B E S T road trip E V E R.

That was the B E S T road trip E V E R. Time of my life. A dream come true. Nearly 4000 miles in three weeks. I reconnected with old friends and made many new ones along the way. I explored the mountains, roamed the woods, and stared into the ocean for days on end. I came away with so many new experiences and new friendships. Yes, I am exhausted and reality is slapping me on the face. Still, it was ALL worth it! A big thank you to my superstar hosts and hostesses!!! Where would I be without you guys!?!? I am so grateful for the phone dates that kept me awake while driving, a healthy car, two bikes that remained safe on top of my car, perfect weather, and to everyone who made this road trip possible!!! 

This photo was taken on my final stretch of driving last night. Is it just me, or does the illuminated portion of the clouds form a heart? Is it a sign that I left my heart out west? Or is it a symbol representing how much I love the western part of this country?

PS: I plan to back blog a bit. I must write about the majestic Tetons, the mesmerizing Yellowstone geysers, and one of my favorite cities, Bozeman. So, stay tuned!!! <3

Steamboat Springs!!!

Lately, I’ve been having a love/hate relationship with biking. Most days I want to sell my road bike - I literally rode my fancy road bike twice in the past several months. Both my road bike and my commuter bike sit on top of my car collecting mosquitos as I drive across the country. They serve as car decoration more than anything else. I often use mantras to remember that I have bikes above me. Yes, I have a history of forgetting that a large object is on top of my car. Thus far, the mantras are working and my bikes have only been hit be a few hundred mosquitos and not a low hanging, large tree branch.

Needless to say, I had some ambivalence about biking in Steamboat Springs, in the mountains, in elevation. But once I hopped onto my bike, those feelings dissipated instantly. I was dancing on my pedals and not missing a beat.

Before I go on with this story, you may be wondering why I went a bit out of my way to Steamboat Springs. Well, it’s because my good friend Dennis was visiting his friends and my acquaintances, Kent and Katie. The USA Pro Challenge bike race was also rolling through town - a sight to see, for sure. I knew that Kent and Katie were cool, but after getting to know them a bit more, they became even cooler. Not only do they live deep in the woods in a beautiful log home one mile away from Strawberry Hot Springs (!!!), they are also bike masters. They just won the tandem category of a large mountain bike race, Leadville 100, on a titanium bike that they made! Checkout their website: Eriksen. I had the great honor of observing their top-notch customer service and seeing freshly made, beautiful bikes.

Okay, now back to dancing on my pedals. At first, Dennis and I were only going to watch the start of Day 2 Pro Challenge, however, we biked to the start and arrived an hour before start time. I wasn’t going to sit around for an hour to watch bikes leave the start corral. Also, everyone was talking about Rabbit Ears Pass – a large climb on the race course - even dogs were wearing bunny ears. My curiosity was aroused and after a bit of investigative work I decided that we must at least start riding up Rabbit Ears Pass. Dennis, hesitantly, agreed. So away we went.

The uneventful start

BMC leading the peloton 

I was buzzing on adrenaline after seeing pro racers warming up and stopping by the BMC bus to meet the amazing woman and BMC soigneur, Trudi. Bikers were everywhere, and once we started climbing, my spirit animal, the mountain goat, entered my body. I felt like I was climbing Col du Galibier, in the French Alps, all over again. I LOVE climbing hills. I just love it. Instantly, I latched on to a biker’s wheel and was part of a line of bikers. I love how focused I have to be on the tire in front of me, it forces me to be present. I also love being part of something bigger than myself. I was with a team of strangers, which elated my heart.

With little endurance under my belt and a low food supply, I had to let go of the little team that formed. I never summited Rabbit Ears Pass, but the experience of climbing a few miles on the pass was enough to content my heart. The old me would have pushed my body beyond its limits to reach the top. It was so refreshing to honor my body and its limits. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I still pushed it, but not like I use to push it. And I was still tired after, but the hot springs rejuvenated my muscles and aided my fatigue. 

After an amazing day of riding my bike, I'm so happy that I still have it. I won't make a rash decision on selling one of my bikes anytime soon. First, they must make it back to Minnesota in one piece. 

Highlights at Steamboat Springs:

Colorado Peach! Nom Nom Nom

Large Marmot crossing in front of me on a hike

Cowbells

LARGE shooting star at Strawberry Hot Springs

Sage + butter

Mountain goat spirit animal and an able body to climb mountains.

Biking down the mountain 40+ mph and leaving Dennis in the dust. ;)

Seeing my favorite dog, Hawk

Mediating deep in the woods, surrounded by aspens and evergreens

Hawk

The Crew!

Katie's cabin and garden

Bedroom view

Most days I'm just dandelion fluff in the wind. 

