Several colleagues and friends recently got together in a Zoom meeting to update and encourage each other during the Covid-19 lockdown. People were physically in several corners of the world, but we were all together in spirit. We had a boost from drums and rattles to call on our individual helping spirits.
A comment was made by one of the participants with a question / comment that deserves a thoughtful response. The comment was about the "Eye of Time." I had the option of doing a pure shamanic journey to explore the concept, but instead have used a hybrid journey of self-hypnosis, drumming, and dreaming.
During my journey, the "Eye of Time" became the "Eye of Horus" as described in the journey of one of my fellow travelers (per Wikipedia, "The Eye of Horus, also known as wadjet, wedjat or udjat, is an ancient Egyptian symbol of protection, royal power, and good health. The Eye of Horus is similar to the Eye of Ra, which belongs to a different god, Ra, but represents many of the same concepts.) In my mis-remembering (a helpful skill for putting ideas together in novel ways) it became the "Horus of Time," which in turn became the "Torus of Time." As I'm remembering it, a torus is basically donut-shaped, and is one of the models used in astrophysics to envision the universe. By following a path in this toroidal universe, past and present time are relative, and to move forward in time, you are reaching a point that is in the past, and traveling to the past takes you to the future. Actually, I prefer the mobius strip as an image of a trajectory that has neither a beginning nor an end, or a cartoonish black hole, where the universe is being sucked into a reverse image of itself (no matter which side of the black hole you are located at the moment, both are simultaneously ingesting each other and blowing out a bubble of time-space or negative time-space, depending).
Horus, torus, mobius, black hole, endless time. What a topic to meditate on during today's enforced social isolation. And that takes me back to a time when my personal vision of the world got sucked inside out, through a pinhole-sized black hole. The time before that "moment of time" was a different universe than the universe I've found myself in ever since. The details of that instance in my life are not important, but the essence of it is. Under a time of great stress, I had a mystical experience and my life was sucked inside out through that black hole. Before, I was someone else. After, I became who I am now.
Eventually, I want to define this moment in terms of quantum mechanics, and how the wave of probability collapses to a single point. Extend that wave to represent the field of a human life, and each of those moments when the field is collapsed into a singular memory, those are the moments that are measured by the clock of life, the horus of time. Electrons exist in wave form until an observer measures the location of the electron, at which point the wave collapses into a single point, and the electron becomes a particle. Who, then, is the observer in a human life? Who is the observer in the field of "human being"? Who is the observer in the field of shamanic work?
Who is the observer? If there is no observer, does a field lose its individual identities and become timeless and spaceless?
Friday, April 3, 2020
Saturday, November 4, 2017
Everything is Training for the Big One
Okay, I know it's crazy. But I've got to keep planning big trips, or what's a bike for?
Put it in your calendar. Beginning of June, 2019. TABR19. I'll be the one at the start line with white hair, a few chinny whiskers, my own cheering section made up of folks from around the Astoria area ... and then, they're off!
First there will be the fast riders, those trying to match or surpass 17 days across America on the Trans America Bicycle route ... all 4200 miles of it. On the other end, there will be the totally unprepared first-timers. Sandwiched in between, there will be people seriously intent on setting their own personal records, reaching their own personal goals.
One of those will be me. I'll be well into my 70's by the time the race starts. I'll be a veteran of at least one trip across America, one trip the length and breadth of the United Kingdom, and a handful of assorted events that only bicyclists know about, and that you have to be crazy to dream of. Every ride I do between now and then will be building towards the Trans America Bike Race in 2019.
