Thomasina Pidgeon

Adventures and stories from Pebble wrestling, rope tangling, road tripping, van dwelling, nature loving, endless wandering momma.

Stories from Beyond

A collection of stories and thoughts inspired by life, heart break, love, frustration, beauty, the whys, or just simple silliness. Enjoy.

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The Surveilled Life of a Squamish Vehicle Resident

Hidden. That's how I must live these days. Or as one city councillor calls it, “flying under the radar”. My need for discretion lies in my choice of home: A beige minivan called ‘Incognito’. It is like any other van until you peer into the windows. Then all is revealed - a bed, stove, shelves full of clothes and food… My vehicle is my home on wheels which essentially means I rely on public lands. To avoid confrontation, a possible ticket, or risk adding myself to the District's data of illegal campers, I must escape the watchful eyes of concerned citizens and bylaw.  Like most towns these …

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souls unite

There was a warmth between us that felt eternal. Twisting around and within, it spread with a soft deliciousness that filled all our cracks and holes. Our spirits shaped themselves into their natural existence of no beginning or end. The comfort of our own skins allowed our bodies to move with grace and ease around the other, like a rose vine wrapping itself around its anchor. Seizing without choking. Letting go without needing. Our breath inhaled in patterns of tightening and loosening, quickening, then slowing down. Never gasping, nor trying. Having spent lifetimes apart, we understood …

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Forties

For my mother. they say we never really know how soon it actually will be yet, maybe in a weird way we do. It is just so damn painful, we refuse to look. “Human life begins on the far side of despair.”  Jean-Paul Sartre When the end of February approaches, a part of me freezes. This has happened every year for as long as I can remember. Like clockwork, analysis starts. As March turns the corner, this deepens and morphs into what perhaps can be only called a lighted version of despair. As the end of March closes in, another year of my existence on this planet will …

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Watchman

To live a night within these dark cold walls... night watch, day watch, guardian of the land. From the warning tower above, the rhythmic arrival of light casts itself into view. Sea birds cry loudly, screeching their songs in the distance. The strong smell of salt fills your lungs. Through square concrete windows, door wide open, the wind pays a visit. Every sense now awakened. Touching every corner, bitter cold drafts swirl on the floor. Never-ending. The roar of the ocean stirs the deep silence. Whitecaps visible under the light of the moon. The wind and the ocean conspire as one. …

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The Otter and the Whale

The Otter and the Whale

From the slough came webbed feet; paddling towards. Visiting us, the boat dwellers, sailors, and fisherman. Staring longingly he did; with pleading and depth. Large, brown eyes, conveying more than hi. Perhaps a message from the world underneath.   As when the whales arrived... The stars in their eyes, dancing and bellowing. ‘We are back. Those that stand in admiration, hear and understand. Speak for us.’ A timely visit… Many humans flocked to pay tribute, to witness them so close. But when it came time to stand, few spoke. Even fewer acted. A case of willful blindness?   The very …

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Hueco Wreckage

Hueco Wreckage

One day turns into two. Then three. We’ll see about four or five. Hell, maybe that five will turn into a week and we will fly away from this place. A vacation from the vacation. It doesn’t feel like a vacation. It feels like stress. A vortex has sucked me in so tightly, making flying away impossible. But if I were a bird, soaring high above with long feathered wings, black sharp eyes, different perspectives, I’d be free. A free bird. A pigeon bird. But first, the decision maker. To hear yes or no, I’ll move my fingers just so; lift my arms above and move the ball of my humerus around and …

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Tug of War

He, the language keeper, medicine man and sweat leader, paused at my daughter as she exited the sweat lodge. “Take this tobacco and hold it up to your heart.” Looking towards me, he said, “Your daughter has a heavy heart.” Understanding his words, a piece of me ripped in half. “Yes, it’s the school, two weeks away. She misses it...” The mother, the wanderer, the dreamer. On this short trip of elation made out of necessity for my own survival and wellbeing. A mere taste of what feels right; to heal the heaviness of my own heart. A trip to the desert; a fling with the sun. Back again. …

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Life in a Box

Imagine living your life in a box. You wouldn’t be able to move around nor see outside. It’d be dark, narrow, and confining. The need to escape would be shooting from every cell in your body. Tightly bound with lock and key, pushing to escape proves futile. Fresh air quickly diminishing while your eyes focus on the small slivers of light beaming in from the outside world. It feels suffocating. Restricting.  Being put in a box has the same sort of effect. Classified, square, predictable. And diminishing in every aspect. Coming with a label, your very own name highlighted right above the boxes …

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Our Trip in Prose

Afterwords...buried in unwashed clothesthe desert reminds us of its existencewith a cactus spikelike a thorn in ones sidepoking painful reminders of my absenceprovingit wasn’t a dreamDrying sage fills my vancollected when busyness subsided;Sand witnessed between floor cracks dragged in from days outskin bronzed from living under our sun gifting an extra wrinkleBishopbasking warmth, tired muscleseach cell tinglesgiving reason to be aliveFootprints of our four legged creatures off traildestroying without knowing, unlike usa soiled tampon lays at the base of our first boulderwhat’s happened …

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Quality Lost

My favorite pants disappeared. Its odd, really. Incomprehensible. I don’t quite understand how or why, nor do I remember taking them off at some random place and walking away pant less. My van doors remain closed when I undress giving them no chance to fall out. Yet perhaps, they are high spirited and decided to run off on their own accord. Given I found them at a thrift store some years ago, this could even be their second escape. They weren’t just any pants, they were wool pants, 100% wool in fact. High waisted, they caused a snugness above my belly button which was an unusually feeling …

