Hi all
Introduction….
I have been very flattered that so many people seem to have been interested in my Blog. This though puts pressure on me, in this final entry, to repay that interest.
From Yorktown, VA ......
 ...... to Anacortes, WA |
Indeed, some memories have gone completely, and as I look through my notebook I am alarmed that I have absolutely no recollections of lots of places I have been through. Worrying! - what was Eureka, Kansas like? or Marshfield, Missouri? or many other of my days’ destinations? Other memories, by contrast, are pin-sharp: the gasp of astonishment at the first sight of the Teton mountain range, fleeting eye contact with a deer, dancing fireflies outside my cabin close to Lincoln’s birthplace memorial, the first bite into a toasted BLT sandwich at a lunch-time café-stop…… and so on. (For completeness, I have to mention some – also pin-sharp – memories that are negative: the genuinely stomach-knotting sense of fear I had when Gary Usrey left me alone at Yorktown, as well as the fear of the one thunderstorm I rode through, in Illinois: the apparently infinite numbers of mosquitoes in parts of northern Colorado and Wyoming; horseflies biting me through my lycra shorts….)
First view of the Teton mountain range
Storm coming (though not the one I rode through!)
Trying to find some structure for my thoughts, though, it seems to me my journey has had three aspects: about me, about cycling, and about America.
Me….
First then - and without wearying readers with a lot of narcissistic and introspective guff - what have I learnt about myself? The first answer is a paradox. I have been fine being on my own for three months. But at the same time I have depended heavily on daily contact with Janet, the family, and close friends back home. Daily emails from me to them (and to very close friends), plus countless skype calls from J, and the children, plus so many emails of support and encouragement from others, have kept me going. The second is that I really do like people! That may seem an odd thing to say, but the delightful fact is that virtually every conversation with a stranger – be it in a motel, in a grocery store, in a restaurant, or with a fellow-cyclist – has left me smiling and feeling good. (I guess that the number of folk who have irritated me across the entire journey would number less than ten.) 
Good folk in a cafe in Golconda, Illinois
Third, the fact of depending for three months on the clothes I have carried in my panniers and bar-bag (basically, two sets of cycling kit, and for evenings two T-shirts, one pair of shorts, and one pair of shoes) makes me question all the ‘stuff’ I have in drawers and cupboards back home. (But will I take any action in response to such questions????)
Empty Kansas
Majesty in the Rocky Mountain National Park (with Julia and Ben)
Finally (and I owe thanks here to my new cycling buddies and friends ‘TransAm’ Mike and Joan from Cincinnati, Ohio), I have learnt how important it is to concentrate on the ‘now’. Each day is indeed a gift. So this day, and this moment, are there to be enjoyed, and not ignored and wished away by worries about the future. (Easy to say, but very hard to put into practice….!)Cycling….
What then about cycling?
Well, this journey has confirmed my love of it. A bicycle is a wonderfully efficient machine, and being on a bike is a great way to travel. I am part of the world I am going through; seeing it, smelling it, hearing it, feeling it. (And one can stop to wonder at its beauty (and to take a photo!) almost anywhere along the road.) Add to that the satisfaction of using my own energy to climb that mountain pass and then to enjoy going down the far side, and the contentment of arriving at my destination at the end of a day’s riding, despite feeling weary and hungry. And add too the encounters one has along the way; these in my experience are made easy by the fact that other people seem not to perceive cyclists as a threat, but as curiosities whom it is natural to help and encourage.Whoever you meet, you are simply a cyclist. Age, race, social status – they don’t matter. That is especially true with other cyclists, and the camaraderie you have with them is instant and uncomplicated.The best encapsulation I have seen of the joy of cycling comes in the Blog that my buddy ‘TransAm Mike’ is writing about his own journey. He has kindly given me permission to reproduce it, and I do so, with grateful thanks, in the Annex.
Mike and JoanAmerica….
And what have I learnt about America?I need here to emphasise a massive health warning….. Remember that my knowledge previously was based on sketchy history and a boyhood diet of American rock ‘n roll and TV programmes and films. Moreover, on this journey I have followed, for a mere three months, only a very thin ribbon of road across a vast continent, and touching only ten States out of fifty; so I have only just begun to scratch a very small part of the surface of a huge and complex society.First, there is astonishing beauty in the landscape and terrain. My photos have, in a very limited way, given some indication of this.
