Southwest Whirlwind Roundup

Two days back, and I already miss the road. I mapped out our route today in Mapquest and was shocked to see 2311 miles drove in four-and-half days. I guess we slept little, drove lots, fished some, and saw miles of river and road crossing three states and finally five different watersheds.

Sitting in my office today, I ponder my dual-lifestyle. It's almost like I step in and out of two completely different worlds on a weekly basis. One with consequences and another with accomplishments.
I know inside corporate, I'm another person, all together professional and refined. On the water, or traveling to it, layers seem to fall away; leaving just me.

I walk by rows of cubicles, wondering is there anyone else in this farm like me? As far as the eye can see gray walls lit by monitors, hazed by noise retardant devices planted in the ceilings above in order to create a more productive, worker-bee, like environment.

Running water is my theme song, following me all day in my head. Splashing over stones and getting choked in stair-stepped waterfalls of my mind.
My friend Brad, says he spends a lot of time, "In his head." In this world, I don't think I have a choice. It's hard for me to explain the suffocation I feel between trips. Like I'm holding my breath until I'm yet, ankle deep in a riffle.

Right now I sit on a seemingly endless conference call and chew at my crusted lips, burnt for my last chapter. People just don't get me, is all I can think. The very next thought dawns on me, maybe folks weren't meant to "get-me" at all.

Logic weighs in, the pendulum swinging back in my head, it doesn't matter. Just go on with your duel-lifestyle. Work & Fish. The thought of those two things rising to the top, Work and fishing, makes me feel guilty and my internal focus turns towards my family, away from the voices in my ear all together. My wife married me, knowing this is who I am. My son, didn't have a choice, now nor does my daughter. Hopefully, because of the amount of time I spend with them, they will get me.

Either way, averaging over a hundred days on the water per year, takes a toll eventually on everyone and everything. So far I've managed, the burden has been on me for the most part, or at least I hope.

Last year there were two ulcers, high blood pressure, a stint in the hospital for coughing up blood, and then the death threats. Not sure which was the chicken or the egg there, but the nasty-grams were no help.

Roping this random rodeo back to the ranch, I finally settle on the thought, I should be thankful for the time I've had on the water thus far. Also, I should be thankful for the wonderful family I have. My wife, who puts up with my addiction, my kids who love me every time I walk through the door. My friends, who put up with my last two years of trying to figure out how to find my voice. I'm a lucky guy, I think. Then, almost immediately, my mind drifts off, Pyramid..two weeks from now... Yeah...I better get tying.

Funny how that works...huh