MEMORIES OVER FLOW
Visions of my trip roll through my memory. I want to tell someone everything I experienced. I'll post more in a few days. Rhonda, thanks for the note.
one hundred ten
one hundred nine
MY MOTHER THE WORRIER
Mom and Dad traveled a lot until he became ill with Altzheimers and died eight years ago. You know when you return home, no matter how old you are, you become a little kid and are reminded to eat, watch crossing the street and to get enough sleep. No matter how old you are moms will always be moms.
That is why my Mom has no idea of my travels by bicycle. I wish she could see my blog and share my adventures, but she would never sleep and one night out of cell range would have the police in three states searching for me, that's just how she's wired.
If I call her while on a local training ride she gets upset when I don't call when I get home. I love this great lady but out of sight out of mind is better but I wish she could enjoy her little boy's adventures as he plays.
I will someday share all of this, but I still have a few more miles in these legs. We were on roads I had toured and saw the places I camped and ate, it was hard not to say something. I spent way more money then I planned, but the smile on her face was worth it.
one hundred eight
This picture has nothing to do with cycling, but those are my old boots. I wore them when I checked my traps before school. After I thought they were worn out my Father wore them for ten more years shoveling snow. I'm now 55 and things like these seem to draw my attention. Perhaps without bicycle touring I wouldn't have noticed, I've learned to look for those little things.one hundred seven
ONLY IN OHIO
There were small stores where the cashier talks to everyone without the canned phrases like "have you found everything?" There are still farms with twenty cows and a Farm-all tractor built in the sixties. Sports team jerseys and the mullet hair style will still attract the ladies.
Drivers know how to change a tire and jump a dead battery and so do the men.
This is America at it's best, some may look down at this part of the country but wisdom doesn't always come from ivy league schools. I have learned a lot from farmers and shop workers. I'm always proud to be from this wonderful place.
This is a picture from the internet, but I'm sure there is one on a house in eastern Ohio. Don't think it would be on the front door, we're not without class. We nail our deer racks and fish heads on the back of the garage.
one hundred six
FRESH EYES
I've lived in the southwest for almost twenty years and the vast open spaces still blow my mind. I travel back to the Ohio valley area where I grew up and see the place through new eyes. By new eyes I mean I see it fresh like I've never seen it before.
If we live in a place long enough it can become invisible. Even the Grand Canyon would become that big hole in the ground over time.
I talked to people who live places like this, they talked this way. I have found people bored with beaches. I know this is a normal process but does it have to happen?
I knew a man named Westley Hanna, born in 1900 and lived his whole life within a five mile area. He looked out of the same window at the same pasture for endless years. He had a garden in the same spot, drove the same roads, watched the same sunrise and sunsets for even more years. He was able each new day to see something new in these places and that always amazed me.
A trip through his garden was an adventure, I got an education about the life and the behavior of cows every time we looked out of that kitchen window. He looked at things in a wonderful way.
I have met many who could see what was in front of them, one was my Dad. We waited for trains to pass almost daily in this small industrial town. We could just be angry because we had to wait or accept our fate and watch in wonder. I sometimes think my Dad would rather watch trains then drive.
Dad drove steam trains during the war and had a romance with them ever since. I thought he was nuts, probably because he was my Dad but I know a lot about trains now. My point is seeing what is in front of us is a mind set.
The Grand Canyon is a mind blowing sensory overload that everyone can see, but even it can become boring. I believe I have learned a little about how to see the mind blowing things in boring places. In other words a shuttle launch or a bird building a nest, both are a wonder but one is just easier to notice.
one hundred five
HONEST TOUR GUIDE
I have questioned this after seeing a tour bus filled with blind tourists. They piled out with eyes skyward, service dogs and white canes. Two headed the wrong way and the tour guide turned them around.
I was unable to bring myself to sneak a picture, not that they would notice, it just didn't seem right.
There may be an energy or force I can't detect. I just don't think there is a white cane long enough to feel the width and depth of the canyon.
One thing I do know, the tour company is reputable. They could have stopped at any quiet parking lot and lied.
one hundred four
BEAUTIFUL DISTRACTION
The sunset at the Grand Canyon is one of the highlights of the American National park system. I took this beautiful picture, along with everyone in the campground. Unfortunately some people were taking advantage of this distraction to steal things back at the campground.
It sounds crazy but in this beautiful wonder of the world there are a few scoundrels. To enter the park it costs $25 per car and $12 to camp. You would assume you were safe from thieves. I guess it makes sense because everyone goes to see the sunset and the camps are empty.
I was not a victim because I am usually in survival mode. I trust people but I avoid tempting them. The campers across from me had their truck broken into and others also lost things from their tents and campers.
The park rangers came and filled out reports for insurance. The Ranger said it had been a problem for sometime. They are obviously better outdoors men then cops. I think it would save them a lot of paper work if they sent a park ranger earlier to watch the campsite as the sunsets....Duh!
one hundred three
STRANGE PETS
The backyard had a pool, hot tub, picnic area with a fire pit, swings, trampoline, boat, camper and assorted toys.
