A few Pics

Me and Tonto






Me on Tonto
Dusty on Shy

Dos Stories

First of all: very sorry folks for the delay in updates.
It seems the working season has declared a free for all on free time: sleep, hike, ride, read, write, so much to do with so little time.
My deepest apologies.

Nevertheless, even in my silence... I have been busy.

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1. My first horsey ride (in a very long time):

"Maybe I should have started at the beginner level."
The thought barely existed before being immediately replaced.
"Too late now."
Joining the advanced group made sense at the time.
The front wrangler gave the signal to start loping and the riders ahead of me took off.

I tried my best to appear calm and confident.

A definate challenge considering my inner voice was doing an impressive impression of the Home Alone Scream.

Hands barnacled to the saddle horn, body bent forward, mouth set, teeth grit.

We were hoofin it.... fast.

I knew I had a rational sense in me somewhere because at that moment it was rather loudly insistent on my certain impending doom.

Sure, a possible outcome... but again, too late now.

The wind-press on my eyeballs reminded me of driving my motorcycle.
But this was no machine.
Machines don't huff and grunt, fart (a lot) and bite other machines, stumble, or spook at scary pieces of shit on the trail.
Horses do though.
Loveable, skittish, hilarious, and terrifying.

The heat from the working horse-muscles made my saddle hot... I could feel the huge lung bellows pump... hear the metal horseshoes pound and clack on rocks.
Yes indeed... I was hurtling forward atop a moving blacksmith shop.
Release the saddle horn, move with the rhythm, grin... I caught on. I got hooked.
Have been trying to ride a lot lately.
Last ride I was practicing my posting and totally sat on a testicle.
Yeah it hurt that bad... but everything still works, so don't worry.
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2. Solo Summit

Yeah, noon is a little late to start up a 5,000 foot ascent.
But I had slept in, and was going to climb Emmigrant anyway, dammit (a 10,900-ish ft. peak).

I had my bear spray, lunch, gps, and four bottles of water.
Hot day... the water was done by the summit.
Emigrant was a fairly strenuous hike with steep inclines on loose shale.
This meant that, until I got the hang of it, one step up slid me two steps back. That is unless I slipped off one of the dramatic drop offs skirting knife blade ridgelines... but that didn't happen.
The trick is baby steps.
There were at least six false summits.
Which means the inner monologue went something like this six friggin separate times:
" I can see it!
The TOP!
Almost there... pant* pant*... I did it!
[behind a rock the next false summit murderously reveals itself well above and beyond]
... shit."
But after 4 hours I made it.
The peak was very exposed, which unfortunately didn't mean much as the weather was perfect.
If you know me, you know I like a little rough weather or at least some wind at the top of a mountain.
A six hour solo hike, complete with a summit, is a wonderful thing. I highly recommend it.
I practically ran down the mountain, racing the setting sun and reached the car just as the light went out.
Shavin it close.
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Coming next:
Skinny dipping in Yellowstone

Bear Sighting

Finally happened.

I know you're supposed to stay away from bears...
but we were kinda excited so we ran toward it.
For pictures.
I will post them when I can.

Coarse and shiny black,
His coat seemed heavy
as it rolled with lumbering
paw steps.
Muzzle of gold,
he panted throught it.
Saw us and ran...
and didn't seem so heavy any more.
He nimbly bounced over the grass, head up...

right toward the softball field where Jenn was about to sit down and enjoy a cigarette.
A shriek and a rather impressive fence hurdle later,
Jenn was standing on top of Brittany's car
yelling if the bear was gone yet.

Sorry bout that Jenn.

After a few days and a few mischievous bear visits,
the head chef made an announcement as follows:
Now we all know there's been a big black bear hangin around,
so lets step up the cleaning
and try to clear the outside grill as best we can.
We don't want any incidents with the guests.

I love working in a place where "bear safety" is an agenda in staff meetings.

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I drank a Fernet con Coca at a bar in Montana.
The taste,
bitter sharp and herby.
The buzz,
heat emitting vines crawling up arteries to flower in my brain.

The whole experience was an amputation.
I was in Argentina again,
but all I could see were cowboy hats and glowing gridirons above them.
I was suspended between two times and two places.

I am no stranger to the paradox of position:

The most random insignificant stimuli
feeling rather ambitious
passes through its choice of my sensory organs
and arrives in my brain.

