1/19/17 - Stoneham, MA - Home Again

Vin’s odometer ticked passed 200,000 miles on our way to the airport but his sleep-filled eyes didn’t notice.  Barely 3:30am.  I was too focused on directing my sleepy chaufer.  This trip became much more than a cross-country bicycle journey – that ended 4 months ago.  

The timeline in my head is a knotted ball of yarn, my most recent memories involve ropes and rocks in the strange stretch of land known as Joshua Tree.  

But, I can still listen to certain songs, close my eyes, and be transported back to the plains of South Dakota, riding along the Columbia River in Oregon or winding through the Redwoods of California.  

Countless moments of solitude from the seat of my bike, so many miles of scenery fly through my mind like a bright red ribbon over my eyes and suddenly I’m home like it never happened, like a compelling dream that stays with you for the rest of your life.  I intentionally put the pen down a couple days into my month-long stint in J-Tree, I knew it would be a blur no matter how hard I tried to hold onto details.  

It’s a fuzzy memory, unlike anything I saw in the landscape – ok, all the mice and rabbits and coyotes are pretty fuzzy.  All the plants are rigid and defensive, a harsh place to grow.  

Even the rocks are anything but smooth, they’ve taken their fair share of skin and blood from me and many others.  I like to think we’ve all given our blood and our skin, a gesture of respect.  

There’s something compelling about that place, it takes hold of many people and beckons their return year after year, the dirtbags who live out of their cars and survive off rocks and adrenaline and meals crafted in communal dutch ovens by campfire coals.  

I’ve never seen so many people so stoked on nature.  I’ve never spent so many days in a row sleeping without a roof overhead.  The night sky became my ceiling and shooting stars were the sheep I was counting.  

To wake up outside, ready to watch the sunrise is a special thing, even when a layer of frost covered my sleeping bag.  

The sun would be up soon enough to dry it all out, to heat up the rocks for us to climb.  Everyday, we had to opportunity to defy death, to trust science and each other’s ability to implement science to get our Earthbound asses up on top of some rocks, screaming and swearing at times when we were giving all we had and sometimes a little more.  

I never thought I’d be a rock climber but damn, that’s some good adrenaline.  I’ve felt small many may times over the course of 7 months but, how humbling it is knowing a wrong move, some man-made error on a sheer rock wall can send you to your death.  

I’ve thought about death a good deal and even though I have a lot of trust in myself and my friends at the end of the rope, I never felt closer to death than my month in Joshua Tree.  

It’s something we can’t avoid, we might as well get used to it.  It still blows my mind all the things I’ve seen and done and the people I’ve met...here I am at home with a roof over my head and all the people I’ve shared my life with except the last 7 months.  

I want them all to know and understand what went on and how I feel but damn, no words or drawings or photos will ever make anyone understand.  This whole ‘life’ thing is intensely personal but, we’re all trying to make at least one other person know what life is like in our own skull.

Day 76 - 12/7/16 - Dana Point to Los Feliz, CA

I don’t know if Los Feliz is the actual town or if it’s just some sub-category of Los Angeles; whatever, this is where I am.  I’m staying with more people I know through the internet.  Hallie and Jack, they don’t live together but, they’re both here right now, a couple artists that work at their craft a lot more consistently than me.  It’s nice to be around people that dedicate so much of their time to creating, a nice change of pace from the people that spend all their time riding bikes although, I have yet to get sick of those people yet.  I met another one today on the train from Long Beach to Los Feliz.  

James got hit by a car this morning somewhere in LA, nothing too serious, his ankle was sore, he said. A guy that saw it happen owns a bike shop and gave his bike a complete overhaul, took it apart, tuned it up, cleaned everything and gave it back to him as a new bike, pretty much.  We talked about our gear, our trips, (he’s been riding East to West from Florida) he told me about one of his bags getting robbed from him at gun point, al his money and credit cars.  I gave him some food and some money before we parted ways, I would’ve wanted someone to take pity on me too.  

