Touring Tunes

Petunia is stretched out on the foot of the cozy bed in a little hotel in Savannah, Georgia tonight. She’s breathing peacefully, tipped belly-up, after another long day of playing with her soft little lamb squeaker, eating snacks and kibbles, snoozing, and travelling many miles across two state lines. But this time, she hasn’t been riding in the dog pod on the bicycle. Instead, our faithful two-wheeler is strapped to the back of our fully-loaded car. We’re on a tour of another variety this year. Just about all of our earthly possessions (including all of Tunes’s beloved outfits and toys) have been packed into my car, and we headed south out of Connecticut about a week ago, stopping to visit friends and couch surfing with strangers in states and cities previously unseen, seeking adventure, planning shorter-term bike tours and excursions and, ultimately, making our way across the country yet again to settle somewhere new. For now, anyway.

Before I begin recounting some of our new tales, I suppose I should comment on the end of the 2015 Northern Tier tour. I stopped writing for no particular reason about after having a wonderful stay at the unforgettable Bicycle Bunkhouse in Minnesota. The TL;DR version of the end of that summer-long tour: I rode to North Dakota, and then did some hitchhiking to bypass the incredibly hot, flat, treeless Badlands. Cycled off and on through Montana, fell in love with the singing cowboys and cowgirls in Great Falls, was wooed by the boundless natural beauty of Glacier National Park, scored some beautiful campsites, met some amazing WarmShowers hosts and friends, and eventually reached the coast of Oregon at Seaside. From there, I caught a lift into Portland, where I stayed and became enamored with the city. My days were spent in a summery bliss: I day-cycled to redolent rose gardens, pedaled to bustling dog parks, hit the zany food trucks, volunteered for the WAVE Foundation (Women Against Violence Everywhere), pitched in at a local organic brewing festival, and explored scenic campgrounds and stunning mountain views with previous-bike-tour friends.

  
  
  
  

  
 I forged deeper connections that held me happily in Portland for almost a month, but my Rose City relocation dreams were deferred after I ended my tour and returned to New Jersey briefly. Happily, and with thanks to all of the generous supporters of the 2015 fundraiser part of the cross-country trip, we sent a check for $1,277 to GearingUp, and they sent us a very sweet thank-you letter. We’d hoped to get down to Philly to ride with the women in the program and some of the staff, but we were sadly unable to make our schedules match. By late fall, life’s tortuous path led me back to my home state of Connecticut in the fall, where I stayed for a couple of months. The winter there was not brutal, but quite cold, and I spent too much time alternately shut inside or getting windbeaten and weathered on the sub-zero nights I spent stargazing. But during those months, I heard my heart dreaming again and decided it was time to find roots and roads elsewhere. I gave away most of what I owned, fit the essentials (and then some) into a new-to-me ’04 station wagon that I hoped would withstand my plans for it, kissed ma and pa goodbye, and headed south with my best buddy.

  
First, we spent a couple of days visiting a dear friend in Harrisonburg, Virginia. Dawn and her effusively excitable and heartily muscled dog Olive welcomed us to the home city of James Madison University. Tunes and I got back on the bike to gleefully spin around the campus, feeling fresh and new as giddy freshmen. We took our time in the freshly blooming arboretum, decadently dined alfresco for the first time in 2016, and I experienced the deliciousness of local beer and made acquaintances with some nice folks who wanted to meet the little dog in the bike basket. Aside from cycling, I spent time working on some consulting projects, which my incredibly cool boss had allowed me to continue to do remotely to support myself during my new phase of wanderlust. Dawn’s envious collection of books and movies also occupied my time, and I even reveled in a couple of academic experiences on campus. I got attend a talk by a distinguished English department professor after another prof’s reading of an excerpt from his new novel, and caught a documentary on misogyny in the media in a lecture hall with fussy computer technology. Tunes got to do some trail running with me at the local park, and plenty of dodging of Olive’s ebullient jump-stomping that served as her socially awkward entreaty to play play play! Play now, please play, play with me!.

