super-coleider

[super-coleider]

What a surreal place. I'm missing trees in an essential way. Anyone up north want a house guest?  #explorecalifornia #deathvalley #sheexplores #sheadventures #exploretheworld #roamtheplanet #neverstopexploring #nakedplanet #ourplanetdaily #whataview #wanderlust #wanderfolk #getoutside #liveyouradventure #exploremore #lonelyplanet #lifeofadventure #optoutside #awesomeearth #adventureculture #stayandwander #earthfocus #exploreeverywhere #backpacking #camping  (at Death Valley, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/B6eKIWUANf6/?igshid=1dmk1kun6jprw

[super-coleider]

Sunrise at Convict Lake.

[super-coleider]

I bought a bike for $25 this summer. I tricked myself into buying a bike by reassuring my out-of-shape body that with a financial commitment so minor, even I could afford to never ride the bike. The bike was an unwieldy, steel framed, monstrosity of a cruiser. The second time I rode it, I got a flat. The third time I rode it, I got another flat. The frame was bent under the seat, so the seat post could not be lowered. Eventually, I took a hacksaw to the post and cut it down. The whole contraption creaked and complained every time I rode it, more so in the mornings and the cold.

 When people asked me why I didn’t get a new bike, I said my bike and I were similar. Together we loudly and relentlessly objected to continued existence. Yet, we persisted. The truth was that I simply couldn't afford anything else.

 Summer waned in spurts until finally it was gone. Like a child, I lost summer all in one night. When I woke up in the morning, some day in August, it was fall and I was a student again. My bike awaited me in the cold early morning light, equally unprepared for the 5 mile trek to university. I had put off cycling the route until that morning. I preferred dreading the journey in abstract terms.

 That first morning I rode slowly. I missed the bike path on my first pass, and had to loop back. My legs ached before the first mile. Probably before the first quarter mile. I mentally counted the days I'd committed myself to, telling myself how many hundred times I'd pass every tree, every intersection, every fence, and every cozy house that I would never enter. I tried to savor the novelty, knowing that I would see these items hundreds of times. I admonished myself for not getting a parking pass. I mourned the footwear I'd have to abandon for this. Hundreds of days without my wedge sandals; without my black patent leather heels; without the open-toed stilettos I, inexplicably, could dance in. I sweated and panted, hard. My eyes watered in the wind. And then, I was at the university.

 I rode home in the evening, noting miserably that in the winter, I would likely make both journeys in the dark. By the end of the week my thighs ached constantly. I schemed ways to get out of this. I wondered if some fluke of my physiology could serve as a suitable excuse for my abandonment of the whole enterprise. Until, without my notice, my legs stopped hurting, my knees stopped cracking on every down-stroke, and my eyes stopped watering.

 Somewhere in that time, I came to delight in my bike's noisy protestations. I imagined families awaking to its painful creaks every day, at some ungodly hour. Someone spray painted “go fuck yourself” in elegant cursive across the bike path. I imagined it was written for me. My legs changed shape, and I realized they were strong. Really strong. Those legs and my ever-put-upon bike carried me 50 miles a week. I marveled at this fact, and then got bored.

 The mornings grew darker and colder, as I had dreaded. The trees gave up their leaves, littering the path. I discovered the exquisite joy of crunching through piles of freshly fallen debris. Invisible seed pods popped and cracked, while leaves and twigs snapped. The whole mess of sounds joined the squeaks and creaks of my bike. I loved the unified sound. I wanted to keep it with me forever. I wanted to ask it to marry me. Squirrels chattered their objections, before dashing away.

 On the 79th day, the sun never came up in Chico. There was light, yes, but a black haze engulfed the city. I squeaked and crunched my way to university, and my lungs burned. Students stood outside of empty classrooms taking pictures of the sky. Something was burning. Something massive and very very near. No one knew what to do, but someone decided to call it the “Camp Fire,” so we did. In the early hours of that morning it burned the town of Paradise to the ground. All day, it waited on the bank of the river that divides Chico from Paradise, before turning south a day later.

I biked home, through the leaves, and the “go fuck yourself,” even past a curbside mattress some more-or-less fortunate or unfortunate fellow slept on. The glow on the horizon might have been the sun, or it might have been the fire. I suspect no one can say. Ash fell from the sky. I coughed black paste and tied a scarf across my face. My heart, my lungs, my legs, my bike carried me to my car. And then, after 79 days, I drove. I drove, first through, then past, and finally out of a literal hellscape.

 I followed the news from far away, like a stranger, because ultimately, I am. After a fortnight, the Northern California sky opened up and rained. The collective population of the state took a deep breath of fresh wet air, and sighed in relief. The university notified students, staff, and faculty that school would begin again. We all saw an unmarred winter sky, and genuinely felt thankful in a time appropriately related to Thanksgiving. And someone told me my bike was destroyed.

