That Time We Didn't Go to Asia

A sliver of the Na Pali Coast

 Sometimes in life shit goes sideways. Sometimes it is entirely your fault and sometimes it is completely out of your control. You might be reading this trying to figure out which you think is worse. Is it better to have the unpredictable ebb and flow of the universe pull your world in a direction you did not navigate yourself; to have the inconsiderate decisions of others tear through your life leaving you frustrated that things happened to you which were totally out of your hands?.. Or is it worse to know that when things went awry it was because of your own failure and misjudgment? Something that you would replay in your head over and over and see all of the obvious signs that you missed the first time, feeling like there was really no good goddamn reason to have missed it in the first place. 
  A month ago Mitch and I were suppose to go to Southeast Asia. A month ago Mitch and I did not go to Southeast Asia. Was it the joke we had made when we booked the flights, not to confuse the time of day of our departure (something we thought would be so silly and impossible to actually do) but then our brains retained the wrong detail (trust me, the irony is not lost on this one)? Was it that very late night after a very long work day a month before the trip when after staring at a travel guide into the wee hours of the evening, I realized that the following day I would have to submit my work hours I would need covered for the trip? So, with tired eyes squinting at my calendar, I jotted down dates, missing one…very crucial day?... Was it at the very end when expected garage moving and van receiving dates were pushed back to days before our trip, leaving us in a scramble whilst already up to our ears in things needing to be done, that our distracted and tired minds missed the opportunity where we could have prevented our mix-up? In the end it was all of those things and also none of those things that would cause us to confuse our departure time and miss our flight. Really it was just human error, one that I would beat myself up for but one that I would have to accept because I AM only human and even paranoid perfectionists slip up. It wouldn’t be the end of the world but you know, for a moment, it really felt like it was going to be. It’s ok… You can laugh. I can laugh at this all now too. Ha ha… See!
  After discovering the very relieving fact that we would get a refund on our flights (take note that Expedia gives refunds to idiots who miss their flight if flight insurance is purchased. Something I had never done before this time. Coincidence?) we knew that we had to go somewhere- ANYWHERE there would be sunshine and motorcycles and happiness, far, far away from this terrible devastation. The following morning we settled on Hawaii and immediately got to work on our redemption. As if it were meant to be, everything fell into place in a matter of moments. Fate would be delivering us to Kauai the very next day. We scored what was probably the last affordable yet least dingy Airbnb available because even though the posting sounded ideal, there were zero reviews and the photos gave us a very vague depiction of quality. It ended up being, surprisingly, the best Airbnb rental we have stayed at thus far. The rental operator called us to help us sort out last minute details: a pick-up from the airport and even a private car rental for the week, so affordable it allowed us to treat ourselves to a few motorcycle as well. We sealed our new found luck with a high-five.

  It wasn’t until the moment I walked out of the Lihue Airport and felt the warm tropical air on my skin that I felt ease for the first time in 48 hours. The second day we picked up a couple of brap-mobiles from Kauai Motorcycle Rentals and headed for the hills. I was fitted with a fun little Suzuki DR200 and Mitch, a DR650. Kauai is the oldest Hawaiian island, nick-named the “Garden Isle” because of its lush, emerald rainforests covering most of its mountainous range. We ripped up windy passages to the breath-taking view points of Waimea Canyon, eyes feasting on the red, green and coral drapery of one of mother nature’s sculptural masterpieces. We rode trails the colour of rust through rolling red dreamscapes and sat at cliff’s edge, victory beers in hand, with an 800 foot cascading waterfall as our view. The next day the jungle was our playground. We explored beneath the dense vine draped canopy, rolling over rocks and rivers, a few times I thought for sure I was going to eat shit but some how managed to stay over not under. It was my first time trail riding and I got to experience it in paradise.

  We picked up a couple of Harley Sportsters for the last four days of our trip. I was pleased to see a matte-black 883 waiting for me in the parking lot and Mitch got his choice: a black 48 which with a bigger and faster motor was unexpectedly smaller in over-all size than my bike. I sat on the 48 for a moment to see if it would be a better fit but decided that the forward foot controls were not for me being that I’m barely 5’4 and looked ridiculous on it with arms and legs stuck straight out in front of me in order to reach and ride. It was on that Harley in Kauai that my perspective on the whole scenario leading up to Hawaii shifted. With every rotation of the wheels, the little, hidden messages became clear to me- like, the feeling of foreboding that both Mitch and I felt right before our intended Asia trip, quietly clouding moments of excitement: We had originally planned to go to Asia for a month but had shortened it to three weeks so that we could attend another event this summer that would eventually fall through for us meaning that we had shortened our trip for no reason. It would have been a whirl wind three weeks with absolutely no mercy if something were to be delayed or not go as planned along the way. As I carved around the verdant edges of coastal mountains I thought about my Triumph sitting at home waiting for me and how when I got it, brand new off the lot last October, it was with the excitement of finally having a bike that could go far and fast with little worry of having it break down. I had gotten this bike and then had suddenly made huge travel plans that didn’t include it at all which was the sole purpose of me buying it so quickly after the break-down of the Enfield. Now having only gone to Hawaii for a week I have the opportunity to potentially dream up a Bonneville bike trip for this year. It was at the healing end of the vacation that I became able to fully let go of the weight of my mistake and be open to what the universe may be trying to tell me along the two-tired road trip of life. Some things just aren’t meant to be and Southeast Asia will be there next year with more time for us to relax and enjoy it when we do finally get there. And anyway, there is honestly nothing like listening to Temples while cruising on a Harley in the sun beside a long, glistening stretch of beach and not-giving-a-fuck.

Soak me in salt water, perfume me in gasoline,
Always never not searching.
The American dream to hide the inside scream.
Ocean waves, warm weather decay,
Left my heart to ripen and rot in the tropics.