Full-Time Friend Update

There comes a time, in the midst of an adventure, when it becomes necessary to stand back and take stock. The Full-Time Friend mission has been going on for over two months. I've been working hard to maintain and strengthen the bonds of friendship, but there's always room for improvement. Being a friend is hard work, but it must be done. I need to stay organized, focused, and nimble. I write this down mainly for myself, as a reminder, and also as a way for me to renew my commitment to the ones I love.

This adventure is large and multifaceted. I feel I could easily get lost inside it--and there's been times when I feel like I have, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. But, at the same time, it's good to have the proper perspective. And so I set down this post, like a neon marker in the forest, so it will be easier for me to find my way home.

The bike tour has ended but there is still more traveling to be done and more Full-Time Friending to conduct. Where shall I go? Wherever the winds of Friendship lead me, I suppose. I'll be home for a time, but then I'll be heading back out, to travel some more and visit some friends that I don't get to see that often.

One of the goals of this mission is to level my friendship balance. Location matters, it really does, but I must not let location (or convenience) dictate the quality of my friendships. If a friend moves far away, why should I spend less time with him or her? Well, the obvious answer is that it takes more work to visit a friend who is farther away. More work is usually seen as being undesirable. I must avoid this trap.

Of course there are other tools for staying in contact. Phone calls and emails are two of my favorites. Facebook is also popular with many of my friends--and some friends have tried to get me to join--but I'm not joining. I've thought about this for a while, and I'm sticking by my choice. I don't care how popular it is. I have no need for it. Not now. Not on this mission.

I'm not too keen on the way Facebook uses friendship as a marketing and networking tool. Advertisements tend to bother me, which is one reason I enjoy posting content on this blog. There are no adds here, dear Reader, to punish your eyes or deflate your funding. You already have everything you need. Don't let anyone try to tell you otherwise. Don't let the advertisers and the businesses dip their greedy little hands into your bank accounts. They will continue to try--and some of their attempts are quite good, while others are quite laughable--but don't let them get in there.

I learned a long time ago that not spending money is almost the same as making money and then spending it. I also noticed that money lasts longer when you spend it slowly. The Slowest Spender, that should be my new shopping nickname. Although. . . I take that back. The slowest spender is too ambiguous. It makes me think of someone swiping a credit card really slow, like a slow motion scene from a Wes Anderson film. I'll just stick with being a cautious spender, because I really do need to be careful in order to make my money last.

I don't like worrying about money when I'm on the road. I rather focus on the people and the places and the million little details of life. But money makes traveling possible, at least the way I travel, and so I set these words down, again, more as a reminder to myself than anything else.

So I will save my money and spend my time--that's fine with me. Time is my secret weapon. I've stockpiled a lot of it this summer, which is good, because full-time friending necessitates a decent about of time.

The idea of being a full-time friend actually came to me a few years ago when I was staying up late and writing emails. I realized, that night, how much time it actually takes to stay in touch with people. Letters, phone calls, visits--these things take time. How much time? Well, I pondered, a seriously committed full-time friend could probably fill a regular-sized work week with friending activities, especially if one's family is included in the world of Friendship. And why not? The members of my family are my oldest and closest friends. Late at night, when I'm thinking in the quiet of my room, I sometimes think about the dedication of my first book, and how I would word it, for my family would most surely have to be mentioned there.

Now, the publishing of my first book is probably a long while off (I'm not being negative, just realistic), so I might as well get some thanking done now. It's late. It's quiet. And it's time to thank.

Thanks to all my family and friends. I am very lucky to have so many fine companions on this journey of life. And a special thank you to my parents, Monica and Steven, my brother Chris and my sister Janice, and to my grandparents: Donald and Anna Mae, and Michael and Margaret. I love you all more than words can tell.

Yosemite Photographs

Time has passed since the last post. I'm back in Maryland now, but Yosemite Valley is still on my mind. The Valley is hard to forget. It's one of my all time favorite places, and over the years I've invested a good about of time there.

I'm glad Jake and I made the pilgrimage to Yosemite this summer. That's really what it felt like. We traveled from Jake's home in Longmont, CO to Yosemite Valley. It was a necessary journey. And I'm grateful that our friends met us there. We had a great time hiking, climbing, camping, swimming, and enjoying the long days of summer.

