A Fleeting Mountain (and Graffiti)

The Missing Mt. Hood

The Missing Mt. Hood


October 3, 2015 6:32 PM

When I wake up in the morning, I’m usually quite awake and alert and cognizant. This morning, I woke up, looked out the window, and noticed Mt. Hood was missing.

My first thought was I wasn’t camped where I thought I had camped. My next thought, as silly as it was (but minds are silly that way sometimes), was Mt. Hood really was missing and this was a fantastic and mind boggling synchronicity to the “fleeting” theme from yesterday’s post. … Read more…

Why I Love Little Jugs

Day 8. Zero People.

Day 8. Zero People.

NE MT. HOOD SITE #2—I’ve been putting in a good 6–12 solid hours a day coding for the last few days. Sounds miserable, but I’ve been enjoying it. I’m writing all the code from scratch and—as any programmer will tell you—that’s always much more fun than bending and tweaking and hacking at someone else’s crappy code.

Suck a geek, I know.

But after awhile—sitting in your van, all by your lonesome—you start to feel the need for some company, a need to satisfy something a little more primal, which brings me to the title of this post.

I. Like. Little. Jugs.

And if you live the nomad life, you should like little jugs too. Not big jugs, big jugs are way too ungainly for a true nomad. You want a set of little jugs. The kind that will fit easily in the palm of your hand.

Why you may ask?

Well, as it just so happens, while I was down in Hood River yesterday experiencing the flavors and scents and sights and sounds of civilization, just as I was finishing up lunch and getting ready to head back up the mountain where the temperatures are cooler, I saw this article on LifeHacker about storing your eggs and that got me thinking about, well, you know, and I just had to stop what I was doing and go out and find me a nice little pair of jugs. Shouldn’t be too hard. I’ve got skills and I’m an old hand at these things.

Now how did my mind go from eggs storage to the the image of a nice set of jugs?

Simple. You see I’m talking about tupperware jugs you dirty minded bastard. And eggs. Chicken eggs. Chicken eggs and tupperware jugs. Sheez.

Crack your eggs, drop them in a little tupperware jug, and shake them up. A one liter jug will hold at least 18 eggs. I know this for a fact because I had just bought 18 eggs at the Safeway and as any nomad will tell you, eggs are a bear to store in our little refrigerators. Furthermore, no matter how you try—laying the cartons flat or standing them on end or sticking them in those little plastic egg holders (don’t get me started)—at least one out of every dozen will crack and make a mess of your refrigerator when you live in a home that experiences the equivalent of a major earthquake on a regular basis.

Plus a single little one liter jug takes up less than half the room of two egg cartons. Sweet.

Little jugs. Get two so you can rotate them and keep them clean.

We now return to our regularly scheduled program(ing).

Little Jug. Lots of Eggs.

Little Jug. Lots of Eggs.

This May Be The End

REDINGER LAKE, CA—I’m going to try to get this post out before the end. Don’t if I’ll make or not… .

Trackpad is screwing up. Double-clicks, single-clicks, drags and drops all on its own. Seems to go into a semi-infinite loop once every few minutes and locks u.


Can’t scroll now. Backspace is giving ooouut. KKKeeeyyyss reepeeeaating aat raandom. Argh…

Lks lk anther trip to Fresssssnooooo.

Aaaaaaahhh, keyboooard is goinggg nnoow…

Wwwwill rite bacsooon


But It’s A Life I Kinda Like

Bridge Over The River Redinger

Bridge Over The River Redinger

REDINGER LAKE, CA—With only a few gallons of water and rapidly dwindling supplies, it seemed it was time to leave this quiet and beautiful place.

As I climbed into the front seat, I took a last look around at the clear lake and the lush woods and the solitude and thought, why not come back? Why move on? I’ve got nowhere to go and no time schedule to keep and no commitments to fulfill when I don’t get there anyway.

So I made an out-of-the-way trip north to make a round-about trip south back down to Fresno for supplies, making note of a few potential camps I might use on my way to Yosemite (or not) and picked up some food and some water and stealth camped for the night, then did my laundry in the morning and made the three requisite runs into Lowe’s and satisfied my craving for Thai (for food, not girls, but that would have been nice too).

When I designed this rig, I designed it to hold a little over a week’s supply of water since my past had taught me that after a week I’d get restless and bored and head into town anyway, even if I didn’t break camp. But when this far from civilization—and surrounded by such beauty—a week’s worth of water is too little to have and too limiting a factor and too easy to fix so I picked up an extra six gallon can for a total of 18 which should give me enough for two weeks in one place when I feel the need to stay in one place for two weeks.

Restocked with food and water and parts for some minor rig tweeks, I drove back up the long and winding fraction-over-a-single-lane hair-pin mountain road in which every mile or so would appear a cow, a lethargic massive bovine, standing dead center mid-lane around a blind mountain curve staring dully at the interruption to her otherwise tranquil day (a factor contributing to why this place is so empty no doubt) and eventually arrived at my camp where I parked and I stripped and I went for a chilly but wonderful swim in a clear mountain lake in a beautiful forest in the middle of nowhere.

The life of the van dweller—and the mystic for that matter—is not a life for everyone. It’s a life of uncertainty and of sacrifice and of solitude.

But it’s a life I kinda like.

Why I Suck

Abandoned Barn

OUTSIDE MAGDALENA, NM—The title is a play on a post from awhile ago, Why You Suck, but enough about you already, let’s talk about me.

The reason I don’t have a large following, why I’m not spiritually business savvy, why I suck as a spiritual “teacher”—aside from being openly transparent—is because I have a distinct lack of focus.

She’s got me talking about way too many things.

Adyashanti’s got his Emptiness. Tolle’s got his Presence. Katie’s got her Turnaround.

Uggh. Gag me with a spoon. Seriously, enlightenment is sooo boring. I mean really, how long can you talk about Nothing? It’s like a Seinfeld episode with all the funny parts removed, “It’s a show about Nothing!”

Most spiritual teachers are successful because they have focus, but I suck because I’m all over the place.

I don’t have a clear message.

Should my message be:

What should my focus be?

I don’t know. She’s got me all over the place.

Which is why I suck.

Top 10 Odd Ways People Find Me

My Home On Navajo Lake

NAVAJO LAKE SP, NM—Some odd search terms people use to find me:

The Noisy Valley

Taos Ski Valley

Taos Ski Valley, NM—I’ve moved to the ski area above Taos because I needed a faster internet connection to prep for the book launch. I was hoping to stay a week or so, but it’s pretty noisy up here with the cars and trucks straining to make it up the steep grade, the crickets/locusts in heat (or whatever they’re doing), horses whinnying and clopping, brooks babbling, and those damn trees just won’t quit their constant rustling. Don’t even get me started on the birds that won’t shut up. It’s miserable.

But it’s free and it’s cool way up here in the stratosphere, so maybe I’ll tough it out for another couple days.