Bearded Gang

The thought of work tomorrow drains me

It separates me from my woods

An eight hour leap of time through teatherment

Financial angst attachments

107 miles post work until I reach my zen

A climb to saddle the ridge

Echo of the gorge on the right

Tree canopies and curtains on my left

A declaration of solitude that no one else will hear

A sunrise only meant for me

A fire to roast after I ask the trees’ permissions

“My fire is for warmth and food. Not to be used for burning your branches”

“Only deadfall will be used. No saw will touch your fine bark”

I say this every time.

Because the trees know me

I can feel them exhale when I arrive

Hugs and high fives all around

Always thank the trees

And bless your water

Ahhh coffee with a breezy sunrise will make that tetherment loosen it’s sticky vocational grip

Let a wet tentacle in frigid water

Leggo my leg yo

Coffee

And then a daydream

Looking back on some of my journaling experiences it’s surreal watching and reading my voice and tone changing. Like a jagged rock tumbling in a river.

Slowly

But surely

Smoothing itself out

I feel smooth right now. Smoother than I’ve been.

I walk by some old triggers and smile.

*triggers – “gotcha bitch!”

“Wait?? Where are you going??”

I’ve been focusing on my regulations

That nervous one

I put my nervous system in a La-Z-boy chair.

Just relax slick, put your feet up and chill

Sooometimes he tries to get up to fix something that doesn’t need fixing. It’s my job to keep him chilly.

As a Willy

I’ve got African drums playing in the background headphones style.

I went out to dinner last night at my old spot to support a new spot. Driving by that strip used to be triggering. Probably flipped a bird or two in my youth (5 years ago). Sat in the same spot of the bar where I used to chug a few vodkas after work, sat under bar lights that were no longer mine and had some dinner. Paid our tab and left.

No “it’s just not the same” or “I preferred the vibe of the old place” thoughts. Dinner was good. Service was as well. I walked in as a patron and left as one.

I had to remove an echo. And I think I did.

That’s all.

That’s a big all y’all

I went home and scrolled through some old journal entries about my previous business ventures and smiled.

“There’s none of this left in me”

I made peace with my partners a while back. That was a big step for me. Making peace with the other guy (me) took more time.

I had told a friend not too long ago that I had peaked as a restaurateur long ago and I’m just now accepting it. The problem has/had been that I attached my whole existence, vitality, soul to that particular venture and always viewed it as a contender who took on the champ and had his ass handed to him. Even when I made some peace it was always there.

“I peaked as a restaurateur 6 years ago”

I said it and I felt my shoulders soften.

I say it now as someone who climbed a peak. And walked back down. Peaks are meant to be observed, enjoyed and then you step away to let others see and experience them for themselves.

It’s as simple as that.

My wife asked me “what do you think it would’ve been like if you still had Southern after all this time?”

I replied “I’d still be that person”

I was meant to find another path. I was meant to tumble in the river until I found my shape.

And a tumbling I did

That person was someone I had to be to see who I could/would become.

That felt good to say

Every day I inch a little closer to what I’m seeking.

I wore my father’s business failure like a heirloom for years man.

Hand me down tune of trauma

I’ve rolled past that now. Current flows as it should.

Regulated river rocks. Sounds like a bad cover band..

Think I’ll go for a walk while the moon still shines

Later gators.

I enjoy a good cup of coffee.

Location? Doesn’t matter

It can be on my sofa, tailgate or a quiet cafe on the side of a mountain

If I have to be honest that’s probably my favorite spot.

