THE END
"It is by riding a bicycle that you learn the contours of a country best, since you have to sweat up the hills and coast down them. Thus you remember them as they actually are, while in a motor car only a high hill impresses you, and you have no such accurate remembrance of country you have driven through as you gain by riding a bicycle."
- Ernest Hemingway, By-Line
"I'll tell you what I think of bicycling. I think it has done more to emancipate women than any one thing in the world. I rejoice every time I see a woman ride by on a bike. It gives her a feeling of self-reliance and independence the moment she takes her seat; and away she goes, the picture of untrammelled womanhood."
- Susan B. Anthony 1896
We've been off the bikes for nine days now, and it's finally sinking in that the trip is over. We're back in Minnesota, trying to adjust to "regular" life! I'm surprised how easy it was to acclimate to riding every day, and how odd it feels to not be doing that anymore. I'm also surprised by how difficult it is for me to "wrap up" the trip in this final blog entry. Without exception, I wrote every other blog entry "on the fly"--- I knew, generally, what I wanted to convey in words, and I spent about 15 minutes per blog entry typing it and posting it. I've thought about this blog entry for a week, and I still am not sure what to say.
Kami has posted the final photos to a couple of web pages, and they are linked in the "links" field---check 'em out!
Our trip took 76 days---we had two substantial breaks, when we stopped midway in Minnesota for 4 nights at home, and when we detoured to Texas after our friend's death and were off the road for almost a week. My little bike computer wasn't necessarily reliable for mileage, but it had over 3000 miles on it. I never changed the calibration when I swapped my tires out from 28s to 32s in Fargo, and I left the computer off a lot of days. We traveled through Washington, Idaho, Montana, North Dakota, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Michigan, Ontario, New York, Vermont, New Hampshire and Maine. We usually used the Adventure Cycling maps, unless we thought we knew better. We didn't always know better. Each area had its own distinct characteristics---geographically, and in outlook. We enjoyed it all---Kami liked the mountains best, and I liked riding through Canada the most. But, it was all good.
I had traveled through the very first part of Washington before, and I had traveled in the very last part of Maine, but otherwise I had NEVER been to ANY of the places that we rode our bikes through. I had never been on any of those roads, and I had never seen any of those sights. In many ways, that was the best part of the trip for me---not ever knowing what was around the bend (if there was a bend. Which there wasn't for long stretches of Montana and North Dakota!). It was also one of the most challenging parts for me---never knowing what to expect, if there was going to be something to eat, somewhere to sleep, something interesting to learn about. Each afternoon, consistently, we would find ourselves resting by the side of the road and we would look ahead 15 or 20 miles on the map and see the name of a town, like TROY MONTANA, and we would begin talking about what that town might be like based on its population, and the services noted. Would it have a movie theater? A Dairy Queen? A library? A coffeeshop? And then we would ride on in to it and discover what it had to offer.
There are a couple of simple truths that were reinforced by this journey---the first one, for me, was that you cannot do something like this alone. There are so many people who helped me along the way---people who I've known my entire life, like my family, and people who I met for 5 minutes on a roadside. I could have written a separate blog entry, thanking everyone who helped make this dream come true---but I know the music would play me off the stage before I got past my junior high school friends (like Barb, a/k/a Aunt Bean, who made this blog thing work for me). But,I have to put into words the appreciation I have for my dad, who taught me how to ride a bike on a hill in Waco Texas. He wasn't a big believer in training wheels, and he ran alongside me while I screamed at him not to let go. Many days on this trip I felt like he was running alongside me, never letting go. He's the greatest. My mom taught me to give everything I ever did my best shot, and see what happens. She didn't believe in quitting, and neither do I. Both my brothers rode bikes with me, and both my brothers were invaluable on this trip. David encouraged us from the first moment he heard Kami's hare-brained scheme to cross the continent on a bike, and he showed up from the wheel dip on, carrying gear, camping with style and always singing "On the Road to Morocco" in the mornings, yelling "LIVE STRONG!!!" as we wheeled away. Jeff pitched in in the Midwest, when he answered every question I had for him with "Yes, I can do that." We were in such a bind to get to Texas, and he showed us the way. My grandmother made me laugh every time I called her, with an assortment of comments and observations that were always hilarious. I can't imagine traveling without all the support I received from family, friends and strangers. Sometimes people refer to this type of bike travel, where you are carrying all your own gear on the bike as "unsupported". That couldn't be further from the truth in my case. I felt supported the entire way, even when it was just the two of us, on a deserted stretch of highway in North Dakota with 50 pounds of gear strapped to the bike.
