Escape from Paso Robles

The days had dragged on for what seemed like weeks. Every hour passed too quickly and yet at the time it felt as if every minute merely crawled along the face of the clock. The nights had grown cold and windy and wet. Every morning I awoke damp with condensation, cold with events of the passing morning dew. Every night was battle. Every morning was trek across the heat soaked streets, radiating from the sun soaked streets and sidewalks and reflecting itself upon the weary traveler who was unfortunate enough to have to walk its length.

I had been in Paso Robles for only 3 days, but each day grew more and more exhausting as time flew forward. Each morning the sun would rise and drench the small city with sunlight; a welcomed relief from the damp, windy nights. But soon that relief turned into distress and you suddenly became overwhelmed from the heat of the day. You couldn't escape it.

Finding Wi-Fi in the town was an exercise in futility. Every where you walked to, there were dozens of signals, a myriad of businesses each with their own box of communication to the outside world. But those who offered theirs freely seemed to be having difficulties of their own. Starbucks and McDonald's are 2 of the largest providers of free Wi-Fi in the United States. They are a godsend to the weary traveler trying to find a current that speaks to the greater community. But in Paso Robles, their communication systems were down. With no way to contact the world outside and no rides helping me to escape my limbo, I decided to leave on the bus.

 
Paso Robles was a town of forgotten industry.

Everywhere I turned there were buildings decaying back into the ground from where they'd sprang forth. All around me was the signs of a changing time. Commerical wine making was now the cities saving grace. Some of the old buildings, whose purpose had seemingly been fulfilled were having new life breathed into their steel and concrete skeletons. The Farmers Alliance Flour Mill in Paso Robles was one such building.

It was built in 1922 by an Alliance of Farmers (hence the name). The main tower is 82 feet tall and had the capacity to store 1000 tons of almonds! It was used until 1975, where it has since laid dorment. An almost forgotten relic of the past, from a time when Paso Robles was a contributing industrial factor.

The building will soon be turned into a Winery and Tasting room, a sign of the future of Paso Robles. (No pun intended)

On Tuesday morning, I found myself awaiting the chance to escape my personal limbo. On this morning, the Greyhound bus station would now open. I had my chance for freedom. It took some time and some doing to think about what it was I was going to do or where I would travel.

North?

Or South?

Indeed my location was quite central. The choice now was whether to go someplace potentially colder or move to a more tropical climate? The decision weighed heavy on my mind and took several hours to contemplate. Finally, after hours of deliberation with myself, I decided to go to the most unbiased system of choice making I know. It was a tried and true method, used for centuries to decide the most difficult of decisions. Used by the famous, world leaders, the rich and poor alike. It was the only method of making a choice I could be sure of. The only way I could make a decision and know that it what the fates will from me.

A coin toss.

Yes, I decided to flip a coin. Probably not the best way to make life decisions, but you can't argue with the results. A coin is never wishy-washy. It never has to "think" about it. It makes its choice and you must make yours.

I flipped the coin, its silver finish glinting in the now fading sun. I had but 10 minutes to make my choice, to pick a destination, lest I be stuck in this small city for yet another night. It turned and turned and turned as it defied gravity and then rapidly succumbed to its forces. My right hand caught the coin and flipped it onto my left. I sat for a second and sighed a breath of anxious anticipation. I lifted my right and revealed what the fates had ordained for me. Would the coin be heads, indicating South towards the tropical region of Miami? Or tails? To the potentially frigid airs of Portland? I lifted my hand.

Tails. My journey would now take me north. I paid my ticket and left for my destination. Portland, OR.

The Vegas Chef and the Navajo Traveler

This little town north of San Luis Obispo has been nothing but a void since I've been here. I put my thumb out but no one stops. They put on their blinders and ignore me like some uninteresting geological feature. Just another hill in the landscape. I can't say it's been inspiring. The romantic vision of hitchhiking quickly leaves you and all you feel is this inescapable sense of hopelessness.

