Arkansas Lost and Alone Part 3 of 4: The Jesus Tree
I'm frenzied and manic and starting to make bad decisions. I alternate between laughing, crying, and swearing.
BLOG POST #006 - Lost and Alone Part 3: The Jesus Tree
How I learned to ride a motorcycle, speak Spanish and not die. Riding solo in search of adventure from Detroit to Argentina.
I am anxious.
I'm amused at having a good story to tell.
I'm feeling like a fool.
I am sad.
I am so incredibly angry.
I'm frenzied and manic and starting to make bad decisions. I alternate between laughing, crying, and swearing. "Ffffff you, UN. Shove your Global Happiness Index up your blue helmeted ass with a poker made of those little international security council desk flags." My brain has split into twenty different people, each experiencing this differently, all at the same time. I see myself down below from an out-of-body vantage point and I laugh at the lunacy of it all.
I am anxious.
I'm amused at having a good story to tell.
I'm feeling like a fool.
I am sad.
I am so incredibly angry.
I hate my ex-girlfriend Larry, and her betrayal.
I miss her.
I'm glad she's gone.
There is a danger of thinking in absolute terms when I am compromised, so it is not good to be too pessimistic. But the main thing I am feeling right now is that everything in the world is SHYTTTTT. This bike is mocking me, as well as my way of life and my naive idea that I can do extraordinary things. Thoughts of Larry are a completely un-welcomed complication, irrelevant to the situation and only making everything harder. This is truly one of the worst signs of how quickly my mind is unraveling.
I have always lived boldly and dared the world to challenge my limits. In my family life, I got married in a foreign country, I built a company, and I raised three awesome kids. I once walked three miles barefoot in the dark back to my jungle camp in West Africa. One time I was held up at gunpoint. One time I finished a half marathon with a busted hip. There's a phrase I often say to myself, "Why can't I just quit like normal people?!?!"
Counting back, I realized that I had dropped the bike thirteen times. Lifting it got harder and harder as my arms wore out and my back began to pinch. I was physically spent and on the verge of coming mentally unhinged.
I don't recall the last time I took such a big "L.” But I am beaten. I am not getting out of here tonight. I have no idea how I am getting out of here at all.
My nervous system was beyond circuit-breaker overload and given that no possible act of noise or violence could satisfy my rage anyway, I suddenly went quiet and just sat down.
I sat there silent, with a thousand-yard stare for a long minute.
Eventually, I noticed the smell. The forest was green and lush with the fragrance of rich foliage in every direction. Accepting my fate and giving in, my mood changed like a cool fresh breeze blowing in over the tops of the trees.
I remembered how much I love the wilderness. Then in an instant, I was calm.
The future is unknown, so there is no reason not to enjoy where I am right now. In the most drastic and sudden mood change of my life, I am feeling happy and grateful and in awe of the beautiful night in the secluded forest.
I strip down to just my pants and shoes. In minutes I pitch my one-man tent. This thing is an awesome, high-end, two-and-a-half-pound piece of machinery that gives me perfect shelter from any mosquitoes or rain that may come along. I eat from my stash of snacks. I drink lots of water. I have a glorious night, being more alone than I ever have before in my life.
The early evening was about frustration and dismay. The night was about nature, serenity, and peace. Then the next morning was about a calm determination to get the hell out of there.
As the sun rose, it was just an unemotional job that needed to get done. After a solid six- or eight-hours sleep, I had woken up feeling refreshed and clear-headed. My body felt like I had done ten rounds with Mike Tyson after telling his new girlfriend that his voice was like "Mickey Mouse's little sister." I am achy and scratched and bruised and dirty. But this morning I'm ready - dare I say eager, for another thumping.
I wanted to get an early start because I didn't know what to expect from the Arkansas sun. Best to get the work in before the midday heat.
I surveyed the damage. So far, I had lost a mirror, broken a foot peg, damaged the chain, smashed the left-side hand guard, and cracked a third of the windshield clean off. Everything was duct-tape-able and non-essential up to that point.
