Last Day || Richland, WA to Seattle, WA

Somewhere near Richland.

As I walked to Wal-Mart this morning I thought, Why should I rush to get home? Why should I rush to get this Wal-Mart experience over with? Why should I rush to have my matcha tea, why should I rush to get back to the hotel, why should I rush to see what breakfast they have, why should I rush up to my room, to get packed and changed and ready to go, to write this post.

Why should I rush to do anything at all?

We spend our lives rushing about, only to realize it did nothing to hasten or delay the arrival of death. When you die will it matter all the stuff you did? Will it matter, all the things you crammed into every day? The things you stressed about?

It’s snowing outside the Home 2 Suites by Hilton in Richland, WA, and my tea has just finished brewing. I’m sitting on the couch in my immaculate room, this, finally, the NICEST room I’ve stayed in this entire trip. It took till the last night to find the perfect hotel. That’s what this trip was about, staying in hotels. Finding myself in hotels across the US and Mexico, watching YouTube videos. Watching chess videos. Watching bouldering videos. Drinking tea.

Today I’ll pack up my stuff, leave my hotel room, start my car, amble onto the freeway, and drive home to Seattle. I have mixed feelings about this. Sure, I’m excited as fuck. That goes without saying. But at the same time if there’s ANYTHING this trip has taught me is that arriving at your destination doesn’t matter. Things aren’t going to be great “once you get there.” Things aren’t going to be great “once you get to Guam,” or “once you get to Mexico,” or “once you go on vacation,” or “once your kids are back in school,” or “once you get that job promotion,” or “once you start making more money,” or “once you start eating better.”

OK, the eating better thing is actually kind of a big one.

But seriously, we spend our entire leaves thinking we’ll be happy ONCE SOMETHING HAPPENS. Our ability to be happy is so conditional. Watch, sometime, yourself having these thoughts, and then watch what happens when you get the thing that you thought would be it, or the place you thought that once you got there everything would be fine, and watch how as soon as these things are attained your little rat brain goes searching for some other requirement to make it happy. Oh, we’ll be happy once we get to our hotel and we can relax and unpack our stuff and go swimming in the pool. But then you get to your hotel, and other little things come up. Where are we going to dinner? We’ll be happy once we just get some dinner. We’ll be happy once we just get a good night’s rest. And on and on and on and on until it becomes, oh, we’ll be happy once this vacation is just over and we’re home.

(hold on a sec while I get my tea).

Or maybe you guys don’t have this problem. Maybe I’m the only one sitting in the Hilton in Richland eating sardines with jalapenos for breakfast because he thinks a low-carb diet will solve his knee troubles.

Anyway.

Now I’m worried that this entire room smells like sardines. K, I really need to drink my tea.

All I know is this: this is literally the only thing I know: that my body feels better when I eat a diet lower in carbs, lower in grains. I feel like I have less inflammation. Like if I eat a big thing of rice? My fingers and joints instantly start cracking. I feel like my body’s on fire. But when I eat a low carb diet? My body feels lubed up. I feel light. I feel like a kid again, albeit a kid with a partially torn LCL.

Except maybe it’s not torn anymore. Maybe it’s kind of healed and it just needs to continue in the remodeling phase and I need to load and……all that other stuff.

And so, I’m going to savor the drive today. Fuck that, I’m going to savor everything about today. I’m going to savor the wonderful sound my car makes when starting up, the familiar purr despite always fearing a bit it won’t start up. I’m going to savor the crunch of the tires on the snow as I slowly drive out of the hotel parking lot and towards the arterials. I’m going to savor the whine of the engine as I pull onto an onramp and get it up to speed on the interstate. I’m going to savor driving by Yakima. I’m going to savor driving by Ellensburg (that one’ll be tough for some reason). I’m going to savor the snow that will inevitably be falling. I’m going to savor the first glimpse I get of Seattle as the skyscrapers peak over Beacon Hill when I come out of the tunnel after Mercer Island.

And if all this goes to shit, if my car doesn’t start, if there’s tons of traffic going over the pass, then, well, I’m going to savor that too. No expectations. Savoring everything that comes my way, including this shitty cup of earl grey. Savoring the lingering taste of sardines in my mouth.