You begin to ask yourself what you're doing wrong. How can I increase my chances? Where will I sleep tonight if I can't find anything else?

It's self-destructive and only makes it harder on you. You no longer smile at passing drivers, you don't wave. You stand there. Eyes staring into the distance, unable to look away from the distant horizon that seems to constantly mock you and your inability to chase it down.

Yesterday, I fell into such a funk. The morning had started off positively. I had survived the cold night before and found myself a short walk to Starbucks. I used the time to research the area and weigh options. After several hours of intensive digging, I decided on an option that enthralled the explorer in me. There, a couple miles north of Atascadero, was a Greyhound bus station. It offered me a way out of this little town between everywhere I wanted to be. The goal was set, the plan pushed forth into motion.

I found the bus stop for the area, the San Luis Obispo Regional Transit Authority line connected all the cities in this area, including my destination. The city of Atascadero had no Greyhound station, but the city north of it did.  That city was El Paso de Robles, or Paso Robles for those with time management issues. The bus even dropped me off right in front of the station itself. Finally, a way to leave!

The trip there was pleasant, filling my mind with thoughts of the tropics and warm sandy beaches with crystal clear blue waters. All I had to endure was a couple days on a bus. Truly, this was going to be my next step on my journey!

Finally, I found myself in front of the station, poised to start the trip to the beaches of Miami. Alas, it was not to be.

The website I had used failed to mention the hours for the station. I had always assumed that Greyhound bus stops were 24 hours. After all, the website for booking it said the bus came in at 7pm that night!

The station was closed for the day. The station was only open for about 4 hours everyday, Monday to Saturday. And with the holiday weekend, it wasn't going to reopen until Tuesday. It was a devestating blow to my self-estime.

Defeated, I walked to the nearest business area, hoping to formulate a plan. I connected to a local wi-fi, got the lay of the land and found a Starbucks on the other end of town.  I gathered my strength and began the 2 mile trek to the other side. My pack constantly forcing each step to be heavy, forcing my arms to loose their circulation. I could hear my heart beat in my ears, I could taste the sweat pouring off me, I could sense the heat making my body work harder and harder to just keep going.

It took what little strength I had to get to the Starbucks and try to hope one of the only 4 people who hosted on couchsurfing had gotten back to me.

But a strange thing happened. An occurence.

It's a sort of thing you only see in movies, things you don't expect ever really happen.

Out of no where, a voice calls out to me.

"Hey!"

I look around but can't pinpoint the source. But once again, it hails me. "Hey! Hey!"

I look at people in their cars and on the side to see where it came from. Finally I see an arm waving me over. Confused and curious I approach the creator of the Hey.

It was 2 men, both in their mid lives, who had beckoned me over.

"Hey man, where you going?", the Hey man said.

"Just trying to get north to San Fran.", I replied.

"San Fran, huh? Well, shit man, go inside and grab yourself a glass!"

I felt a bit befuddled and he pointed to a big pitcher of cold beer.

"Anyone hitching their way through has gotta have a beer, man!" He said.

Well, crap, I thought. That seems awfully generous. I went inside, grabbed myself a glass and found myself in the company of Norm and Jeff. Two tramps who've been here in Paso Robles for several weeks. They too had traveled here and found themselves stuck, but decided to make the most of it. They sat me down and told me they saw me coming to Starbucks, "You and your awesome preacher's hat.", he said.

Norm was man of medium stature and bulky build. He was a Navajo Indian, a self-described man of the world. He had been traveling since he owned a motorcycle at the age of 15 and a half. He was joined on his right by Jeff, a thin man with a full beard and cap reminiscent of Caddy Shack. Both of them were celebrating. They were enjoying the gifts the universe had brought to them on this day.

Earlier, Norm had been handed $100 by a lady. They proceed to use this oppurtunity to celebrate life and have themselves a party. They told me all about themselves, what they were about, what they were doing. They called Paso Robles "The Vortex" because of how easy it was to get stuck here.

