[x_section style=”margin: 0px 0px 0px 0px; padding: 45px 0px 45px 0px; “][x_row inner_container=”true” marginless_columns=”false” bg_color=”” style=”margin: 0px auto 0px auto; padding: 0px 0px 0px 0px; “][x_column bg_color=”” type=”1/2″ style=”padding: 0px 0px 0px 0px; “][x_counter num_start=”0″ num_end=”90″ num_speed=”1500″ num_prefix=”” num_suffix=”” num_color=”#2ecc71″ text_above=”Rode for” text_below=”Minutes” text_color=””][x_gap size=”45px” class=”x-hide-xl x-hide-lg x-hide-md “][/x_column][x_column bg_color=”” type=”1/2″ style=”padding: 0px 0px 0px 0px; “][x_counter num_start=”0″ num_end=”35″ num_speed=”1500″ num_prefix=”” num_suffix=”” num_color=”#3498db” text_above=”Covered” text_below=”Miles” text_color=””][/x_column][/x_row][/x_section][x_section style=”margin: 0px 0px 0px 0px; padding: 45px 0px 45px 0px; “][x_row inner_container=”true” marginless_columns=”false” bg_color=”” style=”margin: 0px auto 0px auto; padding: 0px 0px 0px 0px; “][x_column bg_color=”” type=”1/1″ style=”padding: 0px 0px 0px 0px; “][x_text]Part in transit, maintenance day tentatively scheduled a restless feeling is building.
Days of quiet, hours devouring books and podcasts, logging copious amounts of sleep had been the ideal recharge station for an introverted soul. The time in a cabin along the river was pure perfection, but change is never-ending.
Fully re-energized, the road is calling, Come back. Get off the beaten path. Explore this great land.
Unable to resist, I head north. Word is Hatcher Pass will satisfy my desire for epic views and wild places.
Blue water tumbling over rocks, winding by bright green underbrush, cutting a path through the valley floor. Hills and mountains pile up, a domino of rugged land. Head on a swivel, I try to take it all in. Snapping pictures at first, I eventually give in to the reality that my images aren’t doing it justice. A place that vibrates pure wildness appears flat, one-dimensional on the camera screen. I vow to simply to remember it all.
Turning off the pavement, we climb straight up. Slowly weaving, bouncing, jostling over the uneven gravel. Looking to the right, it’s obvious we need to pull off, make some changes.
The combination of steep incline and incessant bumping has caused gear from the nose of the sidecar to work it’s way back. Grinning at the absurdity of it all Baylor sits there surrounded by bags, dog treats, and fix-it supplies. Laughing, I move things around, strap bags down, carry on.
Reaching the top, we pull off. Make a beeline for the edge to see as far as possible. In the distance a flock of paragliders silently dance through the sky. Float up, circle round, lose elevation and do it all again. Unfamiliar with the choreography, I wonder what the goal is. Fly longer, higher, farther? I don’t understand. Seems a bit crazy, really.
And then I smile at the wonderfully, wildly interconnected nature of life. There are many that might not understand OMD, find it an absolutely insane undertaking. That’s the amazing thing about life. No matter what you’re doing, there are people doing much crazier things. The gap between nuts and normal not as wide as it first appears.
Everyday on the road I see something that surprises me. Am given an education in what is possible with stubborn dedication, supportive community and creative ingenuity. The more I see wild ideas alive in the world, the less I believe in limits. Impossible or possible, it’s all just a matter of perspective.
Night approaching, we turn towards Rufio. I still don’t understand the intricacies of the dance, but given an opportunity I try. Learn the steps. Shift my perspective. Embrace the possibilities.
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