July 24 – The world is small
Kingston, Ontario. Mile: ?
Things can get confusing out here. I’m having breakfast in this little place in Kingston, ON and I saw “Seattle’s Best Coffee” on the menu. For just a second, I had too think about whether that’s local stuff or not. Not so much, I guess.
I’ve had people ask me if it’s a big country with knowing smiles on their faces. For them, the question is rhetorical. For me, the answer is, “no”. After more than 13.5k miles, Quebec City and Lansing, MI really are close. They’re only about 750 miles away — that’s two easy days. Close!
Last night, in Mallorytown, Ontario’s greasy dive, I was chatting with the young waitress about cell phone coverage. I mentioned that I was an American, and that I had been in Mexico recently. I compared coverage with Mexico and Canada. It wasn’t until later that I realized that might have been a weird thing to say.
In: Uncategorized · Tagged with: cross country, WTF?
July 23 – Existential Crisis
Quebec, Canada? Mile: ?
I love you guys. Honestly, I do. But if I had the money, I wouldn’t come back. I’d ride to Yellowknife, or to Mount McKinley, or to Florida. I’d go back to New York and book passage for me and bike to England. I’d visit Lanora, then ride through the Chunnel to France and beyond. It’s not that I’m thirsting for adventure, but rather because it’s better than the alternative.
I was in a little town halfway between Quebec City and Montreal called Trois Rivieres. I pulled off the highway for gas and to get off the bike for a spell. i had been getting sleepy from fatigue. I filled the tank and pulled around to the back of the building to take a breather.
As I sat next to the bike there on the curb, I despaired. Maybe I’ll just stop here. This is the end. The trip is over. I’m just going to lie back here onto the sidewalk and fall asleep and it will be done. No one know where I am. No one knows who I am.
An existential crisis.
And then, I realized what this had all become — a search for meaning. For a a while there a few weeks back, I thought I had been searching for home. If anyone or any place had given me a truly compelling reason to stay, I would. So romantic and wonderful., to undertake this odyssey, find a place and never leave. I’ve heard those stories on the road as long as I’ve gone, and I’ve envied every teller. “Home” was myopic, though. I was looking for any sort of direction out here. Something more than north, south, east, west.
And there on the sidewalk in Trois Rivieres behind the Esso, I realized I wouldn’t find it. I had those cardinal directions and nothing else.
If I were writing this novel, I’d do those things — a ship to Europe, 10 years on the road. In the end, I’d get the girl, save the orphan, and discover the meaning of life. But, I don’t have the steely resolve of those fictional heroes.
I am a stubborn motherfucker though. No richer, no poorer, in spirit or wisdom, I slowly lifted myself off that curb and started the bike.
In: Uncategorized · Tagged with: cross country, melancholy, theory
July 22 – Goddamn, MF’ing Maine!
Parc Nacional de la Jacques Cartier, outside Quebec, Canada. Mile: 13,093
My Montreal post got cut short in the notebook due to many urgent phone calls regarding my cousin and a great deal of unpaid rent.
Anyway, when I left Montreal, (the evening after a spectacular lunch of gaspacho, wild game sausages, and elk medallions) I went back to spend the night in New York State. After some deliberation, I elected to go to Maine. Big mistake.
Maine was one of the 11 states that I have yet to visit in my life (now 10), and I figured it was the one I’d be the least likely to get under any other circumstances. So, I rode east from Plattsburgh, NY. Around St. Johnsbury, VT, the rain started.
At first, it looked like the normal pain in the ass east coast precipitation that seems to fall 9 out of every 10 days east of the Mississippi. I kept thinking I could see the edge and that I could ride through it to the east. I thought that shit for the next 150 miles as the rain turned into one of the worst thunderstorms in which I’ve ever been. To make matters worse, the low beam headlight went out again, and I decided I better make for Portland, where I’d be most likely to find a Honda shop.
Maine is a piece of shit. The roadsigns are fucked, and the interior roads are all uneven. Finally, I fucking called it quits and pulled off into a motel about 50 miles outside Portland. The landlord told me they were having flood and tornado warnings. I told Maine to go fuck itself.
The next day, the sky had mostly cleared though I kept seeing dark clouds and hitting spotty downpours. In the sunlight, Maine is gorgeous, but when it rains, it can eat a dick. By the way, on the east coast, it always rains when I ride, so Maine often eats dicks.
After the repair, I opted to go north and see Quebec City. I got here late, so no checking out of the city as of yet, just a ride to a campsite. Tomorrow, it’s breakfast in Old Quebec, then I’ll try to make headway on the trip back to Michigan in the afternoon.