  
  
  

After a few happy days out of the car, we buckled up and continued south to Asheville, North Carolina, a hipped out town that I’ve always wanted to see firsthand. We certainly have some stories from that trip… so the blog and the travels shall continue as Touring Tunes sojourns on!

With a sense of deja vu, I headed toward the Mississippi River again, and this time heading due east after leaving my new friends in Minneapolis. To get back on the ACA route meant braking down and crawling up the severe parabola of the river valley and getting back on the Wisconsin side of things. Before hauling over the bridge and up north and skyward again, I met a family of three enjoying a sunny stroll in Stillwater. The woman in the group knew the area I was from back East and compared the quaintness of this artsy, touristy, small-shop center to my own little funky town on the Delaware River. I felt a few ripples of nostalgia for the familiarity of family, friends, my neighbor and the sweet little New Jersey farm cottage I rent next to her home. I missed the summers there, surrounded by tall deciduous trees and a manicured lawn adorned by hostas, lilacs and lilies, visited by cheerful hummingbirds, butterflies, and deer.  

  
Just 20-30 miles on to Osceola, I stopped to make lunch and catch up on a few things like laundry and writing and work after days of visiting and riding and fantastic experiences non-stop. So I hit the laundromat, popped into the small grocery store to replenish dog and human food, and stopped by the library, where I quietly sat with Tunes on my lap without incident. I thought I had a lead on camping behind the volunteer emergency services building, but was told that some board member or vetoed the idea, citing liability concerns. Still, one of the very kind volunteers, Luke, a young and tall sunflower of a midwesterner, helped steer me to a campground, where I ended up meeting a nice group of Eagle Scouts who were cycling across country as a fundraiser for an organization that supports American Veterans, a man who was riding along as a chaperone, and a woman driving their hefty support vehicle. 

 Falls in Osceola: 
The next day, I planned my own route from St. Croix Falls, WI to get back to the Northern Tier ridemp in MN. Along the way, a charming couple in Taylors Falls made a donation to Gearing Up. A few miles later, the driver of an SUV slowed down to call to me, “I’m so jealous of you right now!” and I yelled back, “I’m pretty jealous of myself!” The morning fog had lifted and the sun was shining brightly, the hills invited a pleasantly muscular engagement, and I merrily rolled along in a wide shoulder on a very lightly traveled road. I’d started listening to The Picture of Dorian Gray and was giggling at some of Oscar Wilde’s fancilful language along the way, and after a few hours, I was at mid-day and in a very small town. I thought it was time for a PBJ, but instead I pulled up to the little café in town. Two women identified themselves as locals and recommended that this was a good place to get some “home style cookin,” and not just because it was essentially the only place for quite a few miles. So I went in to order take out for me and Tunes, and when the server handed it to me, she said another customer had already paid for my lunch. I couldn’t help myself- some happy tears were shed for all the help I’ve been given and the kindness I’ve been shown in the last two months. Then I got a group hug from the waitresses. Thank you, humanity, thank you, universe!
But the real kick was around 3-4 PM, when I was approaching a place on my map that was listed as a special “cyclists only lodging” site, which has usually meant a free cyclists hostel or church that has opened its doors to cross-country riders, or some other setup which has usually resulted in a memorable meeting and stay. I was on the fence about quitting so early in the day with only 50-something miles down, when alongside a blazingly bright and eerily empty country road a short line of trees in front of a remote farm house, and from behind them stepped out a young man in a familiar cycling jersey…. Bike and Build again! I was laughing hard as I cornered into the driveway at the lodge’s address, and came upon what looked like a pile of melting college kids, and they greeted me with laughter and reciprocal exclamations. They usually have partnered with churches so they sleep indoors, but on this occasion we were all together in this beautiful converted barn which bore the sign “Bicycle Bunkhouse.”

