9.24.2007

Bar Harbor, Maine -- The End. of Phase 1

I camped in the front yard of Amelia's parents house Thursday night. It was the last time I'd camp for some time.

I was going to camp in a nice state park I found, overlooking a shiny new bridge they had just built - but I knew it was heavily patrolled and I knew they'd find me and I knew they would not be pleased about my camping there. So then I found this rest area, also owned by the state.
I was considering that, when I saw two people outside in their yard, near a green pickup truck.

By the time I rolled over, the truck had left and a woman was going back into the house.
I waved at the woman and said 'I know this may sound a little random, but would you mind if I camped in your front yard?'
I explained myself a little more.
She looked at me with a suspicious smile, said she should probably ask her dad first since it's his house. We talked, while waiting for her dad to return.

She was very nice, probably in her late 40s. She was up visiting her sick mother. Then she told me about her daughter, how her daughter had been in a serious motorcycle accident (and wasn't wearing a helmet), and not long after that was in a serious automobile accident.
She said her daughter wasn't right, wasn't the same, wasn't all there.

Bad news. When you hear things like that, you are reminded that health is something to be thankful for. Two eyes that work and two ears that work and two arms that work and two legs that work and one brain that works. Even if it's only at 10% capacity. Get to work brain!

The next morning I packed up. And I rode, one last time. I rode with music and happiness.
I rode with hundreds of different emotions, thousands of tangential thoughts, a mind of a million little pieces.

Taking it all in. Whether I wanted to or not. Whether I was ready for the end or not. Honestly it was all a bit surreal.

A good friend had asked what song I would listen to as I rode into Bar Harbor. To The End.

A good question, only because I'm a little obsessed with music.

I thought about it and I didn't know. What encompasses everything? How can you sum this trip up? I didn't know and wasn't sure it was possible.

Then the song Ocean came on, by the John Butler Trio.

And suddenly everything was summarized. My bike skipped lightly across the pavement. Bikey go lightly.

Of course it was Ocean. From one ocean to the other.

I remember telling a friend one time that I could only hope to feel as free as that song, one day. One sweet day.
At the time I said that, I didn't feel free. It was a far away concept, wishful thinking.

But then there I was on Route 230, heading into Bar Harbor, Maine -- feeling that free. The music matching my mood. The song summarizing my soul.

It was the culmination of every single thing that had happened along the way. It was the beginning and the end.
Encapsulating everything. Every thought, every feeling, every emotion, every experience.

Only two songs give me the chills, and this is one of them.
Here is a YouTube video of it, although this isn't quite as good as the version on the Live at Saint Gallen album.
I've seen this performed live twice, so I can confirm that this one character is making every single sweet sound that you hear.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5xZw9D9c18E

Note especially time 1:21 and time 3:35, where my bike was officially skipping across the pavement in a joyously fine frenzy. A fantastic finale.

Here is a better sounding, more complete version of the song, only the video isn't as good.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fYEMtsdV-Ok&NR=1

And that was it. My Champs-Elysees, my ride under L'Arc de Triomphe. Only my Arc was the overhanging sunlit tree branches and my Triumph was a dip in the Atlantic Ocean. There were no Champs, no winners or losers. Only life lessons learned.


Last week, as I got closer to Bar Harbor, I realized that I needed a plan. Ignorance (of the inevitable end) had been bliss, but sooner or later I'd be there. And then what?
Up until that point it was one day at a time. One revolution after another. No plan needed, no purchase required - just pedal.
Wherever you ended up - you camped. It was simple.

But now I was slowly being welcomed back into the world of plans and requirements.
I had left all those questions behind, those questions of what I wanted to do with my life and what I wanted to be when I grow up.
This trip had removed them for a time - for 84 days I was just a guy who woke up and pedaled.

I talked to my mom, and she thought someone should be there at the end. She didn't think I should lonelily dip my tire in the Atlantic by myself.

So my mom came. Initially it seemed silly, to ride a bicycle across an entire country - only to have my mom come and pick me up like I'd just finished up soccer practice. But then I thought about it and why wouldn't I want my mom there? She wanted to celebrate with me, congratulate me. She was proud of me. She was willing to take a day off work. She was willing to drive 12 hours each way from Rochester to Bar Harbor, by herself, to be there at the end. She's the coolest mom in the world.

Not to mention it solved a bunch of logistical problems. Problems like: how am I going to get my computer, and warmer clothes that I had shipped back to Rochester? And - how am I going to get somewhere other than Bar Harbor? Hitch-hike? OG Ride More?

This solved them all, and gave me a one person cheering section.

I arrived in Bar Harbor, but not before one last sneaky climb of almost 1,000 feet. I was so excited that I barely noticed.

My odometer stopped working about 30 miles shy of Bar Harbor... as if to say - 'You don't need me anymore. Enjoy.'

I turned right on Main Street, past all the quaint fishing village shops and restaurants. I stopped at the pier and looked. And smiled. Deep breath.
I was there. After a time, I got off my bike. I took a picture of the bike with the harbor as the background.