Yosemite holds a very special and unique place in my life. I first saw the Valley in the year 2000, on my first bike tour. I fell in love and I knew I'd be back. I came back in 2003, 2006, 2008, and 2009. It's just one of those places. For those of you that have been there, you know what I'm talking about.

Below are 33 photos from my most recent trip to Yosemite. I took a lot of photos this summer, but that's normal for me. I honor and enjoy the world around me through writing, photography, and observation. It took a while, but I went through my newest batch of Yosemite photos and picked out some of the ones I liked the best. As always, I can't wait to go back!

The Last Days of the Bike Tour (With Photos From Nevada and California)

Well it's time to post some photos and get caught up on the storytelling. This is a long post, so I've broken it up into two parts.

Part 1
Jackson To Reno

At this point in the story, Jake and I were in Jackson, Wyoming. Now the original plan was to bike across Idaho and hitchhike across Nevada, but we were having such a great time in Jackson, it was hard to leave. So we stayed there for almost one week.

Taking extra days in Jackson made me somewhat worried about getting back on track and finishing the tour, but Jennifer had a car. And a car is a powerful device when there's hundreds of miles of highway to travel.

Now biking and driving are two very different worlds, and it felt odd to go from one to the other, but like I said, that was always our plan. This was a hybrid tour. We expected to have to hitchhike, but Jennifer said she'd take us the whole way to Reno, so we wouldn't have to hitchhike. And that's exactly what she did.

On the morning of July 7, Jennifer, Jake, and I left Jackson and headed west. The bikes were in the car. Jennifer had her camping gear. We flew up and over Teton Pass and didn't even break a sweat. I was looking forward to savoring the uphill, and taking lots of photos, but we crested the top and kept flying. That's the way it goes when you're in a car. Cars are fast. And faster travel usually comes at the expense of seeing less. The mind can only gather so much information at one time. And if you're in the driver's seat, well then it's even harder to take it all in. But our drive wasn't about seeing every hill and flower; it was about getting to Reno at the proper hour so that Jennifer could drive home in time for work.

But even with a strict traveling schedule, the world still forced us to slow down. Craters Of The Moon National Monument, in Idaho, was a place we knew we had to check out. So we stopped and explored the hardened lava fields and the caves.





We drove on, counting miles and making plans. That night we reached Reno. The casino lights called out to me with all the potential and power of nighttime in America. I was reminded of Vegas, that pinnacle of the gambling world, and my first big bike tour.

We walked into our hotel, a huge monstrosity of a place, and I heard the crazy melodies of the slot machines. The madness crept toward me from all sides and I accepted it. I had the urge to gamble, the urge to stay up late, the urge to run around and see as much as I could.

We checked in, took the elevator, and found our room. I opened the mini bar, just to be see what they had. I soon discovered that they had sensors on the bottles. I put back the bottle I was holding. I called the front desk, to say that I didn't even want that little bottle of vodka that I had picked up--I was just looking at it. "Oh, you'll be fine sir," said the voice in the phone. "If you pick it up and put it right back it doesn't charge you."

"Well thank goodness for that," I said. I was on guard. No extra charges. And besides, we didn't really need the mini bar. Once Jake came back, we had a couple cold six packs of PBR. I opened a beer, finished the rest of my bean burrito, and waited for Jake and Jennifer to get ready. I decided to save my shower for the morning. I had a good dirt buzz going and I thought it might be good luck.

Down to the gaming floor. The absurdity of gambling was obvious to me from the very beginning--I knew the odds were not good--but that didn't stop me hitting the slots. With a cup of strong coffee in my hand, I cruised around the carpeted floors of the casino looking for the right machine.

Jennifer and I played the penny slots. I put in one dollar. Jake kept watch over our shoulders. We won a little and lost a little more. I spent 25 cents, cashed out, and got my 75 cents back.

I kept this up for a while: put in one dollar, spend a few cents, cash out, take that money, find another machine. I found the mechanical machines to be more enjoyable than the digital ones. I moved up to the quarter machines for a time. One play on each machine. Play. Cash out. Move on. I won seven bucks. We left the casino, searching for some late night pizza. But all the pizza places were closed. I was pissed. "Are you kidding me? No late night pizza? What the hell is wrong with this town?" So we settled on a bottle of cheap champagne.