No, but seriously.

 

Welcome to Iconik Coffee Roasters || Santa Fe, NM


Hiiiiiiii, welcome to Iconik Coffee Roasters in Santa Fe. My name is Katie, am I going to be administering your colonic today?

I’m sorry, colonic? I just wanted to get some tea. 

Yesssssss, well it’s not actually a colonic, but that’s the way some of our customers feel after seeing our prices. See, what I’m going to do right now is take a few tea leaves, put them in one of those fancy bags that hangs off the side, fill it with water, and then charge you $4.50. So that’s why I call it a colonic, because it makes many of our customers feel that it’s taking something from the very depths of their souls. 

Wait, a tea costs $4.50? 

Yep, let me just go ahead and ring you up. Will you be paying with credit card? Bit Coin? Ethereum? Other alt coin? Perhaps you’d like to do a wire transfer? Also, just so you know, after I run your card I’m going to do that thing where I swivel the screen over to you and it’s going to ask you what kind of exorbitant tip you’d like to leave me. Because you see not only am I charging you an arm and a pancreas for your tea, I think you should tip on top of it, too, cuz like, living wage, right?

Right….

Ok, I’ll just go ahead and get that yerba mate started for you.

Great.

(comes back)

Ok, here you go. I noticed you only left an 18% tip on your tea. Now, that’s “Good,” but you might’ve noticed that 20% was “Great” and anything above that was “Excellent.” Do you want to talk about why you left such a miserable tip? Are you having money problems? Did you recently get laid off. It’s ok, we can talk about it for a second. Just keep your mask on and don’t look me in the eye. 

I think I’m just gonna go.

Have a wonderful day. Come back again soon. 

Thus went my yerba mate-getting experience in Iconik Coffee Roasters here in Santa Fe just a moment ago. Now, I talked about this place yesterday. I went there for a matcha latte. It was delicious. It was one of the finest-crafted matcha lattes I’ve ever had. The almond milk actually tasted like almonds. It was creamy. They did latte art.

But $7 for a matcha latte?

Get the hell out of town.

Today I went back there for a yerba mate cuz I noticed yesterday they had it and I wanted a pick-me-up before hitting the road again today and driving to Moab. And the yerba mate cost $4.50. $4.50 for loose leaf tea. And then they have the gall to swing the the screen over to you making you feel like you need to tip. Please don’t swivel your screen over to me. I don’t want to touch your screen. I don’t want to touch any screen. And please don’t ask for a tip when I’m already paying you a week’s salary (from when I worked, of course) for your damn tea. Swivel the screen back to yourself. Now swivel your little hips around and make the tea. So I can get out of here and drive to Moab.

Anyway. This place really does have good product. But my god the whole vibe is pretentious.  It’s one of those places that has shitty art on the walls and they think that just because they’re asking $800 for a painting it somehow makes the painting good. I’m afraid that’s not how it works. Your painting looks like a troupe of ducks took a crap on a canvas. That actually might be more interesting. I would actually probably pay more for that than that painting. In fact, when I get home to my boat I might actually leave a canvas on the end of the dock for a month and see what happens to it. I’ll call it, “Le Canard.”

God, why do I sound bitter this morning.

I’m not bitter. I’m stoked as fuck. I had a great time in Santa Fe, it’s now one of my favorite cities in the US and I can’t wait to come back to New Mexico, to come here again and also go bouldering in Roy, the weather’s great, the Subi has new tires (well, patched), and we’re ready to hit the road. And I have a yerba mate in my hand right now. And I just took a picture of the chiles hanging outside my window. And I slept well last night. And I got kombucha and mate this morning. And I’m contemplating whether to go to Whole Foods to get cash back so I can leave a tip for the housekeepers in USD or if I should just leave the pesos I have in my wallet.

Plus I sort of did yoga this morning.

Oh! And the best part about this morning? Yesterday I wrote down a list of life changes I want to implement in the upcoming weeks. One is to wake up at the same time everyday. That time, for whatever reason when I’ve done this in the past, has always been 7:30am. Not too early. Not too late. And this morning when I woke up, stretched, fluttered my bleary eyes, and then finally reached over and grabbed my phone and turned it on and looked at the clock guess what time it was?