The beauty of Lake Savage, Montana
Full moon rising at Mazama, Montana
Second, although I knew in my head that it is a BIG country, I am in awe at its vastness – not just its overall size, but the scale of its mountains, lakes, rivers and plains. And the vastness of God’s creation here seems to make some Americans crave bigness in what they have and make. So towns sprawl in ill-defined strip mall development. Civic buildings in the larger towns I have been through are massively imposing. Servings of food can be mountainous (as, sadly, are many of the people who eat them). (And don’t get me going again on the size of some RVs….! )Third, as for the people, I am delighted that the stereotype I had of Americans has been disproved countless times. Far from being arrogant, bigoted, intolerant and insular, the overwhelming majority I have met have been kind, generous, patient, interested and open-hearted. (I know I have mentioned this previously in the Blog, but the way that several times motorists have waited for me on the road to ask if I need water, energy drink, or an apple typifies this spirit.) Indeed, I have been helped by many angels.
Tom and Nancy outside their lovely B&B in Sterling, Kansas
What’s more, I have never felt personally threatened or at risk (albeit I recognise I was never in inner cities, where I might have felt very different!), and on the roads I found motorists (even the much-feared coal- and timber-truck drivers) to be patient and considerate towards this slow and heavy-laden cyclist. (Would that one could say the same about the pestilential dogs, and their owners, in Kentucky and Missouri. I knew of three fellow cyclists who were bitten by these uncontrolled dogs, and two of them I met.)I would add to these characteristics a spirit of enterprise and hard work. My best example of this is the (Asian) Indian couple, with a three year old boy, who own the gas station and convenience store (as well as the trailer in which I stayed for the night) at Muddy Gap in Wyoming. The place is little more than a road junction, in the middle of nowhere. The couple run it, without help, seven days a week, from 7 am to 9 pm. I asked the husband what had brought him to Muddy Gap; “Business opportunity” was his reply. I guess the same kind of reply to such a question would have been given by anyone setting off westwards on the Santa Fe or Oregon Trails in, say, 1860….. 
I was very close to these different trails in WyomingOf course the United States is not paradise. This Blog has recorded my discomfort at uncovering some of the dark side to the history of relationships with the American Indians.
The road to the site of the Sand Creek MassacreI was depressed by the poverty of eastern Kentucky. Also in the east, for example in Virginia, I was puzzled and disturbed as to why (admittedly a very few) homes still fly the Confederate Flag. And I am very conscious that the history of slavery has British fingerprints all over it, as well as American ones. 
Poster at Lincoln Birthplace Memorial, KentuckyDisturbingly, albeit only very occasionally, I heard with my own ears that the deep political divisions in this country extend into personal hatred. (In one conversation I was told that America is more deeply divided now, simply by the fact of having a black President, than at any time since the Civil War….)And that so many people, in the 21st century and in the world’s largest and most developed economy, can hold Creationist beliefs is to me unfathomable.Nor can I comprehend the mindset of the ‘right to bear arms’, enshrined in the Constitution’s Second Amendment. Seeing guns in a store, or hearing the crack of rifle fire from target practice on a Sunday morning, was always a physical shock.But overall, my impression of this great country is the great people it has, and the greatest pleasure of this journey has been meeting such kind and generous people. Thanks….
I am hugely grateful to them.
I am hugely grateful to you all for following my little adventure and supporting me.
Special gratitude to Jamie and Gary Usrey for providing their home in Arlington, Virginia, as my launchpad, and to Sue Frank in Mill Creek, Washington, for being there for the splashdown (as well as for the extra driving she did in rescuing me when my little butt problem laid me low, and then taking me back to Marblemount so I could resume the ride).
And, as I’ve already said, I couldn’t have done it without the almost daily contact with and encouragement from Janet, Julia – to whom particular thanks for adding photos to the Blog - and Ben, Sara and Rhys, Beth and Shane, and Simon and Susie.
The Stroke Association….
I have been absolutely delighted at people’s generosity to The Stroke Association. 74 people have sent donations via JustGiving, and – amazingly! – the £4000 target I had hoped to reach (excluding tax rebates) was passed last week. Just brilliant; thank you to all who have been so generous. (I have tried to send an email to every contributor, and I apologise if I have failed in individual cases….)The benefit The Stroke Association has gained is a superb additional benefit from my journey.Signing off
Thank you, everyone, for your support. If my musings have been of interest, then that too is a positive. But now my journey is complete, and the long-dreamed adventure has not only come true but exceeded expectations. What now? Well, back to’normal’ life (whatever that may be!). But that doesn’t, mustn’t, mean the end of dreaming. As Joni Mitchell sang in “The Circle Game”, There’ll be new dreams – maybe better dreams – aplenty
Before the last revolving year is through……Thank you, and good wishes to allSincerely, Ken
________________
Stats and stuff
For those interested, here are some bald facts and figures…..
