Not all bicycle tours start the same
way. Some are planned to the T, some are undertaken helter skelter,
and some are in between. The same can be said with the path trodden
during our life. Some of us hold the railing making sure not to
stray, some never step foot in anther’s footprints, and some of us
take frequent forays into the woods to see what else is out there.
My bicycle tour was a foray into the
unknown, with a few known's. I left Burlington this past May knowing
that one day in September, I should be in Portland to meet Chris.
What I didn’t' know was how the journey would be, where it would
take me along the way or what would befall me on the other side. I
spent four months traversing the northern section of the country,
cycling past the great lakes, touching each. I crossed the great
rivers and into the great plains, with rolling grasslands stretching
farther than my eye could see. The earth gave way at the Badlands
and then boiled in the Black Hills, and finally exploded into the sky
at the Rocky mountains. I touched the sky in Colorado, and descended
into a world unknown to me, the northwest. The high arid desert, the
grand valleys with snow capped peaks often in view. Through glacial
lakes and gouged valleys into Canada to follow along the younger
Rockies and back down into the Cascade wilderness of Washington.
Near the end of my four months I beheld the wild and craggy Pacific
coast.
With friends I cycled south along the
Pacific coast, a route hailed the world over, and rightly so. A
contrast cacophony of sweeping, inspiring views greeted us at nearly
every turn, hills and switch backing downhills, we made our way to
San Francisco where me and Chris continued onward.
The next three months me and Chris
crossed through California, the Sierra Nevadas and into a sparse world
of the deserts of the southwestern North America. Full moon rides through Death
Valley, hurricane winds in Utah, barren landscapes of dazzling
mosaics piled high upon each other, the rocks and earth seemingly
playing an endless game of king of the mountain. With each
protrusion of rock, an equal if not greater gash was to be found,
the rivers digging deep into the earth, the Grand Canyon and smaller
cousins. We zigged and zagged through the southwest, breathing in
the fresh air, the slow uncluttered life of those we meet along the
way. And as the ice and snow began to fall, we entered Texas.
I soldered onward, solo again, across
Texas taking in the various landscapes the state displayed. Deserts,
hills, farms and finally the Gulf of Mexico. The bayous, marshes,
swamps and foreign culture of Louisiana and the deep south opened up
before me as the last of any hills gave way to cypress, magnolia and
mangrove. I followed ancient paths north through Mississippi before
heading eastward once again though Alabama and Georgia, where once
again hills gave way to the flat prairie, springs, and citrus of
Florida. And then, at the start of March, I saw the Atlantic ocean
and sighed, knowing that somehow, I had made it, and I sighed, not
knowing what was next.
My legs, my heart, and of course Eddy
all guided me across the earth for 10 months, leading me on a course
that was written in the trees and the wind, in the smiles of those
who were bewildered, of the helping hands, in the rain and and sun,
the starry nights, chilly mornings, breakdowns and jubilation. And
now, finally, my path (and my heart) is leading somewhere once again,
to Asheville, North Carolina. To live in the mountains and the
forests, where music and art and beer make a tasty stew, and the
single most amazing person I've ever been lucky enough to know and
love resides too.
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So, 15,216 miles cycled, 336 days
chugging along the paved roads of North America, and a new path to
explore. Thank you to all who have guided me along, to readers of
this blog, to the countless multitude who gave me shelter, food,
help, advice, someone to talk with. The people I meet and shared
with on this trip were just as varied and spectacular as the
landscapes I saw. To those I biked with for a day, for weeks, for
months. One can cycle solo, but only with a support crew. To
Bingler's big and small, I sincerely, warmly and with love, say thank
you.
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