Ocean. From the Pacific to the Atlantic.

There was no sight of my mom yet and I couldn't call her. My phone had died the night before thanks to my good friend Morning Dew. No comment.

I asked a hostess outside of a restaurant if she had a cell phone I could borrow. She didn't.
Then a young man came out, another host, I asked him - no luck. But he mentioned something about happy hour, so in I went!

I ordered a martini. Looking out the window at the harbor. Still not believing this was it.

Then I saw my mom driving down the hill. I walked outside to let her know I was in the bar. I overheard her talking to a cop, saying she had to find her son on a bike. I said 'here I am'. She was so excited, I'll never forget it. She could barely contain herself.
She parked and came into the bar, still ready to burst with excitement. I think she was more excited than I was!

She said 'we need to dip the front tire in the ocean!' I had already scoped out the tire dipping situation but all I found were inaccessible rocky cliffs. With each sip of the martini, I was becoming less and less inclined to dip the tire, or even colder - to jump in the ocean. I hadn't jumped in the Pacific, so why jump in the Atlantic. Right?

As we left the bar, I said goodbye to the host. In talking with him before, I was telling him about some of the people I had started with - Thierry from France, Jim the 69 y/o guy, Alexander from Russia. He said that he was from Russia too. St. Petersburg - where Alexander was from.
Then as we're walking out, I'm telling my mom all of this, and the guy says his name is Alexander too! He says 'my name is Alexander too. So you start your trip with an Alexander from St. Petersburg, and you end your trip with an Alexander from St. Petersburg.'
Crazy huh? What are the odds...

As we're walking over to the car, I noticed a dog in the water. What was a dog doing in the water? How had he gotten down there?
Then I saw it - a ramp. A perfect little ramp, headed down to a small beach.

One thing I've learned along the way is to be open to things as they are presented to you. I don't know if it is God or the Universe or Chance or inter-connected sub-atomic particles - or whatever it is - but I feel that things work out as they should.
That if you're open and pay attention to your surroundings and subtle signs, that the Way will be illuminated for you.
So the decision was made for me. The ramp was quite obviously presented to me, saying 'ahhh, not so fast buddy - you have some unfinished business here!'

We walked down, got some pictures dipping the tire. Then I leaned my bike up against a wall one last time, took off my shoes, took a few deep breaths and in I went.

I walked in, and then dove. It wasn't frigid, but certainly wasn't warm either. It wasn't really about temperature, or it wasn't temperature that I noticed. It felt sort of like the waterfall in Glacier National Park - just pure exhilaration. I lingered briefly, feeling the moment. And then I felt the temperature - COLD.

Heading back up the ramp, shivering, some random guy came up and shook my hand. He knew. It was cool.

Then it began, the disassembling of my life. My life on a bike. Panniers off, front rack off. Fitting back into trunks, compartments. Needing to be contained... as our world so often requires. The bungees held the top of the trunk down.

And that was it. My life on a bike, Volume 1. The end.

My mom and I had a great great dinner, then stayed with my cyclist friend and his family. They are good people.

The next day my mom drove me down to my friend's house in Plymouth, MA. Then headed home Sunday morning. I am so glad she came and was able to share in that unique experience. I think it was neat for both of us. A lasting memory.

So now it begins. What to do, what to do.

The NYC marathon has a lottery system, because there are far more people that want to run each year than they have room for.
I think about 60,000 apply and only 30,000 get in. I had entered the lottery the past two years and been denied, but this year I got in.
The sub-atomic particles are trying to tell me something.
You'd better run!
The marathon is on November 4th, so I have about 5 weeks to prepare. I am obviously in decent shape after riding a bicycle 4,300 miles, but running is a different motion requiring different muscles, so I'll have to start training.

Initially I had thought I could hang around the NYC area, staying at different friend's places, sleeping on their couches and running on their roads -
but 5 weeks is a long time to impose your wandering self on people. People that have lives and routines. So I will probably have to head home to Rochester until the marathon.

I was in a Dunkin Donuts yesterday, ordering coffee, and as I was walking out I saw the bathroom... and realized I had no business in there!
It was bizarre. No water bottles to fill, no cycling clothes to change into, no faces to wash, no teeth to brush, nothing. I know that may sound strange, but to me it was.

I have a feeling I will be experiencing that a lot in the coming days. Adapting to life off a bike. I have to admit I am feeling like a fish out of water right now. Donnie you're out of your element!

But - if there's one thing that this trip taught me - one invaluable thing - it is to take it one day at a time. One pedal at a time.
Each day that I rode, I never really thought about tomorrow - mostly because I had no idea where I'd be tomorrow!
I didn't even know where I would be THAT night, let alone tomorrow. I didn't know what town I would be in, or even where I'd sleep.
But I was ok with that.
And that is how I need to be now. Ok with not knowing.