Now they tell me.

[Jeff on the left, Norm on the right]

They'd been here for some time, Norm had been here 3 weeks and Jeff had been here a couple months. They'd both decided to live the life of a nomad, giving up the lives they'd had before. Jeff was actually an ex Sous Chef from Las Vegas. He had worked from Caeser's Palace to Luxor and more. He'd been around the western United States for some time, but settled here after a few months.

Norm was Navajo, he had been adopted at a young age but was very entrenched in the beliefs of the tribe, he said.

Both were jovial, greeting everyone who walked by, engaging people in conversation left and right. They seemed carefree and happy; something I hadn't been since I got here.

They wanted to know why I was traveling, I told them I wanted to see the world, to travel and just learn all the stuff they don't teach you in school. They told me that was pretty freakin' sweet. We drank 2 pitchers of beer, sang Monty Python songs and discussed the finer points of hitch-hiking.

"Don't go to Sacremento. You'll never get out of there, man." Norm said.

"Yeah and don't go to Orange county." Jeff added. "The cops will kill you for trying to hitch."

"And if you ever go up north to Mt. Shasta, you GOTTA drink the water from this stream up north of the town.", said Norm. "It's seriously the best water you'll ever taste. It's from a glacier and filtered from all the volcanic rock!"

They told me they had a camp and a lot of people like us went that way to sleep. They told me I was more than  welcomed to join, so I figured, what the hell?

We stopped at an AM/PM to grab another 12 pack and we sat in a parking lot, drinking beer and discussing life in general. They called me the Hunter S. Thompson of my generation... a very flattering if probably not accurate description of me. They told me I was wise beyond my years and found it surprising that someone so young had figured out what took them years to discover. We must've sat there for hours, listening to stories, talking about cops and watching them get more and more buzzed and stoned.

Finally, Jeff wanted to sleep and I was inclined to agree. It gets cold here and I was tired as hell. Finally, we made our way back to the camp, a set of tree between the on-ramp and a river. We layed down our mats, climbed into our sleeping bags and fell asleep beneath the canopy of oaks and the stars above them.

I woke sometime around 7 and walked into town, finding the Starbucks there didn't even have internet access. It was down for some reason. It would seem then that fate brought me there to meet Norm and Jeff, the two vagabonds of Paso Robles. I told them I was going to try and hitch out of town and they wished me luck on my travels. Norm even gave me his email address, which he checks "about once a month."

People still aren't stopping to pick me up. But I realize now, I was concetrating too much on the destination and not the journey. It took a couple of vagabonds to teach me that one.

So for now I'll move on, trying to get somewhere. Hopefully I can find someone cool enough to take me to my next layover.

A Cold Night in Atascadero

Success!

After an hour of stickin' my thumb out, I finally managed to catch a ride.

The driver was Al, a contract electrician who was working in Santa Barbara an behalf of a friend. His work detail took him far longer than he had anticipated and so he decided to pick me up to help him stay awake. He had picked up hitchhikers before and he said I didn't look like the murderous/stinky type. He took me to the city of Atascadero, CA, north of San Luis Obispo. I was finally on my way

Al told me some funny stories and told me about the few times he picked up a hitchhiker. He was an all around good guy and I was grateful to be picked up. He took me to a gas station off the freeway and we parted ways.

I took myself to the entrance of the freeway and stood confidently, thumb out, hoping to snag a little more good fortune.

But it seems my luck had been used for the day. People here treated me with a sort of disdain, others neglected me. What was made very obvious was the towns population of bored teenagers who had nothing better to do on a Saturday night than yell obscenities at me. One group even promised to come back and pick me up. "Luck at last!", I thought. However, they came back, screaming down the street, flipping me off and calling me colorful names.

I decided I'd call it quits for the night.

When you're in town, you can't afford a hotel, and you don't know where there's any available wi-fi, you have limited options.

