1. I thought a lot today about how much I miss wandering around aimlessly, whether on bicycle, while walking, or while hiking. When I was in my thirties, for example, I used to ride my bicycle aimlessly around Eugene. Sometimes I just whizzed along the Williamette River; other times I rode up and down streets south of the University of Oregon, thinking about stuff, but without a destination; sometimes I'd stop in at the Beanery for coffee or drop into a bookstore, say Black Sun, and browse; some days I was lucky and someone I knew would be out watering or sitting on a porch or out for a walk and we'd talk for a while. I often felt like a boy again, riding my bicycle just to do it, not for exercise, but because I enjoyed venturing aimlessly out in the place where I lived.
More recently, I used to do a lot of aimless walking in Eugene, often with my camera, taking pictures of easy chairs, sofas, benches, and other things to sit on in people's yards or on their porches and other subjects; sometimes I headed in a direction, say north, and ended up at Delta Ponds, not having planned to do so; often it was on these aimless walks that I checked out new businesses I'd read or heard about. I enjoyed taking similar walks in neighborhoods in Washington, D. C. For some reason, I enjoyed parking the Sube, on occasion, in the Brookland neighborhood. I walked aimlessly around it and sometimes ventured on out into what I think is called the Catholic Triangle to gawk at the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception or wonder what it would be like to study at Trinity Washington University or at the Catholic University of America and live in this part of the city.
A couple of days ago, I panted and gasped my way to the top of the hill behind the hospital and the trail forked. I knew if I followed the right fork that eventually I'd starting winding down an old rough road and end up in Vergobbi Gulch. That's what I did. But, I wondered if the left fork might be the juncture in the trail where the two guys I talked to in June at the Health and Wellness trailhead went and wondered if that trail eventually went to Graham Mountain. When I was younger, I would have explored where the unknown trail went, confident in my energy, unconcerned about getting to a point where I'd have to backtrack and return, and excited by the notion that I might make some kind of discovery.
Right now, I don't trust that I have the energy to go wandering somewhat aimlessly into unknown territory. Especially when hiking alone, I am careful to stick to the plan I set out with, the plan I shared with either my sisters or with Debbie. I am concerned that something could happen while I'm hiking alone. If something happened after I decided to do some youthful aimless wandering and I didn't return home when I said I would, no one would know where to look for me.
2. I thought about all of this wandering on a bicycle ride today. After enjoying lox, capers, and cream cheese on a plain bagel with a couple glasses of water at the Bean, I pedaled east from there to the trailhead on the Trail of the Coeur d'Alenes at Big Creek -- it's called the Shont Trailhead -- and back home. This ride from my house and back was, at most nine miles -- probably closer to 8.5 miles. It's a gentle uphill climb from Kellogg to Shont (Big Creek) and my progress was (discouragingly) slow. I wanted to leave the trail and pedal aimlessly for a while around Elizabeth Park, but I didn't trust that I had the energy to do so -- I think this was the moment that got my mind thinking so much about my younger days, my stores of energy as a younger person, and aimless biking, walking, and hiking.
I found a shady spot at a picnic table at the Shont trailhead, hydrated, and read a fascinating essay, "We Go It Alone" by Rahawa Haile. It was published in the book I bought at Shakespeare and Co. in Missoula, The Best American Travel Writing, 2018. Haile's essay explores her experience and her reflections as a black woman thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail in 2016. Her essay is online, right here. (Even if you don't read the essay, check out the picture of Rahawa Haile at the top of the essay. It's a stunning shot on the Appalachian Trail.)
3. Back home, I eventually settled into the Vizio room, hoping that one of my television content sources might have the JJ Cale documentary, To Tulsa and Back: On Tour with JJ Cale, available. No such luck, but one way or another, I'll get my hands on the DVD. I did discover, however, that Amazon Prime carries JJ Cale: In Session at Paradise Studio. It runs about eighty minutes, without commentary, and is a 1979 session featuring JJ Cale, Leon Russell, Christine Lakeland, Larry Bell, and other musicians playing a string of JJ Cale songs in Leon Russell's Paradise Studio.
I was mesmerized by JJ Cale's playing, his singing, his songwriting and loved the sound of this group of musicians. I loved hearing Leon Russell, not only playing different keyboards, but singing both solo and along with JJ Cale. If you'd like to take a peek at this session, it's available on YouTube, right here.
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