In: Uncategorized · Tagged with: cross country
July 20 – Montreal
Montreal, Canada. Mile: 12,435
Long time between posts. This is for a few reasons. Firstly, there just isn’t a ton to say about the Midwest – it’s flat and the weather is unpredictable. Looking back through the notebook, I see I haven’t even mentioned devil’s Tower, or the Black hills, or the Badlands, and I’m sure I haven’t finished my post about the sky. Crap, I haven’t even talked about Dan and Amy. Though I’ll be abck with them again next week. Also, I was back in NYC for HOPE.
The trip really felt like it was winding down in Michigan, then being back in New York really felt final. Heck, I even stayed with Steve and Rose on Sunday night.
For a moment, I considered not leaving Connecticut. I could start taking care of the things I need to start taking care of, and the couch is soooo comfy…
NO! Back on the road. I strapped myself to the mast and survived the sirens. Let’s talk about what’s recent, and I’ll recap the historical later.
I was under the impression that Montreal was an English-speaking town. No. This is a French-speaking town. In fact, it seems they know English as a courtesy, as everyone here has a thick accent. I’m thinking about heading up to Quebec city for a day where it will probably be even moreso. Why have I never been here? The city is beautiful, and it’s only like 350-400 miles away.
In: Uncategorized · Tagged with: cross country
July 8 – How long shall I go?
Moorcroft, WY. Mile: 9408
I’d always thought of Wyoming as part of the wild west, but that’s just not true. There are large swaths of it that are firmly Midwestern — with it wide open plains and volatile weather. I have to admit that the Midwestern landscape is brain-numbingly boring. I pat myself on the back again for skipping middle America. Maybe some other time…like when my life has become TOO goddamn exciting, and I need sometime to tone it down.
I’m on my way to Michigan and Dan and Amy, who will be the first to encounter me on the other side of 10,000 miles. The trip has suddenly gotten longer, again.
I decided to go to the HOPE conference in New York City, but the trip won’t be over by then. What to do? Go from Michigan to NYC for HOPE, then back to Michigan to see Dan and Amy again perhaps for a bit, then to Detroit to see the Leonards (my cousins – father’s side). Then, through Canada to Montreal, back down through Vermont, to Rob’s house for a day or two, then trip over. At this point, it’s almost comical to try to speculate on a total mileage. 13k, 14k, 15,000 miles? Looks like the total trip won’t be over until the end of July, though . How did I just tack on an additional month?
In: Uncategorized · Tagged with: cross country, WTF?
10,000 miles
Reliance, SD. Mile: 10002
10,000 miles. When I set out almost six weeks ago, I never fathomed I would go so far. I remember incredulously telling Mac that this trip might take eight or nine thousand miles, and now here I am at ten, and I’m still in South Dakota.
Christ, what a trip this is. Just goes to show what a man can do when he’s got nothing else to do.
In: Uncategorized · Tagged with: awwwwww shiiiiit, cross country
Whew!
Cheyenne, WY. Mile: 9028
I took the bike in for the chain this morning, and the guy looked at the bike and came back telling me I needed two new tires. Being from New York, I immediately thought, “Goddamnit, this guy’s trying to motherfuck me because I’m from out of town!!”
But he’s totally right, they’re both looking bad. Unfortunately, they didn’t have either tire in stock, so it looks like I might need to go to Fort Collins or Denver when I leave for tires. This shit is getting expensive!
In: Uncategorized · Tagged with: cross country
Stuck in Cheyenne
Cheyenne, WY. Mile: 9024
So, like I said, the bike’s chain has gone south and needs to be replaced. I called around and there ain’t a parts place in town that has a chain my size. Must be an irregular size – just my luck.
Anyway, I got that sucker overnighted, and I’m supposed to go in tomorrow to get it fixed, but either way I’m here until it’s fixed.
In: Uncategorized · Tagged with: cross country
July 2 – Roundup
Grand Teton National Park. Mile: 8557
Haven’t made an entry in a while, now there’s a backlog!
Where to start? The remains of the Pacific northwest? The Pac NW is definitely my kind of scene. I mean, if you want to roll lone wolf, you do it up there. There’s still a wilderness feel up there, and I’m sure it’s only moreso in the winter time.Looking at the thick evergreen forests and the hills and mountains quickly lends understanding as to how and why the LL Beans of the world got their start up there.
Mount Rainiier was spectacular. There are a few “scenic byways” upon which to travel. I entered the park in the north, which I think is the back entrance, and spoke with the ranger.
“Now, this pass will give you access to the entire park.”
“How far up are the trails?”
“It’s just 5 miles up to Sunrise, and about 20 if you want to go to Paradise.”
My first thought was to ask, “What’s in Paradise?” but the answer seemed too obvious. Besides, to paraphrase the Ghostbusters, if someone asks you if you want to go to Paradise, you say YES.
