barrybob

I went up to Maple Falls with my boy Richardo for acouple days this past week. We visited his bro who lives out in the woods near Mt. Baker.

Beautiful country, beautiful people, first night we hang with a bunch of Rick's friends and jam out at a local open mic night. Next day we spent drinkin' beer, smokin' bowls, playing with the dog and takin' turns running the dirt bike up the logging roads that surround the place. After acouple of runs, Rick says "You should take it up past the gated road, it goes for miles, really cool look-outs, just stay on the main road ... you'll dig it."

So I take a puff, finish my beer (don't drink and dirt-bike kids, drugs are bad, blah, blah, blah) jump on the bike and off I go. I wipe out once, just after I get the bike under the gate. I should've took a cue that it was an ill-advised trip from the start and turned around and went back ... but I didn't ... I found the grip for the clutch (it had fallen off when I bit it), and got it restarted, and I'm flying up the mountain.

It was awesome, great view points, I go about a mile, maybe two up the road ... and then the engine starts to die. The bike itself is pretty beat up, its old, and it was having some trouble stayin' alive earlier in the day. I'm thinkin', just push start it and start heading back. After about 6 attempts, I realized that I had run out of gas.

Now the fun part begins ... I push the fuckin' bike up/down, up/down, up/down the hill, finally back to a spot where I can just coast down it. This takes me about an hour ... tired as hell, I jump on the bike and start coasting. I'm rolling down this hill at a pretty good clip, and I come to a Y in the road. I think to myself, "Left or Right", the turn approaches faster and faster, I slow down but not with enough room to make the left without sending myself and the bike out into the trees ... and I swear that as I was goin' up the hill I veered right ... so I try not to stop, keep my momentum going and speed right down the wrong way. Let the Spirit Journey begin ...

Everything, at the time, seemed the same, and I was sure I was on the right path. Then the road stopped going down hill, and I'm thinking that the gate will be on the next down swing, so I push the bike up not one, but two more lil' inclines, finally realizing that I can't push the bike any further.

I ditch the bike and continue walking ... the wrong way. I've been gone for two hours and my friend (tells me later) realizes that I've been gone for alot longer than I should've been, and he starts takin' his car up to the gate, walkin' up the hill alil bit and calling my name. For all he knows, I've wrecked the bike and am lying in a tree somewhere. He starts calling my cell, his bro, his friends, and getting really worried.

Around this time I swear I hear someone calling my name, but I was totally dissoriented so I didn't call back, I thought I was just hearing things. I'm thirsty as fuck, I'm drenched head to toe in sweat ... and now I start to get worried that I might have taken a wrong turn, but I'm determined to walk a lil' further the wrong way, just to make sure.

A Brown Eagle flew above me going the opposite direction, I asked him "So I'm going the wrong way eh?" and he did a circle and desended into the pines. I took it as a sign that I was indeed going the wrong direction, but still, I HAD to go a little further, cuz I swore that the gate HAD to be just around the next bend.

But it wasn't, and finally I had come to a bridge that I know didn't pass on the way up, so my suspicions confirmed that I've gone the wrong way and I start to truck my ass all the way back. At this point I've walked maybe two or three miles.

Throughout the journey I passed bear shit every once and awhile and saw some old tracks from deer, elk, and other creatures. I was carrying rocks just incase any bears jumped me ... like a rock would do any good. I almost lost my shit when grouse jumped from the side of the road twice.

I start worrying that I'm goin' become a fuckin' statistic ... I started to imagine the headlines: CITY BOY DIES ON LOGGING ROAD, FRIENDS WON'T ADMIT THEY KNEW HIM ... shit like that. It kept my spirits up, and I got my second wind, started jogging back up the way I came down. Reached the bike and was relieved that I hadn't get lost any more than I already was, and continued back to the original Y in the road where I turned the wrong way.

When I arrive back at the Y, I realise just how fuckin' dumb I'd been. I start down the hill, this time in the right direction, and reach the gate in about ten minutes. If I'd just stayed left, I would've had gotten back to the house in no time, but I went right, and added an hour and a half to my journey. Yea!

I walk my taggered ass back to the house and Rick is outside, chain smoking, and says "Where the fuck have you been?" I say "gas, ran out ... lost ... thirsty, water ..." and just walk up to the hose and start gulping it down. Next words out were " ... beer ... smoke ..."

We spend the next couple hours recounting the tale, laughing at my exspense, and finally his bro and his wife show up. We all have a good laugh, and Rick's bro says, "So where's the bike?" and I come to the stark realization that the "City Boy" who runs outta gas and leaves the bike up on the loggin' road, now needs to treck back up that fuckin' hill with a gas can in tow to retrive it.

Rick and I roll into town, get some gas and then proceed to stagger back up the hill in the rain. After about 20 minutes up the hill, we reach the Y, and then 5 minutes later we get to the bike, get it gassed, smoke a victory bowl and start heading back.

I'm riding a ten speed, and Rick's on the dirt bike. We reach the Y and I tell Rick to be careful, it's wet and we wouldn't want to brain ourselves going down the hill, especially after the epic adventure we've both been on ... and I start flying down the hill on the ten speed at top speed, with no regard for my own safety. Rick is back behind me, and on the way down, he blows the back tire of the dirt bike and almost sends it off into the trees. Luckily, he kept it under control. But he said that he was screaming and yelling for fear of god and the impending doom that wrecking the dirt bike at that speed would bring.

At the same moment, I am barreling down the hill and I feel absolutely redeemed ... it was pure freedom, the speed of the bike, my adrenaline, the rain and wind cooling me off, everything was in place, and I for the first time that evening was glad I had this adventure. Just then, huge elk or deer doe exploded out of the trees at a full gallup 10, maybe 15 yards away from me as I flew down the hill. It was as if we were racing. I chased it for about 30 to 50 yards as it ran down the logging road till it finally jumped out into the trees to my right and I heard it crashing through the rough.

I could'nt beleieve the size of it, nor comprehend it's speed and grace. It just took off, lauched itself out into the forrest ... what a magnifacant creature. I felt blessed, not only to be alive, not lost, nor hurt, but also because I was able to witness the beauty of a guiding eagle and the raw power and grace of a mammoth scared doe. The only thing that would've been better is if a coyote with the voice of Johnny Cash would came outta nowhere to be my guide, but Johnny's probably helping others out there that are a lil' more in need.

After we return the bike and catch some showers, I pull my LOST t-shirt, no lie, it's a shirt from a play and the image is hanzel and gretel peering into the wilderness, and we all have a good laugh. We finish the night with Salmon burgers, cold beers, whiskey and weed, passing out near midnight, and though I was still, my legs, heart, and mind were in a state of virtual motion and I couldn't stop smiling.

Here's to getting lost on the spirit journey.