Bearded Gang

Several routines I’m focused on shaking and shuffling around,

Writing during odd times of the day. 90% of my journaling is first thing in the morning. Right after my first sip of coffee and meditation. By 7am I’m putting my journaling down for the day and resuming my daily routine. Routines cause loops, shrinks comfort zones and leaves no seasoning to your average daily excitement.

I’m here to shake shit up.

Also I don’t assign an itinerary until I’ve had my coffee and clean up my campsite and camper. I got up this morning, brewed my coffee, showered while it cooled off, jumped in my truck and drove east. No preordained destination, no plans. East towards the coast was my only direction. I stopped in Lake Placid for a walk and a bagel. To be honest I was expecting a better bagel experience being in the upstate of New York but it was a tad disappointing. Placid is a tad smaller than I envisioned I can only imagine the logistic cluster fuck of hosting the Olympics there not once but twice. If you forgot that Placid hosted the Olympics you’ll be reminded on every street corner and t shirt shop. Drove through Keane valley and took in the multiple maple syrup stands along the way. The maple tree is the geographical matriarch of subsistence in this area. You’ll be reminded on the roadside every 300 or 400 yards. If you drive right past one you’ll still have a few more dozen opportunities per zip code to get your hands on maple syrup. I did not buy any. I still have a half dozen bottles from my trip to Vermont 4 years ago. I rarely cook pancakes at home but here we are with an accumulation of about a half gallon of maple syrup in my cupboard.

Yes I said cupboard I’m 54 years old.

Speaking of Vermont that’s where I ended up after driving aimlessly for about 2 hours. Burlington, Vermont. Home of the coat factory I believe. I haven’t seen one as of yet it may be hiding behind the countless Dunkin Donut drive thru’s or maple syrup shops.

My first impression of Burlington is that it’s similar to Asheville but more progressive. By that I mean it has more homeless than Asheville. I walked by a city park and watched a half dozen or so “hippies” playing air drums on the bench. A few were dancing to the beat (did I mention they were air drums?). Burlington is the home to Vermont College which appears to be a tad liberal. Enough to make the University of Portland change its mascot to the Ronald Reagans. As I’ve settled down over the years I’ve become a little more progressive but I’ll never achieve that level of vibe here. Electric scooters seemed to be the norm for the college student’s transportation. You’d hear the barely audible whisper of the electric motor as a young lady with blue hair, wearing fishnets and cut off jeans would zoom right by me followed by the faint whistling of her septum piercing as the passing relative air sucked through its fleshy portal. Mini howls like wind through a narrow corridor.

If accosted for money by one of the locals you may receive a “god bless” or a “go fuck yourself”. There were no warnings as to which reply you’d get from whom. I found a decent campground next to Champlain lake or Lake Champlain, I’m not sure which is the formal nomenclature, rests at the eastern end of Burlington. Maybe the western end too I didn’t walk that far. My camp (number 35) is a two minute walk to the lake shore. I spent an hour laying on a nomadik towel rotating my position like a rotisserie chicken to burn equal parts of my pale body. Each time I left my towel for the water to cool off a half dozen terns would quickly run up to my spot to look for snacks. Trampling my towel and sun hat (yes I have a sun hat I’m 54 years old). My imagination would get the best of me as I’d imagine a scenario of one of these little sneaky shits picking up my key fob and heading off to Canada with it. Or my eyeglasses.

Side tangent there’s a little bar and grill hut that serves fish tacos. I’ve got my watch set for 6pm to go back down to the lake and enjoy some. It’s the closest I get to feel like a Jimmy Buffet song. “Fish tacos in paradise 🎶”

Wait..

Fuck

Anyway I checked out their menu for non alcoholic beers and all they had was something like a Diet Heineken Tap Water spritzer. I just sighed with a mumbling of “it’s like ya’ll don’t even give a shit about me”

I’ve eaten out more than normal this trip. When I go on my little siestas I’m always excited to see what I forgot. For this trip I left my gas stove pressure regulator in one of my other boxes. All that means is I can’t cook anything with my twin eye burners. I’ve got a little Jetboil for coffee and MREs but I’m on a MRE break. The problem with those is they all smell exactly the same way when they are leaving your body in gas form.

Take that as you will.

I sleep in a very confined space when I camp. Also I like beans. No wonder no one will camp with me.

I like to keep tabs on things I lose and break on my trips. I’m on day three and I’ve already broken a charger and I lost my deer cam. Ok I didn’t lose it I know exactly where it is. If you’re anywhere in the Moose River Plains it’s about 15 miles in. Buckled to a tall tree next to the river. You can have it. It’s just a bunch a snap shots of my walking around my truck eating Doritos

Current situation I opted for a poke bowl instead of the fish tacos. Take that Jimmy Buffet.

Old Forge, New York will be my first destination when I depart tomorrow. I’d consider this the hub of the Adirondacks. 14 hour drive that will be broken up into one long drive and then a quick morning jaunt. I’m hoping to be inside of Old Forge mid morning. I’ll park in town and walk about for a bit to loosen my legs and realign with my new coordinates. I’m hoping the tourists and campers up there are as predictable as the ones down here- Weekend campers who pack up and head home after noon on Sundays. I want a small spot on a lake to rest my mind and feet. To me, there’s nothing like pulling into a town you’ve never been before and absorbing its own little culture and vibe. I try to blend in as much as possible I don’t like being labeled or seen as a tourist.

