Month: September 2021

Pleasanton to San Jose (and forgetting my helmet, again!)

9/30/21

Well… on the road there are (many) ups, and then there are some downs.

I awoke this morning and enjoyed my Chinese food leftovers from last night, took a leisurely shower, and got everything prepped to leave. I did several “sweeps” of the house, as usual, to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything.

Nope, all looked good.

I put my rig together outside (it’s so much easier to load the trailer outside the door, rather than trying to waddle it out while fully loaded) and took off down the shady street into the beautiful clear late morning.

I had made it several miles down the road when it suddenly dawned on me: I’m not wearing my helmet.

What?? Where was it? How could I have forgotten it? (Again!) Did I leave it somewhere? When had I last seen it?

Should I try to go back, and search again? No, I’m sure I didn’t leave it at the house. Did I leave it at Chipotle? Argh, that’s even farther back away.

Then I remembered that my rear light was on it, too. Argh! I had been so happy and proud of myself when I discovered a nifty way of “doing” the rear light, back in the hotel on my first pass through Klamath Falls.

Now I was out on the road with an unprotected head, and missing that cool rear light, too. (I did eventually find the other light I thought I had lost, but it’s not a style that can attach to a helmet like that.)

What should I do?

I decided to let it go, and to press forward and buy another one (argh—memories of Tacoma) in Fremont, which was only about 13 miles away.

I did my best to enjoy the ride and the beautiful scenery, but I was kicking myself for leaving it behind (and still not even remembering where it could be) and for losing that cool rear-light setup.

I got to Fremont (which had some great bike infrastructure–see pics) and found a bike shop in the same shopping plaza as a little locally owned natural-foods store where I hoped to stock up on Clif bars. (As it turned out, they didn’t have any. Argh again.)

I went into the bike shop and quickly identified another simple, low-cost helmet. (Don’t worry, I wasn’t skimping on safety—all helmets have to meet safety standards before being approved for sale.) I wanted a white one, since it provides better visibility, but there were no more in stock in my size (same as in the Tacoma shop, as I recall) so I got a black one.

The employee who rang me up kindly let me use the employee restroom, which was a lifesaver since the natural-foods store had a prominent sign declaring no public restroom, and I was way overdue for a bathroom break.

As I rode away, I realized that this new helmet was not going to work with that same kind of rear light, either. I’m going to have to come up with a new configuration.

I was disappointed on a few levels, but really, in the grand scheme, this was a pretty minor problem. I made it to Fremont with my skull intact. I quickly found a bike shop, bought a new helmet that fits just fine, and got on my way.

(I eventually did remember where I had left the helmet: in a box in my host’s living room. The box had hidden it from my scanning eyes. Lesson learned: don’t store any belongings out of plain sight! I’ve even put the word out in the Buy Nothing Travelers’ Network, to see if by chance someone will be commuting from Pleasanton to San Jose in the morning, and might be willing to pick up and drop off the helmet for me. We’ll see… if not, I can let it go, or heck, even possibly get it in November, when I come back through the Bay Area.)

I found an all-vegan burger place in neighboring Newark for lunch, and enjoyed my meal outdoors.

After all that, I pressed on for the last three hours or so of the day to San Jose.

I admit that it was not the most scenic or relaxing of rides. I felt the dry desert landscape around me, and felt a bit like I was in a post-apocalyptic movie or dystopian novel. I could see why Californians yearn for rain (even as I, as a longtime Oregonian, have planned this trip largely to escape the rain for the season.)

I pedaled past the airport. I pedaled along major thoroughfares. I pedaled along a few car-free bike/ped paths, but some of them paralleled freeways, separated only by wire fences.

It’s not always bliss out there on the bike.

But, as the sun dropped a bit in the sky, I approached San Jose and found some shade in the bike lanes. I rode through several parks on a scenic bike path. When I got to San Jose, I even took a brief detour to see the downtown area (see pic) before continuing on to the suburb of Campbell, where my Warmshowers hosts for the next two nights live.

And once again, I received a warm reception. My host served me some homemade vegan pumpkin curry for dinner (yum!) and showed me the adorable tiny house in the backyard (see pic) where I’ll be sleeping.

I met their two fluffy cats, and put a load of laundry in the washer before heading out, along with the wife of the couple and their neighbor, to a local park where the husband was doing sound for a local concert-in-the-park event. We enjoyed the folk musicians (who sang, among other original and cover tunes, Joni Mitchell’s Big Yellow Taxi, which took me back to the “soundtrack” of the bus between Ashland and Klamath Falls the other day.)

When we returned, I retrieved my clean clothes from the dryer.

Tomorrow, we’re planning to visit at least one of two nearby Japanese gardens, and possibly also a “first Friday” street fair in downtown San Jose. We might even see a play!