   
 And a glorious bunkhouse it was. Donn Olson tells the story of his haven for Northern Tier riders coming through Dalbo, MN: http://youtu.be/ezcyY6BGlik

   
   
The bustling effervescence of the B&B crew plus the beautiful farm and meticulously landscaped surroundings made for a festive evening. Under the cover of darkness, I wrote the gang a silly chalk note in the margins of the street for their early departure the next day. We wondered if we’d see each other again, but I suspected it might be our last chance encounter. But who knows? Stranger things have happened. The day they left, Don invited me to take a day off there, so I took him up on the offer and did some maintenance, writing, reflecting and relaxing. Don even helped me clean my chain. “Minnesota Nice is real!” I exclaimed to him, and he laughed jovially.  I found an old guitar in the attic of the barn and sang my heart out in the hay and then in the empty silo, where the reverb and acoustics were so fabulous, I sounded halfway decent. 

   
    
  
I got back on the road the next day and encountered my first sand hill cranes, huge winged creatures that I saw briefly but heard lots of and was amused by their call and response cackling. 

  
By sweaty day’s end, I arrived in Bowlus, MN. Camping in the park would’ve cost $10 or $20, but the nice folks at the very bike friendly restaurant called  

 Jor 

 
 
 
Song of the day: The Blue Nile – I Love This Life

Song of the day: Benny Goodman and his Orchestra with Peggy Lee- We’ll Meet Again. 

I rode off from La Cresent with a set of hand-written cue sheets that host Knute had drawn up as an alternate route that would get me back on the less-hilly road beyond the construction. Other notes suggested a scenic ride Judy suggested on the Wisconsin side of the river, which they both thought had much better views, plus it had a great place to get ice cream. At my first intersection, I was considering the directions to go down a steep looking hill, when from behind, a lightly tattooed young man in an stylish black kit on an ultra-light racing bike, pulled up and asked if I needed help. Justin saw me considering turning down the road to the right, but counseled that it was a twisty category 3 climb (I looked it up after he rode off) that might be dangerous with my heavy load, and that there was more traffic at the bottom. He suggested I go left, where a freshly paved road and a Kwik Trip were ahead. He  said he’d already busted out 80 miles on his carbon bike by 11am and lived just around the corner, so I took his advice, which kept me on the ACA route anyway. I’d already been spared one hill, so what were a few more?

 After a while, I swung over off the route in MN to WI, which ended up being a theme for the next couple of days, my trail zigzagging between the two states based on scenic ratings and free camping availability.  Knute and Judy had confirmed that the bridges I’d be on weren’t treacherous steel grate ones, although there were some of those around as an attempt to deal with the mayfly problem. My hosts informed me that when the mayflies emerge from the river to mate, they die shortly thereafter, their carcasses littering the roadways so densely that sometimes they pile up inches high, and snowplows have been employed to clear the roads of the dead bugs. So steel grate bridges mean the bugs fall through intead of heaping up and causing car accidents. They were totally not making that up.

Anyway, I had been waiting for so many states to use the That 70s Show theme song clip coz I’m dorky like that:

   
 The Wisconsin side was certainly beautiful, and I zipped along the flat road, pulling an easy but hot 70 miles, spotting some huge rock faces in the bluffs and even stopping to take time to call my mom and check some emails. Before we crossed the bridge back into the MN side for the night, we stopped for ice cream and cheese at the sweet local place suggested by my hosts. Tunes got vanilla, and I got mint chocolate chip. 
   

   Across the bridge in Wabasha, MN, the map had suggested we could free camp in the city park, but Adventure Cycling had mislabled it Beaver Park instead of Beach Park, so we finally called the local PD who told us what the deal was. It was such a great site! With a cute little sandy beach alongside the riverbank, a clean, grassy park with a couple of covered pavilions next to a busy boat marina was home for the night. The city had  also provided a public bathroom adjacent to the park that had a shower! And it was clean and the water was warm! Nicest of all, Tunes and I sat and watched the sunset downriver before curling up for the night.

   
    I took some time to write in the morning and talked to a few people who were curious about my trip, enjoying a languid start before crossing the bridge back into WI for more sightseeing. About mid-afternoon, I saw a cyclist with a familiar jersey….. and lo and behold, it was the Bike and Build crew again! I’d first met them on our way to Bowling Green, Ohio, and though we weren’t following the exact same route, It was serendipitous to run into them again. It seemed I’d left somewhat of an impression on some these 24 cyclists, and part of the group encouraged me to come over and get some free snacks and treats from their van (thanks again, y’all). They were crashing at a church in Pepin, WI, but I was still hoping to move it another 20-30 miles up some 400′ climbs to a tree nursery that permitted free camping. I ate and ran, having enjoyed their company for a little while, with still more work ahead and less daylight. 

