The week before I left McKenzie Bridge was hectic, to say the least.  There were so many things to get done on the Motor Home to get it ready for my 10 month journey.  The rack for the motorcycle needed to be fabricated so it would fit into the existing trailer hitch on the back of the motor home. The carrier for the bicycle had to be re-fitted so that it would attach on the front.  The spare tire got tied on the roof.

With all these tasks demanding my attention the packing of the inside was done in a hurry and I was glad that I had opted to spend the first few days in a motel at the beach which would allow me time to get things organized while not having to live in a mess.

The False Start

As fate would have it, I got a false start for my sabbatical trip.  With folks from the St. Dominic's Parish  (San Francisco) waving their hankies I pulled out of the driveway of St. Benedict's at 4:30 in the afternoon of Friday, July 20th.  I was only one day late from my expected departure. Thus I began the journey that would take me all over the west coast and
include a trip to Africa where I would be doing workshops for our Dominican missionaries in Kenya.

I took my time driving down the highway while mentally going over a check list of items that I knew I would need.  BAM!  "Where are the keys to the motorcycle?" I didn't remember where I had put them.  Then it hit me. They're inside the helmet ... right where I left them ... sitting on the couch in the living room!  Luckily, I was only five miles down the road and made a quick turn-around.

I'm sure the folks from San Francisco were surprised to see me return so soon but I quickly got the keys and a few other items that I remembered I needed and made a second start.  It was an easy drive and I arrived at the ocean in time to enjoy my first sunset at the beach. However, I was so tired that I went right to bed and didn't even eat dinner.

On Saturday I enjoyed walks on the beach and took a motorcycle ride up the coast to the town of Waldport to check out the location of the Church and the times of Mass.  It was my first ride on the open highway and the longest trip I've taken on the motorcycle.  It was OK.

Mass on Sunday was at 10 o'clock and I gave myself more than the 20 minutes needed to get there.  It's a small church and the pastor was away on vacation.  The visiting priest was from Goa and told us that it was the first time he had ever been out of his country.  I'm sure it was also his first time he celebrated Mass in English and even though he had hand-written out his sermon it was very hard to follow.  The congregation was typical with mostly older people and a handful of families with young children.  They sang almost everything with organ accompaniment and some of the hymn choices would have been better with guitar or piano accompaniment. From where I was sitting, I could only see the head of the organist which bobbed up and down with every, distinctive beat of the piece.  I don't think even the best organist in the world could make "Lord Of The Dance" work well on the organ!

After Mass they offered fresh strawberry shortcake in the Church Hall but I was taken aback by the fact that almost nobody said a word to me.  Maybe they saw me arrive on a motorcycle and thought better of getting involved with such a character.    I went back to the motel and enjoyed another wonderful day on the beach.

I'm spending most of my time not having to do anything.  I sleep late, eat well and take my much needed rest.  In the early part of this next week  I'll spend some time getting the motor home organized and also scope out a State Park just up the road to see if I can get a space there for the next leg of this journey.

For myself, I'm on this beach near Yachats, Oregon.  Last night, as the sun was setting over the ocean, I took my bicycle down to the beach and tried to ride off into the sunset.  I had a brief visit with a dad and his young son and daughter who had made a sand castle the day before and were repairing it - hoping that it might make it through another high tide.  It did, but not unscathed.

As I was making my way back to my temporary home I spotted a crab struggling in the surf.  I stopped and gingerly picked it up, placing it in the basket of my bicycle.  It did it's best to get out but I made it back and to a pot of boiling water.  "Ah.  fresh crab dinner for the feast!"

A long time ago, when I asked my grandmother why she was going to such trouble fixing dinner when it was just her, by herself, she gave me wise words:   "Eating is a sacred act and you mustn't ever give that up.  It would be so easy for me, an old women, to end up eating out of pots and pans while standing at the sink.  Life has got to be more than that."

So, taking my grandmothers words to heart, I will fix a feast on this feast. None of us are ever alone.   We're always part of something greater than just ourselves.

I'm fixing a great fresh crab dinner with tossed green salad complete with wine and french bread.  "Life is too short not to enjoy a good meal."

From the beach at Yachats, Oregon.  This is Brother Daniel Thomas, on the road.

Here is a picture of St. Anthony's Church in Waldport, Oregon.  This is where I've been going to daily Mass since it is just a short bicycle ride from the KOA Kampground where I am staying.  I'm just about at the end of my first entire week of living in the motor home and on my own.   For the first few days of my sabbatical  I was comfortably ensconced in a lovely beach-side motel where I could see the waves lapping up on the beach.  Now I'm at a KOA Kampground at Waldport, Oregon halfway between Florence and Newport.  Thankfully I'm at what they call a "full hookup" site and I lucked out in that I'm at the end of a string of sites so I have no neighbors on one side.  I can't see the beach, but you can't have everything.

