In a life of repetition, a week can pass by appearing as a mere instance in the memory bank; one hundred and sixty eight hours, and all a brain can do is prove it's existence based on the weather, a current event, or another minimally significant anecdote. For times of adventure, neurons burn experiences and emotions into a more permanent storage unit. If I sat and thought long enough--with a little photographic and cartographic assistance--I could recall 90% of our route and determine where we slept, what we saw, how far we rode, and much more. Unfortunately in most instances, including mine, these memories don't serve as a productive function to the rest of society, and therefore can't generate sustainable income. Over time, even those who seem have evaded the rigors of reality are forced to become functioning members of society; if only temporarily. There will, however, always be the memories, which are worth the weight of decades in repetition.
I'm now working towards a printed account of our experience, if only for the sake of personal enjoyment years from now. I can hope the winter forces me inside to tackle this task, but it won't, so I can only promise to post a note here when finished, in case anyone wants a copy.
For now, I can offer a calendar I created using a few of my favorite photos, seen above. I have a handful of extras and am happy to ship them off to interested parties for $10. Please send an email request to Ross.Kenney at gmail dot com.
Thanks again for reading.