Ketchup

On the way into town I had to use my high beam as the low burnt out on me. Cindy had to sit the day out today as I ran around getting necessary parts for her. My friend was kind enough to lend me his car. I felt detached from the outside world. There was so much going on around me and all of it was blocked from my senses.

My appetite rushed me off to Mother’s Bistro. Every time I am in town this is a must. Mother makes it best and the salmon hash is to-die-for. Was joined by another beautiful rambler soul and got to have a new friendship re-introduced to me. I cannot wait to start living here and rebuild meaningful friendships with people that share the same interests as my newly acquired life.

Ran off to visit a friend at a jobsite and then it was off to Latus Harley Davidson in Gladstone. I would always pass by this place when I lived here. I would see all the bikers gathering and it all seemed so alien to me. I did not understand what a biker was at the time and didn’t really care for it. Little did I know that I was missing out on some very interesting people and experiences. I am glad I eventually came around and joined their ranks.

Several other visits to other friends and then I was able to pick up my daughter and spend the rest of my day with her. It was off to her favorite place Olive Garden. Took my daughter to a friends house and got to catch up with everyone there.

Just a day of running errands and catching up with friends that I had not seen for a long time, I would not want to bore you too much with the details. Body and mind rested up a bit and I was excited to be training tomorrow.

Grandiose Welcome

Sleep in regular bed is always nice. By this time I had noticed that there was several of us on the same path of travel. You start to run into and pass the same people over and over. There was a late 80’s Mercedes station wagon with a paddleboard atop and a elderly gentleman with a snow white short stubby beard. There were the 2 bikers, one a Goldwing and the other on a 1^st generation Honda crotch rocket. Between the 3 of us it looked like we could unpack and set up a small village with all the gear we had strapped to our bikes. The Goldwing had a stuffed animal monkey sitting on the rear luggage box attached to the antenna. Regardless of who we are, what we are driving or riding, and where we are heading we all have something to talk about and something in common. We travelers are not lost, we just never stop seeking. I thought back to the concrete jungle New York. So many people that grow up seeing anything but the city, so many people trapped in their cubicle jobs, so many people on autopilot missing out on all of the beauty out there and the interaction with others who have caught on.

The temperature was chilly but the sunshine was bright. I knew it would eventually warm up and I was glad I made the decision to push through the nasty weather. Every clearing in clouds you look at all that surrounds you and realize it was all worth it. There was a few spots where the gas stations were few and far between. The higher elevation didn’t help my fuel air ratio in the carbureted engine. I was pushing it and on one stretch had to use my reserve. Made it up a massive hill and felt Cindy sputter. I quickly shut the engine off and coasted down the hill in neutral. Ahead of me another hill, I started her up again and pulled back on the throttle being careful not to open her up too much, just enough to make it up the hill. The 2^nd hill was a success but my last. I pulled the bike over and took my gear off. I was going to sweat a bit so might as well make it as comfortable as possible. I was lucky, there was a pilot station at an exit only ½ a mile away. Started to push the Cindy in the direction of her watering hole. It was good to strain my legs a bit, haven’t had a leg day in a minute. I only had to push half of the distance and another one of the travelers that I had been crossing paths with stopped to give me a lift. Another fellow biker on a BMW with a single wheeled trailer. He dropped me off at the gas station, I bought a gallon tank, and gave me a ride back up a frontage road right to the bike. I jumped the fence, filled her up and was back on the road in no time. About 2 fill-ups from that one, I ran out of gas once more. This time the next service station was at least 15 miles away and the additional gallon that I now had was a lifesaver.