What a range of experience in 24 hours.

This is my life now. Thanks for following along.

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Las Trampas Regional Wilderness

9/29/21

Another beautiful day here in California! Temps reached the low 80s, which felt just about right.

After a leisurely start to the day (including a “breakfast ride” to a nearby Chipotle) I had a wonderfully nourishing Zoom conversation with a Portland friend, and then met up with a local Pleasanton friend who I initially met, years ago, on Instagram, since we so enjoyed each other’s tree photography. She’s a fascinating and passionate person, and it was great to spend time together live, rather than just via text or phone.

We headed up to Las Trampas Regional Wilderness Park, about 17 miles north of where I’m staying. She does a lot of her tree and nature photography there.

I’ll let these photos speak for themselves, but suffice it to say that there was much beauty to be found in both the dry hills and the trees we walked among, along the dry creek bed. The sky was brilliant blue. Apparently in rainier seasons, these hills are much greener, but I found a powerful beauty in the seasonal dryness, too.

After the hike, my friend dropped me off at my local “home,” and soon afterward my host returned from work, and joined me for dinner at a nearby P.F. Chang’s, which is one chain restaurant I had long been curious to experience. I got a generous portion of the “Buddha’s feast,” so that I could take some home to have for breakfast tomorrow.

Then this evening, I got a phone call from another close friend in Oregon. One challenge I’ve been finding on this journey is how to stay meaningfully connected with close friends, since I have so little time for phone or video chats. But I’m finding that opportunities do present themselves, tucked in between all my outdoor, athletic, and local social activities.

It’s all working itself out. 

This is my life now.

At this moment, it’s time to rest up for my ride to San Jose tomorrow!

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Oakland to Pleasanton, and the Hayward Japanese Garden

9/28/21

Today I got back on the road, covering about 31 miles. I got a late-ish start, and there was some direct sun and elevation to be had as I traveled from Oakland to Pleasanton.

My wonderful Oakland host saw me off today (with the below pic she took of me) with some vegan chocolate chip cookies and banana bread she had baked. (Jessica, if you’re reading this, I enjoyed some of them this evening—yum!)

I headed out of Oakland on the route she suggested, going along a beautiful waterway on a designated bike path, after the industrial edges of Oakland.

Before too long, after another industrial stretch, I found myself heading into the small community of Hayward. I had heard about its Japanese garden, and had wanted to visit there my last time in the Bay Area, in September of 2019. The garden’s limited hours, and my very limited time, precluded that then, but I arrived today in time to enjoy its very rounded and green aesthetic. I enjoyed my time there.

Then I needed some fortifications and a rest stop, as well as a place to charge my phone, so I found my way to a nearby Chipotle. That journey took me across the freeway on a cool-looking bike-and-ped bridge.

After lunch, there were some hills to climb in the sun! (See the top pic.) Luckily the high temperature was in the low 70s, and the hills weren’t that steep; they were just long. I rested in almost every shady spot I could find, as cars sped past on the multi-lane highway. It felt safe enough, but admittedly not as pleasant as some of my other recent rides.

As the sun began to drop, I reached Pleasanton, which—true to its name—was filled with pleasant houses on wide, shady streets. The space felt welcoming.

As I climbed a few more short hills on the way to my new host’s apartment, I took in some beautiful near-sunset views of trees in the hilly fields. I believe that’s where I’ll be hiking with a friend tomorrow, and I’m looking forward to it.

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Oakland, Berkeley, and (OMG) Claremont Canyon

9/27/21

Wow. Today was breathtaking!

After a leisurely start to the day (including a wonderful phone call with a local friend of a Portland friend, and some delicious avocado toast prepared by my Warmshowers host) I set out on foot to explore my environs a bit.

First I headed up College Avenue, through the Rockridge neighborhood. I loved the aesthetic! The architecture, the street trees, the transportation infrastructure… no wonder people love this area. I moseyed along, soaking it all in, until I crossed over into Berkeley, and soon stopped into a local vegan bakery (Timeless Coffee Roasters and Bakery) for a decadent chocolate turtle, which I enjoyed a few minutes later on a shady curb.

Then it was time to scale some serious hills, and see some unbelievable views. I headed up Derby Street until I reached the entrance to Claremont Canyon.

I’ll let the photos speak for themselves: wow! (Of course, that shining city across the bay is San Francisco, lit from above like the Land of Oz.)

I got in a good workout by climbing those hills, and then walked back “home” in time to head out by bike with my host for dinner at a nearby Burmese restaurant. I tried some unique dishes, including a tea leaf salad! (Pictured, before we stirred it up as one does before consuming it.)

