Preparation for the journey: Getting rid of the garbage

I had been thinking of this day for almost a year.

Initially I thought it would look like a motorcycle road trip with my three boys where we would head to the crash site and pick up the shoe we had dropped off the previous year. As the date inched closer I realized that I couldn't bear the feeling of vulnerability of all three travelling with their motorcycles on the busy highway. I then thought about a car road trip in the Subaru with the music cranked.

I had to acknowledge that Noah had significant input seeing as this time was also his birthday. I knew the road trip was out when he had decided that he needed to go "off grid" and have a low-key weekend.

My good friend Erik had his oldest girl getting married that weekend. I pondered that maybe losing myself in fun and fellowship would be the trick. Nope that didn't feel quite right. I knew that for me it wasn't just about "the day" it was starting to feel like a multi day process. If that is the case, I knew that I process best on the open highway on a motorcycle…




"you see things on a motorcycle in a way that is completely different from any other. In a car you're always in a compartment, and because you're used to it you don't realize that through the car window everything you see is just more TV. You're a passive observer and it is all moving by you boringly in a frame.


On a cycle the frame is gone. You're completely in contact with it all. You're in the scene, not just watching it anymore, and the sense of presence is overwhelming. That concrete whizzing by five inches below your foot is the real thing, the same stuff you walk on, it's right there, so blurred you can't focus on it, yet you can put your foot down and touch it anytime, and the whole thing, the whole experience, is never removed from immediate consciousness."  p. 12  ZMM

Another quote to supplement this idea, "To truly experience the serenity. The core senses, sight, touch, smell, hearing and taste must be involved". On a motorcycle all this is possible, if one is willing to go off the beaten path.

The crash site no longer holds the same energy it once had over me. One of the last pieces for me is Baxter's shoe that was hidden in the bush close to the scene of the crash. When Baxter's girlfriend Emilee told me that she was probably passing through that weekend and could pick up the shoe, it was settled. I was not going to be the one to pick up the shoe. I could delegate that task to her. This made sense to me. It felt right.

The framework for the pilgrimage was starting to come together. I think the "destination" of the trip gelled at some point on my motorcycle trip with Erik and Brian this summer. I use the word destination loosely because I have learned over the years that it is the journey that is the destination.

"we want to make good time, but for us now this is measured with emphasis on 'good' rather than 'time' and when you make that shift in emphasis the whole approach changes. Twisting hilly roads are long in terms of seconds but are much more enjoyable on a cycle where you bank into turns and don't get swung from side to side in any compartment, Roads with little traffic are more enjoyable, as well as safer, Roads free of drive-ins and billboards are better, roads where groves and meadows and orchards and lawns come almost to the shoulder, where kids wave to you when you ride by, where people look from their porches to see who it is, where when you stop to ask directions or information the answer tends to be longer than you want rather than short, where people ask where you're from and how long you have been riding" p.13 ZMM


I know that this was on my mind when I planned my trip with Baxter. When I selected Highway 20, it contained most of these elements. Few crossroads or intersections exist on this highway and there are even sections of the road that continue to remain unpaved.

I had not traveled this highway since I discovered that road with Baxter 11 years ago. I had proposed to Erik and Brian a short leg of this highway during out summer trip but we were turned east at 100 Mile House on account of the weather (and the sugar cube personality of my fellow riders).

It was settled then, my goal was to travel to Bella Coola. I knew that the framework of this trip would contain all the ingredients necessary to fulfill my wants. It was like the flow of the old memories could intertwine with the reality of his death in order to create a complex fabric that would be flexible and trans-formative and support my healing journey. You see for me the word scar is just too inflexible and sterile. I would rather create the space for opportunity and for miracles to emerge after trauma leaves it's indelible mark on our lives.

September third was filled with planning and packing and keeping my mind focused the current trip… not what had occurred just 12 months before. I didn't think of the time of impact from the accident report. The time he lay on the road and numerous first Responders and good Samaritans came to his aid, making his last few moments on this earth comfortable.

You see I had checklists to go through, stuff to find, and shit to load on my motorcycle. I thought it was interesting after passing through Stoner, I realized I didn't bring any of his "ashes".  Hmmmm I thought about doubling back or calling someone to grab them and meet me halfway. Maybe that wasn't going to be part of my journey. As I continued down the road I was convinced that this ritual would get in the way of me unloading the garbage of Baxter's crash site.

You see Noah and River and I had picked up much of the bits and pieces that were strewn over the highway at the scene of the accident. We did this in the dark with flashlights, headlamps, and cell phone lights. This green shopping bag contained much of the energy of the crash site that was removed from the site on that first trip. I had been stumbling across it at different times throughout the year thinking, "I’ve got to sift through this some day.”

On this trip I would have the time, experience and the contemplative space to "sift through the garbage." When the materials were gathered I had thought that it was important to identify each piece. I wanted to see if I could connect it to his car or the RV that he had collided with, and any stuff not fitting would be considered irrelevant.

As I began my journey I would take one piece at a time, make a connection and toss it into the trash. Every rest stop or garbage can I came across would get a new deposit. I quickly realized that I was not going to be able to assess each piece of the garbage. Instead of struggling with this fact, I allowed myself to let the thoughts and feelings flow around this realization while I enjoyed the motorcycle and connected with the surrounding space.