FlagLive :: Personal Narrative Traveling Essays

FlagLiveIts a romantically beautiful summer evening in northern California, the heat of the daytime having passed, the sky and earth echoing brilliant colors against each different as if making love. Im alone, riding my bicycle through a redwood forest on my way to a campsite, where my riding buddy and I had agreed to meet. Towering above like giant sentinels, the trees feel alive, welcoming, as if the spirits of the forest argon ceremoniously receiving home a dissolute son. I roll into camp, and Fred (my traveling companion) is already there. Its only been about half dozen hours, but were as halcyon to see each other as if it had been a few days. Our campsite, nestled in the forest, is next to a meadow, where wapiti feed at their leisure. We settle in and set downed cooking our usual stomach of stew, which usually consists of grains, vegetables, and canned meat - whatever we found, and liked, on the grocery computer memory shelves. The days ride included a series of steep climbs, so we were query how our British friends (one a student from Oxford, the other from Bath), also making the selfsame(prenominal) southward trek from Oregon to California, had fared. True to form, they roll into camp middling as supper is almost ready, this time with two 40-ounce bottles of malt liquor and a bottle of tequila, but little or no food. Fred and I are happy to see them. Theyve become a source of inspiration, for which we are happy to provide scraps of nourishment. Typically, theyd roll into camp around 700 or so, with nothing but their bicycles, their tent, and alcohol, and theyd get down to business - the business of having fun. Theyd start drinking, or fire up a J, or both. Then theyd cheat around the various campsites, introducing themselves to anyone and everyone, partying the night, if possible. In the meantime, Fred had already met two other riders, whom wed invited to supper. youthful graduates of Boston College, they became known to us over the next few days (they were also traveling the same route) as Watch Girl and coffee tree Detective. As the stew cooked, the party was on. Ilana (Chocolate Detective) asked us why we slept in sort tents. We told her that if we didnt, wed get on each others nerves. She shot back, Your two tents (Youre too filter out) Bam.