I stopped at Smokehouse BBQ and Saloon and had some… yes you guessed it BBQ. It was a cozy little town tuck up against the steep hills and huddled around a small creek that ran through town. Again I ran into other travelers that I had passed and re-passed as I needed to fill up more often than they did. As I finished my meal I looked around the shelf that ran the perimeter of the saloon. A bunch of familiar labels and names decorated the otherwise dull bottles. A majority of them had been Oregon breweries, and it made me feel close. A lot of old pictures of the building from years back, all taken in the middle of different seasons. I imagined this place in the winter. Two tracks would run the length of the road from a heavy snowfall, the snowplows giving favor to the more traveled interstate. The saloon would be packed with bodies trying to warm themselves with a warm meal, a drink, and some laughter from catching up with the other locals. Once in a while the little bells on the door would ring alerting everyone of an addition to the pack. They would shoot the arriving party an unpleasant look, as they wanted to keep all of the warm air selfishly to themselves and not share with the outside that was trying to creep through the door as it opened briefly. I would like to live in a place like this when it’s hardest to do so, just to experience it.

I eventually took off all of my warm riding gear as the mountains subsided and gave way to the higher deserts of eastern Washington. I was making good time. The lack of gear exposed more of my skin and I could feel the sun starting to burn rather than warm. As I crossed into Oregon my heart sang. Portland has quite the introduction to travelers. It puffs its chest and shows off as you come down the Columbia River Gorge. I traveled to all the states only to realize that the most beautiful one was the one I turned my back on. The lighting was perfect and I caught the gorge at sunset. As I passed by familiar landmarks I was reminded of the memories behind them. The miles went extremely quickly as my attention was occupied by the beauty surrounding me rather than the progress. Before I knew it I had made it to my friends house. I sat on Cindy for a minute letting it all soak in. It was difficult to fully comprehend the feat that I had partially completed. My head was buzzing. Vadim set me up with a bed whose softness matched the bed my brother provided for me in Minnesota. The rest is history.

Rugged Country

After such an amazing day and some epic progress I was rewarded with a horrible night. The cold concrete picnic tabletop would let me know of its temperature even through all of my cloths and sleeping bag. I would sleep with one arm under my head and switch every 30-45 minutes because my arm would go numb. My body could not wait to get out of this position and rest awake. “slept” for 3 hours and my body was done with the torture. I awoke and could see the hills have gotten much larger from what was visible at dusk. Their peaks would disappear into a cold fog. I geared up and looked at the forecast. More rain and chilly temperatures made me cringe but hit the road anyways.

I was moving against the rain and made through it quickly. Montana took me in with open arms. Her roads were like smooth rolling waves. Cindy would sink down and pop back up the whole time and it was a pleasant change. The small gas stations that I stopped at only had cowboys and Indians. Both living in peace now and weathered and worked. Montanan’s looked like a hardworking bunch and nothing came easy to them.

Made it over several passes and again the weather went sour. This time the cold came in colder and the rain was able to make itself felt more because of it. The darker clouds would bring with them hail, and at speed limit it felt like the pellets would tear through my gear and bloody up my gloveless knuckles. The prior nights sleep started to take its toll and I went as far as I could go and made it to Butte where I stopped to eat dinner. As I sat down other bikers in the dining hall recognized me as one of their own and we started to chat. Snow was in the forecast and it had forced them to stop here and wait out the cold. I am risky but not that risky. I too chose to get a room. I got all of my gear scattered out in the room and cranked up the heat for it to work its magic. Life is so much sweeter when there is a soft bed waiting to take you in after a cold, wet, hard day. I was warm and sleeping in no time.

No Goodbyes, Only See You Laters

Wasn’t easy seeing the Ozerkov men disappear in my side view mirrors. The older I grow the more I appreciate all that my parents have done for me. The older I grow the more I regret not being there to see my brother grow from a boy into a man. I am so proud of my brother for all of his accomplishments and mostly for not taking after the example that I was setting for him when I lived with my family. It is so easy for a brother to fallow in the footsteps of an older sibling. I was far from perfect and am so glad that he did not make the mistakes that I did when I was younger.

