By Dave Parrott
Photos by Sherry Panttaja

It's been almost 2 weeks since Vision Quest took place.

Vision Quest isn't just another event for me: It's not something that I simply want to finish or place in. The name suggests that there should be something more... and I take that very seriously. Last year, even though I did not "finish" the Vision Quest, I still received the blessing of a vision that I wrote about last year. I will always hold that gift close to my heart. Last year was about family... my family; this year was different. This year was friendships and the bond that runs between individuals from the moment they meet.

It started, by chance, with you... about 3 weeks before the event. I zapped off an e-mail asking you if (because I was doing the early start) I would need lights and if there would be a place I could drop them off at Aid Station 1. You wrote back stating that I wouldn't need lights because there would be motorcycles (with lights) guiding the group out of the canyon and that there would be enough light by the time we headed up towards Beek's Place. Well.... when I arrived at 4:30am, it was freezing cold (28 degrees I heard) and maannnnnnnnn it was dark! And... I had no lights! So, at 5:00 sharp, the group of about a hundred of us took off and headed into that very dark canyon. While riding, I would ask people who had lights if I "sponge" off of there preparedness. Their answer was always a, "Oh sure! No problem!" Right there, at that most insignificant moment, a bond between myself and the other(s) was formed. It was neat to be blind, yet, through a sacrifice of someone else, I was given the ability to "see". By the time I was heading out of the Ranch and into the first switchback, my pace had settled with a group of five other guys who were more than happy to slip behind me so I could see the road ahead. And, it was there that I began to receive the beginnings of my Vision... again, thanks to you.

Chris, I can't imagine my life without my friends. Yes... I have my wife and my two boys. They indeed, are the very breath of my life. But, my friends... they are the lights in life: Bright spots that illuminate the mundane... just like those headlights.

By the time I was at the top of the switchbacks and zipping down to the meadow (still far below Beek's Place), there was plenty of light and the need to rely on the headlights of my "pack" wasn't necessary any more. However, as a group, we kind of stayed together throughout the event. And these people I rode with were so inspirational! Doug is 61 years old and he was riding a beautiful green single speed. Imagine that: 61 years old and climbing those hill like he had a motor hidden in one of the bike's hubs! Each time we'd pass by, we'd both make sure the other was okay. Then there was Matt... another inspiration! Fifteen years old and going for his Vision Quest. I recall back to when I was fifteen and there is NO WAY I would have even attempted something like Vision Quest. Like Doug, as Matt and I would pass back and forth climbing or descending the hills, we'd egg each other onward. There was also Don. When he spoke, he sounded as though he belonged on a lobster boat off the coast of Maine. He had that great northeastern draw in his voice. As we'd pass, it became customary to tell a small joke or small anecdotal saying simply to keep our strain under control with a bit of laughter. The laughter would bring on strength and edge us both forward. Another rider was Jason. He was doing the Counting Coup. He and I had a blast as we descended Holy Jim. Our thing was encouraging each other to make the switchbacks without putting a foot down. Because of his encouragement, I was able to make every one of the switchbacks... something I have never been able to do before!

When I made the final cutoff point by only five minutes, I have to be honest, I nearly cried. It was very emotional for me to have actually made the cut off and I was being allowed the honor to continue on. It was here, though, that my exhaustion was really settling in. So much so, that it took me nearly an hour to get to the bottom of West Horse Thief. I think I was about a third of the way up the hike-a-bike when I had run into my wall: I was done. I stood looking way up the side of the mountain and knew in my heart of hearts that I could not make it to the top. I was devastated, Chris. I laid my bike down, took my pack off, got out a Cliff bar, and stood there nearly sobbing. I felt as though I was failing myself, my family, and the honor of the Vision Quest. About ten minutes after I had stopped, Keith and Drew came up behind me. They stopped; chatted with me for a while, and finally I asked if they were sweeping the trail (they looked WAY to fit to be this far back in the pack... sheesh... Keith was carrying his bike on his shoulder for crying out loud!) They confirmed they were the sweeps. So, I told them, "Guys, I don't think I can go on." Well, you'd think I just told them that pigs could fly! They completely disagreed with me and told me that I had to go on... there was no way I should turn back when I was so close to finishing. So, one footstep at a time, I began trotting up the hill. Eventually, the three of us caught up with Matt and the four of us continued upward. In one of my many moments on this climb when I wasn't chatting with Keith or Drew (Matt was to tired to talk... poor kid), I was mulling many things over in my head.

The Vision was finally arriving: At the beginning of the event, I relied on those "friends" who had lights to get myself through the canyon. On Main Divide, it was my "friends" who kept me alert and witty that helped smooth the climbs. On Holy Jim, again, my "friends" who pushed my abilities to navigate the twisting trail. And now, at the lowest point (physically and mentally), climbing West Horse Thief, friends pushed me forward. Friends, Chris, are what push's me through my life. Day to day, week to week, year by year, my friends have always aided, helped, pushed, cheered, and comforted me forward. My Vision was complete... and I reached the top of the Hike-a-bike. And, wouldn't you know it: another "friend" fed me the best tasting, greasiest, perfect hamburger I have ever had!

And just to confirm my Vision: on the way down Trabuco Canyon, my tire blew out twice. Because of the nerve damage in my left hand, changing a tire is next to impossible.... Keith and Drew were right there to help... and all the others passing by would stop to make sure I was okay.

I crossed that finish line... and even though I passed through by myself, I wasn't alone. Nor, will I ever be so.

Thanks, Chris.

With deepest honor,
Dave