The bright light streets of Reno were mostly empty at two o'clock on a Thursday morning. Most of the people were inside the casinos. We were part of the bare bones late night gambling crew. Gotta play to win. Gotta play to loose. And loose they did. I could see it in their eyes. People with grey hair and gold jewelry, pounding the slots, smoking cigarettes. The El Doroado wasn't crowded, but it was making money.

The next morning we treated ourselves to the breakfast buffet. Then we said goodbye to Jennifer and watched her drive away. Jake and I were back on our own. We packed our rigs and wheeled them through the casino. We got someone to take our photo. Then we started biking. It felt like a new bike tour. The land was different. The heat was stronger. And Yosemite was closer than ever.

Part 2
Reno to Yosemite

It took us six days to ride from Reno to Yosemite Valley. They were a great six days, a perfect way to end the tour. The locomotion was fine. The sun was strong. And the scent of the Sierra Nevada was all around us.

From Reno we rode up and over the mountains. Up and over at a place called Mt. Rose Summit. It was 4,5o0 feet of elevation gained. It was one of the biggest climbs of the entire tour and it totally surprised me. It came on hard and punished me like a bottle of Carlo Rossi. A never-ending uphill. A sore mind. Feeling sick and dehydrated. Too much beer the night before and too little sleep. I kept drinking my water. My energy was low. I stayed in my lowest gear and just oozed my way up the mountain. And then, the top. My shirt was sweaty and the wind was cold. I put on all my clothes, for I knew a long downhill was coming.

We let go of the brakes and flew downhill toward Lake Tahoe. A long, fast downhill, almost 20 minutes of flying. In the distance, past the tree tops, I saw part of the huge lake. It was sitting like a great silver shadow on the land.

The monster downhill ended. We stopped on the Nevada side of the lake to see about camping. The sun was setting. It didn't look good. No camping. So we biked on over to the California side, and kept searching. It was turning out to be one of those nights. The kind where campsites are talked about but never actually found. I wasn't worried, but I was getting hungry. All the little stores and restaurants were lit up. Vacationers were strolling. Kids were roaming in packs. We stood in the darkness out front of the 7-11, waiting for some bus or trolley that might hold the answer on where to go. Then a car pulled up. A man and a woman were inside, eating ice cream cones. "You guys looking for a place to camp?"
"Yeah."
"There's a place right down the road. I'll tell you how to get there."

And that was our lucky break. The directions were perfect. The campsite still had a few extra spaces. And dinner tasted amazing.

From Tahoe we rode south, riding along the lake and underneath the big pines and cedars. There were beaches and stores and homes and docks. Here are some photos:






And then we left Tahoe. We went up and over Luther Pass. The Death Ride was happening--a total coincidence--and we rode along, passing thousands of other cyclists. We talked with some. Some were too tired to talk. I had heard about the Death Ride before. It's a tough ride, seriously tough: 125 miles, 15,000 feet of elevation, and 5 passes--all in one day! Our route overlapped with the last part of the Death Ride, so people were cheering as we rode by. Jake talked about coming back next year and doing the whole ride.


From the town of Markleville (which is where the Death Ride begins and ends), we continued south, up and over Monitor Pass. Then another awesome and tremendous downhill, with the far-reaching lands of California and Nevada in the distance:


At the bottom of the downhill, we turned right onto 395. We followed 395 all the way down to Bridgeport, which is where we met these PCT thru-hikers:

Left to Right: Whiskey Jet, Backtrack, Jake, Meghan (sitting), me, and Amanda.

We stayed at this crazy old hotel with these thru-hikers and had fun talking the night away. Jake played the organ. There was talk of ghosts, but we didn't see any that night.


The next day found us feasting on the World Famous Pizza of the Whoa Nellie Deli, which is inside the Tioga Gas Mart, a not-to-be-missed gas station oasis on the east side of Yosemite National Park, not far from Mono Lake.

Photos of Mono Lake:

Around 5 p.m. we packed away the extra pizza and got back to work as we stared biking up Tioga Pass, a beautiful 13-mile uphill.

The climb begins.

Looking down at the road we came up on:

The top of the pass is the gateway into Yosemite National Park. We entered the park and accepted our reward: a fast downhill all the way to Tuolumne Meadows, with the golden light of the sun setting on the mountains. This was the Sierra! One of my favorite places in all the world! Ah yes, it was a fine thing to be back among the wondrous lands of the Sierra Nevada! Our time in Yosemite had begun.