It is the Journey....South Carolina

I left Dallas to escape the heat, knowing full well that the southeastern states would also be warm, but not the scorching heat of Dallas.  Unfortunately, the high temperatures have followed me, making these states unseasonably hot, and also very humid.  I find myself riding in temperatures higher than those I left.  As such, I adjust my riding schedule accordingly.......I ride as the sun is coming over the horizon. It does help, but I am always surprised at how quickly the mercury rises once the sun has risen.

South Carolina was a pretty ride, well marked by the local bike club.  To my misfortune, I did not have a key to symbols left on the pavement, so I found myself going in circles on many occasions. Around and around she goes, 10 miles here, 20 miles there, Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Collect $200. It doesn't matter; the roads were smooth, the dogs were few and I was enjoying myself....mostly.

With this awful heat and humidity comes problems besides staying hydrated (and on route).  For me, it has been the re-occurrence of those awful saddle sores discussed and experienced in 2010..........   UGH.  All I can say is that I know how a baby with severe diaper rash must feel. Is it all right for me to cry like a baby?  UGH. It is painful to walk; maybe that is why babies crawl.  It even hurts to sleep. UGH.  I'll just have to deal with it, one way or another.  

Rushing back to the hotel before the check out witching hour, I showered, medicated my 'mess', then hit the road, leaving Greenville, SC before noon.  I hadn't even hit the city limit sign when my good friend, Mike Keel, called.  Telling him where I was, He suggested I stop by Hincapie Sportswear.  My first inclination was to say 'no', that I needed to get to my next ride destination; then it occurred to me that I was doing what I always do.....I get tunnel vision.

Part of this experience is for me to slow down and enjoy the journey instead of focusing only on the goal.  So noticing that I was falling into an old habit....a comfortable habit.... I pushed down my anxiety of not getting to my next venue and detoured to the Hincapie Headquarters. I got to meet some interesting folks, look at all of the yellow jerseys (how appropriate with the Tour just beginning) and leave with a Hincapie water bottle.  Upon leaving, noting that the excursion took all of 45 minutes, I noticed that the sky hadn't fallen, the earth was still in orbit and I had had an enriching experience.  

Yes, life is indeed the journey, not the destination.  That gets to be my mantra for this trip.

Just me and my shadow....

Check out this beautiful pavement and scenery!

I thought this tree was striking in it's solitude.

How weird is this fence these people are building?

I bet his neighbors are upset.  There were 6 of these strange posts.

Hincapie Sportswear

Look at all of those jerseys

Got me some swag!

Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory......Georgia

Again, I can't reiterate enough the importance of planning and being prepared.  As I drove through Chattanooga to Georgia,  I used the my 'earlier than expected' arrival to preview the morning's route.  After driving only fifteen of the fifty miles, the numerous blind curves, blind hills and fast traffic convinced me I needed to find a different route; I decided to seek local help.  I pulled into a gas station at a four way stop and made my way to the entrance, atlas under my arm.

 As seems to be a common occurrence in these more country environs, a small group of men were sitting around door, Styrofoam cup of coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other, whiling the day away with friendly ribbing and laughter.  Now, I suppose one could look at this as running a gauntlet of sorts, but I figured if anyone knew the lay of the land around here, it would be found here.  Before I could even say 'hello',  one gentleman, upon seeing the map tucked under my arm, said,

  "Doesn't matter which way you go, you'll still be lost".

... my reputation must proceed me!   And so I meet my road hero, Charlie; he was a god-send.

I explained that I had planned to ride the road in front of the store, but felt it was too dangerous.  He said,

"There's always lots of them bicyclers out there riding.  There's a lot of traffic, but none of them have ever been kilt, that I ever heard of."

Then he looked at me and gave me the once over.  While taking a draw on his cigarette, he came to some conclusion because he looked up at me, slightly squinting one eye, and said,

"Now, if you want a really safe and beautiful bike ride, you need to go to the Chickamouga National Military Park.  It is closed to commercial traffic and there are miles and miles of roads to ride there going in and out of the woods and battlefields."