7:30am.

Mountain time.

And now it’s time to hit the mountains, Iconik mate in hand.

 

 

Time for Bed | Pecos, TX

I had a revelation today: I’m gonna be able to sport climb before I can boulder again. Why will I be able to sport climb? Because it’s lower impact. You don’t have to worry about falling. When you feel yourself start to go you can just tell your belayer to take and then just chill. Whereas with bouldering you have to worry about getting to the lip, not having any strength, and having to bail all the way to your pad. Or missing your pad altogether. I can’t imagine doing any kind of intense bouldering right now. I can’t imagine doing any kind of bouldering at all.

I’m in Pecos, Texas. And my neighbors are loud.

Crossing the border from Mexico into the US today was easy. Almost too easy. There was only one car in front of me. I guess this is something good that comes out of the pandemic, the fact that the border is basically closed and only US citizens can get in. I spent all of yesterday stressing about crossing the border and it turned out to be ridiculously easy. Go to the drive through to cancel your Temporary Import Permit. Get in line for the border. Pay the toll leaving Mexico. Ignore the guy yelling at you to stop who’s actually trying to sell you something. Show your passport to the first set of US customs and border patrol people. Choose a line (the most stressful part). Inevitably choose the wrong line. Get behind someone who’s getting full cavity searched. Finally get to the front. Answer the questions. Drive into Texas.

And then, of course, you’re in Texas, which is a mixed bag. It’s a huge state. I spent all day driving and didn’t even get out of it. I’m closed to the New Mexico border, and thank god. I think I’m gonna wake up tomorrow and go get some matcha in Carlsbad. Then drive through Roswell, and stay tomorrow night in Albuquerque or Santa Fe or a small town outside one of those. And then, what, onto Utah? Onto Arches National Park? Maybe?

This hotel is so nice. They have a gym, which I worked out in (bench and pull-ups), they give you cookies when you check in, and there’s a barbecue place just down the street. I had to get barbecue while in Texas. I got pulled pork with a side of coleslaw and a side of baked beans. And then I walked back to my hotel and watched episodes of Seinfeld. And then I figured out where I might drive tomorrow, where I might stay, etc etc etc etc

Etc.

And now it’s time for bed.

Matcha Lattes in Monterrey

Monterrey??????? Maybe.

Nothing like lying with your shirt off on the bed a the Hotel Krystal in Monterrey, Mexico, leg elevated, not watching the Super Bowl. I just had one of the best matcha lattes I’ve ever had. Well, two atually. I went to a place called Tierra Libre that I found by googling “matcha” using the map of Monterrey and it came up. I got a hot one with in-house made almond milk, and a cold one with peanut milk. I never thought a latte could be made using peanut milk. This might’ve just changed everything. I’ve been looking for coffee replacements over the years, and so far the two front-runners are: Matcha lattes, yerba mate, and black tea. OK, that was three. But right now matcha is winning the charge. Yerba mate is amazing but it has too much caffeine. Sure, if you’re in Buenos Aires, hanging out on an esplanade with a group of your friends, passing the gourd around, passing the thermos around, passing some empanadas around, maybe kissing some guys on the cheek, then you’d be a fool not to have mate. But if you’re at home by yourself on a boat in Seattle, then, yeah, it’s a bit too much.

I remember the first time an Argentinian guy went in for the kiss. Now I’m almost offended when they don’t.

The question is this: Should I wait for Tierra Libre to open tomorrow at 1pm before hitting the road, throwing off the entire timing of my day, but allowing me to sample yet another one of these matcha dream theaters?

No.

Obviously not.

Tierra Libre?????? Definitely.

Tomorrow I need to get a decent start. I’m not really looking forward to tomorrow, I will not fib. I have to drive a couple hours to the border, dodging what will surely be a gauntlet of bogus speed checks manned by “cops” looking to help me out by not sending me all the way to the station to pay my “ticket.” Then I have to figure out how to get my Temporary Import Permit cancelled. Then I have to figure out how to get in line for the border. Then I have to actually cross the border, and then I have to possibly drive the seven or so hours to Pecos, Texas. I mean, that’s sort of the loose plan. I could always stay another day in Monterrey. I’m absolutely not going to do that, but I could.

