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Tales of Adventure pt5 before/after Tales of Adventure pt 5 "Straight to Hell, Boy" So I marched through the canopied trees, along the trail, finding spots filled with memories. One spot where, after meditating, while playing hacky sac with friends, as the acid grooved down real hard like, so much so I couldn't even talk until one round we all did a spectacular move, I caught the hack and I grunted out through grit teeth and saliva, "Thatsa' hack. Gotta' keep movin'." Onto another spot where I knew that I had lost a girlfriend, she just hadn't told me. Bittersweet and maudlin, I didn't dwell on it. Why should I? Moved to another spot I meditated upon in the past, over an inlet of sea green and blue, the boulders evident through the water, looking small, but the truth being that I was high up and the water was crystalline. Feeling the waves toll around, smashing into the cliffs making the land vibrate, I began to write. Over the course of the next couple of hours I mostly filled up a reporter's pocket notebook. I paused at the peak cliff, the one that sticks out the furthest out into the lake, just past the resplendant greens and blues in the water, golden rocks riveted with veins of color and splash. I was alone as alone is, and I loved it. I sat and wrote, basking in the unabated sun, feeling the chill breeze from the frigid pristine lake. Some guy came out of the trail, one of those old guys far overequipped for the task, with hat goggles and all kinds of gortex gear, and, of course, walking poles. God help me if I ever use those. Ski poles, made for walking. A sucker born every what? Someone is making a ton of money from that one. He bleated in surprise as he saw me, and then his friends piled out of the underbrush. All day, I was the only one with the state of mind to do this trial alone. They moved on and I moved on. Five times throughout the day, I would pause at cliffs edge, wondering what to do. I would stand and think about how easy it would be, and each time, thoughts of loved ones would enter my head. And I would take a picture and move on. This is very meaningful. The pendulum of my life has swung from the negative past the set-point. This is the exact moment that it has done so. As I hiked along the trail, I began singing Clash songs, thinking of friends past and good times. Alone as alone can be, I never once felt like I was alone. I don't really ever feel alone. In many ways, I don't think I am. Distance isn't always marked in miles or time. Alone is a relative term. 'Straight to hell, boyyyyy, straight to hell, boyyyyyy..." I emerged from the canopy of virgin forest onto a sunny plateau. The trees were blown back from the edge as if by a hot wind that withered and laid them down to rest, dead and lifeless. The continuing contest of time between land and sea, the duel of eternity and this was clearly the edge. I came to the last edge myself, thought of my friends, my loved ones, lovers past and future's nothingness, took a picture, realized love is all we have and nothing else exists and moved on, gaping at the colors in the rock, covered in greens and purples, striations and fissures abounded. The rock vibrated under my feet as the sea playfully slapped the cliffs like a lion tired from the hunt and full of meat pawing at a child. I took two of my last three pictures and clambored down from the cliff to a white sugar sand beach. Seven miles down, three to go.
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