The picture shows my campsite on one of our 'typical Oregon summer days' but at least it's not raining though it might be kind of overcast. 

But inside there's always time for a nice, fresh cup of coffee in the morning.

This is the first time that I've actually lived full-time in the motor home.  I pulled in on Monday afternoon, July 30th and didn't have any trouble getting my water, sewer, electric and even TV hooked up.  Even though I'd spent the previous week organizing the motor home I still wasn't ready for total living - and my first meal was less than spectacular since I was stepping over boxes and looking for the spices and couldn't find anything.  I finally turned in and cuddled up in my bed and all seemed well.

Then I got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom.  WET RUG!  And I'd just stepped into the bathroom and hadn't even done ANYTHING.  Something's leaking and it's not me!  Fortunately, I was quick enough to disconnect the water line outside and the leak stopped.  I went back to bed but I have to say, "I didn't sleep very well for the rest of the night."

In the morning I set my priorities.  I am right in Waldport and just a stones throw from the Church so I figured I could make 8 o'clock Mass on my bicycle in about ten minutes.  The sun was out, it was a nice day.  "Put God first and God will be there in your last resort."

So the saying goes.

After Mass and after breakfast - cold cereal with my last banana and a piece of toast, and, of course a good cup of coffee - I set out to tackle the water issue.  Murphy's Law prevailed.  The water-in line (where the leak was found) is on the back side of the toilet close to the wall and close to the edge of the sink stand.  All the connections are in plastic and supposed to only be 'hand-tightened.'   It wasn't just a matter of tightening the connection.  Working blindly and in reverse, I had to figure out which way to turn the connection.  Getting a small mirror didn't help at all!  The one thing that I discovered was that I could never be a brain surgeon or a dentist if it required me to work with a mirror.  I felt like MY brain was going to explode trying to get the antique wrench that came with my brother's tool kit around the nut and turned in the correct way. Even when I got it in the right position there wasn't enough room for the wrench to move enough to do any good.

"Beach -friend" to the rescue.  The 'kite man' that I met on the beach earlier last week wrote me an e-mail about going on an excursion.  I responded with a note that I was having 'plumbing problems.' He miraculously showed up a short time later - complete with well equipped tool kit - and together we solved the problem.

The wind came up.  He took off to fly kites and I continued cleaning up. That's when discovered my SECOND problem.

I casually lifted up a little piece of carpet by the door to shake it off.  It was WET!  How could water from the bathroom get all the way over here? No.  It's coming from under the sink.

Thus began my second crisis in less than two days.

I began opening cupboards and pulling out drawers under the sink.  It was all wet.  The little curved trap of the drain was totally disconnected from the drain pipe.  This crisis, though, was more easily repaired since the connections had just jiggled loose over time.  I got all my repairs done just in time to begin cooking dinner.

I'm finding that I am living and eating more simply.  Space and circumstances necessitate much of that decision.  I know that it will take me a little time to get adjusted to living in such a confined space.  I spend a lot of my time moving things around and then looking for the things that I put away.  There's not a whole lot of cabinet space and I keep moving my little plastic milk carton containers (that I'm using for storage)  back and forth looking for that package of spaghetti that I was sure was in the box marked "Kitchen."

My brother has not used this motor home much in the last few years.  It's been a real challenge for me to set up full-time housekeeping under such circumstances.  In our ordinary, day to day living at home, we don't realize how many things we take for granted.  There are so many items that are always there.  I've had to begin from scratch and I laugh as I catch myself looking for two tablespoons of vinegar and wondering,"What else will I discover missing from my larder?"

And then I think of how lucky I am.  I have a place of shelter.  I have food and lodging complete with TV and hot and cold running water.  I have a warm bed.  I have the opportunity to enjoy the freedom of travel.  I have a cell phone, a lap-top computer, connections to the internet and easy transportation.  How many people in our world don't even have running water in their homes?  And I get worried and upset over a little leak?

Already this sabbatical journey is showing me how to put my priorities in order.  I just hope I can get out and about on the beach tomorrow and not have to do "housekeeping."    In a few days, the friend that I met on the beach last week is picking me up and taking me to a kite store where I will get my first, 'high-tech' double string kite.  I have never worked with one of these speed kites before so this will be a new experience for me.  Much different from the hand-made, newspaper kites of my childhood.   Much of this comes to me because of the generosity of the people who are friends of the Dominicans and the work we do around the Western Province.

In a few days I will continue my travels north and will be at Newport, Oregon on Monday, August 6, 2001

    On Monday, August 6th I packed up the motor home and left the Waldport KOA Kampground heading north along the Oregon coast.  There is no way that you could say I'm making speedy progress in this journey.  Since arriving at the ocean in the little town of Yachats on July 20th, I've only made two jumps: Yachats to Waldport, ten miles; Waldport to Newport, another ten miles.  At this rate or travel I'll be lucky if I make Seattle by Labor Day.