 I looked at photos of my friend's homes, reduced to ash. I said conciliatory and supportive words. I told myself that, really, all I lost was $25. I believed this, because technically it's true. I mourned anyway. I bought a new bike, a perfect bike. It's so sleek it just looks fast; it's the correct size for my body; it weighs just this side of nothing; and it never complains in its perfect silence.

 The rain soaked the fire and the refugees indiscriminately. It puddled in the roads and on the bike path. It rotted the leaves and carried the seed pods to safety in the soil. It washed away the final remnants of my daily reminder to go fuck myself.

 95 days after I first lurched my way along the Chico bike path, I woke up in the dark, layered coats, hats, scarves, gloves, and stealthily biked to the university in the rain, soaking up more silence and loss than rainwater. A wet leaf fell and hit me in the face. I appreciated its moxie. Rain tapped a quiet, erratic rhythm on my raincoat. As I bent to lock my bike to my customary post, I marveled at the new clouds of vapor my labored breath created in the cold air.

[super-coleider]

There are things that people want to know about living in a van. Everyone has questions. Then there are the things that folks couldn’t give a fuck less about. The questions are telling. At first they are wistful, envious even. In short order, they turn to questions of bodily function. The inquisitors feign sincerity, but I find it difficult to believe that they can't figure out how to go pee away from their home toilet.

Really though, the most significant thing about living in a van is the passage of time. It stretches and slips like an LSD trip, punctuated by meals and text messages. Shit gets weird.

It was in a very weird moment that I received a text message containing not one, but seven, eggplant emojis. No one will ever know how long I looked at those seven eggplant emojis, but at some point I decided they contained a fascinating possibility.

The eggplant emoji, ubiquitous representation of penis, had not been squeezed of all it's suggestive possibility. Enraptured by the seven eggplant emojis, I decided that it would be absolutely hilarious to purchase an eggplant and photograph it. Not just any photo, a deeply suggestive photo. A photo that looked filthy in a subtle way that defied definition.

I imagined a whole series of filthy emoji photos. The peach, with it's soft cleft tenderly lit with beautiful window light.  A taco, with sour cream spilling into a voluptuous mess. And of course, the eggplant, its obscene and bulbous head exaggerated with a wide angle lens.

Delighted, I made haste to a grocery store. After great deliberation over which eggplant was most vulgar, I settled on a slim-but-unblemished, deep purple, monstrosity. It wasn’t until I returned to my van that I encountered yet another constant in vanlife: storage, or the lack thereof. I certainly couldn’t photograph the eggplant right there, in a Safeway parking lot. Conversely, I shivered in horror at the prospect of it being cosmetically marred in a drawer. So I did what any sane person would do. I delicately placed it on my bed, braced with my pillow. Secure in the knowledge that my eggplant would survive to be photographed in morning light, I busied myself with other activities.

At some point, I forgot the eggplant entirely.

The day passed without note and in the evening I met up with a guy. A cute guy. A clever, funny, observant guy. A very very observant guy. And maybe the eggplant would have escaped his notice, had I not insisted on grabbing a jacket from the back of the van. But I did. It is entirely possible that even then, he might not have noticed, had I not switched on a light. But I did.

Our gaze settled on the eggplant in the exact same instant. At a complete loss, I did the worst possible thing. I attempted to cover the eggplant up with the pillow. I felt the wrongness of this choice, even as I hastily looked back at him. Our eyes met. He had seen everything. My mind registered the situation as he would see it. The long days, alone, in the van. The loneliness. The total seclusion. Of course, the eggplant, there, in the bed. And my shameful attempt at concealment.  

I started to babble an explanation, but it was too late. Words about epic hilarious photos, and “of course it looks wrong, that's the whole point,” spilled out of my mouth. His smirk told me the futility of my situation, but I had to try.

I finally said, “Look, I know it looks like I was fucking that eggplant.” I let it hang there, in the air for a moment. Owning it. Planning my next words carefully, “I was going to photograph it and I didn’t have anywhere else to store it.” He raised and eyebrow. I went on, “It even still has the sticker on it! Obviously I wasn’t fucking it!” The smirk returned.

He let me go on like that for some time, hearing my confused and embarrassed explanation. Finally, in an incredulous tone he said, “I guess you really have to photograph it now.”

I knew he was right.  

