Day 4

Cape Blanco St Pk, OR to Tugman St Pk, OR $26.59 :: groceries & campsite 74.55 mi :: 8.3 hr :: 39.9mph :: 8.7 mph :: 272.4 mi When I got back to 101 in the morning, there was a grey-haired, crooked-toothed guy coming south on a women’s Western Flyer with a backpack and front…

Day 3

Harris Beach St Pk, OR to Cape Blanco St Pk, OR $7.20 :: campsite & mailing keys back to Pete 69.83 mi :: 10.9 hr :: 34.7 mph :: 6.4 mph :: 197.8 mi At 7:30 AM, Brendan was already gone. I showered, ate, no hurry. Waved to Chris & Dave, on the road by…

Day 2

Prarie Creek State Park, CA to Harris Beach St Pk, OR 70 mi :: 127.8 mi Up a little after sun. Immediately went on a hike, the Revelation Trail. Excellent self-guided trail instructs using all senses but taste. Learned to ID Elderberry, Tan Bark Oak, Sword Fern, Black Huckleberry. Unsweetened muesli for breakfast (BF). Packing…

Day 1

Arcata, CA to Prarie Creek State Park, CA 57.8 mi :: 57.8 mi Awake early, feelings of fear subsided, esp. after talking w/ Dad. Beautiful day, enthusiastic start. Soon lose map from front pocket, ride back & forth searching but don’t find it. Spirit of exploration prevails, I don’t need it. Not used to the…

Day 0 – A Chapter

The posts following this one are my raw journals, written while on the trip. The journals didn’t cover my journey to the starting point, though, which was definitely part of the adventure. Later I started writing material for a book that included this, but I ran out of steam. Here’s an excerpt from that effort.

It’s creeping up on midnight in Arcata, California. The air is soft and cool when I step off the bus. “Thanks,” I tell the driver as he opens up the belly. “Can’t believe my ass is still awake,” he says. I put the seat and the bags on the ground, and pull on the box. I grunt and it thuds onto the street. “Well that shit sure looks heavy,” says the driver. He shakes his head a few times before leaving me. The girl who got off drives away. The little parking lot is empty. I grunt some more as I drag the box onto the sidewalk.

The bike

A recumbent bike seemed a foreign but enticing choice. The Self-Propelled Lazyboy is a road-burning throne of comfort. It is outfitted with huge Jandd panniers on the back, dynamo headlight, bumble-bee noisemaker, cadence computer, Andre the Giant sticker, and all sorts of doo-dads. My only concern so far is that it is too tail-heavy, but…

Why circle the country on a bicycle?

I want to explore. The desire for the ever new and ever different, the wildness and thrill of going where I haven’t been, lands me in situations where I don’t know how to behave. It gives me tales to tell and unkown terrain to point my life towards. Life becomes a land of tests that I stumble through, where folly is inevitible and survival is a delicious meal of remarkable moments. This is the latest manifestation of the urge that rules me.

There is a price to pay for such foolhardy pusuits. My parents have tried, in a very encouraging way, to warn me about the surprising splats the birds of adventure drop on such intrepid souls. One can wind up feeling very depressed sitting alone in the wilderness, covered with the ugly signs of failure, convinced that the powers of the universe have been provoked beyond forgiveness, while the bombs of hubris rain ever down. But I insist on venturing out, with hopes that you’ll help me along by laughing with me at my sufferings, and sharing my wonder at all that happens.