    I've been just a few weeks into my sabbatical year and already I've made several readjustments in my goals.  Long before I left McKenzie Bridge I made myself a promise that I would never get up on a morning and say, "Better get going if I'm gonna make Albuquerque - or wherever - by noon!" This promise was made on the basis of what I've called my "four basic principles of travel." I have them posted right on the wall above my door. I think they are so important that I'll bore you by repeating them here. Maybe you can incorporate them into your life and journey.

1) "Happiness comes through doors we never knew we left open."

2) "Don't cry because it's over.  Smile because it happened."

3) "Most of us go to our graves with our music still inside us.

4) "A truly happy person is one who can enjoy the scenery on a  detour."

    Already, so briefly into my sabbatical journey, I've realized that the main purpose of this year off is to give me time to move and experience life's gifts freely without any pressure to accomplish something.  I'm one of those people who grew up with a notion that the more you do and the more you accomplish the more the people will love you.

    I'm reminded of the well-known adage that my friend, Fr. Richard Rohr used in a retreat.  He turned it around and said ,  "Don't just do something. Stand there." How often we need to pause in our rushing around and see the beauty of God's creation which is happening all around us.

    My location here in Newport has been a delight.  When I first checked it out and made the reservation they gave me a small site that was squeezed in between a long row of campers and motor homes.  I thought, "Maybe I should have stayed at the KOA where at least I had a nicer spot." Then when I actually checked in the reserved space was not available and they had to give me another.  It was really a case of "the last shall be first..." and I ended up being at the end of a street, backed up against a wooded creek with no neighbors behind me or to my right.  I have a picnic site, a cement pad and the shade of a couple of large trees.  It has turned out to be so nice that I will stay here until Friday, August 17th.

    I'm within walking distance of the Newport Wharf and an easy bike ride to Sacred Heart Church where daily Mass is at a comfortable 12:10.  I quickly found the easiest route to take that only involved pushing the bike up one steep hill.  I have to go round about a bit and it takes me about 20 to get to the church.  Coming back I can go more directly and make it in about half that time.  St. Benedict's has many friends who live in this area.  I have met many of them at daily Mass.

    Being here in Newport, Oregon, I had the opportunity to spend an entire day at the famous "Newport Aquarium."   Right away, as you enter the aquarium, you encounter the jelly-fish display.  In this dimly lite room you come upon many circular, totally viewable, floor to ceiling tanks each housing a different type of "jelly." One of those tanks held the tinniest and most delicate creatures that I had ever seen.  Totally transparent and supposedly without brains or skeletons these little jelly fish, which were not any larger than a quarter, pulsed and moved through the water with long, thin strands of tentacles dangling below their fragile dome-like bodies.

    I stood in front of that tank for the longest time.  How could anyone doubt the existence of God while looking at such a delicate example of his work? Needless to say, I thoroughly enjoyed my day at the aquarium.

    On my way back to my trailer park, as I was walking my bicycle across the Newport bridge, friends from McKenzie drove by and spotted me. Kelly and Bruce Urey were staying nearby and they stopped and met me as I came over the bridge.  I was invited to their place for an enjoyable evening.

    Kelly and Bruce were my second visitors here at the Harbor Village Trailer Park.  On the eve of the Feast of St. Dominic, Fr. Anthony Rosevear came and we had a good time.  He stayed overnight and it was the first time I used the bed that can be formed by removing the dinner table.  I was surprised at how comfortable and easy that worked.  Still, I can't help but wonder how my brother and his family ever travelled in this motor home. I'm only one person and I often find myself cramped in tight places.  How did they do it with five people?

    Next week I'm going to the Visual Art Center at Nye Beach as they are offering three days of art introductions.  This will give me exposure to three forms of painting: watercolor, acrylic and oil.  I'll also try to fly my kite again although it has often been too windy on the beach for me to take a chance with my new kite.

    So I continue my journey.  I have found that no matter where I go I keep running into "former Catholics." I never hide who I am but reveal it gradually.  The other night my next door neighbors invited me to share their dessert. We got to talking which eventually gets around to, "What do you do and where are you going?" I usually tell them that they probably wouldn't guess in a million years what I do.  This time one of the women responded with, "Oh, you're probably a priest or a rabbi!"

    And of course it turns out she "used to be Catholic" and this opens a door to interesting conversations.  The pastor of the Church here, Fr. Jack Wells, commented on this phenomenon by saying, "Brother Dan, didn't you know that the largest denomination in the world is 'former Catholics?'"

    There's lots of missionary work to be done out here in the streets and highways.  I'm sure these folks that I meet along the way will never forget the unique brother wearing shorts and sandals with the motor home, motorcycle and bike that then encountered during their vacation.  I hope they remember that I'm able to do and be all that and still be involved with the Church.