Before dinner, I marveled that I was seeing Facebook posts about heavy rains in Portland. It was their first real rain in months, and people were jubilant about breaking the summer drought. I was happy for the people and plants and land up there, but (not-so-secretly) also happy that I was avoiding the rain and chill I had so intentionally set out to escape on this journey.

No sooner had I said this out loud, however (and, ahem, made a Facebook post about it) when the clear, sunny Oakland skies suddenly turned dark, and a mist began to descend… which turned to a full-fledged rain as we pedaled to the restaurant.

Doh!!

At least I was wearing all non-cotton clothing, so by the end of the meal I was mostly dry, and after sitting inside at home for the next few hours (the rain having stopped falling during dinner) I am once again cozy and snug.

Tomorrow, I’m biking to Pleasanton, with plans to stop along the way at a vegan doughnut-and-gelato shop (yum!) as well as the Hayward Japanese Garden, which I had hoped to visit on my last trip to the Bay Area but had missed.

I’m loving this journey!

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Oakland!

9/26/21

I woke up early on the train, just as the sun was coming up, and a little after 8:00, I disembarked at Emeryville. I had intended to continue through to Jack London Square in Oakland, but then realized that Emeryville was actually closer to my host’s house, so I decided to get off there.

While putting my rig back together on the platform, I was approached by a couple in their 50s or early 60s:

“We tour on our Bromptons too! Is that one of those Dutch trailers?”

Wow, cool!

“Yes!”

“Oh, cool! We wanted to get one of those for this trip, but the distributor in Boulder was out of stock.”

Once again, I felt lucky for my timing: I had bought both the bike and the trailer before the COVID-related shortages hit. How differently this year would be unfolding for me right now if I hadn’t been able to get this trailer.

I asked if they were local Oaklanders.

“Oh, no! We’re from the DC area. I’m from Falls Church, and she’s from Alexandria.”

“Oh, wow… I grew up in Loudoun County!”

They expressed surprise, and the woman added, “I used to live in Ashburn!”

We all marveled at the small-world-ness of it all.

“Where are you from in Loudoun?” they asked.

“Waterford.”

I said it matter-of-factly, but expected to be met by blank stares; even people near Loudoun County aren’t always aware of that tiny historic hamlet.

“Oh, Waterford! What a great little town… we’ve done some great gravel bicycling out there!”

Wow. Small world indeed.

From there, I pedaled about a mile to my host’s charming tiny house, an ADU in the backyard of a classic house in a lovely old Oakland neighborhood. She and her two fluffy cats greeted me. After I got settled, her friend came over from across the street, and we all headed out on our bikes to the local Brompton-friendly bike shop, also about a mile away, because a small screw had worked its way out of my front fender and I wanted to get it repaired when I was still in a Brompton-friendly city. (There aren’t many authorized dealerships in the US.) The repair was quick and inexpensive, and we were on our way to a wonderful vegan soul-food restaurant, Souley Vegan, that I had visited once years ago and had always wanted to revisit. Along the way, I was thoroughly impressed by the extensive bicycle infrastructure in Oakland: miles of separated bikeways, and copious pavement markings.

The brunch was delicious. Afterward, they led me on a scenic route back to the neighborhood, where the lively annual block party was underway right in front of the house! We made a pitcher of margaritas and a batch of vegan chocolate chip cookies to contribute to the potluck spread, and then watched neighbors play ping-pong, volleyball, and various other games in the blocked-off street. I chatted with several neighbors—including one who was intrigued by my hybrid bike-and-train trip, and another who was deep-frying delicious falafel he had made from scratch—and later, I even got to jump in a bouncy house!

After the party, we felt very tired, so we’re calling it an early night tonight.

Tomorrow I hope to do some walking in a nature park, and then meet a friend for dinner at another nearby vegan restaurant.

But now, it’s time for sleep, with a big fluffy cat to keep me warm!

Do you have your own dream or project, and would like some support or collaborative brainstorming about it? Use the green “contact” button above to schedule a one-hour phone or video call with me!

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Klamath Falls and the OC&E Woods Line State Trail

9/25/21

What a wonderful 24 hours I had in Klamath Falls! I admit I had some stereotypes in mind going into it. (“This is a conservative rural town. I won’t have anything in common with the people here. It’s boring, with nothing to do.” Etc.)

What I found were wonderfully engaging (and not at all conservative) Warmshowers hosts (they even had a James Baldwin quote on the guest bathroom towel!); a brilliant and hilarious dinner guest of theirs from Tucson (but originally from Oklahoma, and he had that particular kind of regional wit to complement his uncanny physical resemblance to Marshall Rosenberg); an adorable rescue dog and six(!) resident rescue cats; a charming farmers market with decadent locally made vegan chocolate-espresso doughnuts and a woman there wearing a Doe Donuts T-shirt (“Go vegan. Stay vegan. Eat donuts.”); an all vegan Middle Eastern restaurant (though sadly it’s closed on Saturdays, so I missed it); impressive bicycle infrastructure, such as physically separated, two-way bike lanes on several major streets; and lengthy and beautiful dedicated bike paths both along the canal in town and heading south out of town into California.