This is where most good little insignificant stimuli
are assigned a predetermined meaning and promptly shelved.
Not our little rabble-rouser.

Yelling "stick em up"
He holds up my Memory Bank
and high tails it
to the forefront of my consciousness.
Where, after an epic gun battle,
our outlaw goes down in a fiery ball of glory...
spilling his stolen memories before my eyes.
Becoming a legend.

This is why a smell,
rice ready for harvest.
A laugh,
forced guffaw or tinkling cascade.
A sight,
setting sun glint on the tiny-veined wings of millions of insects in a grass field...

Can each hijack my static here-ness
to another time and place.
No one can see when this happens.
You can never be prepared for it,
You can never force it.
but you can ride it.

And so I call myself wind...
with my brothers and sisters like me.
We are always going somewhere.

Contact Info and Videos on Ice

As requested folks, my contact info in Montana.

For Mail:

PO Box 1219 Emigrant, MT 59027

For Packages:

480 Big Creek Rd. Emigrant, MT 59027

I had to taste the ground to make sure it was salty.

Ever wonder what life looks like for a dog chasing a frisbee?

Coatis... the South American Raccoon. Watch out, they bite.

Iguazu: these falls in Argentina were mesmerizing. Like the Niagra of South America.

See how the jungle wraps the falls?

Rainbow by the falls.

Boat ride up the river to the falls.

The Boat ride under the falls.

Fear and Loathing

Below is a short piece I wrote in the airport, shortly after being overcome by sudden anxiety. The wave of terror passed as soon as it arrived, but it left an impression on me.
This is for anyone who has ever grappled with fear.

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A heart cramp.
Cool prick of a vaccine needle in some vague muscle
in some vague spot
in your torso.

It wallops into a tinkling crescendo...
the sound of an acme anvil dropped on a pyramid of beer bottles.
Jump Spasm.
You realize that there is something fragile in grave danger...
in your gut.

Creeping terrification.
Bland taste of ignorance.
Static panic:
Doubt.

Unbeknowst to you.
Tiny pranksters TP'd the tree limb-like tubes in your lungs.
Someone throws a maltov cocktail down your throat.
Don't choke on the smoke.

It's a good thing you are well practiced in dealing with the paralysis of fear.
Otherwise you wouldn't be able to wiggle your big toe.
Wiggle, toe...
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I think I'm a cowboy, but I'm not...
I'm actually a housekeeper, dishwasher, driver, and waiter.
I did learn to dance the two-step in cowboy boots though.
So I'd say I'm heading in the right direction.

This is a high end guest ranch.
People pay more to stay here for two weeks than I did for my whole trip.

It stunned me like a coco butter smack to the face.
I have seen poverty...
Families shuffling through garbage.
I have been poverty...
stretching every last euro to the max.
Surviving off ham and bread and beer.

Some people live very differently.
Some people leave half of a $300 bottle of wine unfinished.

Don't get me wrong,
They are very nice... not uppity or snotty.
But the fact that they exist in the same world as the other extreme...
rattles me.
Somehow between Spain and here,
I must have entered a wormhole.
Too dazed and confused for loathing,
but I wouldn't know what to loathe anyway.
Who's fault is it...
the sprawling wasteland between really-haves and really-have-nots?

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Setting is epic.

The mountains reign here.
Commanding is their presence,
be it bright or brooding.
They bristle with evergreens and aspens tremble at their site.
Deliver down cloud swept frowns
or hawkish sunny grins,
on their back dwelling people-ants.
All we do is beneath them.

And the stars...
wow
It's like someone found a plug,
and singularly tiny-spark-summons
the building buzz of a million baseball stadium lights.
They drown out the black background.
They drown out words.

We are remote, and Wild is not far off.
Brittany has already seen several bears and two (yes TWO) Mountain Lions.
I have yet to see a bear here, but am repeatedly assurred that I will soon.

I like my coworkers.
We knock back brews and trade tales in the lodge with the guests at night...
stretching out beside sassy backtalking fireplaces.
Last night, after a brief tutorial from one of the wranglers...
I attempted and completed a rafter shot.
Ankle locked boots and hanging upside down from a crossbeam in the rafters.
Just picture my shit eating grin the other way around while shooting liquer UP my throat, and you'll have the picture.

The kitchen is top notch.
Manned and Womanned by golden characters,
it cranks out miracles.
I learned how to make pasta today.
That's a miracle itself.

