Bearded Gang

It’s 3pm on a mild Sunday afternoon, I’m sitting on a low ridge overlooking a large lake, I’d say rests about a mile away if you could fly to it. I’m perched in my truck bed camper, awning windows at half mast, tailgate wide open while I continuously shoo away a wild chicken from trying to make my truck its coop. A small handful of tortilla chips had made the fowl a friend forever.

But

She’s a little overbearing. She pecks my feet for attention and follows me around like I have a key to a corn silo. I have a makeshift water bowl on the outskirts of my camping area so she can peck her way to hydration. Not sure what she’s doing for a water source the nearest reservoir would be the aforementioned lake one mile or so (bird’s flight) from my tailgate. Unfortunately for this fowl there is no flight available for H2O. I suppose she could flutter for a bit but the wilderness is quite thick up here. I’ve become attached to this little chicken unfortunately my home in downtown Greenville isn’t chicken friendly and I’m surrounded by cats. How this little unfried bird has managed to make it all on its own up here I’m unsure. Did someone do a drop and run or maybe it wandered up from one of the farms down the mountain. That would be quite a trek. The nearest domestic hood is 2 miles away. She’s not shy by any means and I’m certain I’m not the first to give her a handout. I know you aren’t supposed to feed the wildlife but this one is a tad more domesticated than most. It’s only a matter of time before it becomes a snack or a meal for one of the larger animals that hang up here. I’ve seen owls up here big enough to pick up a schnauzer. Maybe it’s a birds of a feather thing up here. I can’t be sure.

I’m primed for two days of solitude and quiet.

I brought a 3 gallon water jug I use for ware washing, bathing and warmed up about a third for a shower. I take the hot water and mix it with the remaining two gallons of cold and place a rechargeable shower hose in it for rinsing off my morning adventures. I did a slow but steady hike up the gravel road nearby and then a 20 minute workout with my old TRX ropes. The ropes are a handy tool for an easy workout away from the gym. I hang them down from my roof rack and do my thing. Made an easy meal of steak and eggs along with a cantaloupe I took from work. I snacked on a ripe peach and a tin of smoked mussels with some cocktail sauce I had also made at work. I do most of my meal prep pre camp. Owning a kitchen makes meal planning easier than trying to create from scratch in the wilderness with an extroverted chicken who has become a temporary roommate. I felt terrible eating my momofuku noodles with rotisserie chicken right in front of the chicken last night. She seemed unbothered.

I arrived at my destination around 6:30 Saturday night. Saturdays the mountain is usually littered with occupants but a light drizzle all day must’ve scared most people away. I never got a drop. It was one of those days that you could hear it, smell it, see it but not feel it. The clouds let me be. I popped a squat at the first clearing I found and it was a good one. This one comes with a vibe of nostalgia. I started coming up here in my last Tacoma back in 2019. I wasn’t trying to explore much in those days if I found a good spot it was good enough for me and this one being closer to the road I come in on before climbing the mountain made it an easy choice. I’ve probably stayed in this spot over two dozen times. I used to sit next to my cooler and drink vodka on ice as the sunset. Pass out in my little camper and go hiking further up the mountain the next day. I leave the cooler at home now and bring a little fridge for food and water and one beer. No vodka anymore I gave the bottle and hangovers up. Itll be 4.5 years tomorrow now that I think about it.

No blackouts, no shots no regrets.

Took a nap on top of my camper while I tried to get a some sun on my shoulders. According to John Denver it brings happiness.

And he would be correct.

The chicken would’ve joined me if it were able I have no doubt. My perch was more perch than she could reach.

I’m in my element of coherence. I love the deliberation involved with camping up here.

The process of boiling water for my coffee and bathing while keeping inventory on my water supply.

Portioning out my food supply for my 5 to 6 meals

Setting up my remote kitchen

Searching for dry deadfall for my evening and morning fires

Building and maintaining said fires it got a little chilly up here last night with the afternoon rain and light wind

You don’t take anything for granted up here. Phone signal is touch and go if you’re even “lucky” enough to have one. No bathrooms so just use your imagination. Air conditioning? Cmon now. I’ve got two little ecoflow batteries to charge my fridge and everything else. If the juice runs out before I leave then oh well. I’ll get solar one day it’s not that important to me at the moment.

Propane is my cooking method unless I choose to cook over the fire. I do enjoy a slow cooking skillet over coals. No need for it with just me most of the time so I don’t take it. Food tastes better up here. The deliberate process of cooking outdoors with no facilities, no sinks, no dishwasher, oven or microwave. You cook your meals and eat in silence. No tv on in the background, no phone scrolling. You sit and you eat before whatever forages around you eats it first. An unattended snack can disappear quick or be taken over by hostile insects. You can’t put dishes in the sink, can’t leave leftovers or trash out for later.

Eat

Clean

Rest

As intended

Bed time? No final tv shows to watch I stay up until my fire has burned itself out. It’s like hearing the star spangled banner on the old tube when the shows sounded off. I recall it always played right after Saturday Night Live in the 70s. It was the only time I was allowed to stay up late. I don’t stay up late out here. 9pm I’m in my truck. 30 minutes of soft music in my ears and I’m in bed. I like my coffee with the sunrise and sometimes I have to drive to find it.

I like the fire coals slightly warm for the next day. Some dried twigs and brush and you won’t even need a match for your morning fire the next day. Sometimes. Rain may decide to choose to drown it out.

Speaking of rain, you’re a slave to the elements out here. I can sit under my awning if it’s a small rain shower but the wind does its own thing up here. Mountain ranges go by their own weather system. The weatherman can predict all he wants but up here the weather is decided by the mountains. Somedays you just ride it out in your truck bed, other times you crawl in your driver’s seat in the middle of the night and hope your car’s faraday cage keeps you from becoming electrocuted by the lightning storms. I’ve had fog so thick up here in the mornings that I’ll just pull over on the ridge until it rises so I don’t fall off.

Sounds terrible, maybe? Makes me feel alive. Charcuterie is mundane to the max. I always come back home a pound lighter and a story heavier.

This is how we are meant to live. Period. Once this hits you you’ll never want to go back to domestication. I love to wake up pop open truck tailgate to see what the day holds in store for me. I may wake up to the sun rising at my feet or a small creek running through my camp from the rain. I live for it all

I’ve made a friend out of a chicken today.

I’m making walking tacos for dinner (with beef) and taking a stroll down a game trail in front of my campsite.

I spent my last night, actually the entire day around my site. The early morning hike would be my last adventure as I found lounging in the back of my truck with all the things wide open a sensible shade. Mosquitoes are stealthier up here but they weren’t as bad. Maybe my little chick friend was pecking on them for lunch? I’ve mentioned before I do two types of camping. One where I sort of nomad it for the trip, hike, bike, paddle or explore. Other times I come up to unplug and sort of hang at camp. This one I took to the extreme. I turned my truck off at 6:15 Saturday evening and didn’t open the front of my truck back up until 5:30am Monday morning. With the exception of a 30 minute walk Sunday morning to loosen my legs after sleeping I stayed at camp.

I read

Meditated

Talked to my chicken.

I alternated between my chair under my awning and my camper “sofa”

And hung out with the chicken

You get the relationship between Tom Hanks and Wilson the volley ball in Cast Away. I camped for about 48 hours and I got rather attached to the fowl. It was attached to me too. It would peck me with its beak periodically to see if I was edible. The only difference with Wilson was a volley ball isn’t edible. That chicken would’ve been lunch first day stranded on an island but I still get it. By the second day I was having adult conversations with a flightless bird. Chickens eat anything. You want a body to disappear to bones throw it in the coop. Want the bones gone? Give em to the pigs. I may have to buy a farm..

Around 7:30pm the chicken wanders off without a word. Pops back in for coffee the next morning and stays the entire day. I didn’t see one creepy crawler all day. Chicken was on point. If the chicken stopped and stared out into the high grass I did too. I had a guard chicken. Nothing can stop me. When I tried to nap I could pinpoint my chicken’s latitude and longitude by its constant tuk-tuk puttering around my campsite.

“Friend sleep! I guard” – chicken

“Later he feeds me potatoes!” – same chicken

Yeah I got a little attached. I left camp to seek a sunrise, when I drove back I stopped at my camp to make sure I tidied up and called for my friend but she didn’t pop out. I left it some water and a salt and vinegar chip and headed home.

