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 Today is July 10, 2006 and
I am sitting in my room at Maxwell AFB. I have been attending
the Air and Space Basic Course here for the last month and have
fortunately had some extra time to finally finish putting
together the complete journal for our journey on the Great
Divide Mountain Bike Route during the past two summers. I’m
grateful for my new career and the future opportunities that it
will provide,
but I also miss my bike.
There honestly has not
been a single day since July 28, 2005 that I have not thought
about my experiences on the Great Divide. I miss hanging out
with my Dad, brother, and cousin. I miss setting my own pace.
I miss waking up in the morning and looking at the map and
wondering how far I would make it that day. I miss lying down
at night thinking about the amazing physical and mental
accomplishments of that day. I miss picking gnats and other
flying insects out of my arm hair after a screaming descent. I
miss pre-paying for those descents with long granny-gear climbs
and hike-a-bikes. I miss the silent solitude and at the same
time the wonderful companionship that you can only experience on
a trip such as this. There is something magical about travel.
There is something even more magical when the travel is
self-propelled and self-supported and it allows you to
accomplish the unimaginable.
This is from my journal
entry during the Machu Picchu trip and it definitely applies
here:
“When we started
yesterday Lucho told us about how this trail was actually a
kind of pilgrimage for the Inca people, in order to get to
their holy city Machu Picchu. I’ve been thinking a lot
about that since we began. I remember when we climbed Mt.
Rainier last summer and I was telling Mom about some of the
beauties there. As far as nature is involved, the most
gorgeous views are not available, at least in my mind, by
car or train or even plane, and even if they were, the
appreciation would not exist like it does when you arrive on
your own power. Beauty like this comes at a price – a very
physical one, and if the physical price seems too large to
pay, the mental one is even greater. I guess my point is
that for me the hike, or the climb, [or the ride], that
“pilgrimage” is a cleansing one. One that has helped me to
get above the dust and the dirt and the clouds of this world
and feel like I am moving in the right direction, step after
step, closer to Him. There is no shortcut, no free ride, it
depends on my desires and my heart, but the destination will
have the most beautiful view imaginable.”
Before June 29, 2004 the
longest bike trip that I had ever been on was probably with my
friends back in middle school when we rode down Yelm Highway to
go to Safeway. And now 2,500 miles later I can’t help but dream
about the next ride…
The Bike Trip
(To the tune of Garth Brooks’ song “The
River”)
Oh I wish I had a dirt bike, with a motor
of its own,
So I wouldn’t have to pedal up these hills
and down below.
You see we left home back in late June, and
we’ll keep riding through July
‘Cause Steamboat’s our destination, here on
the Great Divide
Chorus:
So I will keep on crankin’, till we reach
the next campsite
And I’ll keep my headlamp handy if we ride
into the night.
It’s 10 a.m. and Dad’s still talkin’, these
bike shorts are way too tight,
But I’ll keep on crankin’, till we reach
the next campsite.
My legs are always tired and my butt may
never heal,
But there’s a Subway down in Rawlins, and
that’s my favorite kind of meal!
Chorus.
There is a pass to climb today; it’s always
taller than the last.
But for every struggle uphill, the downhill
ride’s a blast.
So don’t you sit down at the bottom and
tell me that you are bored.
Wait a moment longer, you’ll be run over by
a Ford.
Chorus. |