Mood won’t make a difference the coffee warms my soul

Let me smell the aura, sip the flow

Cup embraced with my two fingers and thumb. Add the ring finger if she’s a big one the more the merrier

Peace in a drinking vessel

Awareness held to my lips

Sipping the bean feels like a flick

You’ll figure that one out eventually

Sunrise pairings like fine wine and a feast

Perky- lating

Like beverage masturbation

A stimulus for morning stirring

Catch up man! Coffee is your lip’s first embrace

Unless your mate has already awakened you with their’s

That’s the only sensible replacement

Act accordingly

Brew the start of your life every morning

No more words for today

The beans have found me and I do not care

I’m in the middle of my work week. It’s Wednesday, it’s not a hump day for me I guess Thursday would be the day that my work humps like it’s framed to hump. I worked everyday last week so I suppose my hump would be a little more mathematical at this moment. I’m not conjuring up an equation for this it’s just an intro to my morning journal. Leon Bridges is my choice of background music this morning. ☕️

Historically this is the dead zone for service industry workers and owners. Back to school for the first two or three weeks is tough for most of us. Summer slows, routines are recasted and all that vacation money is just a beach trip memory.

Consumers are spent and tired

It’s a hold your breath and ankles for the month to month businesses. The time I was gone from the deli was a wounded turtle crawl for business, I choose my times off specifically for that reason. The last two weeks however have been quite abundant. Big caterings with a few little ones in between have kept me on my toes. I’ve got a morning four footer as soon as I walk into the deli to contend with after a 200 person lunch box order yesterday along with about 8 feet of charcuterie. This is exactly what the deli was built for. It’s nice to see a mental creation in full display of its capabilities. 200 hundred sandwich boxes were not that difficult. It flowed as intended. Little hiccup at the end sent me spiraling for a bit. I had a conversation with a full beer can as I passed it on the way home.

Beer “hi! Miss me?”

Me *sticks middle finger out of my truck window

The work day was a solid one

After work all I did was count down to my next tailgate sitting

“Saturday can’t come soon enough”

I thought I’d need a break from camping but she beckons

I reckons

I should go

My body is beat from yesterday. It’ll still retain that energy today. I’m doing my “yesterday was a long day” limp. It makes me look old. 30 minutes at the Y will loosen my bones a bit. I’ve skipped on my morning stretches lately. That was one routine the trip botched I don’t stretch when I’m on the road which is the best time to stretch.

My brain is drained this morning. My apologies. 10 straight hours of work yesterday is mocking me right now.

“Suck it up buttercup”

I used to tell my employees that on doubles.

Man I’m tired. I don’t like writing that because I feel it’ll only stamp the feeling of tiredness on my soul.

I’m not “too old for this”

I’m I need a new rhythm

That’s all

Had a little pity party after work last night. It was a small one I was the only invitee. Left my party hat in my truck though.

This start/stop shit is for kids Trix rabbit.

I prefer flow over braking and acceleration

That’s all

Is anyone hiring a travel essay writer? I prefer to settle on a tailgate over a dark room office chair.

Hikes over hoagies

A small Colorado ranch with about 50 plus acres next to a strong flowing creek. A few farm critters, greenhouse, homesteading, smiling, living.

Let me hold that for a bit right here.

Settling, saddling and easing

Peace

I left for Old Forge Saturday around 10am. My goal was to drive until I had enough of traffic and non turn signal commuters. If I had followed that course I would’ve pulled over in Spartanburg. Actually traffic wasn’t that bad for the first few hours until I crossed into Virginia and then the congestion stayed in my lane for about three hours. At one point I crawled for 27 minutes only to come up on a state highway pickup truck driving 15 mph with a big blinking arrow encouraging everyone to merge into the right lane.

No construction

No wrecks

No wide loads

Clear skies and roads just an asshat driving around with a big blinking arrow causing traffic to stop and merge. I had read a conspiracy not so long ago that the government pays people to slow traffic down and I scoffed at it. “You conspiracy theory folk have lost your damn mind”

Now I’m hesitant to call them out. For just about anything these days

Flat earth? Fuck it. Bring it

No astronauts on the moon? Maybe not

John Travolta is a reptile? Most likely

I’m kidding about most of these.

Most

My goals so far:

No social media or internet. I had to use my phone for navigation. My truck gps route did not align with my specific route of no tolls, no Jersey turnpike, no Washington bridge or any thing close to New York City. I’ve done them all.

I will not do them again.

