Life Spoke

What a nice thing to say.

I've been worried about taking this time off; feeling self discipline mock me for not being out there. Tracey has encouraged me to take more time to enjoy Colorado and friends. My friends wanted me to hang out as long as I could. Now I'm doing it and a whole other set of people think it's a good idea too. Reassurance. Helps to numb the driven ambition, squash the guilt.

So on Wednesday I sat around on the computer. That took most of the day. Afternoon saw Chris and I at REI. I exchanged all my leaking water bottles and had them look at the stove. They ran it on white gas, which typically burns better than gasoline. Regardless of the cleaner fuel, the stove wasn't top form. The simple answer is there is something wrong with the stove. They exchanged it for a brand new stove and will deal with the manufacturer for me.

Dropped the bike off at the REI bicycle shop as well.

Around town running errands, getting maps at the AAA office. Steaks and potatoes for dinner then up to Boulder to hang with Chris De Houst. Hadn't seen him in a few years, fun to catch up.

We stayed Wednesday night in Boulder and went over to see the Neptune Mountaineering shop in the morning. Lots of cool antique climbing equipment on display right next to the top of the line new stuff. Cool shop.

Outta Boulder. Chris dropped me at REI and I met George Betz, the bike shop manager. He was just putting the rear wheel on after changing the freewheel hub. There was a phantom clicking that couldn't be identified so they replaced the part. It was a simple but uncommon part for a small bike shop to carry. If it developed into a bigger problem along the way my only option would likely have been to get a whole new wheel. Nip that one in the bud and save a few hundred dollars.

I got lost in Denver and eventually found my way back to Chris and Kelli's apartment. I sat over maps laying out a route to the Chicago area (see directions below). Nebraska, Iowa and Illinois have bicycle maps online. The maps show traffic volume and shoulder width. I used these to help steer me onto good biking roads.

I transferred a bunch of music to my MP3 player. I made Thai curry with tofu and fresh veggies for dinner. It was the first time I'd made a curry from scratch and was surprised how well it turned out. So were Chris and Kelli.

Friday morning I went with Chris to the Colorado School of Mine in Golden. He went to class while I poked around the library, printing up the bike maps for Nebraska and Iowa. I also found books on rock hounding and mineral identification.

When he was done with class we went to the hardware store; bought a pick-mattock and a shovel. We drove out to Idaho Springs and drove up a canyon to some old mines. A few hours of scrambling around digging through mine tailing piles. We found some gold flakes adhered to a quartz vein but no crystals or interesting minerals.

We drove to another site and were given permission to root through waste rock piles. There we found pyrite with galena on soft orange mine waste. It was fun to be up in the mountains with my friend, digging through rocks rather than climbing them. Chris and I had been rock and ice climbing together for seven years until I moved to Oregon with Tracey. We needed some time out in the moutains to let the conversations flow at a normal pace.

Back into Denver where we met up with John. He was one of Brian's best friends before he passed away. It was good to see John and talk about Brian. About the memorial service that I missed last June. John lived with Brian off and on for a few years. They shared a 17 foot travel trailer. They lived together in it one winter near Crested Butte. John is one of the few people who have lived with Brian in his bare-bones style. They had no heat all winter long and bathed in the frozen river down the hill from their camp. They framed houses that winter; scrap wood fires to melt the ice between the 2-by-4's and knocking ice off other boards with hammers. Hard.

Chris De Houst also drove down from Boulder to hang out. It was great to be surrounded by them all.

Saturday morning, Chris De Houst and I got caught up on the past few years. He left Rutgers and spent a year in Davis, CA with other friends of ours. Then he spent 9 months in Alaska as a kayak guide and bike mechanic. From there he went to Southern California to teach. Then up to the Wind River Mountains in WY to be a backcountry ranger for a few months. From there to Telluride to ski/board in the mountains. He spent a year in Vermont studying law. Now he's in Boulder studying computer science. De Houst has always been a seeker of knowledge and he's following his path where it takes him. I admire all the places he's been and the things he's done along the way.

After breakfast Chris, Kelli and I headed to Golden. We hiked up North Table Mountain to an old quarry. They used to make curb blocks from the basalt cliffs here. There are a few piles of them in this photo. We hunted around and found zeolite crystals in great abundance. There are pockets and veins of the crystals in the hard basaltic parent rock. The mattocks was no match for the hard rock so we settled on collecting specimens from the loose stones that lay all over the quarry.

