Travels to Places

I like to go places and think about things.

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The author. Taken somewhere in the badlands of South Dakota. My paintings can be seen at boringsbonsky.tumblr.com

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Day 195

The last day on the road, I spent the night last night with old friends in the nation’s capitol. A man I have known for years and his partner whom I was present for on their first date, that later asked me to preside over their commitment ceremony, probably the biggest honor of my life. We trade stories of the road and talk about life and its changes. I feel the same as when I departed, yet I know I’m different. In all things we hope for change, whether great or small. We work so that our days may be better, we eat to change our feelings about how hungry we are, we search for love so we may change the feelings of isolation inherent in consciousness, I know that nigh seven months of traveling the country have changed me, I just hope it is for the better. I know when I left I had notions of seeing the land and meeting people and talking about lives in hopes of capturing an idea of what life is like for others, but I am too shy to talk to everyone I meet. Thus the interviews, a ruse to enable conversations. I know I would have talked far less with strangers without them. As for seeing the land I made a rule for myself to avoid interstates as much as possible, and I stuck to state or county roads for much of the journey. And in so doing I have seen much of the locales of the states. I have been to countless small towns, with their little town squares and courthouses and county fairgrounds. Like all things in life I compared them to others I have seen, and they blended together, becoming one with small towns I saw in my youth, small towns I’ve seen in movies, small towns I expect to see. I know the people there all have incredibly complex lives, loves and dreams and heartbreaks and joys. Every building houses years of stories, of the time when the old man drove through the window, of the time during the storm when the young lovers first discovered their bodies. I know that if I were to stop in any town and find a job, I could put down roots, make friends and enemies, live a life unlike any I thought possible. I have traveled broadly through the land and seen the surface of these mind boggling depths, and I know it has changed me. I know when I left I was terribly sad about a lost love, another failed love in a life of failed love. I traveled with an ideal memory of her, a laugh and a squeeze that I held too tight. Somewhere out in the woods I let it go, but by bit. I left memories of her in the mountains, hid them at the bottoms of lakes and rivers, secreted them away in caves. I still and always will love the time spent, but it is gone and will not return, better to rejoice in the time spent with her than lament the days spent without. Having spent so much time alone, so much time contemplating myself and the world around me, how could I not be changed? I only hope I am wiser for this, I hope I can share that wisdom, even if only to the few who listen to me. I am calmer now that when I left, quieter too. When I was a young man, this is the me I hoped I would be, and I am proud of that. I have watched all the sunsets I could, danced under the stars in the quiet desert, stumbled lost and alone through forests and ravines in the deep night. For the last months I have remembered how to be alive and present, and I know I will remember this for quite some time. For it does not matter where or what or when I am, only who. I am a person who values life and the world. I think beauty is real and valuable. I think anger should be met with calmness, rejection with apologies, hurt with forgiveness. I believe it is possible for every thing to be special and yet not be more valuable than others. I know I am here to point the way towards the peace that I know for those that will heed me. I have found peace in beauty and patience. I have found joy in understanding that while we are are isolated, we all live intricate lives that bind us to another in ways we will not always know. Hopefully you that read this will forgive my hubris in believing these insights special. I hope for you this is all already known to you. But of course then you would be understanding that not all of us start off knowing it, that some of us must learn ourselves, out in the world alone and sad and crying at the moon. It is for them that I write, in hope that at least one person finds solace here, sees a spark of hope that we can live at peace together, that just one person decides that joy and peace and beauty are worth bringing into this world.

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Day 194

The weather is too dreadful. I had planned on going to Canaan Valley in West Virginia today, but rain and cold have made me decide to just head home and return in the summer.

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Day 193

The sky is grey, and the air is so cold. A good day to get underground. I visited Mammoth Caves when I was young, and I still remember aspects of the tour. When I arrive today I find out that most of the tours are done for the day, only a short one, a shorter version of the one I took, is still available. The guide is friendly, and the group is just me and a Chinese couple, but still it seems underwhelming. Perhaps it is the weather, perhaps travel fatigue, maybe it was the respite I had at my mothers and all the good home cooked meals we had there. I had a brief return to civilization, and now these bare rock walls and endless tunnels hold nothing for me. It could just be that the tour was too short, and through a pretty featureless part of the cave. Regardless of the reason, the anxiousness I had to head home from yesterday is only growing, and I feel too distracted to fully appreciate the wonders of nature.