Total miles
4283Longest day mileage 95 Shortest day mileage 22 Average day mileage 59.5
Cycling days 72 Total hours pedalling 366 Average daily hours pedalling 5 No of pedal turns (estimated) 1.3 million
Average speed 11.7 mph Maximum speed 40.1 mph Minimum speed 2.7 mph (depressing when you’re climbing at such a low speed!!)
Highest elevation reached 11,539 feet (Hoosier Pass) Total ascent (estimated) 168,500 feet (or 5.8 times the height of Mt Everest)
Highest cycling temperature 108F/42C (shade temperature one afternoon in Kansas) Lowest cycling temperature 37F/3C (early morning departure, near Teton mountain range – bitter!)
Rain while riding About 1.5 hours (amazing, in 366 hours of cycling!!)
Bike issues 2 punctures. Replaced: 1 inner tube, 1 tyre, 1 chain, 1 set disc of brake pads
Health matters 3 Ibuprofen taken. Nothing else (amazingly fortunate!!)
Motels stayed in 49 (and all were satisfactorily clean…)
Best moment? First view of the Teton mountains Worst moment? Getting completely lost on Day 2, from not concentrating on my map
Bike details (briefly) Condor Heritage steel-framed tourer (from Condor Cycles, the best bike shop in London); 3x8 speed Campagnolo Mirage gears; Avid mechanical disc brakes; Brooks ‘Professional’ saddle; Ortlieb panniers and bar bag.
________________
Annex: Why go cycle touring?
As noted above, the following is from my friend Mike Weingarten’s (‘TransAm Mike’s’) Blog, and reproduced with his kind permission. It is written in the context of cycle touring in the USA, but applies equally wherever you might be. And if what he expresses, and my Blog, have inspired anyone to take up cycle touring, then, hey, go for it!Mike's blog is well worth following: “The joys of bike touring remembered
Wednesday June 22, 2011
People who travel by bike KNOW all the good things that the cycling experience brings. They KNOW why they do these extended bicycle trips, even as non-cyclists shake their heads in amazement and sometimes bewilderment. But knowing it is different from feeling it. When we're out on a bike tour, we FEEL the experience. When we are home, it becomes a bit theoretical, and a little less real.
That is what happened when we were home for 10 days a few weeks ago. The trip started turning theoretical again, and I did not like that one bit. Fortunately, that first day of our return to riding, it took only a matter of minutes in the saddle before the feelings of the trip came back. So how would I put those feelings into word images?
I sometimes describe it like taking a slow car trip over the less traveled route, but without the window glass separating you from your surroundings. You are free to experience where you are riding with all of your senses.
At the risk of sounding repetitive of other journal entries from the past, here are some specifics that evoke the feelings for me:
* Riding through beautiful rural America, and all that that brings: The farms, the woods, the small and ultra-small towns, the unusual and the historical places, and the unspoiled nature.
* The sounds: Listening to the crickets chirping in the coolness of the early mornings, and the bird songs and their warning cries as the day wears on. The cicadas outside of Jamestown on this trip were amazing. The sound of the wind. The sound of your bike's tires against the pavement. All these sounds are music in their own ways.
* The smells: They envelop you as you ride -- the heavenly sweet honeysuckle, the freshly cut hay, the pine woods, and yes, the scents of manure from a farm or of the road kill you just passed - less attractive, but still part of the experience.
* Feeling your proximity to the animals, sometimes visible and memorable, but often unseen. You hear them scurrying off into the underbrush as you ride past.
* The wonderful, interesting, genuinely nice and supportive people you meet along the way. People who are curious, who want to know where you are going and to hear your story, and who willingly share their stories with you. People who are willing to give and offer to help. People who restore your basic faith in human beings.
* The dozens of unsolicited waves and nods you get from drivers, pedestrians and homeowners you pass on the road, and the very high percentage of return waves you receive when you are the first to gesture.