My friend Greg and I went to the ocean on Sunday. We took two kayaks and were paddling around in the Atlantic. It was a great day, warm and sunny, absolutely beeeautiful - although it was a little strange, paddling around in my goal.
I was trying to ride the waves for awhile, but because they either break to the left or the right - they were always almost tipping me over as I tried to ride them. I was trying to go straight and the breaking wave was trying to go left or right. And it was my first time on a kayak so I hadn't learned how to balance the two out with proper paddling.
Then I realized that I could just lay down in the kayak and let the waves and current take me where they may. As long as you weren't right where the waves were breaking, you could just float around. Even better! It didn't matter where they took me, as long as it wasn't out to sea.
Why try and fight it, or control it?
So that's my motto today, to sit back and allow the waves of life to take me where they may.

My computer isn't cooperating with the uploading of the pictures, but I should be able to post some pictures soon.

Thanks to all of you for having an interest in this trip. I am sorry to see it come to an end too.
But am excited for what the future holds.
Maybe it's not the end, maybe it's just the beginning. Phase 1. Either way - it was a great experience.

9.21.2007

Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie, by Bob Dylan

This came on my ipod as I laid in my tent last night, looking up at the stars.
Reflecting on the trip, knowing that it was probably my last night camping for awhile.
Under the stars.
I met a cyclist in New Hampshire who lives in Bar Harbor, so I plan on staying with him and his family tonight.

It was fitting that these spoken words by Bob Dylan shuffled through the buds.

Upon thinking about it, this trip has been one long Grand Canyon Sundown.


Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie - by Bob Dylan
There's this book comin' out, an' they asked me to write something about Woody...
Sort of like "What does Woody Guthrie mean to you?" in twenty-five words...

And I couldn't do it -- I wrote out five pages and... I have it here, it's...
Have it here by accident, actually... but I'd like to say this out loud...
So... if you can sort of roll along with this thing here, this is called
"Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie."

When your head gets twisted and your mind grows numb
When you think you're too old, too young, too smart or too dumb
When you're laggin' behind an' losin' your pace
In the slow-motion crawl or life's busy race
No matter whatcha doin' if you start givin' up
If the wine don't come to the top of your cup
If the wind got you sideways it's one hand holdin' on
And the other starts slippin' and the feelin' is gone
And your train engine fire needs a new spark to catch it
And the wood's easy findin' but you're lazy to fetch it
And your sidewalk starts curlin' and the street gets too long
And you start walkin' backwards though you know that it's wrong
And lonesome comes up as down goes the day
And tomorrow's mornin' seems so far away
And you feel the reins from your pony are slippin'
And your rope is a-slidin' 'cause your hands are a-drippin'
And your sun-decked desert and evergreen valleys
Turn to broken down slums and trash-can alleys
And your sky cries water and your drain pipe's a-pourin'
And the lightnin's a-flashin' and the thunder's a-crashin'
The windows are rattlin' and breakin' and the roof tops are shakin'
And your whole world's a-slammin' and bangin'
And your minutes of sun turn to hours of storm
An' to yourself you sometimes say
"I never knew it was gonna be this way
Why didn't they tell me the day I was born?"

And you start gettin' chills and you're jumpin' from sweat
And you're lookin' for somethin' you ain't quite found yet
And you're knee-deep in dark water with your hands in the air
And the whole world's watchin' with a window peek stare
And your good gal leaves and she's long gone a-flyin'
And your heart feels sick like fish when they're fryin'
And your jackhammer falls from your hands to your feet
But you need it badly an' it lays on the street
And your bell's bangin' loudly but you can't hear its beat
And you think your ears mighta been hurt
Your eyes've turned filthy from the sight-blindin' dirt
And you figured you failed in yesterday's rush
When you were faked out an' fooled while facin' a four flush
And all the time you were holdin' three queens
It's makin you mad, it's makin' you mean
Like in the middle of Life magazine
Bouncin' around a pinball machine
And there's something on your mind that you wanna be sayin'
That somebody someplace oughta be hearin'
But it's trapped on your tongue, sealed in your head
And it bothers you badly when your layin' in bed
And no matter how you try you just can't say it
And you're scared to your soul you just might forget it
And your eyes get swimmy from the tears in your head
An' your pillows of feathers turn to blankets of lead
And the lion's mouth opens and you're starin' at his teeth
And his jaws start closin' with you underneath
And you're flat on your belly with your hands tied behind
And you wish you'd never taken that last detour sign
You say to yourself just what am I doin'
On this road I'm walkin', on this trail I'm turnin'
On this curve I'm hangin'
On this pathway I'm strollin', this space I'm taking
And this air I'm inhaling?
Am I mixed up too much, am I mixed up too hard
Why am I walking, where am I running
What am I saying, what am I knowing
On this guitar I'm playing, on this banjo I'm frailing
On this mandolin I'm strumming, in the song I'm singing,
In the tune I'm humming, in the words that I'm thinking
In the words I'm writing
In this ocean of hours I'm all the time drinking
Who am I helping, what am I breaking
What am I giving, what am I taking?
But you try with your whole soul best
Never to think these thoughts and never to let
Them kind of thoughts gain ground
Or make your heart pound
But then again you know when they're around
Just waiting for a chance to slip and drop down
'Cause sometimes you hear 'em when the night time come creeping
And you fear they might catch you sleeping
And you jump from your bed, from the last chapter of dreamin'
And you can't remember for the best of your thinkin'
If that was you in the dream that was screaming
And you know that's somethin' special you're needin'
And you know there's no drug that'll do for the healing
And no liquor in the land to stop your brain from bleeding

