A great friend by any measure of the word drove 5 hours to the Adirondaks to remove me from the mountains and return me to the NH soil that just days ago I thought for certain I would not see again, at least any time soon. This morning I trashed supplies no longer of value then biked into Concord where I packaged and shipped my loaded panniers from a post office and my bike from an in-town bike shop, both bound for Oregon, but to arrive long after I do, as I take this bus ride down to Logan where at 6:05 PM a Continental flight will spirit me away to Portland for a midnight arrival 10 hours later. And as I dismantle in stages what was just a day ago my lifeblood and powertrain, I feel my internal compass slip from what was once certain to what is now unknown. Now, with no permanent address and one small bag packed with a few articles of dirty clothing that I carry with me, I feel both unhinged and completely free.
The most difficult aspect of a long distance bike trip is quitting it. The gear that one brings while on tour is kept light and has one singular purpose – to propel forward a bike. Many parts of the trip are in less populated areas of the country that lack public transportation and wireless services. I spent 5 days in the heart of the Adirondaks with cleated bike shoes too stiff and awkward to hike in and one pair of off-bike clothes that smelled of bug spray and smoke. I rode 3 miles several times a day to and from one small diner with the only wireless reception in the area and did little else. In other words, once you quit it is difficult to get home and you are unprepared to do anything where you currently are.
Even after deciding that the trip was over I didn’t behave as if the trip was over. Three days ago I packed to make a run west for Raquette Lake, feeling completely rested and restless. But I again woke up to the fact that I inevitably could not secure vegan food. In only a short amount of days the hard work would have been done and I would have been out of the grueling mountains and into a long stretch of flat land, traveling past Niagra and the Great Lakes, on my way to the Mississippi.
It is not worth wondering whether or not I could have made it were food not the great limiter. Many people have worked hard and completed the trip whereas I barely scratched the surface. Having to lay up in NY for 3 days due to the holiday I suspect most likely I would have run out of time. I think to how it never occurred to me that I would meet with difficulty in securing vegetable-based food. During the test drive through Maine it seemed every gas station at least stocked Clif bars and most towns had a supermarket with produce. An early warning was my first night in Danbury where I had to go without dinner as well as the campground in Gaysville that was fully stocked but had not one item of food that I could consume. But most of the trip prior to NY was through tourist or college towns or in a state with a healthy local farming presence (VT), so this hid the problem.
Anyway, that’s it, I’m done with this crazy notion and happily moving on. I’ll end by touching on several things that I learned during the short time from Bar Harbor to Newcomb.
1. People are nice. Nothing gets people more interested in you then a fully loaded bike. I had great conversations with people many times a day, from the Danbury Inn to the Ticonderoga ferry, and met a handful of people who had done their own long distance bicycle touring. In Middlebury a women offered me free lodging at her and her husband’s home in town and in Newcomb I joined a group of people from Stamford CT for a dinner of Columbian roasted veggies and beer.
2. Set goals but don’t rush. I felt great reward by targeting a distant town and reaching it that day. I pushed myself on several days through many miles beyond where I thought I could get to and arriving in town was like a sweet gift from the Angel of Poop Shangle. Other days I didn’t make the distance, but inevitably would make up the loss the next day. In yoga they call it “honoring your body”. I just call it respecting yourself and your potential.
3. Most tap water has chlorine, even at campgrounds. After a while this gets hard to drink and leaves your throat feeling dry. This is an unfortunate result of our deteriorating water quality.
4. Our state and national parks are a treasure. I don’t take advantage of them as much as I should. The rangers in the parks are decent and considerate people. On the other hand, private campground owners are eccentric and sometimes socially awkward. On average, of course. Still, they are fun to observe and talk to as well.
5. Objects I would leave behind next time – none, I think everything that I brought was essential. Though I was able to wash my clothes every night and they would be dry by morning, I think a second set is good for a backup following long periods of biking in the rain. Or when you are discouraged and residing long-term in the Adirondaks. I would get a new tent. The tent I brought must have been designed for camping on the side of a mountain. It actually drank water from the ground. I swear, I set it up on dry land and an hour later there was a puddle in the tent and when I moved it the ground was wet. I think it sucked the water up from some ancient aquifer.
6. Objects I would bring next time I do a trip – my phone had gps, but this was unusable when I didn’t have service. Also, using the phone GPS deteriorates the same battery that you may need to use for making a reservation or emergency call. Getting lost on a bike sucks, especially in the mountains. Each mile that you travel incorrectly is a mile that you need to backtrack, and all of it is propelled by your tired and shaking legs. I would consider getting a good GPS system. One that includes topography. When I was in Middlebury planning my NY trip I hadn’t a clue how truly dreadful the mountains would be. As a result some days that I had pegged at 80 miles would have actually taken me 2 days to trek. Inevitably this leads to an inability to make reservations at lodging spots in advance, which almost bit me in the ass in Newcomb on the Fourth of July weekend.
