Life Spoke

It's taken me a while to sit down and write. As for riding, this will be the last entry. I'll keep updating until I get home to Oregon, to Tracey. When I finally see Tracey again the trip will be over. It's been over two months since we've seen each other - too long.

The last few weeks have been disorienting. I've been surrounded by family and friends, staying up past dark, getting up a little later in the morning. I'm indoors more than outdoors and I've only felt the wind on my face a few times. With only a few hours by myself, solitary contemplation has been fleeting. I want to write all the time, but I don't want to be anti-social. Ideas clogging my thoughts, I find myself staring at things when people are talking to me. I hope it doesn't seem too odd, but I fear it does. A slow transition back to 'normal'.

I'm still holding onto it, to the dream of traveling and writing and giving back to society in this way. I love this process - go somewhere new and capture it in words, from the perspective of virgin eyes. I hope I have done this well at times but there were so many things I saw that I couldn't harness. We can only do our best and that's all. Besides, I was riding a bike many dozens of miles each day, to write everything would have slowed me considerably.

I've learned so much. About this country, about giving, about faith, trust, support...about me. Riding out of Colorado I thought almost constantly about what to do with my life. I gained so much perspective through being with friends. Seeing the way they live their lives; the roads they have taken, the professional paths they are choosing. "What am I really destined to do? What do I really want to do with this life?" It's not cut and dried like it used to be - you went to college to be a doctor and you were a doctor. You went to trade school to be an electrician or mason and you worked. A farmer, a mechanic, engineer, lawyer, businessman. Most people chose a track and the train rolled through to retirement. Young people in my generation have been encouraged to 'find a job that makes them happy'...but the options are overwhelming and college life can be numbing.

I flipped the coin of engineering and writing so many times I got sick of the question. Many of you have encouraged me to keep writing and I'm seriously considering it. I can't help but wonder if the reading is better because of the context, not the writer. I try to muffle that negativity but it lingers.

Anyway, that's where I'm at. Stuck in limbo on the career question and still a few days away from seeing Tracey. I'm very much looking forward to getting home, to letting my guard down. So much shuffling over the past months, I want to set the cards down at home. Go to work, see friends, put my life back in motion. Breathe.
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Finished the ride last Saturday - the last push. Met up with eight friends and family and we rode down to the beach. It was the first time I'd ridden with a big group and it was fun. Chatting, joking, laughing. Only 21 miles from Freehold to the beach and my ankle felt fine while I was on the bike.

We rolled onto the road that parallels the inlet and the sun was high and bright. Riding in a group buoyed me above the depths of my mental space. I was grasping to gain context on what was happening - the ride of a lifetime was coming to a close and I hadn't assessed how I was feeling about it. My emotions were bland, un-aroused. The pace was leisurely and the weather so soft that there was no edge. I had expected to be dogged tired, tough and road weary. I was anything but tired and road weary.

We took some photos at the pavilion on the end of the boardwalk, and then I hefted the bike out onto the sand. I pushed the bike down into the water. The knee-high breakers collapsed and rolled up the sand, swirling around my ankles as my feet sunk. The ocean was beautiful. The crowd on the beach was cheering.

Two bottles, one with Grandma's ashes, one with Pacific Ocean water. The ashes flew in the breeze and the water splashed as the two oceans met. I tasted the last drop of water out of the bottle, cold and salty.

I assembled my group of riders and we took photos. Hugs and handshakes, congratulations and smiles.

I have to apologize to those that were there. I was uncharacteristically somber; you all deserved the crazy explosive madman. But what you got was a contemplative person wondering if I deserved all this. I hadn't ridden the whole way, I wasn't really ready to be done. The word 'finished' kept flying around but I was stuck figuring out what that word really meant. It was hard for me to say that without wanting to footnote it - I hadn't finished in the style I set out with.

Over to Leggett's Bar for lunch. It was weird to be insulated by so many loving friends and family after the ceremony on the beach. No time to think, my brain was overloaded. I wish I had been able to address the crowd with a few words of gratitude for their support and donations. Usually I can pull something out to deliver, but I was completely at a loss for summarizing this day. My thoughts were running around unsupervised and I couldn't collect very many.

