Monday, 26 September 2016

Dodged That One!

Computer is back!  Miracle!

Or, ok, not really an actual miracle, but they only had it a couple of days and the "issue" was covered by Apple so all it cost me was the diagnostic charge and couple of days.  So happy.  And relieved.

There were a couple of days this week where I wasn't sure how my bank account was going to survive.  Because I'm already in a lot of hot water with the van stuff and then the computer went and I thought I might need to get a new (or at least gently used "new") one and then my car went in for a checkup and I was half convinced it was going to be deathly ill but then my car was fine and my computer was fine and I backed up my system and phew.  I really came out on top of things this week.  Thank you, whoever!

So, yeah.... computer is back in my possession and my fingers are so much happier to be typing on a keyboard rather than a phone screen.

Yay for easy, inexpensive fixes! 

(PS  Back up your computer, k?)

Friday, 23 September 2016

Itsy Bitsy (Screen)

So I'm typing this with voice recognition on my phone. It's a little bit better than trying to type on my phone with my fingers and thumbs, but it's still weird.

 For those of you who don't read comments or didn't read the comments in the last post or two, my computer completely died two nights ago and is in the shop. I don't currently have a replacement or stand in computer, just my phone.

 Because of the timeline of me being away and all that entailed, I was going to back up my computer but didn't....  So here's hoping they can recover the last month's worth of photographs.

 It's strange the things you take for granted when you have a computer and access to the Internet. It's also strange how you tend to forget passwords when your computer usually automatically signs you in. Sigh.

 I thought using voice recognition might be a good way to write but I really don't like it! So that's gonna be all for now and cross all sorts of fingers and things for an easy fix and a fast computer return.

Wednesday, 21 September 2016


Hello "Dark at 7:40 pm" how are you?

Can't say I've missed you at all. 

*Stomps off, pouting*

Tuesday, 20 September 2016

Writer's Self Talk Exposed, You'll Never Believe What Happens Next!

Part of my conundrum in trying to write about the travel portion of my trip is that in remembering the trip down, I feel like I lose part of the drama of the trip back. 

Connor, when I messaged him from the hotel room I was stuck in messaged back that the trip down was easy, it was just a difficult trip back.  I said no.  No.  The trip down was awful.  The trip back was worse.

I had thought I would start by telling you about the day I left playa, but then yesterday I started writing about the week or so before I left and I just let that happen.  Now I can go forward from there... talk through the week down... or I can skip right to the day I left Black Rock City.  And then go backwards.

It's odd to talk about how to talk about things but I suppose since I started where I did, I should continue going forth from there.

Plus, how crooked is this photo when you stop to look at it?  Very.  *scratches head*

Monday, 19 September 2016

Really, Really Awful

I feel like I curved my way through Summer.  There was a lot.  From Spring on, there was a lot and I wasn't particularly comfortable.

But I did what I could.  And I made my way inexorably towards the end of Summer... which for a few years now, has meant Burning Man.

This year was stressful.  Incredibly so.

There were many many times I felt it was best to just not go.  But I just kept moving forwards so that I wasn't cutting myself off from whatever might work out.

And the vehicle situation did not help at all.

I don't remember what I wrote about here, but hindsight tells me it's better for me not to just blindly trust people to carry all my eggs in their basket.  And for me to not be so concerned about bothering someone who is doing me a favour.  (I want to put quotation marks around those words but am resisting that desire.)

Burning Man opened on the 28th this year.  I was going to leave town on the 19th.  Travel slowly but surely along the coast down towards Nevada.  Going very slowly, because I'd never travelled by myself and we (Jason and I) weren't sure how many hours worth I'd be comfortable or enjoy doing a day so we planned for less than three.  (Except on the last day or two when there's not much to do besides keep going... plus we figured by then I'd be excited and wanting to arrive.)

