Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Just Wing It

I'm jonesing. It's October and I can feel the shitty weather coming (until ski season starts anyway). Working at the university of BC, September/October is a crazy time of year. What was once a tranquil summer time campus is now a hectic bustling bee hive. I need to get out; I'll do virtually anything - before I go insane.

It's a last minute thing. I have no real plans or destination. All I have is a bit of time on this particular weekend (although I have to be back for a dinner party that Sunday night). So I grab my bike, pack up my gear and leave early morning.

It's foggy and cold but I feel good. There are hardly any cars on the road as I quietly pedal to the ferries. The fog is surprisingly welcoming; it muffles all sounds. All I hear is the chain driving my gears and my tires whistling on the road.

On the other side, looking at my map, I'm still not sure where to go. I see a few roads that intrigue me; hmm... I wonder what's there? Pedaling slowly, following this road, my mind goes blank. Almost in a coma, legs spinning, I feel strangely absent. It kind of freaked me out once I got out of it, I wasn't to sure where I was anymore, so I had to take my map out. Luckily I was on the road, so it was easy to locate myself. If I had done that in the back country it could have been bad news. Turns out I rode 20 kms and never realized it. Wow, that was intense.

Now that I'm back on earth, I keep going. It's nice not having a preset route, you just wander, with no particular idea where to go. I'm looking around me but there's so much fog I can hardly see anything. I could be anywhere. My mind starts drifting again pretending I'm somewhere else in a far distant land. I feel kind of silly and juvenile thinking about it now but it was kind of fun drifting away like that.

I get to a small village and stop there to eat lunch and buy some provisions for the evening. It's there where I talk to a few people and ask them if there's a good place to set up camp for the night. After a few suggestions, I decide to go nearby to a small lake 15 kms away.

Around 45 minutes later I arrive at the lake. It's a beautiful ride on a gravel road covered with leaves. Once at the camp ground (which is closed for the season) I ride a bit around the lake trails to see if I can find a more secluded spot to set up camp. Unfortunately I find nothing, but the trails are fun and flowy with nice views of the lake. I spot some fish - next time I'm bringing my fly rod.

Back at the camp ground I set up my tent quickly, as it's getting late. I prepare supper and hit the sleeping bag early while reading the latest issue of Bike Mag. Next morning, I pack up my wet tent early for the ride back home. I'm craving a big breakfast, so I stop for bacon and eggs. I still have a bit of time, I'm riding much faster than yesterday . I'm so hungry, as soon as the waitress puts the plate down, and even though I was telling myself to take a picture for the blog, I'm already in it. That was GOOD!

I'm happy I did this. Some of you may remember a post I did a few weeks back called Wake up. That clip kind of shook me up a little bit and it's pretty much what happened to me on this trip; one of the reasons I wanted to do it (well sort of). It wasn't all that exciting. Actually, it was kind of pointless, which was the point. Doing something just to do something. I like that. I came to the realization that I should stop pondering about what to do so much, where to go and most importantly I should stop talking about it. I should wing it like that more often. What's the worst that can happen? I may regret it sometimes I guess, but at the very least, I'll remember and that's a good thing.

1 comment:

  1. The workpiece is the inside portion of the metallic stock whereas the outer is discarded as scrap. Cutting involves the elimination or separation of unwanted materials from the main workpiece or product. These best travel underwear unwanted supplies are within the form of metallic chips and scraps which might be} collected and recycled.