Day 25 - Mitchell, OR (62.6 miles)

When I look back on this entry years from now, it will look like I just left Prineville and ended up in Mitchell, easy as pie.  The reality was a bit more…dusty. :)

A quick quiz, to get keep you on your toes.  Which of the following things *did not* happen to me today:

A) Staying in a hostel owned by a man named Skeeter

B) Offered dinner by a wagon train of 50 odd horses and 6 or 7 wagons

C) Spent an hour at a BLM office trying to dodge a forest fire

D) Got eaten by a whale

Send your answers SASE prepaid to me, care of this TV station.

As I pedal through the wilderness, a question I often find myself asking myself is “Why am I doing this?”  I don’t know all the answers, but one thing I realized as I biked towards Mitchell: on this day, at that time, Mitchell, OR represented the world to me.  I was so excited to be in Mitchell I could shake myself.  Every color of the buildings, every bite of my delicious onion rings was like a taste of delectable heaven.  Last night, though, I ran into a couple who were on their 3rd anniversary trip and wanted to see the Painted Hills.  They had a hard time getting through last night because of the fires.  They were still in good spirits, but they obviously were a little unhappy to be in Mitchell, and I suddenly saw the town through their eyes: just a podunk place they had to put up with to get on through.  So, I realized that the bike trip is a little like salt: you add it to things and they just taste better.  On the bike, everything is magnified in importance.  Happening upon a water spigot out in the woods is like a second coming of Jesus.  Finding a hostel with a hot shower is like staying at the Grand Floridian.  Things have meaning relative to our situation, and when your world is a bike seat and a set of handlebars, every color stands out just a little bit more.

I want to talk for a minute about the Pain Rotation.  This is a phrase I came up with to describe an interesting phenomenon: the way pain moves through my body.  Day 1 of the trip, my calves and quads were spasming.  By day 2, they were fine, but my lower left back hurt like hell.  Day 4, the back got better but my butt really started to hurt on one side.  Then the other side.  Although overall my body toughened up, I don’t think I’ve had a single day where there wasn’t an obvious weak link in my body.  And what I realized is that life is kind of like that.  The reason that the Buddhists preach being able to meditate in the middle of a busy highway is because they understand that ultimately, the pursuit of happiness is a bit like whack-a-mole; as soon as one problem is solved another crops up.  What I think they miss, of course, is that the joy is in the journey, not the destination.  It’s like the old joke: the best thing about beating your head against a wall is that it feels so good when you stop.  I can honestly say that being able to alleviate pain is one of the best feelings in the world; having an ache and rubbing it out, that moment when your butt hurts and you stand up for a second on the pedals.  Can’t have highs without lows.

So, the town of Mitchell is basically on fire.  Wildfires are closing in from the west, and last night the firefighters lost, and the fire jumped the highway.  Now all the roads back to the west are closed.  I am so deliriously proud of myself right now.  Sitting in Prineville yesterday, everybody - including people who should know, like the BLM - advised me to just stay put and wait it out.  But if I had, if I’d hesitated, I would now be stuck in Prineville for quite a while and it might have threatened to derail the whole trip.  I knew on this trip I would have at least one moment of truth - and I think that was it.  My big test - and I passed!  I’m here!  Fuck yeah!  Let’s do this thing.

Oh!  By the way, my bike has a name now: Rocinante. 

Day 24 - Prineville, OR (63.62 miles)

Back in the saddle!  It felt good to be back out on the bike.  Leaving the fair was a bit of a journey; I had to catch a ride with the family next to me back to Eugene, then the next day get a Greyhound back to Bend, pick up my bike where I’d left it at my friend’s office, then back on the road.  Living this way - relying on the generosity of others, and being so exposed in so many ways - has been amazingly instructive and fun.  I remember a while back meeting some monks from an order up in Marin county that had sworn - among other things - a particular style of oath of poverty wherein they could not prepare their own meals.  They had to eat every meal based on the generosity of others.  That’s a terrifying prospect, but the reason they did it, they told me at the time, was to ensure that they stayed connected to others.  There’s an aspect of Buddhism that can creep in - one of what they call the “false houses” - which goes by various names but basically translates to apathy, failing to care about others.  The thing is, when you know that every meal you eat has to come because someone cares about you, then you make sure you act in a way that ensures people care about you.  Being on this trip, I finally get that at a visceral level.  It pays to be nice, and it feels good to rely on the generosity of others, to be connected, and then pay it forward.  Life is not about creating self-sufficiency, it’s about caring for others.  “People who need people are the happiest people”.  This night in Prineville I’m once again staying in someone’s house, sleeping a nice warm bed with towels and a shower for free, just because I was nice to someone I met online, and they were nice to me.  I care more about those two people now that I ever did about many of the people I know in SF.  If either of them had any trouble I’d be one of the first in line to help out.

Anyway, I had a thing about my first day back, I really wanted to pick back up in Sisters since that’s where I’d left off.  So I went about 40 miles out of way, just so I could join an imaginary line.  (When I die, please inscribe “he was a stubborn coot” on my gravestone).

By the way, this is apropos of nothing, but I’ve now driven/ridden through Sisters, OR three times, and I’ve gotta say: that place is creepy.  Gives me the willies.  Someone is seriously buried under the courthouse floorboards in that town.

One of the things that has become clear to me on this trip is that I’ve been misusing the information superhighway.  Stay with me here while I navigate through some tortured analogies, but this sorta made sense when I was on a bicycle in the heat: online social media (ok cupid, Facebook, twitter, secret, coffee meets bagel, reddit, whatever) is like Photoshop.  Photoshop is a great way to take a picture you already took and make it a little bit better: touch it up, tone it down.  You could even create a pastiche of different photos.  I’ve seen some pretty amazing things done with Photoshop, but the key is that they always start with source material; and, generally speaking, good source material.  One of the truisms photographers (at least the ones that are any good) live by that I learned in photography school is that you can make a good photo better with post processing, but you can’t make a bad photo good, and generally speaking, it’s way easier to just take a good photo to start with than to try to somehow polish a turd.  So, back to the analogy.  Social media is a great way to keep in touch with people you already know, or deepen relationships with people that you’ve already met for some reason.  It may even (arguably) be possible to transform relationships; for example by meeting a friend through another person, or turn someone you know in one context into someone you know in another.  But what many of these sites - and I’m particularly thinking about online dating here - purport to be able to do is create meaningful relationships whole cloth from nothing; to transmute air into diamonds.  And, after a lot of time spent down that hole, I’m just not sure it can be done.  Blame it on our brain chemistry, or our roots as animals, but I think we just don’t cement relationships in our mind until we meet someone.  That’s especially true for dating, but what I’m realizing is that it’s just true across the board.  Ask most people and they’ll tell you that most of their good friends are people they met in real life.  It doesn’t have to be an intensely meaningful beginning; it could just be studying next to someone at a coffee shop or even meeting at the grocery store.  But I know more about someone in 2 minutes of being in their presence than a whole mountain of online goop will ever tell me, and I suspect I’m not alone.  Of course there are always exceptions that prove the rule.  I know someone who met somebody online and was engaged to be married to that person 5 days later.  But I think that’s like winning the lottery - possible, but not a good plan for the future.  I’ve met way more people in person on this trip that I’ve connected with than I have in the last year of living in SF, because my approach is all analog; physically meeting them.  Interestingly, a number of the folks I’ve met that I’ve connected best with don’t even do digital social media, or if they do, they use it more like what I’ve described, to keep in touch or to deepen relationships.

Days 18-23 - Veneta, OR (Oregon Country Fair)

Huh.  The Oregon Country Fair.  It’s hard to even write about it.  It’s honestly too much.  It will probably take me a while to process all of it and even figure out what I think well enough to write it down.  Right now it’s a set of emotions, feelings that don’t seem to fit well into words.  The fair was a deep philosophical experience for me, but at the moment my brain seems to be stuck at a more prosaic level.  So let’s get the basics out of the way and leave the philosophy until the next blog entry.  Big thanks to David for telling me about it, various Oregon folks for talking me into it, and of course Emily for being my fair buddy!

Ten Things I Loved About the Oregon Country Fair

These are not necessarily my ten favorite things about the fair period, but ten things that I loved, that sum up the fair as well as anything can for me right now.

1. Reusable Forks - So, at the OCF, they don’t use plastic forks or spoons.  Every food vendor gives out real metal forks.  At first this was very confusing.  How can that possibly work?  Well, here’s how: at every garbage stop, there were four bins - one for landfill (marked with a sad red triangle), one for recycling, one for compost, and a final bin for the forks.  Volunteers would then come around and pick up these forks and take them to a central washing station which would then redistribute them.  Sounds like a lot of work doesn’t it?  Good thing…

2. Volunteering at the OCF Is an Honor - At most festivals of this type, the festival heads have to put up a fight to get people to come and volunteer.  Usually some sort of free pass is implied.  But at the OCF, that is stood on its ear.  Volunteering at the OCF is an honor, and a really tough gig to get into.  Volunteers and staff are treated royally, and have special privileges, like being able to stay after 7 pm, when the “real fair” apparently begins, with special staff-only midnight shows and other fun.