I have no itinerary as to how long I’m staying there. It may be two days it may be the entire time although that’s not likely. White mountains are on my list to climb. I’ve done the Franconia Loop twice in New Hampshire. 9 miler with a 4000 foot incline in 4 miles that climbs over Little Haystack mountain, then you walk a ridge line for 1.7 miles over Mt. Lafayette and Mt. Lincoln before descending back down. It may be the most grandiose hike I’ve ever done.

I’m not doing it again but I’m hitting up its neighbor Mt Washington which is the highest peak in the northeast and has the world record for the highest wind speed ever recorded of 231 mph. The weather can be erratic.

Just a tad.

Maine will be next I’ve done Acadia, it’s beautiful but crowded. Baxter state is one my list again I may go for Katahdin for a climb on the Knife’s Edge. If you aren’t familiar with this mountain it’s where the Appalachian Trail ends if you’re coming from the south.

Logic would explain that it’s the beginning of the AT if you’re heading south.

I currently don’t have the AT trail on my bucket list but I could probably be talked into it. Not this week though.

That’s my only scheduled itinerary for my trip. The rest is left to my trail markers and weather. I haven’t looked at one weather map as of yet. Not sure I will all the hurricane seasonal weather are sleeping at the moment.

I activated my trip flip phone yesterday and it took me five minutes to text my wife “hello”. Don’t expect any text diatribes from me for the next two weeks..

I’ve mentioned I’m going internet less and social media less. My smart phone will be in a case in the back of my truck for emergencies and I’ll have to make a few work emails for product ordering. If I need my phone for something important such as finding a place to camp I will but for the most part I intend to ask the locals for direction. That’s where you find the best places. I won’t be on social media, my phone will not be used for anything else.

My intuition will be my GPS for the most part.

I’m planning on a three day fasting. I may start that as early as this evening. By mid week my caloric burn will be well above a 1000 daily I’ll need some nourishment to keep my energy levels up.

This trip has no other agenda. I’m acclimating with feralness.

New word.

A 12 day divine leave of absence.

Noise reduction for the soul.

Cake icing for my old reckoning

My cat is going to miss me. Maybe

I’ve tweaked my gear and goods a hundred times. I’m missing one pair of wool socks. It’s causing me to lose sleep. I’m weird about my socks. If I lose one I tear the house apart looking for it. I’m down a pair and a half.

Fuck

Oh well

Maybe I’ll get a tattoo while I’m out. It’s been 5 years. It’s odd that my affinity with tattoos dropped dramatically with my sobriety. Not sure how it’s related. Could be the exit from the service industry too.

Maybe a “I ❤️ NY” on my ass cheek. Oh there’s the old Chad speaking. Sit down sir.

I’m excited. 10am tomorrow. Truck ahoy y’all.

I’ve got Chopin in my ears right now. Had a friend last night throw some suggestions at me so I curated a little playlist and that’s where we are right now.

Nocturne No. 2 in E flat Op. No 2.

If you’ve watched the Truman Show you’d recognize the composition it plays in the background while Truman yearns for the love of his life as he creates a collage from magazine cutouts to recreate her beauty.

One of my favorite scenes from one of my favorite movies.

I’m in a good flow right now and feel like I have been for a minute. A long minute

Took my daughter with me to Spartanburg to shop for a pancake lens for my camera. We had lunch at my buddy’s pub Delaney’s and chatted about life the entire time. We took her car because I promised I’d help her wash it that day.

I watched her shuffle through her songs on the stereo. I smiled when she’d play Ventura Highway, Hootie, Johnny Cash, Sister Golden Hair. She has some of her father’s soul in her. We may go see Sturgill together in the fall. If it happens I’ll be counting the days.

I love that she’s well into her 16th year in this life and she still likes to hang with her dad.

Weird math equation but since November, 2 2024, she’s had me longer as a father than I had mine.

My dad passed February 28th, 1986. I did some birthday math in comparison to hers and mine and here we are.

Morbid math maybe

My life changed forever when he died. The timing was a part of that so everyday I notch an extra day of Dad/daughter time that I didn’t get to have with my own father.

I’m doing my best to erase an echo.

Everyday is more precious to me because it’s one more than I got to spend with my father. I’m unable to shake off this equation nor will I.

It’s a necessary awareness I’ll walk with until I can’t.

I’ll never know what it’s like to share big moments in my life with my father. Lord just grant me enough time to be there for as many moments as I can.

I’m crying up a storm right now.

Damn

I go offline in two days. The trip to the camera store was to allow me to find a good lens so my camera will fit in my pocket while I travel. The deliberation I’ve committed to learning this camera is a huge step for me. I’m one of those who buys something impulsively and then discards the item before trying to learn the intimacy of its contents. Or finding shortcuts to apply what I need at the time.

This camera is well out of my comfort zone. I’ve been watching the same tutorial on repeat over and over until things start to stick. Repetition is how I learn things. Until it becomes a muscle memory. I’m still a long way away but it’s beginning to stick.

Something told me to buy this camera. This is exact one. So I did. I need my trail markers to be better bargain hunters.

Oh well. I made my first camera “recipe” it’s a just another name for a filter but it was a big step for me. Understanding all the glossary terms. It’s important to me. At the end of the day it’s all about the lighting though. Photography is calling and I must go.

Went out to find some books for my trip. My intention is to read three depending on my circumstances of travel. As I’ve said before I don’t have an itinerary for this one. I’ll hike when I’m ready and or I’ll pluck my ass on a tailgate and listen to the crickets.