Along the way, I met a group of three self-supported touring cyclists in their 50s on some sort of recumbent-like bikes at a gas station rest stop. They were going the opposite way, riding the Mississippi River Trail, and we swapped road stories for a little while. One of the women in the group was fully covered, head-to-toe, in sun-protective bike wear, including a loose neck and face cover. “I want to keep doing this forever,” she said, “and not get all sunburned and wrinkled and look old.” I considered my own seriously over-tanned legs, mid-thigh to ankle, and the deepening smile lines around my mouth, abundance of freckles and moles, and even the hint of a sunspot. I greased on another layer of sunscreen and pressed on. 

   
   The last climb before the nursery was actually fun. I’d been listening to another audio book about the late Peace Pilgrim, a woman from New Jersey who I’d heard about on NPR a while back, and had been reminded of her by my recent host Mike. She was a non-denominational activist who walked for 28 years, and was also the first woman to hike the Appalachian Trail in one season. I’d thought of her when I met a peppy tween in Colesburg, IA who told me, “It’s probably really crazy, probably impossible, but I want to hike the Appalachian Trail someday.”  I countered immediately, “Oh no, that’s not impossible at all, and if youreally want to do it, I believe youcould find a way. Impossible is nothing,” I said as encouragingly as possible, throwing in a Muhammad Ali quote my dad has on a poster at his place in CT.

 She walked more than 25,000 miles, carrying in her blue tunic her only possessions. She crossed America for nearly three decades, bearing the simplest of messages: This is the way of peace–Overcome evil with good, and falsehood with truth, and hatred with love.

Peace Pilgrim talked about peace among nations, between people, and the most important Inner Peace.

Penniless, walking with no organizational backing, Peace Pilgrim touched the lives and hearts of countless thousands of Americans. Some were charmed by her simple but cheerful presence; many others were profoundly inspired by her message and her lifestyle.

While it was deeply inspirational to listen to her story, I was ready to change gears and listen to some motivational music for the last climbs and to drown out the throngs of weekend motorcyclists who were roaring by me, two-wide and many long. Just as I started ascending, Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody came on, a goofy favorite I liked to sing with my boss and her family when we felt silly. Keeping my breathing going, I belted it out in impressively bad falsetto while still getting enough air to keep going. The length of the song was just a little shy of the length of my climb, with its sprawling musical denouement timed just about perfectly with my own summit sighting. Perfection, Freddie Mercury! 

At the nursery, the owner told me I could pitch the tent anywhere but recommended the spruce tree maze, which sounded like fun. I ate the bagel Bike n Build had given me, with peanut butter and jelly and bananas and a packet of honey that dripped off and stuck to everything, and charged my phone and devices. For her part, Tunes ran around in happy circles, zooming around their cute wooden playground, weaving around fences, and chasing the squeaker toy. We’d lost another tennis ball along the way, but I was sure we’d come by another one before too long. After dusk, I put my headlamp on and Tunes followed me as I ventured into the maze, but the sign said it would take about 30 minutes to complete, and I wasn’t sure I had the energy or the spine to go all the way through. It had been decorated for Halloween still, and the big fake cobwebs kind of gave me the creeps. I listened to some fun local radio for a little bit, had a garden hose shower, and fell fast asleep under a clear, starry sky.

The owner of Nesbitt’s Nursery came by in the morning, and he shared that he was a cyclist, and so we shot the breeze for a while as I packed up my gear and let my dewy tent dry in the sharp morning sun. I’d just gotten an exciting confirmation that I had the green light to make a special diversion off route and into Minneapolis. Last year at the very end of my TransAm/West Coast ride, I happened to run into a festively-costumed couple headed to a superhero party in The Bay Area. We chatted, hit it off, I tagged along with them on the tails of their capes, and after a colorful and late night out, they welcomed me to stay at their place in Oakland. We’d stayed in touch on Facebook, and Sean had just texted me that indeed, we’d be around Minneapolis at the same time, as he and Michelle were on vacation and visiting his family. I asked the owner of the nursery for some advice on routing into the city, and he cautioned me about one stretch that was a four-lane divided state route. It was going to be a good haul with some slow climbing, but I was pretty sure I could make it. 