There was also a fenced in area that held a lama, goat, sheep, chickens and an ostrich.
one hundred three
A PRIVATE LEARNING EXPERIENCE
This is what an ostrich looks like just before it strikes, ouch! No one was there to laugh until now.
one hundred two
ZION NATIONAL PARK
At 19 I had a bad accident and crushed my leg and hip. The motivation came from a comment from my father in law that I was a cripple. That comment helped motivate me to stay physically fit to prove him wrong. I guess inspiration comes from unexpected places.
Touring is now my motivation. I have simply worked to stay fit enough to tour, because that's what I love.
This is Zion National park and yes, I did ride up from down there. Not bad for a cripple.
one hundred one
SITTING STILL IS EXHAUSTING
The scenic pull offs show new vistas that at first look exactly like the last. If I take the time to sit quietly and look, many new details are revealed.
The hardest thing I do on tour is sit still and quietly look. It takes weeks on tour before I finally relax and settle down. My goal is to be where I am and see what is in front of me. That sounds easy but for me it's very difficult.
Once I do get there I see things, places and people in a wonderful way that is hard to explain.
one hundred
THE ESSENCE OF TOURING
I have food, clothing and shelter to survive the elements. The most important thing is the ability to stay safe. I'm pretty street savvy from some foolhardy years of hanging out in bad bars. I have learned to read people fairly well but I don't blindly trust everyone.
I believe in the good nature of most people but believe there are few truly bad people so "Be cordial with everyone but always have a plan to kill them." is my mindset.
No matter how skilled I am I can't make these trips without some help from total strangers. I believe you get back what you give out for the most part. I have learned to present myself in a non threatening way by watching my words and body language.
I explain what I am looking for, which is simply a safe place to camp, and allow them to offer what they feel comfortable giving. I have met strangers in the dark at the end of their driveway and an hour later I'm in their kitchen eating a home cooked meal, had a shower and clean clothes.
I don't refuse what they may offer but I make sure to show my gratitude. I always tell them how shocked I am that people can be so nice.
If I do ask for anything, I accept the answer no with a thank you. I must admit, I'm not sure if I would be so kind to a total stranger.
I am courteous and polite with everyone, but remain a bit of a mystery. I know I can rely on people in an emergency because of their kindness in general.
I am very comfortable in the middle of nowhere now, if I wasn't I'd just stay home.
ninety nine
THE SIDE OF THE ROAD IS A PRIVATE BUT VERY PUBLIC PLACE
I am alone but all I do is visible to everyone. I once wondered what my observers thought but now I don't. I imagined they mocked or perhaps marveled at my strange mode of travel.
In time they become simply things. I am only aware of their strange behavior. I must avoid colliding with them so listen for their speed, watch their wheels and hope for the occasional use of turn signals.
I watch them like a poker player, searching for subtle tells. They must be respected but not feared. I work around them and don't care for their courtesy, I just want to have a hint as to what the hell they're doing.
I have very thick skin compared to when I am their equal. I get the twinges of road rage when in my car but fully expect and smile at stupid when on my bike. I took this picture after leaving the bushes to escape their prying eyes.
ninety eight
THE PLACE I RELAX
I love small diners, truck stops, coffee shops, and mom and pop eateries. Hot sun, cold winds, soft rain, and long flat stretches of endless highway. The uncertain end to almost every day, with amazing surprises.
I long for another "visit"for I can't in reality live there, I can only "visit".
ninety seven
THE BIG CITY
The Navajo Nation was a wide open place with few places to buy anything but jewelry. I don't understand why there wasn't a small store selling cold drinks and ice cream.
Another surprise was the that the towns on my map turned out to be a few houses. There were no rest stops or gas stations for miles and miles. I started the day with a full three gallons of water which was what I thought would be plenty.
Sunset was only a few hours away and the town I had planned to replenish my water supply was only a horse corral and an abandoned trailer. I could not count on any water for the next twenty miles so I had to find a private house or flag down a car.
A few miles later I found this cluster of houses. This was the largest housing development I had seen for days. There were about fifteen small houses. There were no grassy lawns but each had a nice new pick up truck out front.
I had no idea who lived in these modest houses, but the trucks didn't seem to fit. I knocked on a few doors until a nice young woman came out of a house across the street and asked if she could help.
She was a tall woman dressed in business clothing. I asked if I could fill my water bottles and she said yes.
I stood at the door of this twelve hundred square foot house and was amazed at the interior. There was a wide screen TV, Mac computer, a large library, and leather furniture. They had oil paintings on the wall with proper lighting and an esspresso machine in the kitchen. I talked a few minutes and commented about their beautiful home.
She explained that limited water prevented having a lawn or swimming pool so the spent their money on the inside and nice trucks.
I thanked her for her kindness and headed down the road.
I did notice that people didn't seem to be surprised I was riding a bike. A Native American friend explained to me that how I got there didn't matter because I was there. I guess that makes sense.
ninety six
RIDING DOWNHILL INTO A HEADWIND
Cycling is mostly climbing if you measure it in time. It takes forever to climb a thousand feet at four or five miles per hour, the decent takes only minutes at thirty miles per hour. The down part is the most fun but it is short lived.
