We have traveled 3,261miles; by my estimates we have 581 miles to go, more or less. We’re roughly 85% of the way to our Atlantic Coast destination. I think the braniacs at Kalshi are giving us pretty good odds to complete the journey (though there’s probably still some naysayers out there). We could still run into a strong nor’easter, get bit by a rabid moose, fall into the Erie Canal, bite into some bad lobster rolls… lots of things could happen. Put I think we’ve proven insufficient fitness and lacking mental fortitude are not big concerns.
As we awaited our Tim Horton’s coffee order at the Buffalo airport for our flight back to Chicago, I saw an advertisement for the Buffalo History Museum advertising “40 Years of The Goo Goo Dolls”… Seems like it was yesterday I was enjoying White Russians in the Janke’s dining room while on the 5th hour of the Goo Goo Dolls playlist. We’ve come a long way since then, let alone from the Pacific Ocean. Thankfully we’ve traveled enough and had enough go through my mind that I’ve forgotten what the Goo Goo Dolls sound like, but I can still imagine the scene at Janke or Balon households where the endless Goo Goo playlist drones on (I’m still not sure which of them was responsible for that, but Nancy proved herself innocent with soothing geezer grooves the following morning).
I expect when we complete our journey, I’ll write some reflections of what we’ve experienced, enjoyed, learned and loathed. So I won’t try preempt that now. But I’ll try to convey a few things that I meant to mention in previous posts, but mostly due to my drowsy late night mind fog, I missed them; and I’ll share a couple of observations during my 4 days off the road so far.
A few days ago I meant to convey my morning walk with my Chelsea bag to a nearby cornfield. This is something I realize not everyone could do, but I realized (partially due to my transformation into homeless appearance) many people in our world must have to do. I suppose there are many things like this that we take for granted in our civilized and soft surroundings, and we don’t often realize how good we have it. But for some reason on that day, this usually comical excursion for the proverbial “bear in the woods” activity (or cornfield in this instance), left me oddly thankful for life’s simple things.
I think I forgot to mention the other day… we enjoyed a few consecutive days of camping and ending the day “taking a Beiswanger”. The ultra thick bathing wipes that we were gifted in Bismarck have been very useful. I think Geeto nearly jettisoned his at one point to save the weight, but I think he’s been glad they survived the purge. It’s not anywhere close to having a warm water shower, but it’s a massive improvement over nothing. Though standing naked in a bathroom stall giving yourself a full body wipe down is also a difficult acclimation.
As I look back on our recent route… My initial planned route through Ontario had us traveling further north of Lake Erie on one stretch and passing through Hagerville. After Hager City Wisconsin, I would’ve enjoyed to compare and contrast with this sister city to the east. Likely Hagerville would’ve offered less pontoons and more poutineries; less Leinie’s and more LaBatt’s; but a shared ability to make really crappy wine. I had never heard of Hagerville ON before I saw it on the map while planning this trip; and an extra few miles to cruise through this namesake town seemed appropriate in the planning, but every mile counts in the short, sharp shock of the riding, so we opted for a route without the diversion north, and I may never see the statue I imagine in downtown Hagerville that bears a striking resemblance to the Gypsy.
It’s nice to be back in uplifting, challenging and loving conversation with my friend and wife. At dinner my first night home we talked about the growth this experience has brought; it challenges us to not be selfish, but also not completely selfless. This experience has been difficult on me mentally and physically, but equally it’s been hard on Christin emotionally. We had this experience 3 years ago when I kayaked the Mississippi; we thought this time would be easier, but it’s not. I’m so grateful for her allowing me this opportunity: she still offered to pick me up from the airport rather than changing the locks on the door while I was gone. She knows this is a great test for her to not be completely selfish, but there’s a right balance that I (and all of us) need to consider striking: we should be living for others, but that’s hard to do in absolute. But I think the old proverb rings true where relationships are strong: absence makes the heart grow fonder, and I’m glad to have a wonderful sabbatical homecoming.
It’s also nice to be at the house and do some chores. After a good meal, conversation and the final chore of the day, it’s easy to recognize that I have a blessed life. It’s an ordinary extraordinary existence where I’m loved and can love others with little pain and strife. Though I suppose this type of daily existence is a primary driver for me in taking on this cross-continent challenge.