I bought two other things for the trip: a Fender harmonica and some sketching pencils. I used to sketch in my teens and I miss the feeling. Same with the harmonica. I bought one several years ago and it turned into a memory after I opened Southern. I’m not trying to be Bob Dylan I just want to harmonize on my tailgate and maybe draw a tree or two.

I’m anxious about this trip in a positive way.

That’s all

My trips are usually 9 days I’ve pushed this one to 12. It seemed to be the appropriate amount of time. Not sure why but it’s secured now.

The vibe is in the mail

I’m a million miles away in my head right now y’all. It’s a good vibe.

I’m prepacked which means I’ve got stations of gear and clothes all around the home in bug out mode. You ever pack for a 12 day vacation? Now add packing your home along with it. I’m going to forget something I always do. It’s exciting to pull up to a spot 1000 miles away from home and think “now where is my colostomy bag?”

Just some humor to see if you’re still reading..

Ok that’s probably a good stopping point

Later gators.

My parents had an old camper they kept in the yard of our old home in the 80’s. Our home sat in front to the left of a decent plot of land. Probably an acre with little outcrops of dilapidated buildings, old cars and random finds my stepfather would bring home. Tom liked to collect things. I imagine if he wasn’t driving back and forth from California to Piedmont on long truck hauls he might’ve had time to play with his things he’d bring home.

Man do I get that vibe.

I would go out in the yard and build things with his discarded finds or shoot my BB gun at them. We had a basketball goal at the very end of the property that sat in front of an old high grass covered corn row that usually stopped the basketball from getting away. Should it bounce over you’d sink into the soft dirt as you tried to climb over it. Weeds brushing my face as thorns dragged their nails down my legs. We had two old mercury comets that sat side by side in the backyard that I would practice kicking a football between the them. I had teenage dreams of being a place kicker that would carry me away to college to get the fuck out of Piedmont. I recall kicking about a 40 yarder right between the uprights in front of one my high school coaches during gym class that got an eyebrow raise and then I never got my college phone call.

We had an old camper that resided in our backyard. I’m not sure of it’s original intention I don’t think we ever took it camping. Tom had an off grid trailer located on his property in Westminster woods. I never liked that trailer or camping there but now I visualize a similar setup in my future. Small plot of land with a cabin or off grid storage container to have my own little getaway.

I’m tangenty today

The little camper looked exactly what you’d think a 70’s camper would look like. Retro colored lines down the side, corrugated aluminum, dented all to shit, heaving spring awning on the front where the dinette/ spare bed sat. It leaked like a sieve, I spent several of my hot morning summer days tarring the cracks or tying a lightweight tarp over it when the tar stopped tarring. I’m sure I’m still recovering from the mold I inhaled in there. Full size bed and bunk on the other side. One wall held the tiny press wood kitchenette with its retro colored counter top while the other housed a closet and a tiny bathroom that never worked and was never used.

The camper was my bedroom for one winter with my two brothers. We had a space heater that probably kept the camper from turning to ice. It was never warm in there I’d wake up with iced snot from sticking my head under the covers all night. My mom would walk out in the morning in her house coat and bang on the aluminum door to wake us up. I’d be the first one out. I’d grab a quilt and lie by the kerosene heater in the hallway to warm up while my mother made breakfast.

When people make the assumption that I came from money these are the first memories that pop into my head.

Man you have no fucking clue.

Once my brothers moved out the trailer was moved to the back of our yard and I had it all to myself during the summer. Our home was a hostel for siblings the population would fluctuate depending on who was currently unemployed or out of school. Often times it was just my mother and I and then two months later it would be 6 of us.

I’d have to say it was the summer after my father’s death that I started to sleep in the camper by myself so that puts me at 14. Adolescence was turning me into a teenager rapidly and I started sprouting my own independent wings. There was no such thing as privacy in that home the only doors with locks led to the outside. I would find all of Tom’s extension cords and tie them all together into one long 200 foot drop cord so I could power up the camper. The AC was ice cold, I’d throw a quilt over me while I read comics and shuffled cassette tapes in my jam box. I was often times depressed in Piedmont but for some reason I managed to escape from some of that in the camper.

Solitude suited me.

I was in need of some privacy.

I was happy in that camper

Literally a happy camper.

It would take a couple of more summers before the roof of that camper to finally give in and collapse. By that time I was driving and able to escape Piedmont in a different way. Once I got my license that camper was soon forgotten.

But

Man did it dig its fucking nails into my soul.

The camper was an escape from my childhood.

It planted the biggest of seeds

I went ten to twelve years before I camped again, in a tent off a random Colorado trail in the Rockies. A month long trip that changed the trajectory of my life. Real adult solitude. A two person tent I bought for that trip, nomadic lifestyle, resting my soul for what would be a long 25 plus years of chaos and drunken comas.

I’d put that memory to sleep once again for about two decades.

Reality always seems to stick its tongue out at me.

Then I bought my truck and insisted a camper be installed on it immediately back in 2019.

And here we are.

Life sometimes, ties your shoestrings for you.

Trail markers have followed me around my whole life. You sit still long enough you’ll remember them.

I’m tying this quickly to make a quick connection. It all leads up to this trip next week.

Summer nights in that old camper planted the seeds for my long transformation four decades later.

It jolted me again ten years later. I’d take almost a month off to acclimate with nature in Colorado. My first real solo camping experience. It was a calling.

Here I am again exactly 30 years later.

Same month.

That light in my head has been directing the show on this one. It planted the seed last year before I went to Michigan. Maybe it was on my trip I can’t recall.

