Writing right now at Dana Point, California at a Starbucks on the Pacific Coast Highway. Already 100 miles under my belt this morning. Three or four hundred more to go if I can take the heat. This’ll be the hottest ride I’ve ever been on as it’s supposed to reach 110 in Arizona today. I bought a camel pack that holds two liters of water and has a long hose that supposedly I can drink through while riding. Anyway, we’ll see about that.
I’ve spent about 30 days enjoying the gracious hospitality of my daughter and son in law. And for two weeks my son Colin and his girlfriend, Chloe, from Northern Ireland were visiting as well. So sad to see them go.
Loss reminds us of loss stored
In the cold, hallowed halls
Of our heart.
I had a great time with my son in law and my daughter the last two days. My daughter and I went to LACMA (Los Angeles County Museum of Art) as I wanted to see the Chinese paintings. Amazingly, they had ones of those 8th-9th century eccentric monks, Han Shan and Shide. Han Shan inspired some of the writings of Jack Kerouac and the poems by Gary Snyder.
I climb the road to Cold Mountain,
The road to Cold Mountain that never ends.
The valleys are long and strewn with stones;
The streams broad and filled with thick grass.
Moss is slippery though no rain has fallen;
Pines sigh but it isn’t the wind.
Who can break from the snares of the world
And sit with me among the white clouds?
Yesterday we all went to the Aroma Café and to the Star Lite Cantina which were both fun. And today, at 5:30 am I said “goodbye”.
Feels good being back on the bike, riding down the Pacific Coast Highway, 71 degrees and occasional sea spray, the whirling spindrift, following the shore through Huntington Beach past the surfers, and through Laguna Beach.
Missing my kids and practicing non attachment, but not doing very well.