Giving me directions in a language that I understand, (drive until you get to the Walmart, then turn left.....), he sent me on my way, and I found it with ease, arriving about 6:15.  Spying some men geared up to ride, I approached them and asked them if they could suggest a route.  Instead, Larry said, "Come ride with us!"  My initial reaction was to say 'no'...I had saddle sores, was tired and needed to write my blog. But then I thought, "What the heck--that's what this trip is about!" and accepted his offer.

While I scurried and changed, I have a suspicion that they were wondering just what they had gotten themselves into.....could this woman even ride a bike?  I say this because when I opened the back of the KIA, they looked in, saw my bike and gears, started laughing and said


"As soon as I saw all that stuff,  I knew you knew what you were doing".  There was obvious relief in that laughter.


We set off on a brisk pace, sailing down wonderfully smooth roads, past monuments on manicured fields and through thick stands of hardwood trees, where the second largest battle of the Civil War had been fought.  Leaving the park, we began to climb, entering the surrounding farm land.  It was beautiful, but we were going at a pace the afforded little time to admire the surroundings.  Twenty miles into the ride, I began to feel the effects of riding fifty miles earlier in the day and not having eaten anything in the past 6 hours; I started to bonk.  The gents did slow the pace for me, which caused us to re-entered the park after sunset; it was dark, but enough daylight remained that we could make our way.

As we rode down through the park, lightening bugs played hide and seek, signaling to one another amongst the trees and on the battlefield.  Deer bounded across our paths in the dimming light, while the crickets and frogs sang a serenade.  As the mist rose from the ground, I could not help but to feel the presence of of those men who had lost their lives on the very ground through which I was riding. A heavy blanket of sadness hung in the air, cloaking the surroundings like the rising mist as the last of the daylight slipped away.  14,000 casualties........all here, on this land, under this moon.  There is no glory in that.

We pulled into the parking lot just as the final bit of daylight faded, and a ranger promptly appeared, asking us to leave.  I thanked Larry and Gary for sharing their ride with me.  Both in their 60's, they are relatively new to cycling, but very strong riders.  Gary told me his best time on the circuit we took tonight was a 19mph pace; we rode at 15.5....   They slowed their pace quite a bit for me, and I was grateful.

Tired and hungry, I found a hotel, ate and went to sleep after soaking and treating my saddle sores.  It was a good, but long day.

Monuments on one of the battle fields

One of many roads through the Chickamauga Chattanooga National Military Park

More battlefield

This looks very similar to the wooded conditions in which the men fought.

Flag at half mast

Larry and Gary lead the way

Gary

Check out that wonderful pavement.  (Gary)

Larry

Losing the sun as we re-enter the park

Fate....Kenucky

With my first ride under my belt, I packed up and headed to Kentucky, land of the blue grass, tobacco and horses. Being a Girl Scout in my younger years, I was taught the importance of planning ahead and being prepared, (these days that gets labeled as being 'controlling') As such, I decided to go find the start point for tomorrow's ride....be prepared!   I learned from the Natchez ride that just finding the start point can be a real challenge. To my surprise and irritation, none of the routes I got from  http://ridewithgps.com/  give the start addresses!  The authors assume that those using these maps, with labels like the 'Chaney 44' or the 'DMST Moonville', know from where the ride begins!  Ha!  They don't know me, evidently!

After driving around the country roads, somewhere in the outback of Kentucky, I finally found the start of tomorrow's ride.  I guess I should confess now, that I stalked some cyclists that were riding the area and  I didn't actually find it 'on my own',  How lucky I was that they showed up just when I needed directions!  .....Fate

I thought I'd put on my cycling clothes and get a few miles in since there were 3 or 4 hours of daylight left. Tomorrow promised to be another sweltering day, and I wanted to lessen the miles I would ride in that heat. I gathered my gear, and headed to the nearby dairy store to change, walking over to the riders first, introducing myself.  It didn't take much to get the conversation going, and as the remaining riders rolled in one by one, Joe, the owner of a local Tri-store, introduced them to me.  Lively dialogue ensued as the sun dropped lower and lower.  An attractive, fit woman rode in and approached the car I was leaning against; when she took her helmet off and turned around, out of my mouth came,

"Kim?"
"Yes?"
"Kim K******t?"
"Yes, who are you?"
"I'm Sue Hersman....used to be Coughlin.  You coached Diana and Jenny in swimming at Culver!" (Diana and Jenny are two of my daughters)

Blankness remained on her face, but watching it as the connection dawned on her was like watching the sun rise. She beamed, was flabbergasted and teary.  The world is a small place, indeed....there are no coincidences.....Fate.