Aside from GPS, I would have brought a cold weather shell. For sandals I would have gotten a pair that can be worn for hiking as well. Finally I would have brought a shotgun, which I would have strapped to my back and used liberally on the logging trucks that passed too close to my bike at speeds that only a well trained bullet can exceed.
7. Objects that I will never travel without. My Droid Incredible without a doubt. With maps, phone, lodging reviews and much more at my immediate access I don’t know how people used to tour without one. Only drawback is the battery life, which is short. The hazard yellow rain jacket with removable sleeves doubled as an early morning safety vest. The alcohol stove that ran on denatured alcohol, which was easy to restock in any town with a hardware store (which small towns tend to have). My audio recorder, which I used for keeping an audio diary as well as record the ambiance of towns and remote places. My multi-tool for fixing the bike. Finally, the Dromdary bag, which held my water supply for the long journeys. Without it I would have been dehydrated on the worst of days. The Surly Nice racks and Ortlieb panniers, which were sturdy as hell.
8. An easy and tasty dinner – boil pasta (elbow shape so that it fits in a camping-sized pot) with a bullion cube and some broccoli florets (if you can find produce). Eat as is once pasta is cooked.
9. Companionship – I consider myself an independent person (in the sense of need for company, though I of course recognize that we are all dependent on a multitude of things in order to live) but there is something to be said for company. If taking a trip consider real hard inviting somebody that shares your level of endurance. Preferably somebody that you will not get annoyed with. I enjoyed immensely the test drive that I did with my wife. Conversely I am happy I did the trip solo as it would have been even harder to quit if I had a partner. So, if you do get a partner ask them if they are vegan and if they planned food drops. If not, consider that bastard tainted.
Finally, thank you to those of you that posted your words of encouragement throughout this trip. I am very stubborn and not one to quit on things and this decision to stop the trip has been very difficult. All things move on but now in the moment it feels like this dream of mine died too easy on the vine.
Well done, Dan. Enjoy the new leg of your journey. I’m sure you and Chilly will have wonderful adventures in Oregon. Just don’t forget those of us who love your blog and look forward to your next step in life. So when is the book coming out? Love, Mom
I thought I might be following your ambitious adventure a little further than you actually went, but I tip my hat to you just the same. I have done a fair amount of traveling, but never by bicycle, and I knew that there would be many hardships on your journey. Some you encountered, some you were spared. I understand your disappointment. I understand your desire in wanting to go on and your frustration in realizing that you shouldn’t. Even though your intelligence tells you that you have made the right decision, still the heart of the warrior wants to press onward. But I would have you remember my namesake who overcame many obstacles in his journey only to come to the realization that – despite the fact that he could have continued on had he chose to – it was time for him and his men to go home. so as difficult as it must have been for that great warrior, he rode Traveller to Appamattox Court House and abandoned the fight with dignity. In the days and years that followed I do not believe the great General second guessed his decision for an instant, and neither should you. Move on and give it not a second thought, young traveler. Traveller
quite the experence. don’t giveyour decision a second thought.
i look forward to the blog entries from the train trip and adventure in oregon
Dan,
I’ve been to Middlebury (my wife schooled there). It’s a beautiful, colorful, scenic and quiet little slice of heaven on Earth that, frankly, affects you, causing you to reshuffle your priorities a bit (especially when you’re freshly claimed, err, smitten). Not quite coincidentally, choosing worldly bliss over backwoods backbreaking biking has been rated as a fine decision by four out of five living people (the fifth was unconscious in a backwoods emergency shelter at the time of the survey …) In any case, your “attempt” far surpassed all of my exquisite planning and “preparing” for my “perfect” opportunity over the last 23.6 years!
I salute with a Chinese one handed clap as my other arm is tilting a cold one to you!
-Jeff-
Danny Boy!! Not to worry lad. If you couldnt find vegan in the Adirondecks (Home away from home for most NYC’ers) can you imagine what kind of food you would not be able to find in North Dakota, Iowa.. etc. Land of the Veinreschneizal and Bratts.
All the best lad
TCS
You sir have still biked farther than most people – don’t let go of that.
On a disturbing aside, your site was blocked as inappropriate at your old haunt. I cried a little.
Those capitalist fatcats can’t keep me silenced. I’ll find other ways to skirt around their concrete bosom.