Maybe it all builds up to this? I’m careful not to overdo the meaning of this trip. It’s not meant to be authored as a pilgrimage.

Let’s not overdo it.

But

That goddam light is shining and it keeps getting brighter this week. To the point of distraction.

I’m anxious.

I can feel a shift.

A connection separated by decades. Knotting those shoestrings together.

That’s all.

Peace.

I know absolutely nothing about the internet as far as how it actually works. “We’re gonna put this little thing in your home that’s going to let you access the entire world as long as it has a little thing like yours.”

You can download, stream or go live. Watch any movie you like, make your own to share, teleport emails and pics, talk face to face with someone 12,000 miles away instantly while driving your car.

You get the picture

How does it work Chad?

I’ve got absolutely no clue. Yeah I could Google it but I sort of like not knowing how some things work. It’s not ignorance is bliss thing for me it’s ignorance can be magical. For someone who created an entire fantasy world in their teens to escape from reality I can get down with that sort of thing. Probably had a lingering effect on why I tend to believe things others may not.

It’s enchanting.

It’s delightfully delusional and man I’m one of those that love to chase delusional dreams. There’s too much out there for you not to believe in a little magic the word would’ve never existed if the action didn’t exist.

Period

Chad do you believe in dragons? I’ve talked with a red dragon over campfire coals and slept atop a big blue one in Linville.

Dragons are somewhat lethargic and docile. Extremely intelligent.

Ethereal

“You’re crazy”

Maybe, I’d suggest you talk to one yourself and get back to me.

Psilocybin is amazing. This is just my personal experience y’all take it as you will. I often ask myself the originality of fairy tales. Now that’s something I’ll dig deep into.

Internet? Nah

I write often about my little hobby of sitting still.

Yes that’s a hobby of mine. Sitting in stillness.

Turn off all your gadgets, in fact put all your electronics as far away from you as you can and sit somewhere comfortably.

Turn off all the noise you can. I actually use headphones

Darken your room especially if you’re surrounded by LEDs or an eye mask I use one all the time in fact it’s sitting atop my head as I write this.

Just relax

Tell your body to relax. You can start at your toes and move your way up. Don’t lift a hair on your body just let it flow. If you have an itch you can scratch it.

Relax that jawline and let your tongue “float”.

Find a breathing pattern that works for you. I can’t assign that for you I feel everyone has their own comfortable pattern but for me it’s a slow inhale, hold for a bit and slow exhale and then I hold a moment more. It’s called box breathing. I use this often to settle me down.

It works. For me

Slowing down your breath without trying to inhale more air takes a little practice. I’ve got mine down to three breaths a minute before it breaks my concentration.

Just sit

Relax

Breath

I mean why not? Doesn’t cost a damn dime

Listen

Probably the first several times you’ll only get distracted by the silence.

Or you’ll get a cramp

Impatient

Fidgety

Restless

Your thoughts will be scattered or they may even focus on the one damn thing you aren’t trying to focus on.

This is why practice is important

Patience is crucial

Give yourself 20 minutes. Don’t do it after a triple shot venti coffee.

Don’t force it. Find an ideal time when you like to wind down. This isn’t nap time. Stay conscious to stay connected.

To what Chad?

Shhh

Focus

Sit and melt

And breathe

Wait for all the chatter to simmer. Your brain will eventually tire of it and leave you be.

Your attention span will follow suit. You can’t turn the thoughts off in your head

But

You can dim the volume until it’s a subtle whisper

Let go

Let it all go

Do this as a favorable routine. Make it a habit.

After a while you may start to feel more grounded with your body.

Your mind

Think of your brain as an Ethernet cable to the ether. Makes you wonder why they call it that sometimes.

I like to think of ether or aether as the ancient thinkers used to call it as the fifth element.

WiFi for the higher consciousness. Keep in mind ya’ll I’m a little out there now and will remain for the rest of my existence. I’m ok with that so when I’m chatting on here it’s not to convert. It’s just to share my little world with you.

When I meditate, thoughts come into play like downloads.

New thoughts or ideas. Like a wave of information that flows to be found.

Aether signals (stay with me)

This is where epiphanies can be found, hatched or grabbed.

Ideas, inventions, stories, passion for the new.

New lives can be found here

Fantasies that come true

Healing factors too

Try it. Get cozy, sit still for a bit. Give it a couple of weeks the signal may take a bit. Nature helps. It magnifies it.

Once you get used to it, start paying attention to the little things that flutter through your mind for the first time. Keep a journal of it.

“Why did that thought come up?”

Maybe it’s an old memory you haven’t thought of in years. There may be a message attached to it. A closure may be needed or a resurrection of that moment to bring you back to something you used to be.

A flutter of the future you. When you daydream visualize the ideal you. From head to toe and then from the inside out. How would it feel to be that person? When you meditate sometimes your mind will begin to curate that energy.

Aether connections

Listen, I believe in magic so take that as you will. I’ve witnessed it with my own soul.

I’m not trying to convert folks. Just encouraging you to sit a while and see what happens.

I believe in a WiFi for the soul. Ideas just floating in the aether to be grabbed, embraced and experienced. I’m in it all the time. Gonna spend some time in it later today maybe I’ll see you there?

Magic is what you make of it.

Just my opinion is all. Peace and dreams y’all

I sat on my sofa yesterday evening I had just returned home from a solo dinner at a local spot near my deli. I can’t tell you the last time I went out to eat on a Friday by myself. I usually avoid the weekend crowds for dinner I don’t like waiting to sit down.