(Repeating what I think I've blogged before) By the start of August, I still hadn't heard from the fellow who was finding me a van to take down.  (The fellow I'd given money to and who had found two vans that turned out be lemons.)  Jason had started working on possible backup plans but I was very much in panic mode.  Which tends to freeze and therefore incapacitate me.  It was bad.

I called buddy, he said he'd get on it.  Time passed.  Somewhere around the 15th, he had a van.  I started to adjust plans to maybe leave a bit later and take a shorter trip down.  I was going to be arriving on the Saturday the 17th since I was volunteering and blah blah blah one day early entry.

The van wasn't released to buddy.  I didn't know what to do.  A week passed.  Nothing.  It passes the day I had intended to leave.  I am panicking for reasons.  Many.

Jason finds an old camper van he wants me (us) to look at.  I'm feeling pretty screwed at this point.  We go look.  It's old.  And big.  I am not comfortable with it at all.  Someone else shows up wanting to buy it.  I feel stuck and pressured (I HAVE NO WAY TO GET THERE!  AND I HAVE TO GO!) so I buy it even though I try to drive it up the road and hate it and don't feel safe and comfortable and can't afford to buy another van.

We buy it.  We get possession of it on Monday.  (I was going to leave three days ago... re-jig travel plans.)  It is awesome in some ways and not in others.  No one who sells it to us (family and their Dad and brother who'd helped maintain it) feel it's in good enough condition to "get that far and back"  Jason feels it can.  I feel whatever slightly less than "horrified" is.  Terrified?  Utterly frightened?  So not ok with this?

Jason goes to town trying to get the van in as good shape as possible.  I keep trying to push the driving so I can still not drive too many hours a day... maybe I can leave Wednesday?  I book ferries.  Jason does what he can to get a mechanic friend to help him look stuff over.  They are happy with what they see.  I am not.  The license plate has no lights... they try to fix it, they can't.  The windows are sealed shut... this is not a good thing.  There is no radio.  The steering wheel is sideways.  The blinkers don't work, nor does the horn.  No one's sure about the electrical system.  I learn things that I don't really quite understand... like... solenoids.  (Did I even spell that right?  Things to do with batteries in cars?)

Jason is in charge here and I'm just wielding the VISA while trying to keep some sort of budget in mind.  New battery, ok, I'm down with things that will make it work better.  Meanwhile his truck has a major brake system meltown and he loses it and I try to help by offering to pay for parts or something and I just want all this to go away and stop and this is nowhere near fun and I don't feel ok.  Oh, and it wasn't a nice feeling to be in his (old) truck when the brakes started doing the bad thing and I just keep thinking of how I should not be taking this old van all the way to Burning Man.  This is so not a good idea.  At all.

Jason insists on things I have no desire to argue with, but what's left of my meager savings is slowly, frighteningly falling away.  New tires.  Ok, fine.  Safety first, yes please.  And the tire guys say the brakes seem fine (although the back one was impossible to get to but yeah) and suggest we get it lubed before the trip down to the desert.

Again, I know little about vehicles so trust Jason (and friends) to their smarts to keep me safe.  I'd planned (re-planned) to leave Thursday morning (after booking Wednesday's ferry and missing it...) but Jason insists he wants to take it in for oil change and lube.  I get so freaked out Thursday morning that I dry heave from nerves.  Never done that before.  This is bad.  I don't see how I can do this, and I don't feel comfortable but I don't see a way out.

Jason tells me I don't have to do it but I feel like I do (signed up for lots of volunteer shifts and work and feel like I now "have" to go... plus I said I would... and sort of set myself that task and damn... this is awful.)  Jason also tells me he's not comfortable or confident with the van and me driving it.

Great.  Now I feel like I'm going to die.  Literally.  Not in that dramatic emotional way but I actually feel like I am doing something dumb and unsafe.