My regular routine, at the moment, includes three rides every week with the Hawaii Bicycling League (at hbl.org). There's the Monday Start the Week Off Right ride, an easy no-drop ride of approximately 25 miles that ends at a local coffee shop, where we commandeer 3-4 tables and a dozen or so chairs, plus a large bike rack filled with bikes belonging to riders, seasoned and new, expert and beginner. On Thursday, we ride approximately 50 miles round-trip, with a stop for brunch at our favorite site, the Kawalapai Cafe in Kailua, before returning to Honolulu. The ride usually includes a side-trip to Bellows Beach, as long as we have someone with a military ID to get us past the guard at the gate. Saturdays include a similar route, on a ride led by the "Heavy Breather Outdoor Club." Some weeks, we have had as many as four tandem teams, but a lot of the riders are the same ones who join the regular HBL rides.
So, in brief, I don't have to break my routine to get 125 miles a week on my bike. So for the next year and a half, I'll start adding a few bonus miles ... hills, trips around the perimeter of the island of Oahu, trips over the passes, trips to teach classes or attend events on the far side of the island.
Just watch. And hope that I'm in the saddle, with my climbing and endurance muscles ready for an epic TABR journey. My goal, at the moment, is to finish in under 40 days. I will revise that number downward as the time gets nearer, I hope. Meanwhile, I'm hoping I can train the wind to stay at my back.
Put it in your calendar. Beginning of June, 2019. TABR19. I'll be the one at the start line with white hair, a few chinny whiskers, my own cheering section made up of folks from around the Astoria area ... and then, they're off!
First there will be the fast riders, those trying to match or surpass 17 days across America on the Trans America Bicycle route ... all 4200 miles of it. On the other end, there will be the totally unprepared first-timers. Sandwiched in between, there will be people seriously intent on setting their own personal records, reaching their own personal goals.
One of those will be me. I'll be well into my 70's by the time the race starts. I'll be a veteran of at least one trip across America, one trip the length and breadth of the United Kingdom, and a handful of assorted events that only bicyclists know about, and that you have to be crazy to dream of. Every ride I do between now and then will be building towards the Trans America Bike Race in 2019.
My regular routine, at the moment, includes three rides every week with the Hawaii Bicycling League (at hbl.org). There's the Monday Start the Week Off Right ride, an easy no-drop ride of approximately 25 miles that ends at a local coffee shop, where we commandeer 3-4 tables and a dozen or so chairs, plus a large bike rack filled with bikes belonging to riders, seasoned and new, expert and beginner. On Thursday, we ride approximately 50 miles round-trip, with a stop for brunch at our favorite site, the Kawalapai Cafe in Kailua, before returning to Honolulu. The ride usually includes a side-trip to Bellows Beach, as long as we have someone with a military ID to get us past the guard at the gate. Saturdays include a similar route, on a ride led by the "Heavy Breather Outdoor Club." Some weeks, we have had as many as four tandem teams, but a lot of the riders are the same ones who join the regular HBL rides.
So, in brief, I don't have to break my routine to get 125 miles a week on my bike. So for the next year and a half, I'll start adding a few bonus miles ... hills, trips around the perimeter of the island of Oahu, trips over the passes, trips to teach classes or attend events on the far side of the island.
Just watch. And hope that I'm in the saddle, with my climbing and endurance muscles ready for an epic TABR journey. My goal, at the moment, is to finish in under 40 days. I will revise that number downward as the time gets nearer, I hope. Meanwhile, I'm hoping I can train the wind to stay at my back.
Monday, March 13, 2017
Blue Highway Warriors
At long last, my book about "Bike Trip America" is available. Read all about the cross-country bike trip I took to celebrate the 36th anniversary of my 34th birthday.
Read all about the cross-country bike trip I took to celebrate the 36th anniversary of my 34th birthday.
And if you want to inspire others, send them this link:
https://www.amazon.com/Blue-Highway-Warriors-American-Bicycling/dp/1628653612/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1489439959&sr=8-1&keywords=9781628653618
Read all about the cross-country bike trip I took to celebrate the 36th anniversary of my 34th birthday.
