Satisfying wanderlust in Death Valley National Park

For my part, I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel's sake. The great affair is to move. - Robert Louis Stevenson

When someone asks me why I traveled somewhere, my answer is usually the same vague, oversimplified question in response: why not?

I recently completed a 1,200-mile road trip to Death Valley National Park for the sole reason of satisfying my inner (chronic) wanderlust. I had originally thought something about the desert was calling me there because I had been thinking about it since June, but it was simply the desire to travel; The need to explore a new place on a long, solo road trip was overwhelming.

Golden Canyon offers a short three-mile round trip hike.

It's amazing how much a solo road trip makes me happy, how much I enjoy camping out of my car under the light of a full moon, of being outside of cell phone coverage in complete silence and going a few days between showers, accumulating the stink of cattle, dogs, sand and sweat. This is essentially a story of how a regular dude travels, as all of you already know.. I didn't pay for accommodation and spent very little on food (a big thanks to my friends and family down there in Tulare County).

According to legend, Death Valley got its name in the winter of 1849 when a group of pioneers climbed out of Panamint Valley, turned around while standing on top of the overlooking mountain and said, "Goodbye, Death Valley." One member of the group had already passed away there.

Earth is home to many hot places, but Death Valley holds the record for hottest temperature ever recorded, at 134 degrees in 1913 at Furnace Creek. I drove through Furnace Creek during my visit, and it's a small oasis surrounded by desolate, barren and rocky terrain. It's as if the environment is constantly baked under extreme temperatures in the summer and melts in the withering heat. As a result, only rock, sand and a few wispy shrubs exist in the hottest areas.

Close to Furnace Creek, home of the hottest temperature ever recorded on Earth.

There is a park entrance fee of $20 and various signs along major roads point to where visitors can pay this fee. But upon my short time in the park, it seems to be based on an honor system because at no time was I specifically asked to pay the fee or actually stop the car to pay it.

The park consists of several mountain ranges and valleys, but Death Valley itself boasts the lowest point in elevation in the Western Hemisphere: 282 feet below sea level at Badwater Basin. This is a massive salt flat which got its name when an explorer riding a donkey couldn't get his animal to drink the water in the small, murky ditch near the edge of the mountain overlooking the plain. He wrote about the "bad water" and the name had stuck to the area.

Above the parking lot and along the reddish-brown rocky cliffside sits a large sign that reads "sea level." I had arrived at this parking lot at Badwater Basin at 5 a.m. and found solitude reading the information signs under the moonlight and light of my tactical flashlight.

The salt in Badwater forms in different shapes, and there is so much of it that the ground looks as if there is a layer of snow. It tastes exactly like the table salt all of us use to season our food at home, and it literally crunches under foot. The salt forms when water rushes down the barren mountainous slopes in flash floods and brings different minerals with it; it's the perfect environment for these salt crystals to grow.

Veins of salt snake around endlessly in Badwater Basin.

Shortly after I arrived, a small group of photographers showed up clutching tripods and cameras presumably to shoot the quickly approaching sunrise over the mountains and salt flat; I eventually followed with my own equipment, thinking that this had to be a convenient coincidence.

During my trek into the basin the sun began to provide light, and I was fortunate enough to see plenty of cloud formations which provided stunning displays of pink, red and purple; it was like the morning sun set the clouds on fire. I was lucky enough to witness this scene in a spot such as this, and was thrilled with the opportunity; the show did not disappoint.

Badwater Basin is a good place for a sunrise photoshoot.

I spent only one night in the park after witnessing the sunset from the Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes. After hiking out of the sand pit in twilight, I drove on into the night. 

Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes provided a nice setting for an evening meal and show.

Having driven for only about 10 minutes, I came across a dirt road leading to Salt Creek where I parked by myself for the night. Salt Creek is a small stream system which flows into the valley floor from the mountains and like most other water sources in the desert, the water is salty. There is a boardwalk which leads visitors on a half-mile loop throughout the creek and provides information about the area. 

I had the boardwalk to myself in the middle of the night under the light of the full moon. Along with the gentle trickle of water and the groan of the boards under my footsteps, I found myself in total silence in the cool darkness. I took that time to focus on my breathing and enjoy being at that place at that moment. 

The desert is so beautiful, and yet there's something sad, melancholy and lonely about it. The word "beautiful" is a bit vague and highly subjective, but perhaps I enjoyed the desert so much because it reflected my inner feelings since I returned from France.