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Mammoth Cave National Park, Kentucky

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Here and there, Kentucky

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Day 192

Another day where I wake up too late. The days are so short now, and the nights so cold, it's hard to get up in the morning. By the time I arrive at Smoky Mountain National Park, the sun has already passed its apex and is slowly sinking to the horizon. This is another place I have been as a youth, on day trips with family oh so long ago. The tower that I wished to see the view from is closed for winter, the road covered with a thick sheet of snow and ice. The air is warmer today, but the shadows are still cold, and all over I see white hiding in the dark. Unsure of what to do, I choose a hike that seems like it will get some of the fleeting light, and I walk the woods alone. I pass no one, it must be too cold for people to want to spend a day in the woods. The only wildlife I see is a fat cardinal, chewing on seeds in the underbrush, strangely docile and uncaring of my presence. The path weaves up a hillside, affording great views of the mountains, until it finally ends at a frozen waterfall. I love being here, seeing the light through the bare trees. Seeing the colors of plants that thrive when frozen solid. Listening to the wind rustle leaves and ice crackling as it melts. But in the back of my head I know I am headed home soon. I am unsure of how life will be when I get there, and I am anxious to know how I have changed. The sun sets and the world gets dark, and I drive north, talking with friends through technology, making plans for when I see them soon.

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Great Smoky Mountains National Park, Tennessee

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Great Smoky Mountains National Park, North Carolina and Tennessee

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Great Smoky Mountains National Park, North Carolina

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Day 191

The cold has taken its toll on my truck. I mean to leave in the morning, but find that the battery has died during the last few days. Eventually AAA comes to jump me, but I end up leaving much later than I had intended. By the time I get to my first destination for the day it is already late afternoon, and I know this will be the only place I will be stopping today. It is a location I have been to many times before, Whitewater Falls North Carolina. A pull-off to a parking lot and then a short hike leads to an overlook where a family is posing for snapshots. They don't step aside from the view, so I decide I may as well hike the path that descends to the falls. The trail has barely changed over the years since I was here last. The woods are quiet, aside from the subtle roar of the river below. I see no other people after the overlook, no creatures or birds either. It is cold here, and colder as I make my way lower. At the river I am glad that I wasn't able to look from the overlook, for the view here is so amazing. The days of freezing cold have turned the river into a beautiful flowing ice sculpture. The falls are frozen in place, shimmering brightly in the late afternoon sun. It is not completely frozen of course, large sections are still flowing rapidly, churning with chunks of ice. I clamber over rocks along the river bank, and make my way to the foot of the falls, where I linger as long as I can listening to the roar of nature and feeling the cold icy mist on my face.

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Whitewater Falls, North Carolina

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Whitewater Falls, North Carolina

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Days 189-190

A weekend spent at my mothers. She cooks things I like, and we go thrift shopping and talk about family and grace and such. It is time well spent. The world outside is freezing, and I am glad of the warmth here.

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Road interview 47

Bonnie is a friend of my mother, and a donator to my kickstarter. I was looking forward to meeting her, and she ended up being a real pleasure to talk to and interview.

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Bonnie, South Carolina

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Day 188

I arrived at my mothers house last night, and when she asked what I wanted to do first I replied "I thought we were doing Table Rock? Isn't that why I'm here?" Which immediately set her into making plans and getting excited about the hike. The hike to the summit of Table Rock is one that I went on more than a few times as a teenager, and it brings back memories of my family and wintry days spent in the woods. Today is another of those wintry days, spent with family. My younger sister was loathe to come, and is none to pleased at the prospect of spending the day here. My mother and stepfather however, couldn't be more happy about this hike. I try to cheer up my sister, pointing out icicles along the small creek, and the needle ice in the shadows at the edge of the path. Like many of the places I have been to recently, other places from my past, I feel as though I am walking through a dream, an old memory. The rocks and trees are familiar, the shelter where we eat lunch the same as it was years ago. I have been here before on days like this, but the me I was then is not the me I am now. I perceive things differently, see the spaces with eyes that have seen much more. Years of painting, of examining my surroundings with the artist's eye let me see this place in a new light, which is strange because it looks the same it does in my memory. There are subtle differences of course, places where rocks have shifted, trees that have fallen. Many of the pines are dead, killed by some sort of beetles according to my mother. We talk about the changing forest as we eat lunch in an old shelter built decades ago by the CCC. As we munch on sandwiches and hummus small groups of young people trickle by. We all take note of the average age of visitors today. As I've traveled the country I've noticed that most of the hikers I've seen on trails have been older, people in their 40s and up. Today however it seems everyone is in their early 20s. And boy are they loud as they walk. I suppose I take it for granted that the forest is a place of quiet introspection, and I certainly feel old as I grumble on about the youths and their babbling ways. As we make our way to the top we pass sheets of ice with water flowing beneath it. The water slips by as dark spots, like shadowy spirits sneaking past. They gurgle as they go, and for a moment I am able to forget the ceaseless chatter of the other hikers here. There are small clearings up here, and I wander away from my family for a while, looking at the lichen growing on the rocks and the short twisted trees that struggle to survive here. The voices fade away and the only noise becomes that of the water spirits slinking past on their icy paths. I stay awhile and listen to the world. I meet back up with my mother, and we make out way to the end of the trail, where we snack a bit more and I take pictures of family enjoying the wilds. The day winds down as we make our way back to the car and ultimately to my mothers house, where I will spend an evening reminiscing and sharing stories.