I’m fidgety

I enjoyed my dinner I’m simple when it comes to food. As a cook, the less chaos for the guys in the back the better I feel about what I order. Give me a steak and some sort of potato and I’m good. I don’t eat fancy, I don’t cook fancy but I will if the situation calls for it.

Morning tangent once again

Returns to sofa setting

I sat on my sofa, full belly and all and I smiled. Solo smiles are the best man because you aren’t putting on a mask for someone or something else. A solid smile for no one else to see. It doesn’t matter it’s coming from the inside out and to me that’s a damn good smile.

I felt good. Real good.

The Deli was poop last week, slowest week or one of the slowest.

I didn’t blink once. Sure in my head my thoughts were reminding me that it was a slow week. I acknowledged it with a wink.

“Yeah inside guy (I call the chatterbox in my head the inside guy. He’s not me he just wants to control the direction my brain goes) I’ve noticed it’s been a slow week.“

Charterbox McGhee “ok just making sure you’re paying attention I know how much it bothers you when it’s slow”

Me- “yep and you’re always the first one to let me know. I got it from here”

Chatterbox *sticks bottom lip out and walks away

When it’s slow I’m usually walking around the deli moving things around. Now I sit in my office chair, take a breather and let go. It’s taken years for me to get here.

I’ve locked a lot of concept doors yall.

Anyway

Smiling on my sofa

I put my one occasional beer down 13 days ago. I kept that one beer around for comfort and to feel socially normal for 4.6 years.

That occasional beer became an everyday beer. Still just one it was always one

But

I started allowing the ABV to rise little by little.

Still one beer

And that one beer would light up my face at 5:40 every evening. My routine after work revolved around that one beer at that specific time.

And if I didn’t get it near that time man I got cranky. And I knew exactly why.

I wasn’t in control

I never buy more than one beer at a time it’s a daily purchase. My local gas station attendant only recognizes because of that one beer. Always the same beer unless it was a bad day then that ABV got pumped up a tad.

Why? Because the beer was in control of me. I didn’t like that

But

I continued with my purchase

I had to have that beer.

The only time I buy more than one beer is if I camp. Two nights two beers. I’m not worried about drinking both the same night because that would leave me beerless the next night.

Can’t have that now can we?

When I camp in Brevard overnight I’ll go to Oskar Blues for one beer and I’ll take a double cheeseburger back to camp with me. In my head it’s “I’ve earned this moment” I’m already making excuses as to why I’m having that beer.

“I haven’t been drunk in almost 5 years let a guy live a little”

Beer -“Hell yeah brother I’m here for you. Just one you’ll be fine”

A couple of weeks ago after a delicious burger and one digested draft beer I had remembered I still had one my go to beers in the fridge of my truck. I was feeling myself from a quiet day of creek sitting and a hike.

“What’s one more beer Chad?”

“You’ve earned this moment”

That’s the chatterbox

I opened that beer, poured it into a solo cup and took a sip.

Then I poured the beer in the dirt.

I sat on my tailgate in silence for a bit.

“You’re real close to losing control”

“Again”

That wasn’t my chatterbox speaking it was the other one I prefer to listen to. My trail marker has a voice. It poked me in the ribs.

Hard

I came back home and skipped my regular daily gas station.

13 days ago

Day three it felt like someone split my head with an axe.

I wasn’t done reckoning with the withdrawals from years ago.

One beer

One single fucking beer

I knew exactly what it was doing all along, I chose to ignore it.

And it almost got me.

Almost

But

No cigar

13 days ago I said once more “you’re not drinking again”, in the same exact mirror from almost 5 years ago.

And then I smiled

I went camping last week in the same exact spot where I spilled that beer by the creek. I went to the same brewery and walked up to the counter.

I stared at all the ABVs in chalk on the wall.

“What do you have in a non alcoholic beer?”

I took my order and sat at a long community by myself.

And I smiled

“You don’t get to control me anymore Chatterbox McGhee. I beat you on your own turf”

I had to know for myself that I could walk right up to my trigger’s face and tell it to fuck off.

And I did

And boy was it hard.

I went back to camp with my burger and sat on my tailgate

And I smiled

Still smiling.

I went out to eat by myself yesterday, sat down at the bar and ordered a non alcoholic beer. Ate my dinner and drove home.

As I was driving I asked myself “what’s the odometer reading?”

The other guy “12 days and counting”

I smiled and said outloud “12 days motherfucker, in two more it’ll be two weeks and I’m just getting started”

Chatterbox *silence

I returned home to my beer less fridge, put on my jammies

And smiled

Big trip coming up next week. Longest I’ve taken in 30 years, almost exactly to the day actually.

I’m unplugging

Shedding

Stripping

Surrendering

No rigid itinerary I’m pointing to a destination and heading that way.

No trailer to pull

No roof top tent to pop up in tight places.

I bought this camper specifically for this moment. To blend in with my surroundings. Nomading my way place to place. I may stay two days in one spot or plop all week. This trip is pure exploration and peace.

I bought a flip phone for emergency calls and texting work orders. I bought a Bluetooth cd player for music.

I’m filled with some excitable anxiety. Erasing some comfort zones. I’m gonna disappear into the void for a bit.

I plan on keeping my voice silent. My words will be chosen carefully. There will be uncomfortable moments of silence. Hard times with fasting.

Erasing some loops and patterns Velcro’d to my soul.

A side quest from my past reckoning.

A Cleanse

There will be no expectations other than the journey itself. All of my previous trips have built up to this one.

