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July 30, 2012 by jessica

Day One: Campground Closed

First day out and I ride a short 38 miles from Burlington to Rockport State Park where I plan to camp for the evening. I roll in happily exhausted, but nearly fly over my handlebars to a halt by barriers in the road. “Campground Closed”.

Great…
I lean up my bike on a park bench in the day use area, take off my helmet, socks, and put on some flip flops. Who cares? I’m camping, regardless.

On the other side of the bushes, I hear a woman’s voice and a cough from a gentleman. I tip-toe towards the bathroom past them, but really I just want to scope them out. Don’t want to get in trouble for pitching my tent in a non authorized area. Through the bushes, in spy-movie style, I peep through the leaves to find… the man is doing a watercolor! My spine straightens in surprise. Well, I’m a painter too! I don’t contain my excitement as I walk right through the bushes. “You’re painting!” The man looks shocked by the person emerging from the foliage behind him. He doesn’t address my creepy approach, but is polite.

In meeting, this is Don and Cherrie. Cherrie is felting colored wool at the table. After a few minutes of talking they recognized I’m not some crazy person, and in fact, when I tell them I am effectively homeless and about my dilemma with campsite barricades, they are swift to find me help. They used to live in this area. Don attentively begins dialing old neighbors’ numbers, and with no cell reception, jumps in his car to knock on doors. I stay with Cherrie as she shows me about felting. While she works with her hands, she tells me how Don does all the graphic design for Cascadian Organic Farms which is now owned by General Mills. Don has also recently recovered from a massive brain tumor which still has effects on his functions, but overall, Don is strong.

Don returns and has me follow him to Pat and Debbie’s ranch. The beautiful property is high on the hill overlooking the Skagit river. The property also lays next to a northern Skagit indian tribe. A royalty burial ground is right at the entrance.
Pat and Debbie are something else. Totally hippy and fun loving, they are welcome to travelers as they were once ones themselves. The grandson Armondo keeps wandering outside to curiously learn more about the stranger guest. We search for slugs and bear tracks and by nightfall, I sleep soundly. Debbie treats me to coffee and a bagel in the morning and before it gets too late, I’m on my way.

I make sure to stop at Cascadian Organic Farm stand the next day. Thanks Don and Cherrie

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July 21, 2012 by jessica

For Whom The Bridge Trolls

Seattle, Washington
July 21, 2012

My panniers are packed, the car is loaded with all my possessions for the next three months. Jenny will drive me to Burlington (an hour north) where I will begin my most epic adventure—a bicycle ride from Washington to New York City.

But my sister is stills sleeps and heck, this is Seattle, why not enjoy the neighborhood where I’m at. I walk outside and just two blocks from the apartment, under the Aurora Bridge, I visit the bridge troll, a famous public sculpture. A perfect place to begin my first watercolor of a new series.

Using a “no parking” post, I hoist myself to sit on one of the bridge columns. Ahead, a crane blocks a clear view of the sculpture. Luckily, I lust for massive construction equipment and find comfort in familiar urban scenes. Just taking in the hum of the city as the cars drive the bridge overhead. My sketchbook in hand.

 


A gentle hum from under the bridge

 

After a drawing, then a painting, my addiction kicks in—coffee. Heck, this is Seattle, the coffee connoisseurs capitol. Just a block further, and I’m at a vegan gluten free cafe called The Flying Apron. The latte is delectable and especially exciting when I find agave syrup among the sweetener options. Like a kid with Hershey’s syrup over ice cream, I swirl agave in my coffee with intent. It’s fun to waist time. I grab a the table instead of taking the coffee to go. Heck, I’m in Seattle, I’m going to be an artist who sits in a coffee shop and paints!

I work a little more on my troll watercolor, toiling over the drawing and shadows. Everything has to look just right. But the painting feels unsettled. It’s not perfect. It’s not complete. The prospective should’ve been different. Maybe I should restart.

Coffee at the Flying Apron

Leaning back, sipping coffee, I look around. Heck, I’m still in Seattle. I haven’t even started my bike ride and I’m already throwing my work down.

Looking at my drawing and painting of a bridge troll, I begin to wonder “How could this have been a better start for this crazy journey?” In all grand endeavors, all great bridges in life, we come across trolls that deter us from crossing. But this mythical character is what comes from within ourselves. And with that thought, I realized what my troll was—fear of a new beginning. Enough planning and preparation. Enough talking about it. I left behind 2 jobs. Now it’s time to act. I had spent all morning stalling, and avoiding my departure. This fear of a new beginning. This troll at the start line. Here’s the painted troll, I was facing it. My perception of it. My creation of it. But procrastination tastes so sweet in the coffee slowly drizzled with agave and embellished with a dash of cinnamon. Wait! Looking into my cup where cinnamon specs cling to the edge of the cup. Here I am, indulging on it. Stop.

I chug the coffee. Grab my paints and go. Heck, the day is still young. I better start something.

 

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