You need somethin' special
You need somethin' special, all right
You need a fast flyin' train on a tornado track
To shoot you someplace and shoot you back
You need a cyclone wind on a stream engine howler
That's been banging and booming and blowing forever
That knows your troubles a hundred times over
You need a Greyhound bus that don't bar no race
That won't laugh at your looks
Your voice or your face
And by any number of bets in the book
Will be rolling long after the bubblegum craze
You need something to open up a new door
To show you something you seen before
But overlooked a hundred times or more
You need something to open your eyes
You need something to make it known
That it's you and no one else that owns
That spot that you're standing, that space that you're sitting
That the world ain't got you beat
That it ain't got you licked
It can't get you crazy no matter how many times you might get kicked
You need something special, all right
You need something special to give you hope
But hope's just a word
That maybe you said, maybe you heard
On some windy corner 'round a wide-angled curve

But that's what you need man, and you need it bad
And your trouble is you know it too good
'Cause you look an' you start gettin' the chills
'Cause you can't find it on a dollar bill
And it ain't on Macy's window sill
And it ain't on no rich kid's road map
And it ain't in no fat kid's fraternity house
And it ain't made in no Hollywood wheat germ
And it ain't on that dim-lit stage
With that half-wit comedian on it
Rantin' and ravin' and takin' your money
And you thinks it's funny
No, you can't find it neither in no night club, no yacht club
And it ain't in the seats of a supper club
And sure as hell you're bound to tell
No matter how hard you rub
You just ain't a-gonna find it on your ticket stub
No, it ain't in the rumors people're tellin' you
And it ain't in the pimple-lotion people are sellin' you
And it ain't in a cardboard-box house
Or down any movie star's blouse
And you can't find it on the golf course
And Uncle Remus can't tell you and neither can Santa Claus
And it ain't in the cream puff hairdo or cotton candy clothes
Ain't in the dime store dummies an' bubblegum goons
And it ain't in the marshmallow noises of the chocolate cake voices
That come knocking and tapping in Christmas wrapping
Sayin' ain't I pretty and ain't I cute, look at my skin,
Look at my skin shine, look at my skin glow,
Look at my skin laugh, look at my skin cry,
When you can't even sense if they got any insides
These people so pretty in their ribbons and bows
No, you'll not now or no other day
Find it on the doorsteps made of paper maché
And inside of the people made of molasses
That every other day buy a new pair of sunglasses
And it ain't in the fifty-star generals and flipped-out phonies
Who'd turn you in for a tenth of a penny
Who breathe and burp and bend and crack
And before you can count from one to ten
Do it all over again but this time behind your back, my friend,
The ones that wheel and deal and whirl and twirl
And play games with each other in their sand-box world
And you can't find it either in the no-talent fools
That run around gallant
And make all the rules for the ones that got talent
And it ain't in the ones that ain't got any talent but think they do
And think they're fooling you
The ones that jump on the wagon
Just for a while 'cause they know it's in style
To get their kicks, get out of it quick
And make all kinds of rnoney and chicks
And you yell to yourself and you throw down your hat
Saying, "Christ, do I gotta be like that?
Ain't there no one here that knows where I'm at
Ain't there no one here that knows how I feel
Good God Almighty, that stuff ain't real":

No, but that ain't your game, it ain't your race
You can't hear your name, you can't see your face
You gotta look some other place
And where do you look for this hope that you're seekin'
Where do you look for this lamp that's a-burnin'
Where do you look for this oil well gushin'
Where do you look for this candle that's glowin'
Where do you look for this hope that you know is there
And out there somewhere
And your feet can only walk down two kinds of roads
Your eyes can only look through two kinds of windows
Your nose can only smell two kinds of hallways
You can touch and twist
And turn two kinds of doorknobs
You can either go to the church of your choice
Or you go to Brooklyn State Hospital

You find God in the church of your choice
You find Woody Guthrie in Brooklyn State Hospital
And though it's only my opinion
I may be right or wrong
You'll find them both
In Grand Canyon
Sundown

9.20.2007

Belfast, Maine

Seriously, am I in Europe? Two nights ago I stayed in Dresden.
Now I am in Belfast?

Is this a fake hang-up? It's a fake hang up!

So, my brain is scattered. I can't seem to collect my thoughts.

I'm 78 miles from Bar Harbor. I will be there tomorrow.

Weird. It hasn't really sunk in yet.