I came home, unpacked and finished my weekend of relaxation on my sofa. When I went to bed the last words I said to my wife was

“I miss the chicken”

she patted me on the head with a “bless your heart” and I went to sleep.

Twas a good time.

Cheers to chickens

I’ve got Pink Floyd resonating in my headphones. I went 54 years without much appreciation for Pink Floyd. I’d always acknowledged they were an amazing band, unique and talented. I never gravitated towards them. It could be my brother played them endlessly when we shared a bedroom I’m not sure. You won’t find a single album of theirs in my deli but you will soon. The last year or so I’ve become a fan, a big fan. Not sure what triggered it I think it may have to do with my lifestyle change. I rarely listen to hard music anymore.

I like soothing

Mild

Laidback

Slower beats

Music reflects your mood and vice versa. Floyd has been my mood. I’m not sure there have been any other musicians that have reentered my life in such a way. I think it’s a reflection of direction. If you observe your musical preferences as they change or evolve it’s a map of where your mood and mind are and where they may be heading. It’s not that deep y’all I’m referring to daily or weekend moods. Pink Floyd was iconic well before I threw my opinion out there I’m just catching up to them. I’ve gone through seasons of deleting genres and bands on my phone because I’ve just worn them out overtime.

Avetts- all gone

Isbell is taking a long break

Johnny Cash, can’t listen to him right now.

Doesn’t mean I don’t love their music it just doesn’t fit me at this time. It’ll come back. I wear a hoodie everyday but right now it doesn’t work for me. Wrong season.

De La Soul is in my top 10 currently

Johnny Blue Sky ain’t going anywhere.

Marshall Tucker Band has been on replay I haven’t listened to them in decades

Tears for Fears, I just downloaded their entire catalog, one of the most underrated bands of the 80s

Florence and the machine.

These are the bands where I don’t change the song if it comes on right now. I’ve listened to the Wall half dozen times this week. I’ll be purchasing the album soon. Barry, my one employee, will be pleased. He’s a big Floyd fan. He looks like one. Not sure why I just said that.

My new morning practice recently is fixing my handwriting. I’ve been spending about 20 minutes a morning slowly and deliberately leveling out my writing. I’ve never had good handwriting but once upon a time it had been legible. Years of writing shorthand food orders on a notepad have wrecked my handwriting. My hands are calloused and my wrists are stiff from knife work. I want to hold a pen or marker like a blade. When I write I can read it but no one else can. I write before I think so I oftentimes combine words when I’m in a hurry and well I’m always in a hurry in my world. Example: Sometimes when taking an order and someone asks for a Reuben and an Italian I’ll wrote out Reubian and Italen or Reubentalian. I used to win spelling bees in middle school.

I’m not practicing writing to win a calligraphy contest, I’m doing it to slow my pace and thinking down. If I can slow down my writing I can slow down my thinking. Overthinking will be subdued. My letter fonts don’t match. I blend in upper case and lower, I half write in cursive, my words aren’t even I can’t place them in a straight line.

Writing should be fluid. I’m seeking fluidity with my writing and thoughts. If there’s any craft that’s directly connected to your mind and hands it’s handwriting. I’ve been writing random words and letters slowly, methodically. It’s hard for me. When I’m writing a sentence it starts ok and then ends in an ink skid mark. Now take that and apply it to everything I do. I start off slow and deliberate towards the end I’m hurrying to get shit over with. I have the propensity for sloppy work when I get that way. You won’t see it in my craft at work but you’ll see it reflected in my mise en place. It’s destroyed. My work station becomes chaotic because I move in one speed.

Why handwriting? It’s a form of art for communication and expression.

It forces me to think and act slowly, deliberately

I’m synchronizing my motor system and my attention system

My internal dialogue is forced to slow down. I’m in control. My mind is not taking a dump on me it’s slowly releasing.

Emotionally regulating

And last but not least I was directed to it. Trail markers have spoken. One morning my wandering mind stopped, looked up at me and said “you should work on your handwriting”

Ok

My life has changed for the better when I’m listening

Handwriting.

A wordsmithing of letters

It pings. And when things ping I must allow

Ping a ling

Sounds mild until you do it. My built in therapist knows what it’s talking about. Your body will direct you to do some random things when you sit quietly for a while. I went to buy a regular ole notebook last week. It’s filled with letters, words and nothing else. I suppose they all are if you want to be literal.. an occasional coffee cup stain.

Cheers

I walked back into the guest bedroom in our old home with my old notebook I used for writing menu notes and manager meeting points and sat down on the floor. I slowly tore out all the pages with past notes and recipes. It wasn’t much I always forgot my notebook for meetings and would buy another one on the way in. I probably had a dozen notebooks with three or four pages of notes at the most. I rarely looked back at them unless it was for a new menu or concept. I sat on the old carpet in that back room for a bit and cried. It was early morning, most likely hungover I had locked the door behind me to insure some privacy. I

It was September 30th, 2020. I was newly unemployed after parting ways with my company I founded 8 years before. I was completely lost, my mind filled with self destructive thoughts and boy was it angry also.

Pen in hand I opened that freshly shredded notebook and wrote- “you need to slow down”

I wrote it over and over again

“you need to slow down”

“you need to slow down”

“you need to slow down”

I filled the entire page with that repetition.

“you need to slow down”

I looked down at what I wrote. A look of indifference on my face. An almost questionable expression as I reread what I wrote. Handwriting all over the place, my hands were still shaking from drinking the night before.

“you need to slow down”

That’s all I wrote. I closed the notebook, shoved it under some assorted clothes in the bottom dresser drawer reserved for seasonal clothes and never looked at it again. The thought was discarded as quickly as the sentences were written. I have no idea where that notebook is today. Most likely tossed out during our move the following few months. The notebook itself holds no value to me whatsoever.

But

What I wrote at that moment will always hold the most value and significance of where my life would begin its new trajectory.

You see, I didn’t write that. I did not write

“you need to slow down”

My hand did. My eyes witnessed it and my memory will serve the statement that “Chad wrote this”

But I didn’t.

That was the first time I met him.

Met who?

Me

The future me. That’s who

I never wrote that sentence. I looked down at my notebook thinking “why the fuck did I write this out?”

“you need to slow down”

I shrugged my shoulders, wiped my tears off my cheek and put on my “I’m fine” mask as I walked back out of the room. What I had written was quickly discarded, I had a box of old work t-shirts on my mind that had to be thrown away in my company’s dumpster (I was petty for quite a while)

I never saw that notebook again but I can close my eyes and see that one page I filled with the same lines over and over again like I had wrote it seconds ago. Ink still wet. As quickly as I discarded the message and notebook after I wrote it never left my mind.

Like a small tattoo you forget about until you see it in a full length mirror, I get occasional reminders. It’s the future me touching base. It’s taken me years to realize this and a hundred dozen trajectories that highlight my path to my future self.

When you read my journaling about my work and future it’s not that I’m lost, I’m only listening who’s speaking to me. I’m waiting for the next chapter to be released.

Auto writing comes to me at times. I recognize who it is now.

This isn’t mystical. Time is irrelevant. There’s an infinite number of paths I can choose or have already chosen for my own future. A lot of whispers. I’m listening for clarity not murmurs. I’ve devoted hours of meditation for stillness, focus, shadow work, regulation and integration.

I listen. I don’t get it or nail it every time but I hear it. I observe it.

“you need to slow down”

I didn’t get the automatic writing thing until one day as I was journaling my typing announced “your reckoning is over”. I still get chills when I read that. Have you ever had someone or something express themselves out of you? It’s a wild ride.

“your reckoning is over”

My future self letting me know enough is enough. “You’ve done your time, let’s move on.”

Same person. Same one that turned the light on in the back of my mind to tell me that my drunk days were coming to an end.

Me -“whatever dude we’ve been down this road before”

The light “you’ll quit when you’re ready”

Tom Petty Learning to Fly is on my headphones I swear to god when you’re listening things will speak to you. Excuse me while I pause and listen for 4:40 minutes.

“Now some say life

Will beat you down

And it’ll break your heart

Steal your crown

So I started out

For god knows where

But I guess I’ll know

When I get there”

*wipes away a tear

If you know you know.

I’m learning to fly

I’m not chasing my future self. I’m resonating with it. I’m following the attraction riding the current.

