in the day in and day out of it all. This reassures me that the adventure has just begun.

Thank you for accompanying me on my journey. Peace and love to you all.

~ballew

"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end." ~Semisonic

My New Crack

Hiking. It's my new crack. Syd and I were cruising by Arches NP today, when I just had to turn in and do one last little hike to say "see ya later" to all those wonderful big red rocks. Not that I didn't have 13.5 hours of driving on my agenda today. Oh, well. Las Cruces will have to wait until tomorrow. I stopped in Albuquerque. Not that I don't have people to stay with here, but since it was a last-minute decision, I booked a room on Hotwire - got the Sheraton for really cheap, and it's pretty swanky. For instance, it has an indoor pool. I was excited that my hotel last night had a pool since I had to stop early for the storm, until I looked out the window of my room and saw it right there, outside, in the middle of the rain and wind and lightening. I might go home tomorrow, or I may stop in San Antonio. Who knows? I was on interstates very little today, which I much prefer, in spite of trying to make the best of it yesterday. I was in actual places today, instead of one stop after another with the same chain restaraunts and hotels. I got to have lunch at a little place in Moab called Love Muffin Cafe. Heehee - that was irresistable. Sitting at the counter munching away, I was thinking that I could have just made that veggie sandwich myself, but my cooler lacks artisan bread with sea salt baked in. Yum! Then, I stopped for coffee at Peace Tree Cafe in Monticello. Dinner was at a little restaraunt next to the Puerco River, which sounded gross but the building was cute. Yes, they even had pork enchiladas. Alright, I think it's time to watch the big flat screen tv for a few minutes and then turn in, so I can get up early and get a swim in before tomorrow's big drive. My shoulders are starting to ache, and swimming always does the trick, especially when swimming includes a hot tub. Peace out.

Salt Flats and Sleet

At last, I am headed home. Am I happy about this? Nope. I think I could be a professional vagrant, if only I could find someone to pay me for it every now and then and my kitties would get used to riding in the car. I occasionally contemplate how thick my skin needs to be to survive in this world. I always have to add a few inches for H-town. So, there is a big storm today, complete with wind that's strong enough to untwist Syd's antenna and throw salt, rain, and sleet onto my car. I wanted to make Colorado tonight, but now I'm in some hotel room in some little town on the interstate in Utah. Lots of hotel rooms - that's one pro of driving the interstate. Other pros include lots of restrooms and higher speed limits. In southern Utah a couple of weeks ago, I drove on a two lane highway that had big drop-offs on both sides, with no barricades. It was next to, or maybe part of, a road called Devil's Backbone. That not happening is another plus for the interstate highway system. Time for dinner - leftover curried stir-fry from camping - yum! Grateful for micro-fridges. Peace, yo.

Travelling to the south will bring you unexpected happiness. ~Fortune Cookie from Fernley, NV

Jenny's Turn

Yep, that's right, this is Jenny writing a guest blog for Me and Syd! Mostly, Lindsay needs time to plan her trip home because unfortunately for you all you faithful blog readers, tomorrow she starts the long road home. Even though she has access to a laptop, she's sitting in the coffee shop using an atlas! How quaint, right?

First thing's first, my beer and salsa arrived safely from Texas. Phew. I didn't have to publicly shame Lindsay. I arrived at Lake Tahoe last week for a few night stay in our time share. I was eager to get down to the beach because, well it's Lake Tahoe. And it was freaking cold! While on the beach people were laying out in swimsuits. One woman in her bikini took a swim! The water is 45 degrees. At the same time Lindsay had on multiple layers, wrapped in a blanket. The next day we hit part of the Tahoe Rim trail, though it's pretty is not as close to the lake as the name suggests. Lindsay hiked in her motorcycle jacket. Full on leather motorcycle jacket! I was in a t-shirt. Between my out of shapedness and the altitude I'm lucky I didn't pass out. This trip I've been eyeballing old people and wondering if they'd give me a hit off their oxygen tank.

After doing a fair amount of nothing at the time share in North Lake Tahoe, we headed out to Grover Hot Springs to camp. This was a lovely, albeit expensive camp ground. With a swimming pool and hot springs pool that we hit twice. It was a lower altitude and much warmer. Lindsay made a one match campfire! We avoided bear attacks, though had a few words with the ground squirrels. We won. Barely.