My lesson: check your assumptions, Maren.

And, enjoy the fact that people and places can surprise you in delightful ways!

I spent most of today getting to the OC&E Woods Line trail, riding it, resting under a rare shady tree there, and then returning from it. The paved section is 7.6 miles long; the whole trail totals 109 miles. (I had heard about it from my Salem Warmshowers hosts. All these hosts offer such a wealth of knowledge!)

So, my round trip was about 15 miles, plus about five miles each way to and from my hosts’ house on the northern edge of town. The weather was perfect: sunny and low-80s temps. And the scenery felt distinctly different from that of northwestern Oregon. This is desert country.

When I returned from the ride, I was tickled, to say the least, to see that my host had set aside a gift for me from her neighbor’s tree: a large bag of Italian prune plums. (I hadn’t even told her my plum story! The fruit magic is following me.)

And now, I’m sitting in my berth on the southbound Coast Starlight. (I’m posting this later, since there is no WiFi on the train.) I boarded at 10 pm—after another brief kerfuffle with station agents as to whether or not I’d be able to load the trailer, but I did it again without issue, same as before—so my bed was already made up when I arrived. I see that since my last overnight train trip in 2019, Amtrak has upgraded their blankets. (Pretty fancy, eh?) They look warmer than those paper-thin ones they used to provide; I guess I’ll find out when I try to sleep tonight, through the chilly mountains of northern California.

So… it’s goodbye to Oregon, now, for the coming year. These past two weeks have shown me the untold and amazingly varied beauty of the state I’ve called home for the past 31 years. When I return, I’d like to prioritize exploring more of the state.

But now… California for the next week, and then the Southwest!

Do you have your own dream or project, and would like some support or collaborative brainstorming about it? Use the green “contact” button above to schedule a one-hour phone or video call with me!

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Want to support my vision financially? I am in the process of manifesting $50,000 in lieu of a “salary” for the year of this journey. You can make a one-time or monthly contribution, or even become a fairy godfunder! (Heartfelt thanks to all my patrons and supporters!)

Lithia Park beauty, then mountain beauty

9/24/21

Today was pretty simple: I woke up and had a leisurely morning at the hostel and the co-op, then checked out of my room at noon and headed over to Lithia Park again, where I spent the next four and a half hours literally just sitting and relaxing in the beauty of the day and the season. With my full rig with me (as well as bicycle riding not allowed in the park) and with temps climbing to 91, I didn’t feel inclined to do much physical activity. Luckily for me, near the entrance to the park were several beautiful, lush areas with benches from which to soak in the natural world and the present moment.

At about 4:30, I finally moseyed up toward the SOU campus, where I was to catch the bus back over the mountain to Klamath Falls.

I had yet a third driver this time, who also helped me to use the lift gate to get the rig on board.

He played classic and folk rock the whole way (nice!) and I once again relaxed and just enjoyed the incredible views out the bus window, as late afternoon turned to evening and the light continually shifted over the various scenery. What a feast for the eyes, including the lake as we got into town with very little light left.

After I exited the bus with all my belongings, I headed north in the dark for a couple of miles to meet my wonderful Warmshowers hosts, and an out-of-town friend of theirs who had arrived for dinner. The conversation was lively (and often hilarious) and covered a wide range of interesting topics. I love meeting new people this way!

This house is also home to a delightful menagerie of a rescue dog and six cats, so I was greeted and appreciated by a host of furry friends.

Time to sleep now. Tomorrow—my last day in Oregon—I’ll explore a 14-mile round trip on the paved portion of the OC & E Trail, a rails-to-trails project I heard about from my Salem Warmshowers hosts a couple of weeks ago. (Yes—I’ve been on this journey for two full weeks now! Time is flying, but I’m loving every minute.) And then tomorrow night, I’ll board the train to Oakland!

Do you have your own dream or project, and would like some support or collaborative brainstorming about it? Use the green “contact” button above to schedule a one-hour phone or video call with me!

Want to be notified of future blog posts? Use the green “sign up” button to subscribe!

Want to support my vision financially? I am in the process of manifesting $50,000 in lieu of a “salary” for the year of this journey. You can make a one-time or monthly contribution, or even become a fairy godfunder! (Heartfelt thanks to all my patrons and supporters!)

Ashland: The streets are paved in gold!