For dinner I got a portobello burger with salad and a chai latte with peanut milk, also from Tierra Libre. Before tip it cost $7.16.

High times at the Hotel Krystal. I just asked the room service people to bring up a big bag of ice so I could ice my knee. I read today that loading a healing ligament (not to the point of re-rupturing it, of course), is the best thing you can do for it, so I walked up the ten flights of stairs to my room, which normally wouldn’t be much exertion but pushed my knee a bit. Which is great. I want to push my knee. I’m back to watching tons of bouldering videos, starting to get stoked again. A couple weeks ago the idea of climbing a V0 or doing the first few moves on a boulder, as long as they were easy and you weren’t too high off the ground, sounded impossible. Now it sounds mostly possible. I mean, it doesn’t sound particularly smart, but it sounds possible.

The thing you need to do when you get injured is inject peptides into yourself. It’s the only way to heal.

I’m running dangerously low on water but what am I gonna do? Am I gonna leave my hotel room at 10:30pm at night to go to a convenience store? Claro que no.

Who wants to drive to Pecos with me tomorrow?

I don’t know when I’ll be back in Seattle but I do know this: I’m gonna make a physical therapy appointment for sometime fairly so so it forces me to get back. And then, what, gym membership semi-soon at SBP????? Are you kidding me????? Crushing slab??????

K I’ve literally been elevating my leg for like the last two hours.

Time to not watch YouTube and go to bed.

Aka time to watch Alex Puccio videos and get stoked.

Stained glass!

– Wetz

Bathing in Vitamin D | Last Day in Zacatecas

Pigeon. Zacatecas, Mexico.

It’s time to seize the absolute living daylights out of this day since it might be my last day in Zacatecas before I start heading north tomorrow. Tomorrow to Saltillo, then Monday to Nuevo Laredo. Go to Banjercito and get the deposit back for my car. About 200 dollars. And then drive to SOMEWHERE in Texas and be back on American soil. Doesn’t sound very sexy, does it? That’s because it’s not. Is there anything sexy about Texas? Why does everyone want to move to Austin. I don’t want to move to Austin. I want to be as far away from Austin as possible. I want to move to Alaska.

Having some black tea at my AirBnb in Zacatecas, which is dangerous on an empty stomach. Those tannins. Knee is feeling pretty good considering amount of sugar ingested yesterday. Swelling seems to FINALLY be going down. Which is amazing. I still elevate it. I still don’t feel like I could run. I still try to avoid lateral movement. But I’m a little less worried about it. A little less worried about walking on uneven surfaces.

God I can’t wait till Cafe du Monde opens so I can go get mate.

I just went up to the Subi to see if I could find the oil filter cuz the dudes at Autozone the other day suggested I really need to change the oil filter after so much driving and so much time since an oil change. I never even thought about changing the oil filter. So I did what I do best when it comes to working on cars: I opened the hood and stood there looking at it, concerned. If you ever want to feel like a man, just do this. Open the hood of your car. Stare at the contents looking pensive or concerned. You will feel your testosterone levels rising.

Obviously I couldn’t find the oil filter. But I did get down on my back and look at the undercarriage. I can’t tell if it’s mangled or not. There appears to be a slight oil leak, but it’s so minute it’s not even dripping on the ground. There’s a drip, but it’s hanging there, afraid to jump. There’s a clean area around the drip, which my cousin’s husband told me was a great indicator of a leak. But when I checked the oil this morning it was MORE THAN FULL. I don’t understand this car. What the hell is going on. Sometimes I check it on level ground and it’s bone dry. Other times I check it and it appears oil should be bursting out of the top of it.

When I get back home I’m getting BPC-157 and injecting the fuck out of it into my knee.