I’ve had worse mornings but, it was a complete shock to be kicked out of McDonalds.  I’m 90% sure it was because I looked like a homeless guy who was loitering outside earlier but, at the same time, could we have really looked that much alike?  Or did she just assume I’d be hanging out all morning after ordering only a small orange juice?  Who knows, it shouldn’t bother me, McDonald’s is garbage anyways.  But, here I am after a fast and beautiful bike ride back North along the beach, listening to Vince Guaraldi in Hallie’s living room with her roommate, Alice, and Jack.  Plants are everywhere, Alice makes floral arrangements.  Plants make you feel not so alone.  I remember the one pot of English Ivy I had on my shelf under my lofted bed in my room in Peabody; that seems like a lifetime ago, 10,000 miles away.  

Hallie and I took Ozzy (dog) for a walk when I first showed up.  We talked of her’s and her mother’s book in-progress that deals with the reality of a parents death, how do you deal with that?  What are the objective and subjective steps to navigate through this inevitable part of life?  I think my mom needs to read it, if only it was ready.  She asked me all the questions everyone asks me about my trip (and she knew it, too but, I never mind talking about it!).  She also asked me other questions that no one else really asks like, what have you learned about yourself?  I explained my sincere trust in the universe but, failed to elaborate on much else.  “If you could ride your bike next to yourself you’d know everything,” my friend Matt said this to my friend Colin.  What a thought, what an image.  What is there to know?  Must I know what there is to know before I can know?  Maybe it’s one of those things you can’t really put into words, maybe not as gracefully until you’re older, maybe what you know about yourself can only be illustrated through examples, through stories where your character is tested.  

I was made at the woman in McDonalds this morning, mad that she couldn’t give me an answer for why she was kicking me out, who complained and what did they say.  Everyone has a right to refuse someone something.  Everyone has a right to stand up to their rights but, was I going to do that for orange juice that I didn’t even want?  I was just trying to be nice while I used the bathroom to change and fill up my water bottles.  She hurt my ego, judged me on my appearance and it hurt me, bothered me to know someone can look less presentable and be denied orange juice.  I might be misunderstood who I was, what I was doing.  I wanted to yell, my blood pressure went up but, life went on and I’m here amongst friends now, everything is perfect, I feel good and happy, I’m warm and fed.  Every thing has its resolve, life will go on.  And then one day it won’t so why even get upset?  Choose your battles, the orange juice at McDonalds is pretty shitty anyways.

Day 68 - 11/29/16 - Newport Beach to Oceanside, CA

It was a real light breakfast today, coffee and seawater.  I usually like a little more sustenance but, Quintin was driving the ship and he likes an early start.  I guess I’m lucky I got coffee.  The ride to the beach wasn’t more than 10 minutes.  The sun was shining and the wind was blowing in a way that made Quintin incredibly excited.  “When the wind is blowing out to sea the waves maintain a nicer form before they break.”  I’m learning.  He gave me all sorts of other advice for I failed to remember in the hour or so of me getting my ass kicked while Quintin did what all surfers do and made it look easy.  A couple times I stood up but, certainly didn’t get very far.  I still had fun.  

On the way back, Quintin told me more about his European bike tour back in the 90’s, about the South Africans that taught him how to beat the visa system and find work to stay as long as possible under the radar.  The way he spoke about his life on the road, I could feel the sincere jealousy and happiness he had for me and my open-ended trip.  Though he’d rather be less tied down, he’s genuinely happy he made the choice to play first and work later.  As a person that is playing now with no real regard for the future, I like this way of living too.  Leaving Quintin’s on my bike, I could feel the hour of surfing on my arms and stomach.  

My arms aren’t used to doing much these days, certainly not paddling.  And my stomach just took some hard smacks from the waves against the board.  It sure was a beautiful day though.  I didn’t have a place in mind to stay so I made it easy on myself and got a motel in Oceanside, my first motel going down the Pacific Coast, not too bad for nearly 70 days on the road.  I felt like treating myself.  Just a block from the beach I made my way down to the pier to watch the sunset after I checked in around 4:00pm.  