Integrating

I’m listening to me. The present me will guide my future. I ripped my rearview mirror off about a year ago. Hell you can’t even see out of my truck’s rearview anymore how somewhat prophetic.

You see

I’ve begun to slow things down.

Because I told myself to years ago. That’s why it’s still fresh in my mind because I just caught up to it. I’m writing it as we speak.

It was me, here now at this moment.

I’m catching up to that person I’m meant to be.

I’ve slowed things down

And it’s beautiful.

I’d enjoy cooking much more if I didn’t get paid for it. I appreciate the skills that I have honed over time that have allowed me to make a living out of it but cooking has been shoved down my throat for decades now. If it’s not the cooking part it’s the serving part, overseeing the production of such items. It’s so overdone- to me and 💯 it’s completely me. Even when I see friends of mine with amazing talent showcase their food I am unfazed. Not in a sense that the food is meh, my reaction to food is meh.

Food service has owned me for most of my adult life. I watched my father do the same thing until he couldn’t. I keep my body as level as possible. Sick days mean no pay. I look at some of my old food posts and occasionally smile.

“I made that. I created that before 40 other places in town started doing the same thing.” That’s all food is now for the most part, replication of imitation. Not everyone but most. There’s still some good stuff floating around out here in town. Unique but not forced or over the top. Some of my old pics I’ll delete for good. I tried to force some odd ideas onto a plate just to see what would happen. I’d fuck up waffles for a while or I’d throw a dare on a plate. I recall deep frying cream cheese icing for a waffle special. I never counted calories while making a special. Decadence sells at brunch. Why do you think you see those ridiculous Bloody Mary bar skewers? Whole fried chicken on a skewer with a double cheeseburger and a wedding cake on top. I hate those things so much. I don’t even go on Greenville foodies anymore. I can’t take this town’s palette. I’m a hater I’ll be the first to admit it.

I spent my two days off camping to disassociate from the world and then came back home to immediately work on a 15 foot grazing table. Biggest I’ve ever done. I crafted a sushi boat filled with prosciutto wrapped up like sushi rolls with cucumber rolls filled with pimento cheese and salami. Bought some small clay pots and made mini crudités bowls with them topped with sunflower picks. Turned some fruit into some edible origami, folded around 6 lbs of uncured meats, made about 8 different spreads. Spent a day off finding new wooden platters and bowls because these take a beating over time. Created two of these 15 foot grazing tables back to back within 48 hours of each other. With one finger tied behind my back I sliced it open while cooking in the mountains Sunday evening. It needed stitches but the ER was about 90 minutes away if you add the time it would’ve taken me to pack up my shit with a finger squirting blood all over my campsite. I wrapped it up with a paper towel and tied two of my daughter’s hair bands around it. You need both hands for charcuterie. Index fingers being the most useful phalanges. I feel like I’m authoring for sympathy here and that’s not the direction I’m trying to go with. I cut my fingers all the time. That’s why I was out of bandaids while camping. It’s like an electrician getting shocked. It’s part of the job. Finger is still wrapped up. I don’t want the half of my fingernail dangling to bump anything.

Where were we

The tables looked great. One had to be delivered to Columbia an hour and half away in 85° heat. I drove 10 miles over the speed limit to keep it from getting hot. My truck is well insulated with an airmax fan but a AC controlled van would’ve been better. Went into work before the roosters warmed up and got back home from cola by 7 ish. My wife, who has a full time job, is my helper most of these days. I know it takes a toll on her too.

I pull up to these events and I get lauded by my clients.

Praised

Admiration

And I feel nothing.

I smile. I’m very appreciative of the words and encouragement.

But

I feel nothing much after that.

It’s tough being creative without the passion. This is what I struggle with everyday. It was the same at Southern too toward the end. 30 feet of charcuterie in 48 hours is a lot. Throw in a few box orders that I allowed to slip through just in case the sandwich side didn’t pull its weight. It rarely does. Somedays I stand behind my prep table and wonder if anyone has made as much charcuterie in their entire lifetime as I have in the last 5 years? That’s not a flex for me. I struggle sometimes when my head isn’t wanting to agree with my day and it begins screwing with me -“ you’re just replating food”. There’s more to it than that I know but sometimes my mind knows how to piss me off.

I’ve got 10 months left on my lease.

I’m a big believer of create more than you consume. This is the way. My paradox is that my creating is forced and consumes most of the time. On slow days when I’m inside the deli I’m like a caged wild animal. “Why am I not outside? Why do I have to stay inside these walls staring at this building across the street that’s been under ugly construction for the past year and a half?”

Listen

I love what I do

Until I don’t

30 feet of grazing tables is wild man. Like painting a tapestry with a deadline.

Twice

I’m limping today. My body does that when it’s tired I rarely notice anymore.

I’m letting things out folks. Nothing more. I also smiled when I woke up this morning. A smile of accomplishment and gratitude. The tables went down perfect. The timing was immaculate, the pay was worthwhile. Almost a month’s worth of charcuterie forecast in two days. I smiled because the work is done and I can go on with my day. This catering had been sitting in the back of my mind for three months. Ive got another one in about 6 weeks. Piece of cake now I’ve got two under my belt. I remember my first grazing table back in 2021 I didn’t sleep the night before. I was much more anxious back in my drinking days.

The table looked good y’all. Both of them did.

I just don’t want my legacy to be that guy who made kick ass charcuterie.

Marshall Tucker is singing to me in my headphones just at the right time

“And I’m searching for a rainbow

And if the wind ever shows me where to go”

“I’ll say to hell with that pot of gold”

That’s all.

Peace ☮️ and love ❤️

I miss reading the newspaper. Sunday newspapers were my favorite. Big, thick and full of juicy news and stories. I never had a newspaper subscription but when I was the GM of the steakhouse I worked for 16 years, we had the Greenville News delivered to us daily. I’d walk out front of the building right after I turned off the alarm to grab the morning paper. I’d turn on the coffee machine and brew my first morning coffee while I counted the bar till to $300 and walk the previous evening’s cash deposit to the bank. This was the late ‘90s people paid with cash much more often than they do now. I was scheduled to work at 9 but I’d get there half an hour early to give me time to enjoy a cup of coffee and read the news. During this era of my life my morning pre work routine was abbreviated. I’d wake up 40 minutes before work. Shower, shave and eat a bowl of cereal while standing next to my kitchen sink. Sleeping in was imperative at that time. I still had alcohol in my veins from the night before. There was no scrolling, no emails to answer from my phone my desktop at work housed all those conversations. I didn’t watch the news on tv, I still don’t.

I’d unroll the newspaper and sit at one of the deuces by the bar. I’d have my double brewed coffee, thicker than molasses, sitting next to the paper, two empty sugar packets with the stirring spoon holding them down as to not stain the table. Ashtray filled with my first Marlboro light of the morning, open book of matches I never used lighters.

Front page was never my first choice unless some crazy shit happened the day before and I wanted to catch up. It wasn’t like it is today. Big news might’ve been every two weeks or so now it’s a partly cloudy with a chance of apocalypse every morning. Sports page was my go to. I’d carefully unfold the newspaper and separate the sections. Baseball season was my favorite time to read the paper. I was a stat junkie for years I could recite every Braves starting lineup along with their stats before every game. I knew Maddux’s era better than he did. I knew Chipper would have a better game that night because he was facing a right handed pitcher. I’d moan along with McGriff when he’d go into a slump. College football too. I’d pour over the stats of my favorite players on Sunday mornings. Sports section seemed much lighter when football and baseball seasons were over. The front page was always the last part I’d read. Comics, of course, were a fav of mine. Bloom County will always be the best one for me with Calvin and Hobbs being a close second. Peanuts for nostalgia sake. BC, Zits and Herman. I still haven’t laughed at a Doonesbury strip.

Crosswords were done in ink I was cocky. Jumbles next and crytptoquotes if I wasn’t too hungover. Two cigarettes while I filled in all the game blanks. Starched shirt hanging in the office so I wouldn’t smell like cigarette smoke before smelling like hickory smoke for the entire shift. I’d scan over the obits for familiar names. This is how we used to find out one of our old acquaintances died. Morbid but it was a part of life. I even read the classifieds on Sundays and clipped some sales ads that I’d never use.