But this is another reminder that the act of travel truly makes me happy. I get my inspiration to write from travel, and operating a camera is much more enjoyable while on the road. Travel (and perhaps riding motorcycles) is the one thing I must be able to do in my life.

Shall I become a truck driver then?

Island hopping in Oslo, vibrant sunsets and a happy country

27/3 - How does one describe Oslo and the country of Norway?

According to the World Happiness Report, Norway replaced Denmark at the top of the list this year, closely followed by Iceland and Switzerland. Some of the things that made these Scandinavians so happy were their caring, freedom, generosity, honesty, income, health and good governance.

It came across as a hugely progressive, futuristic city. Downtown is designed around providing footpaths for people. Vehicle and foot traffic have been separated to some extent, as the highways are a snaking system of curvy and smooth underground tunnels.

On and off ramps are spiraling underground tunnels, like an adventure ride at a theme park. Roads entering the city are subjected to an electronic toll and the air feels and tastes fresh and clear because of so many totally-electric Tesla-brand cars (a machine that sells for around 100k USD) using the streets. If someone owns an electric car, they're given free charging and parking within the city. 

Compared to other cities, Oslo isn't huge; it's a little bigger than Sacramento. But its skyline features the 1952 Olympic ski jump which overlooks the city, and steeper-than-they-look mountains which surround the city.

Blond and blue-eyed locals seem to smile more here, despite the fact Oslo is one of the world's most expensive cities. According to The Telegraph newspaper, it comes in as the 11th most expensive city in the world; It was No. 1 in 2014. A half pint of beer from a local brewery costs about $10 USD. The currency is the Norwegian Kroner, and the exchange rate is about nine Kroner to one dollar.

It's so expensive because there are high taxes for many things. For example, you pay tax when taking a taxi, about $10 USD, and that's just to get in the cab. The people who earn the most money are taxed roughly 50 percent. Speeding tickets, given out when cameras on the highhway catch a driver going 10 kph over the limit, are steep and harsh, around $1,000 USD.

Because of the high taxes, Norwegians are known to cross into Sweden, which is about an hour away from Oslo, to buy in bulk because the prices are much lower. There is a large shopping center about 10 minutes across the border into Sweden, and one can see Norwegians load up large shopping carts with multiples of everything, including sugary drinks and candy.

Besides a handful of newer skyscrapers and the new opera house, Oslo is not an architecturally stunning metropolis. But what it lacks in terms of a skyline, it makes up for in practicality and stunning natural beauty. 

It may just be a case of the grass is greener on the other side, but sunsets here seem to be shockingly vibrant. It's like Mother Nature approves of Oslo so much that she smiles each night and gently caresses the city and surrounding mountains with strokes of yellow, orange, red, pink and purple. People, no matter where they come from, stand transfixed by the nightly spectacle.

So, I sit here on the island of Hovedøya, by myself, with a perfect view of the city and surrounding islands. It was just a six-minute ferry ride, but I have successfully found solitude within a capital city. The sounds of traffic and construction have faded into the distance, and have been replaced by the squawks of seagulls, chirps of birds high in the trees and the dull moan of the occasional boat.

I shed my jacket, shirt, shoes and socks, rolled up the bottom of my pants and soaked up the warmth of the sun on my own little spot on this planet at this moment of time. This was my holy-shit-I'm-doing-this moment, something that was absolutely free yet invariably a moment of my own.

I meditated on this spot for 10 minutes, focusing on my breathing. I felt the warmth of the sun, listened to the birds and splashes of water. I felt the slight breeze greet my face and chest, and the hard rock against my ankle. The slightest of bluish-purple hues enveloped the world.

28/3 - The adventure on the islands of Oslofjord was one of my favorite times of the three days in Norway because it let me explore out in nature and in solitude. 

After hiking around Hovedøya in total solitude and chatting with a Filipino woman named Janice, the ferry unexpectedly set off for the other islands in the chain, much to my pleasure. 

The boat made six stops in all, but I decided to hop off on the island of Lindøya where I had one hour before the ferry returned. This island is home to a miniature neighborhood of red, green and yellow summer cabins. As I walked between the structures, I was struck by the apparent lack of other humans in the general vicinity. Curtains were drawn and the only sound of footsteps came from my own. 

As I explored a small, private dock complete with the smallest lighthouse I've ever seen, expecting to hear a voice warning me to back away, I found a rickety garden bench at the foot of one crooked and faded dock, along with a small coffee table. I took a seat, put up my feet and had an unobstructed view of Oslofjord.