The second truth that was affirmed for me is that people are good. I tried to convey in this blog some of the examples of human goodness, but I could have written pages and pages each day. People have so much more in common with each other than the issues that divide us--- and what I observed is that people are good at heart, they are interested, encouraging and engaged, and they WANT to help one another. I tried to return the kindness I benefited from along the way---but I often had nothing more than kind words to give back. We gave it everything we had, and tried to leave places better than we found them in some small way. I remember one night in a trailer park where we had pitched our tent. The kids of the trailer park started converging on our campsite to talk about the trip, and before long we had our pump and repair kit out and were working on their bikes to get them back in action. At the time, bike repair skills were what we had to give back.
Often, the first thing that people wanted to know about our trip was "what went wrong". Like, what was the worst part of it, the most difficult stretches, or if we had been scared, or in danger. I always changed it around and answered back about how great the trip was, and how contrary to what we often hear---it's a world full of good news. Beautiful scenery, loving people and lots and lots of humor. I can't describe the relief and relaxation I noted in people when I assured them that we were experiencing the best of human nature along the way. I'm sure they wanted to believe that people are good, and it was a joy to reinforce that to them in every part of the journey. People often expressed their belief that they KNEW people were good in their little town, but they just weren't so sure about the people in the next town or state or country over!
I'll always remember this summer as the season I traveled like a rock star--- anywhere I went with that loaded bike, I drew attention---curiosity, which usually morphed into disbelief and admiration. We learned to expect that any time we stopped, if we stayed anywhere close to the bikes we would end up meeting and greeting the locals and fellow travelers and answering their questions. At first I had a difficult time dealing with the attention, and I took some comments personally about how impossible the journey seemed. I kept up with some of the things people told me, like in Michigan when all the women had the same response to hearing about the trip: "DANG, GIRL!!!" or "NO WAY!", which I always answered, "WAY!" or the tattoo-ed man at an antiques show who walked up very close to us and thrust his fist in the air and shouted "BIKER CHICKS ROCK!!!!". SO, this was the GIDDYUPGIRLZ rock tour---all we needed was a t-shirt with that ubiquitous list of tour dates and arenas on the back: beginning MAY 26: LA CONNER, WA!!! with entries like, JUNE 9: LAKE RIVER RV RESORT, CLARK FORK IDAHO!!! and JUNE 14: AVALANCHE CAMPGROUND, MONTANA!! JUNE 29: DEVIL'S LAKE, ND HELD OVER!!!! and nearly 70 different appearances across the continent. Those rock'n'roll t-shirts would be pink, they would have a little giddyupgirlz logo with a bike wheel, a heart at the hub, wings coming off the upper sides of the wheel and a lasso across the top. Our tour name would be the SUMMER OF LOVE and it was the summer we played to a good hearted audience all the way across North America.
- Ernest Hemingway, By-Line
"I'll tell you what I think of bicycling. I think it has done more to emancipate women than any one thing in the world. I rejoice every time I see a woman ride by on a bike. It gives her a feeling of self-reliance and independence the moment she takes her seat; and away she goes, the picture of untrammelled womanhood."
- Susan B. Anthony 1896
We've been off the bikes for nine days now, and it's finally sinking in that the trip is over. We're back in Minnesota, trying to adjust to "regular" life! I'm surprised how easy it was to acclimate to riding every day, and how odd it feels to not be doing that anymore. I'm also surprised by how difficult it is for me to "wrap up" the trip in this final blog entry. Without exception, I wrote every other blog entry "on the fly"--- I knew, generally, what I wanted to convey in words, and I spent about 15 minutes per blog entry typing it and posting it. I've thought about this blog entry for a week, and I still am not sure what to say.
Kami has posted the final photos to a couple of web pages, and they are linked in the "links" field---check 'em out!
Our trip took 76 days---we had two substantial breaks, when we stopped midway in Minnesota for 4 nights at home, and when we detoured to Texas after our friend's death and were off the road for almost a week. My little bike computer wasn't necessarily reliable for mileage, but it had over 3000 miles on it. I never changed the calibration when I swapped my tires out from 28s to 32s in Fargo, and I left the computer off a lot of days. We traveled through Washington, Idaho, Montana, North Dakota, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Michigan, Ontario, New York, Vermont, New Hampshire and Maine. We usually used the Adventure Cycling maps, unless we thought we knew better. We didn't always know better. Each area had its own distinct characteristics---geographically, and in outlook. We enjoyed it all---Kami liked the mountains best, and I liked riding through Canada the most. But, it was all good.
I had traveled through the very first part of Washington before, and I had traveled in the very last part of Maine, but otherwise I had NEVER been to ANY of the places that we rode our bikes through. I had never been on any of those roads, and I had never seen any of those sights. In many ways, that was the best part of the trip for me---not ever knowing what was around the bend (if there was a bend. Which there wasn't for long stretches of Montana and North Dakota!). It was also one of the most challenging parts for me---never knowing what to expect, if there was going to be something to eat, somewhere to sleep, something interesting to learn about. Each afternoon, consistently, we would find ourselves resting by the side of the road and we would look ahead 15 or 20 miles on the map and see the name of a town, like TROY MONTANA, and we would begin talking about what that town might be like based on its population, and the services noted. Would it have a movie theater? A Dairy Queen? A library? A coffeeshop? And then we would ride on in to it and discover what it had to offer.