And if you want to inspire others, send them this link:
https://www.amazon.com/Blue-Highway-Warriors-American-Bicycling/dp/1628653612/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1489439959&sr=8-1&keywords=9781628653618
Wednesday, July 20, 2016
Tardy Posts
Happy to say that I'm in the middle of another epic bike ride...this time, the long way across England, from Land's End (near Penzance) to John o'Groats (way up in northern Scotland).
I got to Penzance by train, and found two people waiting on the platform trying to figure out which person was me. They guessed wrong, so I had to clear my throat and get their attention. One of the two, Jim, helped me with my luggage, and drove me in a Peak Tours van to the hostel where we would be staying for the first night. Several of us introduced ourselves, then walked into town, eventually finding the pub where we were to meet for dinner. The pub looked the under-deck of an old galleon sailing ship, and there were 25 riders plus three Peak Tours staff, so it was hard to get to know anyone. My first impression...we were bringing the average age of Peak Tours clients up a bit. Several older riders (two of us in our seventies), but also three teenagers, including two classmates of 17-18, and one school leaver of 19 on a biking vacation with his family, and coincidentally, two of his teachers from his final term.
Day One --- we rode by taxi from Penzance to Land's End. The bikes arrived while we were getting our photos taken, and of course most people had their own bikes that had been entrusted to Peak Tours, so all they had to do was step over the cross bar, mount up, and start riding. Two of us had bikes rented from Peak Tours ... Bare (or Binka) from Iceland, and myself. Therefore, we were still adjusting our bikes while everyone else started off down the road. Dave, our ride leader, assured us that this was not a race, that one of the three Peak Tours guides, would ride with the slowest rider at the back. Bare (pronounced something "bah-deh) was the last one to depart Land's End, and I soon caught up with a few of the slower riders. I was just following written directions, so navigation at times became tricky. "When you come to a white cottage on the left, turn Right onto an unmarked road that has a sign indicating that it is restricted...." And the favorite term, during the morning briefings ... the road is a "lumpy," or "loompy" with a midlands accent. That means that the route is peppered with 500 foot hills where the road ascends at 15-20% grade. And if not "loompy," there's a "sweet little hill climbing out of such and such a village..." which means that anyone not in shape (myself included) will probably have to walk up the hill.
Day one, I didn't get my Strava recording properly, so I missed out on 5000 feet of climbing and about 68 miles. At the end of the day, we ended up in the fishing village of Fowey, staying in a hotel with near vertical drop down to the waterfront where all the restaurants were.
Day Two -- We assembled first thing in the morning near the ferry doc, and were warned to put our bikes in their lowest gear because there was a steep climb right out of the gate. I'm riding a Cannondale Synapse, which is a pretty good bike, but the gears are not made for rapid climbing (or maybe it's my legs that are no longer capable?) Anyway, I happened to be near the front of the ferry, so had to be one of the first ones going up the "sweet little hill," which only lasted for maybe half a mile of thigh-aching climbing. A few of the faster riders passed me and were already leaving the morning brew stop by the time I arrived. The brew stop was on a beautiful picturesque beach then there was another steep climb up over a mountain ... why they don't build level roads, I'll never understand. I walked in a few places, and eventually made it to our lunch stop at a pub on the edge of the water, looking out over the water at Plymouth. Lunch was a full carvery, then we had to hop aboard a small ferry that would only hold a few bikes at a time, and sailed every half hour. I ended up on the ferry with only one other member of our 25-member group, a lady named Leslie, and who speaks with a very strong Geordie accent that I can only understand about half the time. Anyway, Leslie loves to do hiking in the Lake District, so she happens to be good at navigating, and willing to get off her bike and walk up the steep hills. We only lost about an hour trying to find our way through Plymouth using written instructions that were not always accurate. But we ended up on the right trail, and eventually found our way onto Dartmoor.
Have you ever ridden a bicycle at 50 miles per hour? I think I may have hit that speed on one of the descents on the moors. Exciting, but a bit scary. The moors are as beautiful as the movies make them out to be, and we saw hundreds of sheep, wild ponies, and smattering of cattle, and eventually ended up in the small town of Mortenhampstead, poised for a fast descent off Dartmoor the next morning.