I rolled into Camden, Maine (much nicer than Camden, NJ!) yesterday, another beautiful day.
I've been blessed with amazing weather the past 4 days. Sunny - highs in the 70s, lows in the 40s or upper 30s.
There was a frost warning the other night and boyyyy were they not kidding!
Brrrrrrrrrrrrrr chilly dog.

Anyway, I got into Camden, which is tourism central, took a secret sidewalk that looked very appealing for some reason - I just felt compelled to follow it.
Follow the yellow brick road and the secret sidewalk.
And wouldn't you know - OCEAN! It was a park overlooking an inlet, not the official 'water for as far as you can see' ocean. But still. It was salt-water in the harbor, with boats that go directly to the ocean without passing GO - I even saw a cruise ship, those dastardly floating garbage heaps.

I stood there, just looking. After so many miles it hardly seemed real. I was there, or almost there.

I love having the ocean as a destination, or goal. There is something expansive and free about it. I leaned my bike up against a bench and just sat there for awhile in the warm sun. Listening to my iPod.
My iPod! That's another story for another time. The moral of the story is that two days ago it rose from the dead. Hip hip, hooray!

A special thanks to Steve and Jennifer from Dresden for bequeathing an iPod charger to me.
I stayed with them two nights ago. It was a great time, I'll have to write more about that later.

I left Dresden yesterday, armed with sweet precious music, and rode up and down the backroads of Maine. Maine doesn't have a lot of flat ground. Or roads with shoulders for that matter. More on that later too.
Bob Dylan's 'Subterranean Homesick Blues' came on and I smiled when I heard the line 'you don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows.' Made me think of my good and crazy homeless friend Daniel.
Then, The Coast by Paul Simon... fitting. Then Graceland!
The Mississippi Delta, was shining like a national guitar. Reminded me of my original cross-country trip to California with two great friends 4 years ago. What a time it was, for many reasons. Boomland and all!

I still don't know how I feel about seeing the ocean. It feels like I'm seeing the bride in her wedding dress before the wedding - and you're not supposed to do that!
I was riding along Route 1 this morning up the coast of Maine, and I kept seeing it.
I would look at it, and it, me. I almost felt like I didn't want to see it yet, or wasn't ready for it.

Go away ocean, I'm not ready for you yet.

To me, it signals the end of a very unique and amazing experience.

I'm like a kid at a playground, where the mom has to drag the kid off the monkey bars, kicking and screaming.


I wanted it to just appear out of nowhere in Bar Harbor - where I'd jump off my bike and into the water in some glorious final scene, like two lovers being reunited - running in slow motion towards each other with cheesy music playing in the background.

Alas, I've seen it. Tomorrow I will arrive in Bar Harbor and thus conclude a most incredible experience.

9.18.2007

Paris, Norway and Maine - Around the World in 10 Minutes

I'm in Paris, Maine. Slept on the shores of Lake Pennesseewassee last night, near the town of Norway, Maine.

Norway, Paris - I'm getting the feeling that this is another state that didn't want to bother with the naming of their towns, so they too just whipped out the globe, spun it around its axis and where it stops - why that's the name of our town!

I saw the sign for Lake Pennesseewassee and immediately slammed on the brakes and turned left down the road to the boat launch. Some things are no-brainers, such as the opportunity to sleep near a lake called Pennesseewassee.
There was misty fog enveloping the lake this morning. Once the sun came up, the illuminating light danced around with the water molecules, do-si-do-ing its partner round and round a carousel of magic morning light.

Oh - speaking of lakes - I saw Lake Winnipesaukee on the map the other day!
It actually exists! In central New Hampshire.
I was so excited. Doctoooor Leeeeeooooo Marviiiiiin - you cured meee, you geeeenius!
And if you haven't seen What About Bob - then you should.

So, it's time for my mind to hit the rewind button, to 3 days ago. Hop in its 'time. machine.'
Is it too much to ask to get sharks with freaking laser beams attached to their freaking heads?!?

After staying with Barry in the backwoods of Vermont, I backtracked 5 miles to Waterbury, where the Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream Factory was. I had missed it the first time through, but how can you pass up a chance to take a tour of an ice cream factory and eat free ice cream?
You can't.
I am good at eating ice cream. People ask - have you lost a lot of weight on your trip?
I say 'well, I've had many MANY different cheeseburgers (Commendant Lessard speaking), mucho de ice-cream cone-os and numerous six packs of beer, so no, not really.'

Upon learning that Ben and Jerry's sold their company to Unilever a few years ago 'to expand their global reach', I asked the tour guide what he thought of Ben and Jerry cashing out.

'Oh, they didn't cash out, they just figured that Unilever was better positioned to take Ben and Jerry's global.'

Whatever man, they cashed out. It's ok, I would too.

Hmmm, thousands of pieces of paper indicating your majority ownership of a company...
or, selling those thousands of pieces of paper in exchange for millions of other pieces of paper with Alexander Hamilton's picture on them. I will take Door #2 please.

