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day 104

Sun, 22 Jun 2008 09:23:47 -0400

miles - 48.40
hours - 3:47.33
average speed - 12.7

my eastern terminus has been reached. from this day forward, leaving the cedar sided shipyards of thomaston, maine, i begin riding the road west, a blurred vision of oregon weeping rain in the distant space of my mind. the air is cool but not cold, the sky grey but not ominous, and i ride vaguely familiar roads, last traced years earlier in the rushed darkness of funeral procession rumination.
the lupine’s bloom is nearly audible, a silent chorus of cream and clover played out in perfect notes of summer sleigh-bells.
just before augusta, i pass the old ice cream stand we used to visit as children, the grass and the weeds overtaking the unused building, hiding the wood but not the memories of bubble gum scoops and sugar cone car rides - appeased children sleeping on mattresses in the back of white-capped black pick-up trucks.
reaching the rotary, i mistakenly turn east on 202, unaccustomed to traveling west after three months of single minded determination.
the rains begin as i leave the city, intermittent drops leading to heavy downpours, the first i’ve felt in months since setting out on the grey coast of oregon in march.
and so it’s as if these first days of coastal city departure are like two facing mirrors. a continent of experience between, hidden in the invisible reflection bouncing infinitely between.
my ride has become just that - an indiscernible manifestation of destiny, sending a slow silent ripple towards the banks of this receptive placid body.

thomaston

Sat, 21 Jun 2008 08:47:35 -0400

history is often created in unexpected ways. relationships form on ski slopes and construction sites, where idealistic young couples gravitate towards each other by common bonds, beginning a connection that transcends place and time, extending to sons whose childish differences evaporate in a single moment of inherent trust.
it’s fascinating to trace back through the web of friendships made and lost, each relationship an extension of a previous one which either perseveres or is discarded - it’s purpose served, it’s role fulfilled.
our beginnings can be marked. a specific date which we, as individuals, enter the world. but the instruments which forged our existence occupy an unfixed point on a continuum - choices, decisions, opportunities, and mistakes build the framework for which our lives are based. and with each step forward we take, we add another layer to the skin which contains our personal worlds - an amorphous shape which stretches forgivingly with each expanding breath of air.
it’s not difficult to reach back with our mind’s eye and follow the train which led to this present station. it;s easy to appreciate, in retrospect, the people who have influenced us positively and made our lives shine a little brighter by their own luminescence. when we do this, when we can qualify a friendship as valuable - important in our past, and important in our future - then we must work to make it a fixture, however intangible, in our never-ending present.

day 102

Fri, 20 Jun 2008 07:44:23 -0400

miles - 63.46
hours - 4:21. 57
average speed - 14.5

the damp morning at winslow state park breathes slowly, the foliage and the flowers rising and falling with each humid sigh. with my gear packed and my teeth brushed, i prepare to leave before being engaged in conversation with my neighbor of the previous night, an affable native mainer named biz, who spends his summers at the park with his wife nancy, graced by the occasional visit from successive generations of family.
biz is a self described talker, a man who unfailingly keeps a natural and eased conversation going, punctuating pauses with personal reflections like “dyno-mite” and “yabadaba-doo.” he says these things to himself, perhaps unaware that they’re audible, but with an endearing magnetism, and you can see his mind working - going back to some previous thought or comment, and buffing it with the shine of idiosyncratic charm.
i enjoy coffee and cold cereal with biz and nancy, trading stories like bartering merchants - each of us gaining a wealth of pleasure from the two hour interaction.
with only 70 miles remaining on my final trek eastward, i am relaxed and at ease, allowing time to tick away unmonitored by my traveler’s eye, each hour free, judged by the pleasant opportunity it bore, rather than the miles ridden during it’s term.
i ride north on route 1, splitting the pine forests and the wildflowers into separate camps, the front lines of buttercup, clover, and daisy divided by the bumpy broken road, overcoming the tarmac with each subtle year of battle.
the final twenty miles become encased in fog - a grey ghost enveloping the world in neutral mist, destroying time and reality by the indistinct blanket seeping through the trees.

day 101

Thu, 19 Jun 2008 21:07:31 -0400

miles - 89.99
hours - 6:13.51
average speed - 14.4

hampton beach state park on the new hampshire shoreline boasts some of the most pristine stretches of sand i have ever seen on the eastern seaboard. the park advertises camping, although as i’ve lamentably come to find, the term and the land has been relegated to “strictly RV camping,” forbidding tenters from inserting their harmless stakes into the ground.
this fact saddens me greatly, particularly in this age when “going green” appears to be the catch word of the day.
i wait until darkness falls and the hum of air conditioned motor homes to slowly abate before pitching my tent in the most inconspicuous spot i can find. i intend to be out before daybreak, leaving no one the wiser nor affected by my violation of their perplexing rules.
alas, at 11 pm, i hear the dreaded rumble of ATV exhaust, punctuated by the powerful headlights illuminating my modest cocoon, and hear the words before the are uttered, banishing me from this sacred public land.
despite the night’s antics, i awake the next morning to the positively radiant sunshine, feeling fresh and pleased with my decision to continue riding northeast to maine. the riding is near perfect, flawed only by the gritty roads, but made up for by the rolling terrain which occasionally hugs the rocky shoreline.
where the road slims to thread through the eye of small town streets, i stop to assist a young mother trying to reattach her own bike trailer, laden with the weight of two small children. it’s an undertaking that she’s completely capable of, but caught at a time when even the simplest of tasks seems like a mammoth obstacle, she gratefully accepts my assistance. she tells me that i’ve come along like an angel watching over her, and while i have no delusions of grandeur, i am so pleased to be able to help another after receiving similar succor over the past few months.
later, i troll the streets of a city which shares the namesake of my home from which i first departed. portland, maine, in all its glowing brick and rigid cobbled streets represents another small milestone, a gift wrapped destination along this meandering route, symbolizing not the end, but the beginning of another journey altogether.

day 100

Wed, 18 Jun 2008 08:54:50 -0400

miles - 62.49
hours - 4:43.20
average speed - 13.2

the air, having cooled rapidly, possesses a pregnant void, a gap filled with an entity that doesn’t actually exist. the cold we feel is nothing in itself, rather an absence of heat, much the same way that the loss of love leaves us consumed with anguish.

i left boston, no more certain of my next destination than a falling leaf can predict where it will land. northwest to vermont, to sink into the ease of home, retiring my bicycle to the stables like the veteran warhorse it has proved itself to be. or to continue east, into maine, and to ride one more week, unchained to time, reinvigorated with the boyish enthusiasm with which i first embarked.
ultimately, i chose the latter, giving credence to the wise words i recently received, “you’ve ridden too long not to enjoy the end.”
since denver, i have ridden as if it were my job. in essence, my perspective demanded it, ensuring that each day devoured 100 miles, hardening me into a mobile waxen statue, undeterred by adversity or fatigue.
perhaps those days could not have been ridden differently, given the length of the trip and my original nature which powered it. the ebb and flow of nature transcends physicality and manifests itself in our characters, requiring that we rest - if not our bodies, than at least our minds.
and so to continue across the those windy plains or through the sagging heat of southern states, i was forced, albeit by my own imposition, to create a shell with which to hide in. but now, as i see this portion of my infinite journey reaching the beginning again, i feel revitalized and willing to expose the soft underbelly which transforms experience into growth. i must reopen the dust-cover to reveal the pages, lying blank and waiting for the next chapter to be written.