9/23/21

Maybe a year or so ago, I began a new practice, with the intention of living in a money-manifesting mindset.

When I was a child, I had learned from my mother that her father believed in always picking up pennies from the sidewalk. (“Some people think they are above picking up small change. Not me: every cent I get is a cent more than I had before!”)

I understood and appreciated the sentiment. I have happily picked up sidewalk change throughout my life. Besides, “See a penny, pick it up/All the day you’ll have good luck,” right?

But within the last year or so, I decided to shift my attitude toward change on the sidewalk. I decided to mentally note it, smile about its existence, and walk on, leaving it for someone else to enjoy and/or pick up. I do it with the trust that I don’t need to “pinch these pennies” because I am living a life of abundance. Now, when I see change on the sidewalk, I say out loud to myself, “The streets are paved in gold!” which always brings a smile of delight to my face. I imagine that I am walking through an enchanted land, living an enchanted life.

Since I’ve begun this practice—and especially since I dreamed up this bike journey a year ago—I’ve been amazed at how much sidewalk change I have encountered. In fact, just a few days before my departure from Portland, I saw a silver half-dollar! I was floored (when do you ever even see those, in any kind of circulation?) and I briefly considered making an exception and picking it up. I mean… a half-dollar!! I wouldn’t even spend it. I would carry it as a sort of talisman, to remind myself of the abundance in the world.

But… I didn’t. I realized that I already have many reminders of the abundance of the world, and I didn’t need to carry around a bulky coin. Besides, doing so would kind of violate the entire principle I’d chosen. Further, if I left it, someone else would get to marvel at seeing it on the sidewalk, and either enjoy taking it for themselves, or leave it for yet another person to appreciate.

Now, since I’ve been on the road, only one or two days of cycling have transpired in which I haven’t seen at least one coin on the road (often in the bike lane) if not two or three. It is kind of amazing how many “magical” coins there are out there, and I love enjoying them in this way; it reminds me that my needs are abundantly met, both on this journey and in general.

So.

Today in Ashland, after a delicious breakfast from the legendary co-op deli, I was on my way to meet a new friend for a walk in Lithia Park (sooo gorgeous!) when what should I see on the sidewalk but a $20 bill.

What??

The streets here in Ashland really are paved in gold!!

Once again, I briefly considered picking it up. I mean, $20! I could get a couple meals for that. As I’ve been buying food most days, a nagging voice in the back of my head has been saying, “You know, you don’t have a steady income anymore.”

That voice of fear played in my head for a few seconds as I beheld the note at my feet.

But then I thought, No! My needs will continue to be joyfully and abundantly met on this journey. And besides, whoever dropped that bill will probably return to find it. I would hate for them to have lost it permanently. Or, heck, someone else who really needs the money might come by. They could take it.

As these thoughts played in my head, a man walked past and glanced at the money, then at me: “It’s your lucky day!”

He was foregoing it too, encouraging me to take it.

I didn’t.

Another man walked by and saw me happily taking the photo of it, and misinterpreted my crouching action to mean that I had actually left that bill there as a random act of kindness. He was so happy to think that, he yelled, “That’s awesome! I’m going to get some money to add to it! Can I take a photo of you?” He moved toward his car to grab some money to add to the “pot.” When I explained the actual situation, he seemed mildly disappointed (and apparently decided not to add to it) but still found the scenario delightful, and crouched with his own phone to take a video, narrating that he had seen me walking by, and pointing the camera at me to illustrate, so I waved to his possible viewers. We smiled and waved and I walked on, tickled by the whole thing.

After I had walked just a few more steps, he called out to me, pointing at another man who had just walked out of the shop that faced the sidewalk: “It’s his! He dropped it!”

We all grinned as the original owner was reunited with his legal tender.

I walked on, and soon enjoyed a wonderful hike through the whole length of the park.

Afterward, I got another deli meal at the co-op, and then checked out another natural-food store in town, which I always enjoy. On the way there, I appreciated yet another dedicated bike path (I’m finding them in nearly every city, large and small) and passed a nestled cemetery bathed in glorious late-afternoon light.

On the way back, I marveled at the view of the sunlight hitting the hills outside of town. I found another neighborhood park, near the hostel, and relaxed there on a bench until the sun went down. A woman walked by and glanced at my Brompton, sitting upright on the path.

“Lock up your bike,” she said with a smile.

This confused me a bit, since the park was nearly empty and the bike was directly in front of me.

“In general, you mean?”

“Yes. My bike just got stolen from this park.”

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry! Wow…”

She smiled: “It’s okay! Everyone is reacting that way, but it’s really okay. I think I’ll get it back, because it’s an e-bike and it can only go about 30 miles on a charge. We’ve had a lot of joyride-type bike thefts in Ashland recently, and the bikes often get recovered. I’m out looking now, and I’ve told my friends and the police to keep an eye out.”