They are now owned by a company that can clean you and all your 2000 body parts.
Lever 2000 - for you and all your 2000 parts. Right-o!
So now you can slop yourself up silly with Chunky Monkey, then wash it all off with soap made for your 2000 parts. One stop shopping!

They do have a lot of good social programs though, buying coffee from local growers in South America, buying brownies from an inner city bakery in the Bronx. Supporting local Vermont farmers.

Anyway, after that I went back through town, where the Red Cross was having a blood drive. I always give blood whenever I see a blood drive, so I stopped.
The Green Mountain Coffee company was giving away free coffee to donors. They had lots of representatives who were very interested in what I was doing. Eventually we got the maps out, then the Red Cross people had me rolling up my sleeves, tapping my veins - declaring them super healthy and ready for donation. The one lady was hesitent since I was cycling each day, but she relented and agreed when I told her it was not a big deal and if I felt light-headed while riding that I would stop. Before fainting and crashing.

This giving blood became an all day affair. You had to fill out an initial form, then go downstairs and wait in the waiting room, then you got called into another room to have your iron checked and blood pressure taken, then they asked you 1,374 questions about the last time you had sex with a penguin from Zambia -

Question: 'So, between 1974 and 1986 - did you travel to Tasmania and have sexual contact with any midgets?'
Answer: NO.
Question: 'In the last 6 months, have you shot heroin with anyone known to be HIV positive?
Answer: NO.
Question: 'Are you a biological male?'
Answer: Um, I took Biology in 9th grade, Mr. Warner was my teacher, is that what you mean? Oh, you mean - did I have a sex change? Ha. Um, no. I am a biological male.

Good lord! Where do they come up with this stuff???

So, after this long bizarre questionnaire, you then go upstairs and sit in another chair! Waiting to give blood. Stage 4. Finally I get to the chair. I talk with the guy taking my blood, he says 'so you were the biker outside earlier, right?'
Yes.
Where you headed again?
Bar Harbor, cross country.
Wow, that is so cool. I understand what you're getting at. It's not about the bike. It's the self-discovery, learning about self. Seeking truth.

This guy was into martial arts, very cool guy. He understood.

After giving blood, one of the Green Mountain guys stopped me and introduced me to a guy from the local radio station. He wanted to interview me on the radio. Live coverage!

I agreed, and next thing you know the radio guy is on the air, talking about the blood drive, then starts asking me questions. How many states have you been to? Where are you headed? What has been your favorite part? Given what you are doing, why in the world would you decide to give blood?

He concluded the interview by telling the people to come on down and give blood. You may very well save a life by doing so.

I never think of it that way. To me, you sit in a chair, try not to look at the red tube and bag for five minutes, then you stand up and try not to fall over, drink some juice, and on you go.

But, if you think about it, blood is pretty personal. It is unique to you. It flows through your veins and arteries, delivers vital oxygen to cells and organs and muscles. Why would you want to give that away?
You certainly don't have to. As the radio guy and I looked around the room, pondering why all of these people wanted to give of themselves, I didn't have a good answer. I think human beings are good, at the core, that's why.

The Green Mountain people gave me a Ben and Jerry's water bottle and a Green Mountain t-shirt as a thanks, and sent me on my way. Send me on my way, badddya say baddddyum. That's Rusted Root.

As I pedaled up a hill and instantly became out of breath, with 5 quarts pumping through my veins instead of 6, I wondered if maybe I shouldn't have given blood...
Oops. Oh well. I had similar thoughts later, as the night chill got the best of me. 'Maybe some extra blood would've come in handy for warming purposes...'

But the great thing about blood is that it recreates itself. Amazing.

Wouldn't you think - that if we can recreate entire sheep! - that we could recreate blood?
You would think...

On I went to Montpelier, where I met Rachael. We talked for awhile, she invited me to camp on her land. Well, her landlord's land. She called her landlord and got the ok.
I ended up talking to the landlord for hours. She lives in an old farmhouse built in the 1800s. An older lady, she shared stories about the good old days, including a car fire that happened in the backwoods of her property, during her son's graduation party. She was laughing so hard that she could barely breathe, although she claims it wasn't funny at the time.

Then, there was a knock at the backdoor of the farmhouse. She opens the door and in walks this shivering kid with no shirt on, dripping sopping wet, out of breath, his soaked pants were barely hanging on to his slight frame. What the hell?
He says 'Hi Mrs. Slatery. It's Sam.' - it was a friend of her sons. He wanted to borrow some clothes.
Apparently, he had been hopping freight cars, and was spotted by the conductor. He told the conductor 'this is my stop' and jumped off the train. But not before the conductor called the police with a physical description of him.
Poor Sam was so spooked that he ran and crawled through swamps and fought his way through thickets and forests, then came out onto a road and realized that he was close to his friend's house.

He wanted to borrow a hat too, as a disguise.

I hear helicopters circling overhead, I ask Sam if that was for him.

'No' he said, 'I hope not anyway.'