[super-coleider]

Sunrises are sometimes better than sunsets. :)

[super-coleider]

These llamas spat and farted at me. I realize they look adorable, but they are terrifying. #llama #lifeofadventure #vanlife #vanlifrdiaries #vanlifejournal #exploretheplanet #exploreeverywhere #exploreeverything #roamtheplanet #roamtheearth #roamtheworld #neverstopexploring #neverstopadventuring #nomad #wanderfolk #wanderlust #getoutsidestayoutside #getoutside

[super-coleider]

Goodnight NYC! You were excellent to me! #vanlife #vanlifediaries #vanlifejournal #lifeofadventure #exploreeverywhere #exploreeverything #ig_color #earthfocus #neverstopexploring #neverstopadventuring #nyc #brooklynbridge #cityscape #skyline (at Brooklyn Bridge Park)

[super-coleider]

Being a mature adult, I've decided to share this sunrise photo I took in Loreto, Mexico, with you all. Better late than never. #travel #loretomexico #sunrise #vanlifejournal #vanlifediaries #cactus

[super-coleider]

If I combine the classiness of The MET, with the trashiness of mirror selfies, does it equalize out? #solotravel is tough for photos. #vanlifediaries #vanlifejournal #solotraveler #exploreeverywhere #exploreeverything #lifeofadventure #neverstopexploring #neverstopadventuring #wanderlust #wanderfolk #nyc #themet #themetropolitanmuseumofart (at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York)

[super-coleider]

If we have an apocalypse, and I survive, I am hereby calling dibs on living in the ruins of The MET. #exploreeverywhere #exploreeverything #travelphotography #lifeofadventure #neverstopexploring #neverstopadventuring #vanlifrdiaries #vanlifejournal #vanlife #nomad #wanderfolk #wanderlust #cityphotography #themet #themetropolitanmuseumofart #apocapypseplease (at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York)

[super-coleider]

Walking here I felt like I was entering a Tolkien story. The light was misty, and the icicles dripped in the sun then refroze below. #lifeofadventure #icicles #naturephotography #watkinsglen #landscapes #ig_color #earthfocus #wanderfolk #wanderlust #vanlife #vanlifediaries #vanlifejournal #exploreeverywhere #exploretheworld #exploretheplanet #neverstopexploring #neverstopadventuring #adventure #roamtheworld #roamtheplanet #neverstopexploring #neverstopadventuring #getoutsidestayoutside #getoutside #travelphotography (at Watkins Glen, New York)

[super-coleider]

So bright in a snowstorm it might as well have been a beacon. #lifeofadventure #landscapephotography #landscapes #ig_color #earthfocus #wanderfolk #wanderlust #vanlife #vanlifediaries #vanlifejournal #exploreeverywhere #exploretheworld #exploretheplanet # #neverstopexploring #neverstopadventuring #adventure #roamtheworld #roamtheplanet #neverstopexploring #neverstopadventuring #getoutsidestayoutside #getoutside #travelphotography #roadtrip (at Port Austin, Michigan)

[super-coleider]

Lake Huron, MI. The waves melt the ice into tiny ice islands. I love these frozen worlds, but I am very much ready to hit some hot springs on my way back west. #lifeofadventure #landscapephotography #landscapes #ig_color #earthfocus #wanderfolk #wanderlust #vanlife #vanlifediaries #vanlifejournal #exploreeverywhere #exploretheworld #exploretheplanet #neverstopexploring #neverstopadventuring #adventure #roamtheworld #roamtheplanet #neverstopexploring #neverstopadventuring #getoutsidestayoutside #getoutside #travelphotography (at Port Austin, Michigan)

[super-coleider]

Not even vaguely in formation. These geese give zero fucks. #lifeofadventure #landscapephotography #landscapes #ig_color #earthfocus #wanderfolk #wanderlust #vanlife #vanlifediaries #vanlifejournal #exploreeverywhere #exploretheworld #exploretheplanet # #neverstopexploring #neverstopadventuring #adventure #roamtheworld #roamtheplanet #neverstopexploring #neverstopadventuring #getoutsidestayoutside #getoutside #travelphotography (at Port Austin, Michigan)

[super-coleider]

Blizzard sunrise over Lake Huron. The waves have eroded the base of this geological formation, creating it's singular shape. #lifeofadventure #landscapephotography #landscapes #ig_color #earthfocus #wanderfolk #wanderlust #vanlife #vanlifediaries #vanlifejournal #exploreeverywhere #exploretheworld #exploretheplanet # #neverstopexploring #neverstopadventuring #adventure #roamtheworld #roamtheplanet #neverstopexploring #neverstopadventuring #getoutsidestayoutside #getoutside #travelphotography (at Lake Huron)

[super-coleider]

The #littlestcampervan is my favorite thing to photograph. I imagine it's a bit like family vacation photos. Even when she's dirty, it's just endearing and cute to me. #vanlife #vanlifediaries #vanlifejournal #lifeofadventure #wanderfolk #wanderlust #neverstopexploring #neverstopadventuring #roamtheplanet #roamtheworld #campervanlife #conversionvan #exploreeverywhere #exploreeverything #getoutside #getoutsidestayoutside

[super-coleider]

After two frozen lakes, I'm ready for spring. Can it be spring now? #devilslake #lifeofadventure #roamtheplanet #roamtheworld #exploreeverywhere #exploreeverything #neverstopexploring #neverstopadventuring #earthfocus #exploretheworld #wanderfolk #wanderlust #vanlife #vanlifejournal #vanlifediaries (at Devil's Lake)