“Wow… okay, well, I hope you find it.”

“Me too, but you know what? If I don’t, it’s okay: my insurance will pay me for it and I’ll just get an even better one! I’m not worried.”

I liked her attitude. She was living from a place of trust that everything would work out.

Me too, these days; it’s another of the themes of my trip.

I told her about my journey, and handed her my card. (Park lady, if you’re reading this now, hi!) She loved the idea of my trip, and we talked about it for a few minutes before she continued on to search the park for the bike, and I hopped back on mine to head back to the hostel.

It’s going to be okay. The streets are paved in gold.

Do you have your own dream or project, and would like some support or collaborative brainstorming about it? Use the green “contact” button above to schedule a one-hour phone or video call with me!

Want to be notified of future blog posts? Use the green “sign up” button to subscribe!

Want to support my vision financially? I am in the process of manifesting $50,000 in lieu of a “salary” for the year of this journey. You can make a one-time or monthly contribution, or even become a fairy godfunder! (Heartfelt thanks to all my patrons and supporters!)

Williams to Ashland, via Grants Pass and Medford

9/22/21

I covered a lot of ground today, by bike and bus.

Late this morning, I said goodbye to my wonderful Williams host and the cozy comfort of my little “guest outbuilding” I had stayed in. (Yesterday I did nothing but lounge around on the property, and it was glorious!) I loaded up the trailer again, and began pedaling the 23 miles north to Grants Pass. When I arrived in town—my first time there—I found a lush, beautiful park, as well as an old-style natural-foods store (I love those!) where I picked up some deli food to take on the bus with me for our layover in Medford.

Once again, I managed to win over an initially unsmiling bus driver; he used the lift gate to help me load my rig onto the bus, and we started talking about my trip. (One thing I have gained a huge appreciation for on this trip so far is the Americans With Disabilities Act [ADA]. I came to realize early on that my trailer is the width of a standard wheelchair, and so every time I’m able to wheel it into the restroom at a public park or use a lift gate to load it onto a bus, I appreciate that infrastructure. I recently watched a wonderful documentary about the genesis of that law, which I highly recommend: Crip Camp.)

This bus was larger than the one I had taken the other day, and I was the only passenger on the way to Medford, so it felt like a very spacious private taxi, with USB outlets to charge my phone, too.

We arrived in Medford, and it was time for an hour-and-a-half layover. I had prepared for this: I left the trailer on the secured bus, but took the bike to zip around to no fewer than three local parks, to eat my lunch and enjoy some greenspace. Along the way, I encountered two men who marveled at my bike and my tour. One of them was a Greyhound employee at the station, who was amazed to watch me unfold the bike as I disembarked. At my suggestion, he went inside and immediately looked it up online. I love it when people get as excited about the Brompton as I do.

After the layover, we added two more passengers and continued to Ashland. As the driver helped me to unload the trailer, he wished me well on my journey, and said he hoped he’d see me again. (He might well, since I’ll be taking that exact bus back to Klamath Falls two days from now.)

I then bicycled to the hostel, and along the way, right in the middle of town along a busy street, I encountered two deer! Apparently that is not uncommon here. Definitely not something I’ve ever seen in Portland.

When I arrived at the hostel, I initially felt a bit put off and out of sorts by the remote check-in process, and this feeling was exacerbated when the owner (I didn’t realize she was the owner at the time) told me via text that I couldn’t take the bike and trailer into the building, since the property owners didn’t allow such things inside. These are my babies! I like to keep them indoors, and near me.

We said goodnight, and I felt so glad that I had ended up here at this hostel. (Consider staying here if you find yourself in Ashland!) And, not only do I have the private room that I booked, but no one else booked the dorm next door, so for tonight at least (not sure about tomorrow night) I have had the whole kitchen, living room, and bathroom of the suite all to myself It’s like a whole apartment, and feels luxurious!

However, I was surprised when the owner soon pulled up in her car. As we got to talking, we ended up hitting it off. (This is such a theme on this journey! One or both parties start out in a bad mood or somehow out of sorts, and then the magic of the journey kicks in and we both end up feeling energized and inspired by the end of the interaction.) She ended up telling me about her dreams and the challenges and obstacles in the way of them, but she sounded like she was on the right track to move ahead in the way that’s going to be best for her. I loved witnessing that, and I hope that all her dreams come true. Meanwhile, she was inspired by my trip.

Tomorrow, I’m looking forward to revisiting the legendary Ashland co-op and the breathtaking Lithia Park.

I’m so glad I decided to stop in Ashland after all.