I was speechless at the sight of the setting sun and its reflection in the water, straight ahead of me. I was also amazed that I had a portion of a Scandinavian island, in early spring, with a beautiful view all to myself. I never expected to find myself in that spot, but it's funny how traveling goes sometimes.

My maiden voyage into Norway was a success, despite the fact I've once again missed my ultimate goal: the Northern Lights. I will visit Oslo in the future but the next time I will head farther north, into the icy, rugged, jaw-dropping arctic Norwegian mountains, for a chance to catch a glimpse of one of the most spectacular natural events.

Until next time.

Hindsight, family in Vichy and the language reversal

16/3 - Just like in Mexico and Spain, I now have family in France.

The Reichmanns and I did a lot of things this week, including shopping at the grocery store, having dinner with Phil and Genevieve, exploring the ancient village of Charroux, hiking the Puy de Dome volcano and having another large dinner with some of the same friends who had a wild party a week ago. But, one thing seemed to be a constant.

This was my attempt at recreating a postcard I found in Charroux.

Charroux is an ancient village. We bought a jar of rooster testicles on this street.

Puy de Dome is a dormant volcano near Clermont-Farrand.

All of us seem to be a good fit with each other. Upon stopping by quickly one night with Genevieve, Phil (who curiously lives about 50 yards down the street) commented on the good atmosphere we seem to have. We're comfortable with each other. It feels like I've slotted in as an older brother, because I've taken to keeping an eye on both of the kids.

Dany has gotten close, as he held my hand at the grocery store a few nights ago. Nathalie and Philipe asked me to carry Dany after he had fallen asleep during the dinner with Phil a few nights ago and the dinner tonight with more of their friends. I enjoyed having a small body snuggle into my shoulder while trying to keep the feeling of sleep and took pride in making sure he didn't lose himself in the grocery store.

I'm proud to say these were some of my favorite memories of Vichy. I've said before that I don't want kids because it will tie me down, but the idea is growing on me. I like the idea of taking care of another life more and more. And the memory of that sky-high voice asking a simple question will stick with me.

"Tu fais quoi?" What are you doing?

17/3 - There are many devices or experiences in the world that anyone can understand or relate to, even if they don't speak the same language.

Math is one. Love. Pain. Joy.

Laughter is another. I played foosball with the Reichmanns and their friends last night, and all of us were laughing hysterically, fueled in small part by alcohol. But in those few moments, all of us spoke the same language fluently.

We sat around the dinner table, drinking, sampling rooster testicles, laughing, hurling jokes, discussing the different ways one can refer to the male and female genitalia and giving me a bad time, especially about my beard. But it was nice because the family could see I was trying my best to speak in French, so they tried their best to speak in English. This reversal is a funny thing.

The fact I can't understand everyone immediately when speaking French is just that: a fact. Like a week ago, I accepted that and and relaxed. I felt in control again. It did not matter one bit that several of the women my age said the beard makes me look old (it does) and that smoking cigars is something an old man does (true). I just looked into their eyes, grinned and shrugged in a playful way.

As I ride the train away from Vichy, I reflect on what I've gained over the past six days. Other than stronger French skills, I've gained a new family. Like my family in Mexico and Spain, I look forward to the next time we cross paths.

I recently read about one way of finding inner peace and calm is to provide service to the community, to make yourself useful regardless of whether you get paid with money. My week in Vichy was a way for me to help my fellow human, and all of us benefited. Nathalie and Philip are better with their English and, like me with my parents in Paris, translating French to English for me helped them.

Nathalie, however, is better at English than her husband, as he usually looks to her when struggling to find the correct combination of words.

18/ 3 - It happens every time. When I reflect on what I've done through the prism of hindsight, I'm always amazed. March had always been shaping up to be a busy month, but it's been a whirlwind with my parents visiting and the exchange with the Reichmanns. Every time I finish some sort of trip or plan, I have that momentary moment of nostalgia, a melancholy feeling that I have nothing else to look forward to.

I had been looking forward to both of these for months, and suddenly I'm on the other side of them. My mind has been stretched once more. I think a better time to properly digest my experiences will be next week, as I'll host friends from England this weekend.

As a final thought, I took pictures yesterday in Paris while waiting for my bus. I found myself in La Defense, the area of the city with many tall and shiny skyscrapers. Once again, this camera has stunned me.

Tour EDF, the building that houses France's main electricity company.

Couchsurfers, swimming and Needles Lookout

27/8 - I'm officially in another transition phase of my life. I'm physically still here in Porterville, but my mind and heart have been long gone and can be found elsewhere, far away.