I'll post highlights of our next couple of days later. Now, I need to get to sleep. During the first two days, we covered 140 miles and climbed close to 12,000 feet. Guess I've good cause to be tired.
I got to Penzance by train, and found two people waiting on the platform trying to figure out which person was me. They guessed wrong, so I had to clear my throat and get their attention. One of the two, Jim, helped me with my luggage, and drove me in a Peak Tours van to the hostel where we would be staying for the first night. Several of us introduced ourselves, then walked into town, eventually finding the pub where we were to meet for dinner. The pub looked the under-deck of an old galleon sailing ship, and there were 25 riders plus three Peak Tours staff, so it was hard to get to know anyone. My first impression...we were bringing the average age of Peak Tours clients up a bit. Several older riders (two of us in our seventies), but also three teenagers, including two classmates of 17-18, and one school leaver of 19 on a biking vacation with his family, and coincidentally, two of his teachers from his final term.
Day One --- we rode by taxi from Penzance to Land's End. The bikes arrived while we were getting our photos taken, and of course most people had their own bikes that had been entrusted to Peak Tours, so all they had to do was step over the cross bar, mount up, and start riding. Two of us had bikes rented from Peak Tours ... Bare (or Binka) from Iceland, and myself. Therefore, we were still adjusting our bikes while everyone else started off down the road. Dave, our ride leader, assured us that this was not a race, that one of the three Peak Tours guides, would ride with the slowest rider at the back. Bare (pronounced something "bah-deh) was the last one to depart Land's End, and I soon caught up with a few of the slower riders. I was just following written directions, so navigation at times became tricky. "When you come to a white cottage on the left, turn Right onto an unmarked road that has a sign indicating that it is restricted...." And the favorite term, during the morning briefings ... the road is a "lumpy," or "loompy" with a midlands accent. That means that the route is peppered with 500 foot hills where the road ascends at 15-20% grade. And if not "loompy," there's a "sweet little hill climbing out of such and such a village..." which means that anyone not in shape (myself included) will probably have to walk up the hill.
Day one, I didn't get my Strava recording properly, so I missed out on 5000 feet of climbing and about 68 miles. At the end of the day, we ended up in the fishing village of Fowey, staying in a hotel with near vertical drop down to the waterfront where all the restaurants were.
Day Two -- We assembled first thing in the morning near the ferry doc, and were warned to put our bikes in their lowest gear because there was a steep climb right out of the gate. I'm riding a Cannondale Synapse, which is a pretty good bike, but the gears are not made for rapid climbing (or maybe it's my legs that are no longer capable?) Anyway, I happened to be near the front of the ferry, so had to be one of the first ones going up the "sweet little hill," which only lasted for maybe half a mile of thigh-aching climbing. A few of the faster riders passed me and were already leaving the morning brew stop by the time I arrived. The brew stop was on a beautiful picturesque beach then there was another steep climb up over a mountain ... why they don't build level roads, I'll never understand. I walked in a few places, and eventually made it to our lunch stop at a pub on the edge of the water, looking out over the water at Plymouth. Lunch was a full carvery, then we had to hop aboard a small ferry that would only hold a few bikes at a time, and sailed every half hour. I ended up on the ferry with only one other member of our 25-member group, a lady named Leslie, and who speaks with a very strong Geordie accent that I can only understand about half the time. Anyway, Leslie loves to do hiking in the Lake District, so she happens to be good at navigating, and willing to get off her bike and walk up the steep hills. We only lost about an hour trying to find our way through Plymouth using written instructions that were not always accurate. But we ended up on the right trail, and eventually found our way onto Dartmoor.
Have you ever ridden a bicycle at 50 miles per hour? I think I may have hit that speed on one of the descents on the moors. Exciting, but a bit scary. The moors are as beautiful as the movies make them out to be, and we saw hundreds of sheep, wild ponies, and smattering of cattle, and eventually ended up in the small town of Mortenhampstead, poised for a fast descent off Dartmoor the next morning.