The weather was the most pleasant in this trip thus far. The sun would warm you just right and the cool breeze would cool you just enough to allow you to enjoy all that was zipping past me without stressing about the weather conditions. My full attention was on my surroundings. Went through SW Minnesota and she had a new addition to the horizon. The landscape was littered with electricity producing windmills. Like a connect the dots puzzle that wasn’t yet complete the mills would be connected by invisible underground cables that eventually lead to larger electrical stations that would produce all the wires above ground and go the next batch of mills.

The ground was comprised of mostly grasslands and Cindy’s gargle would occasionally spook a grouse or pheasant that happened to be nestled a bit too close to the side of the road. It would take off in a flutter and fly just enough to get away from the threat it assumed from the noise landing in recently sprouted corn or soy fields. The ride was perfect, too good to be true. I should have not thought that. All of the sudden the music cut out in my ear buds. For about a minute I though at first it was the reception on my phone, but I had a gut feeling it was something worse. I let go of the gas and looked into my tank bag. The clear cover made it possible to see everything that was in it and everything that was not. My phone was among the not. My heart sank and I quickly began to look for a place to turn around to go look for it. Turned around and started to think of what I will need to do at the next city in order to get a new phone. I clearly did not believe I was going to find it or that it much less survived the 70 mph tumble. I backtracked about 3 miles and took the side of the road. My eyes raced across the surface of the road and the side of it. Every piece of torn up truck tread fooled me into excitement as I though I had surely found it. Nothing… made it to where I initially turned around. “Again”, I thought to myself and went for a second lap. This time before starting on the road where it potentially lay smashed, I stopped Cindy and cut the engine. I bowed my head and said a quick prayer. Started back up again, same pieces of tread teased me. About ¾ of the way through I saw it! A once in a million spotting! I saw it not in plain view on the asphalt but in the grass about 6’ in from the edge of the road. I parked Cindy and ran back the distance that it took me to stop. Sure enough the phone lay facing me. My case was completely obliterated and torn off the phone. I could not find any evidence of its existence anywhere. The phone though, the phone was unscathed. Pressed the button and screen lit up like nothing ever happened. Got back on Cindy, put my headphones in and turned up my Pandora Praise and Worship station.

South Dakota continued in the same flat manner and towards dusk I started to get to the hills. I imagined a time when buffalo dominated the environment. I recalled a conversation that I had with a family friend while in Minnesota. There had been no remaining pureblooded North American Buffalo remaining. They had all been slowly inbred with domesticated cattle and a species disappeared. Pity, but the at the time of settling the west Native Indians had posed a threat to the expansion of the colonial US. Get rid of the Buffalo and the Indians will succumb to a similar fate. The Midwest is covered in many historical markers of battles that were fought between those defending their homelands and those taking over them.

There was just enough light to see the start of the Badlands to my left. The hilly landscape made it possible for water to do what it does best. The same grasslands would blanket the hills but the water would eventually overcome the grasses that tried to keep the topsoil together and wash out the edges of the slopes exposing the sandy surface below. The exposed subsurface was an injury whose scab kept getting picked at and could never heal. I was in a race and could not turn off to the see the badlands and kept going. Stopped at a gas station and to grab some food. While I was waiting for my order to arrive the TV was blaring thunderstorm alerts. I took my time eating. As I came out the sky was lit with lightening. I could not wait and started up Cindy, and hit the road quickly before my goggles had a chance to fog up. Made it to Wyoming and rode for as far as I could go. It was 2 am and the only thing around was a rest area. It had started to rain again and the wind was strong and cold. I did not want to set up the tent so went under a picnic shelter, unrolled my sleeping back on the concrete picnic tabletop and fell asleep. I would not wait to see the Rockies tomorrow.

The Inspiration

The recent days have just been flying by. Between family and friends there had been no time to sit back and relax. Today wasn't going to be any different, but at least today we train!

Have been meaning to train with a family friend for quite some time and last time I was in the state it would not have been appropriate as I was here for his brother's funeral. I have little Vlad to thank for inspiring me to stop living for myself and give back more. Out of all the people I grew up with David is the only one that got into martial arts. It is rare that kids of conservative Slavic immigrants get into such things and I felt proud of David for getting in there and fighting hard. I grew up with these kids running around all over the place causing a ruckus. I used to call them the Little Chechens. To see David all grown up, tall and strong made me feel proud. I left Minnesota when he was a boy, I returned to find him a man.

Trained at Valhalla Combat Sports just north of Anoka. Coach James Clark led the class. We warmed up with some rounds on the bags and then did some sparring. James brought his son in to work on some boxing and asked that I spar with him a bit. I thoroughly enjoyed getting my butt handed to me by this little guy. Fast hands, amazing footwork, and fluid pivoting made me look like a chump. I especially liked the fallowing combination; jab, cross, hook, shovel hook. After the regular hook lands he sold a fake cross well and slipped in for that shovel hook. It was beautiful. The kid will go places. Got to spar with David and another friend that came with him. I had finally got my fighting fix and added more members to my fighting family. They referred me to a sister gym that had a champion Muay Thai instructor but I was short on time. Showered up and off to the next item on my to-do list.

Hurried off to my sisters house to have lunch with the best nephew, sister, brother, and mom in the world. Never spend as much time with them as I would like, something I need to work on. when i just came into town my nephew scolded me, my bike, and my bike gear waiving his finger at me and saying, "nuu nuu nu!" With all the goodbyes he couldn't help but get over his fear of Cindy and succumb to all of its features that make it so attractive to a little boy. He climbed up on the bike with me for a few pictures and his imitation of riding. 

Needed to hurry as a ominous cloud was moving in from beyond the horizon. Ran off to get some groceries to prepare for "Russian Banya Night". Those of you unaware of this tradition must find a way to experience it for yourself. The "banya" or sauna, isn't just a place, it is a conversation, laughs, health, friendship, and full stomach. Had several friends get together and we spent the evening eating, drinking, and being merry. My father was especially happy as the previous Banya Nights I organized ended in a majority of the people getting really intoxicated. I have since quit drinking and there was less drama this time and bigger smiles coming from pops. As people began to leave I could feel my eyes closing on me. The body starts to shut down after a good Banya. I don't even remember hitting the pillow. Must have been sleep walking into the house.

I once was blind

Again early morning, I think you are beginning to notice a pattern here. It was a Sunday and a church day. I was reminded of how I felt as a kid about this day. It was laborious, the waking up, making sure your slacks and dress shirt were ironed and you looked presentable. I would find a comfortable seat on the last pew, rest my elbows on my knees and chin in my hands and sleep in church better that anywhere else. I was spiritually asleep as well, this re-awakening cannot come with a forced religious routine. I had years of shaking my fist at the man upstairs trying to prove to him that my way is possible. Like swimming against the current of a steady river I stayed in one spot. He kept handing me 2^nd, 3^rd, 4^th, and so many more chances and I swatted his offers away. Until I was in a complete dead end in all aspects of my life. I seek him now. So I sat attentively at the edge of my seat listening to what my father had to say. He is the best preacher I have ever heard. Many of you reading this will agree. When at the pulpit the man transforms into a fireball of charisma, passion, and genuine concern and caring for his flock.

Got to see some familiar faces after the service and went to a childhood friend’s house. The feeling of being so welcomed and seeing friends and family after being so absent for such a longtime is something you cannot duplicate. Almost worth staying away for such a long time… almost…

The rest of the day went in a similar manner, catching up with friends and family. Every moment of the day strategically planned to be used to the utmost efficiency. Riding around town I would glance over at fitness venues and feel like I was cheating myself for not training. I had one more day and I would be back at the gym training with a family friend the next day. Hurry up and sleep so I can wake up and get to what tomorrow has in store for me.