Sam called a friend and the friend came and picked him up. I liked this kid, simply because he was hopping freight cars. To me, there is a certain romance in hopping freight cars, a pursuit of the fleeting. A desire to be 'mad'.

As I lay in my tent on the front lawn of the farmhouse, I heard another helicopter overhead. Maybe Sam did more than just jump off a freight car!!! I suppose I'll never know. I'll just remember his dripping shivering self sitting in the kitchen of a Vermont farmhouse.

Did you know Vermont has a Socialist senator? Yeah, neither did I. Apparently he's a legend in Vermont though, Bernie Sanders. Great name.
This girl I met in Montpelier said she saw him shot out of a cannon at a local event.
That's when you know you're famous, when they're shooting you out of a cannon.

I don't know much about Socialism, but I do know that Vermont is one of my favorite states so far. It is rustic and beautiful, the towns are very well-designed - having a modern look to them but small town feel - the people are friendly, health-conscious, open-minded, intelligent, and easy-going - it really is a great state.

I was flying down a steep Vermont hill on my way to New Hampshire, it was a beautiful fall day, when a gust of wind caught me. Upon last glance at my odometer I was traveling 38 mph. The gust of wind made my bike swerve, and almost took my hands off the handlebars. Luckily I was able to hang on and right the ship. I swerved the other way and eventually regained control, but needless to say it was a nervous few seconds.

And that is my random story of the day.

9.17.2007

Project Pedal

I'm in Conway, NH - 10 miles from the Maine border. Uno state-o left-o.

If you're bored at work, check this website out.

www.projectpedal.com

This guy Mike is making a documentary on bicyclists who ride across the country. I think they've finished filming and are now piecing it all together.

I had written him to be a part of the project but they ended up following some other guys.
At the time he was concerned that I was traveling alone, and if I got hurt then they'd have no one else to follow.

Anyway, there's some cool footage on there - I liked this one.

http://pedal.blip.tv/file/307224/

9.12.2007

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.

9.11.2007

Burlington, VT

I'm in Burlington, VT. Burlington is a great city! I kinda wish I would've gone to school here. Lots of coffee shops, hang outs, music venues. There's a brick street named Church St. that is closed to traffic and just has a bunch of shops and restaurants, sidewalk cafes. Has a European feel to it.

Spent 3 days in Lake Placid and had an amazing time hiking to the top of mountains, canoeing on lakes at dusk, seeing Olympic sights and a whole lot more.

I have 7 minutes left on this library session so I have to cut it short. I'll write more later. I have to buy a new tent here and send my old one back to REI. It isn't waterproof anymore, hasn't been since the flood in North Dakota, and I'm tired of dealing with puddles of condensation in the morning (not to mention rain). I've patiently dealt with it since North Dakota, although I'm not sure why!

I met this fabulous 'cyclist' named Daniel this morning on the shores of Lake Champlain, where I camped last night. Lots to tell about him, when I have more time.

Gotta run, hope everyone is doing well.

9.05.2007

Autumn is in the Adirondack Air

Feels like football weather! Where long-johns are appropriate and where winter hats warm cold ears, but what about the nose???

Tesla didn't work out, my lodging plans became dislodged and without a place to leave the bike I couldn't make it to the concert. Well, I could've, and then I could've returned to where I left the bike and found empty panniers or perhaps a few gang signals spray-painted on from the resident rowdy state-fair-goers who had been consuming Bud, Miller or Coors Light - take your pick! - since 10am.

Anyway, the past few days have been absolutely gorgeous. You could not wish for better weather. Not too hot, not too cold. Just right. The middle bear's porridge, if only goldilocks would leave it alone and not eat it all! If I had a bed I would tell her to stay out of there too, since beds are a precious commodity.

I slept behind the bathroom at Pixley Falls. Earlier in the evening I showered under Pixley Falls. Me and Dr. Bronners and the shivery-chilly-willies! Shoooeeee was that cold.

As I set up my tent, I couldn't help but sense a feeling of uneasiness. Nothing was wrong or out of place, it just didn't feel right. Was the bathroom haunted? The ghost of Camping Past telling me not to camp there? I laid there, eventually falling asleep, but was awakened throughout the night by various noises and shadows that eventually led me to move.
I got out of my tent and looked around. I heard the howl of a coyote in the distance. I saw the unmistakable glint of two animal eyes in the darkness at the edge of the open field near the woods.
It could've been a bear, it could've been a bunny, it could've been a coyote, it could've been a deer, it could've been anything. At that point I didn't care and moved down to across from the ranger's station, closer to the road. From there I slept better.
Although at various points I awoke to sounds of scurrying. Furtive burrowing movements beneath my tent. As I was moving my tent previously I had noticed a field mouse diving for cover into a crack in the bathroom wall. That explained some of the strange noises I was hearing.

And now that field mouse's cousins were having a field day beneath my tent!