I'll post highlights of our next couple of days later. Now, I need to get to sleep. During the first two days, we covered 140 miles and climbed close to 12,000 feet. Guess I've good cause to be tired.
Monday, July 11, 2016
Getting Ready for Another Ride
Another summer, another destination, another group of riders, but I'll be there, so the same protagonist.
Thee are lots of changes. First, my training for my new ride hasn't been up to snuff. I was planning on a week of hard prep before my ride started, but got sidelined by a head cold after I rented a bike ... in England. Which brings me to the heart of the matter.
I was traveling to England for a family celebration ... the 40th birthday of my nephew Oliver became an occasion for a family reunion on my wife's side of the ocean. Why make that long journey from Hawaii to England just for a birthday party, even if Oliver's 40th was a grand occasion? So, silly me, I signed up for a small bike ride across England ... the long way. From Lands End to John O'Groat, (commonly acronymed as LEJoG) which means starting in the far southwest corner, down near Penzance, and ending up about 1000 miles later, in the far northeast corner of Scotland, north of Inverness. 1000 miles, fourteen days without a break, and nearly 60,000 feet of climbing up hills and rolling down the other side on narrow country lanes like only the British could build, along with probably a few miles built by the ancient Romans.
The first couple of days will be the hardest, I suspect. Cornwall has very few miles of level road, and lots of big, steep hills. I will tackle them on a rented bike, riding with a couple of dozen others, all guided by Peak Tours. At least that means that I've got hotels, B&Bs, or hostels waiting at the end of each day, and lots of opportunities to stop on a hilltop to survey the landscape. So for the next couple of weeks, starting on Sunday, July 16, watch here for a bicyclist's view of Great Britain, from the southwest, through Bristol, the Welsh borders, Lancashire, nearby the Lake District, then through Edinburgh and the central highlands of Scotland.
A few things I've already noticed on my rented training bike (in spite of my head cold): the animals are smaller. I was in Knole Park, in Sevenoaks, Kent, and was surrounded by wild deer, tiny ones who would eat out of your hand if they could. Not likely to see many wild buffalo, or any herds of elk on this journey. Maybe a fox or a hedgehog, or a herd of sheep, instead.
A second thing, something I never thought about ... the brakes on the bike are backwards. The left brake lever works the rear brake because when you are rolling along and have to make a hand signal for a turn, you will usually be signalling with your right hand. If I were riding my American bike, applying the left brake lever could lead to a quick tumble over the front handlebars.
A third thing ... waterproof cycling gear. The chance of making it all the way from one end of Great Britain to the other without once encountering a good rainy day are almost nil. So I've invested in shoe covers, trousers, a jacket, and a helmet cover. I plan to arrive in Scotland in a couple of weeks time looking fitter, and just as dy as I am right now. I'll post blog links on Facebook for those who want to follow along.
Cheerio!
Thee are lots of changes. First, my training for my new ride hasn't been up to snuff. I was planning on a week of hard prep before my ride started, but got sidelined by a head cold after I rented a bike ... in England. Which brings me to the heart of the matter.
I was traveling to England for a family celebration ... the 40th birthday of my nephew Oliver became an occasion for a family reunion on my wife's side of the ocean. Why make that long journey from Hawaii to England just for a birthday party, even if Oliver's 40th was a grand occasion? So, silly me, I signed up for a small bike ride across England ... the long way. From Lands End to John O'Groat, (commonly acronymed as LEJoG) which means starting in the far southwest corner, down near Penzance, and ending up about 1000 miles later, in the far northeast corner of Scotland, north of Inverness. 1000 miles, fourteen days without a break, and nearly 60,000 feet of climbing up hills and rolling down the other side on narrow country lanes like only the British could build, along with probably a few miles built by the ancient Romans.
