I woke up before dawn, but I couldn't find my boots so I put my shoes on instead. I loaded my backpack onto the motorcycle, strapping it on with a cable and padlock, and headed for the Columbia Gorge. The temperature was in the 40s, and I wore several layers to stay warm. The roar of the wind was hypnotic. About 3 hours into the ride, I started falling asleep. I was going around 80 mph on this motorcycle in traffic, and I would drift off to sleep for a split second and find myself crossing the line next to the ditch. This happened a few times. I parked at a meadow on the river, and took a nap under a tree. After my nap, I smoked my last chunk of opium. Felt much better and awake. Finally. I had elevenses. It was a granola bar, a few hand-fulls of blackberries which I picked at the meadow, and a bottle of "muscle milk" drink.
Used the outdoor toilet. The plop of my foot long turd disturbed a swarm of flies which had been resting on bits of soggy toilet paper and poo floating in the sludge sludge pit a few feet under the toilet. Many of them flew out of the toilet hole and began brushing my butt and then moved on and buzzed against my face. I almost ran out of there, my pants half down. I scrubbed my face in the river, put some loud music on my mp3 player, and got back on the bike.
When I used to drive a car 10 years ago, the falling asleep while driving thing had never happened to me. Seems like a new condition. Maybe I have narcolepsy or maybe it's WDs.
...Edit...
Waiting the dope man
I was getting very anxious about not having any opium for the next several days of my motorcycle trip. Finally overcome by the sense of dread, I decided to phone my friend "Rafi Shimer" (not his real name). He was a heroin connection I had a few years ago while I lived in Portland. I hate Mexican Brown heroin, but that's all I usually ever see on the West Coast and that's what he had.
So Rafi agreed to meet me at a spot on Corbett St. in Portland. I pulled off the superhighway (I-5), tried to figure out the city's parking for that street, and went to Ross Island Grocery (not the spot where I was to meet him but near it) to wait for him. I ordered a coffee - they have good coffee (Stumptown, IIRC) -- and checked my email and worked on my blog. I sat at the front window so I could watch for his car. He was taking a while so I began studying my French vocabulary and useful phrases note cards. I have 2 months to learn enough French to function in Paris. A few weeks ago, I got a job offer from a prestigious French academic institute. The project is interesting, and the group uses English for work because English is the common (international) language of science.
Finally Rafi pulled up in front of the store. I got in and we drove me around the neighborhood for a few minutes.
Rode another 6 hours until I was too exhausted to drive the motorcycle another mile. That made it 12 hours on a motorcycle total today, and I checked into a beach motel in Weldport. The hot shower felt fantastic. This was the first real shower I've had in months. Then I smoked all the Mexican brown that I had bought and tried to drink a beer. The first sip of beer made me sick so I put that away to work on my blog.
Used the outdoor toilet. The plop of my foot long turd disturbed a swarm of flies which had been resting on bits of soggy toilet paper and poo floating in the sludge sludge pit a few feet under the toilet. Many of them flew out of the toilet hole and began brushing my butt and then moved on and buzzed against my face. I almost ran out of there, my pants half down. I scrubbed my face in the river, put some loud music on my mp3 player, and got back on the bike.
When I used to drive a car 10 years ago, the falling asleep while driving thing had never happened to me. Seems like a new condition. Maybe I have narcolepsy or maybe it's WDs.
...Edit...
Waiting the dope man
I was getting very anxious about not having any opium for the next several days of my motorcycle trip. Finally overcome by the sense of dread, I decided to phone my friend "Rafi Shimer" (not his real name). He was a heroin connection I had a few years ago while I lived in Portland. I hate Mexican Brown heroin, but that's all I usually ever see on the West Coast and that's what he had.
So Rafi agreed to meet me at a spot on Corbett St. in Portland. I pulled off the superhighway (I-5), tried to figure out the city's parking for that street, and went to Ross Island Grocery (not the spot where I was to meet him but near it) to wait for him. I ordered a coffee - they have good coffee (Stumptown, IIRC) -- and checked my email and worked on my blog. I sat at the front window so I could watch for his car. He was taking a while so I began studying my French vocabulary and useful phrases note cards. I have 2 months to learn enough French to function in Paris. A few weeks ago, I got a job offer from a prestigious French academic institute. The project is interesting, and the group uses English for work because English is the common (international) language of science.
Finally Rafi pulled up in front of the store. I got in and we drove me around the neighborhood for a few minutes.
Rode another 6 hours until I was too exhausted to drive the motorcycle another mile. That made it 12 hours on a motorcycle total today, and I checked into a beach motel in Weldport. The hot shower felt fantastic. This was the first real shower I've had in months. Then I smoked all the Mexican brown that I had bought and tried to drink a beer. The first sip of beer made me sick so I put that away to work on my blog.