I’m in the back of the ‘71 Toyota Hilux, she’s sputtering up a muddy road, we are sweating, all 21 of us crammed together in compressed open air body odor. The chicken has just escaped the brown withered hands of the woman across from me, as she desperately clutches six other cluckers. We are doing about 20 going uphill, the chicken is on the metal edge about to jump to certain freedom and probably certain death. Por favor, ayuda! She calls out. I’m her last chance. I haven’t held a bird since I was six when my parents bought me a parakeet that I named Tweety (yes, highly original), but I don’t hesitate, lunge out to grab the poor bird by the neck. One motion, quick swing, and before the bird knows it, she is back with the others. The woman shares a toothless grin with me, her gringo hero of the moment.
This is every day in Honduras. If I don’t get a ride, I walk, I sing Jimmy Cliff to myself, I wait at crossroads, I throw rocks, I eat peanut butter, I walk, I sweat, I get picked up, I work for my ride, move wood, move rocks, move tiles, rides aren’t always free, but I’m free. No one is forcing me to do any of this. I have a vague schedule checking up on public health volunteers. Sometimes I show up in the middle of the night, soaked from thunderstorms, not a soul ever knows where I am, not even me. My bed is on my back, a Go Kot, I can assemble it in 4 minutes, can sleep anywhere, and do, on floors, in sheds, with fleas, near dogs, under farting people in hammocks, all true. By the end of summer, I’ve lost twenty pounds, light, agile, free.
Tag: Hiking
Beauty In The Drive
before my severe bulging disc-osteophyte i never understood rv’s, those people who drive through the grand tetons without actually hiking the trails, like the 90% of yosemite visitors who don’t leave the paved paths, but as my anterolisthesis continues to slip, i view life differently, i now see wheelchairs & sitting people, i never assume anything anymore, i used to think non-walkers were lazy, that not standing was weak, why drive when you can run? walk? bike? now i cry when watching documentaries about disabled people, my people, my new story, i used to hike miles and miles with my son, now i barely walk at all, but i can still drive down highway 1, pacific coast, alongside surf, crashing waves, seals, pelicans, whales, you get the drift, the past is over, no time machine is coming to get me, like fugazi said, you can’t be what you were, so you better start being, just what you are, so now i drive, there is beauty in the drive.
Disabled
spondylolisthesis, 4 to 6% of the adult population have it, including me, i want to tell it that i was a once a runner, on trails, on hills, even won a race-in my age category, and don’t forget the hikes, everywhere, usually no less than 10 miles at a time, but it doesn’t care, it likes that i’m 50 and more vulnerable now, i assume that it wants to take over my spine, degenerate me day by day, and there we go, my mindfulness in freefall, pessimism taking over one breath at a time, i thought meditation was preparation for age and lack of movement, but eight hours lying on one’s back on a rug can crush the unenlightened, but to quote frou frou, there’s beauty in the breakdown, going on 13 weeks and yes, more patient, yes, more empathetic, yes, i’m here writing more, so i can’t walk for more than 8 minutes at a time, but i can be a better human being, i’m trying…
Ganier Ridge
Autumn at Bledsoe Creek
I regularly go on “Adventure Days” with my son in areas surrounding Nashville. A great one is: hike the High Ridge Trail at Bledsoe Creek State Park, have lunch at Swaney Swift’s on the Square (in Gallatin), visit Towne Square Records & Comics, then get ice cream at The Ice Cream Social.
Links here: https://tnstateparks.com/parks/bledsoe-creek https://www.swaneyswifts.com/ https://townesquarerecordsandcomics.com/ https://icecreamsocialreviews.com/
Davy Crockett State Park
Potomac River
Donaldson Run
This is the creek that I could walk to from my childhood home. I would regularly hike it down to the Potomac River.
Fiery Gizzard Trail
Daniel W. Polk 