My AirBnb in Zacatecas is small but adequate. It has a microwave and a fridge and a coffee maker. It has a smart TV, which I haven’t used yet. It’s about a 5-10 minute walk from the historic center, and a 5-10 minute walk from my favorite cafe, where I will be going ever so shortly, Cafe du Monde. My neighbors were being loud last night but I just put on some white noise and that did the trick. It’s good to write blogs before I get too caffeinated, because when I get too caffeinated I feel like the world is coming to an end. Why drink caffeine at all then??????????????????????????????????????????????????? you might ask. Slash you’re probably asking. Well, because I’m addicted. Is that so hard to understand? I’m addicted to two substances right now. Caffeine. And sugar. I’m probably more addicted to sugar. I recently cut out caffeine for a week, but it would be harder for me to cut out sugar for a week. When you cut out caffeine and sugar you don’t have as much of the highs and lows, but the problem then is you don’t have the damn HIGHS. Sugar makes you high. It’s wonderful. And then it drops you right back down.

Hang in there, Subi. Please God.

My teeth are so damn clean from yesterday. These fucking tannins in my stomach.

OK, time to seize the day. I hope you all are seizing the day too. It is sunny here and I’m gonna bathe in vitamin D.

– MW

Hang in There | Zacatecas Day Three

Museo de Francisco Goitia. Zacatecas, Mexico.

Oooooooh, today is a tough one. I was on top of the fucking world this morning. Got my laundry done. Went to the dentist. Got some mate. Went to a museun. It was sunny out. And I don’t know what’s happened this afternoon. I want to get the hell out of here but I know that won’t help anything. Still, I might do it. I have tonight paid for and tomorrow night paid for, and then I might start heading north again. Through Coahuila and Nuevo Leon. Into Texas. Into New Mexico. Into Colorado and Utah and Idaho and Oregon and all the way back to Washington. Google says it’s 34 hours of driving from Laredo, Texas to Seattle. Aka 40 hours if the Subi and I are behind the wheel. If the Subi makes it. Oooooooh, what do you do when you feel like this. What do you do. What do you do. What do you do. What do you do.

Well, I just made popcorn, that’s one thing.

And I’m watching some episodes of Alone.

And I’m making “Chill” tea, a tea with passion flower and valerian root that’s so far not making me chill. I might need to go get a sandwich.

So let’s talk about the positives. One thing that’s dope is that more people are reading this blog than have read it in many years. I think it’s because I’m posting very regularly, which makes search engines index it better. I have no idea. Another positive thing is that I haven’t smoked any cigarettes! I haven’t smoked a single cigarette since I’ve been in Mexico. Or since I’ve been on this trip, actually. No, that’s not true. I smoked one in Hermosillo. But the point is that my knee is feeling pretty good. I mean it still feels super unstable, but I can tell it’s healing. Healing from a torn ligament is a slow process. I need to figure out how to be happy when I can’t boulder, when I can’t surf, when I can’t play soccer, when I can’t run. But it’s tough.

Another positive is that I just got a fresh gallon of water.

Another positive is that I switched to a fresh mask today.

Another positive is that both my parents have gotten the first round of the vaccine.

Another positive is that I have wonderful family and friends I can go back to in Seattle.

There, I feel better already.

Hmmmmmm, what else could I talk about. Oh, I got back on the collagen train today. And I’ve found some places in Zacatecas I really like. My favorite park, my favorite cafe, a place that has cheap lunches I’ll never go back to because the food tasted a tiny bit like it might’ve been cooked with sewer water. My favorite cafe is called Cafe du Monde and serves yerba mate and has little balconies that overlook one of the main streets. Pretty self-explanatory. My favorite park is La Alameda, right by where I’m staying. Smooth tile ground, skateboarders, foliage, a gazebo. Also pretty self-explanatory.

God, when am I going to be able to boulder again?

I can’t wait to go to SBP Fremont.

Writing this blog has made me feel better. I’m gonna go out and get a little food and come back and watch another episode of Alone. And drink more valerian root tea. And hopefully sleep well tonight.

Besos,

Wetzler

Zacatecas!!!! | Mazatlan to Zacatecas

Que hermosura. Suave, sedoso, y hermoso…

It was a curvy road, this morning. Leaving Mazatlan. A curvy road. So curvy that a couple times I felt like I was getting carsick, and I was driving! I didn’t think it was possible to get carsick when you’re driving, just like when you’re seasick the best thing you can do is start driving the boat.