I stopped for the evening about 20 miles south of Scranton .My navigation displayed only 4 more hours of driving until Old Forge. I figured that would put me in old Forge around 9-9:30am .Pulled into a Cracker Barrel to boon dock for a short sleep. Cracker is one of my go to’s for lot sleeping. You can usually find another camper or two there to keep you company. I actually had two for neighbors.

Another one of my goals was to fast for 48 hours. I made it 42 hours before I caved in. My morning black coffee made my stomach gurgle enough to break the fast. Still 42 hours later was a solid break. Sleeping in a parking lot of a restaurant almost broke me. Uncle Hershel’s platter was luring me back to my empty stomach. Once I fell asleep I was fine. The next morning I felt good. I mean really good. I’ve done some research on the benefits of fasting. Physical and spiritual.

It’s a good cleanse for both.

I was feeling light and euphoric. Music was crisper, my mind was flowing steady and I was hyper focused on my surroundings in front of me. So focused in fact that I didn’t notice the state patrol driving behind me with his lights and siren on. I had Paul Simon’s Graceland blasting in my truck, i was so engrossed I was crying to the chanting of one of his songs. I was driving to the music. Apparently I was steering to the music too.

The state patrol officer turned up his siren just loud enough for me to finally hear it. I looked into my rearview mirror with a resounding “holy fucking shit” I pulled over, rolled my windows down and put on my best charming smile. The trooper walked up to my window

“I’ve been behind you since New Bern”

Me, having no clue when I was in New Bern or what town I was in at that moment.

“Man, I’m sorry I’m in my own little world in here jamming to Paul Simon. I didn’t even notice you”

Smokey – “you were doing 70 in a 55”

Me -“oh was I? Man the speed limit shuffles every half mile up here dude I’m genuinely sorry”

Smokey “You were also crossing the center line of several occasions”

Me- “well shit maybe I was. Graceland is amazing”

Smokey “ Are you impaired?”

Me- “Sir I’ve never been more sober in my life. I’m in my own little world in my truck I’m driving up to camp in the Adirondacks. I’m just excited I guess.

Smokey – “do you have your drivers license and registration?

Me – I’ve got one of those two”

My taxes have been paid but I don’t like going to the DMV. The important part is I’ve paid my taxes. Right?”

Smokey- *stares at me for a long moment, grabs driver’s license “is there anything I should be concerned about on your license?”

Me trying to remember if I paid that parking ticket in Charleston two years ago “I think I’m good. God I hope I am”

“I’m too fragile for jail”

Smokey *cracks a tiny smile

Me *oh thank god I just might make it out of here.

After a couple of minutes the cop comes back. “I could cite you for about 6 things but I’m just going to give you a speeding ticket”

“Thanks my man. I mean officer”

*spits boot polish out the window

Then he smiles “if you’re going to Adirondacks check out Raquette lake. My dad’s favorite spot he wants his ashes strewn there”

I smiled and thanked him for the advice. My morning run in with the state trooper had been a trail marker in disguise. I have no itinerary for this trip. I’ve done zero research I set my sights for the Adirondack mountains with no idea where I was going to go. Officer friendly gave me my first stop on my itinerary.

He handed me my ticket and I set it in the glove compartment. I have no intention of reading the fine amount until I get back home.

As I drove off I started smiling, then I started laughing. Nothing can fuck this flow.

A few years ago I would’ve let that ruin my entire day.

I’d rather not get another one though so Graceland will have to wait a bit before I listen again.

I’m still out of the loop

Somewhat

I’ve got Birds by Neil Young as my first morning writing song.

A migration of love.

Neil could gleek back in the day with the best of them but man his song writing is luring.

I made my first box when I got back yesterday and I stared at it like a foreign object. The hardest thing for me when I go on these little sabbaticals is to bring back the domestication with me. I stare at my station a bit in wonderment, deli still littered with camping gear in little used corners. I’m still battering Barry with camping stories and thoughts. Specials? Features? New menu items? Never heard of em let me tell you about the near fist fight over a guy stealing my battery!

