Intro

Welcome to a story, or stories I should say. A compilation of adventure tales. An ongoing itch to see, smell, and touch the world, or at least the deserted roads and rarely trampled mountains of America. Characters within the descriptive paragraphs of these stories carve out the coming and going companions in life; vital life people and pieces that parallel a universe for moments, days, years. And then spear off, leaving granules of magnificent memories of magical places. They leave a lasting trace, a gained sense of courage to stand tall on oxygen deprived mountains and shout absurdities like: I love you Ralph! Ralph is a teenage reindeer stuffed of the finest synthetic polyester fiber poof; he says made in Indonesia but really tells me he is from the North Pole. Delivered through a chimney one December night 20 years ago, we instantly became cuddle buddies upon that morning's sunrise. He is the instigator. The inspiration. And the imagination. He breathes creativity. Laughter. His is a dear companion. And yes, at 4lbs he tags along atop a pack or strapped to a rack. In delirium of 107 degree heat, the small possession of material belongings gain a persona. Innate objects become friends of the road and trails. And as for the humans who accompany, their presence reads priceless. Without O'Reilly, a 29 year old New Hampshirian with superior taste buds, the mathematical six foot four inch tall German, or handful of organic peanut butter and 99 cent jam eating munchkins, there would be a lot less excitement. The encounters we make with our specie, encapsulating the world with their awkward ways and over consumerist love, somehow we have managed to become overly adored creatures. Their generous hearts restore a faith that goodness prevails in the upheaval of a sometimes lost humanity. As for myself, I'm just the navigator, paddling up the stream of life munching on Clif Bars, with an iPhone documenting the frailties and goodies underneath all the simplified complexities in the world we reside. So again, I welcome you to get lost and dream a little through this typed text and your imagination. My name is Kristen Gentilucci. I live in Berkeley California and I love dogs.


Friday, August 22, 2014

Day 40. Home.

Miles: 63
Elevation gain: who cares
Temperature: check the weather channel. Nothing surprising. 

And there we woke, to our last day. Pure Exhaustion would have to wait before it could take over like ice cream melting down a cone on a 100 degree day. The side effect of exhaustion had already done some damage. There is this natural instinct when reaching the tree laidened home for the night, to sit. Sit and completely relax. Muscles grasp quietness and embrace stillness as if a warm blanket was thrust over us in the night. Regaining a sugar conscious state, exhaustion has caused our collapse into a bed of dying poison oak. And it it he'd worse than any sore tired bone. 

Wild raccoons eyed our tent like bandants in the night. They were fearless of our vicious yells and Buck knife. Their eyes pieced like reflectors and they patiently waited for tired eyes to fall asleep, returning to the hunt for clif    bars and hummus. 

We were suprised Ralph didn't get into O'Reilly's breakfast. Carrot Walnut muffins, it was a first for him. But he patiently waited like an obedient dog, siting upon command 'till more than crumbs were gifted to him. 

You'd think the last full day would be like reeling in an obedient fish, but these legs know this road all too well. They know every roller, pothole, grade, and curve to come. It was as though the word 'home' made bodies shut down. Eyes stared at motionless legs, the brain blamed the legs and the legs blamed the brain for lack of forward motion. It was too late, exhaustion had taken hold. We made it to the base of our mountain that is truly home. It's called Mt. Tamalpais. Whiskey: golden, mapley and smooth was sipped with smiles of celebration. Baffled by the 3,000 miles, we made it. It was bitter sweet. Sadness to end, happiness to rest, tired bodies to mend. It has already been decided that, when we are asked, "pray tell, how was your trip?" we will smile, conjure a deep look of longing and reflection, gracefully sigh and say, "oh my... It was wonderful".

Tent Breakfast with Ralph:

Big Trees:

Mt. Tam:

The Ghosktree: