A baggage handler loading my boxed bike (and half my gear) at the BWI airport, en-route home. I haven't yet opened the box to survey the damage. Tomorrow is soon enough.
4 May 2011. I have mixed emotions as I’m winging my way home. Flying into Jackson, Mississippi, on the first leg of this Southwest flight, I looked down at the dense green vegetation and the rain-swollen rivers and had some pangs of regret that I didn’t get into Louisiana or the truly lush green of the Delta Country. A few of the roads I could see wending their way along creeks and bayous looked pretty inviting.
And, as noted yesterday, I was also disappointed not to end my trip on a train—that would have been a great way to decompress after a month-and-a-half of biking.
But I am also very happy to be heading home to Vermont—to Jerelyn and our golden retriever, Roxy, and the many friends who have sent such good wishes to me on this adventure. Spring has sprung in Vermont, and I can’t wait to see our forsythia in bloom and our redbud in bud.
I’ll also be glad to leave the heat of Texas that I’ve experienced for over 1,000 miles (even though the last two days have been very pleasant). I’ll be glad to stop looking in my rearview mirror, swerving from tractor-trailer slipstreams, and dodging broken Budweiser bottles on the pavement.
The baggage handler had a little trouble dealing with this awkward--and heavy--box at the BWI airport. Southwest only charged $50 for a bike; some airlines charge as much as $200. UPS was going to charge $140.
The trip has been rewarding on many levels, and I’m incredibly grateful to Jerelyn for encouraging and supporting me from my very first suggestion of the idea, to the incredible team at BuildingGreen who have made it possible for me to simply step out of the picture for a while, and to all the readers of this rambling blog who have encouraged me on at important times and offered helpful tips from a distance.
Thank you all.
As for my original purpose of the bike ride, when I set out from San Diego—to reflect on environmental issues, to think about priorities for our company, and to figure out which projects would occupy the rest of my sabbatical—I think that has been satisfied…at least partly. But the miles of reflective contemplation were not quite as I expected.
I spent lots of time contemplating, all right, but more often than not it was about my knees or whether there would be a gas station in the next town where I could buy a Gatoraide or how many miles I was still hoping to cover that day. Much of my thought was in the present—how I was doing and what I was doing—but I’m sure on a deeper level I have gained tremendous insights that will serve me well, not only for the next six months of sabbatical, but in the years and decades ahead as well. This trip will, indeed, be one that will remain with me the rest of my life.
Relative to that deeper thought, the one area in which I really did succeed was in thinking about water: from California’s Imperial Valley and its crops’ dependence on flood irrigation from the Colorado River, to Phoenix’s profligate use of water in the middle of a desert (that image of dockside homes in the City is perhaps the most disturbing of my trip), to the wildfires in West Texas, and the intense drought throughout that huge state. All this has helped me think about just how fragile our dependence on water is in this country—this is something we need to take much more seriously!
I’m already thinking about another bicycle trip—I think that’s a good sign! For that next trip, though, I want to be on a Rail Trail (a bicycle trail created on an abandoned railroad bed). I want to bicycle along without trucks bearing down behind me and without the road noise from all that rubber on pavement.
Perhaps I can even convince Jerelyn to join me!
Postscript: As I finish this blog, I’m sitting in front of our wood stove at home. It’s 45 degrees outside and expected to drop to 37 tonight–with a chance of snow tomorrow! Texas this isn’t–in many ways!
I very much enjoyed reading about your travels, Alex! I think that it’s a great sign that you’re eager to keep riding. Traveling always helps to gain perspective, and that perspective sometimes comes to bear at points much later than your travels, so I wouldn’t be too worried that you didn’t do enough conscious “thinking” along the ride… the value of your trip will percolate with time, I’m sure!
Congrats on enduring the trials and tribulations of weeks of cycling! Know just what you mean about trucks, knees and external conditions beyond your control. You did great getting as far as you did, solo and under pretty extreme conditions. Enjoy your r&r at home and then come out blazin! Good on ya Alex! Dan Peirce
Well, Alex. Welcome home. Many people spend a lot of time sitting on a cushion in lotus position trying to be in the present moment. There is something to be said for practicing that in one’s own way. As the trucks were whizzing by, I’m glad your mind wasn’t wandering too much in the loftier realms of environmental policy.
Alex, thank you for letting us readers of your blog share in your adventures. Every one of your posts was just packed with information about your travels, and gave a real feel for what you were experiencing. I’ve been continually amazed at the detail you provided each day, especially after a hard day on the road each day. Thanks again for letting us be a part of your trip.
Bob Distelberg
Welcome home, Alex! Thanks for the great read on your blog. I lived vicariously the hardest parts of the Southern Tier. I’m sorry you weren’t able to end on the train, too. I found it to be as you were hoping it to be – a reflective and pleasant time. But you will do it in front of your stove instead.
Dot
Congratulations on a successful journey! I enjoyed your every blog posting and especially enjoyed the stories of the people you met along the way. Tis nice to travel, but it is nice to come home too!
Here’s to the knees that got you there and home again – Congratulations!
The time goes by quickly when you are home and reading about someone else’s journey and it’s easier on the body too! Well done all around, Alex, from your informative, consistent and enjoyable blog and photos to your cycling through some tough situations. Welcome back and I hope you find all you seek as you travel through your sabbatical year. Looking forward to seeing you around town one of these day on two wheels or two feet.
Welcome home! I have really enjoyed your blog. If you are back I hope that you will be able to see the bike flicks sponsored by the Putney Bicycle Club at the Hooker Dunham Theater tonight during Gallery Talk. There is a great article in today’s paper.
Makes sense to me that water emerged as the motif of a trip through the southwest. I think a journey through the northwest would have raised consciousness about timber, and one through the midwest about tilth. Each region has its distinct character.
Even if you did not achieve deep thoughts as the miles rolled by, you broke from your routine, which is a great way to start a sabbatical and to clear your mind.
It’s been fun these past 6 weeks reading your daily blog and enjoying some armchair bicycle touring. Glad you made it home safe and sound.
Welcome home Alex! Back where you belong! Did you notice how green it is i VT?
I can’t believe the trip is over, almost before I realized it started. Great to follow through the blog, though it seems you chose to ride through the most boring, and perhaps least bike friendly part of the US. Was that a choice for enhancing meditative reflection?
MEK
Seems like home is where the journey is really going to start. But a great biking adventure also seems like a great prelude.
Can’t wait to talk more about the next part. This last part has been pretty fascinating.
Thanks
jim newman