Nesbitt’s parents were cyclists and he showed me this super sweet throwback photo:

   
As I went up and over the first climb of the day, my roll was slowing down when I saw some sidewalk chalk revealing a message that appeared like the Star Wars opening crawl, cautioning cyclists to be careful of the gravel ahead, inviting them to lunch, and then suddenly, it addressed me by name! I was laughing so hard when I pulled into the dusty parking lot when I again saw the Bike and Build van and trailer, and route leader Allison was there to offer me breakfast (she was waiting for the riders to get there for lunch, but it was still only 9 or 10 AM). I raided their stash for some watermelon, an orange, and a brownie. Breakfast of champions! I thanked them for including me. “Back in Ohio, you said you’d probably see us again, but I didn’t believe you. Guess I do now!” she laughed with me. I told her the story of how I met 2014’s Bike and Build group in Lander, Wyoming, and then a couple of days later they’d let us camp on the lawn of the church where they were staying. Then, a month or two later, I was riding down the coast of California when a car pulled up ahead of me and flagged me to stop. In the passenger seat was Meghan, one of the B&B riders! She’d finished her trip and happened to be in CA visiting some friends, said she’d recognized Petunia from the rear. We were happy for the surprise reunion. “Well, maybe I’ll see you guys again. Stranger things have happened!” I said to Allison as I pedaled off.   

Some of the route was indeed a little sketchy, riding alongside fast-moving cars, but there was plenty of shoulder, and not much makes me really stressed out when I’m riding anymore. People mostly give me room, and if there’s a good shoulder, I feel better than riding in their lane, and I have my high-visibility clothes and stickers and reflective yellow slow-moving-vehichle triangle, and rearview mirror to keep an eye out behind me to anticipate cars and make sure drivers are giving me room. That said, by mid-day I pulled over to a fast-food restaurant and fed Petunia a bacon and burger patty in case it was our last meal. She didn’t seem stressed by any of it, and was somehow even napping during some of the busy stretches. But it turned out to be a good stop– two members of a nice family made a donation to my Gearing Up fundraiser. 

  
 The rest of the ride into the city was interesting, because there were so many dedicated bike paths, paved and separate from the road, which felt weirdly like riding on a sidewalk, which is generally a no-no for bicycles. But it felt a lot safer in the city than trying to get from the farms into the city’s periphery. Petunia and I stopped frequently and played in some of the many parks and lakes (Minnesota is not kidding about the 10,000 lakes thing). Around 6 PM, I arrived just as Sean and Michelle, along with their three kids, Evan, Lelah, and Jane, pulled up to Sean’s folks’ house in a cute neighborhood in Shoreview. Sean’s parents, Jeanette and Pat, welcomed me so openly, and I got big hugs from Michelle and Sean. What a crazy reunion! We were joined by a few other family members, Amy, her husband and son, and the festivities began. We ate pizza and a delicious salad, the kids had fun with Petunia playing fetch and chase, we all got to play with sparklers as it started to get dark (a pyrotechnic first for me), and I was regaled with adventure stories from Sean and Pat, including a few tales of grizzly bear encounters, which unsettled but excited me as I was planning on heading west into brown bear territory once again. To cap the fantastic night off, we relaxed in the hot tub for a while and I let some sore muscles get massaged by the jets, the group talking and catching up late into the night. What a lovely family. I was so grateful to have met them. They fed me in the morning and gave me some mapping advice, a neighbor came by to offer me a brownie, and in the interest in getting me safely out of the city, Jeanette and Pat loaded my bike on their bike rack and drove me a few miles out to the bike path that would reconnect with my route. Really amazing people. I’m so excited I got to meet them and catch up with Sean and Michelle! “It’s not a bike tour without partying with you guys,” I said before Tunes and I hit the road again, already thinking of future tours somehow.  

    
Pictures from Jeanette: