6/6/10

It rained today, all day. Heavy rain and light rain. We rode from Coburg, around Eugene, to McKenzie Pass.

Initially I thought I'd write about the riding. As I sit and think, my thoughts are led to the people I have seen along the way. I got a glimpse of America today. A good America. An America that I am beginning for the first time to truly love. The waitress at the dinner this morning had a tooth ache, she kept working. A truck driver across from us had a recently shaved head. A scar along the side of his skull, I'm assuming, was from a recent surgery. He got in his truck and drove. He went to work! I'm beginning to see an America that does have standards. It's an America based on being an individual, working when you don't want to work, and striving for a good life.

It rained today, all day. Heavy rain and light rain. Yet, I look back and see a country, my country, as a spectacular place to be.

6/5/10

Like my cancer treatment, the ride across America is dealing with the day to day unknown. It means dealing with the moment, the next city, and not the entire 4200 miles.

I'm filled with uncertainty, but I'm hoping for a good outcome. I feel well, better than I thought.

We left Salom 70 some odd miles ago. I write from camp in Colburg. The ride started with hard climbs which soon flattened to a steady 12-15 mile per hour pace. I cannot begin to describe the beauty of the area. It is one of rich farm land with greenery and distant mountain peaks. The silence is disconcerting yet liberating. I'm tired, I'm scared, I'm free. We're headed for McKenzie Pass in the morning.

6/4/2010

Today was day 1. Pacific City to Salem, Oregon. We did 78 miles with steep climbs that seemed endless to my Texas legs. I was one of the slowest, but given my recent health situation I really don't care. Well, that's not true. I'm scared as hell about being last! Either way, the climbs were a struggle and I have concerns about slowing the group. I have concerns about how I will feel tomorrow. The ride, from what I understand, will be 55 miles. Very tolerable, then again, today was supposed to be 65.

We woke to 50 degrees and rain. As we drove to the coast the sky turned blue and clouds drifted away. The Gods, it seemed, smiled on us as we dipped a tire in the Pacific and began our journey to the Atlantic. We stopped at Otto's, ate a burger the size of a face and hash browns to match. The surrounding town surrendered to the deep green of the mountains while the mountains surrendered to fog. Everything seemed just as it should be in this part of the world.

The beauty of that which is natural seems to transform people. It crawls inside of them opening chambers for peace. There is an ease here, a feel unlike the city where the natural world is secondary to the artificial world of buildings, controlled temperature, and technology. Nature brings order. People seem to assist rather than resist one another.

Tomorrow is the second day. Good grief, how embarrassing to not have the stuff to make it.

6/3/2010

6/3/2010

"Be kind and merciful. Let no one come to you without coming away better and happier."
-Mother Teresa

I'm wiped out! Last night the flight from Houston was delayed a couple of hours. I arrived in Portland around 3:00 a.m. Pacific time. I write from the corner of the hotel room bed. Before me lies a tattered bike box with shifter cables in similar condition. Anyway, my mind is still on teaching and the daily routine with Adriana. It might sound odd, but I'm not even into this thing yet and I already miss her. I wonder what it will be like to not share a morning coffee with her for the next 50 something days and hearing about her day. I'm just so tired from work and travel I'm questioning everything. Tomorrow I ride! I'm scared! I'm everything! Who do I actually think I am to hop on a bike after cancer treatment and ride across the United States?

I don't know what I'm getting into. I suppose I'm living on hope for the next couple of months. Now that I think about it, hope was the very thing I so desperatally needed for cancer treatment. Now wouldn't be a good time to let go of it.

During the course of the trip I wish to express myself with the awareness that I am in the middle of something special. It is a special time in my life. I'm overwhelmed by the support of my family and friends. I'm overwhelmed by the opportunity to rediscover peace while I pedal.

Yellowstone, it is all that!