My early days at the Hyatt I worked the 5am shift, my job was to deliver the USA Today to all of the Hyatt VIP members. Sometimes I’d have a stack of hundred plus, holidays I may only have five. By the end of my short career there I could toss the papers under the doors without slowing down. It was the USA Today that I’d drive down from my campsite in the Rockies to pick up to see what was going on in the world of Chad. I had no cellphone or TV. I spent a month up there without a clue of what else was going on in the world. It changed my entire life. It’s the life I’m chasing again.

When we had newspapers the news felt more stable. Our sources were reputable, journalists had more credibility and heart. Now I no longer know what or who to believe so I have to make my own judgements.

Buying the Sunday newspaper on my way to Sunday morning breakfast will always be a peaceful memory. I used to keep a few on important days. I still have one from a photographer that took a candid shot of me and my daughter standing over my stepfather’s grave on Memorial Day. One of my favorite photos ever.

Newspaper got me fired from the Hyatt. My arrest was in the paper when I received my DUI. One of the execs caught it and turned me into HR. I was head of transportation. They didn’t want the public black eye. I don’t blame the newspaper though.

Great for packing dishes, swatting flies or hitting an employee over the head. Or so I’ve heard.

The news was just different then. Now? Everyday is breaking news. I think it’s time for some fixing news. I don’t do the news anymore I’m surrounded by it from everyone else’s opinion, agenda, outtake and rage. It’s like a mob of angry people orating the world news. Bring me back the days of the consolidation of information. World is too big for me to made aware of all its problems.

Too much static.

Peace ☮️

I had a decent day at the deli yesterday. Not the best Saturday ever but not the worst. In my head I play “guess your sales total today” when I walk into work and it landed right around what I expected or just a tad under. In comparison to the rest of the week it was decent. Lunch has been slow as was the charcuterie orders up until Saturday. April is a slower month for me. It’s hot and cold. It’s one of the reasons I choose April as a travel month. Same goes for September although the possibility of late summer weddings always helps.

The deli is still odd to me with my forecasts. It does what it wants when it wants. I have little control over the flow other than maintaining consistency and I’m pretty darn good at that by now.

After 3ish I was able to sit for a bit and take a break. I had little activity on social media earlier, it was one of my take a break from scrolling mornings I do every other day. I opened up my memories on fb and reread what I had written a year ago today. I had titled it “One hour of gratitude”. I journaled while filled with my feels. I was venting in a therapeutic way but while reading I could feel my teeth grinding on the other side. I was writing out my frustrations to get them out. Work had been a ghost town that week. I was deep in the dumps. I could feel the pain of the author. Deep empathy towards his worry. I knew exactly where my head was when I wrote it. If you read it you would think I was in control but I was writing to gain control of myself. Often times my writing reflects my mood of that day or an entire week. This was a week one.

I read it again and I smiled.

I smiled because this too had been a slow week as was the week before.

But

I’m more regulated and relaxed.

Im growing.

I’ve spent the last year or so reprogramming my brain and my looping behaviors.

My reactions to situations

My attitude towards situations that take me out of my comfort zone.

Deleting old parts that no longer fit me. Some focus on their physical appearance, gym time, cardio, diet. Sure I do that too I’ve been going to the gym since I was old enough to drive to one. I eat decent I can’t be a fat dude that walks around in 5in inseam shorts everywhere.

I’ve been focused on some mental marathon training. Strengthening my nervous system, reducing my anxieties, shitting on my stress.

Growth

To read an old journal entry and witness your progress first hand is a good reason to smile.

And I did

Meditation, the shit works. Shadow work, shit works.

Letting shit go

Works

I’ve spent the last year taking my hands off the steering wheel

My foot off the gas pedal.

I love that scene in Dances With Wolves where Kevin Costner, in despair with the thought of losing his leg, parades himself in front of the confederate soldiers. Closes his eyes while galloping on his horse, hands in the air, giving himself up to everything.

That’s the vibe I’m trying to give back to life.

Riding that horse. Eyes closed but with a smile.

Growth

I love witnessing it firsthand

This is my daily devotion to myself.

And it’s working

If I go through my memories I rarely go back more than 6 years because it feels like I’m reading a perspective from another person once I hit 2020. I smile sometimes and other times I wince.

“I remember that guy”

I said the same thing when I read my blog from last year -“ I remember that guy”

Growth

I’m heading to my old hood for a walk. I miss my N main walks. After my walk I’m taking my mountain bike up to Hwy 11. No camping this week but I’m going to make breakfast by a little lake up there and read on my tailgate. Maybe a nap.

Growth

Cheers

Anytime I begin to write I’ll stare at the “add title” prompt at the top left corner and decide on my subject for the morning. Some mornings the title will steer the subject matter other times I’ll title it after I’ve finished. There have been several cases where I’ll start writing and it’ll become a jumbled mess and sit in my drafts for good.

Journaling purgatory.

I’ll wake up at 4:30 with a story in my head and I’ll have to get up and start my morning so I don’t forget about the subject. I used to write about rants for a bit. For a solid year I did deli write ups but one morning my brain told me I think about business too much and I stopped cold on the turkey. I no longer live and breathe work.

I had a good download session last night while counting my sheep before bed. If you read my blogs I touched base the other day on how vacations can begin to rewire your brain into a new identity for yourself if you allow it enter and hang out for a bit. This vibe tuned into my life while I stargazed in New Mexico. I stared into the skyline for over an hour, a giant circuit board of galaxies, pulsing, scattering little bits of light of cosmic synapses.

Soulful downloads

Downloads come in different speeds. Some are overnight, I’ll wake up with an epiphany in my head thinking “the fuck did that thought come from?” It’s usually a new perspective, something that may cause me to pause and reflect, rethink about how I’ve handled certain situations my entire life.

Example

I’m the type when I come home from work to spew all of my negative interactions of my day to my wife as soon as I walk in the door. Not towards her but someone to help absorb my stress. “Here’s some negative shit I need help carrying around for the rest of the evening”.

For the longest time I thought I was only sharing my thoughts and feelings about some negative vibes I had all day. One day not too long ago during a little session of stillness my mind tells me I should be more focused on protecting my wife’s energy. My eyebrow raised as I told myself that I’m stealing her energy by projecting my negative thoughts towards her. That popped into my head the other day as I was exhaling all of my negative power points onto her after work. I looked at her face and watched it tense up. I watched her shoulders tighten and then slump.

I have negative thoughts everyday. My mind doesn’t necessarily revolve around them most days, generally I’m an easy going person until I’m not but when I’ve got a shitty thought in my head I always felt the need to share it with my wife. Not as an attack but more as unloading a weighted plate off my chest onto hers. “Here’s gimme a hand with this vibe”

As a couple of almost 20 years it’s important to open up to each other. I don’t throw only negativity towards her when it comes to my day she’s the first person that gets a screenshot of a 5 star review or my elation when I get a large catering. It’s not all negative but the pendulum definitely swings more toward the negative.

I’m aware of it. I’m making adjustments as a result.

Little downloads

Others come slow. They are already in your mind or soul and are slowly coming of age. Almost like growing your hair out. You have to be patient, you have to maintain your course of actions over time. This is what I’m dealing with at the moment. I felt a trajectory of transition while coming home from Utah. Felt it slowly coming into awareness.

Because that’s exactly what it is

Awareness

I wrote about it to help capture it. As I’ve mentioned before the downloads are readily available but you have to tune into them and hold still.

Be still on the inside

Tune out the distractions and distortions

Break the old looping patterns that previously defined you.

It’s that simple and yet it’s ridiculously hard to hold that sequence until it sticks. Your brain doesn’t like change of routine.

At first

I felt a healthy download last night. Difficult to describe in words and not shareable only because it’s mental molding of clay reshaping if I can allow it to. May’s a busy month for me. Hard to hold onto new things in my head while still going through the motions.

If I’m not making sense I get it. This one is for me to write out so I can hold onto it. Writing helps things stick to me. One hour of focus every morning makes good things sticky.

The stickiest of the ickies

My brain just goes “here’s what you could do” and I have to sit still a bit and listen. Like a short class at school.

Take some notes

Pay attention

Absorb and hope it sticks. Not every download sticks around

Sometimes your memory is full of thoughts that need to go into the recycling bin.

Let it go

That’s been the plan after my reckoning.

Let

Shit

Go

When I allow myself to sit still for 20 minutes at a time my mind and body start to solve little equations on its own. Your soul has its own built in AI. Except it’s just “I” honestly.