My time at the newspaper is coming to a close, as Sept. 19 will be my final day. I also registered for the Foreign Services Officer test, which will be Oct. 3 in Sacramento. And of course, I will apply for the French visa in San Francisco on Sept. 16. Luckily, Marie-Amance gave me everything I need from her for that process.

Like during my final two weeks in England, I'm thinking ahead. I know my time here in Porterville is closing out, and it's a little bittersweet. While I will say it was a mistake to return to the Valley, I will never say it was a waste of time. My time in Porterville has definitely been productive, and I have grown as a person. Like that dead-of-night thunderstorm over the Isle of Wight a year ago, I feel like the past year is already fading away into a memory. But since there is no weather here besides heat, a more appropriate comparison would be the cloud of smoke from a wildfire slowly disappearing throughout a week.

28/8 - I hosted Evgeny via Couchsurfing last night. He is bald with a beard, and his accent is thick. He lives in Los Angeles but is originally from Moscow, Russia. He's been in California for the past four months and said everything is much different to Russia, including how many oranges there are compared to apples. It's funny how a traveler makes you appreciate things in the states more, like driving habits here. Apparently people drive much safer here compared to Moscow, and the traffic in LA is better than Moscow. Ok then!

I only hosted him for one night. This morning Evgeny was back on his motorcycle on his way to Sequoia National Park, Yosemite and eventually Burning Man. I'm glad I had the chance to give him some advice as to where to go and what to see; after all, I'm a traveler helping a fellow traveler. I'm also happy to be his first Couchsurfing host.

One more aspect of my life that is going through a transformation is the fact I joined a health club which houses an indoor swimming pool. It's time to treat my body right and get fit again. Swimming as a workout is tough! It's easier on your body in terms of impact, but there's the fact you can't breathe freely like you can when running. I feel it's more fun than running as well.

One other benefit of the gym is the fact it's the perfect release of frustration that builds up as a result of living in Porterville and the Central Valley...

1/9 - The flight to Paris is booked for Oct. 17. There are only a few more things I need for the visa application and then I'm ready to head off to San Francisco in a couple of weeks for the appointment at the French consulate. I still need travel insurance and a couple of application forms. I got passport photos taken a couple of days ago, but they look more like mugshots.

7/9 - I've had a pair of French couples Couchsurf with me over the past three days. While it was a pleasure to host Emma and her husband because we exchanged stories discussed language and they helped me with my French pronunciation, Cieline and her friend arrived late at night and were shy. It wasn't nearly as fun talking to Cieline and her friend because they were so shy and quiet, whereas Emma and Antoine were outgoing and talkative. They also brought homemade crepes and jams and shared them.

Both couples were around my age and were traveling through the Sequoia National Park, Yosemite and around California. I'm happy to give a little bit of advice to travelers regarding what to do around here.

As for my own hiking adventures, I went to Needles Lookout this past weekend in the Sequoia National Forest. It was a short hike (4.5 miles) but it was at high elevation, above 7,000 feet. The draw of this hike was the fire lookout perched precariously on a tall group of rock spires which provides an awe-inspiring view of the surrounding mountains. Unfortunately, the lookout burned down some years ago but the stairwell up to the concrete base still remains. There is a gate which blocks the stairwell, but it's not locked. So, while carefully climbing the steps, I opened the gate and proceeded to the top.

The walkway felt sturdy for the most part, but it had that rust color on the metal, and I felt a small amount of vertigo at the very top, as if I'd lose my balance based on the sheer drop on either side of me.

 

With all of the swimming and hiking I'm doing, I feel refreshed. It's a throwback to when I was in Spain and Finland, because of the fact I'm using a sauna several times a week as well. I feel better, I have more energy, hikes are easier and I can swim farther. I also look better! So, here's to the transition phase of my life. 

Visa process, stolen information and California hiking

27/7 - I failed the test I took in Los Angeles.

The passing mark was 70, and I scored 65. Eleven out of the 26 people who took it passed. I'm not disappointed though, because I do not want to live in Los Angeles.

On to France. I need to visit the French consulate in person to apply for the visa, and it has to be at the one in San Francisco because I live in that jurisdiction. However, I live closer to the one in Los Angeles. My appointment is set for Sept. 16. This was disappointing because I want to get this process over with, and it probably means I won't take the Foreign Services test in Paris. But no worries, because airline tickets are still cheap in October, should I be issued the visa by then.