Do you have your own dream or project, and would like some support or collaborative brainstorming about it? Use the green “contact” button above to schedule a one-hour phone or video call with me!

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A powerful revelation

9/21/21

This post is a bit of a departure from my other “trip posts” so far. I feel inclined to preface it somehow. Like… I don’t know if this will resonate with everyone. It may not be your cup of tea. Also, it doesn’t feel fully formed. I could wait until a later time to share it; maybe I could “polish” it more between now and then, or maybe I would have subsequent experiences that would render the story more complete, or well-rounded, or something.

But I’m choosing to share it now, because if there’s one thing I’ve learned on this trip so far, it’s that each day is full to bursting with experiences of all different kinds. I fear that if I waited, this one I’m writing about would end up getting relegated to the dustbin of “unfinished thoughts” in the back of my mind. And I feel drawn to share it with others.

So, here goes.

Yesterday at 11:40 am, on the bus from Klamath Falls to Medford, I received a text message from an unfamiliar number with a greater-Seattle area code:

“Hi, Maren. Are you interested in selling the property over there on [the street where my condo is] in Portland? This is Century21 Northwest.”

Ugh. Kinda invasive. How did they get my number? This real estate market is getting out of hand. Presumably this person was hoping I would sell to an investor.

My reply was short and unequivocal: “No”.

I trusted that would be the end of it.

An hour later, at 12:44 pm, I was enjoying my lunch in Medford before heading out on my bike, when another text arrived:

“Maren, if you were to get an offer on this property still at this point, would you still be willing to take it?”

Uh, what?

First of all, did I stutter? “No” is pretty clear, right? Second, what does that text even mean? “Still be willing to take [an offer]”?

I replied, “I am not interested in selling.”

Done and done, right?

I finished up my meal, and set a course for Williams. As you may recall from yesterday’s post, I soon found myself scaling a challenging hill. I had just enjoyed my “plum break” on the side of the road, and was girding myself for more climbing in the hot sun, when I pulled over for another rest.

Do you know what I saw?

This text:

“We have a pipeline of buyers who are prequalified and are registered in this area. What’s the best time to call, Maren?”

I was already out of breath and cursing the hill. When I saw this, my blood boiled.

Who is this guy? Who behaves like this? How is this acceptable in any possible universe? (Talk about the antithesis of enthusiastic consent.)

I had been polite. I had been firm. No matter.

Filled with rage at this violation of my clearly stated boundaries (as well as any reasonable person’s standard of human decency) I typed back “FUCK YOU” and hit send. I waited a few seconds to make sure it had sent, and then blocked the number.

Fueled by adrenaline, I hopped back on the bike to finish scaling the hill. As I pedaled, I marinated in a chemical dump of emotions and thoughts.

First, catharsis: I’m generally so mild-mannered and polite that I rarely talk back to anyone, let alone curse them out. It felt good!! (I mean, seriously, fuck that dude, right??)

Then a slight fear: What if that angered or activated him? He’s obviously not averse to predatory behavior. I’m sure it’s not the first time he’s received a response like that (it probably happens multiple times a day) but what if he thought it was funny that I got so upset, and decided to toy with me in some way, texting me from a different number, or finding some other way to harass me? Unlikely, I hoped, but I didn’t like thinking about it. If I had simply blocked the number without “outbursting” first, I wouldn’t have had to worry about that. (Although I did think the catharsis of responding the way I did was worth something, on its own merits.)

Setting aside the fear, I started to think about the situation on a larger, deeper scale. I thought about, and felt into, the energetic dynamics of the situation. Of boundary violations. Of “injuries” of any kind, to me or anyone else. Of unwanted energies coming toward us, as individual beings.

It happens. To all of us. What do we do with the unwanted energies?

The question reminded me of another recent time of philosophical pondering, on one of my “practice rides” for this trip, a month or so ago.

On that ride, I had also recently been the recipient of unwanted, toxic energy directed at me. It was bothering me, and as I pedaled my own energy through the miles of natural beauty, I arrived at what felt like some important wisdom. A framework within which to understand such dynamics.

What I thought of was that there is always energy moving about. (In the world, in the cosmos.) Some of this energy is obviously physical. Some is interpersonal. Both can be understood using similar ways of thinking.

At that time, I thought about some of the eastern philosophies I had first learned about in my high school philosophy class: that some energetic forces are destructive, while others are constructive.

I thought about how human beings—our minds, our emotions, our consciousness—can be seen as vessels for these different kinds of energies. In fact, I could imagine the two kinds of energies as almost (almost!) conscious in themselves. Like when people talk about “evil forces.” I don’t believe in the concepts of good and evil, on a basic level; I subscribe more to Marshall Rosenberg’s idea (though he would have been the first to admit that it was not his original idea) that what most people refer to as “good” or “evil” are simply examples of human beings either getting their human needs met, or not.