I = U

Soul intelligence. SI

All you have to do is give yourself a timeout on a consistent basis. Sit still, eyes open or closed it doesn’t matter. Turn everything off. Your soul is speaking to you all the time you can’t hear it because of all the noise. Sometimes I’ll drive a 100 miles to find the silence of peace but most of the time it’s right in front of me.

Like right now.

☮️

Camping alone in some places can keep your nervous system on its toes. I try not to camp in shady places unless I’m left with no choice and if I do it’s a four hour nap so I do fall asleep from driving 16 hours in one day. I gotta admit I’m not sure how many of those trips I’ve got left in me. The driving wears me down a bit.

I’ve never had anyone bother me when I camp gas station style I rarely stop in little town gas stations that go complete dark at night I prefer big truck stop lots or a Cracker Barrel because there’s other people like me camping there. Walmarts not so much I don’t care for the customer base. I’ve had one vagrant walk around my truck in northern Texas and he was greeted with a tomahawk from my tailgate. I think he was more nosey than anything. I didn’t hand him a questionnaire.

I’ve had raccoons terrorize my peace in Beaufort, one almost stealing my truck keys. Deer will scare the shit out of you when you aren’t expecting them. They may be docile but they can get big and when they enter your camp unannounced it’ll catch you off guard. I’ve been terrorized by cows more than bears. Cows are bigger, their shit is too. They’re loud, clomping around and MOOOOOOO all times of night. It’s like sitting next to an adult who smacks their food. Lot of free range cattle out west. Last thing, they smell.

I’ve had two bears come visit me while camping in the Appalachians. One looked more surprised than me it walked right by me before seeing me and scurried off. All two hundred plus lbs, it wasn’t big but big enough. Another mom with her cub walked by close enough for me to see them but kept her distance. At least 60 yards away. Not really my campsite but close enough for me. I’ll sometimes travel with a deer cam to see what critters come into my area. 99% if I see something it’s a deer or raccoon. If I’m in hunting island probably a cat or two. Not big cats just feral ones.

I picked up a beam of light in Moab last year. Still not sure what that was unless it was a dust devil. I don’t go too over the top with paranormal things, I can’t relax if I allow things such as Bigfoot, skin walkers, dog man, moth man, werewolves and such to enter my mind. Do I believe in such things? It wouldn’t take much for me to believe in Bigfoot. World is a big place. Plenty of places we’ve never explored. It’s possible. I’d rather not see one first hand to be honest I don’t carry any extra pair of underwear with me when I hike. I do believe in alternate realms, dimensions and portals so Bigfoot isn’t far fetched to me. If it does exist I feel it’s somewhere in between what we can see and what we can’t. Hence the constant blur. Or people are just full of shit. Pick your side.

I do get some weird vibes some places, there are a couple of spots I won’t camp anymore and I’ll get to one or two shortly. I’ve gotten “something is watching me” vibes a few times but I let my imagination go wild when I’m in nature. I try to feel for things, sight, smell, hearing I’m always trying to reach out. I’m always scanning for wildlife. Not for invaders but for curious animals.

I don’t consider myself a brave person. I’m familiar with this environment enough to understand it and allow myself to be at ease. I don’t take my surroundings for granted. I’ve gripped my pistol a few times just from vibes and or distant leaves crunching. I’m wired tight. I’ve got quick reaction times.

I’ll pull into an unfamiliar spot and sometimes leave. I’ll get a not so good feeling and move on. I’ve done this multiple times. If my stomach doesn’t like the spot I move. Intuition is paramount in this situation. Obviously landscape is important too. I’m leery of flooding or fallen trees.

I don’t fear any man of any type. I’d be more comfortable camping with a serial killer on the loose than grizzly country. I can kill a man, people die with ease and we all die eventually. I’ve got a much better chance with a serial killer than I do with a big bear or cat. Any random person walks into my camp you’re going to be greeted with a gun hiding under the small blanket in my lap. You won’t see it until you do. Linville is full of pull offs to camp right off the road. Some of these sights have amazing overlooks and often times asshats will pull right up to your site and take pics. They will literally walk right in front of my campfire setup with me sitting down and stand in front of my site to take a pic. It’s public land, I’m not the owner but maybe just maybe don’t do that. Especially when it’s dark. I had some gravy ranger pull up to my site open carrying with a friend a few years back when I camped off my tailgate. They were friendly enough but I’m not a fan of any Tom, Dick or Cletus open carrying around me in the woods. They took some pics and left. The whole time Captain Gravy had a 9mm following him around from my tailgate.

Have some goddamn sense people.

I’ve had two weird experiences I can’t explain while camping in Linville. One as recently as yesterday which is why I’m writing this. It was enough to make me consider my camping options up there.

A brief introduction to the environment of where I camp. I drive up to a poorly maintained gravel road near Morganton, NC. It’s about 14 miles long, lots of washboard trails, loose gravel, deep ruts and mud. There are about 40 pull offs where you can camp. Some are 10 feet from the road, some are big sites where several campers can fit while others are so narrow you can barely squeeze your truck in between the trees and rocks. Some are well maintained while others are rutted out from rain and wear and tear. Theres another pull off up there where you can drive into the mountain and not see anyone all day. I like these spots if I’m staying for a couple of days. People drive up and down these roads on dirt bikes, 4 wheelers and corollas. Most cars can make the drive but when it rains you better bring a sleeping bag and a sandwich. I rarely need my 4WD unless it’s been raining. There are two sides of the mountain, ridge side is the money shot side. You’re facing the gorge, great vistas especially at the top, I like these spots for the sunrise, when the earth is tilted just right the sun comes right up in your spot. It’s amazing. You’re forgoing privacy for the scenery. You’re usually about 20 feet off the road. People can see you while you’re camping. Also the weather system is unpredictable on the ridge. You can expect random 25 mph gusts from out of nowhere. The other side is the wooded side, more trees, denser forest, canopied areas much farther from the road. You can still see the road but some spots you can hide completely. Don’t be too invisible though someone else may think it’s vacant and pull-up on you. I always leave my hammock out hanging, like when your college roommates would tie a towel around the dorm door for the “do not disturb” moments. I camp in these spots more often than not. No wind to blow my awning in the air, less distortion, less road dust and no tourists taking instagram pics. When I had my trailer these were ideal, I could leave my trailer in a large open site, leave everything aside from food out and go do my thing. I go on Sundays to insure I get a good spot. I’m coming up when everyone else is coming down. Some days I may be one of a handful of people on the entire mountain. It’s serene. Maybe a little too much.

One time about a year ago when I still had my trailer I came up on a late Saturday afternoon to camp. My intention was to pull off to any spot I could find, I knew the good spots would be taken on the weekends. I was staying two nights. I’d find temporary accommodations the first night, keep my gear tight and the next morning I’d set out to find my ideal spot. I have about 6 I enjoy up there. I found a narrow pull off on a sharp turn by the road. I’m familiar with the spot as most of them. I’ve driven this road well over a hundred times. There’s another spot right up the road about 50 yards from the turn that sits on the road. I backed my trailer into the narrow trail and set up camp for the night. It was around 6pm plenty of light still left in the day. I’d make an MRE for dinner so I wouldn’t have to break out my entire kitchen. As I was unloading I heard a noise that sounded exactly like a couple of kids or teens trying to make animal sounds. Almost like primate hoots. They sounded human. I knew there was another site up the road I just assumed they were letting their kids explore the woods behind me. It’s pretty thick back there but there are a couple of game trails around. When I heard the hoots I smiled and hooted back. The hooting immediately stopped and I didn’t hear a peep for the rest of the evening. I made a small campfire, ate my dinner and slowly made my way up to my tent.

I don’t sleep in my tent alone. What I mean by that is I keep at least three options of protection with me when I go “upstairs”.

Something sharp, something blunt and something that goes bang. I’m not paranoid, I’m prepared. I have a family that counts on me to return home from every trip. I’m not a hero and I’m not that brave. Anything disturbs my sleep will have a war on its hands. I mentally practice these situations in my head as to not be surprised should something actually happen. And I’m wound very tight. There are no surprises. I expect to be bothered.