2/8 - The visa process is painfully complex. I need some 13 items required for the in-person application in San Francisco, including copies of everything. The consulate wants to see two months of bank statements, a promise that I won't engage in commercial activity during my stay (get a French job?), a letter of invitation from Marie-Amance as well as proof of lease agreement, the cost of the visa, some other application forms, my passport and the actual thumb from my right hand, among other things.

So between now and Sept. 16, I'm stuck in limbo. There is plenty for me to do to prepare for both France and the upcoming Foreign Services Officer test, such as learning some basics of French and reading books on the recommended reading list, but all of this is taking away from other aspects of my life. Something needs to give. If I'm not putting in my full attention and effort into something, I should just walk away from it. But, that innate fear of walking away is present. It's a huge commitment to step away, one that takes courage.

As for the FSO test, I cannot register for it until Aug. 23. On one hand, I'm glad I know all of these dates and ahead of everything, but I'm restless. I want to register and see where I take it. I want to get this process started! It could be the beginning of an amazing time in my life.

6/8 - I grew up camping among Redwood trees. I now live close to Giant Sequoia trees. Even though I know the immense size of these trees and enjoy showing them to other people, the sight of them never gets old. Sequoias are like those larger-than-life landmarks found throughout the world that are so immense they look fake. They are as impressive after they fall over because you can see the massive-yet-shallow root system. And when they fall over a trail and crash, it's an amazing scene. Chaotic and messy, yet awe-inspiring and beautiful.

9/8 - It appears I'm the victim of a form of identity fraud. Someone has somehow gotten my debit card information and gone on a spending spree. Luckily, they only spent $80 at a TJMaxx. I have taken care of the situation by notifying the bank and changing my card information. It's a minor inconvenience. However, I'm still annoyed for one simple fact. If you're going to steal card information, at least treat yourself to something nice. Don't go to TJMaxx!

15/8 - In total, someone stole more than $300 from my account. I got the money back, but I no longer have a debit card. This has been a minor inconvenience and something to learn from. From now on I will be wary of gas stations, and I'll definitely use more cash.

I've been going on difficult hikes for the past three weeks. This past weekend Spencer and I went to Los Padres National Forest along Highway 1 and hiked the Salmon Creek Trail. There was a total of 2,400 feet of elevation, most of which was in the first mile. That 8-mile hike was brutal, but beautiful. I find it funny how I loathed hiking as a kid when my parents dragged me along on day trips. I hated it! But now as an adult, I love it. I relish the challenge. They're also beautiful!

Saturday was also my first time in San Luis Obispo. This is the home of Cal Poly, a university several of my high school friends went to. I heard plenty about SLO, but had not been there. On Saturday I found out what all the fuss is about. The weather is cool, there are stores that aren't chains and the woman are drop dead gorgeous! I lost count of how many tall, slender, fit, beautiful women I saw in those few hours, and none of them had four or five children running around everywhere! It was yet another reminder of how shocking it is I still live in Porterville. I'm physically still here; my body can be found in Porterville. But my mind and my heart are long gone in different locations.

It was also another reminder how invigorating it is to not only travel, but to leave the Central Valley, if only for a day. I felt refreshed! What might have been a totally normal day in SLO, was culture shock to Spencer and I. We're not used to eating good food in cool, comfortable weather, appreciating the form and the curves of the female body. Porterville just doesn't have any of that!

A Ducati, the Coast Guard, newborn cattle and a swim in the river

30/9 - I'm still on the ranch in Springville. I love living here and seeing the difference in moonlight each night. This is a perfect situation, except, I can't stay here forever. I've been looking for places to live in Porterville, but I'm being super patient, something I haven't been in the past. I'm being patient with looking for a motorcycle as well, something that is a little surprising to me considering how much I want one.

I recently looked at a Suzuki SV650, the same kind of bike I rode through Wales in June, but that bike had 29,000 miles on it; I'm looking for one with low mileage and a little bit more power. On Sunday, I believe I will have found a bike suitable for me. It's a 2004 Ducati 749 with less than 5,000 miles on it, and it's located in Bakersfield. The owner and I will meet halfway in Delano, and I have already started haggling, saying I have $4,000 cash in hand.

I've been at the Recorder for almost three weeks now. There hasn't been anyone complaining about coverage, and it's been great reconnecting with people and meeting new coaches. It feels so easy to me now, like it's natural. I haven't really been stressed out, even in situations where it becomes fine to be stressed. I can control only what I can control, such as how well and quickly I get my work done. I can't control when games end.