With campfire perfume still lingering, we headed to South Lake Tahoe for the last leg of our journey. We started this part of the adventure at the spa with massages. Now we're talking! We checked into our casino hotel, then off to a dinner cruise on Lake Tahoe. Amazing! Good views, good food, and great company!

Then, of course, along the way there were the typical Lindsay/Jenny activities: bowling, air hockey, pool, mini golf, air hockey, movies, cooking (though Lindsay did all the cooking-YUM!), and eating.

Keep reading! Over and out.

Love, Jwo

Quotidian

The mundane becomes routinized into our lives, laying out the scaffolding for time. We do laundry every Thursday morning at 6am, or the day's dishes each night before bed. We shower every morning and brush our teeth after each meal. We grocery shop on Saturday and make casseroles or soup on Sunday afternoon to feed us throughout the week. These habits form routines that provide structure, familiarity, and comfort. These routines flew out Syd's window like a plastic bag (David's modern day tumbleweed) when we got on the highway.

Saturday, I arrived in Tahoe to spend a week at a condo that my parents gave me through their time share. I have my own bathroom. Besides at my grandmother's old house and at the monastery, I haven't had my own bathroom since I left home, which seems like five and a half weeks ago, so it's weird. Also, none of the national parks where I've stayed have showers. I've stopped a couple of times at RV parks to purchase a shower (at $3 and $6; the one closest to Canyonlands NP was rumored to be $10). After I arrived here, I was scrubbing off red dirt, which I knew wasn't from where I had stayed the night before (Great Basin NP in NV), but where I had stayed the night before that (Bryce Canyon NP in UT).

I have had the assumption my entire life that dishes must be washed with soap and water each time they are used. All it took to dispel me of this notion was about 20-30 bees swarming around the dishwashing station at Guadalupe Mountains NP. They were even flying out of the faucet when the water was turned on. Now, I have embraced the idea of "clean enough."

I have barely been on an interstate highway since I left Odessa about a month ago. Sometimes, this has led to not being able to find a restroom at a needed moment. In NM, I actually had to drive about 10 miles out of my way to go into a state park to use the facilities. Why did I not just go on the side of the highway? Well, that's exactly what I did near a picnic area in southwest TX, but it was super windy that day in NM (of course), and there was no shoulder for miles and miles. Sometimes, "clean enough" can't happen, but you do what you can. Saturday, I drove in to the Reno area on the highway known as "The Loneliest Road in the World," although the highway I drove the day before was much lonelier. I've been so isolated, I've started viewing full clothing as optional, even when I'm outside (truly, I'm only one small step away from joining a pack of coyotes). I've been getting gas when I'm down to half a tank because you can't count on anything for many miles. I also try to start out each day with at least a couple of gallons of water. I've become extremely efficient at setting up and taking down camp, and I haven't really liked sleeping inside a condo in a bed for the last several nights. I don't like waking up inside, either. It's hard to figure out where I am at first and that makes me feel a little anxious. Even if you don't instantly know where you are when you wake up inside a tent, you at least know you are somewhere having fun.

I am enjoying having a full refrigerator and kitchen, though. I went nuts at Trader Joe's yesterday, especially with the green stuff. I can't wait for Jenny to get here Wednesday to help me eat it all. Since I've been writing, I have savored a bowl of Ranier cherries (I will only buy one or two pints a year - so delicious, so expensive). I may save some for her, but we'll see. Trader Joe's also makes the best veggie corn dogs - that was lunch - yum! Stir fry is in my near future. Y'all know I can talk about food forever, but I'll cut it short and just say that, by last Thursday, the thought of putting one more bite of peanut butter or hummous in my mouth was starting to make me sick. I found a Chinese restaraunt Saturday, in a town just east of Reno called Fernley, and ate some Kung Pao tofu to initiate my return to civilization.

Now that all of you are disgusted by my lack of hygeine, I would like to say one more word about driving. I hadn't seen a police car in several states when I came upon a handpainted sign on The Loneliest Road in the World that read, "Speed Trap Ahead." My gratitude goes out to this person (probably some nice anarchist who moved to a town in the middle of nowhere to get out from under the heavy hand of our civic and economic laws), as I was going 25mph when I spotted the sherriff.

Peace and happy showers and dishwashers and toilets and beds to all.