It was a really nice time. Drinking beer and eating home food. The jovial atmosphere was infectious and I was calmly happy to share in the spirit.

After lunch my Achilles started hurting. We had ridden only 21 miles, but that was enough. The lump at the back of my heel came back and the sore squeakiness crept back in. I welcomed the pain as a sign that I had made the right decision not to continue riding from Chicago. I would have had to ride over 1000 more miles...that would have been ridiculous. After days and days of rest a short ride had inflamed the tendonitis. Confirmation.

The pain was a sign that I had actually completed the ride. I slowly gained satisfaction that I had done everything in my power to ride across the United States. This injury was out of my control. "Worrying is like rocking in a chair, it gives you something to do but the effort gets you nowhere." (a quote from Chris Guinta)

Tuesday I went up to New York City. I had lunch with Mike and Kirk, coworkers from the EPA. We went up to my old office on the 25th floor. It felt like home - I had spent thousands of hours up there sharing teamwork with a dynamic, energetic group of comrades. We went out after they were done working and talked for hours, catching up on the years gone by.

Wednesday morning I went to the Freehold Intermediate School. I spoke to two classes about my trip. They had been following my progress and using it as an example for class work. The kids were great, they had thoughtful questions and innocent questions. I explained to them about my writing process and how I take notes, how I remember what to say when I finally sit down as I am now. I think they took something away from what I said and I hope it helped them put in context how rewarding it is to continue learning throughout life.

Wednesday night I went to a Boy Scout meeting - my old Troop 155. I spoke to them about the importance of planning things out, researching and mentally preparing yourself for challenges. I encouraged them to go on a solo mission of their own one day, but not until they are much older - people will take advantage of a well intentioned young person faster than they can blink. I also wanted to let them know that Boy Scouts had laid the foundation for all my outdoor sports and that being an Eagle Scout has helped me in life immeasurably.
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This is a long entry, but I'm going to recap my progress from Chicago to Jersey as well:

Monday 10/30:
We drove south to Kankakee, IL and had lunch at a diner. The wind was blasting out of the south as my mom dropped me off east of Momence, IL. I rode across the gusty wind into Indiana on Hwy 114. It was strange, but there was no sign to mark the entrance into Indiana.

We drove for hours and miles through Indiana farm country on Hwy 10. The land was flat with the occasional low rolling hills. The roads were narrow but the traffic was light. We came into Warsaw and called around for campgrounds. All the ones listed in the phone book were closed for the season so we opted for a motel in North Webster. We cooked sausages and rice right outside the motel room, the owner came by and didn't have a thing to say about it.

Tuesday, 10/31:
East on Hwy 8 through quaint farming towns. Rolling hills brought us to the Ohio border. I got out in Newville and suited up. A stout tailwind blew me toward Ohio and I had fun going 25 miles per hour with little effort. We met up in Hicksville, OH where we took this photo.

On the edge of town I explained the grain elevators and the co-op system to my mom. Trailer loads of grain pull up to the office and onto the scale. A dipper goes into the load and pulls out a few samples of grain which are assayed. The truck then goes over to an enclosed bay next to the huge silos where an operator opens the valve and the grain flows onto the floor, through the grates and is conveyed up into the silos. Based on the quality of the grain assayed and the tonnage, the farmer gets a receipt for his crop. We watched a half dozen trucks pull up and make deliveries. It was fascinating to watch.

East on Hwy 18 into the cute old town of Defiance. East on Hwy 281 through flat open farming country. It was very similar to central Nebraska. At Bradner we got onto US 6 and took it into Fremont. Behind a supermarket, beside the Sandusky River we make a pot of soup and ate good rye bread. It was getting late in the day and the sky was threatening rain as were the meteorologists.

East on US 20 around Norwalk and up to I-80. Our plan was to be just west of Pennsylvania that night. We took the interstate to make up time; it was raining and dreary out. I-80 east to I-271 north around Cleveland then I-90 east to Painesville. We found a flee-bag motel on the edge of town - neither of us was excited about camping in the rain.

