Epilogue

It is only logical to ask me if it was worth it: the pain, surgery, scars.  I live my life with the unwavering belief that when I am in fact living my life as I choose then I have no reason for regret.  I count myself lucky to have taken a risk and seen it through.  My scar will never stop making me smile.

Geoff and I rode a total of 1800 miles on this trip.  We stayed with 15 hosts and at 2 churches.  We crossed through 8 states (Geoff made it through quite a few more).  In one trip, my perception of an entire nation, a people was fundamentally altered.  I set out to see the US and I believe I succeeded in seeing what is great in it. It is easy to lose track of the things that bind us when faced with a constant barrage of partisanship.  Yet, everywhere I went I found people happy to help me carry out this dream.  I encountered people proud of their lives, their communities, their families.  Our accommodation ranged between a luxurious apartment in Saint Louis and a tent pitched behind a church where two roads met somewhere in Kentucky, but the hosts were fundamentally the same; these people were happy with their lot and open to share their lives with us.  A few folks in Kansas didn't know where Philadelphia even was, had never heard of it, which made us as good as aliens to them and yet they treated us as cordially as if we were from their town.

But the human side of things was only part of what made me fall in love with this country.  There is the 'country' itself with its geographical diversity.  I should have kept a tally of the number of times I heard the expression 'beautiful country.'  It was without fail that any town we came to, the folks there would talk about the beautiful country we had just come through.  If you spend the least of efforts, you can see the beauty contained everywhere.  The this scale of what lies out there to explore makes me glad I am here, able to take advantage.  This country is huge, even after biking to the geographical center, I can not comprehend the enormity.  For a man with wanderlust unrestrained, I can be assured a life lived here in the US will never leave me wanting.

'When the wind is blowing in your face, you know you're going the right way.' Paul from Eggleston, VA

Sticks and Stones and Broken Bones

My spirits could not be dampened in Denver.  As I strolled through the surprisingly flat town, I could not help sighting cyclists by droves, cruising through town.  I am, at my core, an urban cyclist, seeing it as the most logical and utilitarian use of the vehicle.  And so I was overjoyed to find bicycles in Denver piloted by a seemingly representative cross-section of the city's population.  Unlike Philly, where only the hip or daring are typically found on bikes (not clad in lycra), here you find an adult, casually dressed, riding a cruiser like he was plucked out of Holland and dropped on the front range. 

Often a pang of disappointment at being confined to pedestrian mobility.  Easily replaced by the beauty that surrounded me, in a city that felt like it had been built into nature, as though she had opened her arms to let it be.  You find yourself forgiving the moonscape downtown, where green was obstinately replaced by gray, for over the shoulder of the tallest skyscraper is the overshadowing mountain range, refusing to be bested.

Jason and I probably got started a little too early with our tour of Great Divide Brewery

Jason, a coworker from Philly, in a fortuitous turn of events, happened to be working in Denver during my visit and tromped around the city with me.  An afternoon will pass unobserved with the exchange of words over a few rounds of beer.  Denver may be known for its beautiful location, but the sheer number of local micro-brews may be just as important. It is certain, at least, that they compliments each other.

I rendezvoused with Emily at Golder's Denver office, where I presented my case for a future position.  They seemed to find me mildly curious, a lukewarm impression for a casual interview so we'll see how that all turns out.  In the mean time, my travels are of greater importance.  Boulder has much over Denver in terms of location, but it did not stir the same passionate drive in me as Denver had.  Perhaps in my mind, the college town is dismissed as artificial, compared to a city with its economic dynamism and cultural capacity.  An eight-hour hike into the surrounding mountains confirmed that my arm was still broken and it voiced its annoyance by swelling to a cartoon version of itself.  So I decided that I will restrict my hikes to two hours until I have surgery to fix my arm.

Sun Valley, Idaho was a brilliant half-way point to Seattle.  Next to Sawtooth National Forest, among the snow-capped peaks, Emily's old friend has a family home bordering the park.  The temperature stands in stark contrast to the 'lowlands' of Denver and so we opted for a drive through the mountain range instead of a hike (and I figured I ought to give my broken arm a rest before Seattle).  Again, I admit that my photos and words fail to express the beauty of this region.

The Gulf admires the view

A solitary rain cloud.

Not in Kansas Anymore (finally)

A patchwork of clouds covered the sky, extending towards the horizon.  And staring hopefully towards the gray expanse, I spotted it: the sawtooth pattern barely visible, but just as it had been described - purple mountain majesty.  I thought to myself, this isn't how I was supposed to get here, but I forced the thought out of my mind.  I am a traveler and my immediate goal is realized.  You may wonder how I made my way here. Many voices of doubt assailed me when I explained my aim of reaching Denver by simply asking around. These voices are ignorant to the most basic axiom of the traveler: Make your needs known and the universe will conspire to meet them. Special thanks to Coach Delgado who was kind enough to make me a guest in his home, assist me with shipping my gear home and find me a ride to Denver. I believe him to be the embodiment of the Good Christian archetype.


I have a score to settle with Kansas that must wait until my body is whole.  For now I anticipate an awesome weekend in Denver. Expect some photos soon.

--Geoff Update--
My steadfast travel companion has ventured forth, his intent to reach the Pacific by bike.  I spoke with him earlier today and know him to be safe in Colorado Springs.  A friend from home, Jeff, has traveled from NY to provide some temporary reinforcement.  The two will bike into the Southwest, across the Continental Divide and visit some of the amazing parks there.  I will try to keep up with their trip and post updates.