The first couple of days will be the hardest, I suspect. Cornwall has very few miles of level road, and lots of big, steep hills. I will tackle them on a rented bike, riding with a couple of dozen others, all guided by Peak Tours. At least that means that I've got hotels, B&Bs, or hostels waiting at the end of each day, and lots of opportunities to stop on a hilltop to survey the landscape. So for the next couple of weeks, starting on Sunday, July 16, watch here for a bicyclist's view of Great Britain, from the southwest, through Bristol, the Welsh borders, Lancashire, nearby the Lake District, then through Edinburgh and the central highlands of Scotland.
A few things I've already noticed on my rented training bike (in spite of my head cold): the animals are smaller. I was in Knole Park, in Sevenoaks, Kent, and was surrounded by wild deer, tiny ones who would eat out of your hand if they could. Not likely to see many wild buffalo, or any herds of elk on this journey. Maybe a fox or a hedgehog, or a herd of sheep, instead.
A second thing, something I never thought about ... the brakes on the bike are backwards. The left brake lever works the rear brake because when you are rolling along and have to make a hand signal for a turn, you will usually be signalling with your right hand. If I were riding my American bike, applying the left brake lever could lead to a quick tumble over the front handlebars.
A third thing ... waterproof cycling gear. The chance of making it all the way from one end of Great Britain to the other without once encountering a good rainy day are almost nil. So I've invested in shoe covers, trousers, a jacket, and a helmet cover. I plan to arrive in Scotland in a couple of weeks time looking fitter, and just as dy as I am right now. I'll post blog links on Facebook for those who want to follow along.
Cheerio!
Sunday, August 16, 2015
Ground Zero
The ultimate destination of Bike Trip America was One World Trade Center, also known as Ground Zero. We reached our destination yesterday afternoon. Interesting that our worst day, as far as reaching our time goals, was the last day of our journey, but in our defense, as riders, it wasn't our fault that we were two hours late. Let me describe our day, which actually began the previous day when the Fishkill welcoming ceremonies included the announcement that we would be riding to the boat ramp at Beacon to dip our front tires in the Hudson River. They had already arranged for us to be met there by local press and members of the Beacon American Legion chapter. Our police escort was expecting us to follow that route, as was the photographer who would be riding with us all day, and that meant riding out to Beacon, then back to Fishkill to connect with our original route. That added several miles to an already long day, and put us 1 1/2 hours behind our scheduled start. We felt obliged to go along with the plan, which had been hatched by Fang Wong, a former National Commander of the American Legion. Fang Wong was the same one who had helped organize the welcoming ceremony at the World Trade Center at 3:00 pm.
Anyway, we dipped our tires in the Hudson River.
From there, we had a State Police escort, accompanied by the Fishkill American Legion Commander. That resulted in a somewhat slower pace than we needed to make up for the lost time. Plus, the route took us up Tarrytown Hill, which had segments with as much as an 18% grade and lasting nearly a mile. When we passed Sleepy Hollow cemetery, I almost felt like stopping, hopping over the fence, and just ending the ride right there ... or maybe taking a Rip Van Winkle nap and finishing the ride in another 100 years.
We stopped for lunch in Elmsford (I think) in Westchester County. One of the NYSP escorts was so impressed by our efforts on behalf of Operation Comfort Warriors that he bought our lunch for us. We sat outside a deli while eating, and local merchants came out to visit with us and to donate to the cause. Not counting the NYSP donation of lunch, we collected $95 in donations without even lifting a finger!
After lunch, we picked up a long section of bike trail, so the NYSP escort took Pat and the support vehicle down to Yonkers, where local police (NYPD) were available to guide her to the World Trade Center. Meanwhile, we pedaled onward in 90-degree-plus temperatures, followed a maze of bike trails and roads, and finally found our NYPD motorcycle and cruiser escort! Fang Wong had gone as high as Mayor de Blasio in order to get permits for a police escort and a group gathering at the World Trade Center.
