Daniel

Before I forget, let me tell you about Daniel.

I had camped on a secluded beach just north of Burlington, overlooking Lake Champlain. It was a fantastic spot, made even better by the sunset that night. The evening sky was an ever-evolving and enthralling work of art.

Sometime later that night, I hear a skirmish in the woods, then squealing brakes? Then voices. Frantic concerned voices. Yelling.

Are you ok? Oh my god. I didn't see you there. You're bleeding. Oh my god, are you ok?

I lay there in the tent wondering what the hell was going on. What time was it? It must've been past mid-night. Before I could get up to make sure everything was ok, the voices leave. I bewilderedly go back to sleep.

The next morning as I'm packing up on the beach, a figure comes furtively walking around the corner. Sort of like a meerket carefully comes out of its den, checking for danger before continuing. He's carrying a bike helmet and looking very disheveled. Matted hair going every which way, wild circles for blue eyes - looking like they'd just seen a ghost, scraggly goatee, soiled baggy clothes hanging off his thin wiry frame. Scrapes and bruises all over.

He asks where I'm headed, while inspecting my bike and gear. Asks if I like the panniers better than having a trailer. Says he's been touring on his bike too, vaguely pointing around the corner to where I assume his bike is. He has a trailer but doesn't like it, he says.

I'm trying to figure this guy out - he's all over the place. Nervously bouncing from one train of thought to the next. Is he homeless? Does he really have a bike? Is he really touring with a trailer? What's the fruit punch looking liquid in his water bottle?

Then I notice the bandage above his right eye. Ah ha! He was the guy from the night before! It makes sense now.

We keep talking. Eventually he describes how he 'ate shit' the night before. He'd been drinking and night riding with a friend. He likes to night ride. A real-life Knight Rider! Was his name KIT?

He was going too fast and his head lamp didn't illuminate the curve in the path quickly enough so off the cliff he went. He says the cliff was 80 feet. If the cliff was really 80 feet then this must be a mysterious spector I'm talking to since he would surely be dead.

He then pulls out a package of tobacco with which he hand-rolls a cigarette.

'I smoke while I ride. I know, I shouldn't. I should be dead by now but the wind keeps putting my cigarettes out!
I like to drink while I ride too.'

This guy is unbelievable.

A large flock of seagulls pass overhead in the dull, gray sky.

He remarks - 'pigeons are flying, eating, shitting machines!'

Right.

He once rode for 3 days straight through horrendous storms.

Why? I don't know.

He said he finally reached an underpass in West Virginia (it took him 3 days to reach an underpass, or shelter???), where, exhausted, he rested. Hung up his drenched clothes to dry and fell asleep.
Then, he says he woke up to someone hitting him over the head. More than one person. He was robbed and beaten. He said he spent 7 days riding around town looking for the perpetrators. I'm not sure what he planned to do to them once he found them, since he can't weigh much more than 140 pounds soaking wet.

Turns out he left on his trip in February. From COLORADO!

Umm, wasn't that cold buddy?

Sure was! I got stuck in snow storms, my hands froze.

So why did you leave in February, from Colorado?!

'Well, shit, what ELSE was there to do!'

Good lord.

Here's another beauty - he refuses to ride against the wind!
If the wind is in his face he will ride in the opposite direction so that the wind is at his back. Ha! No wonder he's been all over. He said he went from Colorado to Wyoming to Washington state and then down to Mexico. West Virginia was in the mix somewhere. He said he ended up in Bar Harbor, and then back to Burlington, VT.

During one of his diatribes, he gives me a list of 'things that suck'

1. Wind in your face
2. Flat tires (he once had 16 flat tires in one day. Right.)
3. Girls that don't want to... what the French call a certain I don't know what.

He is hobbling around, dragging one leg, says that he pulled his hamstring. I asked how. He said 'well, funny enough, I was talking to a girl and pulled it as I stood up!'
After pedaling thousands and thousands of miles on a bicycle, he pulled his hamstring standing up.
He showed me the back of his leg, it was all black and blue. It looked bad.

I asked why he didn't take a break to let it heal, he absently replied 'yeah, I probably should.'

He wants to live in Burlington because they give you free health care, according to him. I have no idea if this is true. He said the tax rate is 11.5% in order to pay for this benefit. He went to the doctor to have his leg checked out, since he felt it may be infected. 'They gave me medicine, but I'm not very good about taking it. Give me a beer and I'll drink it, but give me medicine and I'll forget to take it.'

He also wants extensive dental work done. He lifts his lip up, ugh. Definitely a case of summer teeth. Some are there, some are not there.

Talking to him was like following a fly around trying to catch it with chopsticks. Or so I imagine...

I told him I wanted some coffee and needed to find a laundermat.

'Great, I'll show you where they are!'