I stare at my prep and sigh

*phone rings

*email dings

Tetherment curls around my ankle like a constricting snake

Hyperbole? Barely

Work beckons

Bills reckon

I lost 4 lbs on this trip. Who goes on vacation and loses weight? Two day fasting probably helped. And the loss of my daily beer.

I wrote about cutting out my one beer last month and I have. I don’t know the amount of days it’s well over 30 plus. I’m fine with it for me it’s just another toy I can’t have because I’ll break it. I’ve got a few of these “breakable toys”, another word for addiction for me.

The beer pissed me off man. It was my reward. It made me feel like I was still part of the team. The socializing team.

Can I socialize without alcohol? Yeah. You can’t though. For me it’s like driving to the ocean with all of your friends and you’re the only one who can’t swim. “Chad can’t go in the water apparently he has the highest risk of drowning”

As everyone else goes and frolics without you. We’ll be back in a few hours. Me- ok! I’ll just go be by myself in hotel room.

“Great enjoy! We are all so proud of you!

That’s your social sobriety scene in one paragraph.

Sober events aren’t for me. I don’t want to go around the table and talk about how it used to control me.

Why I don’t drink anymore

The bad things I used to do with it

I have sobriety fatigue

Not in the way of I’m tired of being sober nope, not even close. I’m wide awake for the first time in my life’s career. I’m not going back. The ocean water is infested with disease, headaches, blackouts, excessive empty calories and depression. I’m the one standing on the beach with my arms crossed wishing I could show you why the water is not good for you but I can’t.

I won’t.

I guess I sorta did

Fatigued. Because I had to make a decision never to swim in that ocean again.

That’s all.

My daughter will soon be at that age where she’s going to want to swim in that water. I’m sure she’s dipped her toes in the surf. I had already at that age.

It bothers me.

But

I can’t lock her up in the hotel room. She will test the water and all I can do is offer is safe refuge. I just hope she swims better than her father did.

That’s all I’ll say.

But yeah that beer. My evening camping beer was my favorite. 10 plus days sitting on my tailgate without my favorite beverage. Well second, vodka will always be number one which is why I’ve gone.. *pulls out calendar and calculator = 1693 days without vodka or any liquor beverage.

*sighs

“I’d die without you” – PM Dawn plays in my headphones.

Oh the irony

My brain still barters for that beer.

“What about just when you’re camping?”

“Date night?”

“Once a week like Saturday night?”

And I’m just sitting here with my hands in my lap

“Nope, I’ll just break it”

Can’t have the nice things

I’m ok. I really am. The elation of knowing I’m in a state of control is a win for me.

But it always feels like a tie

I’m not bending y’all. I’m only observing. Big difference. I’ve got way too much invested in this.

My little sabbatical had nothing to do with this just sometimes I have to let it out to breathe. To be honest this wasn’t the direction I had intended on going with my journal today. It went sideways and I followed it.

Took it out for a solid staring

A spit shine of observance

No reckoning. That was a yesteryear thing.

Maybe it’s because I stared at that beer can at the gas station the other day like a one night stand.

One toe in the water. You bitch

A walk

A walk will do me good.

First

No thanks

Second

I kinda don’t wanna

I tweaked my voice for writing while I was plodding around up north. As I mentioned I wrote a lot. I’ve got a half dozen entries I may or may not post where I went a different pace with my journaling.

Hold please

“Ja mo be there” was playing in my headphones. It had to be changed.

I’m back

It’s funny, to me at least that when I decided to publicly post my journal entries on here I’d be mostly ranting and satire. Mostly comedic jargon and fart jokes.

But

When I got the ball rolling I ended up emptying my trauma guts on here. My heartbreaks, struggles with addiction, fear of failure and depression.

Each word I wrote was a stitch into an old open wound.

Acknowledging

Healing

Coping

All through my writing.

Throw in a spiritual awakening and then I went sideways for another 6-8 months dealing with what felt like a downloaded psychosis that took months to breakdown with careful discernment.

Still breaking it all down.