Every now and then the world opens its doors revealing a splendor beyond words. Pictures, not captions, reveal a depth to life that borders on the extraordinary. I hope you enjoy the pictures of Yellowstone. I hope you discover your version of extraordinary.







The thick smell of sulfur filled the evening air!

A quit evening in a vast land.

Memories ........

Moments after Old Faithful.

Old Faithful!

Good to meet ya' Archie

"Life is a bundle of great little things."

-Oliver Wendell Holmes

There is nothing more pleasant than waking to the sound of a rushing river. This was the case in Oxbow, Oregon as the sun burned off the morning dew and brought to life the smell of sap and pine. A fleece lined jacket took care of the morning chill while a steaming cup of coffee made everything just right.

On the road by 6:30 a.m, we hugged the shoulder as we passed through sun drenched valleys and mountain tops speckled with late season snow. As logging trucks passed with their first load of the day, I was in awe of their cargo; the size, the smell, the years it must have taken the trees to mature. It was a shame to see them hauled away.

With 45 miles on the odometer our pace slowed as we rolled into a diner. A gentleman approached the table. Around 5'6'', he was stooped, with a white beard, and eyes that were soft and kind. He stood with his arms behind his back, made reference to our cycling gear and asked if we were on a trip. I mentioned we were riding for cancer awareness, I was a survivor, and we're riding coast to coast. He listened, nodded, turned, and simply walked away. Slightly baffled, we shrugged and waited for the waitress to appear. She was glad to see we had met Archie. No, he was not the owner. No, he didn't wait tables. In fact, he didn't even work there at all. She said he appeared occassionally, spoke to customers, walked through the kitchen talking to the staff, and cleaned a table every now and then. He was retired and everyone just loved to have him around.

A few minutes later, Archie reappeared. He started speaking of his red Ford Festiva and how it got 48 miles per gallon. He was terribly proud of his daughter as she recently graduated from college. He lives next door to the diner and loves Idaho with all his heart. He is a poet, and this is what he wrote.

The Idaho Invitation

by Archie

Come share it with me

Touch the softness of morning

See the dawn on the meadow

Feel the warmth of the sun

Hear the cry of the Osprey

Hear the trumpeting chorus

Of the Elk in the valley

Know your day has begun

Try rafting the rivers

Glide and sore with the Eagles

Hear the backcountry calling

Make the summit your goal

Feel the skis in the powder

Sing the song of the mountain

Feel the Idaho heartbeat

Creeping into your soul

Come on,

Come and share it with me

Oh! One more thing.

Air so pure you won't want to exhale

With that, Archie paid for our coffee, shook our hands, got in his red Ford Festiva, and lead the group safely through his town.

Slow Down

"Slow down and enjoy life. It is not only the scenery you miss by going too fast-you also miss the sense of where you are going and why."

-Eddie Cantor




Adriana,


I hope all is well in your part of the world. I'm writing from the porch of a hostel in a little town called Mitchell. It's about 80 miles outside of McKenzie Pass. The porch is really cool. The roof extends well beyond the door offering cover from sun and rain. There's a beat up pair of cowboy boots by the door next to a sign that says "Please remove spurrs before walking on wood floors." I don't know what the population is, but I haven't seen more than 10 people since I arrived. Every now and then you see a muddy truck with a dog in the back. The owner hops out and heads in to the burger/bar for a shot of Jack Black, a burger, or to sign up for Friday's amateur boxing night. Anyway, they serve up a burger the size of your face ... well, not yours sweetie ... let's just say the burger was huge! The fries are so big they flex when you pick them up. The guy that served it bought the place about 5 years ago. He didn't seem like the owner of a burger joint to me. He had a thick grey beard that hung to his chest with yellow nicotine stains on his face and fingers. He told me he and his wife moved out there because he had a job on a ranch. The job fell through so they bought the burger place and stayed. It's kind if funny all the twists and turns a person's life will take.

I hope you enjoy the photos! As soon as I get cell phone service I'll give you a call. Talk to you soon.


Love,

Alex