Oh, and Jason also wants to get the solar set up.  With an inverter he found.  (And we had a massive fight because I kept asking questions to clarify how it all worked and he felt this was me not listening and we had to try to stay calm and explain that this was how I learned and ugh... it was the worst week followed by a week so awful we both probably should have stopped.)  And to see if he can get the fan hooked up (more electrical) But he takes it in to get an oil change and the guy there looks underneath and says no.  Your friend can not drive this as is.  Break the key in the lock if you have to, but this is not safe to drive.

Which sends me back to the vomit panic mode because I was just about to drive it.  This is so not ok.

So.  Not.  Ok.  At all... and I am now beyond what I had in savings and I don't want to do this and no one is cheering me on.

Thursday afternoon he takes it in for a brake job.  They fix... things and new brakes and oh my lord does that ever feel better and Jason is finally relieved and happy with the safety of the van and is going to rush things this afternoon to get the electrical set up.  (Even though he's not 100% confident in his electrical work... but he's pretty sure he can do it without dying.  Oh lord, please make it stop.)

I keep thinking about how both of us are stressed beyond what's ok and that at least when I leave he gets to relax.  I leave and have a week of stress getting down, a week of stress dealing with the heat down there and then a week of stress getting back.  I get no relief.  This is not ok.  I just want to give up.

I clearly miss the ferry I book on Thursday.  I rebook for Friday first thing.  Fourth booking I've tried to get to this week.

Jason fights against the dark (in a literal way) and we are both reminded how poorly we work together under stressful situations.  He is awful.  He tells me I'm being wimpy.  I tell him I'm trying not to lose it dealing with his awful mood.  It's bad.  Things aren't going smoothly and it's involving electricity which I do not like.  And he's not completely comfortable with either.  It gets dark.  I am desperate to get a window unsealed because it's awful and nasty hot in the van and I'm in Victoria... f*ck.

I tell him, in all honestly, that I'm done and not going.  His mood and the stress have killed me and I quit.  He yells back that that's fine but he's finishing this work no matter what.  I don't know how to make him stop.  I am frightened of him and the situation and I would leave him and go inside but I don't trust him not to yell at my neighbours so stick around to manage anything that might happen.  It's awful.  Why did I ever sign up for this?  I can not even tell you how awful this was.  After a week of hell.  Really.  The neighbour who is going to Burning Man shows up.  This calms Jason.  I am endlessly grateful.

He shocks himself.  Badly.  I want to cry/die.  I order pizza.  He doesn't eat it.

Somehow he finishes.  Something.  Wires.  I have power.  For... ? A fan I guess?  It's late.  I'm supposed to be on the earliest ferry.  Which means being up at 4am.

We "pack" the van.  Most of it.  Not my bike or essentials.  But the big bins.  And tools.  And whatever.

I am shaking.  Do not want to go.  Jason is done.  And mad.  Tells me fine. Don't go.  Or go.  You're going.  I don't remember.

He leaves.  I look at the clock.  Realize I can't be functional on three hours of sleep and decide I'll try for a later ferry.  I'm not getting there for Saturday now anyway... why try to rush?  I don't even think I can drive this thing onto the ferry without hitting people.  Because I haven't driven it.  I drove it for maybe half an hour.  Freaked Jason out, apparently (we didn't know but the passenger seat wasn't bolted properly so my driving felt really really bad to him) which didn't help because I was terrified of the size... plus, no rear view... plus no sense of space.  Jason yells at me that if I can't tell how big the vehicle is I shouldn't have a license at all.  I want to die.

I can't drive this thing.  I just can't.  And I can't get it to Burning Man.  But I can't not go.  I am stuck.

And so scared and freaked out I'm non functional.  And I can't talk to anyone about it because no one but Jason is really aware of what's going on.  And everyone will just tell me not to go... which I can't.  I have to go.  I just can't.

So I decide to not go for the first ferry, which means I have to move the van to a parking space that will allow me to sleep in.  So for the first time, I go out to drive the van by myself.  I don't put on a bra, because it's one or two in the morning.  I deal with the fact that the van doesn't like to start.  I drive slowly around the block.  The same block I'd driven around with Jason earlier, trying to get him to help me with seeing/feeling how BIG the van is/was.  Which is when he yelled.  Which made it all worse.  So I drive around the block.  I park a time or two and see how close I get to the curb.  Far.  It's not the size I see it as... ok.

I realize I'm driving the van by myself for the first time with no bra.  It fits somehow.  That 70s feel.  I try to take heart from this.

I tell myself I need to sleep.  But I don't.  (Of course I don't.)

I wake up at some point the next morning.  Jason has my car.  He drives over.  Gets mad that I have "so much more" to pack.  Bedding... travel bag... bike.  He loads it all.  Bungees stuff down.  I get mad.  Very mad.  Because he's packed the whole thing and I have no idea how.  I un-bungee things.  He gets mad.  I swear.  Quit.  Give up.  He tells me I'm getting on the next ferry.  Leaving now.  8 something am.  I am not ready.

I cry.  Can't do this.  Don't even want to.  I have had to try to quell the panic by breaking it down into chunks.  So all I'm going to do now is drive to the ferry terminal.  (Jason drives in front of me)  We get there.  I may not make the ferry.  He takes some photos.  I try to smile.  I am crying.  It is awful.  I don't want to do this.  I really really don't.  I will get to the other side and make a decision.  I am going to be late.  I will not make my first shift.  I do not want to drive this van.  It is hot inside the van and it's early morning.  My thermometer I got says it's 42.  Please don't let that be right.  I take the thermometer out of the sun.  It's still thirty something in the van.  It's not even 10 am.  Why am I doing this?  I do not want to do this.  I am by myself.  This isn't fun.  None of this has been fun.

Jason is proud.  Tells me so (via text.. he's not allowed in the terminal)  I feel there's nothing to be proud of.  At all.  I feel awful and am a mess.  I don't want to be here.

I don't do things on my own.  Why am I doing this?

Jason gives me some nickname from some driving movie he loves.  I tell him I'm not a driver.  I'm really not.  He's emotional.  So very proud of me.  I am just focussing on hopefully getting on this ferry.

It's now a week later than I had wanted to leave.  I have made several different driving plans.  If I can get this far, go to here.  If only this far, go to here.  I inform people on playa that I will not necessarily make any of my shifts (at this point I have no idea how long it's going to take me to get there.)  This is pretty much everything I didn't want to do.... Go in an old, unknown vehicle that I haven't driven at all until the day I left...

I am done and at a stress level beyond anything that's remotely ok and I haven't even left town.  And I don't know if it's stubbornnness or determination or un-smartness but I can't seem to not go forward.

I really had hoped to be this awesome, fun loving chick enjoying this wonderful solo trip.  Nothing in the weeks or days leading up to me being in the ferry lineup had been anything like that at all.  Not fun.  Not even close to it.  Just fear and anxiety and worse worse worse.  And no one there to comfort me.

You guys, it was awful.  So so awful.  With no break in sight.  August 26th, in the ferry lineup... hating everything while trying to be in the moment and positive.  Scared out of my mind. 

Saturday, 17 September 2016

The Words

Ok.  So I did nothing this week. 

Well, that's an exaggeration.  I did not much at all this week.  (Other than what "had" to be done.)

I still have tidying to do, although a lot less than in previous years since almost all of my stuff and gear and packable items are still in a van in Northern California.  So at some point here today I hope to finish the tidying that I'd like to have happen.  Those final few things stored away... wherever.

I might go see my parents this weekend, although I'm really not sure of how much I feel like telling them about what all went down.  I'm not yet in a place where I have a succinct version of the telling of the story.  Even the trip home resonates with the echoes of the trip down.

I think having been home a week, I have settled somewhat and feel a little less like this is all a dream.

I cancelled as much as I could this week and did a whole lot of vegging.  Restorative vegging.  Un-thinking.  Chilling.

