Gone are my days of westward movement. My bike is idle and my skin is no longer being cleaned by the wind and the sun.
The bike tour is over. For now. But there will always be another tour, another adventure, another place to be gettin' to--and this is a good and exciting thing.
For now, all I have are the memories, the muscles, and the tan lines. I was on the road with Kyle and Chris for twelve days and thirteen nights. We rode approximately 647 miles together, not that that really matters. Distance on the road is less important than time. And time on the road is a complex thing. The body is challenged. The days are supercharged with new matter for the mind. New material. New places. It's amazing what can happen when you get out there and start moving with sweaty muscles and thirsty lungs.
From the town of Monticello, we rode west. West toward Lake Powell and the Colorado River. West across the state of Utah, toward California and the setting sun. It was always west for Chris and Kyle, for they are westbounders on their journey across America. Riding west was sort of new to me, because my 2007 Cross-Country Bike Tour and Megatransect was an eastbound venture. But I dug going west, even if the sun was in my eyes late in the day.
West is a powerful word with a vast history, especially in America. Our country has a strong tradition with westward movement. We must remember that America was founded after several westbound, wind-powered sailing adventures.
And after the country was founded, the slow westward movement continued. Expansion into the unknown. Roads were hacked into the forests. New areas opened up. Towns were built beside roads and rivers and streams. Boats and horses and feet took people deeper into the West.
Lewis and Clark and the rest of their team made their explorations in the years 1803-1806.
The term Manifest Destiny was tossed around in the mid 1800s. We told ourselves we were destined to go west, and west we went.
The Gold Rush of 1849 made for more westward travels.
Railroads continued to be built. There was even talk of a transcontinental railroad.
Later, the Homestead Act was passed. After which, people had even more incentive to go west. The act was passed by Abraham Lincoln in 1862 in the midst of the Civil War when a dark and bloody curtain was drawn across our youthful country.
But the Civil War finally ended in the spring 1865. Lives were lost, but the West still stood, open and free. And it was was in July of 1865 that Horace Greeley wrote in the
New York Tribune: "Washington is not a place to live in. The rents are high, the food is bad, the dust is disgusting and the morals are deplorable. Go West, young man, go West and grow up with the country."
"Go west, young man, go west,"--those words have become part of the American culture, even if they do resonate with a terribly obvious sexism. What about the women! Those millions of homes and homesteads did not succeed by men alone.
"Go west, young man, go west,"--Chris and Kyle heard these words so many times that it became a running joke for them. The scene was usually the same: Chris and Kyle said they were biking cross-country, East Coast to West Coast. And then the person would hand over Greeley's words, saying "go west, young man, go west." At which point, Chris and Kyle would say--in their minds--
thank you very much for that Big C of a cliche! Thank you very little." Repetition is part of life, but it's easy to get tired of hearing the same thing over and over again. That sort of thing happens to all of us. Similar patterns often lead to similar vocalizations. But the truth is this: for every person, westward travel is really it's own adventure. The Road provides a unique experience for each traveler. And although there is great simplicity in those two lanes of blacktop, the Road can sometimes be confusing and random, like a freshman's notebook full of run-on sentence daydreams and messy physics equations.
The Road does different things to different people. For me, it brings out my love for the western lands of America and my pride in the good, honest, and hard-working Americans. It make me aim my camera and inspires me to pull out my notebook and my pen. And my road travels always get me thinking about the love that I have for my friends and family who are sometimes thousands of miles away.
It was a great honor and a great joy to ride with Chris and Kyle. I hadn't been on a bike tour with Chris for 4 years, and that was a streak that I was happy to see end. My brother is a great companion on the road. He sees the beauty. He finds the humor. And he appreciates the absurdities. He's confident with his criticisms. And he brings out the good in those he meets. Chris knows how to keep the costs low and the adventure high. He understands the gift of freedom and the great possibility of day-to-day adventure.
Now Kyle met my brother in college, and that's where they became friends, but it wasn't until this most recent bike tour that Kyle and I became friends. This was my first tour with Kyle and I'm sure it won't be the last. Kyle has a genuine love for the road, which is a very important quality for traveling. He understands the beauty and purity of bicycle touring. And his sense of humor and love for New York did wonders for our conversations. After Kyle's excellent briefing, I am now ready to go to Dani's Pizza in Queens and hand over $1.25 for the "recession special," a huge slice of New York Pizza.
To Chris and Kyle,
Thank you for accommodating me and letting me be part of your 2009 Cross-Country Bicycle Tour. The riding was great, the experiences were fantastic, but the company was even better.
And to all the rest,
Go West, good people, go West. Or go East if that is where your compass rose lands. Work hard. Or be still. Or take to the mountains, or to the cities, or to those dusty rutted roads of inner contemplation. Your road is your own, but your world belongs to everyone. Remember the words of Townes Van Zandt: "Some sail upon the sea, some toil upon the stone." Townes wrote the immortal song "To Live Is To Fly" and the whole world grew a little brighter and a little wiser. That's the magic of the ages, how one person's journey becomes another person's treasure. I treasure the words of that song and the words and melodies of many other writers. I treasure the great glowing gifts of Nature. I treasure the country I live in and the people I love. And when I leave the road for a time, I always try to reflect on the days gone by and remember to be thankful for the journey.
I had a great time staying with Mary and her three roomates. We had fun, ate good food, got to visit Ivan's family's ranch, and even happened to find a sweet jazz club: El Chapultepec. Below is a photo of Debbie in "the Pec."
After we left the Pec, we began our pizza mission. My pizza cravings had been building for weeks, and I was started to loose control. A pizza dought can be a painful thing. The first place was closed. Then we saw the following words flashing on a sign.
But that place was closed too. But Maps By Mary took us to an all-night pizza joint where the beer was cheap and the pizza was made divine by garlic goodness. I ate two pieces and then proclaimed, "I'm ready for another 3,000 miles."