Other things I hope to learn while here:
How to dance better (aka how to twirl the ladies till they don't know which way is up).
How to fly fish.
How to gallop on a horse.
How to hunt.
How to chop wood like a pro.

Pictures coming soon.

Cowboy Nate

It has been quite a ride.

Current location is now Mountain Sky Guest Ranch in Montana. About 25 miles north of Yellowstone National Park. I apologize for not alerting everyone to my stop in Durham, but I was only there for 10 hours and really hadn't slept in two days.

My last night in Barcelona, I stayed up all night so as not to sleep through my flight. The night before I had slept in the park for maybe 3 hours. And the night after, I was in my old bed in durham, but still unable to sleep because I had to pack. So long story short, it was a really really long trip.

Some really surreal moments in the past week.
Coming back to NC, and actually feeling like I had a home. Matt and Diana had my bed made. Weary dirty traveler that I was, I had to smile at the sight of a room with only ONE bed... as opposed to the snoring/humping/partying circus rooms in many a crowded hostal. It was actually kind of a shock.
I awoke in the night in a cold sweat, breathing hard... sitting bolt upright.
I thought I was hallucinating. The room was completely dark, and my sleep encrusted brain was vein bulgingly trying to remember what country I was in, and whether or not I had a plane or train to catch. Momentary panic was replaced by a hard breath out. Scarily Refreshing.

I had plenty to worry about... even though I stubbornly refused to. Aer Lingus had lost my bag AGAIN. This time in Boston. I just got it back yesterday, barely put back together and missing a stuff sack of dirty clothes. Apparently when a bag is left for a certain amount of time with no lost bag report filed (I couldn't file until the next day at my final destination)... they open it.

Unceremoniously would be putting it lightly. But that's ok, cause they found my cell and Josh's number and therefore, got me my bag.

But why go through all that trouble if you're just going to fuck it up in the end? My bag was practically open when Fed Ex brought it. I'm surprised more wasn't missing than just my stuff sack.

I am looking forward to calling them up. For those of you that pray... remember the poor soul that has to take my call. And remember forgiveness for me... for all the things I will probably say about their mother. The flip flops are off, and I'm feelin slappy.

Another surreal moment...

Riding the train from Valencia to Barcelona a good 6 hours after La Tomatina, I decided to scratch my ear. Lo and behold, I discovered... and fingered out a giant chunk of dried tomato ... one in each ear actually. To others it must have looked like I was wearing some kind of organic Buetooth. I sat there, staring at it, and wondered if I would ever have another moment quite like that one.

If you think that's disgusting, you should have seen the shower water around my ankles when I finally bathed with soap... yes, a day later, back in NC. The water was a dirty pink. I knew I was going to have to be tomato ridden on the plane due to the time crunch, but I didn't realize quite how saturated I was. Could you imagine trying to explain my fruit smuggling to customs?

All the tomatoes are out of the dreads now, but occasionally a seed stowaway will still show itself. I want to plant one of them.

The next day was quite possibly the longest of my entire trip. I was too excited about my destination... and two excited about the person I was going to see.

The road has been lonely... as I knew it would be. I knew parts would be extremely difficult and parts would be rapturous. And I knew I would crack open a few more coconuts of reality and life. One such realization has led me to Montana.
And my trusty wind has blown me here.

I have returned to the States to pick up a partner in crime and continue my adventure. The plan to date is to reline the old bank account until the end of October and then road trip somewhere in the US. I want to be back in NC for Thanksgiving.
I have a tradition that I will not miss. Nate's Turkey will be returning this year... accomplanied by plenty of spiked cider. All are invited. Chela... bring the pigs feet.

I have so much to write about the shock of being where I am, doing what I am doing. It will come later, as this is already a long post.

Mainly I wanted to let everyone know that I am still alive and that I am in Montana.

Check out the link for Mountain Sky to see some pictures of the ranch. Below are some of Lauren's pictures from Paris.

A toast from the best men.

Remember the story about loosing Tai and Yin and then finding them as they tried to pick my pockets? Lauren caught the moment of reunion.
Of course, I had to try to climb the Eiffel Tower.

Yin and I chugged a beer before racing each other down the stairs.



City Lights

My friend's women make sure nobody's left out in the City of Romance.

Loner moments speak the loudest to me. But there is nothing like a good companion

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La Tomatina Video

Not my video but yes, I was somewhere in the middle of that.