There’s something about dusk and dawn, those transitional points between day and night, night and day.  It’s important to be present, it’s easy to get distracted and come back to the moment and to wonder where the day went, how did night fall so fast?

Day 67 - 11/28/16 - Long Beach to Newport Beach, CA

I had to go to the post office before leaving Long Beach, I’ve been meaning to shed some weight.  I sent the last two rocks home to Ava, Oregon and California, as well as my Holey Toledough T-shirt.  I also sent home my hammock and big, heavy U-lock, probably 5 pounds of combined weight off my bike.  But, I also had to send home the print Catherine gave me.  A while ago she did a painting of a banana penetrating a glazed donut, two very important things in my life just getting it on.  

She made an edition of prints of the sexy food scene and she was kind enough to give me one.  If I could’ve framed and displayed it on my bike I would’ve but, I’ll see it again when I get home, I’m sure my family will get a kick out of it.  The post office was quite busy, this is a busy time of year for them, the holidays.  I like that though, I like seeing the post office utilized, I like seeing people send Christmas cheer.  This post office was a bit odd, the tellers were behind an inch of glass, bullet proof, I assume.  It kind of took away from the experience of interaction, I don’t know.  Oh well.  

Outside, a homeless woman pushing a cart asked about my bike, asked if I had a pump.  I did, she had a flat tire.  I pumped it back up for her, the air stayed and her day got a little better.  She muttered something about not having eaten in a couple days so I gave her an orange and a bag of crackers and some granola bars and she was off.  I was happy to do it.  I didn’t need all that food anyway, I have places to stay for the next few days or so.  

I left the city by late morning, rode on the paved path right along the beach, the somewhat standard scenario for everyday now.  I’ve seen quite a few piers by this point but, I was still excited to see Huntington Beach Pier in person.  I’ve seen so many photos of that place from Ed and Deanna Templeton.  I wish I could’ve stumbled upon them there but, they were in Japan.  

The pier was a lot quieter than I’d ever seen it in Ed’s photos but, it was a cold, gray, windy day in November.  I watched the sun set and admired the residual glow like an ember in the lower half of the sky before I continued the rest of the way to Quintin’s house, another dood I met through Warm Showers.  I had dinner with him and his two boys, Caden and Chase, 14 and 11 I believe.  A fire crackled in the fireplace.  

The four of us, plus Moby, the dog and Cat, the cat watched Superman after dinner.  I almost fell asleep on the couch, I took the opportunity to go to bed when the kids did. 

Day 65 - 11/26/16 Leo Carillo SP to Long Beach, CA

I’d never met Catherine before.  I didn’t even know what she looked like, I had only ever seen her paintings through the screen of my phone.  On my way to her place I wondered how I even started following her on Instagram.  The morning at Leo Carillo State Park was just beautiful.  The Hiker.Biker campsite was tucked in a grove under massive, thick, meandering branches reaching in all directions, partly bleached by the sun, or maybe that’s the way they are.  

I knew rain was in the forecast, sometime in the early afternoon, so I was up with the sun.  I ate my oats and drank my coffee quickly in the cold and was on the road by 8:00.  Getting out of the grove and into the sun was thrilling, I was motivated to beat the rain but, I couldn’t escape it.  The first half of the ride was sunny and dry as I rolled over the seaside hills through Malibu and into Santa Monica.  The bike path winds you through the hot, tan sands, past the lifeguard huts in their soft sea foam shades of blue and all the vacant volley ball nets, at is Fall after all.  

I had to stop at REI in Santa Monica but it was nice to stop and see the pier and some of the trippy sidewalks with curved bricks that wiggled in your eyes as you roll over them.  But just outside of Santa Monica is where the rain found me.  Right on the beach.  I don’t know if anyone believed the forecast or paid attention to it because all the other cyclists and beachgoers seemed rather surprised by the sudden shower.  

