RAILS TO TRAILS
fifty seven
fifty six
DON'T JUDGE PEOPLE BY THEIR COVER
This was a Presbyterian church in South Carolina. There were
people outside so I asked if I could camp in their picnic area behind the church.
It was separate from the building so I thought they wouldn't mind.
The Pastor
agreed and then offered the use of the church shower which was very welcomed.
He said to remember, “We are Presbyterians”, which must have been an inside joke.
They were having a mid-week Bible study and Boy Scout meeting. Afterward an
older couple walked out to where I was cooking my evening meal. They were probably in their
eighties and both had walking canes.
They asked the usual questions then began
to tell me a powerful story. In their twenties they got married and took a bicycle journey from Seattle to San Diego, then across the country to Florida
and up the coast to New England.
These were real pioneers who did this in the
early fifties. There were no bicycle routes or bike maps, equipment was
primitive by today's standard and no one was doing organized tours. It took
them two years because they had to get jobs along the way for money.
I went from the wild eyed pioneer nomad to the pampered light weight with
credit cards, a cell phone and high tech gear. While we talked I saw the
twinkle in their eyes as they revisited the memories if their youth.
They were
so humble about what they had done and perhaps they had not thought about it
much until I appeared. We feel we have discovered something brave and new and
then we discover people like these.
Gary Fisher had not yet imagined doing
light shows for the Dead and building off road bicycles, the ride across America was twenty years away, and
most bikes had one gear and weighed a ton.
I kick myself for not getting their address,
but the short time we talked was eye opening.
fifty five
THE HOT SWELTERING SOUTH
The large roach type bugs moved in waves as they feel the vibration of my bike. I stopped to study then and they stared back. This was the perfect place to grow bugs, big bugs.
The people living here must love bugs.
fifty four
FIRST ENCOUNTER
I filled my water bottles then a man invited me to their service. I said I was headed for a campground for the night then he said, "camp here". Free was a great price I seldom refuse.
At around 11:00 PM they left for the night. I spent a hot night on their front porch. These were wonderful people.
fifty three
WELCOMING STRANGERS
fifty two
SWEET POTATO PIE
fifty one
IF I WAS IN A CAR I WOULD HAVE MISSED THIS
This was a small town in southern Utah, I had just started
my day and the weather was perfect. This was only the second day of my trip
back to Phoenix. I had been sick the weeks before I started so I was not in
top shape for the next day’s climb.
This wasn’t my first tour so I knew not to
focus on the miles and miss something interesting. I saw this fellow chillin’
by the road so I thought I needed a rest too.
I learned about the town and the
local politics. This nice man was the former Post Master who had actually built
the US Post Office over fifty years earlier as a young man. They had never paid
him so he took it home after he retired. It was small enough to drag home with
a tractor. He now uses it as a potting shed for his wife.
He had watched the world change
from this small town for about sixty years. I was just another character in the
endless parade past his home. We had a lot more in common then I first thought.
As we talked, I realized we were alike in many ways. He observed the world from
his spot in this small town, I watch it from the seat of my bicycle.
fifty
OPEN SPACES
The long stretches of the Navajo Nation were in a way soothing.
The traffic was light but fast moving. The narrow roads combined with 75 MPH
trucks sounds dangerous, but it was much safer than most highways I have traveled.
I was very visible because of the W I D E open spaces. I was again shocked that
people would come up to me in rest stops or restaurants to tell me they had
seen me hours or sometimes days before. This happened on all of my trips. I see
thousands of cars and trucks; however they see only one nut on a bicycle.
forty nine
LONG DAY
My one day and night hot one hundred fifty four mile ride
home. I camped in Chino Valley just north of Prescott, Arizona. My plan was to
reach Wickenburg and camp in a public campground.
I found some really great
coffee and a giant cinnamon roll in a quirky coffee shop in Prescott. It was a
lazy morning because I was planning a short day. About nine thirty or ten AM I
headed out of town.
What I thought was the last climb turned out to be four or five climbs but it was still green with pine trees.
The afternoon head winds kicked up along with the temperature.
This picture was after the last brutal hot climb with a stiff headwind, I
really wanted to quit. I then dropped from 4000 ft to 2000 ft in just a few miles where the air was hot but thicker.
The desert was over 100 degrees but I don't mind heat. The headwind was
still tough until I changed directions toward Wickenburg about thirty miles later. The wind shifted again and began to help, so I thought I would use it as an advantage.
I hit
Wickenburg and bought a gallon of water for the night to free camp in the desert outside of Phoenix.
I stopped once and asked a guy about camping in the area. He said that I would
probably get shot so I moved on. I rode on to the end of the sunlight. My small
battery powered lights are to be seen, not to see.
I don't mind riding in the city
where there are street lights but this far out it was becoming dangerous.
I found a store
and planned to cat nap until first light. I was wired so I rested a little
then continued on a few miles until I reached a small strip plaza with lights and then another.