3.  Kids Allowed - One of the absolute best parts about the OCF was the kids.  Something I’ve always found off about SF is that the are never any children (or old people for that matter) around, as if the circle of life got stuck at about age 29.  And having attended other festivals like Lightning in a Bottle, there’s always an element that comes out once the alcohol starts to kick in, an unsavory side to the freedom agenda.  For many reasons - but not the least of them the presence of full families, and the absence of alcohol - that never seemed to happen at OCF.  And having kids around was just really fun.  They have such a positive energy.  I was raised to believe that the “hippie parenting style” was too permissive, that kids would turn into privileged hellions.  There was absolutely no evidence to support that conclusion.  Both sides of us at the campground had families with awesome, mature and actually really interesting kids, ages about 7-17.  And all the kids at the fair were honestly and truly well behaved.  I did not see a single screaming match or even a crying baby the whole weekend.  Which brings me to…

3. Everyone is So Incredibly, Genuinely Happy - I mean, it almost got a bit odd.  Where is the angry couple fighting with each other over where they left the car?  Where is the husband upset that the wife is walking too slow?  Where’s that one drunk guy that creeps everybody out?  The privileged teenager?  The annoyed customer?  I don’t know.  They weren’t there.  I’ve never seen such an agreeable bunch of people, for three straight days.  It was a model for how society could work.

4. The Grounds - The physical grounds of the OCF are incredibly gorgeous.  They get to leave the buildings there year-round, which helps a lot.  Most of the stands are two-level because the grounds do flood in the winter, and they leave belongings upstairs, which becomes the camp ground for a lot of the staff.  The fairgrounds are heavily wooded and shaded, and fun little hobbit-style paths have been built to get people around.  Although Saturday afternoon got to feeling a bit crowded, most of the three days felt calm and fluid, but still intimate.  There was no fighting with 90 degree sun and wide open fields; even the concert venues were awesome little nooks.

5. The Food - It’s really good.  Like, really good.  Not every last thing of course, but out of maybe 10 meals, I’d say 6 were amazing, 2 were good, and only 2 were mediocre.  We had an amazing tofu burrito, A delicious indian Thali, some amazing mochas.

6. No Shilling - There was certainly a lot of stuff for sale, and a lot of booths, but nobody was in your face about buying things, and the booths were very respectful.  All the wares were on display but set back off the trails, and nobody was ever accosting you with samples, or propositioning you, or anything.

7. Ninjas - NANDA.  They’re ninjas.  They did a ninja show.  It was…the best thing.  Just the best.  Apparently they tour around the U.S. doing festivals, and if you ever get a chance to see them, you must go.  Hilarious, intensely talented.  I was reminded once again that to be truly funny, you first have to be at the top of your craft, and they absolutely were at the top of their craft.  Their caveman/jacket/Matrix act was one of the absolute best things I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen 7 Cirque shows.

8. Environmental Music - The “featured acts” that we saw were definitely good, and as advertised, but what really impressed me was that around every corner, somebody was playing music or doing something to entertain you.  We saw kids playing full size pianos on carts, a marching band (actually two different ones), guys dressed as trees for no good reason, people on stilts, etc., etc.  The design of the grounds meant that you would walk from one soundscape into another seamlessly, and it felt like there was just always something going on, but in a fairly spontaneous and natural way.

9. Honest-to-God Hippies - Yes, the flower children are alive and well, and although they were outnumbered 10 to 1, there was still a pretty serious collection of some pretty serious hippies.  Tie dye was unironically in full force, dancing in non-dancing situations was entirely acceptable, and the moon was most definitely in the seventh house.

10. It’s Not Even All That Expensive - You can go to the whole thing for about $50, all three days.  Camping for all four days will set you back another $60.  Lightning in a Bottle was well over $200.  Burning Man is even more.

I haven’t even mentioned Jason Webley, or Swami Beyondananda, or the awesome woman at our camp who tried to force feed us, or the free Ukelele lessons (which actually taught me how to play the Ukelele, at least as a beginner) or the Kirtan (perhaps the best I’ve ever heard), or the Ritz (full nude coed wet and dry sauna, with hot showers and live music), or the Library, or the fact that the standard greeting for the whole three days is “Happy Fair!”, or the free health care tent, or…etc. etc.

Because I do believe in balance, and even though the OCF was, for me, an incredibly amazing thing, I will mention:

Three Things That Are Not As Awesome About the Oregon Country Fair

1. It’s Not Cheap Inside - Yes, getting in is cheap, but once you’re inside, there’s nothing counterculture about the prices for food and stuff.  I wouldn’t say I felt I was being gouged, because the food was quite good, but it also was a bit pricy to eat there all 3 days.  And, in particular, the stuff for sale felt a bit over-priced at times - but to be fair (ha ha), it was almost all hand-made and top quality stuff, so you get what you pay for.

2. Caucasian Invasion - It’s all white people.  There were no blacks.  There were no Hispanics.  There were not even any - and this is especially odd - any Asian people.  I don’t mean there weren’t very many - I mean I could probably count on two hands the number of people I remember seeing all weekend from any minority group.  At no time did I ever feel that anyone was doing this on purpose - I’m sure minorities are absolutely welcome - but I guess Oregon, and the hippie movement, is just a caucasian thing.  I suppose there’s nothing wrong with that, but coming from such a multiethnic place as SF, it felt a bit odd.

3. Mosquitos - From about 7:30 to 9ish, it kind of sucked to be outside.  We hid in our tents, and that basically worked.  But it definitely was an issue.

I have no idea what the next few years will have in store for me, but if I’m anywhere near Oregon, I’m definitely coming back some day!  An incredible experience.

Day 17 - Bend, OR

As I was getting ready to leave our airbnb this morning, I noticed that I was really enjoying packing up.  It gave me a little thrill to carefully put each little piece of gear in its appointed place.  The last few days I’ve been living high on the hog, sleeping on the same room I woke up in, so my stuff was just strewn all over.  Something about having to put it all in a tiny pack that barely holds its contents brought me a deep sense of satisfaction, and it got me thinking philosophically about scarcity - that is, not having enough of stuff, be it space, money, time, etc.  When you’re a kid, you just assume that more is better.  A bigger box of crayons with more colors in it must be better than a smaller box.  A bigger toy is better than a smaller toy.  Some people never really get past that stage.  And, to be fair, there’s nothing fun about being broke, or hungry, or sick.  But, it’s a well-known artistic principle that limiting the canvas really helps with the process.  Since the dawn of time, artists have artificially constrained themselves, using small canvases, or outdated techniques, or limiting their color palette.  There’s something about abundance that can be a little bit shocking and deadening, introducing a sense of dullness.  Our competitive instinct is what keeps us moving; at a deep level, I’m convinced that we’re still waking up every morning worried about filling our bellies and avoiding lions.  When our minds sense that we have enough of everything, they shut down the intelligence - after all, thinking and struggling consume resources, and when we don’t need to, why would we?  

Anyway, to come down off the philosophy for a moment, there’s something about the purity of this trip that really is focusing my mind.  Getting on the bike, living out of a tiny bag, sharpens the senses.  When you only have to make a limited number of decisions, you savor those decisions.  When you only have 3 shirts, you know how you’re going to get dressed that day.  Losing the myriad of - let’s face it - meaningless choices imposed on us by modern city life makes the more important ones bubble to the surface.  I can’t get wait to get back on the road.

On a related note, I wrote a few days ago about getting stronger physically, but I noticed today that I’m definitely getting stronger mentally as well.  I’m not sure if it’s so much that I have a clearer sense of who I am, as much as I just feel more comfortable expressing that, and being in my own skin.  I’ve long understood that, when it comes to the big choices, I have to be my own man, but I think I was still struggling with the little things - with the thousands of tiny choices we make around other humans every day.  I’ve written before in a different blog about feeling a bit like a giant in a land of tiny people; that sense of paralysis that comes from feeling like every little move you make - and I”m speaking metaphorically here - every emotional move you make is going to potentially hurt someone.  I’ve always lacked confidence in my social skills, and I worry a lot about every little conversation, even with people I don’t know (in fact *especially* with people I don’t know).  But lately, I just kind of don’t give as much of a shit, and I think that - for me - that’s healthy.  The weird thing is that it seems like the more I care, the more I twist in anxiety, and the more I come across as stilted and weird.  It’s a negative feedback loop.  By genuinely expecting everyone else to be the protagonist of their own story, and letting them react to me however they like, I can calm down.  I just don’t have the energy to manage other peoples’ emotional states, and the sooner I realize that, the better.