Well hello, Lake Tahoe

Yesterday I was sitting in a hot spring bath at Esalen, overlooking the ocean where puffs of air danced on the water, those being, I am told, from humpback whales. Today I just finished an evening swim in the clear, freshwaters of Lake Tahoe.

This life is something else, isn't it?

My time at Esalen was profound. When people ask of my experience, I pause to formulate sentences and nothing comes out of my mouth except for a few staggered words that don't make any sense. It's going to take time to digest my Esalen experience.

In the meantime, let me tell you about how I met my amazing friend and host, whose lovely dinning room table I am sitting at while typing this. Christine and I met on Good Friday of this year while hiking on one of my favorite coastal trails of all time, the Kalalau Trail in Kauai (Abel Tasman Track in New Zealand edges out the Kalalau trail, in my mind). I saw this woman ahead of me carrying a bright blue Wal-Mart pail, a bed spread, and the largest backpack I have ever seen on a woman's back. Since I was just out for an extended day hike, I was feeling as light as a feather. I said, "Gurl, give me that pail, what else can I carry, and what are you doing?" Christine was hiking the 11-mile trail to live at its end for several weeks. After miles of hiking together, I discovered that she needed the pail for its dual purpose of sealed storage and a place to sit. I will never judge a woman who carries a pail again.

We exchanged numbers when we departed ways. I didn't expect to see her again, but when I reached out months after our encounter she was en route to Portland in search of a potential community to call home. She stayed a night with me in Portland and after a bit more meandering, found a home in Lake Tahoe. I guess you could call our encounters serendipitous magic, but you might be getting sick of me calling everything magical these days.

This evening I swam on my back pretending I was a humpback whale until my fingers turned white. Is it a coincidence that I visited the two deepest freshwater lakes in the U.S. within weeks of each other and sandwiched between them was a visit to Esalen where we focused on the fifth chakra, whose associated color is blue?

Almost Homeless in Big Sur

My entire purpose of heading south before veering toward Minnesota is to attend a yoga workshop at Esalen in Big Sur, California. My perfect plan was to have a personal retreat at Esalen before my workshop started. Well, when they informed me that they were booked, everything else in Big Sur was booked. EVERYTHING. So I left Santa Cruz early on Friday morning hoping I would get a walk-in campsite. Nope. Booked with long waitlists. Fancy resorts? Booked. A ranch? Booked. My stomach started cramping as I went into fight or flight mode. What if I can't find somewhere to sleep for two nights? Do I hide somewhere? Find a beach? Rearrange my belongings to sleep in my Subaru? It was an unnerving feeling, yet I knew everything would be okay.

One nice state park ranger, after telling me I was number 12 on a waitlist for a few campsites, told me to check out Ventana Spa's campground. "They just reopened the campground this year, there will probably be room," he said. Ok, ok, I got this. Deep breath. NO VACANCY. Ahhhhhh!!!! Because Ventana is a private campground I knew that they would have more fenaggling room than a state park. I pulled my puppy-dog eyes out. Yes, I did it out of desperation. I told the camp manager that I'm homeless, I have an itty-bitty tent, I'm low maintenance, I'm a nice nurse from Minnesota, and so forth. He gave me long stare and told me to pull over. He went on his walkie talkie. "What do you think about someone camping in 37B tonight." A female voice spoke back, "It's up to you." Yes, Yes!!! A home! Jim, the amazing camp manager that gave me a home, explained that 37B was going to be a true campsite, but that it flooded a number of years ago. He said he would give it to me for half-price at $25. A steal! A room at the spa starts at $1000. And, you know what? My campsite is dreamy. It is everything I need and then some. I am in heaven surrounded by ancient redwoods.

My home!!!

Finding a home was a sigh of release. I could focus on other necessities in life, such as food. Since my campsite was so inexpensive and because I wanted to support Ventana for their generosity, I ate at their fancy restaurant overlooking the ocean. It. Was. Amazing. And when I was bumming around town earlier in the day getting ice, I discovered that singer/songwriter Laura Marling was playing at an intimate outdoor venue later in the evening. I know some of her songs and my life has been lacking live music, so it only seemed fitting to go. My fancy dinner and concert were a celebration of having a home and of my journey thus far. I've been feeling extra grateful lately. I'm living out a dream. I'm lavishing in solitude.

This life is really something else. It's magical.

A good morning hug. This beauty is 30ft from my campsite.

Sidenote/more magic:

Last night I went to Big Sur Taproom to write and read. Well, I didn't do either. Perhaps I needed some interactions with humans after spending a nice chunk of time in my own world. Perhaps that need led to a lovely evening in the company of two men, one being a camp attendant at Ventana, and the other being the producer and bass player of the band Grizzly Bear. Who knew that we would be talking about First Avenue in Minnesota (Grizzly Bear has a star there!), movies, hikes, and the best places to write. And who knew that I would unabashedly lose in the most serious game of Connect Four. We all came to the taproom alone. And although I wasn't expecting conversations to happen, I didn't turn them away. I delighted in them.

I've had numerous interactions like this on my travels. They come to me. They feed me. Most times, I'm slightly changed by them. I rarely exchange numbers or plan to see these people again. For me, it's allowing the experiences in and then letting them go. It's not wanting more than what the interactions give me. What they give me is enough. They are actually more than enough because I am never expecting them to walk into my life in the first place.

Harbin Hot Springs

I was skeptical about Harbin Hot Springs. Jen said that it is her favorite place on earth and that it is magical - the food, the hot springs, and the people. Whatever, I thought, it can't be that great. Harbin has restrictions - no meat, alcohol, smoking, and technology, to name a few. We didn't arrive at Harbin until 10:30 in the night due to forest fires blocking roads. My first impression of Harbin was that hot spring goers are bigger hippies than I am. I felt like I didn't fit in. I judged them. I undressed them. Oh. Wait. They already were. So then I took it a step further and undressed their minds.

It took about 15 hours for me to surrender my judgmental thoughts and to fall into the Harbin flow of yoga, sauna, hot HOT spring (112f), cold pool, repeat, repeat, repeat. They say this is one way to awaken your kundalini and honestly, I felt like I was levitating for a few moments in time. I was in purification bliss. Once I was in this flow I realized I am just like the hippies I was judging earlier. Soon I was having conversations about trees, travels, and what it means to be wild with yogis, Europeans, and hippies alike.

For me, being naked is not hiding who I am and not being ashamed of my body and what it reveals of my inner world. When I showed up like this it seemed to attract others with the same intentions. And although I initially resisted Jen's description of Harbin, it is indeed a magical place of acceptance and freedom.

The morning of my departure I hiked up to the Harbin tea house - an old wooden dome overlooking dry California landscape. A man was just leaving and said, "It's all yours." Yes. It was. And although I was alone, I walked into a thickness of prayers and intentions. There were small flags, old journals, alter gifts, and a spirit that felt like peace originated there. At that moment I knew I fit in. It was exactly where I needed to be.

Crater Lake

Thank you Mount Mazama for becoming a volcano some 7,000 years ago and collapsing into a caldera that now holds Crater Lake. Your waters are the deepest blue I have ever seen. Jen and I had a grand old time ohhhing and awwwing at your blueness. We even danced and sang to a "blue" playlist while driving around your boundaries.

Yes, I was stunned by Crater Lake's beauty. But do you want to know what else tickled my feathers? Well, a chance encounter, of course. Crater Lake is part of the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT). And if you know me, you know that I am fascinated by the PCT. I was telling Jen on our drive that I hope we can meet some true PCT hikers.

After a short run on trails surrounding Mazama Campground, I took a quick, cold, totally-not-worth-the-75-cents shower. On my way out I looked up. "Hey, I know you," I think I said that, yet maybe we just starred at each other for a bit. After fumbling on a few words, we figured it out. We met at a yin yoga class at People's Yoga in Portland, OR. We maybe said two sentences to each other after class. That was in February. And here we were on August 3rd of the same year. Matt is truly a "through" hiker that started hiking from the border of Mexico and California in March and is en route to Canada. His blog is inspiring. It's reality sprinkled with trail humor and gorgeous photos. I suggest checking it out: Forever In Noise. I mean, who would have known that I would talk to a PCT hiker that I met once at yoga? Like Matt said, two minutes on either side and we would've missed each other. So. Fucking. Cool. Cheers to Matt as he continues onward to Canada and cheers to the beautiful color of deep blue.

I'm honored to call this woman my friend.

Smoky skies and a checkered red and black flannel have their own element of beauty.

My Perch

I left Minneapolis for Portland with a pure knowing that I needed to go. There wasn't a clear explanation to that knowing, only a strong gravitational pull. I see why now. There was a community waiting to welcome me with open arms. A community that embraced my introvert side, which allowed me to see my inner world with clarity. As I'm packing to leave Portland, between tears and laughter and a near numbed-out state of mind to get me through this transition, I realize how little I need to be happy. Here's a photo of me on my favorite perch with my favorite coffee mug, sweater, and book of poems. I'm going to miss this reclusive sanctuary, but I'm certain I'll find many more throughout my travels. 

Photo is by my dear friend Jen. She's a rebel against social media, but that won't stop me from posting endless photos of her and her art (see: upcoming road trip). In May she was working on a project and needed portraits of women inhabiting their most natural environment. I was honored to be part of her work.