Back into Denver. We hauled the bike and bags to Chris' truck and drove up to Ft. Collins. Amy and Mike had a group of musician friends over last night. It was fun to hear the bluegrass; fiddle, banjo, guitar, bass, and mandolin. Amy and Mike both play banjo. Together they are a fun, talented group of musicians.

Amy and I talked for hours by the small fire in the backyard. It was really therapeutic for me to fill her in on what Tracey and I had done for the past year in Eugene. Telling the story of living with my grandparents for six months then moving out and my grandmother dying five months later. It helped me put things in perspective.

I hadn't realized why I was so impacted when my grandmother died. The bonds we built while living with her and my grandfather sank deep roots into my soul. I didn't know my grandparents very well as a kid. I grew up in Jersey and visited them only infrequently. Then Tracey and I were immersed in their world for a half year.

I felt a huge amount of guilt about moving out of their house. They really relished our company and help in keeping the house clean, the gardens tidy. I felt we had abandoned them. Then my grandmother's pancreatic cancer became virulent. She was diagnosed with Type II diabetes. She lost weight rapidly. If we stayed at the house, would the psychological buttress of our presence helped to ward those things off? Slow roasted mental anguish.

In mid-April her oncologist gave her two weeks to live. Her liver was failing. She became jaundiced. Yellowish-green skin covered her body and her cheeks sunk as if she was always sucking a straw. She looked exactly the same as Brian did when I visited him in his state of liver failure right before he died.

Two weeks after the diagnosis I sat with her until one or two in the morning while my aunt and uncle rested in the other bedrooms in the house. I gave her a dose of morphine at the appropriate time. I held the water to her lips and she feebly sucked in. She mumbled something about, "Take mit away." "It's OK grandma, I love you, it will go away." I wasn't sure what she wanted to be taken away, but with cold hands and shallow irregular breathing I knew everything would be taken away soon.

I went home but couldn't sleep. I was back at the house at 8am. She passed away a few minutes later. I was with her all the way out to the hearse.

Two months earlier Tracey and I had flown back to Long Island for her grandmother's funeral. Barbara Lickel died of lung and brain cancer in February. We got back to Eugene and found that our friend and neighbor, Jordan Duke had died in the apartment next to ours. He had been dead in the apartment for three or four days before his parents found his body. A massive heart attack at 22 years old.

Brian, Barbara, Jordan and Grandma. Less than a year.

A couple weeks after Grandma died my friend and mentor, Dan Harrington from work, got word from his oncologist. A couple months left with his cancer. He retired and cashed in his retirement fund.

I became depressed. I thought some pretty dark things for a while. Death. Cancer. Wallowing in Eugene without direction. Few regular climbing partners, few positive outlets. Riding through Wyoming last week I realized that I had been depressed during that time.

This trip is more than a fundraiser. It's more than helping society and memorializing incredible people. I needed this trip to get my own life in order. I needed purpose and direction. The distraction of people and a reason to contact them. Those interactions siphoned off the negatives and softened the experiences of death. Backfilling the space was crucial.

Until now, I hadn't acknowledged that I needed this trip for my own mental health. I don't think I realized how important it was for me to deal with death. Talking with Amy last night by the fire I began to understand. Hearing myself list the chain of events shown a bright light of understanding and for a moment it became clear.

I experienced death on an intense personal scale. I was adrift and this trip gave me the direction and intensity I needed.

Today is dreary the way a grey damp day can be. I'm tired. Four late nights of talking and enjoying the company of others. I'm going to sleep here in Ft. Collins today. I'm going to relax to
the sound of Amy and Mike's banjos in the other room. They're sitting there singing bluegrass songs, laughing and chatting in between while I write this.

You all said I would learn a lot about myself out here. What I didn't expect is that epiphanies come not when I'm alone on the road, but when I digest my thoughts in the company of others. I'm wide open right now. I'm looking forward to reflecting on these days in Colorado when I return to solitude tomorrow morning.

Lots of love,
Andrew

# posted by Andrew Bascue @ 9:32 AM