Day 1--July 29, 2010
Burlington, WA to Sandpoint , ID
Yeah, they burn fossil fuel—about as much as a Prius, but unlike that battery-powered soup can, I am outdoors. I can smell it. I get cold, I get wet, I get hot, and sometimes I get scared. The sensations are remakably like the zen of a good climb or a stretch of whitewater paddling.
You have to be in the moment. If you are not—you get dead.
Maybe that’s why the smells are what you remember—the wet hay, the burnt forest, the roadkill deer, the fresh pitch from cut fir on the log truck in front. Your limbic brain, your reptilian brain, is fully awake, and that knows smells.
I cannot daydream, at least not about the coming show--the numbers, the business, the politics. All is suppressed while I am in the moment of boring a small hole in the air close to the ground, on a road that flows into the desert.