Starving For Oxygen

Somewhere on the way up Bierstadt.

I  know it's been a hot minute since I posted last. Update: I'm still alive. I've stopped playing Pokemon Go. I believe I've regained my true identity. 

I'm allowed to mountain bike again. While I can't do any gnarly jumps or downhill tracks until next summer, Caleb and I have been out to Oil Well Flats to ride. I actually traded my mountain bike for a rifle. Not because I'm never going to ride again. That's preposterous. But I'd actually been trying to sell my old Gary Fisher for a while and, well, it's old and none of the real enthusiasts out here wanted that old hunk. But one of Caleb's friends rode it and wanted it, so he gave me a rifle. I don't even know what kind it is. 7mm WSM? We have another mountain bike I've been riding. It's a hard tail, but since I'm only allowed to ride easy trails right now, it's perfect for me. Over the winter Caleb is going to build me a new bike from the ground up so I'll have a sick new ride come next summer when I can rip again. I know he'll make sure to build a super capable bike, so my only request is that it looks cool.

In the mean time, we've taken up the cliche' hobby of climbing 14ers.

At the top of Mt. Sherman.

I'm not 100% sure why we got into this. I think it has to do with me not being able to do anything particularly fun. I couldn't ride, run, climb, or swim, so I took up hiking while Caleb was mountain biking. Then my doctor said I should start carrying a light pack around a few times a week to deal with the sensitivity over my collarbone where I had my surgery. So of course the only logical solution is to climb one of the fifty something mountains over 14,000 ft in the state of Colorado. I think those pain meds the doc gave me must have done permanent damage, cause I actually went through with this. Caleb and I loaded up and took the dogs to Mt. Sherman one weekend.

At the top of Bierstadt, starving for oxygen.

We summitted and I was happy to never do one again. But then Caleb did another one on his own. And I volunteered to do another with him the next weekend. I don't know why. I hated ever minute of going up. Except when we stopped and I got to eat watermelon candies we brought.. Then at the top, for some reason, I thought I was having fun. I think it had to do with the lack of oxygen. For someone who is used to having a healthy supply of oxygen in their lungs, it can make you a little loopy.. And sick. And delusional enough to think you're having fun. But the view is nice, so there's that. The best part though is always getting back to the truck. The dogs get in and pass out and we roll down all the windows, and, hoping they'll have enough energy to bite anyone who tries to steal our stuff, we leave them there. And go get margaritas and beer and the biggest cheat meal we can fit in out stomachs. Because we earned it.

We've only done two mountains so far, but weather

Handies Peak, Colorado. AKA, the baby Fitz Roy.

and mechanic issues on our new jeep permitting, we're going to do another this weekend. Probably Handies. Cause it looks beautiful. And it reminds me of a really tiny version of Mt. Fitz Roy in Patagonia. And while I don't necessarily want to climb Mt. Fitz Roy, I'm going to see it first hand one day. If I ever find myself in South America, I'm going to detour to go see it. I don't care if I'm in French Ghana and I have to hitch hike and figure out a way to make money the whole way. It's gonna happen, y'all.

Mt. Fitz Roy, Chile-Argentina border, Patagonia.

 Anyway. That's all I really have for now. I'll post again next time I pick up a new hobby, break a bone, or win the lottery.

Homesick

So, I've been back home from Leo and I's road trip a couple of weeks now. Once I got back I had some sort of upper respiratory infection for about a week. Physically, I am better; mentally, I am as homesick as they come. The problem is, I am home. With the exception of a couple of short stints in Alabama and Pittsburgh, I've lived here my entire life. I shouldn't feel homesick here (I could do with moving back to Pittsburgh, but Hellabama... No.). I'm not homesick for any place I am familiar with, I am homesick for the places I've never been. I'm homesick to see Igazu Falls on the border of Brazil and Argentina, for the Petra in Jordan, Plitvice Lakes in Croatia, the fjords of Norway, Angel Falls in Venezuela, the Matterhorn in Switzerland, Ha Long Bay in Vietnam, and the Great Wall of China. I am homesick for the world. I live in it, and yet I haven't seen it.


So I'm going to.


A while back I had planned to take a couple of months leave of absence from work to go backpack through Europe. That plan fell through when my leave wasn't approved, and I resigned to take a week long road trip in the US. The road trip only exacerbated the issue. I've never wanted to come home from vacation and return to work, but this time was different. Not only did I not want to come home and go to work, I didn't want to come home period. I didn't want to drive my own car, use my own shower, or sleep in my own bed. These are all things I always look forward to when coming home. Especially sleeping in my own bed. I am in love with my bed, we have a special bond. If I'm gone and someone else sleeps in it, I get jealous. It's bad. But this time all the usual comforts of home tasted like dirt. Since coming home, it's just felt like I've had the worst case of cotton mouth in the history of man. So I did the only logical thing I could do. I put in my notice at work and booked a one-way flight to Spain. I leave in six weeks.


While this sounds like a spur of the moment type of decision, it's actually been brewing for a long time. And by a long time, I mean that pretty much for as long as I can remember it's been my dream to just quit life and disappear to travel the world. Ideally, I would leave without telling anyone, and just share my stories upon my return. Seeing as how my family and a few friends would probably be worried about me, I decided to share my plan with them. I've been obsessed with this idea to the point that I literally carried my passport and $2,000 in my school bag throughout most of my college career. Nothing made me want to run away more than college did. Especially after I returned from Pittsburgh. The night that I watched The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, I told my best friend Juli that I was about to turn it on. She must have set an alarm for the length of the movie, because as soon as it was over, she called me. I was on my laptop, credit card in hand, looking for the cheapest international flight I could find. She knows me too well. It took her a little while, but she finally convinced me that it would be foolish for me to quit college in my last semester, and that it was about to be cold in Europe anyway (but it would have been warm in the Southern Hemisphere!!!). So I finished school. Probably a smart move.. Thanks for that, Juli.


But now here I am, a college graduate who has yet to move out of her parents house. I've become increasingly annoyed with my job. I love what I do, but it was only ever meant to be a stepping stone, and I've been firmly standing on it with both feet. That hasn't been sitting well with me. My options were to look for a real job and start my career, or follow what I've always wanted to do and travel the world. So, I bought a backpack and a couple other essentials. I've sold all of my big ticket items except for my bed (I just can't let it go!) and my car. I sent the final payment for my car and the title should be here next week. Once I get it, I'm going to sell my car as well. Then it'll be off to Europe!


***** Update *****
The Havok Journal was kind enough to feature this blog post on their website this past Tuesday. They are part of an up and coming company called Blackside Concepts that is dedicated to veterans issues, and they have some incredible and eclectic reading material on their site. They have started a "Travel Tuesday" portion to the Havok that will feature Leo's trip through South America. Check them out!