I will tentatively start putting one foot in front of the other and maybe interacting with people who aren't Jason.

Or not.  I'm tired and don't really care all that much.

Which somehow reminds me I should go drink more water.

Friday, 16 September 2016

A Week

Happy Friday y'all.

A week ago today, I was waiting for the bus to arrive to take me to Reno to catch an evening flight home.

Life can be a strange, strange thing.

Thursday, 15 September 2016


The first while sleeping at home after Burning Man is always a little odd and difficult to adjust to.

I think I maybe babbled about it the other day, but usually it's hard to adjust to there NOT being sound and noise.

This year, my sleeping was a lot quieter, partly because of where I was camped, but partly being in a camper van rather than a tent (more sound insulation). 

But each night since I've been home (which seems a lot longer than it actually is.... I've only been home for six nights, weird) I have the same oddness happen.

As I'm falling asleep, I remember that I still have to get/drive home.  And then I kind of come to a little and go through this weird moment or two of realizing that no, that's actually the dresser next to my bed... at home... in my room... in my apartment; I don't have to get myself home.  I don't have to drive/get this room home.  I am home.

It's a strange thing and odd feeling and it has happened each night so far as I'm falling asleep... that weird feeling of still having to get home....  bedroom and all.

Wednesday, 14 September 2016


This is the shot I put up on my flickr account the first time I left for Burning Man (in 2013.)

(I was doing the 365 photography project at the time and knew I'd be away from the internet for the trip but would still take a photo a day... just not upload them til I got back.)

It was not long after I returned that year that I canned that particular flickr account and started one under something a whole lot closer to my name.

Something I could share with family and friends as it wasn't attached to a blog I try really hard to keep anonymous (ish)  and separate from my "real" person kind of information.

I remember coming back from Burning Man that year and wanting to be more open with my art and creativity.  And wanting to get back into making art and drawing and painting.  I felt inspired.

I also remember that year having no idea how I would get to Burning Man once Jay told me I couldn't travel with him.  There was NO WAY I could do that drive myself.

I still kind of stand by that, by the way... even having done it... or half and a bit of it myself.  I was right to think it would have been too much for me then.  It wasn't much fun four years later.

Unrelated to the drive, I've been eating gluten since I left.  And I haven't stopped.  Ugh.  And I feel utterly exhausted and swollen and not happy about it, but it was kind of like the floodgates opened and the first night I arrived it was spaghetti and I just said screw it and ate it and man I miss gluten.

Then I ate the pretzels and just kept saying "screw it" and then Oreos JUST BECAUSE and then on the trip back... when you're stranded in a small town you just eat what you can and then I came home and wanted more pretzels and ugh.

I need an intervention.

And someone to cook for me for a week so I can get back to decent eating patterns.  Eating out for a week, and gluten on top of that was icky.  I did what I could but gah. 


I got angry and flustered with Jason today when he told me, again, what should have and could have happened with the van so it's still on my mind and I'm still playing the avoiding game.

I've also had far too much internet for the last couple of days so that's gotta change before I claw my eyeballs out or something.


No banana tree peels either.  No... I mean, no banana peels at the foot of trees either.  Man, that was more complicated than it should have been.

Tuesday, 13 September 2016




Sorry about that.

Yeah, so this trip was rough.  Really really rough.

The week at Burning Man itself was fine (probably better than fine, but I'll need a while to get to that point) but the travelling portion was awful.

I'm actually actively avoiding writing about the trip home right now because it sets me off on a really upsetting mental path and I'm trying to let the "what might have happened" thoughts and images dissipate somewhat before I lay the story down on paper.

I'm going to try not to talk about the "should"s of the situation.  Like how I should not be ok.  Or how things should not have gone as well as they did, or how the vehicle shouldn't have done what it did.  But those will come up.

If you TL;DR: I hated driving by myself.  It was awful.

And when I stopped hating it, I really disliked it.  Over the five days of driving I did, there were maybe an hour or two where I didn't strongly dislike the experience. 

It might have been different had I been in my car, or a different vehicle, but that wasn't the case.  I don't feel strong, or proud or anything other than exhausted and not ever wanting to do that again.

Which is too bad, because the camping by myself I really did enjoy.  Oh, the irony.  (Just have to find someone to drive with me that I can then kick out to camp on their own at night.  Sigh.)

The trip down was awful and was preceded by an awful week, and would probably have outdone the trip back in awfulness had the vehicle situation that happened not happened. 

Which is what I'll get around to writing about as soon as I can, I promise.

But it's funny (not really) to me to see blog posts springing up and people sharing their photos and videos when I am still barely feeling functional from the fifteen days away from home I just went through... and the week... and month or two before that.

I'm glad so many people had wonderful experiences they can't wait to share.  That's awesome.

I'm just glad I'm alive and all in one piece.  And I'm hoping I can continue to recover emotionally and mentally from the last week... and at some point, figure out what all I took from the week in the desert... and the rest of the getting there and back and all the rest.

So many firsts.  (And hopefully some lasts.)  

Monday, 12 September 2016

I'll Be Ok

Shock is a funny thing.

I hear it's protective, and I can understand that, but right now everything's still in a bubble.  And even saying that doesn't quite make sense.

Typing is difficult.  My fingertips feel weird.  That's not the shock, that's the playa... what it does to your skin... your hands especially.  Although I seem to have taken better care of my hands and feet this year than ever before.

I'm not sure I'll ever make it back.  To Black Rock City, that is.  They say "don't divorce your parakeet" after returning from the event, and I won't.  Won't make any decisions.  Don't even need to, really, for a while.  Or ever.  But I don't feel, right now, that I can ever do that drive again.  And that's probably the shock.  Or what I went through.  Or both.  Or all.  I'm just trying to keep it together here.  To gather the parts of me that scattered or hid or are still floating in the bubble of survival mode.  I feel like I can almost poke the edges of the bubble I'm in right now.  Surreal as that sounds.  Today will be the first day I make it out of my house since I arrived back home some time after 1 am Friday night.

I'm ok.  I said that the other day.  I'm ok.  Physically all in one piece.  Things are just things and can be recovered or replaced... I don't care.  The money I care about, but that will sort itself out.  Or not.  With time. 

I, uh, have very little cleaning and unpacking to do.  Having come home with two bags, a carry on and a purse.  On an airplane.  Having left in a van.  With all my stuff.

I miss the scissors I bought.  And the blanket Jason gave me.

I forgot my computer was dying until I got home.  More money.  Mo money... said the rapper that lives inside the strange space that is the vastness of my mind.

I'm ok.  Shaken.  Not stirred.  (Slightly hysterical laugh from someone in the crowd at that one... crickets from the rest.)

I want preztels.  The gluten kind.  Food fixes nothing, but comfort helps.

I was away for 15 days.  I'm convinced this was three weeks although the math says otherwise.  Three weeks equals 15 days, just so you know.  Maybe it's because the month changed while I was away. 

"I need to process."  I hear that when people say it but I really do need to process.  It's like the old school printer has all jammed up and needs someone to come sort out the paper and feed it through again carefully and line up all those holes on the side of the paper that you'd then tear off, remember?

Jason saved everything.  All the days.  For me.  I don't know what to think about that except the gratitude I have doesn't feel like enough.  I hope he never felt helpless.  I think I would have had I been in his position. 

I don't know how we did this kind of thing before cell phones and GPSes and wifi and instant connectivity.  Maybe a solo road trip wasn't such a good idea after all.

You know how sometimes you have to open something that's been under pressure and you have to do it very very slowly, a bit at a time so all the fshhhhhhhhh leaks out in small, measured doses?  That's me.  That's my brain.  My feelings.  My coping with and dealing with and processing this.

