two hundred two

FEELING SMALL, A VERY GOOD THING

The open roads of Nevada were a distant memory until I scanned through my pictures. The days were spent in silent solitude and surreal beauty. If you ever want to feel small, cycle these endless landscapes. After less then a week in my own bed the road is again calling me.

two hundred one

MEMORIES

You cannot know what stirs in me as I see this picture. It fills up my senses like nothing else. The pictures, sounds, silence, and smells of the road. I hope one day you can feel it.

two hundred

THE MORNING MYSTERY

My daily journey took me sometimes 100 miles from where I had slept the previous night. Each morning as open my eyes the inside of my tent is familiar. Everything beyond that was a new mystery. 

My mind would search for my location through my pre caffeine brain fog. Pictures flashed through my mind of previous mornings but I knew what was outside of my tent would all be new. I zip open the rain fly to reveal the surprise. 

The roar of morning traffic, the sounds of rushing water, the songs of wild birds, or the crowing of chickens would greet me. I didn't know what direction I was looking especially if it was over cast. The discovery that there was no dew, heavy dew or rain. This morning mystery was something I grew to enjoy. 

I soon will be back in my own bed with my own bath room which will be nice, but the nomad in me will be a driving force for life.

one hundred ninety nine

The North West Coast, its like New England with amazing sunsets but no chowder!

one hundred ninety eight

BICYCLE CULTURE IS BICYCLE CULTURE

It was a clear warm Saturday in East Cleveland, and there he was , a man named Daryl. He was the creator of this over the top two wheel ride plus several others he had in his bike stable. I love bicycles as did Daryl. I am proud to feature this man of style.

one hundred ninety seven

HOLY POLISH BOY AND A SODA

An East Cleveland Baptist Church was selling lunches as a Saturday fund raiser. I learned about Polish boy sandwiches. It's a Polish link that looked a lot like a hot dog in a bun, covered with Cole slaw and ketchup soaked French fries. The deal came with a Shasta soft drink or juice box. It was a new experience taste for me.

The people there were interested in my journey. They asked tons of questions and put me on their Sunday prayer list. I had one of the more meaningful conversations with a man about my age or older. After the usual basic questions, he asked me if I had found that people were good? From the look in his eyes I felt he was wondering if this country still had a soul and had good people. 

I assured him based on my experience there were still generous and kind people. I felt he feared the country was lost and it was too late. 

We discussed if a black man could do what I was doing and how he would be treated. We figured a man can always find what he is seeking. If you look for kind hearted people you will probably find them. If you search for hate, bigotry, and racism, you will probably find plenty. 

We shook hands and I rode away. I think we gave each other many things to think about. These were good people I think they saw the same in me.

one hundred ninety six

THE FINISH LINE

I made the coast of New Hampshire 4044 miles from San Francisco according to my GPS. This includes all of the miles Walter zig zagged around the back roads taking side trips. 

As I arrived I told the motel owner I had ridden from San Francisco, she didn't seem impressed. There was no fanfare just a warm bed and shower. I was more alone that night then any I can remember. 

It rained for the last three days and the next day will have severe storms forecast. I rode up the coast to Bob's Bike shop and met Bob and crew. It was nicer then the last visit, no stitches or x-rays. 

I rented a car and drove to the Akron Canton airport. I slept in the car that night then turned it in when the rental place opened then I rode 30 miles to my Mothers. 

She was cool about my traveling without telling her (for now). I am so tired I'll be like a returning Tom cat for a few days now that I'm in a safe place. I don't have to watch my back or sleep with one eye open. I'll post pictures soon. 

Dave and Will the young English men reached New York safely.

one hundred ninety five

THE REDNECK CHEERS

I reached Vermont this morning just before a storm. I slept under a pavilion next to the Dogtown Saloon in New York, it was a "Redneck" Cheers. They had bar food alcohol and the neighborhood locals. 

I asked if I could camp under the pavilion to avoid the threatening rain.  A few of the local women showed interest in my comfort but I don't think it had anything to do with the rain. I think it was more due to the after work beer break.

The place was wild until 3 am. They were very loud, crazy and drunk. I was tired enough to sleep in spite of the motorcycle burnouts and group sing along. 

The day after day ride is hard to recover from, but I'm so close I won't stop. 

one hundred ninety four

NIAGARA FALLS

 I reached Niagara Fall New York. I rode the Erie Canal until it got boring about seventy miles. 

I rode a while with a local man, one of those special people without a filter.  He had an old rusty Huffy bicycle that needed a lot of work. I made a few adjustments to make it ridable. He was ready to ride with me to the coast but his mom talked him out of it. We rode a mile or two to the rail road tracks where he told his mom he would stop and said goodbye. 

I asked a guy working in a parking garage about motels. He was very interested in what I was doing. After I arrived home he emailed me several times to tell me he was building a touring rig and planing his own adventure.

