The Plan

It is always wisest to have a plan, EVEN if IT is WRONG!

I'm decided on a plan for the upcoming 30th birthday. I'm going to go for a hike in New York. There's this trail that starts on the other side of the GW bridge in Jersey and runs almost all the way to Albany. I once, after a particularly grueling final, walked about 25 miles of it (plus the distance from the Upper West Side to the other side of the bridge). It took me from noon until 11PM. I had no money and only a snapple and a kit kat bar for provisions, and by 11 I was pretty damned cramped and tired. I'm going to walk as much of it as I can in a week.

To this end, I will be obtaining maps (I LOVE maps) and contacting the trail maintanance society to find out about places to stay &c.... I doubt that camping is legal on the trail, but I plan to bring my sleeping bag and bivouac just in case. During the last walk, I got stuck without a place to stay and, it being December and quite cold, I was forced to phone a friend for a ride. This time, I'd like for things to go a little more smoothly, but not too smoothly mind you.

I am looking forward to decidous trees and fallen leaves and long abandoned railroad tracks in the November chill.

SCARY F!@#ING SHIT!

Yesterday was my first attempt at going out to the second bouy by myself. As usual, the other swimmers were all headed back in by the time I got there. It was still light this time, which I thought was a good thing, but it turns out that when it's light, you can see what's going on down there underneath you.

For some reason, the area between the first and second bouy is just chock full of some pretty creepy stuff. At first I told myself that the dark spoltches below me were just rocks or patches of kelp... until one unfolded it's wings and flapped towards me. I think it was one of these. They're harmless, and they leave you alone, but damn they're big. Kind of makes you wonder what else is going on down there.

Apart from that, and almost planting my face into this, which, I am now reading, apparently has very "potent stingers", the swim was pretty uneventful.

Man the ocean freaks me out.

Ancient Sumerians and Such

I'm on Nick and Chara's couch about to go to sleep. When I called and asked if I could stay the night, they said yes, without hesitation. They waited to watch their movie until I was here, and made sure I was fed, as well as offering me the run of their (extensive) liquor cabinet. They sat with me, and laughed with me, and made me a midnight snack, and then said goodnight, Chara kissing me on the forehead before they went off to their bedroom.

This is being loved, unequivocally, completely, and without agenda.

This is what makes the world good.

Oops, I did it again...

The cove at night again.

This time no red tide, no errie glow, just me and darkness and whatever was in the water beneath me. I felt very calm. I just went out and did it and that was that.

Stumbling Through The Dark

I had meant to come home and go right to bed, but then there were phone calls, and then there was dinner, and laundry and working out, and by then I needed to settle down a bit, so I put in a movie. While THE MACHINIST is slightly less horrifying than REQUIEM FOR A DREAM, which I had the misfortune of watching earlier in the week (and later nightmared about losing an arm), it's still pretty tense. Right around the part where the insane, insomniac main character is about to destroy the only good thing in his life, I turned it off and headed to brush my teeth and go to bed.

Lesson: If it's upsetting you, there's no need to keep watching.

So Tired

I slept until 9:06 this morning, despite the fact that I only did 2/3 of my normal bike ride (I say normal as though I've actually been riding with any consistency, which I haven't). Last night I fell asleep without bothering to get up and brush my teeth.

My house is a mess. I haven't gotten anything done in my personal life in two weeks.

Someone's been going out too much. I think I need to stay in this weekend.

I am sleeping

A. On top of my covers

B. Upside down

C. Wrapped up like a taco

D. All of the above

Red Tide at Night

I'm not a particularly strong swimmer, as I think I've said, nor am I a particularly brave individual. The term "fraidy-cat may apply, though I'd like to think that I still manage to do the things I want (and I'd like to think a lot of things).

Last night, I wanted to get my swim in at the cove. It was overcast, and the sun had already set, though there was still light when I entered the water. Two snorklers were paddling about lazily about 5 yards from shore, but there were no other swimmers. The tide was out enough that there was plenty of beach exposed, even in the tiny inlet of the cove. I waded in, took a moment to put my goggles on and adjust to the chill, then plunged in, smelling the slightly sulfur stink of red tide algae and feeling the water close over me, silent and uncaring.

The first minute is usually fairly calm for me, but the black water under darkening skies already had me spooked. By the time I'd gone 20 yards, I'd drifted towards the cliff and into a tangle of kelp. I couldn't see anything until it was right in front of me... just my hands plunging into the green surface and pulling back. A strange affect of the water at night: when I pulled my hands down and back, the currents of water around them bacame darker, black masses pooling beneath me that would startle me every so often until I realized what they were.

In truth, I'd been trying to talk myself out of the swim all evening. Once you get wet though, it's hard to turn back without feeling like a wimp. Still, it's easy to forget yourself, floating in water with no visability; ALL that space underneath you, and not knowing what's down there... it's creepy. Like I said, I'm not particulary brave, so at this point, I had to tread water for a few second and calm myself: The ocean is vast. You are powerless in it. Panic will do nothing. You can swim on, or not. The ocean does not care. Alertness to danger will do nothing to stave it off. Surrender to it and you will be free to do what you want. You have no control here. And with that, I searched ahead for the buoy, my goggles fogged, hair dripping in my face, the light fading, and headed towards its blurry image.

Calm until my hand hits seaweed. PANIC. Settle down. Calm until I am face to face with a jellyfish. Panic. Each mass of kelp I pass, reaching up out of the darkness below, each unfamiliar sound, or play of light on my goggles has me practically out of my mind. By the time I reach the buoy (and am startled by it appearing on the wrong side of me, disoriented as I've become), I'm whipped up into a real frenzy. Wanting to stay with my head above water, but not wanting to be out there when the light leaves entirely, I turn and put my head under to go back. My hands break the surface and are now covered in a soft blue green glow. PANIC AGAIN! Wait, red tide, remember. This is normal. With each stroke the microscopic dynaflagellites emit their strange light. The bubbles around me pulse with bioluminecence. I am a swift arrow of glowing lightning. I am not to be trifled with. I am wondering if the glow attracts preditors, and there we are again, thinging about all the creepy crawlies of the sea.

The swim back is always scarier, tired as I am by then. I remember my friends telling me about how the fish leave glowing trails in the water. I start thinking about what I'll do if I see a huge glowing streak headed my way. Wait, I know exactly what I'll do. I'll be eaten. Better yet, I'll get my legs bitten off and I'll sink helplessly to the bottom where I'll drown, slowly and painfully, praying for whatever to come back and finish me off.

Guess who is panicky again. It occurs to me, as I pick up the pace, that the only real danger out here is hyperventalating. Wouldn't it be stupid if I drowned because I was afraid of drowning? Like all the other times-- though those were in daylight and this time, save for the moon and my now brightly glowing hands, the darkness is complete-- I remain calm enough, and finish the swim.

I feel better, not proud, because it's not that big an accomplishment, but better. I'm dizzy. I'm wet. I grab my stuff and trudge back to the shower shaking off . I'm still creeped out. Not at night again. Not alone anyway.