* The people and organizations who make it their mission to support traveling cyclists with food, places to stay, facilities for showers and laundry, etc., etc. It is amazing how many such groups and places are out there, and how wonderful they are.
* The good, physical feeling of bike riding. The breeze is in your face, your legs cranking steadily and easily in that perfect gear as you move down the road, generating that good sweat.
* The physical challenges you overcome - the long days, the big climbs, the thunderstorms, the headwinds, the heat - each in its own way causing you to take a deep breath, call upon your reserve, and feel the satisfaction of accomplishment when that obstacle is behind you.
* The utter simplicity of life lived on the bike. It is just you, your bike, and whatever you are able to carry on it. Here and now. All other material things don't matter. The problems of the world are suspended for a while. You keep your focus on where you are, on the life necessities of food, water, shelter, on the people you are meeting, and on safely navigating your way through your current surroundings. I find this simplicity one of the most refreshing things about this kind of travel, something that clears the cobwebs for me.
* The daily sense of adventure, and the unknown. Every morning you arise, with new things awaiting you. New places to go, new things to see, new challenges to overcome, new people to meet. You just never know what the stories will be about today, what today's journal entry will say. Every day seems to be filled with all sorts of possibility. That is exciting, and life feels very full.
* Last but not least, the meeting of traveling companions, others out on the road doing what you are doing. Everyone from a different place, with a different background, in a different spot in their lives, but each sharing the same joys and trials of the biking journey and providing a special sort of camaraderie and support.
So many times we are asked why we do these bike trips. I always find it hard to answer that concisely in 1 or 2 sentences. But it is all of the above that make for the joys of traveling by bike. And when all those words are supplanted by the feelings you have when you are actually out there, well, then you really know the answer.”
What then about cycling?
And what have I learnt about America?
I need here to emphasise a massive health warning….. Remember that my knowledge previously was based on sketchy history and a boyhood diet of American rock ‘n roll and TV programmes and films. Moreover, on this journey I have followed, for a mere three months, only a very thin ribbon of road across a vast continent, and touching only ten States out of fifty; so I have only just begun to scratch a very small part of the surface of a huge and complex society.
First, there is astonishing beauty in the landscape and terrain. My photos have, in a very limited way, given some indication of this.
The beauty of Lake Savage, Montana
Full moon rising at Mazama, Montana
Second, although I knew in my head that it is a BIG country, I am in awe at its vastness – not just its overall size, but the scale of its mountains, lakes, rivers and plains. And the vastness of God’s creation here seems to make some Americans crave bigness in what they have and make. So towns sprawl in ill-defined strip mall development. Civic buildings in the larger towns I have been through are massively imposing. Servings of food can be mountainous (as, sadly, are many of the people who eat them). (And don’t get me going again on the size of some RVs….! )
Third, as for the people, I am delighted that the stereotype I had of Americans has been disproved countless times. Far from being arrogant, bigoted, intolerant and insular, the overwhelming majority I have met have been kind, generous, patient, interested and open-hearted. (I know I have mentioned this previously in the Blog, but the way that several times motorists have waited for me on the road to ask if I need water, energy drink, or an apple typifies this spirit.) Indeed, I have been helped by many angels.
Tom and Nancy outside their lovely B&B in Sterling, Kansas
What’s more, I have never felt personally threatened or at risk (albeit I recognise I was never in inner cities, where I might have felt very different!), and on the roads I found motorists (even the much-feared coal- and timber-truck drivers) to be patient and considerate towards this slow and heavy-laden cyclist. (Would that one could say the same about the pestilential dogs, and their owners, in Kentucky and Missouri. I knew of three fellow cyclists who were bitten by these uncontrolled dogs, and two of them I met.)
I would add to these characteristics a spirit of enterprise and hard work. My best example of this is the (Asian) Indian couple, with a three year old boy, who own the gas station and convenience store (as well as the trailer in which I stayed for the night) at Muddy Gap in Wyoming. The place is little more than a road junction, in the middle of nowhere. The couple run it, without help, seven days a week, from 7 am to 9 pm. I asked the husband what had brought him to Muddy Gap; “Business opportunity” was his reply. I guess the same kind of reply to such a question would have been given by anyone setting off westwards on the Santa Fe or Oregon Trails in, say, 1860…..
I was very close to these different trails in Wyoming
Of course the United States is not paradise. This Blog has recorded my discomfort at uncovering some of the dark side to the history of relationships with the American Indians.