As a reward to those who read that far, here's the unedited first 10 days of my GoPro footage.  Warning: it's truly unedited, and almost unwatchable, but yet it's still strangely fascinating in parts.  Eventually I'll be turning it into a full multimedia project.

Day 16 - Bend, OR

I live in San Francisco - a city known for its fit inhabitants, and for its enjoyment of the outdoors.  As cities go, it's a pretty healthy place, I think we can all agree.  And, even as SF inhabitants go, I'd like to think I'm a weekend athlete.  I am, after all, biking across the country.

So perhaps you will understand what I mean when I say that Bend, OR makes me feel like a giant slob.  I went to a running meeting today at a running store called Foot Zone.  I knew I was in trouble when six guys in their late 20s/early 30s showed up, each of them a chiseled tower of running perfection.  I asked the guy what the distance and pace would be and he said about 5-7 miles and "we start at about 8 minute miles but we often end up around 7".  Now, I can run an 8 minute mile, so this encouraged me.  But I forgot about the 3400 feet elevation.  They dropped me faster than a hooker.  I think I made it one mile.  And this was the Wednesday lunch run!

In the shopping center that my friend Meg works at - sort of an industrial warehouse space - there is as follows: a yoga studio, a Pilates studio, a CrossFit studio, a martial arts dojo, a physical rehab clinic, a store specializing in tennis, and at least one or two others that I'm forgetting.  Oh, yeah, a place that makes skateboards.  In one block!  There is nobody fat here.  Honestly.  I think they all got scared.

I'm really looking forward to the OCF.  I took off my old bike chain (it needed to be replaced) and I turned it into jewelry.  Check it out!

Day 15 - Bend, OR

It’s extremely odd being back in civilization.  It feels a bit like a cloak that I have to put on, and I’m not sure it’s fitting entirely well.  I mean, I like people, and I like the trappings of society, but having to “be cool” again and “fit in” is almost immediately exhausting.  I find myself a bit more irritable than I was out on the road.  I think part of that is a drive to work out and physically move.  It’s also an energetic drive to take on challenges and be moving forward.  But also I think I may be discovering that I’m more introverted than I thought.  I still love people - that’s a common misconception about introverts - but too much interaction is draining me.  Or that just happens to be the way I'm feeling lately.

Bend is kind of amazing!  I’ve never seen a city so focused on athletic activity.  Snowboarding, skiing, stand up paddle boarding, running, cycling, hiking, you name it, they’re doing it.  They even have an event - the Pull Pedal Paddle - where you have to downhill ski, then cross country ski, then ride a bike, then paddle a kayak, and finally run to the finish.  I want to do it.  I could definitely see myself hanging out here for a while and really bearing down on my own fitness and my own love of the outdoors.  I don’t know if I could be here permanently, but I thin kit would be a really fun ride.  Speaking of which, I got to stand up paddle board (SUP) for the first time!  I really enjoyed it, and I didn’t fall in at all, not even getting on or off.  I definitely credit the yoga with vastly improving my balance.

I'm super excited about the Oregon Country Fair coming up Friday!

Day 14 - Sisters, OR (42.4 miles)

I can feel myself getting stronger on the bike.  Today I did about 45 miles, but there was a 3800 feet climb, from 1500 to 5300 feet, over the McKenzie Pass.  Before I left on this trip, that would’ve been a big deal, but honestly today I found myself wishing that it was even longer!  I’m actually a bit sad that I’m getting off the bike, which I think is a good sign, that I’m enjoying the trip.  Honestly the only part that got to me was the sun; at that elevation the sun really bakes down on you.  That, and I was terrified of being stung by a bee (for those who don’t know, I’m allergic).  With my giant blue sleeping bag on my back, I think I look like a giant flower.  :)  I guess the trip is all about overcoming fears, or at least plowing through them.  The good news is that Bend is at 3400 feet, so I won’t lose all of my altitude acclimation.  I’ve sworn to myself that I’m going to try to keep in shape over this next week - maybe do some rock climbing, hit the gym, perhaps even ride my bike around a bit, so my body doesn’t forget how to ride.

I found out something interesting by the way, that I forgot to mention.  On the trip up the Pacific Coast, I noticed that I was passing a lot of cyclists, but there were very few on my side of the road.  I assumed at first that was just because of the math involved (you pass more folks because of the timing), but still it seemed remarkable.  But in North Bend, when I stopped at Moe’s, he said that he was surprised to see me headed north, because almost everyone was going South.  I asked him why and he said it was because of the wind.  Apparently there’s a well-known north to south wind this time of year that scares off all but the hardiest of riders.  I had no idea!  I mean, I could tell the wind was strong from time to time, but I’m from San Francisco, and I though that was just normal.  Admittedly, he did say that I’d gotten lucky; the winds this week were less strong than usual.  But basically what I’m saying is that I’m a badass.  Also, what I’m saying is that sometimes, things are easier when you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.  :)  If I had known before hand, I probably would have gotten all anxious about it.  

Anyway, today I slid into Sisters, OR - a really quirky little town where they passed a city ordinance in 1978 that all the storefronts have to look like they came out of a Western movie.  Also, the town’s specialty is…quilting?  Quilting.  I guess somebody has to do it!  I have always wanted a quilt of all my old t-shirts.  But I digress.

It’s funny people’s reactions to my trip.  It ranges all over the place, from “yeah, so?” to “oh my god you’re crazy”.  But clearly this is a good part of the country for the athletically ambitious because most people aren’t honestly all that surprised!

Day 13 - McKenzie Bridge, OR (55.7 miles)

I pitched my tent!  I left Eugene late because, first of all I was enjoying myself, and secondly, I had realized that I just wasn’t going to make it to Sisters in one day (it turned out to be over 100 miles with 5000 feet change in elevation).  As I approached McKenzie Bridge, the last town for 50 miles before Sisters, I still didn’t know what I was going to do.  Off by the side of the road, I saw a woman about my age and two bikes that were obviously packed for the trip.  So I stopped to say hi, and it turned out that they were headed my way, and planning on stopping in McKenzie Bridge too!  I had half a mind to try to plow on past it, since I still had 3 hours of daylight, but they said they had heard it was pretty primitive once we got past McKenzie Bridge, so I turned in to make some new friends.  Megan and Jacob were very cool, from D.C., out to ride the trail - him the whole thing, and her until Colorado.  And, wonder of wonders, I pitched my tent!

One thing that felt pretty good, even though I feel bad feeling good about it, is that I am making much better time than they are.  They were amazed at how light I’d packed, they’re carrying the “standard camping load”.  Granted, it was fun to watch them boil some quinoa, but I like my credit card camping style.  I wasn’t the least bit jealous of them hauling all that weight, and I think I made them think twice about all the stuff they’re carrying.  You see, normally when I meet other people - call it a self-esteem issue - I always feel like they know better than i do.  But my self-esteem has been feeling much more balanced as of late.  :)

Anyway, it’s beautiful camping here, and my tent works fine (for light duty of course).  Honestly everything is just coming up roses, and I couldn’t be happier.  I’m going to keep in touch with the two of them because I think i will see them again later - I’m stopping in Bend of course, and they’re stopping later in Colorado, so I think we’ll cross tracks again.  I hope we do, I think that would be super fun.

Day 12 - Eugene, OR (54.9 miles)

There’s an interesting character to the sunlight up here, that reminds me of home - my original home, my birthplace, of Buffalo, NY.  Buffalo is really miserable in the winter, that’s a well-known fact, but what most people don’t know is that Buffalo is actually really beautiful in the summer (granted, summer lasts all of a month, but still).  But there’s a particular character to the sunlight; maybe it’s the way it slants through the trees, the polarity of the light, something.  But I miss it.

Eugene is the funkiest place I’ve ever been - and that’s saying something, because I’ve lived in Austin and San Francisco.  I stopped off at a hostel in Whiteaker, a neighborhood near the U of O.  It was aggressively funky.  I stopped at a house that I thought was my hostel because there was an eclectic collection of folks partying at 2 in the afternoon, smoking pot and hanging out in a set of old beauty salon chairs that they had set out on the streets.  It turns out that’s just the house a few doors down.  :)  It reminded me of SoCo in Austin, but even more so, if such a thing is possible.  Can I just say once again how much I love hostels?  I wish there was a hostel in every town.  They’re a great place to live cheap, an awesome spot to meet folks, and just full of the right kind of attitude.  The best experiences I’ve had traveling are almost all associated with a hostel.  I met a really cool woman named Emily this time, a Faulknerian little spitfire who is riding her motorcycle around the entire country, just for shits, before she heads back to her job in finance.  My tribe for sure.

Another little quick philosophical story - another guy at the hostel, maybe early 20s, had a crazy life story.  He was from Eugene, but had gone to the outback of Australia for a job working at a slaughterhouse.  He had some family there, and they took him in, and he had the best time of his life.  But then this weird thing happened, one of his coworkers died in a freak accident, and he got wigged out, and hopped on a plane back to Eugene.  He said he knew as soon as he landed that it was a mistake - he actually said that he tried to get them to just fly him back, but of course they don’t do that kind of thing (at least not for free).  Anyway, it was obvious to both me and Emily that he needed to get back there ASAP; every time he talked about it his eyes lit up and he seemed so happy.  But he was just letting all these logistical things stand in his way - the price of the ticket, his worries about a job, getting an education, etc., etc.  Anyway, the point is:

YOU KNOW WHAT YOU REALLY WANT TO DO - DO THAT.  DO THAT THING, RIGHT NOW.  That is all.  :)

I really got a kick out of Eugene.  It’s good to know who my people are.  Now I just have to find more of them!  :)

Day 11 - Swisshome, OR (24.1 miles)

I found it.

I’m not even sure what it was.  I’m pretty certain that I couldn’t have told you before I left, and even now, having found it, I’m still not sure I could say.  At least, it would be hard to put into words.  But I can tell you where, and when, I found it.  Not that that would do you much good, because your it probably wouldn’t be found there.  In fact, even my it is not likely to be there anymore, because, for one thing, I’m not me anymore, at least not the me that found it, there.  But when I was that me, which was earlier today, I found it, and I found it in a river in Lane County, Oregon, between the tiny town of Brickerville and the only slightly larger town of Swisshome.  I’m in the basement room of the evangelical church of Swisshome right now, having toasted their last three pieces of wheat bread that the man up the street who let me in found in the crisper drawer of the fridge, and spread on them the banana jam that I bought a few days ago, in what seems like a different life.  I found it in that river, sitting on a rock, dipping my feet in up to the ankles in a cool (but not too cold) Oregon stream, with the sun setting behind me, and the rest of the road laid out in front.  I’d left my bike up by the bathroom at the primitive little park set up by the side of Highway 36, and when I got to the rock, I realized that I couldn’t see the bike, and I was nervous, and then I was mad at myself for being nervous, and I got anxious, and I told myself not to be anxious, which didn’t work, so I got up and walked, barefoot, over the rocks, and moved the bike so I could see it from the river, and got some little splinter in my foot, and walked back down the moss, and thought about whether the leaves I was looking at were poison oak, and what did it mean if I got poison oak on my feet, and then back over the rocks, and sat down heavily and breathed out, and stuck my feet back in the water, and then there it was.

It was just right there.  It was right there in that moment.  And nothing happened, and nothing continued to happen, and I smiled a little bit, and even now hours later, in the basement of this church I can feel the little sensation at the end of my nose that means tears are starting to well up in my eyes, and I won’t likely actually cry, but I feel like crying, and a bit like laughing, and a bit like smiling, and a bit like love.  It’s the *it*-ness of the thing, this sense that, of all the rivers, *this* is the river, and of all the rocks, *this* is the rock, and *that* is the piece, and *I* am the one who is here, who is meant to be here, and *this* is where I should put my feet, and *this* is right, and *this* is the thing, this it, this thing, and now I found it!  And now the last 6 years are worth the wait, and it’s OK, and moving on past this point is fine, and there is no regret, and there is no what-if-I-did-this, and nobody wants to be anything but who they are, and now I maybe will cry, because that feeling, that sense, is what I sensed in the casino days ago, what I sensed when I walked out my door, what I sensed when I planned this trip and stood in REI and quit my job and sat in a room doing downward dog, and none of those were *it* but they were *it-like*, and they knew the way to *it*, and all of them I am so grateful to, because *it* is the thing I want, and *it* is the thing I need, right there, right in that river, right there.  And now I head off to find another it, but with a happy heart, knowing that no matter how long the road, that there are *its* to be had, and that I will likely find another, but that even if I do not, the search is worth it, because they are there to be found.  It’s like finding gold, and knowing that the gold is there, and even if you never find another piece, now the digging is a worthwhile task.

Tomorrow - more about my trip.  Today was about this.

Day 10 - Florence, OR (54.0 miles)

I’d like to step back a bit from the philosophical and talk about a few more prosaic topics.  (Editor’s note: I realize I’ve gotten a few days behind.  I do have content for those days, and I’ll be posting it as I can, trying to catch up.  Fear not, I’m not abandoning ship!)

First of all: Sandboarding!  What a fun thing.  I’m really glad I stopped; I had to bust my tail to get there before they closed, but it was worth it.  This trip is all about having new experiences, and falling on my ass while sliding down a giant hill of sand on a modified skateboard-esque device definitely fits the bill.  The weather was beautiful, and my guide was awesome.  I had an hour on their special custom board.  Sand Master Park is one of the only places in the United States where you can do sand boarding, and they are - as far as I know - the only place that builds their own boards.  The experience is a bit like surfing, a bit like skateboarding.  The guy told me that there’s a place called Sand City just south of Santa Cruz where you can also go sand board, and now I really want to try it out.

On a slightly more philosophical note, I’m re-learning on this trip that it really is about the journey, and not the destination.  Florence is the inflection point between my Pacific Coast trail experience and the Transamerica trail.  It’s one of two places to start the TransAm, the other (more popular) spot being up in Astoria, OR.  I hung about in Florence today trying to psyche myself up to get started.  Biking by the start of the trail, I looked around for signs.  I’m not sure what I was expecting - maybe a plaque?  Maybe a choir of angels?  What I got was a very average suburban-looking corner with a Safeway where I bought some AA batteries.  A part of me was a bit sad that there wasn’t more fanfare.  I found myself thinking about people who came the other way, all the way from Virginia, like my friend Jessica is about to do in a few weeks, and after all those miles, they end up here, in Florence, at the end of Highway 126, at the Safeway.  But then I realized: what would it really matter if there was a plaque?  This journey is about the *journey*.  In this case, that’s painfully obvious; nobody rides their bike across the country because they really need to get to Florence and have no other way to get there (well, not most people anyway).  But really, what this trip teaches is a truth that is universal, if sometimes harder to see; it’s an “edge case” that forces us to recognize that beginnings and ends are just things that we as humans invent, and that the reality of life is a constant flow of change.  In some ways, every day is a new beginning, and a new end.  When I first left on this trip, I was apprehensive, and I remember I went back inside my apartment 3 times, making excuses not to leave.  But what’s surprised me is that I keep doing that, keep making little excuses not to get started, almost every day.  Most days I wake up and I putz around more than I should.  Even though I’m having an amazing time and am looking forward to getting on the bike, for some reason it’s always a little hard to get started.  It’s like cold water; I know it’s going to feel great once I get in, and I’ve done it a thousand times, but for some reason I still pause at the shore.

A few people have asked me about my gear, so I’m going to make a list here and comment on what has worked and not worked for me so far.

GoPro, with board from cam-do.com and the flexible extendable arm attachment, spare battery and battery charger - This has, by and large, worked great.  The extendable arm was a great purchase, it’s rock solid and it allows me to adjust the GoPro to see out over the top of my pannier, and stay focused on the road.  The only problem I’m having is user error - I keep forgetting to charge the batteries.  Other than that, this has been great.  The cam-do.com board allows me to have the camera wake up and take a picture every 60 seconds, which is invaluable for battery life.

eTrex 10 - Amazing.  The perfect device for this trip.  It does three things for me: keep a GPS record of everywhere I’ve been, tell me how far I’ve gone, and tell me what time it is.  And it does all this on two AA batteries that last for days and days.  I love this thing.  My only complaint is that I was too cheap to get the one with a real altimeter, so it uses some kind of “interpolation” from a pre-set map, and that just doesn’t work very well.  Part of me wishes I’d spent extra on the eTrex 20, which has a real altimeter - but also has a color screen which makes the batteries drain faster.

U-Bolt, medium size

Gottlieb Handlebar pannier - I got this because I can’t hang a real pannier off my frame, since it’s a carbon fiber bike.  It works great.  When I weight it down too much, the bike becomes a bit harder to maneuver by hand, which is annoying but not a deal breaker.

REI camp towel, small

Air pillow

Silk bed liner with pillow insert - Honestly I’ve only used this twice, it wasn’t worth the expense

Two Sports basement plastic bottles - this is an area where I regret not investing more money.  These bottles make my water taste funny after only a couple of hours.

Giro helmet, Planet Bike cycling gloves, cycling strap for pants - fine

Mavic Energy Frame shoes - these are racing shoes, out of place for touring, but it’s what I happened to own.  A lot of folks told me to get SPD clips, and they might have been better, but I already had these, and so far, they’ve worked out perfectly fine.

Cheap Amazon.com sleeping bag and tent - So far, I’ve only used the bag twice (as a blanket) and I haven’t pitched the tent once.  This is the difference between “credit card camping” and honest-to-god camping.