At the base of the Sunrise Valley byway, there was a sign that marked the road “OPEN”. Being from the east I thought, “Well duh, why wouldn’t it be open?” I learned why about 4000ft up. There was still snow every-goddamn-where. In fact, it looked like they had plowed as early as 2 weeks prior. WTF. Summertime is hard to find in this country.
Paradise? Well yes, of course. Paradise is the “inspiration point” for the south face, Rainier’s most dramatic vista. It is, of course, wonderful. This huge, snow-capped peak looms over you, so brilliant and imposing. Mount Rainier was so great, I lost track of time and had to postpone Cheyenne for a day — I didn’t make enough distance.
You will not believe what I am to say, but you must will yourself to do so! It is fact! The unbelievable truth? Idaho is awesome!! I couldn’t believe it myself! I mean, c’mon, who gives two shits about Idaho?
Admittedly, Boise is whatever, and the first 50 miles of the west is kind of shitty, but the interior! Oh, it’s like the succulent heart of an artichoke (or something)! Beautiful grassy plains bordered by verdant mountains! As I rode, I could smell everything. The grass, the pine from the trees, the roadside flowers — for some reason, Idaho is just so fragrant.
Now that I’ve set the table, I was in Idaho for a singular purpose — to visit Ernest Hemingway’s gravesite in Ketchum, ID. In case you had forgotten, Papa is not to be fucked with. I was thinking that Ketchum was going to be some little frontier town of little to no note. Turns out, Ketchum and its sister towns, Bellevue, Hailey, and Sun Valley are all ski resorts at the base of the Sawtooth Mountains. Ketchum is as quaint and modern a town as you’re likely to see, and it was bustling with summer vacationers as well.
I stayed in the rustic Best Western and went down to a lodge-type grille, where I had a very good steak, a vanilla bean creme brulee, 3 porters from a local brewery, and a barbarian boarder (jaeger & tequila) to top it all off.
At sunrise the next day, I rode out to Hemingway’s grave, put a penny on his and Mary’s markers, then toasted Papa with a shot of whiskey from my flask. As I swallowed the gulp, I looked down to realize that today was July 2nd — the anniversary of his suicide (July 21, 1899 – July 2, 1961). I took another shot.
So, now I’m on my way to Cheyenne to see James and Nay-dizzle. Per Dan’s advice, I looped around to go through Yellowstone. Again, you may be incredulous, but I didn’t get much out of it. Honestly, I’m sure it’s because Yellowstone is SO heavily traveled, and it’s July 4th weekend, which makes it worse. Nevertheless, I cruised through about a quarter of the Park, then made my way to Grand Teton.
Grand Teton? Now that‘s a Park! Tremendous sharp mountains standing high over a clear lake. The vista seemed very Swiss, like I oughter be in the Alps or somesuch.
Crap, there’s so much I’ve left out. No mention of Craters of the Moon, no mention of the dude in Ketchum who loved the town so dearly, no mention of the guy at Mount Rainier who was motorcycling from Ft. Lauderdale to Homer, Alaska. Ah well, I guess it just means I’ll have more stories you haven’t heard next time I see you.
In: Uncategorized · Tagged with: awwwwww shiiiiit, cross country, good day
June 28 – Me and you
Ravensdale, WA. Mile: 7225
Two major milestones today. One: I have reached, for all intents and purposes, the northern terminus of the trip — Seattle. I may still go to Montreal, which may lie on a more northerly latitude, but I consider Montreal to be the eastern terminus, truthfully. Two: 7000 miles logged, basically implying a 10k mile trip since it’s at least 3k back to NYC from here. Hell, there’s a good shot for 11k, actually.
The Pacific northwest is beautiful. It is basically one huge dense forest from Sacramento on up. It’s not like the south, though each is equally lush. Down south is more like a jungle, as I said. But maybe that’s because of the heat and the humidity. Nevertheless, the Pacific northwest is a forest of profound depth and quiet solemnity.
It is sometimes difficult to undertake this trip alone. Not necessarily because I get lonely on the road as such, as I’m the lone-wolfest lone wolf you’ll find. But rather of the things I wish I could share with you. Yes, you specifically. There is not a single one of you that I have not thought of individually at one time or another and thought to myself, “Oh, wouldn’t X love this!”
Here, outside of Seattle, a delightful serein had started with the fire dying and the s’mores eaten. I went down the road to wash my hands, and as I came out of the bathroom, the clouds at my back brok on the horizon, and setting sun washed an orange glow just upon the treetops ahead of me.
As i stepped out of the door onto the lawn, there was a rainbow, bright against the dark clouds above. I laughed and looked around. I wanted to point it out to the next passerby, but I was alone there. I stood watching as the sun quickly set, hoping someone would happen by to share this moment. Just then, I heard the bathroom door swing back open and an old man emerge. But as I turned back, the sun had set, and the rainbow was gone.
In: Uncategorized · Tagged with: cross country, melancholy