I once looked at climbing as torture, but spending the day in the beautiful outdoors in this mind set is silly. With the right gears climbing is easy but it just takes time so I try to enjoy it. However, if I climb for a couple of hours I want the payoff of a long down hill coast.
This was a day of headwind, what I call the invisible mountain. I live and train in the Phoenix area where there are very few steep hills.
The valley usually has an afternoon wind so I used it for my mountain training. This steep down hill section of highway can usually produce speeds of forty miles per hour and faster which is faster then I like to ride a loaded bike.
I usually worry about heating my brakes but this day I couldn't coast faster then fifteen miles per hour. The headwinds were so strong I had to peddle down hill. After looking forward to some miles of coasting this was very disappointing.
Earlier I faces a tail wind on the climb. This is not helpful because you ride in still air which is hotter.
Gravity takes you down the other side so the tail wind isn't a factor. A small head wind is cooling, but a strong one is a real pain. This day the climbs were brutal and the down hills were like flat ground.
However every day on a bicycle is a good day. This is a phrase I say out loud when the riding conditions are not favorable, it has worked so far.
ninety five
HORSE THIEVES SUCK
I have a mode of transportation that is not unlike a cowboys horse. He relied on it for transportation, companionship, and his very life. I don't kiss my bike, but it does have a name. I use it for transportation and rely on it for my very life.
I have heard horror stories of people losing their rigs to thieves. I can't imagine this even though I am prepared. As I drive my rental car to a city to begin a trip, I reassemble my bike, turn in the keys, then think about what I'm about to do. I maybe hundreds or thousands of miles from home and a chill goes up my spine as I think this thought; The only way I'll get home is on this bicycle.
The long stretches of nothing and no one are at first daunting. After a few trips I grew more comfortable striking out with only a bike. I will be honest, it is very exhausting and uncomfortable to ride these distances. My 54 year old knees are my biggest worry, crashes, thieves, illness, and breakdowns are always possible.
All I can do is minimize the odds. My bike is strong, reliable, proven, and user friendly. It is very rewarding each time I realize I have survived my odyssey. As I travel on this metal and rubber contraption, I hope people understand and respect how importance it is to my survival.
ninety four
FIVE NIGHTS IN A TENT
Five nights in a tent while touring are like this; the first couple of nights are fine, the third and fourth are tolerable and the fifth is enough.
I'm filthy, my clothes are dirty, my bones ache, and I need something cold to drink. I want a bath and a bed, and all day I had planned to find a cheap motel. The end of my day brought me to a tourist area where all of the motels are too expensive or full.
Reluctantly I search for another place to camp. The service station restroom bath this morning was just not enough, my clothes stink, I fact I have trouble standing my own smells. This night is going to suck.
I was once turned away from a place in LA. The girl at the desk looked me over and said "sorry, no vacancy", however I knew they were half empty. Their phone number was on the glass door, so I called and said I was a Lawyer from Ohio and wanted a room and a shuttle ride from LAX.
She cheerfully said there were plenty of rooms and where to find the shuttle. As we talked she noticed me in the window. She eventually realized my lips matched the voice on her phone.
As her face turned red I closed my phone and smiled. Then rode away into the sunset looking for a place for the night even though it would be miserable.
I made it a point to find a place early the next day. Sometimes I make it a short day so I can wash my clothes, soak in the tub, find a store and eat raisin brand cereal with cold milk and wash it down with a half gallon of ice cream.
I repack my bike before bed so I can get an early start. I feel like an old tom cat home from a two week adventure. I'm in a safe place so I can relax. I must admit clean clothes, long showers and those clean sheets are a true luxury.
Some places have a continental breakfast so I load up with sticky buns and fruit. Clean clothes, charged phone and batteries, clean and rested body, an hour on the internet to check in and pay some bills, I'm ready for 400 miles, and five more nights in my tent.
ninety three
THE HIGH DESERT
Utah near St George. This is the end of the spring thaw so this creek is usually very low or dry. Water and jobs are limited so the population in this part of the country low. This was mid afternoon and hot, it is still the high desert and dry.
ninety two
GETTING INTO THE MOOD
Now and then I need a roof over my head, a bath, a bed, electric outlets, and a TV. I budget myself to thirty bucks per day or less, that includes motel rooms. This makes me ride by some tempting motels at the end of long days.
I must be creative and find cheap if not free places to camp. I search for safe places to camp like backyards, church pavilions, pastures, baseball dugouts, cemeteries and even police station impound lots. Once I slept in a portable toilet during a rain storm for most of a night. If I find a little mom and pop place without a view by a grocery store, I'm in heaven.
I get cleaned up, catch up on the news, charge my phone batteries and clean my clothes. Sometimes the motel has a laundry and if you ask nicely they may allow you to use the motel washing machine and dryer. I have one load of laundry so stopping along the way works too.
I once found an empty laundry and thought I could wash all of my clothes. In only my bathing suit and extreme farmer tan, I put the last shirt in the washer. Five minutes later there were four mini vans and fifty kids asking their moms about the half naked man, somethings never fail.
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