The next 30 miles were a wet blur, a mad dash to get to Catherine’s in Long Beach.  It’s not so fun to stop riding in the rain when you’re already soaked through, I get real cold real quick.  It’s best to keep moving, and so I did.  As it sometimes happens, the sun came out from behind the veil of clouds just as I got to Catherine’s, what else can you do but laugh?  

Her apartment was set up like any good artist’s living arrangement: lots of art on the walls, lots of art on the floor leaning against the walls, paintings I had only seen from my phone screen, massive in person, and lots of art supplies shoved in corners that would be something at some point.  I went and showered and she went to work making a vegetable stew.  We shot the shit for a long time with some Christmas music in the background.  

It was nice to hear someone talk about art and making art.  That’s her full-time gig and it makes sense because she’s so damn talented.  There’s a box of Dunkin Donuts on her table.  I laughed when I saw them but, she assured me they’re just her models.  She knows what a good donut should taste like.

Day 58 - 11/19/16 - Andrew Molera State SP to Kirk Creek SP, CA

I forgot how much I enjoy my alone time in the morning and in the evening.  I’ve been in my tent for the last couple hours even though it’s only 6:00pm.  It’s been drizzling on and off since the early afternoon so I actually made an early dinner right in here.  The idea off writing more consistently brightens me up; the activity has become my rock, my way of staying grounded.  Even though I can’t post everything I write everyday for folks to check in on me, I still feel like I’m talking to everyone when my pen hits the page.  

With less than a week til Thanksgiving, thoughts of family and friends are at the forefront of my mind.  I’ve never been away from home so long, almost 6 months, and I’ve never spent the holiday season away from home.  It will be good for me, changing things up is good for everyone, that’s how we learn things about ourselves.  What do I now know about myself that I did not know before?  I guess that I can survive without a shower for a couple weeks.  I’m strong, physically and mentally, I’ll take a small town or a city any day and a secluded campground over a small town.

I can control my life by the way I look at it.  I’m full of love for all things in the universe.  I think I’ll really see some personal growth once I go back home, a changed person in a familiar situation.  Big Sur has a presence like some sort of sleeping giant laying across 70 miles of sea, cars and bikes riding up and down its spiny back, another place in nature people go to feel small, to connect with something so powerful...I had a headache this morning, the worst one I’ve had in a while.  I woke up with it around 1:00am, I thought maybe the mushrooms dehydrated me so I slugged some water but, the damn pain was with me all day, I almost didn’t want to ride for fear I wouldn’t enjoy the scenery.  

But I made it the 35 miles, head pounding most of the day, and it did not interfere once.  I had to tell myself to get over it, to remind myself how many people on Earth are in worse pain than me.  And probably none of those people are here in one of the most beautiful stretches of road here on Earth.  Everything is perfect, me by myself, the rain, Beethoven playing softly from the speaker next to my knee, my luxury-coffin-sized tent, the waves less than 100 feet away.  I may feel lonely at times but, none of us are ever by ourselves.

Days 53 - 56 11/15 - 11/18 - Fremont to Andrew Molera State Park, Big Sur, CA

I don’t mean to take the people I meet for granted but, it seems like meeting people and saying goodbye very quickly is the way of the road.  Oliver, Helena, Will and Kat have been my cycling family for the last 3 days and they are already gone. 

I liked them all a lot and I feel kind of selfish for staying behind while they all went on but, I think being selfish at the right time is part of the road too; everyone has to ride their own ride.  Helena and I were the 2 Americans that are still touring from our cross-country journeys. 

Oliver, Will and Kat are all from the UK but, Oliver has been traveling alone around California for a little bit now.  Will and Kat haven’t been back to London for over 2 years now.  While we all rode at our own paces, we ended up at the same campsite at the close of each day and seemed to get along like we’d known each other for a long time.