The road to the site of the Sand Creek Massacre
I was depressed by the poverty of eastern Kentucky. Also in the east, for example in Virginia, I was puzzled and disturbed as to why (admittedly a very few) homes still fly the Confederate Flag. And I am very conscious that the history of slavery has British fingerprints all over it, as well as American ones.
Poster at Lincoln Birthplace Memorial, Kentucky
Disturbingly, albeit only very occasionally, I heard with my own ears that the deep political divisions in this country extend into personal hatred. (In one conversation I was told that America is more deeply divided now, simply by the fact of having a black President, than at any time since the Civil War….)
And that so many people, in the 21st century and in the world’s largest and most developed economy, can hold Creationist beliefs is to me unfathomable.
Nor can I comprehend the mindset of the ‘right to bear arms’, enshrined in the Constitution’s Second Amendment. Seeing guns in a store, or hearing the crack of rifle fire from target practice on a Sunday morning, was always a physical shock.
But overall, my impression of this great country is the great people it has, and the greatest pleasure of this journey has been meeting such kind and generous people.
Thanks….
I am hugely grateful to them.
I am hugely grateful to you all for following my little adventure and supporting me.
Special gratitude to Jamie and Gary Usrey for providing their home in Arlington, Virginia, as my launchpad, and to Sue Frank in Mill Creek, Washington, for being there for the splashdown (as well as for the extra driving she did in rescuing me when my little butt problem laid me low, and then taking me back to Marblemount so I could resume the ride).
And, as I’ve already said, I couldn’t have done it without the almost daily contact with and encouragement from Janet, Julia – to whom particular thanks for adding photos to the Blog - and Ben, Sara and Rhys, Beth and Shane, and Simon and Susie.
I am hugely grateful to you all for following my little adventure and supporting me.
Special gratitude to Jamie and Gary Usrey for providing their home in Arlington, Virginia, as my launchpad, and to Sue Frank in Mill Creek, Washington, for being there for the splashdown (as well as for the extra driving she did in rescuing me when my little butt problem laid me low, and then taking me back to Marblemount so I could resume the ride).
And, as I’ve already said, I couldn’t have done it without the almost daily contact with and encouragement from Janet, Julia – to whom particular thanks for adding photos to the Blog - and Ben, Sara and Rhys, Beth and Shane, and Simon and Susie.
The Stroke Association….
I have been absolutely delighted at people’s generosity to The Stroke Association. 74 people have sent donations via JustGiving, and – amazingly! – the £4000 target I had hoped to reach (excluding tax rebates) was passed last week. Just brilliant; thank you to all who have been so generous. (I have tried to send an email to every contributor, and I apologise if I have failed in individual cases….)
The benefit The Stroke Association has gained is a superb additional benefit from my journey.
Signing off
Thank you, everyone, for your support. If my musings have been of interest, then that too is a positive. But now my journey is complete, and the long-dreamed adventure has not only come true but exceeded expectations. What now? Well, back to’normal’ life (whatever that may be!). But that doesn’t, mustn’t, mean the end of dreaming.
As Joni Mitchell sang in “The Circle Game”,
There’ll be new dreams – maybe better dreams – aplenty
Before the last revolving year is through……
Before the last revolving year is through……
Thank you, and good wishes to all
Sincerely, Ken
Stats and stuff
________________
Stats and stuff
For those interested, here are some bald facts and figures…..
Total miles | 4283 |
Longest day mileage | 95 |
Shortest day mileage | 22 |
Average day mileage | 59.5 |
Cycling days | 72 |
Total hours pedalling | 366 |
Average daily hours pedalling | 5 |
No of pedal turns (estimated) | 1.3 million |
Average speed | 11.7 mph |
Maximum speed | 40.1 mph |
Minimum speed | 2.7 mph (depressing when you’re climbing at such a low speed!!) |
Highest elevation reached | 11,539 feet (Hoosier Pass) |
Total ascent (estimated) | 168,500 feet (or 5.8 times the height of Mt Everest) |
Highest cycling temperature | 108F/42C (shade temperature one afternoon in Kansas) |
Lowest cycling temperature | 37F/3C (early morning departure, near Teton mountain range – bitter!) |
Rain while riding | About 1.5 hours (amazing, in 366 hours of cycling!!) |
Bike issues | 2 punctures. Replaced: 1 inner tube, 1 tyre, 1 chain, 1 set disc of brake pads |
Health matters | 3 Ibuprofen taken. Nothing else (amazingly fortunate!!) |
Motels stayed in | 49 (and all were satisfactorily clean…) |
Best moment? | First view of the Teton mountains |
Worst moment? | Getting completely lost on Day 2, from not concentrating on my map |
Bike details (briefly) | Condor Heritage steel-framed tourer (from Condor Cycles, the best bike shop in London); 3x8 speed Campagnolo Mirage gears; Avid mechanical disc brakes; Brooks ‘Professional’ saddle; Ortlieb panniers and bar bag. |
________________
Annex: Why go cycle touring?