After spending the night at the Red Rood, where you 'sleep cheap',  I was on the road by 6:30 am pedaling my way through the corn.  The good thing about being up that early, temperature aside, is that there is absolutely no traffic on the road.  I think I even beat the farmers up.  It was a joy to watch the sunrise and the countryside  awaken.

Long shadows of an early morning ride

 Corn on the right, corn on the left, corn everywhere I looked.  With it towering above me, I felt a bit like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz.  The only thing lacking was the Strawman and the Flying Monkeys.  I did wonder what was leaving the strange marks on the pavement; perhaps I was in the land of Oz.

Strange markings on the street pavement.  Hmmmm...

That mystery was soon solved when the tranquility of the morning was broken by a rhythmic clompity-clomp, clompity-clomp.

I was sitting in the shade of a tree at that moment, enjoying the peacefulness and a snack when that sound filtered through the countryside.  Clompity-clomp, clompity-clomp.  Looking down the road, in the far distance, was a horse and wagon; I was in Amish country!!  I pulled out my camera  and waited.  The wagon drew closer, and it's occupants became visible. Starring out were four little white faces and a very sour face of a woman/child.  They stared at me and I at them.  I must have been a sight for them in my tight spandex.....  They clompity-clomped past me, five faces turning to watch me like sunflowers following the sun. Not wanting to be intrusive, I waited until they were down the road a bit before I took a picture.  They were hauling freshly picked corn.

Amish woman and children hauling corn.

As I watched them fade down the road amidst the fields of shorn wheat, it occurred to me that those strange marks in the road were from the horseshoes and as my tires rolled over theses tracks, I wondered about the life of that young mother, thinking her grandmother was probably my age.  It occurred to me that just the fate of DNA landed me in my current life...

Corn, corn, corn

A drought is causing poor crop output

Concerns for brushfires due to dry fields

Just a Trace....Tennessee

After driving ten hours, I finally arrived in Collinwood, TN and to the address where my B & B was located.  I called the number listed on the door, then peered in the windows while waiting for the innkeeper to arrive.

"What the heck kind of place am I staying in?"  I wondered out loud.

The front 'parlor' was filled with hair salon chairs and equipment!  Did this double as a beauty salon during the slow season?  Was a cut and a perm included in the price of my stay?

Things that made me go 'hmmmm', but I shrugged my shoulders in surrender.  What else could I do?  It was late, and I was in the boonies.  So what if I had a few extra sinks and chairs in the room with me.

The innkeeper arrived. standing at the corner of the building.

"Back here," she said.

As it turns out, my cottage was behind the salon, and had been converted from a skin tanning salon.  It was lovely, clean and comfortable and my hosts, Larry and Dianne, were warm and welcoming.

Packed and ready to go

With the prediction of steamy, hot weather, I started riding the next morning at 6:30 am.  Anyone that knows me understands that I do not function well at that hour.  I pulled my bike out of the car, put the front wheel on and began to ride. It was only when I finished my ride that I noticed I had put the wheel on backwards.  Oh well.... no one noticed....    

 Oh, how I wish I had paid attention to how I had come into town last night.  True to form, I was lost before I even began, having to stop at the gas station to ask for directions from a group having coffee.  Sigh....this was supposed to be an easy ride--straight out and back on the Natchez Trace....I didn't consider having to navigate there first and now, being directionally challenged, I was lost.   After getting directions and a hail of 'good lucks', I pedaled away from the table of older local gents, wondering if they were putting down wagers of whether I would get there or not.

Once on the Natchez Trace, it was a bicycler's paradise.  The weather was a cool, misty 60 degrees, there was no wind, no traffic and a pavement as smooth as glass.  After only a few feet, I found myself descending, descending, descending ........on and on. Unlike Texas,  no vibrations rumbled through the carbon frame as I sailed down the hill, scattering deer and turkeys in my wake. A redtailed hawk played cat and mouse with me, flying across my path, only to land in a tree, watch me spin by, then do it again. Smiling like a banshee, a distant voice in my head tried to remind me that I would be climbing this hill upon my return....as the final leg of my ride.  But like the the rabbit in Aesop's fable, who didn't save for the future, I ignored the little voice and rode like the wind.