The ball for the United States Coast Guard has been set in motion. However, one of the recruiters advised me to hold off on the application for a few weeks in case I smoked marijuana recently. I guess it doesn't matter how much or how little you smoke. As the recruiter sternly said, "that stuff is bad." But I need to include some medical records that explain my heart condition along with the application. Because of that small hurdle, there is some small worry in the back of my mind that I won't be accepted based on that. I'm at the point where I really would like to see if I can get in. Over the past month or so, I've been focused on that, and in my mind that is the next most logical step in my life. I would be lying if I said there will be no disappointment if it turns out my heart condition prevented me from entering.

2/10 - As a form of rent, I've begun helping with work around the ranch. In the mornings I'll feed the cattle and horses. It's pretty neat to exit the house in the early morning sun, start walking down the driveway towards the barn and have the horses walking beside or behind you, knowing you're about to feed them. When the cattle see you walking they also make their way towards the barn. It's like a large meeting, and everyone knows what's going on.

Grunt work is a good way to start the day. In the barn I find myself rushing a little bit to feed all of the animals. The cattle are jockeying for position and being noisy, the horses stand to the side, giving you attitude and Spirit lurks just outside the front door, waiting for her bit of hay. But once the right amount of hay is in the correct places, the barn relaxes and quiets down with just the sound of chewing. There's also a large pile of wood that needs splitting and stacking. As a kid, I hated it. I hated everything about wood. Now? That work is refreshing!

There was a new calf born last night. It's the size of a dog and has trouble standing. In fact, it's so small that when Brent pointed it out to me in the early morning, I thought he was just pointing to the large cow keeping an eye on it. Later on in the day I saw it for the first time, thinking it was a dog, Beau to be specific. But it had trouble standing and eventually laid down right next to the fence with the same red-and-white cow keeping an eye on it. From far away, it looks scruffy. Hopefully I get a closer look in the morning.

4/10 - I got a closer look of it when Brent needed help driving the cattle back to the pasture closest to the house on Saturday. It's a female calf and it's so fluffy. It's still very unsure of everything though, such as where and how to eat with the rest of the herd. Like this morning, the calf was wandering around the backside of the barn and eventually to the side of the trough where the biggest members eat. While watching it, I saw it try to lick its hind quarters but lose its balance and fall down. When it got back up, it was standing too close to Boo's hind legs. When the large bull backed up a few paces, the calf got knocked in the neck and whipped in the face by the tail.

It'll learn.

That Ducati 749 I wrote about will be mine in a week. I went to Bakersfield to look at it, and the owner keeps it spotless. It won't be the easiest bike to maintain, but it has the power I'm looking for and should be a thrill to ride. But most importantly, I won't have to spend a fortune on gas anymore.

9/10 - The adventure never stops. This ranch is located in the perfect location for adventures to happen, such as hiking to the top of the very steep hill, following nothing but trails made by cattle until you get to the top. It's a small accomplishment to get to the top, where you can see the whole valley below as if you're flying over it, and there's also the possibility of going deeper into that backcountry.

The ranch is also less than 5 miles from the Sequoia National Park. Today I drove in that direction, not knowing exactly where I wanted to go or what to do. What ended up happening was one of those unplanned adventures that makes a day great. I ended up swimming in the Tule River by Lower Coffee Camp and then laying on a warm, granite boulder in the sun in the middle of the river. It was a fantastic, spontaneous decision. I also kept my shoes on my feet so I could walk upstream in the water, up boulders and small rapids. It's a great way to get to those large, calm pools where it's totally peaceful and perfect for just floating on your back.

But today was a representation of why I returned to Porterville. I'm so lucky to have friends who give me good advice and call me out when my ego gets too big. It's jarring, but refreshing (in a way) when someone points out you're being a little too arrogant or egotistical. It makes you take a look at yourself and step back. I welcome that and wish people around me would do it more often.

11/10 - As a final entry here, I'd like to mention two things. I rode the Ducati 749 home today. It's pretty powerful and will draw my complete respect. It's loud (which is good; people will hear me) and runs hot (which is perfect for the winter). Now I just need to get my own garage to store it (Thank you so much, Tamara).

With the arrival of the bike comes the resurfacing of my inner adventurer. I found myself tonight sending a Couchsurfing request to a person in Tehachapi. My plan would be to ride to Red Rock Canyon State Park, a small park to the southeast of Bakersfield. It looks really interesting in pictures and I'd love to do some hiking in the desert. What's good is this trip would be less than 200 miles so I could do it easily in a weekend.

Based on my history, it looks like I'm going to Red Rock Canyon State Park.

Uh oh.