Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Sam And Molly Drive Out West!

 

I did this drawing in the car en route to Los Angeles in July. After a 10-hour journey from Milwaukee airport to Dallas to Phoenix that morning, Sam and I literally threw a giant convertible blow-up bed/couch, an immaculately packed tent and far too many clothes for two girls and a 4-day road trip into her car, and took off. 8 hours, a few torturous snippets of 50 Shades of Grey and a brief detour on the coastline (at which it was too dark to see anything, and we'd driven two hours out of our way), we found ourselves in BuFu California or; Bakersville. Don't judge my artistic skills on this drawing. I was really fucking tired.

 

Eventually the following day we made it another 4 hours to Yosemite National Park or, THE GREATEST PLACE ON EARTH. But not before perusing the local fineries (Target) and watching the shoes I had lusted after for months be unceremoniously purchased by Sam. Traitorous bitch. Somehow we managed to find what I assume is the area's one and only free campsite via a crotchety old man whom we befriended at the local B&B. I really wanted to stay there. Sam really wanted to get scared by bears (we still don't know if they are more or less attracted to women that are menstruating).

 

Despite the fact that Sam necessitates at least one shower per day -- absolutely BEFORE doing anything at all that day -- and my hygienic needs are practically nonexistent by that standard, we are the most compatible travelers ever that have ever walked this planet. Except maybe Lewis and Clark. Wait, did one of them piss off the other? Did Pocahontas screw something up? Fuck it, Sam and I are the most Compatible Travelers Ever, Ever.

 

CASE IN POINT: on our second day at Yosemite we both really wanted to Climb Something. We chose the Upper Falls, being that it was the longest hike that would fit into the remaining light we had. It's an estimated 6-8 hour hike, in which you climb a round trip of 3 miles up this godforsaken-ly steep mountain, at which point you are privileged with the most amazing view of the valley below. And you get to swim in the waterfall. And climb to the very tippy tippy edge where the water begins to cascade downward, if you are so daring. I WAS so daring.

 

Notice that I don't mention Sam at this point? That's because halfway up the mountain she decided she'd had enough of Mother Nature, thanks, and headed back from whence we came. I, on the other hand, had some sort of death wish and obviously no consideration for my inadequately prepared leg muscles and finished the climb. IT SUCKED. But never have I ever been prouder of myself. Nor more abhorred that I climbed to the tippy tippy fucking edge of a fucking waterfall are you fucking crazy??

 

But this is what makes Sam and I the Most Compatible Travelers Ever, Ever. Because we know that at any time we can look at each other and say "get away from me, please" and go climb a mountain or sit and journal only to make friends with a guy transcribing his voicemails onto a banana. That's what she got. Even after the epic climb, I was kind of jealous.

 

A lot happened on that trip that solidified both our friendship and our faith in ourselves. My big moment was making it up and down that mountain -- on a smoker's lungs, no less. On my way down there was this little blue jay following me for a good half mile or so. The next day, I got him tattooed on my arm and it remains my favorite piece thus far.

 

I've been running around a lot today and though I don't have quite the accomplishment to pin it onto, I feel kind of how I did that day. Tired, but victorious. I think I've conquered something today. Or maybe it's just the coffee.

 

 

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