Up and down, up and down.............it was glorious and I was in awe of my surroundings.  None of the sounds filtering through the trees were made by man; the silence of that noise was almost deafening in its foreignness. Gradually, growing accustomed to the lack of  'normal' noise, I became aware of all the natural sounds surrounding me....  the rustle of the dry leaves as some small creatures scurries through them, the many songs and tones of the birds greeting the day and each other, the tinkling trickle of water somewhere.  And the smells......green, alive and fragrant.  I stopped and gave thanks, full of appreciation and gratitude.

The day was beginning to warm, and within an hour it was in the 80's.  Still my legs churned as I crested and descended the long rollers, strong and full of energy.   Wisely, I had prepared for the heat and the exertion; following the advice of fellow cyclist "Rondog", I set my computer to remind me to drink every ten minutes.  That was genius..........dehydration is a real issue for me, and this assures that I drink enough.

All too soon, it was time to return to the B & B.  The temperature was hovering in the high 80's and road traffic had picked up as people made their way to church.  I still felt fresh, though I was quite damp from the humidity and sweat. As one might say, I was glistening.  I turned and began to retrace my steps.  Still pedaling strongly, I was mentally congratulating myself on a ride well executed when the first cramp hit.

No, this was not a muscle cramp due to electrolyte imbalance....this was a cramp reminiscent of the cramps I had experienced the last two weeks from food poisoning.  Sharp pains shot through my gut, encircling my back and squeezing like a vise. I broke out in a cold sweat and felt nauseous.  I knew what was coming, but there was no where to stop; I was literally in the middle of nowhere...no houses, no gas stations, not even an outhouse.  The surrounding woods were out of the question; they were full of poison ivy and I did not bring any 'provisions' for the green room.

Arrgghhh--another cramp hit, then another, squeezing me with more urgency.  I pedaled faster, reasoning that if all the blood was going to my legs, my intestines would settle a bit.   Arrgghh......well, that didn't work, and as the cramp went into full spasm, I saw up ahead the long, long hill that I had come down at the very beginning.

The good news was, I was close to home; the bad news....I had at least 2 miles of climbing grades ranging from between 2 and 7%....  This is where riding becomes mind over matter...ignoring my middle half, I focused on my legs, my technique and my breathing, (I knew all those birthing classes would come in handy again....).  Tamed under my wheels, the undulating grey snake wound its way up the mountain, with me riding its back as if we were old friends.  The intestinal cramping had not ceased, but my attention to it had, rendering it powerless.  I rode the remainder of the miles without incident.  (I will at this point take a moment and warn everyone to never, ever eat fish tacos at the airport)

It was a wonderful ride, a wonderful way to start the day and a lesson well learned.....to quote a friend..."where the mind flows, the body goes..."

Sunrise on the Natchez Trace

Long, gradual ascent

Fields of corn and tobacco

As the sun climbed, so did the temperatures.

Light at the end of the tunnel

The Beginning of the End......

I started my cycling journey in 2010 by riding coast to coast across the southern United States; I can't explain why I wanted to do it, but it was a growing experience and one I vowed never to do again.  By early 2011, however,  I had the itch to go again, this time riding from North Dakota to Maine.  It was a glorious trip, with plenty of greenery, hills and......lobster!  MMM-MMM!

Upon completion of that ride in June, I arrived home in Texas, only to be greeted with triple digit heat; there was little greenery left here. As wild fires raged in central Texas, Dallas had stringent watering bans, leaving the area's vegetation bleached and dry.

It was during this time of sweltering temperatures that I hatched the idea to ride in all 50 states.  I already had 24 done, and the remaining 26 states were separated into two relatively contingent areas--the Pacific Northwest and the MidAtlantic/East Coast regions.  Going north was pretty much a no-brainer, so I set off to explore the cool dampness of Oregon and the states beyond, as the temperatures in Dallas continued to hover around 105 degrees. Those states were glorious in their coolness and beauty, and upon their completion, I had 16 states left in which to pedal.