Trapped in Kansas

Plan B

The self-pity faded as quickly as the pain of my broken bone.  It's hard to say whether the opiates had anything to do with that.  One thing was certain: I would not be riding any longer.  The brutal finality of this fact shook the foundations of my resolve.  The future, previously a vaguely transparent shroud, became a vacuum; its emptiness paralyzed me.  The thought repeated itself endlessly, This is over; it is time to go home.  Yet the thought would invariably lead along the same track, a future self facing regret.  And what was home anyway?  I could appreciate the idea that this accident was meant to happen, but this was not the way it was meant to end.  That was the seed of hope.

What I spawned was an alternative plan.  First an inventory:

• left arm - unusable
• right arm - ready for the task at hand
• bicycle - unusable, would need to be eliminated
• shelter - available in Garden City as long as necessary
• clothing - I would need to reequip myself for pedestrian life
• mobility - limited by my bike and gear; my legs felt stronger than I could remember

Then a thought.  I had planned a rendezvous with Emily in Boulder, CO before this setback.  She would be traveling West from Philadelphia.  Perhaps she could scoop me up from my Kansas prison and bring me to Denver.  From there I could flip the coin that would decide my fate: East or West.  And here I must credit Emily who provides proof that a door is never closed without another being opened.  For when she heard my proposition, she responded, 'why don't you just come with me to Seattle?'

Never Underestimate Kansas

Kansas proved to be more pivotal than anyone would have anticipated.  I embarked upon the venture with resignation, asuming ignorantly that an entire state could realy have nothing to offer me.  And despite the ultimate outcome, I admit that I actually came to appreciate the Sunflower state for its simple beauty, good people and the challenges it offers.

I'm not typically one to go for sunflower seeds, but I was inspired to purchase a bag as soon as we crossed the border.  I reasoned that the ride was bound to be dismal and cracking open several hundred seeds would at least be distracting, and meditative at best.  In truth, those first few days, as we attempted to cross the vast expanse of the state as quickly as we could, the distraction was hardly necessary.  See, Kansas is not flat, that is a stereotype which has gotten a strong foothold.  In fact, the plains do not begin until two-thirds of the way (west) into the state.  The Eastern portion of Kansas recalled the beautiful rolling hills of Kentucky, where over each rise was another picture-perfect bucolic scene - if you're into that sort of thing.  The strong cross-wind slowed us down and ultimately factored into my crash.  But the wind also proved beautiful, as it animating the vast fields of wheat, bringing them to life, a sea of green.

It doesn't surprise me, though, that most often, Kansas is regarded as a flat expanse, a wasteland of sorts.  I, like many who have preceeded me, found the plains enrapturing and painfully boring - perhaps meditative like solitary confinement may be viewed as medidative.  As you ride, you suddenly become aware that the view that surrounds you is lacking in depth, an infinite flatness.  You recognize an object in the distance, a grainery perhaps, that pierces the sky like some kind of skyscraper.  You are overjoyed at the recognition, until gradually you become aware of the gulf of space and time that separates you and you search for anything else to distract you, but there is nothing.

Unless, of course, you are lucky enough to run into some inclement weather.  Herein lies one of the hidden treasures of the plains.  It surprised me, too, at first, this sudden shift of revelry for storms, which I previously would have done anything to avoid.  Yet there was a beauty in seing a storm passing in its entirety through the plains, or the whisper of cirrus clouds at the edge of space.  Clouds decorated the sky like the Gods had commissioned a great work.

One day, one of these storms suddenly came upon us, but we did not seek shelter.  It was as if the Gods had honored us with a test of our courage and resolve.  Zeus hurled bolts of lightning all around us, rain turned the day to night, and hail fell from the sky.  Through rolling hills, the awesome power of the Gods was unleashed upon us.  We came through the curtain of rain in time to arrive in the next town.  Coffee warmed our bodies, but our hearts burned with the conquest.  The Gods, satisfied with our determination, opened the clouds to let the sun shine upon us once more and devined a gentle breeze to blow at our backs.  We rode 120 miles that day.

And then, my adventure - by bicycle at least - was brought to an untimely end.  I like to imagine that Kansas,sensing eminent defeat (we were a trifle 12 miles from the border) decided to play dirty and take me out in some Tanya Harding-esque move.  My left humerus was the casualty.  While I am down, I'm certainly not out, and I will be back on the road as soon as the cast comes off.
Thank you to all who have been so supportive of my trip and followed along.  I will ride into the wind again and my tales will apear here once more.

Looking Forward to Kansas

We are going to Kansas tomorrow!  I have rarely been less excited about traveling.  Kansas bears the unique distinction of being scorned by 9 out of 10 people I meet, and that one person who has something good to say is usually from Kansas or just too nice to tell the truth.

What I've heard about Kansas:

• Boring - I think even the people from Kansas agree
• Tornadoes (apparently these offer great tail winds)
• Hail and Thunder Storms
• Head Wind
• Flat, yet with a subtle elevation gain
• There's a town that will ticket you for cycling through (yes, it is on our route)
• Most roads are unpaved
• We will have no shade for most of the way - who needs trees when you have corn?

Some positive notes:

• the infinite flatness provides amazing sunsets (we will see many of these)
• the people are friendly
• it is God's country, hallelujah
• it only feels like it lasts forever, but actually does end at some point

I hope to add some items to the positive list by the time this week and a half of riding is through.  Until then, chances are I won't be writing too much, since Kansas is practically uninhabited and I don't expect many wi-fi hot spots.