We walk up to where his bike is... his bike... I can't even describe it. It has yellow cray-paper tape all over it 'because it kept getting scratched up'. It looked to be the 1974 model. I didn't see any brakes and it seemed like the wheels and frame were begging to give up, to give in to this tired journey and collapse into a heap of exhausted metal.
His trailer was at least 4 feet wide, no joke. It was like he was towing a little red wagon, only it was gray, wider, and made of aluminum.
On it, he had an old blue down jacket and a backpack. And that was it. There was no tent, no sleeping bag, no nothing.

Later he mentioned that he found a nice spot in the woods to live. That's where his tent and sleeping bag must be. He is thinking about getting a job and saving up for a big 6 person tent. His wistful idea of a dream home.

But what about winter???

'Oh, I'll just buy a heater. And insulate the outside of the tent. I've heated a tent before with 3 candles. Just enough to keep you warm.'

He asks if I need a bathroom, suggests we should brush our teeth. He forgets to do that sometimes, he says, 'just look at my teeth!'

I know pal, I've seen your teeth. What's left of them.

He leads me to this bathroom in a restaurant on the water. He asks if I have some toothpaste he could borrow. I do.

We go back to the bikes, but don't leave. His leg hurts too much. He keeps talking about his leg, then digs out a bottle of pills, says he has one left. He takes it. Says his leg needs a quick rest.

Five minutes later, he says 'I need a shot, for the pain.' Pulls out a plastic jug of vodka covered in a brown bag. Adds a healthy amount to his water bottle, then adds fruit punch from another container.

It's 8am.

He tells me about how he spent time in the Air Force. Said he scored in the 98th percentile on everything, but that his psychological evaluation turned up some problems, they said he had too strong of an urge to kill.

He thought that was ludicrous since isn't that what they were supposed to do anyway???

Good point!

Then he started talking about politics and war. Finally, before he got too carried away, I said 'look man, I gotta go to the laundermat.'

Phew.

We ride down the road with him lazily weaving around the street. In and out, left and right, he was all over the road. Handlebar in one hand, water bottle in the other. And his cart - his wide load trailer!

It was all too much.

He tells me about a free dinner at 5:15pm. At the Starvation Army, as he calls it. Says I should stick around anyway since it was bound to rain.
Then he takes me to the food bank and asks if I'm hungry.
Do I want a sandwich?
I'm ok, thanks.
Seriously, they have sandwiches, I'll get you one.
Before I could stop him, in he goes.
He comes back out and says they only have hot soup this morning.
Do I want soup?
No thanks, I'm ok.
Are you sure, because they have nice hot soup in there?
Yes, I'm sure. Thank you though.

He was persistant in wanting to help me.

We get to the coffee shop, then to the laundermat. There he tries to decide if he should wash his jacket. Says it smells a bit. He's asking everyone in the laundermat what they know about washing down jackets. I told him I think it gets clumpy when wet and maybe he shouldn't. Especially since he wanted to put it in with my clothes.

Finally he gives up on the jacket. Then he brings in a towel! Wants to wash that too. I told him the cycle was already underway but would gladly pay for him to do another load, with anything else he wants to wash.

He declines, seemingly annoyed that I wouldn't throw the towel in with my load. He said something about us being cyclists and helping each other out. I could've misinterpreted it.

Anyway, I'm reading a magazine, he wonders off. Comes back 15 minutes later with a huge pile of clothes and blankets on his wagon!
He said some guy was moving out and was throwing all this stuff away, so he took it all. Saved it. Said he was going to ride around town giving it to homeless people who could really use it.

And off he went.

I watched as he rode down the road, pile of blankets and clothes in tow.

I couldn't help but feel ashamed. I didn't want to wash his towel, yet here he was showing me around town, offering me what little he had, what little he knew, what little he could do. He had so little, yet wanted to give it away.

Later in the afternoon, after lunch at a grocery store and a movie matinee, I saw Daniel's bike and wagon leaned up against a tree in the park. He had mentioned he liked that park. I look around and see a lifeless figure on the ground, with a brown bag five feet from his hand. It was Daniel, catching up on some Z's.

The sky was ominous all day, I waited and waited and waited for the rains. They never came. Made me think about life and how we wait to make a move for fear of something happening, something going wrong. Waiting for the rains. Assuming the worst. But if you always do that then you'll never know, will you? You could've, would've, should've - if only you had taken that leap of faith. What's the worst that will happen, it rains? You get wet?

Anyway, I didn't have a place to stay that night. I thought about a hotel, but all the hotels were pretty expensive. And, I had just gotten my new and improved triple stamped double sealed waterproof tent, so why worry, right? I rode around town looking for a place to lay my head. I ended up finding a church with a canopy. I took shelter from the storm, which did eventually come, around 7pm.
As the rain pounded the parking lot pavement, I couldn't help but think of Daniel. Was he ok? Did he find shelter? Was his tent waterproof?

I was feeling quite homeless, tucked into a corner of a church. I watched people walk by, going about their lives. I was the guy in the shadows.
I wasn't depressed about it, it was just a different perspective. I had the luxury of a warm sleeping bag and a tent for shelter and a credit card in my pocket with some dollar bills, able to buy food and water if I pleased.
Daniel and the countless thousands of other homeless people in this country aren't quite so lucky.

As a slight chill went through my body, I could only imagine what it's like to be homeless in the winter. You can't feel cold without feeling lonely too. The temperature and the emotion seemingly go hand in hand.

I learned a lot from Daniel. I won't forget him. He was a good man, with or without a drinking problem. Why he chose that nomadic lifestyle I am not sure, but it was his choice and he seemed content with it.
I will never forget the image of him excitedly pointing to his cart full of blankets and clothes, and him riding down the street on his way to share them with those less fortunate. It is indeliably etched in my mind. A lesson for all time.


As I sat in the Verizon store yesterday morning, waiting for them to fix my phone (my phone completely has a mind of its own these days, it doesn't tell me about messages for days, randomly turns itself off, it's charming), I fished out my Adventure Cycling map for Vermont. Turns out it is Map 11 - the LAST MAP! Wow. One more map and badeee badeee badeee that's all folks!

I was reading about Vermont - Vermont was in a heated battle with New Yorkers prior to the American Revolution (New Yorkers wanted the land between NY and NH, but not if Ethan Allen and the Green Mountain boys had anything to do with it!) but put aside their differences to battle the Brits.

They (Vermont) signed the Declaration of Independence, then promptly declared themselves an independent republic a year later - printing their own money and everything.

Even today, or recently, I've read that Vermont wants to secede from the Union. The Union is not so strong here! I love it. I saw a bumper sticker today that at first glance said BUSH, but upon further inspection noticed two L's after the BU and IT after the SH. Clever, and quite amusing!

Yesterday at the library - just out of curiosity - I mapquested it from Burlington, VT to Bar Harbor, ME to get an idea how many miles were left. I was assuming 500 or 600... nope! 330. 330 miles to the end.

Manohman. It will be a little longer than that because I'm going to head south to catch back up with the Adventure Cycling route (I had gone off the route and out of the way to visit Lake Placid and Burlington) but still. The end is near.

I was riding through the town of Waterbury, VT yesterday, an absolutely gorgeous fall-like day, when I met Barry.

Barry was riding West and I was riding East. He asked where I was headed, where I started, we talked for a bit and he invited me to his place for shower, laundry, electricity - all the good stuff we nomadic wanderers delight in!

He gave me directions and here I am, in this fantastic rustic home up in the woods, near Montpelier. Lotsa French names - Champlain, Montpelier - in fact Vermont means 'green mountain' in French.
So that explains the hills! Rrrrright.

Here I am thinking that after the Adirondacks I am mountain-free. Nope. We have the Green mountains, then the White mountains in New Hampshire. I'm hoping the White mountains stay true to their color qualities and encompass every single possible color, but Barry said it's rolling hills all the way to Bar Harbor.

Anyway, I don't know where to begin with Barry. He's another unique character that I could endlessly write about. He spent two and a half years on his bike in 1973, touring around the world. Not months, YEARS.
One of his favorite places was Turkey. He said it was the most dangerous place because he was always taking his hand off the handlebars to return friendly waves and greetings from passers-by.

Since then he did another tour through Central and South America. He's been all over Europe - Italy, France, up and over the Alps, Switzerland, Germany, Greece, Turkey. You name it, I'm pretty sure Barry and his bike have been there.

He made a fantastic pasta dinner with peanut sauce, and a fresh tasty salad. There is no TV here, just quiet and beautiful mountains for your viewing pleasure. The Sugarbush ski resort is directly across the valley, with Stowe just to the north. He is an avid skier and loves the winter.

He's leaving this weekend to meet his wife, who is currently working as a volunteer nurse in Guatamala. Giving, in Guatamala.

As I rode up the hill to his home yesterday, through meandering roads following a babbling brook, I stopped and listened. Took a deep breath and looked around. It was silent. There were leaves scattered on the ground, an early 'fall' for them. Water was dribbling down the stream, a dusty silvery gray. It looked as if someone had sprinkled magical pixy dust into the water. It was translucent, with a fairy tale fake look to it. Like a movie.

I imagined living up in the woods. If this was what life was like up here then why would you possibly want to live anywhere else, or any other way?

He lives in a simple home made out of wood. A beautiful home with a beautiful view of the valley and mountains.

As I arrived he was out in the yard, working on huge beams of wood. He is building a guest house, primarily for his sister and her 5 kids, for when they visit. He felled a few large trees and is now cutting them, shaping them. Bringing them down to proper size. It will probably take him a few years to complete, he thinks.

I am sipping coffee from the upstairs loft, looking out on the fog-filled valley, with sun splashing the mountain-tops.

How fortunate I was, to cross paths with Barry. To meet Daniel. To be on this trip.

Today I am taking a fun-filled tour of the Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream Factory. Barry says it's definitely worth doing.

I will probably reach New Hampshire tonight, Vermont is less than 100 miles wide in most parts. And so it is...on I go.