As noted above, the following is from my friend Mike Weingarten’s (‘TransAm Mike’s’) Blog, and reproduced with his kind permission. It is written in the context of cycle touring in the USA, but applies equally wherever you might be. And if what he expresses, and my Blog, have inspired anyone to take up cycle touring, then, hey, go for it!
Mike's blog is well worth following:
“The joys of bike touring remembered
Wednesday June 22, 2011
That is what happened when we were home for 10 days a few weeks ago. The trip started turning theoretical again, and I did not like that one bit. Fortunately, that first day of our return to riding, it took only a matter of minutes in the saddle before the feelings of the trip came back. So how would I put those feelings into word images?
I sometimes describe it like taking a slow car trip over the less traveled route, but without the window glass separating you from your surroundings. You are free to experience where you are riding with all of your senses.
At the risk of sounding repetitive of other journal entries from the past, here are some specifics that evoke the feelings for me:
* Riding through beautiful rural America, and all that that brings: The farms, the woods, the small and ultra-small towns, the unusual and the historical places, and the unspoiled nature.
* The sounds: Listening to the crickets chirping in the coolness of the early mornings, and the bird songs and their warning cries as the day wears on. The cicadas outside of Jamestown on this trip were amazing. The sound of the wind. The sound of your bike's tires against the pavement. All these sounds are music in their own ways.
* The smells: They envelop you as you ride -- the heavenly sweet honeysuckle, the freshly cut hay, the pine woods, and yes, the scents of manure from a farm or of the road kill you just passed - less attractive, but still part of the experience.
* Feeling your proximity to the animals, sometimes visible and memorable, but often unseen. You hear them scurrying off into the underbrush as you ride past.
* The wonderful, interesting, genuinely nice and supportive people you meet along the way. People who are curious, who want to know where you are going and to hear your story, and who willingly share their stories with you. People who are willing to give and offer to help. People who restore your basic faith in human beings.
* The dozens of unsolicited waves and nods you get from drivers, pedestrians and homeowners you pass on the road, and the very high percentage of return waves you receive when you are the first to gesture.
* The people and organizations who make it their mission to support traveling cyclists with food, places to stay, facilities for showers and laundry, etc., etc. It is amazing how many such groups and places are out there, and how wonderful they are.
* The good, physical feeling of bike riding. The breeze is in your face, your legs cranking steadily and easily in that perfect gear as you move down the road, generating that good sweat.
* The physical challenges you overcome - the long days, the big climbs, the thunderstorms, the headwinds, the heat - each in its own way causing you to take a deep breath, call upon your reserve, and feel the satisfaction of accomplishment when that obstacle is behind you.
* The utter simplicity of life lived on the bike. It is just you, your bike, and whatever you are able to carry on it. Here and now. All other material things don't matter. The problems of the world are suspended for a while. You keep your focus on where you are, on the life necessities of food, water, shelter, on the people you are meeting, and on safely navigating your way through your current surroundings. I find this simplicity one of the most refreshing things about this kind of travel, something that clears the cobwebs for me.
* The daily sense of adventure, and the unknown. Every morning you arise, with new things awaiting you. New places to go, new things to see, new challenges to overcome, new people to meet. You just never know what the stories will be about today, what today's journal entry will say. Every day seems to be filled with all sorts of possibility. That is exciting, and life feels very full.
* Last but not least, the meeting of traveling companions, others out on the road doing what you are doing. Everyone from a different place, with a different background, in a different spot in their lives, but each sharing the same joys and trials of the biking journey and providing a special sort of camaraderie and support.
So many times we are asked why we do these bike trips. I always find it hard to answer that concisely in 1 or 2 sentences. But it is all of the above that make for the joys of traveling by bike. And when all those words are supplanted by the feelings you have when you are actually out there, well, then you really know the answer.”