As the temperatures again climb here in Texas, I leave tomorrow to finish the conquest that began in 2010.  I will not be greeted by the temperate weather of the Pacific Northwest, but by the warm, cloying humidity of the MidAtlantic states and the Eastern seaboard.

As I begin this last phase of my journey, I find myself in the best physical, mental and emotional condition in which I have ever been.  This two year journey has been more than just pounding out the miles; it has been a trip of discovery ....discovery of what a truly amazing and wondrous this country is, of the generosity and kindness of the people who live here and a discovery of what is possible when the word 'can't' is erased from one's vocabulary.  Yes, 100% is possible 100% of the time; one only has to decide it is to be.

Those of you that have followed my blog from its inception have been witness to the growth that has taken place in me.  You've read of my tears, fears and triumphs, of the many times I got lost and of the adventures I have experienced along the way.  I invite you to follow me again in this final sequel as I take this solo trip eastward.

First stop..... Tennessee.

My Motivating Factor--Living A Life Without Regrets

I often get feedback and comments about what I am doing that run along the line of, "Wow, your life is amazing!"....to which I say, 'no....not really'.  I have just had the good fortune of being taught important lessons early in my life. I lost of my father when I was still in my twenties, then cared for my mother as she declined into the haze of Alzheimer's  Disease.  While both were painful losses, they were also gifts; they taught me the value of living a full life, that life can change on a dime, and to live without regrets. I also learned about gratitude.

It was not until my divorce, however, that I took over the reins and began to control how I wanted to live....prior to that I was just doing what I was 'expected' to do.  Now, I am living the life I want...one without regrets; one without apology.  It has taken courage to venture beyond my safety zone and fortitude to swat away the criticism and naysayers.  There have been obstacles, but I have learned to turn these into opportunities, and use my fear as an ally.

I read an interesting article today about the top five regrets of the dying. I understand precisely what the author shared. I am passing this wisdom on to you so that perhaps you will reflect and find value in their experience.  Life is a choice....

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Top Five Regrets of The Dying

December 1, 2011 By T Kelly 101 Comments

By Bronnie Ware on November 30, 2011

For many years I worked in palliative care. My patients were those who had gone home to die. Some incredibly special times were shared. I was with them for the last three to twelve weeks of their lives.  

People grow a lot when they are faced with their own mortality. I learnt never to underestimate someone’s capacity for growth. Some changes were phenomenal. Each experienced a variety of emotions, as expected, denial, fear, anger, remorse, more denial and eventually acceptance. Every single patient found their peace before they departed though, every one of them.

When questioned about any regrets they had or anything they would do differently, common themes surfaced again and again. Here are the most common five:

1. I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.

This was the most common regret of all. When people realise that their life is almost over and look back clearly on it, it is easy to see how many dreams have gone unfulfilled. Most people had not honoured even a half of their dreams and had to die knowing that it was due to choices they had made, or not made.

It is very important to try and honour at least some of your dreams along the way. From the moment that you lose your health, it is too late. Health brings a freedom very few realise, until they no longer have it.

2. I wish I didn’t work so hard. 

This came from every male patient that I nursed. They missed their children’s youth and their partner’s companionship. Women also spoke of this regret. But as most were from an older generation, many of the female patients had not been breadwinners. All of the men I nursed deeply regretted spending so much of their lives on the treadmill of a work existence.

By simplifying your lifestyle and making conscious choices along the way, it is possible to not need the income that you think you do. And by creating more space in your life, you become happier and more open to new opportunities, ones more suited to your new lifestyle.

3. I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.

Many people suppressed their feelings in order to keep peace with others. As a result, they settled for a mediocre existence and never became who they were truly capable of becoming. Many developed illnesses relating to the bitterness and resentment they carried as a result.

We cannot control the reactions of others. However, although people may initially react when you change the way you are by speaking honestly, in the end it raises the relationship to a whole new and healthier level. Either that or it releases the unhealthy relationship from your life. Either way, you win.

4. I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends. 

Often they would not truly realise the full benefits of old friends until their dying weeks and it was not always possible to track them down. Many had become so caught up in their own lives that they had let golden friendships slip by over the years. There were many deep regrets about not giving friendships the time and effort that they deserved. Everyone misses their friends when they are dying.

