Tomorrow is one week out. Since roughly January, almost eight months ago, we have been planning on a ride from Seattle to LA. Aptly dubbed Epic Ride, it was my original intention to do the 1,600 miles in the reverse direction of the route I rode first in 1993 and then again in ’96. Both of those trips went South to North, or as Bob Seger sang, Against the Wind. Although, when pressed to comment on the primary direction of this invisible speed deterrent - usually while sitting around a camp-fire after a days ride - I would spill the beans of truth and admit that if one breaks camp at first light, gets in the days mileage by mid afternoon and then makes camp further North, as the wind increases volume in the later afternoon, who cares? Let ‘er rip. And this is traditionally, usually, is exactly the way it plays. Wind comes up in late afternoon when we have already logged 60, 70 or 80 miles and established the base camp du jour.
Another benefit of early start is the propensity of RVers to sleep in. They can snore all they want as we hammer up shoulder-less stretches of road never designed for recreational multi-uses. I can tell you that there have been close calls. But these are the chances we take when we ride.
The adventure and allure of self-contained bicycle touring was one of the many topics discussed during yesterday’s drive and ride (90/34/90). There is a lot more than the obvious physical demand. One has the rare opportunity to reflect, to witness and to explore. What is contemporarily called experience. Being ‘out there’ has other values and I believe the biggest to be an opportunity to consider, on the fly, the majesty of our world and the freedoms we sometimes take for granted. Moment by moment, one pedal rotation at a time, with the wind at our backs or in our face, we move gracefully and with honest intention towards the destination of now. We don’t ride from Seattle to LA, we ride from here to now. The goal is the road. The time is always now. We tune to the frequency of the universe as gulls try their best to warn us of dangerous thermals or inattentive rogue waves. Every cow that looks up from chewing a thorny cud, separated from us by barbs of stoic wire, knows our minds and winks a supportive namaste. I salute the spirit inside you. The twisting, bending, relentless flow of graceful natural movement blends together with the empty cups and open hearts of the intrepid two-wheeled pilgrim as she dances through the cosmos, smiling, waving, being.
This isn’t a romantic vision of utopia. It is hard work, sweaty, disciplined and carries a high degree of uncertainty. Butts get sore and necks overworked until the magical process of adaptation provides the additional strength necessary to endure. We live to ride another day. One rides one’s way to optimal fitness, one grows stronger with each passing mile, in obvious or nuanced fashion. It is a retreat from the normalcy of life, where banal habits, most of them bad, are set aside like the toys with which we once played and no longer require. We don’t sit in front of the computer monitor, the TV or the mobile device for way too many unproductive hours each day, we don’t run to the comfort foods or liquid sedatives that ease the psychic stress of living inside the chaos-filled reality show of America. There are no talking heads reminding us of who and what to hate.
I like being out there. It is risky, not so much in the sense that I might get mugged by a raging meth-head, or side-swiped by a 34 foot diesel pusher, but because it is so far outside and away from my comfort zone. I like the challenge and I like the taste of unfiltered energy. I am trading the safety and security of my normal existence for a once in a lifetime experience. That comes with risk, and where guarantees are few. One day I will settle into the rocking chair on the deck, cat napping in my lap. But today is not that day.
We started this crazy plan with the hope that several like-minded adventurers would join us. Over time the reality of dropping all ‘normal’ responsibilities; jobs, families, home maintenance, golf, pet care and all the other comforts and conveniences of home whittled the participant number to its current total: One.
A number with which I have no problems.
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