First, I walked around town, hoping to find a shopping center with a Starbucks. Unfortunately, I couldn't manage to find one. I then walked aimlessly around this small town, hoping to find something I could find useful. Night fast approached and before I knew it, it was 10 o'clock at night. My tired mind began to think of places I could sleep for the night. I tried to find a park along the stretch of road called El Camino Real but couldn't find anything except a patch of trees here or there. It was looking pretty grim and I thought I would have to give up and just find a bench.

However, it seemed fortune wasn't completely absent from my journey and I found myself at an Albertsons with a Starbucks in it. Unfortunately, it had closed but I hoped I could still connect to its wi-fi.

I couldn't.

But I found another close enough to finally get my position down. I found the location of a Starbucks (only a few blocks from where I was, fittingly enough) and, even more promising: a park. This means I could set up my tent.

Up until this point my tent had been dead weight. I had worried  I would never use it and be forsaken to haul it around indefinitely. Those fears were set aside last night when I finally set up my tent. It worked great, and the comfort it provided was immeasurable. Spending the night in a tent is HELL of a lot better than sleeping on some bench, curled up and on view for all the world to see. The down sleeping bag I brought worked wonders as well. During the night the temperature had dropped well into the 40's and I was pleasantly quite warm and even, dare I say, comfortable!

So much for my plan to follow summer!

Definitely feels more like autumn than early summer. I hope it starts warming up soon, cold weather isn't my forte.

I've also realized I've completely forgotten my harmonicas. Damn. Oh well, guess I'll have to find a new one.

So the plan now is to continue north, getting as far as I can towards Portland. I'm half tempted to take a Greyhound bus or even find a freight train to hop onto. Hopefully I can avoid such extreme actions and thumb a ride somewhere north.

Hmm... maybe I should've gone through the desert after all? At least it'd be warm. Haha, oh well.

Luckin' Out

Last night could have gone several ways.

Being alone and having little idea of what to do next, I sort of tried a little of everything. Before I left the Starbucks where I had been, I shot an email off to someone on Couchsurfing, hoping to escape the windy and rather cold night of Santa Barbara, CA. But with night fast approaching I figured I'd also try my hand at thumbing a ride. I packed my gear and walked a couple blocks down the street, hoping if someone would help me out.

For the first few minutes, I felt like a jack-ass. Sitting there, holding a sign, thumb half-way out in traffic, you feel pretty stupid. But after a few minutes you realize those people see you for a few seconds and then promptly forget about you. There's no real judgement and you quickly conclude that it really doesn't matter. The only people who matter are the ones who will stop.

One person did stop, but they weren't going the direction I was headed. And unfortunately, that was the most success I had all night. It had grown too dark and windy and I decided my chances of hitching would be much better in the day. I had made the decision to try sleeping on the streets. I wrapped my wool blanket around me and tried to grab a couple hours of sleep, but it wasn't happening. After an hour or so I decided to go back to the Starbucks to see if my Couchsurfing request gained any traction.

It had.

Unfortunately, I had missed my contact who had come to the Starbucks to pick me up. Damn.

Luckily, however, he was still checking his emails and a couple minutes later I got back in contact with him. He told me he was but a few blocks from my location and I walked North to meet him. Finally, as I approached the block, a man on his bike greeted me. It was my host for the night, Remy Younes. He brought me to his place, set me up on the couch and even made me dinner.

Remy came to America from the area of Biarritz, France. He had previously lived in Iowa and moved here, working as a computer tech. He had a great sense of humor and was beyond friendly and helpful.

I was, and still am, beyond grateful. Sleeping on the street definitely sucks. Hopefully if I have to do it again, I'll have the ability to pitch my tent.

So what's next then?

Well, I still need to keep getting North, and according to Remy, hitching in SB is tough. I attributed my lack of success last night to my trying to hitch at night, which doesn't seem to work out too well. But I can't ignore the mindsets of the places I go either. For now, the plan is to try to hitch again and see if I can get out of here. So we'll see how this pans out for today.