It is common for anyone in a busy lifestyle to let friendships slip. But when you are faced with your approaching death, the physical details of life fall away. People do want to get their financial affairs in order if possible. But it is not money or status that holds the true importance for them. They want to get things in order more for the benefit of those they love. Usually though, they are too ill and weary to ever manage this task. It is all comes down to love and relationships in the end. That is all that remains in the final weeks, love and relationships.

5. I wish that I had let myself be happier. 

This is a surprisingly common one. Many did not realise until the end that happiness is a choice. They had stayed stuck in old patterns and habits. The so-called ‘comfort’ of familiarity overflowed into their emotions, as well as their physical lives. Fear of change had them pretending to others, and to their selves, that they were content. When deep within, they longed to laugh properly and have silliness in their life again.

When you are on your deathbed, what others think of you is a long way from your mind. How wonderful to be able to let go and smile again, long before you are dying.

Life is a choice. It is YOUR life. Choose consciously, choose wisely, choose honestly. Choose happiness.

Sources:

http://www.activistpost.com/2011/11/top-5-regrets-of-dying.html

http://www.inspirationandchai.com/Regrets-of-the-Dying.html

Groovin' on the Groover

Having returned from my first experience sea kayaking, one might ask what I found to be the most challenging event.  I could say it was rolling upside down in the water and escaping from the overturned kayak during a wet escape, or paddling through winds and rough waves without previous experience, or even being very ill for a couple of days.  None of those, however,  compares to what stretched me to the point of thinking...."I can't do this!"......

I took this sea kayaking trip to the Exuma Islands as an alumni of an educational organization called NOLS, (National Outdoor Leadership School.)  This school teaches all sorts of outdoor skills, using the wilderness as the classroom.  They teach and adhere to the leave no trace (LNT) principles; what you bring into an area, you take out, leaving minimal impact on the environment.....that means everything.  Yes....EVERYTHING!!   So, as we paddled from one deserted island to the next, we camped in accordance to the LNT directives, which included the bathroom....and what we 'packed' in, we packed out.

When backpacking in the Wyoming, we dug individual 'cat holes' in which to relieve our bodies of their 'waste', (but any non-natural, man-made substances...like TP... had to be packed out).  In the Exumas, we could not use cat holes; the mineral make up of the islands did not allow for the breakdown of the waste....if it got planted, there it would remain in its original state.  As a result, we had to use a container called a 'groover' as a toilet, but only for solid waste. It resembled a large tupperware container with a screw off lid and is so named because it leaves grooves on your rear-end when used.

The groover, measuring approximately 6x10 in.  Cubic volume unknown...but it wasn't much!

For the sake of modesty, the groover was housed under a tent fly.

Only used for solid waste, we carried ziplock bags in which to deposit our soiled paper products

The groovers, (we had four), were transported on the back of the double kayaks, as seen on the back of this one. The used groovers were well bundled in garbage bags.

When the groover tent was occupied, a kayak paddle was put upright in the sand to warn anyone else away. It's not a sight one would want to witness,and the embarrassment of such an accidental intrusion would have surely created some performance issues for the user and interloper, alike!

The first time I went to use it, I thought "How bad can this be?"  Let me put it this way.....it was all I could do to keep from vomiting. I am sure my gagging could be heard all the way down the beach.  I knew after that first experience that I just wouldn't be able to do this.... but what was the alternative?  There was none--at least, none that supported the 'Leave No Trace' principles.  How I wished for another way....

Well, be careful what you wish for; I spent the next two days sicker than a dog, with a raging headache and unable to keep down any food. Grateful that the high winds and rough ocean kept us grounded and unable to paddle to our next destination, I laid in my tent for those days, only drinking water, nibbling an occasional cracker and watching the others hone their kayaking skills and frolic in the water.  I was truly miserable, but without food entering my system, I did not have to use the groover!

Sick, I found a patch of shade in the tent. It was very hot; the islands offered very little shade.

I have little doubt that not everyone used the groover.  Like the character from Alfred Hitchcock's Rear Window, as I laid immobilized in my tent,  I watched people come and 'go'.  Most trudged to the groover like good soldiers, emerging in the appropriate amount of time.  One gentleman, however, entered and vacated within seconds, only to make a second attempt after contemplating the matter for a few minutes.  Failing at this in an equally short amount of time, he walked hurriedly to the ocean, and began swimming long, easy strokes to a point far beyond my range of vision.  Returning 10 minutes later, I had no problem in assuming he had 'dropped the kids' off somewhere else.  I know with certainty of one person who preferred to build a 'shrine'.....  So much for leaving no trace.  In fairness to those who just could not bring themselves to use the tupperware toilet, I just have to ask this....'Did our food really have to have so much spice, onions and fiber?'

Despite my lack of sustenance, the groover beckoned.....    I observed the LNT mandate and made friends with the contraption, but this was, without a doubt, the most challenging part of the trip!

The Exuma Islands were absolutely beautiful and it was a wonderful trip.  If you ever get the chance to experience them like this, jump at the opportunity.  The beauty and serenity is phenomenal!

Concierge service by Steve....his makeshift raft, serving almonds and sun warmed chocolate to the water worshipers.

2011 NOLS Alumni trip; Sea Kayaking in the Bahamas

The end of another day in paradise. All the islands on which we camped were deserted.

A double rainbow greets another perfect morning

Beaching the boats for lunch

The tranquility of sunset

Dinner on the beach--camp-made pizza

Perfection.....

Reminiscent of Gilligan's Island.  One did not venture into the jungle; it was full of poisonwood trees, which causes a rash worse than poison ivy.

Cutting vegetables for dinner

Our kitchen was under the green and white tarp.  We traveled self-contained, carrying all our food, water and gear in our kayaks.

Doug, one of the instructors, teaching me to roll.

Practicing the different maneuvering strokes.

Waiting for dinner.

Thank you, NOLS, for another wonderful adventure!

The Thin Branches........

I am sitting in an almost mid-level motel in the Exuma Islands. A few months ago, I had never heard of them; they are part of the Bahama Islands. Who knew? I thought the Bahama Islands consisted only of the island that Nassau was on. I guess the first clue to my error should have been the "s" on the end of Bahama Islands. But here I am, sufficiently educated and waiting to meet a handful of strangers, with whom I will be spending the next week.

I am here to learn how to kayak, specifically sea kayak. I have never kayaked before, let alone in the ocean. The trip is self-contained, meaning we will be carrying all our gear and camping on the various islands, to which we will be paddling.

I should mention at this point that I don't swim well and have a fear of drowning. Last time I swam in the ocean was for a triatholn, and I was so frightened of the waves, (in my defense, they were BIG), that I begged the life guard to paddled on his surf board beside me. I am not afraid of being eaten by predators from below, but I have removed my toe nail polish so my tootsies don't get mistaken for yummy morsels...just in case, mind you. So to say I am 'crawling out onto the thin branches', stretching myself, is not too much of an exaggeration.

I have had a number of people ask me why I keep doing things that 'push' me so much...or as one friend puts it, "Why do you keep punishing yourself?'  I don't see it that way; The reason I push is simple; I firmly believe that once one stops challenging himself, he quits growing.

Yesterday in the airport, I caught an interview of Deepak Chopra. He was talking about aging and feels that once one stops growing, he begins to age--that mental age affects biological age. He urged the listeners, regardless of age or physical condition, to challenge themselves daily with something new, with something that would stretch them mentally and physically. In doing so, new cells and synapses develop as does a healthy self-esteem that comes with achievement, which in turn, stimulates one to continue to reach beyond his boundaries and grow.

Tomorrow I shove off in my kayak, but prior to actually being able to leave, I must learn and demonstrate that I am able to do a 'wet escape'....that means flipping the kayak upside-down in the water (with me in it), getting out successfully and reaching the surface.  I have no doubt that as I am hanging upside down under the water, I will feel panic, but I am prepared to walk past that fear, and in doing, empower myself,  learn a new skill, and grow.

So, I challenge you...as I am hangin upside-down, fully submerged....to do one thing tomorrow that will stretch you...that will grow you. It doesn't have to be big, but just one thing that makes your heart beat a little faster, that makes your palms moist and causes you to dig into your courage just a bit....just one thing. Climb out onto those thin branches...because 'life begins at the end of your comfort zone.'