FlagLive :: Personal Narrative Traveling Essays

FlagLiveIts a romantically beautiful summer evening in northern California, the heat of the day having passed, the sky and earth echoing brilliant colourize against each other as if making love. Im alone, riding my bicycle through a redwood forest on my way to a campsite, where my riding crony and I had agreed to meet. Towering above like giant sentinels, the trees feel alive, welcoming, as if the spirits of the forest are ceremoniously receiving home a wasteful son. I roll into camp, and Fred (my traveling companion) is already there. Its only been about six hours, but were as happy to see each other as if it had been a few days. Our campsite, nestled in the forest, is next to a meadow, where elk feed at their leisure. We settle in and started cooking our usual pot of stew, which usually consists of grains, vegetables, and tinned meat - whatever we found, and liked, on the grocery store shelves. The days ride included a series of steep climbs, so we were wondering how our Britis h friends (one a savant from Oxford, the other from Bath), also making the same southward trek from Oregon to California, had fared. True to form, they roll into camp just as supper is almost ready, this time with cardinal 40-ounce bottles of malt liquor and a bottle of tequila, but little or no food. Fred and I are happy to see them. Theyve become a ancestry of inspiration, for which we are happy to provide scraps of nourishment. Typically, theyd roll into camp around 700 or so, with nothing but their bicycles, their tent, and alcohol, and theyd get down to occupation - the business of having fun. Theyd start drinking, or fire up a J, or both. Then theyd wander around the various campsites, introducing themselves to anyone and everyone, partying the night, if possible. In the meantime, Fred had already met two other riders, whom wed invited to supper. youthful graduates of Boston College, they became known to us over the next few days (they were also traveling the same route) as Watch Girl and Chocolate Detective. As the stew cooked, the party was on. Ilana (Chocolate Detective) asked us why we slept in separate tents. We told her that if we didnt, wed get on each others nerves. She shot back, Your two tents (Youre too tense) Bam.