Eton crank AM/FM/WB radio/LED/charger - this was intended for emergencies.  I haven’t used it yet

Goal Zero solar panel w/Switch back up battery - the one disappointment.  This basically hasn’t worked well at all, which is unfortunate.

Basic toiletries - razor, small thing of shampoo, small thing of soap, travel toothpaste, toothbrush, vitamins, ginkgo biloba (for the elevation sickness)

3 pairs of shorty socks, 1 pair of boxers, 1 swimsuit, 1 pair regular “Street shorts”, 2 pairs of bike shorts, 3 quick-dry athletic shirts, 1 pair Lulemon quick-dry pants

MacBook Air 11”, with charger - the traveler’s best friend

Seat cable lock - I haven’t been using this, although I really should.  

Small 9-in-1 bike tool

Very small travel knife

Tire tools, chain tool, spare tubes, frame pump

Eyeglasses, sunglasses

Lululemon backpack

Full set of ACA maps

iPhone w/charger

Wallet, keys

If I think of anything else I’ll edit.

Day 9 - Coos Bay, OR (84.6 miles)

Can I just talk for a brief minute about how much I love my laptop?  I’ve started covering it with stickers.  It’s been with me for about 4 years now, which is longer than all but one of my relationships, and it’s basically the perfect companion.  (OK, I’m done.)

Oh, and R.I.P. USMNT.  Please tell me again about how people in the US don't love soccer.  I stopped in Port Orford, OR today, and the bar was full of folks watching the game.  This gruff old Oregon guy saw me coming on the door and told the bartender "quick, switch it to Three's Company reruns."  Har har, Oregon guy.

Coos Bay!  Home of….nothing?  I asked somebody local what made Coos Bay special and they said “Well, it’s a depressed logging town.”  Awkward silence.

On a positive note, keeping up with my job is going well.  Actually, everything is going surprisingly, amazingly well.  All of my technology is working, my clothing choices have been successful.  I haven’t even had a goddamn flat tire.  WHAT IS GOING ON???

So, continuing on the trend of “how to make my life better”, two things have become clear to me on this trip:  first, no matter what the Buddhists might say, some people are just awesome, and some people are just not awesome.  Some people are kind, gentle, nice, compassionate, and patient, and other people are just not any of those things.  And more than anything else, my happiness and my mood seem to track with the people I meet and the interactions I have with those people (I mean, I think that’s true for everybody, but I seem particularly sensitive to it).  Over the last few days, I stopped at 3 different bike shops.  One was OK, one was really lousy, and one was amazingly good.  And, although I’m sure there are at time exceptions to this rule, the better the shop, the nicer the people working there.  The bike tech in North Bend at Moe’s Bike Shop - Alan - was friendly, kind, generous.  He showed me his GoPro shots from the beach, introduced me to his son.  I had an expensive repair recommended to me by the crappy shop and fortunately chose not to do it, and he told me I didn’t need that at all and in fact it would have been counterproductive.  But the best part is that he just radiated a gentle kindness and patience.  Contrast that with Escape Hatch in Brookings, OR, where the kid working the front desk was so incredibly rude I wanted to just punch him right in the mouth.  He told me (the customer!) I was disrespectful and dared me to write a Yelp review (his literal words were, “Go ahead and write a review.  I don’t care”.  Well, congratulations, kid, you got your wish).

But here’s the interesting thing: I don’t know how I could have predicted this.  There was nothing about either shop, or person, to make me think, before I met them, that one would be nice, and helpful, and the other would be crap.

So, a couple of polls.  Please post your answer(s) below in the comments, or leave them on Facebook.  I’m really genuinely curious what people think.

Question: What’s the best approach to filling your life with quality people?

Answers:

A.)  You can’t control the way people will act or treat you, so the key is to just cultivate an equanimous attitude so that the bad eggs don’t bother you.  Let that kid at the shop be nasty; it’s his problem.

B.)  It’s appropriate to put in a reasonable quantity of time trying to arrange your life so that you only meet quality people, and then, if the good outnumber the bad, you just have to remember that life isn’t perfect.  So you batted 2 for 3; that isn’t so bad.

C.)  Mean people suck.  Avoid at all costs.  If people are going to be like that, the less time you waste on them, the better.  Walk out of that shop immediately and get your bike fixed someplace else.

On a related note, I have noticed that people - with some exceptions - have been generally super awesome to me on this trip.  Because I’m considering whether San Francisco is really the right spot for me long-term, I’m curious what people think about that phenomenon.  So question two: Why does it seem like people are nicer to me on the road than they are in San Francisco?

Answers:

A.)  This is more about you; you have a more positive attitude on this trip, and people are just responding to that.  This has nothing to do with San Francisco.

B.)  People in San Francisco are just as “nice”, you just have to redefine “nice” a little bit.  It’s more about setting appropriate expectations.

C.)  There is something genuinely more “pleasant” about people in rural settings.  They tend to just be a bit more patient, especially at first.  It’s probably the lack of stress.

D.)  Man, you are so right.  San Francisco people are uptight, self-centered, and full of themselves.

E.)  None of the above. (Post below)

Happy day before day before Fourth of July!

Day 8 - Gold Beach, OR (61.9 miles)

I can not blog about today without blogging about Tommy and his family.  I met Tommy at the Hunter Creek Bar & Grill in Gold Beach, OR.  (First of all: Oregon!  Oregon!  If you’d told me the first time I would come this far north it would be on a bike I would have told you you were crazy - and not just normal crazy, the special kind of crazy.  Every time I look at those 101 North signs that say Eureka I thought to myself “when am I going to get up there?  A: now.”).  I had reservations for the Tutrtle Creek RV Resort (“Resort”) and was biking down a tiny country road in the dark, looking for something to eat.  I thought I’d missed the grill, and was kind of sad about going to bed cold and hungry - and then, out of the mists: the Bar!  And they had salads!  And a really awesome bartender!  Anyway, I took a seat at the bar, and down the bar a bit was a middle aged man and his (pretty elderly but still spry) mother.  He struck up a conversation with me about my ride, and next thing you know, instead of a cold, sad RV park, I’m staying in his beautiful house, with his son, mother, and a beautiful golden retriever named Wilson, fresh sheets on the bed.  He even made me breakfast.

Now, this is just not behavior that I’m used to.  I’m sure you country bumpkins will tell me all about rural hospitality, but in San Francisco, you do not invite random people from a bar into your house unless they are of the appropriate gender and you are planning on sleeping in the same bed together.

I will never forget Tommy.  He was interesting, inspiring, and incredibly nice.  And he had an awesome dog.  We chatted about marathons - he qualified for the Boston and was encouraging me to reopen my dream and try to qualify (maybe I will, Tommy).  He didn’t need to help me, he could have just gone home.  Nobody would have thought less of him.  His wife was out of town on a trip; it turns out his family is really quite wealthy and his brothers are all doctors; one of them runs a famous cancer clinic in Lubbock, TX.  And the dog - did I mention the dog?  What a beautiful, beautiful dog.

Anyway.  So, in one night I: rekindled my dream of qualifying for Boston, jumpstarted my drive to own a Golden Retriever, and restored my faith in humanity.  Not bad for one day.

On an editorial note, I've made a decision to fall off of the plan - consciously - and stay in Oregon for the Oregon Country Fair.  Everyone on my trip has told me what an amazing experience it is, and I'm coming so close to it, I can't bear not to stop.  So I'll be stopping off in Bend for a few days and then heading to the fair in Veneta, before continuing back on East!

Wilson is a good dog

Day 7 - Crescent City, CA (49.4 miles)

The last thing my yoga guru said to me, before he passed away, was “Chill the Fuck Out”. 

OK,OK, so he didn’t pass away, I just went out of town. 

And he isn’t really my guru (they prefer the word “mentor” now).  But he *did* tell me to CTFO, which was excellent advice.  He noticed - and, honestly, this does not take an incredibly perceptive person - that I tend towards being a bit anxious or high strung - at least the San Francisco version of me does - and I was asking him a bunch of questions about yoga and food for the trip.  You would think he would be all about the healthy eating and yoga and stuff, but his advice was just to do my thing; to ignore all that crap and just immerse myself in whatever comes.

Part of my anxiety is this feeling, this sense that I need to be doing things the best possible way, the right way, that I have to be perfect or else.  It’s kind of honestly a fear of death - this idea that we only get one shot, and OH MY GOD WHAT IF WE SCREW IT UP.  I was wondering when that particular voice would rear its ugly head.  For the first few days, I was so impressed with myself that I had left on this trip at all that that fact kept the voice at bay.  Which was nice.  But, eventually, it crept back again.  First it was the way I was spending my nights.  I brought this tent, thinking I would camp.  But every night I got to the place I was going and I just didn’t want to camp.  I didn’t want to be outside, I didn’t want to be cold, I just…didn’t want to camp.  So, I didn’t.  I also had told myself that I would do this warmshowers/couchsurfing thing.  And I did try, one night, but it didn’t work out.  So there I would find myself, in some random place, and out comes the credit card.  Last night, I had gone as far as to make a reservation at an RV park outside of town (Crescent City).  But…here I am, in the Front St. Inn, having taken about a 10 minute hot shower. 