We rode through the Bronx, getting stuck in a traffic jam on the way, across the bridge and crossed into Manhattan, then climbed the hills around the Cloisters museum, downtown through Spanish Harlem, then across the island to the bike path along the Hudson River. Once we reached the bike path, we dropped the NYPD cruiser, but still had the two motorcycles in front and in back of us. Due to the Saturday crowds on a hot summer day, we had to keep to an easy pace, which meant that we had a lot of other cyclists joining us, asking why we had a police escort, and we had time to enjoy the scenery ... the Highline, the Intrepid aircraft carrier, midtown Manhattan, and then we had the new One World Trade Center tower in our sights.
The final approach to our destination was punctuated by the excitement in Jonathan's voice when he said, "Look! I see my father. There he is, right there!" I was glad that I was wearing my shades ... I was more emotional, more sentimental than I care to admit, but that's how it was. Bryce's dad came running over to direct the NYPD escort, and we rode up onto the sidewalk and through the crowds of tourists, finally stopping in front of a large American Legion banner, and a crowd of around fifty, diminished from what it had been earlier because of our late arrival. The TV cameras had already headed back to the studios to catch the evening news with other stories, but still, there was a sense of being celebrities. There was an honor guard. There were photographers, and speeches. There was the permit that allowed us to have a large rally at the World Trade Center. We were presented with medals and plaques to honor us for our service to the cause, and as usual, there were donations. At the end of the day, we were just below $20,000, nearly double our initial goal of $10,000 in donations. Since our fund-raising account will stay open through September, we should easily double our initial goal.
We were quickly moved along to where Pat had parked the support vehicle, right in front of the World Trade Center courtesy of NYPD. We packed our bicycles onto the back of a car that would take our bikes directly to a bike shop for shipping home, and packed our gear in the back of the support car so that we could enjoy New York with just our "civilian" clothes. We posed for one last shot as a team before an exhausted Pat drove off, headed back to the West, and the rest of us headed off with Fang Wong to a banquet provided by the Chinatown American Legion chapter.
Incidentally, we had to wear our Bike Trip America tee shirts all day because we had a photographer along with us for a forthcoming film about our trip. As a result, we were hot and perhaps a bit dehydrated on our last day, and also, I didn't have any pockets, so I was unable to carry my smart phone and camera. The pictures above are all from Bryce's camera, and from Pat, as are many of the pictures that have appeared in the blog.
I also want to thank the parents of the boys for entrusting their boys to us for the summer, and for supporting our final day. On the right, in the picture above, you can see Ryan's mom, grandmother and grandfather; and wearing the purple Bike Trip America shirts are Jonathan's mom and dad; and Bryce's dad.
What happens next? The blog will continue periodically as new pictures come in, and when there are important or interesting updates to our trip. A book may be in the works. Bryce and I have both been asked to do articles, and presentations may be organized. Also, the American Legion is doing a film about our trip, and it was suggested that maybe a feature-length movie could be made. So we can play the game of "Who's going to play the part of ...." (fill in the name of your favorite rider or support driver, Legion Commander, WarmShowers host, etc.).
As mentioned earlier, our bikes are already on their way home. Mine is actually going to my son's house since I'll be collecting my wife, Wyn, on the west coast, then we'll go meet our new (and only) grandson Owen for the first time. Pat will be driving back to Gearhart, where she'll be happily reunited with her black lab Annie, who is perhaps as demanding as our bike crew, but less stressful because Annie wags her tail with glee and all demands are unconditionally forgiven. Ryan will be completing his senior year of high school in Hillsboro, Oregon. Jonathan will be holding down the fort as a junior at Astoria High School. And our fearless organizer Bryce will be completing his senior year of high school at a boarding school in Canada. Like I said, I'll keep you posted via the blog and via FaceBook when anything related to the bike trip transpires.
And thank you for having faithfully followed our journey across America.
Saturday, August 15, 2015
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