Surprises

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.

I crossed the Golden Gate Bridge in the wee hours last Thursday morning. When I arrived in Marin, I thought I'd take the opportunity to soak up the tourist vista of SF in rare solitude. As I was setting up my tripod for a shot, this crew of curious folks crossed the empty parking lot and jumped into conversation. Hailing from Thailand and India, they were good companions for a beautiful morning. 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.

During a rainy rest stop between Yuba City and Chico, a crop duster buzzed just over my head. This was his third turn, which was farther away, but still exciting. In a chance conversation with a pilot while playing shuffleboard in one of Chico's finest establishments last night, I learned that the plane was likely distributing rice seed out there near Riceton. Despite my hesitation over what might have been happening to the field, my childhood fascination with aviation quickly returned while watching this pilot bank tight, low-flying turns.

After pedalling for days through the flat, dry, and hot Central Valley, I was shocked to find myself in the heart of huge expanses of rice fields. It felt like I was suddenly transported to Southeast Asia.

Cranes added to the allure of the rice fields.

While enjoying an afternoon Slurpee with my host in Chico, we witnessed this odd vision: a woman in her wedding dress posing in the middle of the Big Chico Creek. This one might require the double click for full size appreciation. Just a few weeks ago, this creek had huge schools of salmon that returned after a hiatus of 5 years. Good news!

As I stopped on the top of a hill that leads into Petaluma, a guy hopped out of a sedan carrying what looked like a wetsuit or flight suit. As the car sped off, the guy quickly dressed and bombed the hill on a skateboard. Judging by my speed, he was definitely going over 40mph when he got going. Random in the context of the quiet countryside.

In a backroad of Marin County, I came across a redwood grove that forced me to pause. The smell of those trees always reminds me of good times in my childhood. I am forced to childlike wonder in their presence in which I try to wrap my feeble mind around their ancient knowledge. Their size is only a hint at that passing time.

Pictures do not do these giants justice, but I'll pass another along anyway.

You might not be able to spot him, but this SIkh farmer gave me one of the friendliest waves of the past few days. I guess Yuba City has a very large and celebrated Sikh population. Nice little surprise.

I set my bike down for a break on what turned out to be an 80mi ride from upper Napa Valley to Davis. Moments after I leaned the bike near the tracks, an Amtrak train happened to pass by. I doubt a handful of these pass each day, but it happened to come just as I arrived. Yes-- I was prepared for that possibility despite my fatigue.

When in Chico... So, I arrived to Chico drenched from a day of hard rain and defeated from a spill. My host quickly changed my mood by carting me over to the Sierra Nevade brewery. For the record, part of my practice in the journey of the Carbon Sabbath is that I do not spend donor's money on alcohol-- for a variety of reasons. But this tour was not about sampling. It turns out that Sierra Nevada is something of a sustainability wonder. They do it all. Through solar panels and fuel cells that benefit from brewing heat, they account for a minimum of 85% of their electricity needs. When everything's firing and it's sunny, they actually sell energy back to the grid. They capture and reuse their CO2. Through composting, etc., they prevent 99.6% of their waste from going to the landfill. Oh-- and the beer's supposedly tasty, too.

Ponies!

Sunflowers!

Hard day of work in Napa Valley.

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.

Here's the scene of the accident just after the fact. Humble pie, indeed. My care and attentiveness have certainly increased as a result. Not fun to fall.

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.

Still life with dog, feast, beverages, and mandolele. The instrument is a baritone ukulele that I strung up with guitar strings tuned like a viola/mandola/cello so that I could study the Bach cello suites and other mandolin stuff while traveling.

The inside of the amazing Oakville/Napa digs.

My canine compadre Gator in vineside repose. This friendly buddy had been injured as a puppy and now is limited to the use of 3 legs. He's still fast. He darts after jackrabbits whenever he gets the chance, and recently got into trouble for being a little too quick for one of the vineyard cats. Very peaceful dog normally.

In case I ever need an image to escape to in my memory, I took this shot while strolling with Gator.

Biking through vineyards-- can't get enough.

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)

Furniture and sushi-- together at last in Yuba City.

Came across this child's handprint in a canal while stopped on the backroads to Davis. Something meanful about putting my hand over that hand where the cool water feeds the fields. That person might be grown and passed away, but at that spot, their childhood remains with a tinge of mine.

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.