I will say this standing on the tallest building. Writing has been the biggest impact on my mental health.

Hold one give me a second here my song shuffles are not blending well with this vibe. “Too many puppies” by Primus is a little overwhelming at 5:45am. Honestly there aren’t many relaxing songs I’ll get from a group like Primus.

Not helping my journaling today Les

Back to the story

There’s just something about writing what’s on your mind and reckoning with it. Some of your thoughts and old little traumas can add up in your head. Carry their own weight.

Let it all out. You don’t have to post it publicly I don’t post everything on here but I do write it all out for me to see. It’s become a reference library for reflection. I love reading what I wrote a year or two ago. I can feel the tension or elation, the in betweens, emotions and situations.

My first thought or question

“Does this thought still roam around free in your mind?”

No?

Good

That’s growth old boy

If I read something that makes me cringe a little all it means is that I’ve matured. With my reactions to situations, responses, handling

I got a handle on it.

My focuses on subjects at the time

I wrote about my struggles with the deli. Do I still have them? Yep, but they don’t roam in my head like they used to. I’m able to look back on my writing and see the hurdles I’ve already jumped.

No need to return.

Returning is a pattern I’ve helped demolish through writing comprehension.

It’s also a refresher to remind me of the things I said I’d accomplish but fell back into the reality soup.

“Oh yeah I was going to take karate this year”

Huwaaaaaaaaaaah 🥋

“Your wildest dreams” Moody Blues is in my ears.

Once beneath the stars
The universe was ours
Love was all we knew
And all I knew was you

This song probably isn’t about what you think it.

*murky tangent

I’m still in my own world folks

My trip is still downloading. I’ve actually been a tad grumpy. Domestication is trying its best to strap me back on that saddle.

I don’t think I can get back on that horse anymore.

I’m out of sorts. Don’t hit that refresh button though it’s suppose to be this way.

Sammie Davis Jr is singing “I’ve Gotta Be Me” right now. Now that’s some fucking synchronized shit.

“I’ve just go to be meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee”

And then “I want to break free”

Thanks Freddy

6:15 and I’m syncing like the Titanic.

Sea what I did there?

Ouch

Anyway yeah I’m tweaking my voice on here a bit.

Maybe it’s a download I’m trying to assimilate

Maybe

Maybe it’s Maybelline.

Thanks Mr. Mercury for that song

No more song paring for the morning. My sync is full.

I’m here all day folks.

Yesterday was the first day I haven’t written in awhile. I spent my day fixing up our spare bedroom for Lily’s friends who are coming over before the football game Friday. It’s a simple little room made to give our daughter essentially a living space next to her bedroom. A sense of privacy in her domain upstairs. I had zero privacy as a teen. We didn’t even have locks on any of the doors in our house. Privacy is important to teenagers. Especially young ladies. She had a daybed and a little chest of drawers with a tv on top. That wasn’t going to work for friends coming over so spruced it up a tad. I drove around town to find some accessories and fixed up her room. She was grateful.

She’s my daughter. That’s the only reason I need.

I’m mentally watching myself from above to observe any physical and mental changes during my trip. I’ve written on here from time to time about how your behavioral loops and routines can get a healthy shake up when you go on vacation or do something consistently that takes you out of your comfort zones. I mixed a few of these together to create an internal cocktail to knock me off my old stagnant rhythm.

In my brief experience of acknowledging and understanding my cycles, loops, habits and rituals I began to notice how my routines would change a little, I’d feel out of wack because of the discomfort and I’d work my way back to my old self, my old ways.

It’s just easier.

I’m back home after my social media sabbatical and it took no time for my phone to gravitate back towards my hand again. I’m sitting in my favorite spot on my sofa, coffee to my left, cat to my right. Three days ago I was probably stirring a fire back to life while spilling coffee grounds on my tailgate. No morning yoga on cold wet grass and no hour of poised silence and journaling at this time. All of my writing was done in the afternoon or evening time after I found my plot for the day.

My last day off yesterday was also met with multiple work phone calls and some head scratching observations when I came into my deli.

“Welcome home big boy” *reality winks

Domestication rears its ugly head.

It’s 6:15am and I’m already counting the minutes before I don my work clothes and pack my gym shoes. Head off at 7:30 and come back home at 5:12-5:20.

Shower (again)

Rest

Eat

Sleep

I just summarized 75% of my daily life.

Oh and I pay bills

Now we’re done

A week ago I had no idea what my next day itinerary would be

Where I would rest

Place to sleep

Weather forecasts. I didn’t open my weather app one time. If the region smelled like rain I’d move to another. Temperature? Stick my head outside or feel my truck windshield.

I cooked and ate what I had. I left a crucial part of my cooking system in another box and had to change how I prepared my meals. All I had was a little jetboil and a butane grill.

Sleep? You sleep as well as the weather allows you. If it’s 80° at night you’re gonna sweat. Pouring rain is not as romantic as you think it is when camping. Speaking of weather I had a cloud as big as the entire sky begin to swirl over me outside of Pennsylvania. It felt like someone turned off the lights in the sky. I’ve never pulled off of to an exit because of clouds. Glad I did as the sky dropped an entire ocean over the horizon. Zero visibility as I sat parked next to a large brick department store in case I had to seek shelter. I’ve never seen a storm drop so fast.

That’s more comfort zone exercise than I care for. I was already in route home and a little worn down.

But

Now I’m home and man I’m craving that storm

That cold shivering morning feeling

The smell of burning wood on my clothes

The delight of cresting a ridge of a new town

A new reality

We procure our own reality. Most of us simplify it down to auto mode. That’s about where I am at the moment. Coffee, soft sofa, phone in my face, cozy room, mood lighting the way we like it. The upcoming task of work coming into view for the day. The work that we will not go above and beyond because it’s become like brushing our teeth or tying our shoes. When was the last time you observed how you brush your teeth? We do it in our walking sleep. Most of our daily lives could be labeled that way

Walking sleep.

Compulsive digital scrolling

Repetitive, useless behaviors, under- stimulated, little dopamine dabs.

Zoochosis

Look it up.

“psychological distress and repetitive, compulsive behaviors people develop from living in the unnatural, confined environment of modern society”

Most of us suffer from it. In our self created captivity. I know I do oh man do I. It’s hard as hell to walk away from all of the reels, comments, updates etc..

It felt good to break that chain for two weeks. All of the chains.

The difficult part is stopping yourself from stepping back into the cage once you taste your behavioral freedom.

“Why do you stay in prison when the door is wide open?”– Rumi

That quote always rides side saddle with me. Especially right now as I watch myself try to crawl back behind that door.

I’m painstakingly observing the process. One pulls me in (comfort) while the other tries pulls me out (fear)

Of course you want the comfort, it’s so much easier man.

I’m stretch Armstrong right now. 😱👋🏼——-🧑🏼‍🦲—— 🤟🏼 😇

That was bad..

“Let’s go back and chill Gangwer

Or

“Let’s go fuck some shit up“

Your choice

You’re living in your own private Idaho by the B-52s plays in my ears

Damn

That’s what I’m trying to escape. My little Idaho.

Idaho is beautiful btw

Not all music synchronizes. The current song is Johnny Blue Skies “Stay on that D baby till you hit that G”

It actually does fit. I’m gonna stay on that delirium until I hit that gold.

Good one Johnny

Man I’m just rambling. I’m rambling to keep my awareness that the guy sitting on the sofa is craving zoochosis while the guy typing is trying to hit that G.

Typing guy is gonna win this one.

Only the truck is parked. My mind is not.

I’m gonna let this trip finish its unfolding.

Later gators 🐊

I returned from my trip a day earlier than I had planned. No problems or issues my last leg was to be a wet one and fatigue was beginning to become a bit of a distraction.

