adrenalin-laced plans

I am still wrestling with saddle fit, tired of writing about it so will report back when I either get it fixed or get another saddle.

In the meantime, beginning to feel a strange and heady mixture of pressure, excitement and fear as the days lengthen and my vague, untidy dream begins to crystalize into a real plan. I know this feeling well. It's a constant low-level adrenalin current that thrums beneath my breath every waking moment when I'm about to do something crazy, inevitable and terrifying. I felt it when I moved to New York City. When I left my NYC life for Tucson. I felt the undercurrent during my marriage engagement. While preparing for a performance piece on a NY subway. When I stuck out my thumb on a highway in France. When I bought a wagon gear and began shopping for a mule. Some of these adventures were wonderful, some not so much, some mixed. The adrenalin undercurrent does not predict outcome. It predicts another crack in the mirror of who I think I am, who I can become.

In an effort to be more "responsible" "practical" "realistic," I had scaled back my grandiose long-ride plan to a modest 2-month jaunt to NM, either a short loop or trailering back from Albuquerque. I would follow close to I-10 and up I-25, pretty much the route I've driven for decades. I know this short plan is doable and knew it would calm the concerns of loved ones. It showed I was mature and sensible, not straying too far from the safety net of home and work.

Only problem being, it totally deflated the dream. Drained all the passion from it. My grand adventure was now a little vacation. And a foolishly dangerous one, at that. Why take such great risks without a great need? I don't need a vacation. I need a journey. A journey to the center of this beautiful and yearning country with my mule. To observe, to listen, to record, to carry messages.

The geographical center of the US is, approximately, Kansas City.

That's still where I want to go.

And so I have begun mapping my route. I am using Google Maps. I've discovered the only route that seems to have towns spaced conveniently 20 miles or less apart is, roughly, the interstates that replaced Route 66. From Albuquerque that is I-40 to Oklahoma City, then I-44 E, then any one of a few state routes north. I'm hoping the countryside is more populated than it looks and I can take more back roads. But in the interests of letting people know where I'll be so they can ride with me, I'll list the cities on that path. The unknown is still how to get across the empty dry stretches of AZ and NM. (Water, water...) (Safe camping spots..) (Grazing...)

The other unknown is - how will Butch and I return to Tucson at journey's end?

At the moment, that is a matter of blind faith.

March 17 might be too soon a leave date. There is still much to be done, and I would like to wait until night temps are in the 60s. (30s-40s now.) Then again, May is too late to start out in the desert. So, sometime between mid-March and mid-April.

Just bought hobbles. Trailering Butch to the mountains for a ride tomorrow. Our first real overnight highlined campout, with friends, next week.