There are a couple of simple truths that were reinforced by this journey---the first one, for me, was that you cannot do something like this alone. There are so many people who helped me along the way---people who I've known my entire life, like my family, and people who I met for 5 minutes on a roadside. I could have written a separate blog entry, thanking everyone who helped make this dream come true---but I know the music would play me off the stage before I got past my junior high school friends (like Barb, a/k/a Aunt Bean, who made this blog thing work for me). But,I have to put into words the appreciation I have for my dad, who taught me how to ride a bike on a hill in Waco Texas. He wasn't a big believer in training wheels, and he ran alongside me while I screamed at him not to let go. Many days on this trip I felt like he was running alongside me, never letting go. He's the greatest. My mom taught me to give everything I ever did my best shot, and see what happens. She didn't believe in quitting, and neither do I. Both my brothers rode bikes with me, and both my brothers were invaluable on this trip. David encouraged us from the first moment he heard Kami's hare-brained scheme to cross the continent on a bike, and he showed up from the wheel dip on, carrying gear, camping with style and always singing "On the Road to Morocco" in the mornings, yelling "LIVE STRONG!!!" as we wheeled away. Jeff pitched in in the Midwest, when he answered every question I had for him with "Yes, I can do that." We were in such a bind to get to Texas, and he showed us the way. My grandmother made me laugh every time I called her, with an assortment of comments and observations that were always hilarious. I can't imagine traveling without all the support I received from family, friends and strangers. Sometimes people refer to this type of bike travel, where you are carrying all your own gear on the bike as "unsupported". That couldn't be further from the truth in my case. I felt supported the entire way, even when it was just the two of us, on a deserted stretch of highway in North Dakota with 50 pounds of gear strapped to the bike.
The second truth that was affirmed for me is that people are good. I tried to convey in this blog some of the examples of human goodness, but I could have written pages and pages each day. People have so much more in common with each other than the issues that divide us--- and what I observed is that people are good at heart, they are interested, encouraging and engaged, and they WANT to help one another. I tried to return the kindness I benefited from along the way---but I often had nothing more than kind words to give back. We gave it everything we had, and tried to leave places better than we found them in some small way. I remember one night in a trailer park where we had pitched our tent. The kids of the trailer park started converging on our campsite to talk about the trip, and before long we had our pump and repair kit out and were working on their bikes to get them back in action. At the time, bike repair skills were what we had to give back.
Often, the first thing that people wanted to know about our trip was "what went wrong". Like, what was the worst part of it, the most difficult stretches, or if we had been scared, or in danger. I always changed it around and answered back about how great the trip was, and how contrary to what we often hear---it's a world full of good news. Beautiful scenery, loving people and lots and lots of humor. I can't describe the relief and relaxation I noted in people when I assured them that we were experiencing the best of human nature along the way. I'm sure they wanted to believe that people are good, and it was a joy to reinforce that to them in every part of the journey. People often expressed their belief that they KNEW people were good in their little town, but they just weren't so sure about the people in the next town or state or country over!
I'll always remember this summer as the season I traveled like a rock star--- anywhere I went with that loaded bike, I drew attention---curiosity, which usually morphed into disbelief and admiration. We learned to expect that any time we stopped, if we stayed anywhere close to the bikes we would end up meeting and greeting the locals and fellow travelers and answering their questions. At first I had a difficult time dealing with the attention, and I took some comments personally about how impossible the journey seemed. I kept up with some of the things people told me, like in Michigan when all the women had the same response to hearing about the trip: "DANG, GIRL!!!" or "NO WAY!", which I always answered, "WAY!" or the tattoo-ed man at an antiques show who walked up very close to us and thrust his fist in the air and shouted "BIKER CHICKS ROCK!!!!". SO, this was the GIDDYUPGIRLZ rock tour---all we needed was a t-shirt with that ubiquitous list of tour dates and arenas on the back: beginning MAY 26: LA CONNER, WA!!! with entries like, JUNE 9: LAKE RIVER RV RESORT, CLARK FORK IDAHO!!! and JUNE 14: AVALANCHE CAMPGROUND, MONTANA!! JUNE 29: DEVIL'S LAKE, ND HELD OVER!!!! and nearly 70 different appearances across the continent. Those rock'n'roll t-shirts would be pink, they would have a little giddyupgirlz logo with a bike wheel, a heart at the hub, wings coming off the upper sides of the wheel and a lasso across the top. Our tour name would be the SUMMER OF LOVE and it was the summer we played to a good hearted audience all the way across North America.
posted by Laurel @ 8:30 AM
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