3200 miles in 10 days

11 states travelled. Some for no more than half an hour while others I drove through the fat parts of the hearts

North Carolina, Virginia, New York, New Hampshire, Maine, Rhode Island and Vermont I submerged myself as much as I could in the time I had. Just the tips of Maryland, West Virginia, New Jersey and I dipped into Pennsylvania to see some cousins I haven’t seen in decades.

Spent a few nights in the Adirondacks, got pulled over by a Smokey in New Bern who laughed at my aloofness, he had been behind me with his lights on for two miles. Once he realized I was caught up in the moment of trip euphoria and jamming to a song on the radio he smiled and gave me some tourist recs. I hiked a mighty mountain called the Ampersand that humbled my legs and soul, paddled in lake Raquette with a coffee in tow. Stood before Whiteside mountain area in Wilmington, NY that looked like a picture straight out of the Rockies. Walked around Lake Placid before the birds were singing and tried to feel the energy of that epic USA/Russian hockey showdown. One of my favorite Olympic moments.

Spent a day wandering Burlington, Vermont and rested my tired traveling ass on the beach of Lake Champlain. Spent the evening falling in love with the Moody Blues while their music sang me to sleep and had God brushed against my soul through their lyrics. Eyes filled with tears.

Dipped back south and toured Newport Rhode Island. Walked about 6 miles around town, ate some fresh seafood, stood by the church JFK got married in, touched a few yachts and stared in bewilderment at the beautiful homes in Bellevue.

Headed north to Maine and enjoyed my second ever lobster roll (my first one was in the same exact spot 6 years earlier. Sat on the same rock by the water and took each bite with deliberate delight. Went souvenir shopping in the village of Bar Harbor and walked back to my truck covered in pizza sauce as I ate two slices on my way down the village streets. Missed my Cadillac mountain sunrise because of permit cutoffs. Went for a stroll on sand beach instead at 5am and had the entire beach to myself for the first hour. I sat on the rocks and watched the tide roll. The next day I drove up to Millinocket that sits at the foot of the mighty Katahdin mountain, the last stop of the Appalachian trail if your heading north. Camped right outside of town, sketched some nature love and journaled in my notebook, acknowledged my ability to slow my life down just as I had requested myself to do 6 years prior.

And cried.

Maine was my last stop before I parted ways with my old company 6 years ago. It was the final nail into my peace. When I returned home I was unemployed 24 hours later. It would be the following day that I would pull out an order old notebook and write over and over again “you need to slow things down”

It took me all of that 6 years to realize what it really meant.

And here I am living that notebook passage.

My next morning in Maine I rode along Golden Road for about a quarter of the way, stopping to take pics of the sunrise over the wetlands. I sipped coffee next to a river most likely named after a moose.

Drove the backroads down to New Hampshire to visit Mount Washington and had a Hipcamp stay over where I was bit on the leg by one of their dogs. Made some momofuku with a side of ribeye and slept wrapped up in a glorious 42° cold mountain morning. A pea soup fog would deter me from climbing Washington.

Seemed like a blessing in disguise because it caused a detour to see some family.

Took a long drive out of my normal path and headed to Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. The birthplace of my father. I had only been once before when I was 13. Before reaching Bethlehem I stopped in Easton to have lunch with an Instagram friend I’d never met in person. An 8th grade American history teacher, two sons, Greek wife and drives a Tacoma with a camper and RTT. How else would we meet on IG? Solid fellow, grounded but with a feral edge. If geography wasn’t such a factor I could see us sharing camping stories over a campfire on many occasions. I had mailed him a tent that fits over the camper door of a truck. I had no use for it once I sold my old setup so I mailed it to him. He insisted on paying but I didn’t give him an option. “If I’m up your way you can buy me a coffee”. He kept his word. He bought me lunch instead.

Bethlehem, although brief, was my final destination without an official itinerary. I hugged and chatted with cousins I barely knew because of geography and life’s trajectories. I shuffled through old photos of my dad as a child, pics of his first wife, the mother of two of my sisters, on a picnic blanket with my father lying beside her smiling. There are no photos of him and my mother embracing, sitting next to me act other or kissing. His first wife’s name was Martha. She passed right after my sister Kelley was born in the early 60s. I’ve always felt my father’s struggles even the ones before I was born. All of my photos of my dad are brief and limited. Usually of him standing by a B-17 or behind a bar. I got to see him holding his old dog I’d never heard about, pics of him with his dad, my two older sisters when they were just babies. One photo that looks like almost an exact replication of me and my daughter in the ocean.