Magic Mushroom Land

Canyonlands is amazing. Lots of the rocks here look like mushrooms, and I have my very own giant mushroom where two junipers watch over my tent, standing at the foot and head, like the angels on the ark of the covenant. My mushroom also has a crevice, so it's like my own mini-cave, where I'm sitting in my camping chair enjoying an ice cold kombucha. Everything I've been opening has been exploded; I guess because of changes in altitude. The algae, or whatever that yucky stuff is at the bottom of the bottle, launched when I opened it, and sprayed all over - gross. In addition to drinking kombucha when coming off the trail, I woke up at 6am this morning to get an early start on the 11-mile trail I hiked. No worries - the aliens have promised to return the real Lindsay when alien Lindsay drives back through New Mexico. I'm glad I let the camp ranger talk me into it, as I had never hiked that far before. The rocks in this part of the park that don't look like mushrooms are called "needles." They are towering spires that occurred because limestone moved over salt, cracking the solid rock, then rain came, eroding them. They are magnificent - mostly red, but also lined with white and yellow. Part of the trail was called the Joint Trail because you walk through where a really big rock split. The sky was just a thin line seen straight up through the break in black rock. I got to on point that was probably the most silent place I had ever been. If I held my breath, I couldn't hear anything at all... never get that in the city. From there, I turned down a tunnel that displayed a whole metropolis of cairns - the small stacks of flat rocks that mark the trails here. It went on and on, with little rock towers everywhere, even in the tiniest crevices in the side of the rock. Everybody who passes through there probably contributes a rock or two. I loved the spontaneous, communal nature of it. During the morning, clouds covered the sky, and there was a constant cool breeze. There was a moment when a few rain drops hit my arms, and I became acutely in tune with all of my senses, and all of it was pleasing - the feeling and rhythm of walking, the breeze on my face, through my hair, and across my body; the grass brushing across my hand, the sound of the wind... I'm not so sure I'm made for city-life. I'm not so sure anybody is, but I can only speak for myself. A woman told me a couple of days ago that my presence had a "quiet reverence" to it. I guess that's what happens when you start listening. All of nature sings a song of praise, and that same song is embedded within each of us. The silence and the song are bound, one with the other. So, friends, one day you may not see me anymore. I may just move to the desert, and if you find me, you will find me chatting with the lizards, singing to the jackrabbits, and basking in the silence of which I do not tire. Peace, friends.

The Lord your God is with you. He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you. He will quiet you with his love. He will rejoice over you with singing. ~Zephaniah 3:17

Rockies

I realize that you are all just dying to know where I am now. I didn't make it to Canyonlands (national park just south of Moab, Utah) yesterday. I'm at a hostel in Durango. It's exquisitely clean, as the owner works here full-time, instead of putting a bunch of vagrants in charge (yes, I had chores every morning in Santa Fe). My dormmates were definitely more fun at my last hostel. I've thought about how my blogs have gotten more fru-fru the farther away from Houston I am, and the longer I am gone. That's true for everyone else, too. The Episcopal church I went to this morning even had its own fru-fru liturgy. Admittedly, I liked it, and it incorporated lots of stuff from Scripture that's usually glossed over in our patriarchy, like about God being our mother and how all of nature is in her womb. I came back to the hostel after church to eat some delicious vegan pot stickers from the local co-op, then headed out to explore the Colorado Trail, 487 miles of beauty all the way to Denver. My afternoon hike, which was less than 487 miles, was gorgeous. It looked just like Rocky Mountain national park, all green and blue with water so clear you can see way down into it. There were lots of mountain bikers to watch out for. The Iron Horse race was yesterday, between the bicyclists and the Durango-Silverton train. The bicyclists won. People here ask me if I mountain bike. I like my spinal cord intact, thank you very much. It's interesting how people try to connect with you when you are passing through with interests of their own culture. In response to local assumptions, I told the people here that I do not rock climb or mountain bike; I told the people at the monastery that I am not a nun; I told the people in Terlingua that I did not have any pot. Maybe I should ask them if they like to drive long distances across the United States, not knowing half the time where they're going to sleep that night. I am still planning on heading to Utah tomorrow. That will be less green, and more red. I really don't find green all that inspiring, no matter how scenic, so I am excited about returning to desert. I will be in Tahoe in less than a week to begin the vacation part of my trip with friends (yay!), so I will be getting in all the dusty red I can before then. Go in peace and love.

"Football is all about the blue chakra." ~overheard at hostel in Durango