I found a motel owned by an Indian woman, go figure. She made a big fuss about how I looked. She wanted to put me in an Indie movie. She gave me a room for $25 and invited me to eat with there family. She was actually a movie producer and showed me a few she produced. I was flattered, had a cheap room, home cooked meal but I never heard from her again. 

I am a little thin but I've reached a new level of fitness and toughness. I can ride all day, eat anything, sleep anywhere, and stink up the finest restaurants. I maybe black listed from Sizzler because I eat too much, but I do cook my own meals, well mostly.

Niagara Falls was more then I expected. On to Lake Ontario.

one hundred ninety three

COUNTRY SMELLS

The breeze was humid but cool. The birds chirped in several languages, the air was fresh but lightly manure scented. The beginning of a long day of cycling through beautiful Iowa farm land. 

The moving pictures, the sounds, the smells, and sensations will run through my mind for years to come. My hope is that you can feel and understand these special days through my pictures and words.

one hundred ninety two

TIME FOR A NECESSARY BREAK

After 36 days or more on the road, I have developed the art of being discreet with some necessary bodily functions. On the occasion that I use indoor plumbing, it is a strange sensation not having to watch for cars.

one hundred ninety one

THIS MUST HAVE A STORY

An abandoned tree house in Iowa, I wish I knew it's story. 

one hundred ninety

A WELCOME STOP WITH AN OLD FRIEND

This is John, one of my greatest friends. I knew him in Ohio, then he moved to Arizona where I later moved. John is my "good for me Friend" because he knows me well enough to tell me things I need to hear. He is a man of character and has a great heart, we have had some wonderful and much needed conversations. I'll leave in the morning for wherever.

one hundred eighty nine

A DAY OFF OF THE BIKE

This as an old trolley car  from Chicago. I hope to ride one of these at a local museum later today. I have been off of the bike a full day and will be today. I have a beard, I'm a few pounds lighter and I have less money. 

I'm thinking about heading south to Florida, but I'm still not sure. I've traveled 2800 miles so far. Boston would be 900, Key West Florida would only be 1300...hmmmmmm? I'm torn because I'm wanting to get back home, but don't want this adventure to end.....hmmmmmm? 

Time to break out the maps. By the way those are tan lines not my socks.

one hundred eighty eight

NIGHT AT THE RACES

I reached Chicago Friday afternoon. I slept in a real bed and used inside plumbing at an old friends home. John and Debbie are old friends from Ohio and Phoenix. 

My bike needed some new parts in Omaha. The trip across Iowa was a learning experience because if the truly bad riding conditions. Not one road had a paved shoulder except for I-80 which restricts bicycles. 

A week ago Friday I had a great night at the local mud track car race. I was searching for a restaurant which had closed when I ran into a young farmer who offered me water. 

I asked about the race cars in tow I had seen throughout the day. He said there was a race in the next town 25 miles away. Then he asked if I wanted to go, this was the second time this exact thing happened. 

I camped most of Iowa and Illinois, only one rainy night and one awful day of headwinds. This is absolutely beautiful farm country. I’m glad so many of you are following my blog, I feel like I'm not so alone. Thanks to everyone who posted a comment, keep it up.

one hundred eighty seven

MAKING PEACE WITH THE VOICES

I have had just about enough solitude. I'm again bonded enough to communicate with cattle. My MP3 player broke, no radio, or cell phone and endless distances between anything man made. 

One good thing I've made peace with the voices in my head.

one hundred eighty six

MORNING FROST

I like this picture now that I'm warm, it was a cold morning in Utah.

one hundred eighty five

SHOP LOCAL

700 miles and no Walmart, now that's country. The only store for thirty miles was owned by a young couple who also farmed nearby. It is refreshing to find small America. 

The cash register was a metal box that I think was made for fishing tackle. and ran on the honor system. This place had an innocence that is lost in our big cities. No locked cars, alarm systems, or impatient words. It was worth the ride to know tis still exists.

one hundred eighty four

YOU CANNOT COMPREHEND HOW THIS TASTES

Heavy fuel for Highway 50, the loneliest highway through Nevada. I have an all new concept of BIG. This place is harsh and baron, but I find is amazingly soothing.

one hundred eighty three

NO ONE CAN SEE YOU PUSH IT

The mountain passes were still white and cold. At 7000 ft and over you feel it. No matter how conditioned you are it takes a toll on your lungs. Especially this 55 year set I have. 

I discovered I can sit and spin up the mountain at 4.5 mph or I can get off and push it at 3.3 mph. I'm not embarrassed to say I pushed it over the top.

It's not that you get out of breath, you just feel weak and wimpy. Now that I am again at sub 2000 ft I feel much stronger. I cranked out seven 100 plus days and still had some kick when I arrived in Omaha. 

I will assess the next move in Chicago and head for Boston or Key West Florida.