The Subi ran into a bit of a problem today. We had driven about halfway from Mazatlan to Durango, when there were cars stopped waiting for road workers to let them through. So this meant a little stop and go traffic for awhile, and as soon as we were in this line the Subi’s engine promptly started smoking. And it smelled a bit like burning rubber. Or burning oil. So I started cranking the heat to try to get heat out of the engine compartment, and she didn’t overheat, though I have no idea if my heat cranking actually helped. And then finally the line started moving again, and I just kept going. Maybe it’s low on oil (I check the oil every five minutes)? Maybe it’s just a shitty, old car? Maybe a belt actually did break the other day?

Ahhhhh, the Subi.

So now I’m in Zacatecas, and it’s beautiful. I can officially add this to my “Top 5 Favorite Cities in Mexico” list. Others on it include: Mexico City, Guanajuato and….oh I don’t know, maybe San Jose del Cabo? El Roble? La Union?

I had originally planned to stay a night in Durango, but when I came out of the hills where the engine started smoking and careened on the plains that hold Durango I thought, “Yeah…….no way I’m staying in this city tonight.” Sometimes when I start driving it’s hard for me to stop driving. Like, all I wanna do is drive all day and all night and just get SOMEWHERE, or get AWAY from everything, or something. I think the reason I just wanna keep driving sometimes is because it can be kind of stressful to arrive somewhere when you don’t know the city and you don’t have lodging booked. So if you just keep driving, you delay that stress. Until the stress of driving for 10 straight hours outweighs that stress.

Now I’m in a beautiful guesthouse in Zacatecas, and tomorrow I’m hopefully moving to an AirBnb. And I have a confession to make real quick: I don’t know if I’m going any further south on this trip. Like, I don’t know if I’m going to Mexico City. We’ll see. I’m gonna spend a few days in Zacatecas to walk around and drink coffee and think about things. Also, there are good tamales here.

The knee feels great after the fast, just so you know. It really helped to bring the inflammation down.

I think I’m gonna read Circe and go to bed. Or maybe start on season 4 of Alone. Or maybe watch YouTube videos.

This place is really freaking quiet. I think I’m gonna sleep well tonight.

Buenas noches.

– Wetz

Day Two in Mazatlan | The Long-Ass Road Trip

The view from the Park Inn.

Man, that was a trip. I went all the way to the Zona Dorada to go to Starbucks to get some kind of chai tea or green tea or some other kind of tea you can drink when you’re fasting, and I didn’t make. I mean I kind of made it. I made it to the Zona Dorada. I just went to a completely different cafe, where I got some kind of pear sencha variety that is mildly disgusting. But then again, when all you want is a swordfish fillet, buttered and cooked with garlic, and a whole lobster (possibly even live), along with some sauteed vegetables, no tea is ever going to satisfy you.

And this pear sencha is no different.

I’m coming up on 42 hours of fasting. The longest I’ve ever done is 44, but that was kinda weird cuz I “cheated” by drinking coffee. The thing about drinking coffee is that it can get you out of a fasted state by raising insulin levels, and also it just makes you feel worse after. If you’re in the market for a 24 or 48 or 72 hours fast, I don’t recommend drinking coffee. Drink water. Possibly mineral water. And maybe drink tea. Maybe. Probably not black tea, though, cuz the tannins will wreck your stomach. Maybe green tea. Definitely herbal tea.

Why didn’t I sleep more last night.

I’m going to watch like 12 episodes of Alone today.

Slash jump in pool.

I’ve pretty much subsisted off Topo chico con limon for the past 42 hours.

That’s the plan, if I make it: fast till tomorrow evening and break the fast with the previously mentioned meal. If I DON’T make it till tomorrow, still break the fast with the aforementioned meal. And then the next day probably have no carbohydrates. Stay in ketosis for as long as possible. Stay in ketosis till I die. Smother myself with avocado and ghee. Swim in ocean. Eat carnitas with no tortilla. More avocado. Swordfish fillet. Ghee.

