29 Jun, 2011
No force is more fundamental in travel than the unexpected. Like all great undertakings, travel consists in the delicate knitting of will and chance. Excursions require extensive preparation, constant study–of routes, landscape, maps, resources, etc.– and determination to see ideas to fruition. Despite this work, all effort is subject to the leveling forces of chance and change. Just as tall buildings must be designed to sway and undulate with the wind or movement of the earth, so great ideas must respond to outside forces. Unlike buildings, trees, or ideas, great travel does not merely react to the unexpected; it lives off of it. Yes– while will forms the mold, the medium for the art of travel is surprise.
It’s been a week full of surprises. My favorite surprises are the little ones: gruff farmers that wave with succinct enthusiasm in the morning light; a hardened cowboy discussing routes confesses his love for bicycles and regret for never doing a tour; a gorgeous woman with long silver hair working in a small town hardware store; a Hispanic field laborer giving his spouse the full-on soldier’s “war is over” bending kiss as he heads out the door in the morning; two dogs chasing a rabbit on an urban walking trail; a surprised grey heron springing to flight within feet of my bike tires as I come around a bend in a road lining a canal. Of course, there are many others. Here are a few.
In case you think that it’s all ponies and sunflowers, let me assure you that all surprises are not pleasant. Try being greeted with a bout of pressing diarrhea and pulling over in urgency to find a steep incline of thick stinging nettles. It worked out quickly, but it was neither pretty, graceful, nor painless.
I also had my first spill. Now, many of you seem to have a sense of Thaddeus’ weight and girth. He does not favor sudden stops or shifts in direction. But his nemesis is the ubiquitous train track. The trick with crossing train tracks on a bike is to be perpendicular to the track. However, in the pouring rain, it is not easy to get perfectly perpendicular to an unmarked track in time before crossing it. A very odd, unseasonable rain seemed like a welcome break from the heat of the Central Valley. However, the oddity of this rain also extended to an absurd amount of water in a short period of time and a day without breaks in that deluge. An unmarked track came out of nowhere with metal all around the track. I slid into the crossing, and my front tire got caught in the second track, which through me down and leveled me before I knew what happened. The handlebar was bent out of line, and one of the grips was drastically tweaked. A tooth of my largest chainring was bent and chipped. One pannier came off. I fixed the handlebar and brakes and worked with a bike shop mechanic to fix the bent tooth. Luckily, there was no traffic on the road. Because of the rain and my attire, I wasn’t even scraped on the metal and pavement. It really just amounted to a slice of humble pie. I pedaled very gingerly into Chico and recovered.
One of the best surprises of the week was my visit to the Swanson winery. Thanks to Thad’s community connection Shannan for connecting me with Elizabeth and Clarke. Those folks could not have been kinder. They put me up in my own house in the middle of the vineyard complete with everything from organic fruit and their wine to a friendly dog named Gator. I only spent one night here, but the tranquil solitude and great company soaked deep within me. They have my immense gratitude for their generosity and kindness. See below for a little sampling.
As always, thank you to my incredible hosts! Thanks especially to Bishop Marc and Sheila Andrus, Stan and Donna Tremewan, Katie Helmstadter, and Erica Martin. You are all incredible, and I treasure our time together.
If you like great adventures and surprises, look no further than the latest blog by my best friend Jordan Jones. SHIPWRECK. Need I say more?! Do yourself a favor and at least peruse the pictures: http://thescenicroutethroughlife.com/ (Story of a Shipwreck)
While chatting with a host over the weekend, we discussed physical changes that my heart has likely undergone in the process of this trip thus far. I thought it was an interesting parallel to what seems to be happening to my capacity for compassion. Perhaps it is the nature of being vulnerable as a traveler. Or maybe it’s from seeing things with the immediacy of travel. Maybe it’s the way in which strangers interact with my motives. Could be the long days of little but the sound of birds and farm equipment. But there is something going on within me. The sabbath has slowed me down. It has strengthened and increased my ability to listen with compassion to those around me. It might be subtle so far, but it seems that the depth will be make a significant impact in the person I am. I have slowed my pace– inside and out– through rest. I suspect that change will benefit both me and those with whom I share the miracle of being alive.
Part of that miracle is its constant surprise. This voyage lives on surprise, and surprise prevents me from assuming that I know, understand, or have power over all events to come. This happens in our relationships as well. We assume we know everything about our friends and loved ones, and in so doing, we lose touch with the changes in their lives and the currency of that relationship. Surprises shake us from that ennui. So can mindfulness, which is fed by rest. Sabbath. We need it. I am learning to love it.
Thanks for joining me for another round!
Until we meet again
more rested and restored than we imagined possible.