MPW | BLOG

Back in the late 80′s I went skydiving with four other friends of mine. 3 guys and 2 gals all jumped that day. The lead up to the jump itself was filled with a day of training and then an adrenaline filled leap into the great unknown. The wind and the noise around the open airplane door was thunderous. The exit was violent and disorienting (apparently my pack hit the back of the door and I was upside down for a second). Then the chute deploy was equally as violent. It was so intense that by comparison the slow drifting feeling of the open parachute was strangely soothing. I was just hanging there in the quiet and the calm. Sinking slowly, the only sense of motion was my ears popping every once in a while to inform me that I was loosing altitude. A strange and wonderful stillness. It was only as the last three hundred feet or so did a sense of downward motion begin. Even though I had jumped by myself from an altitude of 3000 feet it was only just above the tree tops that I started to feel high above the ground. The ground rushing up to meet me.

It is only here on Manitoulin Island heading south to the ferry do I feel far from home.

I have been wondering why I have felt no anxiety at all during this whole trip. Even when I was being pelted with heavy rain and wind while straining to keep my motorcycle upright in the mud and ruts of the Taylor highway in Alaska, the remotest place I have ever been. A simple calm focus would descend on me and I would just get on with it.
Now this is in stark contrast to many years of anxiety attacks I suffered from in the late 90′s. Back then I set out to rid myself of the malady (without drugs btw) and I have a sneaking suspicion that I may have succeeded.

I think that my recent uprooting from the many things I thought of as grounded has brought the edges of ‘home’ right up to my skin. I never felt far from anything. ‘Home’ followed me like a (non theistic) halo. Like a glow. I always felt home.

Yet, now with life returning to the city, I feel a tug of another home… family and friends. A gentle conflict. A feeling of being far away… a gentle anxiety… very gentle.

North shore Lake Superior.
I am following a pocket of sunshine heading east. Storms far ahead and behind.
Many gorgeous moments up here… Wow.
Gonna try to get past the Sault today.

Even though I am mostly thinking of my mom I will keep writing about thoughts and observations.
What the hell, eh?

I have often described rock climbing to non climbers as what is 18 inches in front of your nose and what is just above your knees. It is only when you pause and rest (on a ledge perhaps) do you then see the height you’ve gained and the mess you have gotten yourself into.
(I miss climbing… back injury has kept me away for close to a year.)

Driving the plains and prairies one can see great distances, tending to focus ones eyes far away.
In the mountains the earth curves upward in great massifs to allow one to see distant details closer.
The highways of northern Ontario between Baudette and Fort Frances remind me of rock climbing. There is much less sense of the vastness around you. The trees and cliffs of the Canadian shield are so close to the roads that it sometimes feels like driving in a tunnel.
Lakes, lakes, lakes break through the foliage to the left and right. Heavy rain and gray don’t diminish the beauty of it all.

My rain gear seems to work well but my boots now leak and my feet are properly soaked. Cest la vie.

An e-mail from home has me concerned for my mothers health.
I am at least two days away from home if not three.

Just spoke with my brother Brian and feel a little more at ease. Cell coverage has been spotty but wi-fi seems to me everywhere so I asked for my sister to keep me posted.
(Thanks guys xo)

All highways have merged into one for a while. “Civilization”, as Ted Simon calls it.

The last time I was here in Thunder Bay I was a Rheostatic.

Getting properly rained on in the province I call home.
Still many kilometers from home yet.

I have no cell coverage but lots of Internet. Boot up skype and I’ll try to call you.

I suppose I should describe the motorbike accident.
Essentially the bike was knocked over in a parking lot by a reversing car. The problem was that I was sitting on it.
I had started my machine and was duck walking it backwards out of my parking space at the motel. I came to a stop and was about to put it into first gear, turn sharply right and pull away when a car backed out of a parking spot perpendicular to mine and to my left. I was sitting still and I just noticed in my left peripheral vision the oncoming mass. I remember turning my head forward and lifting my left leg up hoping it would not be crushed between his back bumper and my engine. The impact was akin to a hit by an enormous angry linebacker. It sent me flying off to my right and the motorcycle landed hard on its right side too. Something had hit my left knee.
It hurt a lot. Helmet, jacket, gloves and boots all did their job but I was only wearing jeans (not my riding pants), so of course it was my knee (with no armor) that got hit. I had to roll around for a little while holding my knee before I crawled over to the almost upside down motorcycle and turned off the still running engine.
The fellow who hit me was a 24 year old french Albertan soldier heading off to CFB Borden in Ontario. This was only his second day of the road trip and his insurance ( which was valid ) was only for the month because he is shipping off to Kandahar in a few weeks.
Nice kid, I felt bad for him. I explained that his premium was gonna go up for the next three years and he said that he understood and,” took full responsibility”.
We waited for the police officer to create an accident report because we were both from out of province.
After we all parted I went to a clinic and had my knee looked at.
Scrapes but otherwise the doctor thought it seemed fine. At that point I agreed with him but would keep an eye on it over the next few days. I think it hit my handle bars as I was thrown over and was not crushed by the cars bumper.
The bike has very bad damage on its fairing and the turns signals had to be rebuilt with superglue.
So much for resale…

My time in Regina was very productive. I am looking forward to finishing this project in a few weeks back in Toronto. All the players really stepped up and it sounds great.
Jason and Erin’s new son is just crazy cute. I love babies. (Funny how I don’t have any myself)

Heading back out onto the highways systems of Saskatchewan and Manitoba I was both elated and spooked in equal measure. It felt so great at first but then I started feel sort of glum. I think the accident put some kind of spell on me for the first few hours. I felt a gentle sadness.
Hmmm.
What is this strange choice I’ve made and more so… how will I stop this once I get back to the city. As a lifestyle this is very addictive.
I realized later in the day that each mode, both social and solo are wonderful within their paradigms.
But…
It is the transition between them that is difficult.
By my second day of riding I was happy as a clam.
It’s almost like the earth and sky is this other friend of mine that is quietly waiting for me to leave the world of people so we can frolic together in the wind.

Rode along the small secondary highways of southern Saskatchewan and Manitoba with a short dog leg into northern Minnesota popping out into northern Ontario.
The feel and graphics of the Ontario government make it seem like I am already home. Yet I still have 2000 more km to go. Currenty my odometer reads 15,380 km so far. That’s a lot of one day at a time’s.
My plan is to flank the northern shore of Lake Superior and into Manitoulin Island. From there, a ferry to the tip of the Bruce Peninsula. Some of my motorcycle buddies are meeting me at Tobermory and we will camp and ride back as a group.