How could a full time traveler not get spoiled and fickle; how could he ever adjust to doing the same thing twice? Those were the doubts I had when getting off the road about three years ago. But I had a secret weapon: the Granny J Principle. That is, I would now look at "routine" things more carefully and closely, instead of relying on sheer visual novelty. A mind can be like a camera that takes a macro closeup of interesting details, instead of a pan-opticon of ever-changing landscapes.
For instance how does one go on the best bicycle route in the area, time after time, and still make it into a memorable outdoor experience, instead of just a routine exercise drill? Around here cyclists ride uphill into the ponderosas in the summertime, not just to cool off, but because it's a narrow, windy mountain road with a low speed limit.
One day I noticed how unusual the last mile is: the route follows a (normally dry) stream up to the Continental Divide. The normal pattern is to become steeper, rockier, and narrower as you ride or walk them to their source, whereas wide, green, alluvial flats are many miles downstream.
But there was a small alluvial flat up here, on the last mile, where there shouldn't be. Perhaps it seemed so striking because it reminded me of something. It was almost cute.
Who first used the metaphor for Time as a Flowing River? Think of famous old songs, such as Hammerstein & Kern's "Old Man River", etc. But in this metaphor water and time flow in one direction, of course. I was bicycling uphill when this little alluvial valley impressed me. Time seemed to run backwards.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I keep knocking off maintenance projects, preparing to get the van and travel trailer out of mothballs in the dry dock, and back on the road. The dogs are delighted by all this. The joy of sticking their heads out the window in a moving vehicle! How they love to ride around in the van, especially if I stop in at McDonalds for a 99 cent goodie.
Now that the little poodle is over 16, 95% deaf, and 80% blind, it was strange watching him react to the van. Initially he was scared of it. But after a couple tries, old memories and patterns came back to him. He crawled onto my lap, which is not a safe place for the driver or his dog; but I let him because we used to migrate all the way through Nevada on US-93 like that.
His legs and hips are still in great shape; he wanted to enter and exit the van with the same frantic scurrying of his youth. Once, the poor little old man catapulted out of the van and did a face-plant into the gravel, because of his poor vision.
I don't mind admitting that this almost brought tears to my eyes. I hope these last few months of trips in the old van are as kind and gentle to him as the Last Green Mile on that bicycle ride up to the Divide.
For instance how does one go on the best bicycle route in the area, time after time, and still make it into a memorable outdoor experience, instead of just a routine exercise drill? Around here cyclists ride uphill into the ponderosas in the summertime, not just to cool off, but because it's a narrow, windy mountain road with a low speed limit.
One day I noticed how unusual the last mile is: the route follows a (normally dry) stream up to the Continental Divide. The normal pattern is to become steeper, rockier, and narrower as you ride or walk them to their source, whereas wide, green, alluvial flats are many miles downstream.
But there was a small alluvial flat up here, on the last mile, where there shouldn't be. Perhaps it seemed so striking because it reminded me of something. It was almost cute.
Who first used the metaphor for Time as a Flowing River? Think of famous old songs, such as Hammerstein & Kern's "Old Man River", etc. But in this metaphor water and time flow in one direction, of course. I was bicycling uphill when this little alluvial valley impressed me. Time seemed to run backwards.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I keep knocking off maintenance projects, preparing to get the van and travel trailer out of mothballs in the dry dock, and back on the road. The dogs are delighted by all this. The joy of sticking their heads out the window in a moving vehicle! How they love to ride around in the van, especially if I stop in at McDonalds for a 99 cent goodie.
Now that the little poodle is over 16, 95% deaf, and 80% blind, it was strange watching him react to the van. Initially he was scared of it. But after a couple tries, old memories and patterns came back to him. He crawled onto my lap, which is not a safe place for the driver or his dog; but I let him because we used to migrate all the way through Nevada on US-93 like that.
His legs and hips are still in great shape; he wanted to enter and exit the van with the same frantic scurrying of his youth. Once, the poor little old man catapulted out of the van and did a face-plant into the gravel, because of his poor vision.
I don't mind admitting that this almost brought tears to my eyes. I hope these last few months of trips in the old van are as kind and gentle to him as the Last Green Mile on that bicycle ride up to the Divide.
Comments
Where are you heading when the wheels begin to roll? The month of August is a good time in Silverton, Co. Lots going on. Cheap, camping nearby. Then there is Eagle's Nest in NM.
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