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Freegan Milk

Based on a true story. Its 2015. We are in Magic Wood, Switzerland. Conor is in Magic Wood too. That’s how we met. Maybe you know him? Conor Houlihan…? It kind of rhymes with hooligan. He was one of a kind. IS one of a kind... As far as I know, he’s alive and well; perhaps walking across Mexico or something of the sort. You see, Conor does those really long walks that cover whole countries sides; the kind that can take weeks, even months to finish.  He travels with a back pack smaller than the one I take climbing which is really quite impressive. It doesn’t take long before meeting or …

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A taste of Spring

She stood on the green grass about to approach a forest which loomed with spiders, ticks and little critters that had teeth sharper than her kitchen knife. Looking deeper, the light appeared to disappear into the shadows of a thick green foliage. On her back she carried a crash pad; a piece of equipment used for the type of climbing she preferred, bouldering. It used to be part of her everyday attire but it had lain dormant on the shelf of her workplace; thrown on top of the highest shelf in a large room housed with hundreds of odd multicolored plastic holds of various sizes and shapes. It …

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Bishop Air

The drive south was blistery and full of detours. The thought that we were approaching the California border seemed unreal. The view from the driver’s seat was that of the opening galaxy scene of Star Wars. Coming straight towards us were thousands of tiny white spots encompassed in a sea of darkness. As a kid, when my dad drove through snowstorms, this same view would mesmerize me. I’d struggle to find focus among the movement of a thousand tiny speckles. As tempting as it was, it took a lot to not drift back into that realm; if my focus didn’t stay on the road I’d end in the ditch alongside …

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1 year, 3 weeks & 5 days

As if under a spell, the idea of staying anchored in one place for the duration of an entire year, attached itself to me like a starved leech. It was an idea that wouldn’t budge or compromise; leaving a strong sense of obligation before even starting. That if I didn’t follow through, something dire would happen… That if I left the said vicinity, some horrid curse would be laid down… Maybe it is the slight OCD in me but I followed through. Through thick and thin, the spell, felt curse at times, swallowed and bound me to a land which I both loved and despised. Through two cold and snowy …

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Adventuring into the Unknown

There is a confession wanting to come forth. Holding onto the idea of van dweller of 20 plus years, there is currently a slight untruth to that. Exploration has taken hold into areas taken for granted to most western people but with my own free will and desire, I became unfamiliar with. The confession isn’t large. It is merely that our dwelling situation has expanded. To be clear, it is not a mansion in which we reside though it certainly feels like one. The place is more of a small box; bigger than the comforts of my van, but lacking the freedom of wheels. There are no amenities like a …

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The Affair

I don't kiss and tell. Nor do I tell the the name of this one being which I will speak of. Mainly out of privacy. Or more so, perhaps I fear superstition. That if I speak to loudly and reveal that before actually sending, a curse may fall upon me (if it hasn't already), and that i will never send or conquer that which already has bound it's spell upon my being. Simply, it's like this: an obsession. Why? Unexplainable. It just is. When I first heard it's name, I wanted to climb this problem. Later, the same reaction transpired when I  saw a photo of it. When it came to meeting it in …

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Inquiries of a climber

I have an old friend; a fellow climber I’ve been recently reunited with after years apart simply because of the sheer land mass and great seas which divided us. We first meet at the Belfast climbing wall at the university where he studied physics and where I was a mere nomad; exploring the city streets and troubles, learning about photography in the lightest of darkrooms, and simply allowing the beautiful accents to fill my thirsty ears. Not yet a full-fledged climber, my spare time was spent dabbling. Climbing with all its lightness was new to me. Gustau and his beautiful family came to …

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Adventures of the Dark Side

You know those moments in your life of such clarity that make you question how you made it as far as you did; those moments that make you feel as if you’ve been living with a sheet over your head. It’s not the sort of spiritual awakening which I refer but more the real, sharp, in your face kind of clarity that unfortunately is called… reality. Reality… we have met before. For reasons within my own nature I often let you pass and continue on my way. Nothing is going to prove me wrong, especially you. Nothing will stand in my way, especially you. In fact, I kind of hate you. Life is too short …

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Insights of Coaching

In front of me sat eight little people who looked up at me with a combination of eagerness and shyness. It was a scene oddly familiar from years back, yet completely anew. Here I was, about to coach gymnastics for the first time in years. Part of the job title was to display the gymnastics circuit for the kids later to mimic which made me feel slightly queasy. Let’s make a couple things clear, this is recreational gymnastic which means easy but I was never specifically any good at gymnastics and it has been years. Despite starting at an age considered ‘too old’, it was my first love and if …

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Commitment, sabotage and the temptations of Spain

The Spanish landscape reminded me of the long drives I’d taken in the southern states. The ground was dry and the air, fresh and crisp; it was akin to stepping into summer. The warm air filled the spot in me that had been longing to roam the Hueco Desert. The sun, it infiltrated me so deeply, I melted. This was pure enjoyment. My pre-coming wavering had been in vain. We were around a delightful combination of old friends and Sarrasonna rock. My body felt light and strong; movements came easily, relaxed and without thinking. It was back to basics; simple, pure and innocent. There were no …

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Thomasina Pidgeon