Next, it was the way I was eating.  Tonight I ate at McDonalds for the second time on the trip.  Why?  Well, they have free and reliable WiFi, they’re cheap, they have big windows so I can keep an eye on my bike, they stay open late…and I’m hungry.  So…I hate myself.

The irony is thick.  Here I am, biking hundreds of miles across the country, and instead of being proud of myself, I’m upset because I’m *not biking incredibly long distances well enough*.  I can already see a conversation unfolding with some hipster acquaintance back in SF: “You biked through the California Coast and *stayed at motels*?  What kind of corporate shill nature-hating monster are you?  And you ate at *McDonalds*??!?!?  Gaaaack cough cough spit hack hack” -falls over dead from sheer angst-. 

Sigh.

So, yeah.  What is it about that?  I mean, here’s the thing: I *do* want to eat healthy.  I *do* want to camp.  I’m not saying that those are bad ideas.  And that voice - the voice that keeps me moving forward, and improving - I like certain aspects of that voice.  But clearly things are tuned a bit wrong in the ol’ Adam noggin.  And here’s the really interesting thing - in its current incarnation, that voice is *actually counterproductive*.  What I’ve noticed - duh - is that I do these things, like eat at McDs, out of anxiety.   They are an anxiety response, pure and simple.  And the biggest source of anxiety is the voice in my head telling me not to eat at McDs!!  That is what we call a “negative feedback loop”.  And breaking that cycle is, arguably, the most important thing I could do with this trip, and with my life.

On a more interesting note, today I went on a jet boat tour of the Klamath river.  It was incredibly gorgeous, and gave me an opportunity to kind of veg out for a few hours.  I struck up a nice conversation with the couple next to me who lived in Baltimore, which reminded me of the importance of perspective - I hated Baltimore, they love it - but that's because we experience different Baltimores.  They are older and live in a nice suburb of the city, I was a student living in the ghetto.  Anyway, one cool thing about the Klamath is that they have a pretty sizable population of bald eagles, and we got to see a number of them in full on flight.  It was pretty awesome.  Also, the boat - which is like a jet ski on steroids - can do full drifts into 360 degrees, which, you know, is pretty fun.  :)

Day 6 - Outside of Orick, CA (32.5)

Nothing happened yesterday.

Ha, ha. OK, that’s not true.  Yesterday was relatively uneventful, but a few things did happen that made for interesting stories.  The first is that I stayed last night in an RV park - in fact, in an actual RV - for the first time in my life.  That story is a bit of a follow up to yesterday’s story.  I got off to a late start, and was running late.  I had called ahead to a motel I found online right by the highway that the reviews said was a bit sketchy but super cheap, and they had rooms for $35.  I was passing an RV park called Elk Country and it caught my eye, I think because my ex was from a small town whose mascot was the Elks.  I pulled in next to two middle aged folks who clearly were running the place.  I walked in and bought some (amazingly good) blackberry pie and a coke, and struck up a conversation with them.  Over the course of that conversation I told them I was headed for the Green Valley Motel.  The man stopped and looked at me.  I said, “what do you think of the Green Valley?”.  He paused - as rural folks do - and said, carefully, “You should stay at the Palms up the road.”  He then told me to tell Martha that Dwayne had sent me and that they should match the Green Valley rate.  He had this look in his eyes that said “Son, you are going to get murdered if you stay at the Green Valley.”  I sighed and sat on his couch and said “well, it’s just that it’s so close.”  He looked at the woman, and, long story short, I stayed in their own trailer for $35 that night.  And the lesson is: sometimes people can help you out!  Now, I know that those of you who are natural extroverts and sales folks are shaking your head and saying “Well, duh”, but you have to understand that this is quite a revelation for me!  Living in a city, and being who I am, I just don’t expect people to be helpful.  But not only did I get to sleep in this trailer, I got to eat homemade banana jam and peanut butter sandwiches, which was basically amazing. And the next day, about 8 miles up the road, I did ride by the Green Valley Motel.  Murder-y?  I’ll let you be the judge….

Another cool thing about staying at the RV park was that I got to meet the guy who was camping next to me in a pull trailer.  His name was Drew, and he was really nice - if socially awkward.  It was obvious to me he was even lonelier than I was feeling, so we struck up a conversation.  He was driving from Las Vegas through to near Seattle, where he had family.  He gave me some interesting advice about state parks, etc.  After talking for a bit, he told me that he was getting married in a couple of months.  I remember the way he put it was “I can’t get out of it now”.  :)  The next morning I saw him and he said he’d had a nightmare the night before where he was being chased.  (I avoided the obvious psychoanalysis - too much projection.  :)  Besides the obvious benefits of getting to know a new person, I also ended up getting 50 cents from him to dry my clothes, plus two tiny pots of jam (straight from room service at the Bellagio, no less!)  Seriously: again, I know you extroverts and such are saying “Of *course* people are helpful!  What kind of screwed up world do you live in where you think otherwise?”  Well, the answer is: being mildly introverted, having two engineer parents, living in San Francisco, dating online, having (past) roommates from Craigslist that you don’t even like, etc., etc.  And yes, it is a screwed up, sad little world - which is why I left it to ride 4500 miles on a bicycle and figure out what I’m doing wrong!

I want to blog briefly about another experience I had as well yesterday which brought something into focus.  I was biking around in Trinidad, CA, along a very small and rural road that ran along the coast.  It was a beautiful sunny day, and although I was tired, I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful the scenery was, overlooking the water.  As I turned the corner - and remember, I am literally in the middle of nowhere - all of a sudden there were signs for a casino.  A casino?  I was a bit hungry, so I decided I had to see this - and so a minute later, I was walking inside the Cher-Ae tribal casino, standing in the snack stand.  Now, we’ve all been to this snack stand.  It had linoleum flooring, fluorescent lighting, and chicken strips.  The coke was free.  It was surreal.  Right outside - literally a few hundred feet away - there was incredibly natural beauty and splendor.  And here I was - here we all were, because the place was busy - in this snack stand.  And in that moment, I realized something: we all make a choice about how we spend our time.  Now, it would be easy to be elitist, and I’m going to avoid that trap.  I understand that many of the people in there are seniors, and riding a bike along the coast is just not in the cards for them.  But there was just something - *empty* - about that place, and the juxtaposition of it with what I was doing - what I had, 5 minutes prior, just been doing - was so stark.  And I looked at the TV - Entertainment Tonight - and I looked at the people - eyes dead, waiting for a new round of Keno to start - and I just…had a moment.  I just hoped, with all my heart, that those people were happy, and that if they really were, fine, but if they weren’t, that they had the guts - no matter how young, or old they may be, and no matter how they may feel about the choices available to them - and they make at least a start, to go outside and take a walk, and see the water, and feel the sun on their face, and just - *live* a little.  I don’t want them to change to suit my vision of what a person should be - I just want to make sure that these things - this seemingly hollow pursuit of a shallow version of happiness - is really working for them.  I hope that doesn’t come across as bullshit.  I realized another thing, too - to me, Vegas is a fun place.  When I think about Vegas, my Vegas is Cirque du Soleil shows, and great restaurants, the pinball hall of fame, and bachelor parties, and cigars at midnight.  But when I talk to people in SF about Vegas, they universally recoil in disgust.  And now I understand why.  The whole “casino thing” - good as it has been for the Indian tribes - is empty, and the part of it that relies on gambling, on this false pursuit of a fake reward, is spiritually bankrupt.  And so now I understand why people hate Vegas.

Day 5 - Arcata, CA (86.5)

I was wondering when my brain would start to get a little bit philosophical - and the answer was yesterday.  Perhaps it’s because the biking was a bit easier - I did 85+ miles, but most of it was fairly flat (although the award for most annoying hill goes to Grizzly Gulch road in Ferndale - unnecessary, folks).  When I started this trip and this blog, I had a couple of decisions to make.  I could have made the blog just a “travelogue”, a sort of recap of what I was up to, sanitized for the masses, so to speak.  I decided that I really didn’t want to do that.  Maybe it’s the fact that this trip is about searching, maybe it’s my age - but I care a lot less about what people think of me than I used to.