I asked the Universe Friday night to please stop pushing my buttons.  I am all button-pushed out.  I'm learning, and growing, but please... no more pushing of the buttons.  Comfort zone effectively destroyed.  Pushed out of.  Trialed by fire. 

Whoever said "feel the fear and do it anyway" can bite me.

I might marry whoever invented air conditioning.

I should vacuum.

Saturday, 10 September 2016


Hi.  I made it.

I'm home.

Couch, blanket, tea.  Other things later.

I hug you all.

Tuesday, 6 September 2016

I'm Ok.

(Wait, why is she starting a post by saying she's ok?  And why is she talking about herself in the third person?)

I am in a hotel room somewhere in California (ish?) (on the route back home, I left the playa this morning) and my vehicle is in the shop for... X number of days and I am not likely going to be able to drive it home (nor do I want to at this point) and there was fire and 911 and bad but I am ok.  Plus they sell booze in regular stores here so I'm about to have a drink.  Not that I condone drinking but hey... I'm alive and unscathed (physically).

I know this is a lame post to post and then run off but y'all, I shouldn't be as well/alive/unscathed as I am and I don't want to talk about it right now because if I do I will go down a bad spin of what might have happened/should have happened. 

I am safe, I am well.  That is all that matters.  Burning Man was good.  Stuff burnt.  It was hot.  And dusty.  And there were people.  And I just want to go home.

But hey, I brought my computer with me and there's wifi here so... hi.  I'm ok.

I'm ok.

Saturday, 27 August 2016


I'm in Oregon.

In an RV camp ground thing.

In my camper van. 

I have wifi!  And brought my computer!  (Just for the trip down and back... the playa would kill it dead.  Dead dead.  Plus, it's already nearly dead, or mostly dead.  I'm not sure which... I should ask Miracle Max, he'll know!)

Anyway.  I don't want to take up battery power, plus, I should probably sleep.  Soon.  But here's a summary of what feels like a week but looking at the date and time is apparently only two days (WHAT?)

Yesterday was horrendous.  I don't want to exaggerate, but nor to I want to under-ggerate.  (Not a word, I know) but it was awful.  I was miserable.  And scared out of my mind.  And that's just the tip of it.

Stayed near Mount St Helens and was blessed by a wind coming up overnight to cool things (and me, and this roastingly hot van) off a little.  Miracle. 

Tonight, well, I'm reminding myself it's letting me acclimatize to heat before the very very very hot place.  (Sigh)

Um... so I am here.  Somewhere in Oregon... Jason says (he's been navigating me via phone calls through both emotional breakdowns [there have been a few] and routes) I'm more than half way there.

I don't think I can, or should do the full push to Black Rock City tomorrow.  I'm around eight hours away and you never know how long gate road (entry) will take and the possibility of a twelve plus hour day just doesn't seem smart, especially knowing where I'm going and the physical strain I'll be under once there.  (It's so hard to adjust and get your body used to the heat and altitude (and heat!) while trying to set up your camp)  So although I'm feeling sad that I'm not already there (today was my "hit the playa" day) and would rather not "miss" another day, I think I will do what needs to be done to be SAFE!  And that means being smart and rested and fed and hydrated. 

Who knows, maybe I'll stop at a hotel tomorrow and get my computer going and tell you stories before I forget them.

Like just how different a road you've driven three times looks utterly different when you're the driver.

But yeah.  Hi.  I'm ok.  And here.

Wherever that is.

Friday, 26 August 2016


I think I'm leaving today....
Please don't steal stuff from here, it's not nice. But leave a comment, why don't cha? And drink more water. It's good for you.

P.S. If you think you know me? You probably don't. If you're sure you know me? Pretend you don't. I'll never admit I know what you're talking about anyway.

P.P.S. All this stuff is copyright from then til now (Like, 2006-2016 and then some.) Kay? Kay.