forty one

PICTURES ARE A PAIN

Walter is my yard gnome. Walter is the name of my bike, I explained this in a previous post. As I travel alone the one problem is having pictures with me in them. Another problem is that I don't like to take the time to take pictures. 

Touring is a full focus event. Maneuvering through traffic, climbing hills, following maps and searching for signs takes most of my focus. As I see a potential picture, I must stop in a safe place, dig out the camera, and setup the shot.  

With one eye on my stuff, I have to take the picture, store my camera, get back on the bike and resume my momentum. This is with sweaty fingers and face and usually half out of breath. 

There is a line in the movie. The big chill, “sometimes you just let the art flow over you”. This is my favorite way to tour, “just let it flow over me”. However, the pictures in my head are not as valued as hard copies years later. 

My last trip I tried to focus more on pictures, I did a little better but pictures with me are still difficult. Walter winds up in most of my shots which serves two purposes, I can watch my bike and there is proof I was actually there. 

I have a small tripod but those shots are a real pain. Handing a three hundred dollar camera to a stranger makes me nervous. I didn't have that problem with disposable cameras. I want to improve on this in the future, but for now it’s my super model "Walter".

forty

MY ROOM WITH A VIEW

Earlier in the day Thomas continued on the main road to make time, I chose to take a coastal route because I wanted to explored a sheltered cove. I was heading into a headwind for a few miles but the great scenery made it worthwhile. 

There were many small fishing boats, each  with three and four people fishing for Coho salmon in the quiet waters of the cove. I talked with two fishermen in the camp we camped in the previous night. They were joking about how four guys who fished together in one boat for years and for all of those years they had all bought their own boats. 

They had spent the time and gas to hauled their new boats in for the weekend, but they were laughing because every year they went fishing in the same boat. 

I soon came upon a tourist spot with small cottages, but they were still eighty dollars and up the rates are usually cheaper on Sunday but that was too much. 

Five miles later I found a small town and a place with a view for forty five dollars. I figured it was the same ocean. If you pick your times you can cut a deal, cash always helps. 

This room had a great view. My hip was ailing so I was ready for a short day. There was enough time to wash my clothes and get some time on the beach.

thirty nine

EXTREME IS GOOD

York Beach, Maine in October. There was a driving wind straight off of the ocean with nothing to stop it for thousands miles. The raw salt spray was filled with sand. I actually like an overcast day like this because it is extreme. 

I love the experience of extreme cold, extreme heat and extreme distances, I guess that says a lot about me. I like extremes because it helps me stay awake. Not that I would go to sleep but easy becomes tedious and boring over time. 

The hard work of 100 miles creates a physical tiredness I can't easily explain. At the end of the day I lay my aching body down and there is a strange sense of satisfaction. Just think I save my money and use my vacation to endure this torment, you either get it or you think I'm a complete idiot.

thirty eight

CALL OF THE ROAD

The places I have seen, the stress of the grades, the wind, the sun, the smells and the people all sooth my mind, body and soul.

The road is a mistress, a strong and difficult task master. I am unable to resist its call and have realized I foolishly think I can control it. 

I am tested to my limits and beyond. Like the sea, the highway must be respected and at times feared, and like the sailor, I can't resist it's call.