So, today is going to be a little bit out there.  A lot of interesting and random stuff happened to me yesterday, and I’d like to tell you about a lot of it, but I just can’t make my brain go in that direction right now.  I will tell one story, to sate those who want a good yarn.  I was pulling through Eureka, using the ACA map, which took a really odd and random route through a quiet Eureka neighborhood.  At one point I biked past a house that was street number 404.  The 404 was done a little oddly, and it really caught my eye, because it looked a bit like a “Page not found” error message from a web browser.  I thought the juxtaposition of those thing was hilarious - here I am in this country hick neighborhood with this crazy tech symbol right in front of me.  I think part of me was like “lol Eureka lol the sticks lol these people don’t even know what a web browser is lol”.  So I pulled over to take a picture.  But as I was pulling out my phone, a Jetta pulled up in front of the house, and a guy - late 20 something, skinny, dressed in mostly black - who would have looked at home in any number of SF tech startups or coffee shops, got out and went into the house.  He gave me a bit of a funny look.  I…put my phone, sheepishly, back in the holder and biked away.

Anyway.  WARNING: the rest of this blog entry is going to get really personal and maybe a little bit weird.  It won’t really have anything to do with my trip, no more details about Arcata (which is a nice little place) or whether I’m safe (I am) or how progress is coming (OK, if a bit behind schedule).  Today is going to get a bit philosophical, a bit TMI, and reading it may change how you look at me.  If you are, say, my parents, and you don’t want to read things which, well, you don’t want to read, now would be a good time to stop reading.

Really, seriously.  If you’re just here for the funny stories, you might stop reading.  I saw this really great video the other day about social media and it made me think.  It was basically about how shallow social media is, and how we sanitize our own lives to present them to everyone, because we have no commitment to each other.  And it’s true - in general, as soon as you read something that smacks of being *real* - maybe a bit intense, you run the other way.  So this might get a bit intense.

Still here?

OK - Sex.

There - did I get your attention?  Let me back up a few steps.  A big part of this trip, no question about it, is the fact that I’m getting older.  I know, I know, I’m only 37, I have plenty of life left to live, etc., etc.  All of which is true.  But the point is that it’s time - past time - for me to figure out what *I* want to do with my life.  Not my parents, my guidance counselor, my ex-wife, my friends.  Me.  The (relative) ease with which I planned and put together this trip has really made me start to think - in a good way - about how I really can do whatever I want in life!  

And what I want is: Sex.  I want to have sex.  With women.  (Me being from San Francisco, I suppose that needs clarifying).

I have had sex - depending on how you count - about 2-3 times in the last 2 years, since my last really serious relationship.  And that is…sad.  Let that soak in for a second.  That would be sad for a “normal” person with an average sex drive.  I have a high sex drive.  I could easily enjoy having sex 2-3 times *per day*.

Now, before everybody gets all excited, I am not talking about “sex” with a lower case “s”.  I’m talking about Sex, Sensuality, Physicality.  Certainly actual intercourse is a big part of that - what Alex from Clockwork Orange might call “the old in and out”.  But I mean the whole thing - massage, foreplay, tenderness, kissing in public, tight hugs, loose hugs, holding hands, late night phone calls, smoky glances, and yes, out and out sex - inventive, thoughtful, compassionate sex.  I am not interested in just having sex for its own sake, devoid of humanity.  No hookers.  And yes, I would love to have a committed relationship.  I could be very happy having sex with one woman, maybe even the rest of my life.  But it would have to be good sex, really good sex.  And right now, I’m having no sex at all.

I’ve thought a lot about why that is (obviously), and what I’ve realized is that - like many primal, fundamental things in life - sex is complicated, and the tendrils of sex reach into every aspect of my life.  I used to think it was a simple problem - perhaps I need to lose some weight and get in better shape (I probably do, a little bit), maybe I need to get better at online dating, or stop online dating, or pick up hobbies that women enjoy, or get one of those hairline surgeries, or smile more, etc., etc.  But what I think I’m finally realizing is that it’s all of those things at the same time, and much more.  I don’t have sex because I do not meet women who I want to seduce and then successfully seduce them, and the reasons for that are myriad and many.

Yesterday, I had an interesting encounter.  I was biking up through the coast, on my way north from Garberville, headed to Eureka.  I stopped at a little market, and outside was a couple, maybe mid twenties.  I asked them to watch my bike while I got a coke, and when I came out I sat on a log and started chatting with them.  Now, this in and of itself is a remarkable thing.  I have a really hard time just striking up a conversation with strangers.  I do it, I push myself into it, but it’s hard for me.  I always assume people won’t like me.  I’m not sure why that is.  I’ve thought maybe I should smile more, maybe it’s that I’m a guy, maybe it’s that I have a chip on my shoulder.  Maybe it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy.  But, whatever, I did it, and they turned out to be nice people.  While I was chatting they said they were from Eureka - so I thought “score!  maybe they can help me”.  I told them I was looking for somewhere to stay that night in Eureka.  Sure enough, the guy, Peter, pulled out his phone, and called his neighbor, who he said “was a cool guy with chicks around all the time”.  Peter, by the way, was really nice, tatted up, seriously built, definitely some kind of surfer.  I heard his end of the conversation, and his buddy said he was with a client, but could probably help.  I thanked Peter profusely, gave him my phone number, asked him to text or call me, shook his hand, told him I needed to get going if i was going to make it to Eureka by dark, and pulled out.

I never heard from Peter.

Now, this kind of thing happens to me all the time, and usually what happens - in my head, or even out loud - is that I get really depressed and more than a bit angry about it.  I usually throw a pity party; why don’t people like me?  Why does this always happen to me?  Why aren’t people honest and straightforward anymore?  Etc., etc.  But this time - probably because of the mental space of being on the bike - I took a deep breath and thought about my role in the whole conversation.  And, suddenly, like a light bulb, I saw a million things I could have done differently.  I could have asked Peter more questions about himself, or his girlfriend.  I don’t even remember her name, and I never found out what he did for a living.  My handshake was limp - partly because I was wearing my bike gloves, and partly because he had a cut on his finger that I was afraid of.  I asked him about the cut, and he said he got it installing sprinklers, but I never followed up with another question.  And, looking back on it, I think he was expecting me to wait for his buddy to finish with the client, so he could call him back.  He may have assumed that because I took off so fast, I wasn’t interested anymore.  I was just being logical - he had my contact info, I needed to get going, so there we go.  I approached the encounter like a math or logic problem.  But people aren’t logic problems.  For example, he had my phone number, but I didn’t have his.  I should have gotten it.  Hell, I have business cards with me - why didn’t I just give him one?

So I guess what I”m trying to say is that the reason I don’t have sex is because I don’t know how to work with people.  In some alternate universe, a more savvy Adam is hanging out with Peter’s neighbor, and quite possibly getting laid.  Or at least would have that option, if he wanted it.  

I’m not sure exactly what to do about this.  The problem isn’t that there’s no information out there about this - the problem is that there’s too much.  There’s a whole section of the bookstore about this exact topic.  I have one - “How to Get Your Mojo Back”.  It’s terrible.  It makes no sense.  And there are meet ups, and men’s groups, etc., etc.  But the problem is - and I’ve tried them - those groups are generally for people who really suck at this.  I don’t *really* suck at this.  I know how to hold a conversation.  I know how to make eye contact.  I’m not autistic, I don’t have PTSD.  I have friends, I have had sex with women, even very very attractive women.  I studied leadership training in my MBA.  I would give myself a B- (maybe C+).  I need a tutor who really knows how to up my game.  Not just the sex part, but just across the board - making friends, with both men and women.  And I think that the root of the problem - the core of the issue - is that I need to change my mental outlook on people.  Right now, I have a flowchart in my head:  Are you a woman?  Are you roughly my age?  Are you (reasonably) hot?  Are you single?  Then I am interested in talking to you.  Otherwise, bugger off.  I find people boring - and they can tell.  I don’t mean to, I’m not a bad or mean or evil person, my mind just goes really fast, and I’m often - even in San Francisco - mentally ahead of people.  That sounds like a good thing, but believe me, it’s a curse.  Most people are fairly dull, most of the time.  And that definitely includes me!  I’m sick of myself and my own stories, too.

Somehow, though, I have to really re-discover the joy of *people*.  The fact that they are worth getting to know, worth talking to - even the not-so-hot and not-so-single ones.  I have to really have love - interest, compassion, care - for them and their stories and their issues.  And that can’t be only for the hot ones.  That has to be for everyone.  Not just because it’s the right thing to do, but because it’s the only way I’m going to get laid.  And then, as a second thing, I have to really go for it - have the guts and self-belief to believe that I am worth it - that sex with me will be fun, and it’s something every woman would want, and does want.  Even the taken ones (even if they don’t act on it).  I have to *be interesting and interested*.  *Presume success*.

Merely realizing this is a step in the right direction, but I have to keep it up on this trip.  More later as I start to figure it out.