Days 49-53 - 11/11/16-11/15/16 - Time Off in Oakland/Fremont

The continuation of my exploration of the bay area led me to Oakland, a 60 mile ride from Vacaville.  I was headed to visit a friend, Dalton but, stopped for a night in Oakland to stay with Mari and Nikko from Warm Showers.  I got to their place just after dark as I finished a half-loop around Lake Merritt in the middle of the city.  Mari made an incredible pot full of rice and veggies, then we had a spliff for dessert. 

In the morning, we made pancakes with an excessive amount of toppings: apples, bananas, plum jam, chia seeds, granola, pomegranate and real maple syrup.  And a spliff for dessert.  I had planned on riding the 30 miles to Fremont where Dalton lives but, he took his bike on the train and met me in the city.  I rode uptown to get donuts and back to the lake in the time it took him to get there.  We rode around the city into the night, got some dinner, got some coffee and then took the train back. 

I had to carry my loaded bike up and down too many stairs on the subway but, we eventually made it back to Dalton’s place.  Him and 2 other doods live in a warehouse that Dalton dressed up to make liveable.  He put up some walls and made a loft and hung a bunch of art and it makes for a beautiful space to live.  On Saturday we got into some psychedelics and took the train back into the city.  We circled the lake, following the strings of lights that added a warm glow to the sidewalk and a geometric pattern to the fluid water that would ripple and distort any time the wind blew or a duck went swimming past. 

We made a massive loop around Oakland, passing by political protests and the swarms of police that would attempt to control the crowd later, ended up at a bar where some other friends met and shared the sacred hours that make up Saturday night. 

After leaving Dalton’s, I knew it was going to be another couple of weeks before getting off the bike again.  I knew I would be crossing over into the area they call, “Southern California” and I was so stoked about that.

Days 36-49 - 10/27/16-11/10/16 - Time Off in Vacaville, CA

Is it even considered a bike tour if I spend as much time off the road as I do on the road?  Life sure has been different since I started heading south compared to my 3 months of riding west.  Feel free to call my journey whatever you want, I’m into the phrase, “Exceptional Bumming”.  Labels are silly anyways.  I spent this time with one of my best friends from home, Adrian and his lovely girlfriend, Cierra and their 2 crazy pups, Jackie and Lulu. 

 

A lot changed in the time I wasn’t riding: the transition into holiday season, we set the clocks back, a terrible human being became the president, and weed became legal in California AND Massachusetts.  The world was not the same place when I finally got back on my bike but, can the world really be the same from one minute to the next?  No, not even one second to the next.  What a trip it was to ride over the Golden Gate Bridge to see Adrian waiting for me.  I had spoken to him that morning from Olema and then proceeded to ride 35 miles down the coast and over a mountain in the cool, gray haze. 

 

The weather told me it would rain that day but, I somehow managed to make it all the way over the bridge before any drops fell, I’ve been a lucky boy out here.  Just over a year ago, two friends and I flew out to visit Adrian; at that point, it had been a couple of years since I saw him last and probably too long since I had spoke to him over the phone.  I’m bad at keeping in touch but, I’m trying to be better. 

 

The last time I saw Adrian was last winter when he came back to Massachusetts for a week around Christmas time.  What a strange thing to only see someone a small percentage of the last 5 years and still remain such good friends.  It’s crazy to think of all the time and all the places we spend and visit in a lifetime and there are people out there, carrying out their own adventures in remote places and when you get together, it’s like encountering a part of yourself in some shared history with another person. 

Even though Adrian and Cierra had their jobs to tend to, the 3 of us still got to spend some time together, cooking, going out to eat, and watching movies.  I even took Adrian out for a 35 mile bike ride, his longest ride ever and he didn’t even hate me by the end of it.  We have a good streak going in terms of visiting each other. 

 

I hope it continues and I hope one day we live less than 3,000 miles away from each other again.