I decided to do a reconnaissance hike. I needed to confirm where to go before I could formulate a plan on how to get there. I prepped a small backpack with minimum essentials and headed downhill. There were a couple of intimidating slopes, but a lot of the path was quite flat. The trail was insane. It was so densely overgrown I doubt an ATV could get through. I came to a dead stop at a huge fallen tree. My first thought was that this is a total dealbreaker. I could not ride La Barra uphill from where she was. So, if I couldn't go this way, then what? Do I need a helicopter to get her out?
I climbed over the tree to find a little side path thirty yards up ahead. Following it back the way I came, it turned out to be a detour around a fallen tangled mass of branch and boughs. I hadn't noticed the secondary trail on the way in because it was almost completely covered by years of scrub and weeds. I matted and tore and fought back the foliage to beat a small path forward that I thought might be rideable on the bike. So far, I was still in business.
From there, the conditions seemed to improve to the point where I might even have described it as an actual "road". There was another fallen tree and path around it like before. I was still hyper focused, but also enjoying the leisurely forest walk at this point.
And then it happened. As I rounded a bend, my pathway ended at a road. Off to the left, I suddenly saw the tree of my salvation. I don't know if it was an oak or a maple, but I immediately gave it the nickname of the "Jesus Tree." I had studied the GPS and google maps and talked to Don to death about where I was or might be. Don told me about this tree he really liked. He had the contractors doze a path up to his building site, but he asked them to leave the tree as it was. So, they carved out a small patch of grass at its base, in the middle of the road where the two lanes bent around the tree on either side.
This tree was unmistakable. I finally knew where the hell I was. The rest of the map in my head all came crashing back to memory, and I understood exactly where I needed to go. I was not out of trouble yet, but at least one major piece was neatly placed on the card-table jigsaw puzzle with that snappy-fit awesome sound in my head.
I hear the ripple of a small river nearby. The water is cool and clear. I can see straight down to the brown clay rocks that make up the riverbed below. A thousand years of rotting leaves give the water its own slight tint, like a never-ending supply of forest tea.
I need to have a swim. I don't really want to wander around in wet clothes afterwards, so naked it is. Lowering my body into the water, I stop chest deep to gasp a big breath of air, at the stark contrast of sweaty morning heat against sudden river chill. The filth and dried-blood-scratches flow off my body downriver. It cleanses and refreshes like the holy Ganges, and the Jordan, and the garden hose in the backyard of my grandma's cottage in the summers of my childhood. I understand why the imagery of baptism is so powerful and universal among all human mythologies. I am emotionally and physically washed clean.
After about a half hour I snap back to action, keenly aware that there is still a lot of work ahead. Don had assured me that "up" this hill leads straight to his place, so all I must do is get my bike, my luggage, and my ass back here to this point. Then I should be home free.
From the time it took to get to the Jesus Tree and my best guess on the GPS, I figured it was about a mile and a half back to the motorcycle. I double-timed it back, trying to memorize every turn and bush. I stripped La Barra down again to be as light and thin as possible to make it through the foliage. This was going to be a gnarly run.
Rough as it was, that forest ride felt like a walk in the park compared to what I went through the night before. I had to be pretty precise about the flightpath, between the fallen trees and cutting though the weeds at twenty-two miles per hour. But it was daylight and all downhill. What a piece of cake.
I parked La Barra under the Jesus Tree and headed back one last time for my gear. Stopping short before I got out of view, I looked back to take a photo. "FFFFck Larry. Good decision and good riddance. My life is awesome after all." I don't love being bitter about her and not sure she deserves it, but that's the emotion that fit and served me best right then, so I was going with it.
At some point I saw a brand-new piece of plastic randomly laid out on the trail. It was striking black with no dirt or obvious signs of age. I am used to seeing a 1977 Dr. Pepper can out here, but this struck me as odd. Then I realized, "Oh yeah. That is the smashed remains of my side-view mirror."
An unpleasant reminder of what can happen on the road.
NEXT POST COMING SOON: August 28, 2024