My plans?

Take the trip.

Follow the little light in my head

Read the trail markers

Adapt as intended

It’s not a find myself thing. I found him not so long ago.

It’s a curating.

I found him. Now I need to get to know him better. Quality time.

I want to look in the mirror when I get back and say “there he is!”

I’m excitedly terrified. If that makes sense. Like your first sky diving experience. No you’ll never catch me doing that shit.

I’m 8 days away man. I’ve talked about this trip for over a year. I have not made one single plan. As intended.

“Where you gonna go Chad?”

“What you gonna do Chad?”

I’ll tell you when I get back.

Maybe.

Cheers

“I’ve leveled myself out over the past couple of years” -Was my first thought this morning as I scrolled some of my Facebook memories. I don’t really scroll the feeds that much anymore and if I do it’s later in the day. I’ve made it a point not to doom scroll in the morning, my morning routine keeps me off my phone for the most part. I can’t tell you the last time I swiped off this app with a smile on my face.

One of my memories popped up that reminded me of a difficult day I was having two years ago. The deli had been opened for a week, that particular day had been a slow one, a real slow one. Small businesses like mine may not get the honey moon phase where you get your ass handed to you for a couple of months or so and then it settles in. At least mine didn’t. It opened with little fanfare and it scared the shit out of me.

My three months of construction, permitting, equipment purchasing and driving around the entire state for tile, marketplace purchases all the while still making charcuterie at the meadery to pay my bills had worn my nervous system thin.

I went a month past my deadline because of permits

Then of course Covid shut me back down

My main purveyor was getting some shitty press due to some liverwurst that dropped a half dozen people. I had their branding all over my deli.

I was sitting in my deli on that ridiculously uncomfortable fake chesterfield feeling sorry for myself. I had a notebook in my lap writing down some new forecast numbers for survival and realized I left one important equation out when I was updating the old one. My weekly deposit to myself. I sat on my sofa with an all too familiar “I can’t fail again I don’t have it in me”– and had a little breakdown.

I will pan back a little for a very brief bit here. I had a nasty head injury in my mid 30’s while riding my bike. Long story short I was already going through a bad time where I was questioning my place in life. I was riding my bike up in the Laurens area and while narrowly missing a head on collision with a large truck I hit a deep pothole and went head first into the pavement. Cracked my helmet in half. I don’t think I lost consciousness I can remember it all like it was an hour ago. I can’t tell you much about the following two or three weeks after. I recall going to a doctor a few days later? Emergency room? Clinic? Specialist? I’ve had dreams of sitting in a round ish control room with something on my head and someone telling me I waited too long to get checked out. Maybe even someone else telling me there’s not much they can do “brain injuries are still foreign to us” – that’s not verbatim. In fact none of this may have actually happened. I may have dreamed this. I was lying in bed last night and it started rerunning in my head. It’s done this before it comes and goes and I have no idea where I went to get my head checked out. I don’t recall paying any medical bills but I had some decent insurance. Don’t remember dealing with that either.

I had just gone through a breakup. I didn’t want to talk to anyone about my injury. Didn’t really have anyone to talk to about it. After I came home from my accident I passed out in my tub while getting ready for work and no called for an hour or so. That scared the shit out of my friends at work. Later that night I was so nauseous I couldn’t leave my bed and soiled it. I often wonder if a part of me actually died that night. Emotionally I hit bottom real bad. My motor skills suffered for a bit too. I can recall eating spaghetti and the noodles falling off my fork from my hands shaking.

I felt like I broke something that couldn’t be fixed.

For a really long time.

The following week I’d take a leave of absence from work for a month due to an emotional breakdown. Ive always had no doubt that my head injury caused it. I have no doubt it’s caused my emotional outbursts over time. My impulsive thoughts and behaviors. My loss of filtering.

I never tried to combat it until recently. I’d say I’ve made some progress over time. Donate my brain to science I don’t care but I’d like to think I’ve mended some brain matter from deliberation and devotion. I’ve done what the doctors didn’t even try to do.

I don’t talk about this much. It’s a day I didn’t like myself at every angle and level. It took a month plus for me to feel somewhat human and as I look back another almost 20 years to sort of fix.

I still get the feelings I’m just better at releasing them.

Most of the time.

Back to the deli. I had what was probably my last emotional outburst this day two years ago. The uncontrollable kind that is. I’ve had quite a few since then but it’s just my emotions needing exercise and that’s healthy. The one two years ago made me lock my doors an hour early and turn off my lights while I cried in my office.

I didn’t want to open a deli

I did it to survive

I forced a concept. I forced a menu and then I plopped myself right back into Stressville.

Population 1

My text to my wife “I don’t want to fail again”

This is a hard one for me. To write

But

I can feel the release.

All of this to say only this

I’ve gotten better.

I’ve leveled out.

My sandwich orders have dropped quite a bit, my market is completely gone. I told my wife before I opened “the charcuterie will take care of things regardless” and it has.

I walked into that vacant building terrified. Scared of failure.

Now?

Yesterday was a slow one. This whole month.

But

I don’t go home worried, mad or frustrated.

“Tomorrow is a new day”

Is my mantra.

My vibes ride high regardless

I haven’t quit caring it’s quite the opposite.

I surrendered.

I’ve had every goddamn thing in the world thrown at me and I’m still here.

My body feels good. My knees don’t hurt as much and I’ve managed to rehabilitate a rotator cuff that’s kept me from working out with weights for over a year and a half.

My brain feels better. My emotions get along with me better.

My perspective on struggle has changed quite a bit over the last few years.

It’s a molding of sorts. I get it now.

A strengthening to my reckoning.

I’m following the path, a fog is lifting.

Peace.

I’ve been out and about in the mountains just about every weekend since April. I may have taken two weeks off here and there in and between. I’m not camping next weekend I intend on taking a week off before my trip up north. I’ve found my comfort for the road has overtaken my focus on pretty much everything else.

Coherencing

My word of choice

I observe some of my auto modes that have become the norm without question over time.

Using my truck door as a stall as I stand buck naked under the trees to change

Brushing my teeth while pumping gas

Sink baths at gas stations

Mastering meals behind the steering wheel

Camp cooking mise en place.

Waking up to the birds singing

Insects trilling

Smelling like a campfire for a week no matter how hard you scrub

Configuring propane hoses, tanks, butane for little handheld burners

I do this without much thought three days. It’s become a permanent part of my routine when I’m camping.

I’m approaching a long trip in the New England states the next two weeks. I’m still configuring my itinerary and routes. I’m struggling a bit with this. Hitting multi states surrounded by high populated areas gets me on edge. I don’t care for heavy traffic and big cities and this takes me a through a few. I’ve got 11-12 days to navigate so I may go for the long stretch and hit hwy 1 most of the way up to Maine and then turn west ward towards the Adirondacks. Or the opposite. I think heading north and working my way down west may be the best option for me. I skimmed through some New England areas on my way down last time to get home this will be deliberately the opposite. I want to take in the small towns, coastal vibes. I want to stop at small pullover gas stations with small cafes attached. I’ve worn out enough highways in my lifetime. I’ve been to Maine once before but not the Adirondacks so I’d like to save them for last. Weather will have an impact too so now I must wait.

Went for an overnight stay in Brevard Sunday. The two night camping trips can be exhausting when I try to squeeze too much in two days.

Packing food

Hauling that 75 liter fridge into my truck

Shuffling batteries

Cookware

Shower accessories

On an overnighter like Brevard unless I’m planning a bike ride or a water adventure then all I have to do is bring a change of socks and roll out. I don’t cook I’ll pregame a non alcoholic beer and grab a burger from the Oskar blues brewery food truck for dinner. Bring it back to camp and sit on my tailgate. The only food I bring is an early evening candy bar of choice, usually a Milky Way and coffee which I forgot to pack this last time.

All I do up in that particular area of Pisgah is sit with my feet in the river or creek. The entrance to Pisgah has a some dispersed camping spots near the stables I’d say about 6-8 sites along the gravel road. All first com first serve there are no reservations for these spots so it’s a gamble when you drive up there. In my experience most people are leaving those sites by 11am- 1pm at the end of the weekend I’ve always managed to find a spot right after someone leaves. They are deeded spots for camping. You get a flat platform for tents and a fire ring. I’ll set my chair and my little side table in one of those spots to stake my spot. I’ll also tie a deer cam up in case I get some nosy neighbors. You get some interesting characters in that area. Some of those campers are transients with no homes or anything else. Semi homeless traveling or they move from area to area in for a week at a time because it’s free. Most seem harmless. On occasion my pistol pops out from under my shirt while setting up camp just to be safe. No I don’t go flashing my “piece” around for style points. My gun stays in a gun box 99.9% of the time.

But

If you look like a tweaker you’re going to get a good long look at it while I’m making myself at home. I’ve never had a single issue with one of these individuals I feel like they like to be left alone just as much as I do. It’s the non tweakers that will walk into your camp and talk your ear off.

If the spots are all filled like they were this Sunday I’ll evaluate the sites to see if anyone looks like they are packing up and take my chances. One older gentleman camping solo let me know he would be leaving no later than 1 so I pulled up at 1:15 to snatch the site. As per the norm the guy hadn’t left yet in fact he wasn’t even at the site. I pulled behind his plot and sat in the creek until he pulled up an hour later. He apologized and I was quick to tell him that he was under no obligation to work around my schedule.

“No worries or hurries my friend I’m just here to rest my feet in the creek”

He was a chatty guy most people are like that around me now I’ve just come to accept the fact that my RBF has slowly began to fade. I smile more than I frown now I need to work on that

Jk

Sorta

He had a dog with him he referred to as an American dingo. I’d never seen one before so I had to take his word for it. It was a well behaved mongrel that would fetch the rocks from the creek. Thick southern accent with the face matching Robin Williams when he played Popeye. Old broken tent in the corner by the trees. My new friend plopped a squat after I told him I wasn’t in a hurry. I should choose better words. We chatted by the creek for a short time. In four minutes of conversation I learned

His father was a bootlegger up yonder in those hills (he pointed northwest)

He was 68 and unemployed. He thought I was 32. I think he’s blind

He didn’t drink because of his father’s occupation but he liked to smoke pot. He even asked me for some.

He has a daughter who worries about him a lot.

He has stage four terminal cancer.

The last part I told me just as easy as he relayed the others to me. He was looking at creek when he announced it like he was looking back at his 68 years as the final chapter.

At peace

Smiling

Just a man and his dingo. And an office recliner he threw on top of his car without strapping it down.

He didn’t actually leave. He drove a quarter mile down the road and joined a friend of his at another plot.

He gave his spot to me. I didn’t realize this until I saw that office recliner sitting creek side the next morning.

I was grateful

I didn’t use the tent site next to my plot I didn’t need it. I chose not to build a fire that night I wanted to sit on my tailgate with my thoughts. Around 1am a passerby decided to adopt that spot right next to me and proceeded to chop some logs and start a fire.

Listen

It’s not my land. I didn’t pay for the spot

But

It’s marked as a camping spot by the forestry department. I claimed that spot for the day. That tent area is part of my home for the night. You don’t do that shit. It’s bad manners.

You also don’t chop wood at 1am 30 feet from someone sleeping. Start a fire right in my back window.

Waking me up with ignorance is frustrating. I’m on edge when I camp as anyone should be. I’m lying in my camper having a conversation with myself.

“Do I get up and have a conversation with a complete stranger at 1am in the dark woods?”

“Do I stick my head out of my camper and say a few things about mutual respect and camping etiquette and then leave myself exposed for the rest of the night?”

I have no way of assessing the situation without exposing myself to a possible confrontation with one person but maybe more. I have no intention of ever pulling my gun on anyone unless I’m about to empty all six hollow points into their center mass. So it would take a lot of commotion to get that to happen. Do I walk out of my truck with my pistol in my hand? Do I keep it under a blanket like some sort of Clint Eastwood western shawl ready to draw?

I’d like to go my entire life without ever having to pull a gun on someone.

That shouldn’t have to be a goal. I go camping to enjoy peace.

I kept still. I’ll give them a half hour to settle. And they did.

20 minutes later all was quiet.

She was up when I got up. A lady by herself. I left it all alone and pulled out of camp without a word. I imagine it’s not easy camping solo as a female.

But

Don’t stake someone else’s spot especially late in the evening. It’s dangerous. I’m a little more regulated in the woods than most.

When I woke up that morning I had already told myself a hike wasn’t going to happen. I was tired from the lack of sleep the night before and I forgot to bring coffee. I pulled up to the closest Starbucks in town and decided to sit and write a little on the patio.

The sunrise in the morning was amazing.

Before I wrote the first word in my morning journal my mind said “go climb that fucking mountain.” So I grabbed my coffee, drove back into Pisgah and climbed that mountain.

My 24 hours went as intended.

I’ve begun collecting hats recently. I started a few years back, got caught up in a much needed reckoning and came back to them.

I don’t have any specifications for what hat I buy. If it catches my fancy and looks good on my head I’ll buy it. I’ve come to enjoy the feeling of a cozy hat on my noggin.

The timing of the hat purchase is what makes it a good one for me you see I buy hats at specific times or for certain moments.

I always buy a new hat when I go on a long trip. I either buy one right before to be my ride or die hat for the long drive or one once I’ve arrived at my first destination.

The hats make memories with me.

They remind me of places I’ve traveled and take me back when I place them on my head.

Some hike up mountains

Some paddle on the lake with me

Others shade my face while I rest with my feet in a creek.

I’ve got a hat that hung out with me in Durango and another that sat on a bench with me watching the sunset at Key West.

Many hats have sat on my tailgate with me. Beanies too. Winter hats have their own soul and warmth that surrounds them. My beanies have welcomed many a cold evening sunsets.

Some smell like firewood while others have a touch of saltiness from the ocean air.

My favorite part is all my hats come with an alter ego

They all have their own air about them when I put one on.

My last trip to Utah I bought a flat brimmed hat with a stitched patch of a bearded Bigfoot, wearing a flannel shirt, holding a beer in his hairy hand. On the side of the brim it reads Moab. I bought it from a local shop in downtown on the first day we arrived after a grueling 31 hour drive. I wore this hat the entire trip. I still wear it almost daily. When I put it on my head for a brief moment I’m that Chad standing on the rim of Dead Horse Point watching what may have been the greatest sunrise of my life.

I bought a Run Amock hat the week I wore that hat the entire trip. When I walk around wearing it now I’m facing the great sleeping bear dunes in the upper peninsula, I’m enjoying a bike ride in Fishtown area or hiking lakeside along lake Superior.

I’ve got a straw hat I bought recently that I wear when I paddle. I love paddling that board man it makes my face sore from smiling. That hat rests on a bungee in the back of my camper. The lake flashes before my eyes when I see it. When I wear that hat I’m a lake guy, sitting in the middle of the lake with a coffee in hand, at peace.

I have a Greenville hat I wore on my cross country trip with my daughter. Sometimes when I wear that hat I’m hiking with my 11 year old in the Rockies, she’s all smiles so of course I am too. That hat will stay with me as long as my memory serves.

Some hats no longer serve me because they don’t fit me anymore.

Not my head just my style or the persona of the person where they once perched.

I’ve got a “drink local” that just doesn’t feel right anymore I bought my first trip to Utah.

A few old work hats that remind me of the old work Chad.

Some I’ve worn out over time as I’ve used them up as I was.

Some get lost in the moment of adventure. I lost a hat I specifically bought for my first trip to Maine. The wind on top of Katahdin blew it off my head. When I returned from my vacation I became unemployed.

Another I had for only a few hours. It fell off my head from passing out from exhaustion and heat during a concert in the Gulf. It was short lived. I think it was meant to be.

A lesson was learned that night.

Some get to ride along with me all the time. I’ve got a Carhartt beanie that’s seen a lot. We’ve shared sunrises, Rocky Mountain hikes, drunken tailgate nights and campfires. It filters my headphone playlists with me on cold nights. It sat in my roof top tent with me when I woke up in hunting island.

I like my hats/beanies

They store my adventures like a hard drive.

A crown of well earned stories of my life. Along with smiles for miles

I’m buying another one soon for my next story.

A new alter ego to reflect on.