I got to see my dad living his life for the first time.

Letters from POW camp, how he couldn’t wait for a cold glass of beer. He asks my grandfather to write his girlfriend, Mary Stover in Pittsburgh to let her know he’s alive and loves her.

“Don’t worry about me. All my love, ‘Ro

I saw my first photo of my dad’s mother. A few of my grandfather and my dad together. You could tell they were close. I don’t have any attachments to grandparents. I will never know what it’s like to be loved by either of my parent’s parents. They were long gone before me. This was my first experience seeing my grandparents together in a photo. My grandmother in a bathing suit, sitting on my grandfather’s lap, both holding a beer and a smile. She would pass by early in life also. Both fathers becoming widowers well before their time.

The photo filled me with emotions I cannot accurately describe. I carry all of this ancestral memory in my soul and I’m just now seeing some of their faces. I felt a click.

Maybe this was what my trip was all about.

I didn’t take this trip to ascend higher from some sort of mystical realm or state. My little light told me to take some time away from the distractions.

That’s all I did.

No internet, no social media, no news (probably my favorite part)

I took a flip phone with me but after a couple of days I got the hang of carrying my iPhone around without treating it like an appendage. No elitist mentality really, I still used my phone for navigation.

Zero itinerary, Old Forge, NY was my only plan.

The highway patrol gave me recs for paddling and hiking

A friend the day before suggested I try out Golden Road and I did. I sent a him a photo of my truck idling on the side of that particular road. Thanks for that Jim!

Campsites were drivebys or local recs. My first night I slept right next to river in Moose River Plains. I didn’t see a soul for 5 miles. I got the recommendation from a shop owner right outside of town.

Burlington, Vermont was just a chance of driving with no gps. I headed northeast on a compass point.

Rhode Island was a recommendation from a friend that lived there for some time.

Maine was on my itinerary but a region had not been named until the day before.

Bethlehem? Called me the whole fucking time I was out and about. It had to be done.

I spent a lot of time with myself. No moments of grabbing my phone for dopamine hits.

I wrote. Man I wrote a lot. I think this was another reason for my trip. To fully connect with writing. I took full advantage of it. I felt a whisper of “write more” as I melted to Moody Blues. That night is hard for me to describe so I think I’ll keep it to myself.

I found peace while struggling with my solitude. The wall you built to protect yourself gets torn down after a few days out of your comfort zone.

Am I reborn? It’s nothing like that. I think I started the forward motion of some long distance changes on a horizon I can’t see yet and a new pattern may emerge.

Will emerge I do say.

Back to life. Back to reality.

Maybe.

We shall see.

The hardest part of solitude is when all the distractions are gone.

You only have you left to deal with.

All of you

Me

I can feel me.

Overthinking thoughts until it’s just someone else talking

STOP

I’ve told myself that before to shut up the other guy

I say it a lot

Too much

Because he won’t

I feel like I’ve jumped a timeline that’s under construction

Gridlocked behind vehicles, lanes closed, flagman asleep at the wheel

I’m trying to get his attention

He sleeps

I honk

He sleeps

I need to find the next exit

Timeline

6 lanes open wide cmon gimme what I want

*twirls mustache “what’s going on with this?”

Chad take yourself seriously

Nah

Not while traffic sits still

In hazy exhaust fumes.

Like smoggy spirits ascending into the sky while we must sit and smell their farts

Good one Chad

Not

Wild Horses plays on my phone

Not tonight Jagger. She’s too far away

Love is she

“Let’s do some living baby, after we die”🎶

That’s solitude rearing baby

Just the three of us in here

Me

Myself

And

A mosquito

*pig stutters “gngngngngngnight folks”