This morning was a productive morning in the soul-searching arena. The following things came up:

  1. Why do I think that changing my externals will make me happier? Substituting boat for apartment or house? Seattle for another city? Chipotle chicken burrito for steak?
  2. Why can’t I approach the soul searching from a place of calm, curiosity and creativity as apposed to: You’re a washed-up 37 year old, you’re worthless, all you do is run and run and run and run?
  3. How can I learn not to want to excise the parts of me that think I’m worthless, that think my life is just passing me by and I’m not doing anything, that think I’ve wasted the last 10 years of my life?

God, all I can think about is this one pizza I had in San Remo, Italy right now. And this other pizza I had in La Spezia. And this other pizza I had in Fiumicino. Even the pizza I had a week ago in Lone Pine from Pizza Factory! We toss ’em they’re fucking awesome! A medium black-olive pizza, no meat, possibly because earlier that day I’d been communing with the gods at the Grandpa Peabody boulder, channeling my inner Kevin Jorgeson, my Jimmy Webb, my Daniel Woods, my Nina Williams. Am I allowed to eat if I go fishing right now and catch my own fish?

I am definitely in ketosis right now. Autophagy might be taking place. Inflammation is down.

Let me tell you a quick story: This morning I was getting ready for my morning swim, looking out at the ocean, stretching, wrapping all my stuff in a towel so you couldn’t see my wallet and my mask wouldn’t float away. I went down the stairs to the beach and waved to a hotel employee at the next hotel over who was standing on the breakwater. He waved me over. I could see some little black shapes on the beach. They were turtles, baby turtles. And they were dying.

“Throw ’em in the water!” he said. “Way out there!”

I grabbed the first baby turtle, sticking my hands way underneath it so I could lift it up on the sand it was resting on and not have to touch it. It was waving its little flippers. And then I waded out into the water and tried to toss it over the breaking waves. One of the little turtles was missing a flipper. One of them, after it was in the water, just floated with its head down. For all I know none of the baby turtles made it. I’m assuming their brothers and sisters hatched last night and most made it into the water under the almost full moon. Many were then probably devoured by predators. Most will probably die before they make it to adulthood. And then this morning came these little guys, who obviously missed the memo about needing to leave last night. And even though they probably all died, I like to think that one of them, just one of them, made it. And in 15 or 20 years it will lift it’s head out of the water and smile, and be happy to be alive.

Aka the only thing I can think of right now is a buttered swordfish fillet.

– Wetzler

Dreamcatcher (#3)

There is a beverage that is the stuff lucid dreams are made of. It’s called GT’s Dreamcatcher and there’s a cold bottle of it currently resting against the skin of my palm. Using my hand-like appendage, I bring the bottle to my lips and drink of these life-giving waters, these waters infused with such things as beta glucan and alpha gpc and organic coffee from the coffee berry. If you were walking deep in the Amazon, or possibly in the Sierra Madre, and came across a stream bubbling with such waters, you would stoop, not unlike a deer fawn, and drink from them. And then would stand up again and exclaim, “Ahhhhh, tastes like beta glucan.”

For the record, I have no idea what beta glucan does. Maybe something with the muscles. Either way I just got a good dose of it.

Yes, friends, welcome to my morning routine, or rather the morning routine I wish I had. I don’t usually drink GT’s Dreamcatcher, the grocery department’s finest wellness water, because, well, it’s kind of expensive. It’s also cold and here in Seattle it’s quickly becoming fall, so much so that when I woke up this morning I almost immediately threw on sweatpants, but of course dodged this impulse at the last second in favor of trousers that would make me look less like a vagrant.

Why am I talking like an asshole?

It must be the beta glucan.

Anywah, GT’s Dreamcatcher. Whole Foods Interbay. Morning routine. Like I said, Dreamcatcher is my favorite of the so-called wellness waters, and for one very specific reason, though to explain that reason I’ll have to take you back to my days as a young sprite living in Minnesota and attending elementary school.