Was it some kind of fort for them? The kind of forts that us children would create out of the living room furniture, much to the chagrin of our parents? The mice seemed to be having a ball and completely unaware of the fact that it was 2am and I was trying to sleep. Why, the nerve of these rascals! And where was Little Bunny Fu-Fu during all of this, wasn't he supposed to be picking these guys up and bopping them on the head? He must get Labor Day off too.

I thought back to when my brothers and I would make tents out of the living room furniture... what a great time that was. It made me wonder - why do we always want to be reminded of childhood memories? Whether it's hot cocoa after snow or forts in the living room or hot soup during fall football weather or even riding bikes - what is it about those memories that makes us wistfully reminisce? Why can't that playful innocence continue into adulthood? I suppose at some point we start taking things too seriously. We take on responsibilities and feel the burden of bills, we feel the fear, the insecurity, wondering if we're enough, if we're adequate, if we're a success, if we're loved.
It becomes a game of what-ifs and wonders, when previously my main concern at age 9 was whether or not both of my feet touched the pavement as I caught the football before falling into the neighbors grass.
How did we go from feet and football to fears and unclears?
There was a subtle change there, it most definitely happened and seems to have grown into a veritable chasm. I just wonder if it's something that gets lost. And if it is - is it something we can find? Perhaps it was always there and we just muddled it with things that don't mean anything to us.

My friend is thinking of getting a tattoo. The word means hopes and dreams in Italian. She doesn't want to forget them. Or, she wants to be reminded of them.
The band Keane has an album titled Hopes and Fears. We all hope and fear. And dream.
We dream of a better day, a tomorrow where dreams come true. Somewhere over the rainbow. Where skies are blue. We worry about tomorrow, we have weather forecasters providing the 10 day outlook, but what about today?

There is a saying - Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. Today is a gift. That is why they call it the Present.

What will I do in 16 days when I reach Bar Harbor? What do I want to be when I grow up?

There is a book called A Course In Miracles. In it, it talks about 'the holy instant'.
Woooops, you just missed it! Oh boy, there it went again. Annnd again. The instant is quick. Blink and you'll miss it. What if we could create our tomorrows by connecting a neverending string of holy instants? A collection of moments and todays. Today is yesterday's tomorrow...... how do you feel? Different?

Change takes action, so Do. Being is good too, but change requires doing. To quote Ben Stiller and the Dodgeball dudes - DO IT. Come on, do it.

I took a yoga class in Ashland, Oregon on my way up to Anacortes. The instructor was amazing, she was constantly encouraging us. On more than one occasion she came by and pointed out that my right foot was 'closed' - meaning it was pointing left of where it should be. She indicted that this was precluding the natural flow of energy and keeping me from fully moving into the stretch. Well, how do you do! I had no idea.
I've thought about that moment a lot. My right foot being closed off. We need to approach life and yoga with open right feet! Reminds me of the golf swing, how the slightest change can have the most profound impact. A little dab'll do you. It doesn't take much.
So make some changes. Figure out what you want, what you'd like, what your dreams are. Start fiddling with stuff. Open your right foot. Allow the energy to flow. See what happens. Make today your tomorrow.

9.02.2007

Leaving Home for the Home Stretch

Hi y'all -

I gotta run, to the state fair in Syracuse to see Tesla! Luckily my brother saw that they were playing and so I plan on going. Flashing myself back to the glory days of 1988. Here are some pictures, I didn't really have time to write any captions to them, maybe later...

Seems like people were a little confused why I'm in Rochester. I'm not done at all, Rochester was just a stop along the way, and also happens to be where I'm from.
A great chance to see my family and little nephew Jason. It's been a great few days, I forgot how much I love my family.
I'm leaving this morning for Syracuse, and then I head up through the Adirondacks, through Vermont and New Hampshire and eventually Maine.

Gold you are right - it is anti-climatic. To be home. And I'm sure it will be anti-climatic once I get to Bar Harbor. There will be a rocky shore, possibly a few people milling about on the beach, and I will jump in the cold cold ocean and smile. I will take a picture for sure. I'm not looking for a cheering crowd, never was. This was and is a personal journey, a chance to loosen things up a bit. I had breakfast with my good friend Father Dan in Buffalo last week. We had a great conversation as we always do, but at one point I likened this trip to an angioplasty. Just clearing out the clutter in my mind, body and spirit. To let things flow.
I do feel a flow to life that wasn't there before. This blessed sip of life, these streams of living water. Things seem more natural and relaxed, I don't feel like a salmon swimming upstream anymore, as I once did, a guy driving the wrong way down a one-way street.
There is a deep gladness that I think was always there, perhaps it was obscured by clouds or veiled in secrecy, impeded by society's various requirements and canned recipes for success. I just decided to grow my own, cook things up from scratch.
The book What Color Is Your Parachute talks about vocation being where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet. But what is the world hungry for? I'm sitting in my dad's basement listening to a song called Instrumental, by Jose Gonzalez. Sipping hot coffee, happy.

I have no idea what I'll do once I get to Bar Harbor, although that's becoming a frequently asked question. I will jump into the ocean, that's what I'll do.




My lifeguard friends.