I was still over fifty miles from home. My GPS said it would be three AM before I would get home. Phoenix in the dark is quiet. The occasional interruption were characters in cars, on bikes, and in the shadows.
There are friendly women or
men dressed like women were yelling something at me while I ride through
the dark streets. I just smiled and kept riding.
The police chased drunks and
met in clusters of flashing lights. All of the stores open at these hours had
the usual colorful nuts hanging out. I knew this because I was one of them.
Empty
dark streets are my favorite, but tonight no one had any idea of my long
odyssey. I reached home at 2:45 AM in silence, carried my eighty pound bike up
the stairs to the second floor, opened my hot apartment and sat my weary bones
in my favorite chair.
I showered, drank a gallon of cold water and ate a bag of pretzels. After winding down I crawled into my own bed.
Why
I rode so far is still a mystery, but I knew at 54,"I still got it".
forty eight
STRANGE CRITTERS
This cute little guy or girl was crossing an Arizona desert road,
this is an average sized tarantula spider in the wild. If you aren't familiar
with the local critters this gentle giant may frighten you. My point is that
every area has its unique dangers.
There are bears in the Carolinas, ticks with
limes disease in the east, West Nile Virus mosquitoes most everywhere,
poisonous snakes and poisonous spiders.
As I traveled through the country and camped on
the ground this always worried me. I chose to error on the side of caution and
sleep in my tent. There are big creatures that could eat through my little tent but
the little things were safely outside.
A little research, common sense, and
questioning the locals usually covers things enough to sleep comfortably. I
also don't search for bugs, snakes, or rodents, live and let live is my
philosophy.
I fear is being swarmed by bees, I had some bad
experiences in my youth. However that was after I threw an apple through their hive.
forty seven
SAN FRANCISCO PARKS
This is a peaceful park in San Francisco near China town. I
arrived early Sunday morning after turning in my rental car at the SFO airport.
It would be midday before my motel room would be available so I toured the city.
It the place was coming alive as homeless people
emerging from their hiding places. In the empty streets of China town the
vender trucks were making deliveries. I saw the great chicken escape. It was
like an old Keystone cops movie. Three cursing Asian men returned with multiple
chickens in each hand.
I had coffee and exchanged greetings with a guy who had a really cool track bike. He was possibly my first contact with a well
off schizophrenic. Out of nowhere he began shouting at everyone. He became an
outraged militant gay man who wanted to kill all of the straight people who
opposed gay marriage.
I smiled, finished my coffee and road away. This park was
filled with people doing their morning workouts, however there is an added element.
It seems they work up their mucus, and leave it in the park. I don't know if it
is a worldwide custom, but in this China Town Park, they make it an art form.
There was a sweet little Asian lady, I could imagine soon would be selling
ginseng or yang root in a local store. She was doing the traditional what I
think is called "chi" workout. Then she hacked up a lung from the
very depths of her soul and spit it into her hanky.
Another man woofer up a few chunks, a lady shot snot
out of her nostrils, first the right then the left. They soon left for their lives, free of
their nasty fluids. I imagined they never display this in other settings and I think
it is great idea.
I see too many sneaky nose pickers. If we all got it out in
the morning the world would be a beautiful snot free place.
forty six
BREAK DOWNS ARE PART JUST OF THE DEAL
forty five
CAMPING WITH A CHAINSAW CARVER
This is a free campsite in Utah, free because I could not
find someone to get permission. I don't usually "sneak" camp; however
this was a beautiful exception.
I met a guy in town who was living in a van. After asking me if I had any pot told me about
this place. He was a professional chain saw carver. You have probably seen the bears or Sasquatch carved from a log displayed in front of a diner in the west. I was a bit leery until I found out his chainsaw was in pawn.
There was a stream
a few feet away. I did enjoy the place and price, but slept with an ear and an eye. open.
There were other campers up stream with some impressive horses. For some reason I felt safe
with this stranger, but sometimes all you have to go with is your gut.
We talked for a few hours, one of those conversations you get the feeling was meant to happen. He opened up about a tragedy in his life that produced a lot of guilt. A guilt he was trying to escape in his van.
I listened and then pointed out traveling in his van for six years may not have worked because everywhere he traveled, there he was. It is hard to run away from yourself, I know because I have tried. I hope he has found some peace.
forty three
STANDING ON THE EDGE
This is the beginning of the Navajo Nation. I was at first intimidated
by the thought of riding to the distant mountains. Bicycle riding is different, time and distance perception changes. Anyone who rides a bike will understand,
but won't be able to explain it either.
For some reason it doesn't feel as far
as it looks. I bought some earrings from a Navajo tribe member set up in this
vista pull off. I told him I would wave when I got to the saddle, I did I wonder if he saw me.
.forty two
TAKE A BREAK
I rented a car and drove through Los
Vegas then to Cedar City, Utah. This was what they call the connecting trail. I rode through some beautiful country but the crown
jewel was the Grand Canyon. This is a morning rest stop with a view.
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
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 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.
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