To date we’ve had some great Harvest Host Experiences (this is an organization that organizations like Natterjack Brewery can join to offer their property to overnight visitors). I had planned on a few more Harvest Host stops in our final 9 days, but we’ve been denied by a winery, brewery and llama farm in Massachusetts that don’t seem to want us. Maybe the brewery and winery have read about my Chelsea bag wanderings. And I think the llama farm was afraid we’d act like Han Solo in the Empire Strikes Back or Hugh Glass in the Revenant if things turn to chilly at night.
While home last night we had a small family lasagna gathering; my mom even drove in from Hopedale IL where the progressive Mennonite mafia rule with open palms. I hadn’t seen my mom in a few months; she seemed healthier than our previous meeting; she works hard to hold back the wear and tear of nearly 80 years. She also looked younger with her new “Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas” inspired look. Though we all worried when she pronounced over the table, “demodex blephartis!” We glanced nervously at one another, we weren’t sure what effect this spell would have, or who it was aimed at; and when did my mom start to believe in Hogwart’s spells? Turns out she was starting to describe her condition of “excessive eye mites” for which the Mennonite doctors prescribed 2 ounces of eye drops at the low, low price of $2,700. We all moved a little further from her at the table, and the goodbye “hugs” were a little more conservative than usual. (See what I did there with the “” Lara? That’s to indicate that the “hugs” weren’t really hugs at all. That’s how you use those air quotes.)
Today, we drive up to Dork County for the Julia Lecy wedding affair. I look forward to having a White Russian with Mark Lecy in celebration of his daughter and Chase. I also anticipate several questions from friends about favorite stories from the road – I have a 4 hour drive and need to consider this, as I have been struggling in answering questions about “my single favorite memory”, or “biggest learning”, or “most spiritual experience”… Maybe the answer to some of those queries still remains in the final 9 days; I hope there are still Type 2 and 3 accounts ahead.
I have been grateful for the relatively glorious weather and comfortable accommodations. But some hardships in the final days might be good. There’s nothing like the rain to wash you clean, and to sleep in the cold and leave unseen. Geeto has said he’s actually enjoyed the camping, which was unexpected. Maybe we’ll get a chance for the New England version of a cow pasture camp on the Great Plains. I recall a few nights stealth camping on the Mississippi with a knife and steel pipe next to my sleeping bag for defense against lurking alligators on the sand bar… I strangely long for that Type 3 fun.
I’ve heard from a number of people first or second hand that they still enjoy the blog, even though I feel like it’s predominantly videos of us riding bikes. Christin reminded me of the feeling in running a marathon, around miles19-21 things get difficult, you get tired and bored and wonder, “why am I doing this?” But, you persevere, overcoming the doldrums and mental demons to achieve your goal. I’m already feeling rejuvenated and excited to finish. And as I write a few musings today, I’m excited for more posts before we start the journey back from Rhode Island. Mellow is the man who knows what he’s been missing; many, many men can’t see the open road.
I wanted to offer a few additions to the playlist as I enjoy some home time and think forward to the resumption of our journey.
As I boarded the plane in Buffalo, I was excited to be coming home, though I was just there 11 days before it seemed much longer. I suppose seeing a lot of friends through Michigan, all great people, both old friends and new, they’re not my most favorite people. As I waited on the curb at O’Hare for Christin’s arrival, I felt ready to Sing My Way Home.
As we considered the completion of this journey, at one point Geeto and I discussed the option to just stop in Buffalo, having gotten him back to his homeland from the west coast and covered nearly 3,300 on bicycle is quite an accomplishment. I don’t think that’s his plan now, and certainly it’s not mine. But, this is still a bit of a crossroads, the the more time spent in the comforts of family, friends and familiar walls creates an impedance to continuation. So, with that in mind: At the Crossroads.
Though I have listened to this song a few times in recent days… if I were married to a black blues singer and songwriter from Mississippi, I image he would belt this out to the universe as I prepare to head back out to the open road: Let My Baby Ride. Thankfully Christin is not from Mississippi, or a blues singer and songwriter. In a few days, my baby is going to again let her bay ride.
I expect I’ll post one more time before we launch out again on our trusty steeds. Until then, thanks for staying tuned.
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