But I found myself open to thinking of “destructive energy” as a sort of entity of its own. And I could visualize it circling around human beings and looking for a “weak vessel” to inhabit. For example, someone who has not been able to sufficiently process or heal whatever human traumas they have experienced. (And since that describes all of us, at various times of our lives, that means we can all be the “weak vessel” at various times, allowing destructive behaviors to issue forth from ourselves, such as the text I sent before blocking the number. Different people spend different percentages of their time in such states.) Perhaps we can think of certain destructive energies as needing human hosts in order to carry out their nature.

This led me to think of the physics principle of the conservation of mass-energy. If there is a static amount of energy in the world (setting aside for the moment that matter and energy can swap places in existence at different times, since I don’t think that makes a measurable difference to the phenomenon I’m describing) then destructive energy could theoretically be transmuted into constructive energy, with conscious human help.

I thought first of a simplistic idea: “There are people in the world who operate from destructive energy, and those who operate from constructive energy. I want to be one of the latter.”

But then I thought a bit deeper, realizing how oversimplified that was. For one thing, as I mentioned above, individual people can operate from either kind of energy at different times.

For another thing, seeing my role in life as being one who is engaged in constructive energy didn’t feel quite right to me either. When I thought more about constructive energy, what came to my mind was mostly physical: people growing gardens, plants, trees, and such, or perhaps actively constructing sustainable dwellings or other structures, or even building entire intentional communities. These are the kinds of people I feel drawn toward, and wish to support with my own skills. Especially on this particular bicycle journey: that is the whole point of it!

And… then, what are my skills, and how do they fit within this framework I was beginning to envision?

My skills are those of space-holding, healing, and supporting transformation.

My life’s work is to work with people’s existing sources of energy, to witness and help them to heal from whatever injuries or traumas they have received, and help them to transmute that energy into something constructive, so that they can build something positive, for themselves and/or for the collective.

So. That was my thought process during my August ride. Now back to yesterday’s ride:

What was I to do with this unwanted energy that had just come toward me? What are any of us to do with these energies? They are certainly a renewable resource, because boundary violations and various anger triggers are unavoidable wherever human interactions can be found. Do we just unconsciously spew them back out, fighting back against the apparent “source” like I had just done, or toward others who seem like easy targets? Do we eschew those “spewing” behaviors out of politeness or propriety or fear, and instead simply soak in the toxicity, holding that energy within our own bodies until it harms us psychologically and/or physically?

Surely there must be a better way.

I suddenly thought of a new metaphor: a solar panel.

It collects “general” energy from the sun, and transforms it into photovoltaic electricity, to be used in a more targeted, intentional way.

I found myself in a warm wave of nostalgia with this mental imagery, as I reminisced on my teen years in the late 1980s, discovering the Real Goods catalog and learning that it was possible to live apart from the communal electric grid by using photovoltaics to power 12-volt DC versions of refrigerators, lights, and any number of other electric appliances. What a revelation! Creative, innovative, responsible technology. I remembered the images on those paper catalog pages—back before I had ever heard of the internet—of solar-powered cabins in remote northern California locales.

This in turn led me to warm thoughts of two upcoming visits on this tour: one with a friend in Ukiah, California, where the Real Goods company was founded and remains headquartered. It seemed so exotic to me at the time! But in a few weeks, I will be visiting there myself. The second visit is to another friend who lives in an off-grid cabin in northern California as well, near Mt. Shasta.

Wow.

I thought a bit more about my solar-panel analogy.

What if we could think of all unwanted incoming energy into our personal physical, mental, or emotional space as a resource to take in as “general energy” like sunlight, rather than experiencing it as targeted negative energy? And what if we could visualize storing up this energy into our metaphorical solar battery? Turning that unwanted kinetic energy into desirable potential energy for future, constructive use? (More flashbacks to my high school physics class.)

I liked it. This felt powerful to imagine. I smiled broadly to myself as I glided along, and marveled at what mental worlds are opened up by a bicycle on a beautiful open road.

This is why I’m doing this, isn’t it?

This is my life now.

And… just like that, I rounded a bend. Immediately to my right, my eyes beheld this image.

Wow.

Yeah.

Do you have your own dream or project, and would like some support or collaborative brainstorming about it? Use the green “contact” button above to schedule a one-hour phone or video call with me!

Want to be notified of future blog posts? Use the green “sign up” button to subscribe!

Want to support my vision financially? I am in the process of manifesting $50,000 in lieu of a “salary” for the year of this journey. You can make a one-time or monthly contribution, or even become a fairy godfunder! (Heartfelt thanks to all my patrons and supporters!)