Retrospect: Leg 6 from Erie, PA to the Atlantic Ocean

Map and Pics:  Click Here for Map and Pics.

628 Miles, 24700 feet of climb , Days 44-52, PA, NY, VT, NH, ME

Finishing Well, Beginning Even Better!  
(Erie, PA to Portsmouth, NH and a side trip to Maine)

 

Our daily routine had become so much a part of us that we lost track of days, but we did 

Bill, my room buddy, in Troy, NY

notice an increase in traffic and a decrease in services. I suspect that when AbB budgeted out the ride they set aside only so many dollars per day per person for lodging. That might explain why the quality of the lodging took a dive during the last leg; the same dollars that got good lodging or a meal in the heartland just doesn’t buy much in New England. Even with two of the most challenging days of the ride, SAG stops were farther apart or skipped altogether. The official reason was that AbB experience over the years proved out that they weren’t needed. I didn’t get that memo…

I was hurting and could have used more support. But we weren’t in the desert, and I stopped when I needed. As we headed east the landscape became more urban and riddled with seemingly illogical routes. I started to wonder if engineers in New England ever considered the novel idea of constructing roads that actually went due east and west, or intersections that met at 90 degree angles. I relied on my cell phone to confirm my locations – my bike GPS wasn’t up to the task. Over the last 40 days I had become spoiled by the attention the AbB staff on meeting the needs of the riders. Now the staff’s outlook was focused on all the logistics required for the ride closeout – no trivial task.

They weren't road bikes, but the
sign was cute

I really got some strange looks when one of the logistics questions was “How are you getting your bike home?” Several times going up the grades of the White Mountains I considered myself ‘cured’ of ever wanting to ride a bike again. I mentioned I was thinking of selling my bike in Portsmouth, NH. The reaction I received from my fellow riders was unbelief, as if I was selling my first-born child into indentured service. Three riders told me later quietly that I needed to keep the bike no matter what – it would be a family treasure later in life, and if not for me, certainly my kids. I must say in reflection those boys were right and am very glad I kept the bike.

I found it very strange that even though surrounded daily by them I started to miss my riding buddies. The reality that the ride was almost over loomed large, and I found myself wanting to spend more time with them rather than meeting new people. One of the guys that started in Erie was Steve, and we spent a lot of ride time together. He had retired from several interesting careers and was a master conversationalist; much like Canada Dave at the beginning of the ride – the perfect bookends for this adventure of a lifetime.  I have to hand it to Steve, he really hung in there.

This is what I meant by the pack of the elite riders.
Note: Claire is in front (because Frans broke away
from the pack to take the picture!)

I hypothesized that this last week was harder on the other riders than me. Many of them were part of packs that had gotten to know each other very well. During the last dash to the ocean I joined them and could not get over all the chatter between the riders. (I also couldn’t get over how much less effort it took to ride when others are pushing the wind out of the way for you.)  I could postulate about that all day… With deeper roots sprouting from daily togetherness I would expect deeper separation anxiety. All I know was that my cup was filled to the brim with it; I suspect I had a mild case compared to others. Some friendships I hope to be life-long.

Riding up the White Mountains (and white road)

My internal question morphed from “‘Will I Finish?” into “Will I Finish Well?” I thought much about what finishing well would look like during some lonely sections riding over the Green and White Mountains. The obvious negative was not to tick others off in words or deed as to ostracize myself. The positive transformation of the problem would be difficult. Frans led the way with filling the obvious void from the challenge: a specialized jersey to commemorate the accomplishment. Norm said he would take the lead on setting up a photo repository. Many have blogs, to include me. I was thinking of publishing mine and sending a copy to each. I think each rider will seriously complete the post ride survey to improve the fates for riders in future years. When Claire and I talked about this and she redirected my question in other directions, suspecting the needs of female riders was going to be addressed in her own way. ‘Finishing well’ was already ‘In the bag’; the tire was all but dipped, and the accomplishment spoke for itself. The real question evolved into “Will I start over well?” in meeting the challenge of returning home, getting back to being a productive employee, and maintaining new friendships. Bucket lists should never be exhausted, and regrets should be nothing more than still waiting for the opportunity for success to arise.

So, did I accomplish my four initial goals? Generally, mission accomplished, sort of. Specifically, my

Church on the Green

mission changed. When my friends and family told me to write more about people and less about places, my blog blossomed. It went from duty to delight; from chore to choice. My pre-ride goal to craft my historical fiction tomes slipped off the priority list as I discovered the trip wasn’t about where, but who; it wasn’t about how, it was about with. With that change also came a change in me.

The unsatisfied goal that dogged me the most was keeping my faith in an environment where I was totally without control. My job was to pedal, not plan; to meet their schedules, not others meeting mine. Other than setting the temperature of my bath water, the rest of the details of life were set for me. I deeply missed carpooling with my bride to and from work as well as my seven day cycle of breakfast with the guys or evenings at the gym. I had to dive into the strange and daunting world of text messaging and cell-phone pictures. Totally foreign. Daily study time (as in predawn quiet time) was not an option, or always eating supper between four and six in the evening - gone. The only news I wanted to know about was tomorrow’s weather forecast. I was so used to being surrounded by like-minded people at work, play, or church. When surrounded by smokers, tattooed ladies, or Harley riders I really had to ‘wing it’ all the way. (By the way, never ask a lady which is her favorite tattoo; hint: it ain’t one you can see.)



Some of the 'Good Guys'

To my shame, my Christianity went underground on this trip, or maybe not. I was not ordained to be the ride’s evangelist; nor would any such overtures be welcomed. Worse, it would have been embarrassing to both me and God if I talked about how the Almighty answered my daily prayers for strength and courage when I was so often on the verge of quitting. In retrospect, God had more faith in me than I had faith in me. He did pull it off. It was no small task of keeping me in the game. In hindsight, it is now obvious that He chose others to keep me keeping on. Amazing. He showed me the goodness in America but not in the places and people where I expected to find it. They happened to be Dutch, Texans, east coast dwellers, west coast dwellers, Canadians, British, and even (gasp) a guy from Delaware.

Fellow friends in the faith at the Sharks Ice Cream Parlor

As a consolation, there were six times on the ride I was asked about a joy that resides within me, but not in that exact sentence construct. I guess it showed (I don’t know how), and it wasn’t my joy, it was a gift given to me. This is where I was so wrong when I started this adventure. I thought for sure that God was sending me on this trip to ‘be a witness’ in the churchy definition of the phrase. I was so wrong. In the end, He guided me to be both an encourager and to be the encouraged. My helplessness humbled me, the beauty of the country overwhelmed my senses, and the pure joy from exchanging goodness with others was what He really wanted me to experience.

Mission accomplished.