It was Halloween and the young people staying in the room next to ours were dressed up and ready to go out. They marveled at the camping stove and the sautéed shrimp and tilapia I was cooking with it. Dinner was fabulous with a side of quinoa (South American super grain).

Wednesday, 11/1:
East on US 20 to Geneva. Here we went north to Geneva-on-the-Lake, which reminded us both of a Jersey Shore resort town like Seaside or Point Pleasant. At the City Park we saw the lake. The wind off of Lake Erie was sending small waves onto the beach. The air was fresh and smelled like the distant, mild ocean air when you're a few miles away from the Atlantic. Hard to place.

There are no tides on the Lake, but the small waves made us both feel as if we were on the beach of some estuarine bay near the ocean. It was pleasant.

East on Hwy 20 to Kingsville, then south to Hwy 84 east. Just outside of Bushnell I suited up again and rode into Pennsylvania just west of Tracy, PA. It was a beautiful day, cool but not cold, sunny but not glaring. I got into the car at the junction of Hwy 226 and US 6N.

Within a few miles we drove into the hills. Into the Allegany National Forest near Warren, PA. It was beautiful. If we'd been there a few weeks earlier the leaves would have been explosively painted. What we saw were the late fall browns and rusty reds with the odd pillar of orange in the distance. The hardwood forests were nice to see, as I'd spent my boyhood hiking through such land.

As dusk was beginning to dim the view we found a campsite east of Roulette. The tent went up, the stove came on and soon we were grilling steaks on a propane grill. We finished dinner and I started to build a fire when the first drops fell. The forecast had deceived us by calling for clouds only.

We huddled under the open door at the back of the car, watching the fire. The rain gathered speed and was soon dumping buckets on us. Luckily the big tent my mom had brought was battle tested in the wet spring of the Maine woods.

Thursday, 11/2:
It was sunny when we awoke. We were dry and not too chilly. We packed slowly but were on the road early. This Highway 6, The Grand Army of the Republic Highway was my intended route through Pennsylvania. It would have been a fine road to ride on. The shoulders were wide and the uphill climbs would have rewarded me with roller coaster downhill drops.

Just west of Wellsboro we turned off to see the Grand Canyon of Pennsylvania. A paved single-lane road brought us up to the trailhead. We walked a half mile and the ground fell away down to the river below. It was beautiful and I can only imagine how intense it would have been with trees wearing their fall coats of color.

Back at the trail head I put on my cycling clothes and pushed off. Over three miles of downhill riding I hit a top speed of the 38 mph, laying the bike into the curves with an ear toward oncoming traffic - I saw no other cars. At the bottom I got back in and we headed east again.

The towns along Hwy 6 define the word quaint. Square old stone buildings along the rivers. Narrow streets that wind along following the contour of the valley. Then out of town through unpopulated timber and the occasional farm where the valley floor opens up wide.

We saw a sign for Keystone College and it rang a bell. We drove into Factoryville and I turned off at a sign for the school. Yes, we had been here before. My mom and I drove here when I was in high school, looking for a college to attend. We remembered the store where ten years ago we saw several pickup trucks with big dead bloody bucks stretched across their hoods. It was opening day and the good ol' boys were outside the store drinking beers with thoughts of backstrap and venison burgers. How coincidental to be driving through, together, at the same time of year!

East through Scranton, then south to I-80, east again to Hwy 33, south to Easton, PA. We drove up the hill in Easton to Lafayette College, Tracey's alma mater. Some photos then I flew down the hill and into town, around the big circle and east toward Phillipsburg. I crossed into New Jersey at the local bridge between the two towns. Huge signs told me to walk my bike, so that climax was deflated.

Back in Jersey. I-78 east to I-287 south into New Brunswick onto Rt. 18. South to Freehold and we were home by 6pm. No need to take the back roads in Jersey, I'd seen almost the whole state as a kid and young adult.

Friday I bought a pair of normal shoes and walked around the yard. Saturday we rode to Manasquan.

I'll send a note to let you know how my trip back home goes. Thanks to everyone!
-Andrew