My first trip would be to ride my bike across the country on the TransAmerica bicycle route. I flew to coastal Virginia on May 12th on a one-way ticket. The first day of riding, I got soaked to the bone by driving rains and camped under a rural roadside Baptist church under their carport. I told the local Sheriff all would be ok after he checked in on me. “Welcome to bike touring,” I thought. I woke up sick as a dog and struggled mightily through the heat, humidity and grueling hills of Virginia. I hit absolute rock bottom for fatigue. I had packed too much weight and I was paying the penalty. Still, I pushed on.
In eastern Kentucky I saw extreme poverty, confederate flags and got chased by dogs every 5-10 miles. The dogs were so severe I teamed up with two other riders for safety and wouldn’t have dared do otherwise. One girl we knew got bit and went to a hospital for care. Here, I saw my family and cherished time with my Mother who would lose her battle to cancer 6 months later. A former student and longtime friend Tristan joined my trip.
A long time friend drove from St Louis and picked us up in southern Illinois. We spent a couple of days visiting him and escaping the heat. We rode the “Katy Trail,” an old railroad line now made into a gravel statewide bike route. Missouri was hot and full of ticks, snakes and stories.
In Kansas, the forecast was 106 degrees statewide for the entire next week. This led to the excruciatingly tough decision to hop on a 3 am Amtrak train and wake up in rural Colorado. After riding 40 or so miles in still extreme heat, we hitchhiked with a female police officer to the town of Pueblo. Tristan asked her out and was denied. The Rockies were stunning per usual and a welcome change of scenery and temperature. One day, I was convinced I would drown on the mighty Arkansas River while taking a side trip in a personal raft with a random guy Tristan and I met at the rafting outpost. Tristan flew home from Denver and I continued on.
Wyoming was long, desolate, lonely and extremely windy. Leaving Rawlins, WY it was so windy I considered turning around and getting a hotel. Maybe, I should have. The following 12-15 hours were undoubtedly the most difficult of the entire trip and perhaps, of my life. At one point, I was on flat ground pedaling in my easiest gear and only managing 4mph. It was such a difficult experience I now think about any difficult task at hand as being easier than this day in rural Wyoming.
Montana was simply beautiful, quiet and lovely. By then, I was seasoned and toughened by life on the road. The trip was finally taking form to fit something I had perhaps expected, or hoped for. It was still hot and buggy but I was in the groove.
Idaho began with a 107 mile day nearly ALL downhill along a pristine creek, leaving the high elevations of the Montana mountains. Motivated to see my girlfriend and accommodate the only time she could come visit I put my head down and raced across Idaho. It took me only 5 days. Oh, the power of love!
Increasingly predictable heat and smoke welcomed me into the Beaver State, but I was locked in too tough by then to care too much to notice. I spent a few wonderful days with my girlfriend in Baker City, OR happy to be reunited. Furthermore, my friend Matt surprised me by meeting me in a small town in eastern Oregon and brought my beloved dog to visit me. I had no dry eyes seeing them both.
Astoria, Oregon is the conclusion of the route and welcomed me with a rare bluebird day 80 days after leaving the Atlantic Ocean and rich history of Yorktown, VA. I was skinny, sunburned and stoked. I felt happy, proud, accomplished and at the same time deeply burdened by my Mom’s health. The trip isn’t an escape of reality but a journey INTO it.
Every single day from coast to coast strangers were warm, kind and welcoming to me. I saw the rising tension of the upcoming election in yard signs in alternating blue and red states but never once felt it interacting with folks. The Universe provided for my needs often times in the funniest of ways that left me smiling and encouraged.
Of course, the trips are so much more than bicycle tours. They are attempts at grandiose, life-changing experiences only possible to me for an unknown length of time. They are about my internal journey to sobriety, wellness and being my truest self. They are an avenue to growth and redemption of lost time. They are a peaceful fight against the inevitable and a symbol of many things larger than myself.
I had crossed the country and confronted myself. Part one of a three-part mission is now complete.
Id really like to give a shoutout to “adventure cycling” for creating all three of the routes for my big trips