Day 4 - Garberville, CA (69.6)

Day 4 - Garberville, CA

I feel a lot of philosophical solidarity with the US Men’s National Soccer team today.  Let me back up a step: for those of you who don’t know, this morning was a big moment for the United States in the World Cup.  It was the game(s) that decided whether they moved on to the next stage of the tournament.  Ideally, they would beat Germany or even tie them and be guaranteed to go to the next round.  But they could even lose, as long as they didn’t lose by a lot.  So, they didn’t (lose by a lot) - they lost, by a little.  And everybody was happy.  In soccer, they call this “getting a result”, as in “today the United States got a result against Germany”.

I also got a result today.  I needed to get to Garberville, CA.  And I did.  I’m here.  And I did it entirely on my bicycle.  Much like the United States, it was not pretty, and I will probably never watch the replay.  I have a blister, on my butt, the size of France (is that too much information?).  After swearing I would never ride 101 again, I not only rode it, but in the twilight, racing the dwindling light.  But: I’m here, and that’s what counts.  I’ve always been a “win or go home” kind of guy.  But maybe the right phrase is “get a result or go home”.

A few interesting things from today: for some reason, I got room 121 both yesterday and today.  That amuses me.  And, for those who are asking, yes, I will go camping at some point (otherwise this tent was pretty pointless).  But the KOA was $40/night for a campsite, and the motel was $72, and I’m tired.  (By the way, can someone tell me why it costs $40 to rent an open piece of space?  That’s a serious question.  Is there something I’m missing?)  

Should I have stayed?   (Westport Market in Westport , Ca, pop. 300.  As I stopped in the market, another guy came riding up carrying camping gear .  He said - and I quote - "is this the whole town?")

Time to head East!

Day 3 - Fort Bragg, CA (53.1)

So, if the theme of yesterday was “truth”, the theme of today was “learning”.  In a certain sense, today went kinda badly.  (Plan?  What plan?  R.I.P. the plan).  But that’s OK!  I learned a lot.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.  Today started out really great; I stopped off in Redwood Valley, CA, and had a pretty awesome small-town experience.  First, I went into the gas station to get a coke.  They had a minimum for credit cards, so I offered to pay an extra fee.  The guy was just, like, “you know what?  This one is on the house.”  Try that in San Francisco.  Then I walked across the street and these two guys were trying to get a small business started selling espressos and breakfast burritos from a cart.  He was telling the lady ahead of me that all the produce was grown locally.  It turned out they were cash only - but the guy said “you know what, coffee is on the house today.”  I was like, what parallel universe is this?  But I said I wanted a burrito; so I went and got cash from the ATM and went back and paid for my soda and then bought what turned out to be the most delicious organic home-grown breakfast burrito I have ever put in my mouth.  Seriously, it was amazing, and I hadn’t even been out biking yet so it isn’t just because I was hungry.

Then….the day got weird.  I knew I was in trouble when Google Maps biking directions said to get on 101 North for 74 miles.  But I decided to tough it out.  Bad plan.  If anybody ever says they’re going to bike north of Ukiah towards Garberville, please discourage them.  I was pretty sure I was going to die, so I got off the highway in the middle of nowhere.  Now Google Maps said “hey!  here’s a convenient route to the next town”.  Next thing I know, I’m climbing over barbed wire fences with my bike and I ended up in the middle of a road construction site.  Thanks, Google Maps!  The lady came out of the foreman’s office and was surprisingly nonplussed (does she see a cyclist every day?).  I redundantly explained that I was lost and needed to get at least to Willits without getting back on 101.  She shook her head and said “not gonna happen”.  So…6 miles and 7 or 8 near misses later, I pulled - shaking - into Willits.  Never, ever again.

My plan that morning was to get to Garberville, but I realized, looking at the map, that just wasn’t going to happen.  I had 60 miles of 101 North left in front of me that way, and it was already 1:30.  So I made a momentous decision and bailed.  I got on Highway 20 - even though it’s totally the wrong way - and headed to Fort Bragg, which has the dual virtues of being on Highway 1 instead of 101, and being part of the ACA maps that I’m carrying.  Oh, and did I mention that this all happened after climbing to 2000 feet? 

So Highway 20 turned out to be gorgeous, but hilly.  I climbed about 3000 total feet.  Then, just when I was completely exhausted, and approaching the coast - it started raining.  Then my phone died, and I couldn’t find my hotel.  Then my backup battery died.

But here I am!  Dry, warm, and full of chinese food.  So: what have we learned?

I learned that those crazy folks at the ACA (the people that made my maps) know what they’re doing, and now that I’ve picked up their trail, I am absolutely not letting go.  I do not want to crawl over any more barbed wire fences.

I learned that Google Maps really, really sucks at biking directions.

I learned that keeping my phone charged is going to be priority #1.  I may have to quit using Strava just to make sure I can last the day.

I learned that something is wrong with the backup battery that goes with my solar panel.  The panel itself seems OK, but the battery is busted.

I learned that my gear can handle a light rain for 10 or so miles, but I may be in trouble in serious rain.

I learned that chivalry is not dead in small towns.

I learned that making a breakfast burrito from local produce makes it incredibly, incredibly delicious.

I learned that adding 3000 feet of climb to a day of biking makes it much, much harder and slower.

I re-learned that when I get really tired I get sloppy (I knew this already).  I dropped my bike on my leg and have three nice cuts to show for it.

I learned that the best way to make a crappy motel feel like the Taj Mahal is to ride on a bicycle three straight days.

I learned that I can leave home, get lost, almost die, make a new plan on the fly, ride 50+ miles with 3000 feet change in elevation in the rain, get lost again, and still make it.  I don’t *want* to, but in a pinch, I can.

I learned that Fort Bragg is cold and foggy.  And folks on Yelp down here have different standards for a quality chinese buffet than I do.

I learned that you can stand outside a McDonald’s and still use their wifi, but it will really suck and take about 8-10 minutes to load Google Maps.

I learned that I just really, really love Diet Coke.  So, forget quitting.  Give me the big gulp.  I don’t care if it kills me.

One more thing - David and I had a really interesting conversation on the nature of anxiety yesterday.  He’s in this awkward position where something really momentous and life-changing (in a bad way) *might* (probably will) happen in about a week and a half.  He basically just has to wait, and there’s nothing he can do about it.  And it’s killing him.  Just like it would me.  There isn’t anything I can do to help, except commiserate.  But it was interesting to hear someone else describe what I feel all the time - that sense of helplessness and the anxiety that comes from it.  I can’t help but feel like that’s even worse for men than women - there is still this societal expectation that men should be active, should be able to “do something about it”.   But sometimes there’s just nothing you can do.

No pretty pictures today.  Oh, and tomorrow - GO USA!

Day 2 - Upper Lake, CA (71.8)

All right, sign - I accept your challenge.

Truth - My butt hurts.

Truth - My pack is too heavy, which makes me mad at myself because that’s such a newbie mistake.

Truth - As bad as I didn’t want to cheat so early in the trip, seeing David pull up in his pickup in Calpella felt pretty amazing.

Truth - Even when given healthy choices, I will eat fast food.  It’s just one of those things, I guess.  At least I don’t smoke.

Truth - This trip is 30% athleticism, 40% heroism, and about 30% cowardice.

Truth - That grass isn’t just greener on the other side, it’s like a fucking Southern California groomed golf course.

Truth - Taking a bath in the woods is amazing.  So is cooking bacon in the woods.  Actually, everything in the woods is just better.

Truth - San Francisco isn’t as intellectually superior as it thinks it is.

Truth - It’s really hard not to get dehydrated.

Truth - My fear of social interactions with strangers is not entirely justified.

Truth - People often suck, but on the other hand, if you want to have experiences liking taking a hot bath on a farm while the sun sets, you have to make friends.  You just have to make friends with the right people.

Spoiler alert: I had some exciting adventures today already (and it’s only 1 PM!).  More about that later.

Day 1 - Santa Rosa, CA (67.6)

Well, here I am!  It's still a little hard to believe that I got started.  Of course, only being in Santa Rosa, I haven't really left the comforts of my home territory, so it still feels a bit unreal.  I biked past my parents' old house, and I stayed last night with a friend.  But there was a moment - out past Spirit Rock - where I got a taste of what I'm about to experience.  After about 50 miles, I sat my bike down in the grass, and stared up at the sky, and thought.  I don't even know exactly what I thought, but I looked up at the next hill, got back on my bike, and here I am.

It was really nice to see Kate.  She's doing well, and was just in a show where she got to play an awesome bit part.  We spent the evening eating at a mexican restaurant that we'd both been on dates to (with different people!) and then we watched old I Love Lucy reruns.  I learned some cool things, like that Lucy was filmed live in front of a studio audience.  She said something interesting about me - she hasn't seen me in a long while, maybe a year - that I was a lot easier and more honest to talk to.  I don't know if that's because we're not dating now, or if it's the yoga, or being on this trip - or all 3 - but I take it as a sign that, whatever I'm doing, I'm moving my life in the right direction.

Greetings from Santa Rosa!

By the way, this is the creepiest thing I've ever seen.