I'm still working on gathering enough video to make a film. I'm sure my first attempts at this will be rough, but I think I'll be able to improve as I go along.

Wish me luck!

And so it begins...

Michael has taken me to Santa Barbara and the reality of what I'm about to do has hit me. I feel like a small leaf caught in a vast torrent. He has left me here, alone in this place. A place that has always seemed familiar, but now seems immensely foreign and even a bit foreboding. This is a type of stress I've never had to process before.

I've come to distinct possibility that I may have to sleep out on the street tonight. It's a prospect that I've considered since I began this course, but now thinking about it, I don't know what to expect. Nor do I know what to expect when it comes to actually hitching. I guess all I can do is stick out my thumb and see where the world decides to sweep me off to next.

My filming is coming along as well, although I find it unnatural to film myself while I do things. It'll take some getting used to, for sure. But hopefully it comes out as interesting and *hopefully* as funny as I think it will be.

The sun's beginning to set, and I know I have to prepare myself for tonight. It's hard to ride this intense wave of emotions that keep surging inside me. I find myself choking on the intense feelings of fear, excitement and sense of not knowing what's next. Our lives at home seem so ordained compare to this... and it's barely even begun.

My next step, aside from finding a nice place to catch some sleep tonight, is to decide how next to proceed. Do I try hitching before it grows too dark? Or do I call it a day and begin fresh tomorrow? Well I guess we'll see what happens. In the mean time, I'll be taking advantage of Starbucks and their free wi-fi to stay in touch and keep this going, as well as gather more info for my travel.

I'll try to keep you tuned to what I'm doing.

Here goes nothing, I guess.

Counting Down

The date I've decided to leave on is May 25th and that day is fast approaching. I find myself nervous and excited at the same time. It's kind of 50/50.

I've been working on making videos since I've never done it before. They're turning out OK but I feel they could be better. Music is turning out to be an interesting challenge. I want to try and make a revenue on the videos I post to help me out on the road, but that means I have limited music to use. I can't use anything copyrighted and that limits me quite a bit.

I might see if I can get away with a few video game tunes here and there but even that's a bit of a risk. Time will tell I guess.

I expect this blog to take off once I actually start to travel. Until then it's a little boring. Hopefully I'll soon have something worthwhile to read!

The Adventure Begins

Time is a luxury none of us can afford to waste. 

Lately, I've noticed that time does not pass as slowly as it once did. Days become mere hours in my memories, with nothing exceptional to remember them by. They fade and slowly disappear like foam on the beach, only to be replaced by similar and equally meaningless fare. 

Well, to hell with that! Time to get out. 

Travel is something most of us want but can't seem to make time for. It always seems too lofty or too expensive. You'll need to save for years before you can travel the way you'd like. You'll never be free to do it. Your job is too important. 

Rubbish. 

I've decided that years of my life working in retail is not how I intend to live; and with the economy the way it is, it's looking more and more like the degree I'm spending all my time, money, and effort on, is becoming nothing more than a piece of paper. So, what's a guy to do? Leave it. That's right, you heard me. It's time I did what I wanted to do, not what everyone else wants me to do, ya dig? 

I'm terrible at this thing called life. I can't seem to save money, I hate working jobs for more than a few months and I've grown increasingly discontent with acquiring comforts and living life on easy mode. Where's the challenge? Where's the adventure? 

This blog is going to be my journal, my chronicling of my journey. My plan is to circumnavigate the world with only my laptop, basic supplies and what little money I could get from selling all of my possessions. I will use couchsurfing, work-a-way and rideshare to increase my chances of accomplishing my lofty goal. Along the way, I'll be filming my experience and posting it on here for all to see. I hope to expose you to some incredible things and to join me as I meet the people of this crazy world, including YOU! 

So join me, as I try to do, quite possibly, the stupidest idea I've ever conceived. It promises to be a most interesting ride!

“It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to.” 

― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings