Days 22 and 23 – June 10 and 11 Last Chance Idaho – Hello Washington

I spent most of the day June 10 driving through Idaho. I broke camp in no hurry, and was on the road about 9 a.m. Deciding, as usual, to take the route that seemed the most scenic, I meandered along through the mountains from east to west, turning north to drive the highway that runs along the Payette River. It’s a beautiful drive, and the river runs fast through the first hour or so of it. I pulled over a few times just to watch the water tumble and smash over the invisible rocks, and was rewarded once by watching two kayakers navigate and negotiate the water.

There were a few vehicles pulled over, kayaks strapped to the top, waiting to be unloaded by men and women in wet suits and helmets. The places where they were parked seemed impossible to put in, but my guess is these are veterans at this business of running the river in their small crafts.

Not sure why it is significant, but seemed so . . .

Not sure where my final destination for the day would be, I simply headed for northern Idaho. As the day lengthened, I began to check the map for available campsites along the most scenic routes. I found Bell Bay Campground on the shores of Couer d’Alene, a large lake near Spokane, Washington. With no expectations, I drove to the campground.

The winding, three-mile road from the highway took me past farmland and forest. As I wound around to the lake, I spotted a cell tower atop a hill. I always feel like I’ve hit pay dirt when I have cell service, and here I had four bars of 4G. What a bonus.

The campsite sat right on the edge of the lake. There were only a few families in the campground, most campers having left for the work week I suppose, and it was quiet and lovely. I met a young mother with her two daughters who had decided to extend their weekend away by just another day, and the camp hosts – a lovely couple in their 60s I assume – stopped by to see if I needed anything, but other than that I had no intrusion on the quiet.

Deep valleys where the Nez Pierce called home

Finding this campsite, if you’ve been following my travels at all, was not an anomaly.  Time and again, I’ve found, without much planning at all, a really nice place to camp for the night. So it is curious to note that I, every day as the time approaches to find a place, get anxious. This is just one of the recurring anxieties I experience on the trip. I sometimes worry about what trails to take, whether I’ll be able to hike them, and if I’ve overshot my abilities. And I am constantly haunted by the looming month of July when I embark upon the John Muir Trail.

 

Thinking about this last night, I realized that I’m battling fear almost every day in one form or another. Eleanor Roosevelt’s quote comes to mind: “Do one thing every day that frightens you.” It seems I took that to heart. And I’m a person who likes to think I don’t live my life in fear of much. I’m certainly not an anxious person by nature, but on this trip there’s so much new and I’m doing so many things alone for the first time, I find myself in this almost constant state of anxiety. That is NOT how I want to live.

The pressure to be afraid is unfortunately strong in this human life we live. When I talk about the trip, one of the most common comments I get, from women especially, is "you're so brave" and one of the most common questions people ask me  is if I carry a gun. My regular response has been no, and to say I don’t want to emit that kind of energy – and I believe that. There’s not one ounce of me that wants to carry a gun. And I do believe we attract things to ourselves by our actions and decisions. But that said, I also know we, as human beings, often experience things that DO hurt us – physically and emotionally. I most certainly can fall and break my leg, get attacked by a bear or another human, or could run off the road on a mountain pass. But I have always chosen to live my life trying not to worry about those things.

But I have been worrying. The feeling of anxiety certainly seems to be testament to that. So how do I stop worrying? How do I trust that I get just what I need from the universe – no more and no less. It’s not like I can pick and choose; I’ll have the experiences I’ll have, regardless of the best planning and incessant worrying if I so choose.  

This is an important discussion –one that goes to the heart of this journey I’m on. I am a student of consciousness. My greatest desire, above all else, is to wake up to essence of who I am – who we all are – beyond these temporal bodies, minds, and emotional repositories. If I am awake to that true nature, there is absolutely never any reason to be afraid. As Byron Katie says, “Everything happens for us, not to us.” There is a trust that whatever happens is exactly what is best for me, even if it seems painful or disastrous. If I know all this, I wonder why I can’t live it with my whole being.

So I’ve decided to try to remember this when I feel the fear coming on. I’ve decided to question those fears and see what lies within them. And to trust that the universe is giving me exactly what I need at all times. What is arising might not feel like it’s what I need, and I may not like it, but that’s irrelevant. I think there’s a point of maturing spiritually that we realize what we think is best has not a whole lot to do with what’s best. That trying to visualize a perfect world and perfect outcomes, based on the oh-so-limited vision that we have, is just silly. My goal, then, is to welcome what arises on this journey without question. To walk into the experience whether it seems comfortable or not. And I have a strong sense that I will find comfort there regardless. It may not be the typical, garden-variety comfort we’ve come to think we need in our lives to be happy and content, but it will be comfort of a deeper sort. The kind of comfort that defies understanding and logic.

Having meditated on all this last night, I arose today with a new sense of adventure.

I left my campsite and headed toward the Colville National Forest and The Little Pend Oreille (pronounced “pondaray”) National Wildlife Refuge where I planned to camp. I stopped at a Walmart to restock a few things, met a lovely man while walking in from the car who suggested I visit the Grand Coulee Dam, and if I did to look him up, and stopped along the way to do laundry and catch up on the internet business I needed to do.  I chose to remember that each person I encountered today was intentional – that we had some little business to do, even if it was just to say hello in passing.

When I got to Colville, I found the National Forestry Service office with no effort, and visited for almost an hour with Nancy, the woman manning the desk.  She gave me all sorts of information and literature on the area and the hikes and campgrounds available. She asked me to send her an email and update her on my adventures, so I sent her the blog address. What a wonderfully helpful and kind woman she was.

I’m camped now, in a primitive campsite in the refuge, with not another soul in sight at either this collection of campsites or at the other one I looked at. And I’m content, not anxious. I’ll get up in the morning, and armed with all sorts of information, find a hike to take. I won’t worry if it will be too long or too short, too strenuous or too easy. I’m just going to pick a hike and go for it. And see what in the world the universe has in store for me tomorrow. 

Namaste.