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| all of the writings that follow on this page are memories of the trip and will continue to grow as time goes on. |
| july 29th |
I woke up this morning, tended the garden and started to make work for BLK/MRKT. Two large cups of french press and some Bright Eyes. I came around to a feeling of property and being stationary. It was a pretty wonderful moment to be sitting on the hardwood floor, in the sun, painting in my own house. It seemed at that moment - that was all I wanted. I would be okay to do that everyday - and maybe meander down to a mountain stream for a noon-time swim and to watch the little things taking place.
When I was living out of my car, going from town to town, without knowing where I was going or where things were... there was a sense of freedom and discovery. Each moment was a new moment and I knew I was never going back. That made it important to me. There was always a desire to stop, pull off the road, and experience the space closer... but maybe there was a truck behind me, or maybe I had stopped 5 times already and I needed to be moving on. |
| July 29th |
after putting in 1000 miles I would stop but my body would still be humming from the road. I stopped in Bellingham and went to the co-op to get some coffee and ask about a place to stay... and I was angry that the co-op was so loud and what the hell was that vibrating through the floor? It took me about a half hour to realize it was me. I was still moving. At the time I thought it was like when we are born... maybe we feel the spin of the world and then we just get used to it. I wonder if astronauts, when they leave the earth, still feel the spin. I felt the road for hours after I was on it. It scared me. |
| July 30th |
Pender Island. I work up when the sun rose, because I had slept in my car. It was not a comfortable sleep due to all the artwork and supplies taking up the bulk of the space. It also got very cold at night and I woke up several times with my neck, foot, arms in really uncomfortable positions. So, instead of prolong this troubling event, I decided to go to town to get a coffee and see if I could up load some photos. The drive to town was beautiful. Of course, I got lost several times, taking bridges over bays, passing the post-man over and over again (who I met later on the ferry back to Vancouver... and commented that I was up pretty early and he had seen me all over the island) and stopping for all the deer that are not even phased by humans in big metal machines. The coffee shop/bakery was not open and the gas station was just starting to open. So, I went out to take some photos. Sheep farms, quiet bays, grassy driveways, unique flowers, deer, fields of tall grass - View here. Pender Is. was pretty great until all the people started coming out. Big Surprise ... huh. It was like a resort town. The polo shirts were a plenty and the "charles, Charles.... we should really think about the slate from this lovely little shop -- for the walk. Don't you think?" was everywhere. I left to find the Woodpile People, or Ben, but they were camping somewhere. I was able to talk to Angela, one of the people in charge of Island's Fold, and that was nice. I ended up getting a bunch of books for my students. After that I headed to catch the ferry back to Victoria and listened to the White Stripes in the car, thanks to Todd, and did a little drawing. |
| July 31st |
Today In MPLS I stopped in at this coffee spot called BEAT. They serve only french press coffee, which is unique for MPLS. I thought it was really great that so many places in Seattle offered it. I would get coffee every morning at a place called Caffe Fiore, which played the worst music but made the greatest coffee. The Ballard neighborhood of Seattle was full of small shops and eating establishments. It was a microcosm. Everything one needed was there along the street. I don't know of another place like that -- maybe Madison's State Street about ten years ago, but even that falls short on the history end. Ballard, I was told is on the historic registry. So, everything there must stay the same and anything new has to comply to the codes that were established. Why can't every city do this... I guess there has to be something there in the first place. In short, this little walk every morning, to get coffee, is something I miss... and at least when I go out to get coffee in MPLS I can get french press now. |
| July 31st |
I arrived at Sheridan WY without knowing what it was. Someone said, "You could probably make it to Sheridan if you drive real hard." So, I did - and I did. A normal town had maybe one or two motels to choose from . Sheridan had about 9 on the first road. I stopped at each one asking about the price. $85, $75, $75, $85... something was going on here that I was not aware of... just as I was thinking that a large sign stuck me with the answer. Hanging from the Best Western "Welcome to Sheridan #1 Western Town in America!" Ahhhhhh.. So that would explain the Motel that, instead of informing people about amenities they offered - decided to put on their sign "Owned and Operated by Americans." I took a room at the Alamo Motel owned and operated by someone from Pakistan. Where were those AMERICAN'S originally from and how did they get here...? And when did AMERICAN become something other than EVERYTHING? |
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