I go to my tent no later than 9. My senses are dulled from no light and I’m sleepy so I turn in early. I’ll read in my tent or if I’m on the ridge I’ll stare off into the gorge. I wasn’t ridge side this night. I take one bag up into the tent with me. It usually consists of a headlamp, water bottle, fixed blade, lightweight charger so my phone charges overnight, headphones and my pistol. My keys also stay in the tent with me now (see earlier story about raccoon). I never sleep through the night when I camp. I’m a little on edge only because I’m out of my comfort zone of security. Around 3am something “punched” the front flap of my tent door. I say punched because it was quick. Like a jab. A hard jab because I felt the trailer move forward from the impact. If you aren’t familiar with roof top tents they are made of thick heavy canvas like you’d see from the big military style tents or jeep tops. They aren’t lightweight nylon like the backpacking kind. You can cut into them with a thick sharp blade but it’s tough hide. The roof is a hard composite like a turtle shell. They’re rugged and strong.

But

It’s still canvas. Not actual walls. You’re still exposed in a collapsible shell. The punch woke me up immediately. I sleep with my head pointing towards the door. I dont like sleeping with things right above my head I’m slightly claustrophobic.

I didn’t panic but I will openly admit I was scared. To hit my tent above my head would mean reaching up to around 7 feet high. Bear? Maybe a really big one. There was no sound before the punch that I know of and no sound of anything retreating. I didn’t jump up when it happened I stayed low and quiet. If anything was trying to get me to up and out of the tent it wasn’t happening.

I routinely practice in my head several different scenarios of what can happen when I camp. Breakdowns, injuries, bad weather and worst case scenario -violence. I put my gun in a specific place in a specific way to give me quick access. If I get an invader my gun is at my feet, still holstered of course. I use my keys to hit my door lock on my fob to light up the site like an alarm. I’ll put my headlamp on and turn on my flashlight. My headlamp could blind an airplane on full power. My flashlight is a blunt instrument pointing me where to shoot with my gun. I’ve practiced it mentally and physically. Dozens of times. My reaction time is better than average and if it’s a human barging into camp I’m probably more prepared than you are. Also I don’t think I’d hesitate to shoot. I have no issue putting a large hole into a maniac’s center mass. I fear no man. We aren’t bullet proof. Now a healthy apex predator? Yeah now those scare the shit out of me in a very healthy way.

When I woke up from the punch I did exactly what I trained myself to do.

Unholstered my gun

Grabbed my headlamp (left it off)

Flashlight lined up with the pistol

Turned both lights on while repeatedly hitting my truck door locks which in return causes the truck to flash so you’re experiencing a laser light show immediately while I’m scanning the perimeter with my pistol in hand. No I’m not ex military I read a lot of GI Joe as a kid.

I saw nothing.

No tracks

No camp disturbance

Nothing missing at all.

I sat upright in my tent for half an hour. Complete silence.

I finally laid back down this time with my head away from the flap and stared at the ceiling for two hours until sunrise lit up my camp. I walked around the entire area, no tracks were found. No branches fell and it wouldn’t have mattered I had my tent awning up with poles a branch would’ve had to fall under the awning to hit my door. Another option it could’ve been a bird of prey grabbing a some late night dinner on my tent door. One big enough to push my trailer forward? It’s a 2000 lb trailer when loaded up. With a 175 lb occupant inside. No feathers from impact were found. I had my mountain bike with me so I took it for a ride up to the next camp site to see if my neighbors had any problems. There were no neighbors up the mountain. Camp site was untouched, no fresh prints and the campfire was stone cold. No one had been there recently I had just assumed I had some neighbors due to the human made “animal sounds” I had heard the evening before. You know the difference between a natural sound as opposed to one that sounds mimicked. Once I realized there were no neighbors and the sound I heard wasn’t teenagers I got a little chill down my spine. I returned to my camp, loaded up and moved across the other side of the mountain ridge side, closer to the road. I wasn’t leaving because of my experience the night before but I wasn’t staying anywhere near that spot again.

Needless to say I didnt sleep well that night and my gun stayed a little closer.

Sunday night

So my last trip up to Linville was this past weekend. I parked on the ridge side closer to the road only because I wanted to rise with the rise as I call it. Sun comes right up at my spot to the left it’s a good moment to for my morning sun gaze. My first night in my Moonlander and it had been over six months since my last trip up there. I was excited and a little euphoric to be back. Set up was done, I cooked a steak and watched the sky fade for a bit. No music, no noise just stillness. The gorge is a little unstable when it comes to weather patterns and I started to get some fun wind at my site. Not crazy but 15- 20 mph winds will blow all of your shit everywhere. I have a much more stable shelter system in place now but the wind will still make your windows whistle all night so I decided to roll my gear and truck a quarter mile down the road off the ridge. I’d already closed camp because of the wind so all I had to do was close my doors and head down the hill. I pulled into a nice shaded spot, large canopy of strong trees and little to no wind. I’ve stayed in this spot before it’s a solid place. I parked and opened up my camper and sat on my little sofa watching the sun go down between the trees. I was in stillness mode, half meditating, half asleep. 9pm on the nose I closed up shop, lock my truck and my back camper and went to sleep. I went in and out of consciousness for most of the night it rained a little so the inconsistent pattern of the rain kept me up. Around midnight I finally fell asleep.

I woke up at 5:04am I know this to be the specific time because I had turned over to grab my phone to see if it was time to get going. As soon as my phone lit up the back door of camper pulled in a jerking motion like something was trying to yank it open. Not a push or punch like my tent it was definitely a tug. My truck went backward this time not forward. I had my ceiling motor fan on so I couldn’t hear my outside surroundings that well. If something ran off I couldn’t hear it. My ecoflow battery, which powers everything is right by my head so I quietly pulled out my dc adapter everything was attached to and my camper went dark and quiet. I grabbed my pistol (I’m getting good at this now) and lied back down with my gun pointed toward the door. No lights inside this time I didn’t want to be seen I did the same thing I did with my truck key fob and hit the lights repeatedly while I scanned my site from my portal window.

Nothing that I could see. Because of the rain it was pea soup fog all over my range of sight.

Awesome.

I texted one of my friends who I knew was up and gave them the run down just in case I “disappeared”. I was angry more than scared this time. Something tried to open my back door. Something tried to enter my camper. What animal can pull my camper door back? Once again, possibly a bear? No sniffs, no huffs and once I got out of my camper once again, no prints on the dirt. It had been sprinkling rain barely, my truck was dotted with it. I would’ve seen tracks of a bear. Human footprints? Could’ve been mine, could be from the last occupant I couldn’t tell. There were none in placement that looked like a pair or even two prints facing my truck. I didn’t stick around too long I felt exposed while I looked at the ground at 6am in the fog with a pistol in my grip. Headlamp wasn’t much use.

Something definitely tried to enter. My back door was locked tight. My old truck camper didn’t from the inside. I used a bungee cord to keep it shut. Had it been my old truck this may have been a different story. How my camper is set up, you’re not coming inside without my permission. A grizzly could probably tear the door off with some effort or a window but it won’t fit in the window. I’m not in grizzly territory. Black bear can’t get inside. It could open the back maybe with some effort and dexterity if I left the doors unlocked. Best case? It was a bear and had managed to get its nails under the door hinges. As o turned on my phone light I scared it away and its claws were under the door handles.

There were no markings of that on the door. Dust is an amazing fingerprint finder. There were fingerprints all around the handles but they could’ve easily been mine. Nothing out of the ordinary.

No sign of life. I got up, started my truck and drove through the fog until I was in an open area to fully inspect my truck.

I have no clue as to what came into my camp. Bigfoot? I think if it exists it could’ve easily ripped my door off. Not sure how much a Bigfoot can bench press.

This won’t keep me from going back up there. It will make me question where I choose to camp when I go back up. Two occurrences in over a 100 plus visits doesn’t make it a consistent pattern but it does get in my head. Human encounter? You’re just dumb and looking to end your career of breathing.

Animal? Well I’m in your corner of the world I’ll stay respectful just don’t try to eat me. Anything else? I’m not ready to accept that either but you have my full attention at the moment. Let’s keep this civil. I’ll say this if there’s a third time I doubt I’ll come back up for a fourth. Unless I bring a companion.

Happy trails yall .

I haven’t been camping up in my go to area since early October. With my changing of rig plans, work and weather all conspiring to keep me from hanging off my favorite mountain ridge I haven’t made my way up there. 7 months is quite a break for me. The terrain will have pumped itself full of chlorophyll over the last month, bugs are starting to bug out a little and it’s just a matter of time before a horny whippoorwill wakes me up crooning in the early morning hours. I love it. I love all of it. There are certain places in this world that rise you up, center your head and heal your soul. It’s not the same places for everyone we all have our own little chambers of powering up.

This is mine

Linville Gorge, NC.

Spring and fall are the best times for me although I’ve spent many a cold nights up there with zero insulation. I’ve fixed that now. Summer nights rarely peak above 70° at night towards the top and if it’s too warm there are plenty of shady spots opposite the ridge. I’ve gotten to where I like these spots more. Better camping canopies and privacy. The ridge will reward you with an amazing sunrise but you are usually closer to the dirt road. During drought times you’ll get covered in road dust from drive by’s. It rained a tad last night so I’m grateful for some heavier dirt. There may be a burn ban up there I’ll have to check. I’m already one fine deep last time in New Mexico from not seeing a 3×3 index card on a nearby bulletin board stating there was a temporary fire ban. $330 for that miscommunication. I was irritated by the transaction. I’m not the biggest rule follower but when it comes to nature I always maintain respect for any guidelines in place. I’d be the first to stomp out a fire in a fire ban situation. Regardless it was my fault for not double checking.

I brought my propane fire can for backup. I love a good fire and it’ll get a little chilly tonight. My plans are to get up there early and sit under the trees all afternoon. Monday I’ll hike and maybe explore Boone. I may tackle Grandfather mountain, the fun side. Other option I might sit in my chair for a little longer and head back home. I keep my itinerary loose. If it rains I’ll sit under my awning and read. The area has been calling me for weeks.

Sundays are a swell day to head up most are breaking their camps from the weekend so the gorge goes quiet for the early week. Holidays that revolve around Mondays I stay away. Peak leaf peeping season I stay far away. I love that yall will go out to the mountains to observe some beautiful scenery but I’d rather you not do it while driving 25 in a 45.

That’s all

The work weekend was well worth the sweat and I’m rewarding myself for it. Normally I take a few weeks off after my long trips but I’ve got some catching up to do. And as I said earlier she’s been calling me.

And I must go

The moon is in a Waxing Gibbous phase this evening. I’ll get some natural light post sunset and its moon sign is in Virgo. If you follow this type of thing all it means is I should have a chill night. I’m good with that. I’m not a huge astrology guy but I enjoy reading about it and sometimes it hits just right. The more I study it the more I dig it.

My intention is to settle in after dinner and prop my chair on top of my camper and sit in stillness until I get sleepy eyes. Today will be a slight fasting day. Dinner will be my only meal. Somedays my stomach will test my patience and I’ll bring a small pack of nuts to keep me from getting nauseous. It’s the coffee on an empty stomach for me.

I’m stoked.

Super

Stoked

And I’m done. Time to pack up. Later gators.

This has nothing to do with Bruce Springsteen. I don’t mind ole Bruce, Born in the USA is one of my favorite albums before Bruce turned into a whiny doppelgänger of Woody Allen.

Just raspier. Bruce’s voice coach should have told him to sing from the diaphragm after belching Born in the USA a few hundred times.

Ok bye say goodbye to Bruce.

Have you ever noticed when you go on week long vacation that towards the end your mind starts suggesting changes for your habits or lifestyle? You may be driving in the car on the way home from the beach thinking

“I think I’m going to join a gym when I get back”

Or

“I should eat more fish”

“I should walk more”

“I’d love a new hobby”

It doesn’t have to be something health wise or physically beneficial

“I’ve got too much shit in my closet I should to get rid of some things”

“I should read more books instead of scrolling ”

Or the opposite “I’ve got some great ideas for a new work project. Something completely different and unique”

I’m not the only one who has this monologue playing in my mind toward the end of my time off. I’ve listened to friends and employees talk about these things when they come back to work. I’ve done it most of my life although I see it much differently now. A different perspective.

It pops in our heads as we drive home or maybe it’s the last couple of days at the beach and your mind has started to assimilate a new part of your routines. You’re walking in the sand, grounding yourself whether you realize it or not.

Roaming a new city square out of town you’ve never visited before.

Exploring a new country, culture and or new language you’re not familiar with.

New ideas and thoughts are slowly downloading in your mind. Your daily and weekly routines are frazzled. Your thoughts no longer are looping, your nervous system is observing new activity. The old you is reacting to a new reality. A new setting.

New game.

As it’s absorbing all of your new energy and thoughts it’s trying to feed you upgrades on your new environment. Once you’ve settled in. My observance is the first day or two your mind is almost pushing you back home to your old self. It only wants you safe. You may break down on the way out there, plane may be delayed, weather might turn terrible, luggage may get lost but once we arrive and reset our minds go “ahhhhhh”

That’s our brain saying “oh we are really trying something new. We are committed? Let’s do this”

All the time we are living what hopefully is our best lives during this time our brains start connecting to a new WiFi connection. Not that old one that drones while we work from home or plays the same 15 YouTube channels in your mind. You begin to get wider bandwidths, new connections, clearer signals, less distortion.

Your brain is assimilating. It recognizes you’re enjoying a new experience and environment. The universe, your own little reality because we all have our own, begins to feel these vibrations. It lifts you up, it peps your step.

And your reality follows suit.

The higher your vibration the clearer your WiFi connection is to your soul.

Good, good, good, good vibrations. 🎶

Many times the WiFi network starts before you go on vacation. Maybe you spent 4 months at the local CrossFit before a cruise because you wanted a better beach body. Or you’re spending more time in the mountains while you’re training for a long trail run in Colorado.

You’re training your body and mind for a new reality, a new you. You’re physically and mentally changing your surroundings. You bring your new life briefly into existence.

Happy

Tan

Toned

Relaxed

Less distracted

Challenged

Still

And then you go home. You begin to resume your old life, reality.

You make your morning coffee at 5:15 am just like you did the week before you left. You start your weekly laundry routine, emails are shuffling in. It’s Monday so dinner will be chicken and rice and you’ll eat it in the same seat at the table that you assigned for yourself years ago. Bedtime is 10pm you’ll roll upstairs, brush your teeth in the same mirror, one last pee, plug your phone next to your nightstand and assume your natural sleeping position on whatever side of the bed was deeded to you as a couple.

You drive to work the next day after your oatmeal breakfast and next thing you know the old you is back.

Maybe you’re a “my job is slowly killing me” person

Or “why do these things keep happening to me?” as you’re running late for work and run out of gas

“I hate my body. Nothing fits me right anymore” after you’ve been back for a month and fell back on your eating habits.

You’re right back to the old you. You had a glimpse of an alternate version of you but it slipped away just a nonchalant as it entered you.

A download

An updated version of you

Your reality was ready to change at the snap of your fingers. And you let it go like a child releasing a helium balloon.

Chad, what?

My common way of thinking and perceiving things got ripped out of me in a roof top tent in Beaufort over a year ago. I’ve talked about this several times although it took almost a year for me to feel comfortable about it enough to mention it. Some think I’m crazy and I just may be. Maybe psilocybin melted my brains the night before although it wasn’t a big dosage. 4-5 grams max and it was the next evening when it happened. 26 hours after my little trip.

Psilocybin opens doors in your mind. Your brain after so many years digs deep ruts in how you think and perceive things. All psilocybin does is it opens new routes while you’re enjoying the show. You think differently, your traumas, agendas, ideals, beliefs take a back seat for a while.

Mine are still on break. Or at least some of it is. I have my trauma issues but I recognize them now and reckon with them. Religion went out the door, political beliefs and my normal daily routines.

I received a download. A transmission of sorts. Your brain is a receiver with a WiFi connection. We’ll come back to that if I can maintain my concentration. I’m a tad exhausted from driving 2000 miles in two days. I’m back home btw as of midnight last night.

I recognized my post vacay thinking patterns years ago. I’d come back from my annual gulf trip and I’d feel my old thinking trying to assimilate into another Chad. I’d take home a couple of new habits or routines I’d picked up playing around the beach all week and insert them into my daily schedule. Some would stick while others dissolved as I went back into my normal routine. The balloon would slowly float away. The download I received sat unused for weeks and my brain memory would push it into the iCloud to allow other storage to stay and stagnate over time.

Upload received. App remained unopened.

I always saw it as some fresh ideas and thoughts coming to me because I had idle time to think. I’m not cooking brunch for the masses, I’m not doing inventory, working on schedules or food cost. My mind is at ease. Not as many distractions. I was still a tad muddled. I liked to indulge in a few bottles of vodka when I was decompressing a few years back. Your mind heals over time when you put the bottle down and if/when you’re paying attention its antenna picks up better signals. I would’ve never noticed my WiFi connection if I hadn’t stopped drinking. My downloads would come and be disregarded over time. I was a distracted drone for most of my life. I’m not saying alcohol kills all your downloads. I’m only saying it did that to mine. I was also drinking daily.

Heavily

I started doing these long trips out of my truck back in 2020. I was still drinking then but I was entering the twilight of my drinking career. In fact in retrospect these trips helped kick the habit by allowing me to shake up my environment.

I began these excursions well before I paid any attention to my behavior loops. My ruts, my own little Punxsutawney life as I call it. Stuck in the same shit different day concept. Driving long distances has its advantages. It gives you time to think. No phones, no internet on some routes or the traffic has you so frazzled your hands are glued to the steering wheel and your only focus is watching the road. Whereas the week before you were sitting on your sofa enjoying your favorite tv show and media reels.

These trips have the capacity of hardening you. They may begin to change you while you’re knee deep in mud scraping your shoes off in 40° mornings in the middle of a desert or when you come back home and you’re evaluating your reset. That’s all that it really is – a reset to revamp yourself. To forget your patterns and routines. You get stripped from your comfort zones. All of them. You’re sleeping in shady parking lots, camping in a random places without the feeling of security. Howling hail and winds trying to push you off a cliff while surrounded by a herd of bovines. Sitting on the side of a Texas backroad pouring gas in your truck because you didn’t pass a gas station for 60 miles. Bathing out of a bowl while standing on a rock so your feet don’t get stay dirty. Brewing coffee inside your truck because you can’t light a flame in 40 mph winds. Climbing a mountain you’ve never heard of before because you saw a sign on the side of the road. I do some of these with fake bravado and confidence while others I do trembling scared shitless.

I strip myself completely from my comfort zones and feel the downloads come in. It took a few years for me to recognize this.

Recognize doesn’t work here. I’ve always observing when I’m thinking on all the new things when I’m out and about but it took a bit to grasp what my mind was trying to do.

For 10 days I’m completely changing my routines deliberately. My phone screen time drops dramatically, my sleep schedule is erratic, my routines are thrown out the window all the while I’m trying to navigate a whole new terrain. Distractions are slowly dissolving as my mind is carving out new habits and thoughts every moment. There’s no tv, work phone calls or even small talk with friends. I’m creating a new reality for myself. A completely different life albeit temporarily. This last one was a tough one. Weather changed our plans completely I had to map out a new route and adventure on the go. I was already out of my comfort zone and jumped into a whole new reality in 24 hours. We dipped out of Utah and headed seven hours south to Sedona. On a grand scale not a big deal we were in the region but I’d been planning the old route for weeks. I’ve been working on being more of a go with the flow type of person and not letting a change of plans ruin my day. Sedona was an option before we left I’d kept one eye on the weather the whole time as a just in case.

“Chad, you do this to rip up your comfort zone and this is a classic example of how to make it happen” is what I told myself.

Seize the fucking day.

We arrived in Sedona late afternoon. Made dinner and went to bed exhausted after the long drive. I made it a point to find a solid hike and googled “hardest hike in Sedona” and set my sails for Bear Mountain. Might as well go big or go home. Bear Mountain will screw with you because of its false summits. You rock climb up the first part and think “that’s not so bad” only to see a couple of hikers hundreds of yards away climbing up another mountain.

You climb up that mountain and think “oof that was a bit rough but I did it” only to see those other hikers are going up yet another ridge of another mountain. That’s the last one by the way it’s only 2.5 miles up but it’s steep, filled with loose rocks and some overhangs that will make your ass clench. I’m terrified of heights. I do these type of things to yet again take me out of my comfort zones. I enjoy them but it’s usually afterwards. There are parts where I want to throw up. Sometimes I do. In my head the whole way up I’m telling myself “this will pay off for you” I’m not sure why that was playing in my head over and over but it was. It kept me going. These hikes are tough when you’re exhausted from driving and lack of sleep. I can do Table Rock in my sleep but there have been days where it’s kicked my ass because I didn’t mentally prepare myself. The hike was tough. When I got back to the truck the only thing I could say to Shane was “water. I need water” I gulped a quart of Gatorade in 2 minutes. Ate lunch and died in my truck bed for a few hours while Shane went fishing.

Our itinerary was screwed and we had to start heading east again soon. Our original plan was to go through Colorado and camp somewhere off of 70. Possibly red rocks area. I opted for New Mexico, I had done a little research on some cool places because New Mexico is on my radar for a trip next year post summer and recalled a spot where you could see the stars at night. My mind pinged on the Cosmic campground, Glenwood NM a 3 acre dispersed camping area just outside of Alpine Arizona (a place I had no idea existed and it’s beautiful). We drove for several hours to this spot literally in the middle of nowhere and found a swell spot on top of a hill. We heated up some MREs there was zero civilization within 30 miles. I looked at Shane and said “I think we are suppose to be here” and Shane nodded his head in agreement. The weather, the rerouting and change of plans took us to this little hill in the middle of nowhere to sit under the stars.

I spent the evening staring straight up to the sky. I’d walk from one side of my truck to the other I wanted to see every star in the cosmos. The skyline was like a cosmic circuit board. You could see the pulses of the stars and meteor showers. There was no moon present. The stars were all ours that evening. I soaked up the universe, gave my traveling companion a hug and went to bed.

We spent the next two days driving home, road weary but happy. We stayed the night in OK City at a hotel but I chose to sleep in my camper. The trip was coming to an end but I wanted one more night of away from my comfort zones.

I used the shower at the hotel the next morning I still had red mud stains from Moab a week ago. I looked at myself in the mirror for the first time in days and my first immediate thought was “you’re already changing”

That’s when this small epiphany began to grow in my mind.

My first thought was to shed my old skin.

“Wanna change my clothes my hair my face”

It was a weird random thought at that moment. It wasn’t a “go buy some new clothes” thing more of the person I was staring at in the mirror was waving goodbye.

“Now’s your chance to once again update yourself. Your download is complete”

“Do with it as you will”

I’m paraphrasing obviously it’s difficult to explain the experience.

My mind, body and soul was wide open to change, new habits and perspectives. I was model of clay at that moment. 10 days of wrenches in my cogs. I was primed for deliberate manipulation.

It was acknowledgement.

All of this time, this is why I’ve been obsessed with doing these trips.

Each time I go out, I come back a different person. I shed a little more of the old me. I break myself down, take away all my daily distractions and old responsibilities.

I could break down every shift from every trip.

But

Maybe another time. This entry keeps gaining legs. It keeps running.

There’s a direct correlation between my transitions and my travels. There is/was no reckoning without them. Throwing myself into a deep hole of uncertainty and uncomfortable situations = series of downloads.

Natural WiFi

You might as well have a radio dial installed in your noggin.

Tune in to who you’re supposed to be

Your ideal resonance is out there waiting for it.

Find your station, there are billions of versions of you.

The hard part is once you find your frequency you have to keep it in range. Just like driving with the FM radio on. You find a great station and listen to it until you are no longer in range. It becomes static, distortion. You start turning the dial to find another station just like it and lose your signal.

This one is all yours but you have to maintain your resonance to hold onto it. You can’t keep holding on to your old presets.

Resets change your presets

That’s the tough part. Once you get home and back into your comfort zone it feels so good to be back home. Warm bed, electricity, coziness

Your old routines and loops are waiting for you.

The choice is yours if you want to save game at this point and continue a new game or turn off the switch and go back to the same player character. How many references am I gonna make here?..

You have to change your mental image of yourself. Your preprogramming.

“I come home in the morning, I go to bed feeling the same way

I ain’t nothing but tired, man I’m just tired and bored with myself”

Shed that skin my man

The stars spoke to me that night in New Mexico.

And I’m still listening. That’s why I’m writing this because I’ve been instructed to. Maybe not for you personally but for me. It’s a part of my downloads.

I needed a spark

“You can’t start a fire without a spark” Shane if you’re reading this I’m sure you’re enjoying the irony of that quote.

That whole trip, the rain, the snow and cold rerouted us. Took us to the night stars instead of the sun. It was supposed to happen. And it did.

I was literally dancing in the dark, under the stars.

“Messages keep getting clearer”

Download complete.

Peace.