I must’ve been about eight at the time. It was dark, probably about 7pm, and I was skating in circles on the ice rink behind the elementary school in Chanhassen, where I spent the second six years of my life. I went round and round on my little hockey skates, smiling, exhaling icicles, looking up at the stars, and eventually got tired and decided that after one more loop I’d go into the warming hut that was next to the ice rink. As I approached the warming hut, blades thudding softly on the rubber mats leading up to the door, I heard some laughing inside. When I opened the door a man said, “For 10 dollars each I’ll give you whatever you want.” My friend Jenny and I looked at each other. “Claro,” we both said, and what had begun as an ill-fated hitchhiking trip had now become us eating lobster on a bar next to a beach in Cuba at a fancy all-inclusive resort. After lunch we went to the pool at the resort where we met some Brits who got drinks for us at the bar and then eventually when we felt brazen enough we got them ourselves.

You see what I’m talking about?

Dreamcatcher. On sale now at Whole Foods, $2.50 a bottle.

Anyway, I don’t think I’m going to San Diego. Sorry to change gears, but I felt it pertinent to mention that since I talked about it in yesterday’s post. I just can’t justify going. Why go there when everything I need and want is right here? People never talk about how much air travel pollutes. It’s like it’s some necessary evil. And granted sometimes it sort of is. But I don’t need to go to San Diego. I’d mostly be going because I’m bored. Which means I’d just be straight polluting, and I don’t know if I’m ok with that. It’s like how I have stock in Shake Shack (NYSE: SHAK). On the one hand I believe in this company, but on the other hand think of all the meat consumption. Am I ok with the massive amounts of meat processed for a fast food restaurant? When you’re a shareholder you’re essentially a part owner. So I guess I am ok with it. For now.

But I’m not ok with the San Diego trip.

I have now woken up from my GT’s dream and am drinking a yerba mate. My breakfast consisted almost entirely of meat. I am nothing if not hypocritical.

It’s going to be a beautiful day.

-W

Several Seconds too Late (#1)

I’m in Ballard. I didn’t ask to be in Ballard, and yet I’m forever finding myself there. That’s what happens when you live on the Magnolia side of the locks. You’re not going to go into Magnolia to do grocery shopping and run errands. That’s for the rich/criminally insane. If you live close to the locks you’re obviously going to cross said locks and do all of your errands in Ballard. You’re going to go to Trader Joe’s. You’re going to get the coffee samples given out by the lady who’s always gossiping about her co-workers. And then, loot in hand, you’re going to walk back to the locks along Ballard Ave, possibly stopping at Miro to get tea.

At least that’s one possibility.

There are many, many more possibilities. Some of them involve the bus. Some of them involve not getting tea. Some of them involve getting — stand by please — mate.

I have not had any mate today. Or yesterday.

But what I have had so far is green tea and black tea. The nook off the kitchen of my sister’s house is surprisingly tranquil. From it you can hear: A) the fountain from the neighbor’s yard, and B) the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. I don’t know which is more soothing. It also allows me to be close to my sister’s dog who likes to sit on the back stoop, surveying the yard for squirrels she can possibly murder. When she finds them she watches them intently at first, and then eventually goes sprinting after them, always arriving several seconds too late, or never having a shot in the first place since squirrels are generally in trees.

Generally. They also like power lines and fence tops.

If you’re a longtime Where’s Wetzler fan you know the following: 1) I’ve been traveling on and off for the past 10 years. I’ve visited many countries. I’ve visited many countries people don’t know are countries, like Monaco and Lichtenstein and San Marino, to name exactly three. But you also know that recently I promised someone — let’s call her my friend, let’s call her my mentor — that I would “settle down.” This meant me buying a boat in Olympia, sailing it up to Seattle, and living on it near the Ballard locks.

But fret not! I will still travel. Today for example I’m going to travel back to Trader Joe’s where I will buy more matcha/green tea cans. Yesterday I bought six. The idea was to ration them over the course of two days, but I ended up drinking all six yesterday. And then even more travels are on the horizon. Mexico in October. Vietnam in November. And I know what you’re asking yourself: Aren’t crabs just really big marine spiders? And the answer is yes, they’re probably in the same family. I would imagine they are. And someday I’ll probably get around to googling it.

And I know you’re also asking yourself: How are you going to have a blog dedicated to travel when you’re not even traveling that much, when you, Yaweh forbid, have SETTLED DOWN? And that’s a wonderful question. One to which I don’t really have an answer to yet.

I guess we’ll find out.

-W