I've made the crossing

First off, physically, I am in Canada. I crossed over by ferry from Port Angeles to Victoria on the 14th of June, 2011. The smile never left my face, and I was proud of myself. I really did just bike from Lee Vining (close to Mammoth Lakes, essentially Yosemite), to Vancouver Island. Later today, the 16th of June, I will be getting on a ferry to arrive in Vancouver. I accomplished what I set out to do, and looking back on the days of snow, and hail, and lonliness, and mile after mile of amazing biking, well, I don't have words to describe what I've seen and been through. Erika, my most wonderful teacher from Semester at Sea, has it right when you've got to just read between the lines of this blog to really understand my thoughts.
But I'll try. A few things. I have crossed over physically, but also mentally. I can sense a mental bridge I climbed, and got over. In a few ways. One, I realize I was doing a lot of biking, and not a lot of touring, over the first weeks through California and Oregon. Once I reached Astoria, I realized wow, I do have some extra time, and now I can enjoy this trip. I set out to expect the unexpected, but I made the miles more important than the memories. So I strayed off the route, and went along the Washington coast, in and out of Olympic national park, and took it easy. I even stopped at 3 one day! I crossed into Canada, and I had no plan, no direction, and no idea where to stay. But I was fine, and I made it up the coast, and last night camped on a beautiful island in Nanaimo.
However, the other bridge I crossed over, more importantly I'd say, is that the alone time is now no longer a burden, but a gift that I absolutely love. It is peaceful, and I feel very free. I have no set goal, no plan, only relaxed riding and exploring. Maybe it is the beautiful scenery of the coast along Vancouver Island, with amazing homes overlooking the water with farms throughout the ride. It is probably just the nice weather, I finally am getting some sun without the clouds.
My time is almost up, but I have one more thought. I camped on Cresent Lake in Washington the night of the 13th. A guy said to me that I was brave. I gave that a days worth of though on the 14th, and I know now that I might have been walking a fine line between bravery and foolishness this whole trip. I have written pages about this in my little thought journal, but basically, if I had not been foolish, I wouldn't have biked that far in such a short time, I would have taken it easy, and I wouldn't have made it to Vancouver island. No way I would have. And I am in love with this place, again. It is beautiful with its small towns and organic farms and amazing homes and harbors and cafes and islands and forested hills and starfish in the water and the list goes on and on. So maybe, it is being brave about my foolish decisions that have gotten me to where I am. It has all been through the heart, the trip that is, and if I would have thought a little more about it, it wouldn't have happened or turned out the way it has. I have two minutes left, and I'd love to say more, but until next time, thank you all, again, so much, it has been an experience of a lifetime. Absolutely.

So Far...

So far I have traveled 914.14 miles on my bicycle. I have done this over 15 days. 5 of those days were in the Sierras in California, 1 on a ride from Peanut to Hyampom and back, and 9 days along the California and Oregon coasts. I have sang a small collection of Harry Chapin's songs out loud more times than I can imagine, and American Pie about that many times as well. Every time I sing different versions, but every time they get me a couple miles further up the road. I have stayed in 4 motels, 3 of which were in the Sierras, camped "on the side of the road" 2 or 3 nights, and found campgrounds for the rest of the nights. I haven't slept in a motel since the day I rode 89 miles from Peanut to Fortuna, my first glimpse of the ocean since the rooftop bar my brother Kevin took me to in Laguna beach. I cried when I saw it, in all its glory. I was so glad to be out of the Sierras, with the snow and hail and freezing rain and mountians that seemed to be endless. I have broken exactly both of my kitty litter panniers, and fixed them with exactly one whole roll of cheapo camo duct tape. The tape sucks, and I imagine they will be breaking on me again soon.

Every day has been an experience, and a story could be told of every day. Some days would be more interesting than others, but all help and are necessary to describe the essence of this adventure. I am alone, and that is by far the most important factor in understanding this trip. Aside from my butchering of songs, making up lyrics of childhood tunes, and talking to myself, I am silent on the road and my thoughts get the best of me everytime. Sometimes they are good thoughts and everything is working out. If I am feeling good, I am feeling very good. The views are spectacular, the road is smooth, and the trip is working. Other times, I get inside my head and it starts eating away at my mind. Why am I doing this. My back hurts. I am hungry, I don't want to ride anymore, will I make it to Vancouver, where will I sleep tonight, how much money do I have left, my video about this trip will be terrible, I could never convey this experience, I want to do it again, I know I won't, I miss my friends, I miss my family.... It is all highs and lows. But it is all, every second of it, the experience, and I can't change any of it.

I want to write down all the clever little things I think of as I bike along every day, but I never remember them, and unfortunately they won't ever come back to me. Probably. But more will come, and I will be amused by them, and forget them once again. I realize I will probably only post once or twice more over the duration of this trip, and they will surely recap more of the experience, so I will write a few particulars here in the 12 minutes I have left on the library computer.

I got to ride with a friend Steven Gaspar from Bandon to Lincoln City, Oregon. It was a completely difference experience riding with another person, and I loved every second of it. I was no longer lonely, and I was never down. We cooked smores and ate amazing pasta and chili, and laughed and made fires and even met another friend from school named Ashley who came to hang out for a night.

Last night I camped in a campground with not a single other person there, and I couldn't find the camp hosts until this morning. I was scared, but surprisingly alright with it. I woke up more refreshed than I thought I would be.

I broke one of the kitty litter panniers two nights ago, fixed it with duct tape, and yesterday it broke again. I figured I could switch them to different sides and the new sides would last me until the end of the trip. I caught myself saying this, and about 20 feet down the road they both broke. I had a blast yesterday. But I managed to get to the campground and fix them and hopefully now they'll last with a little love and not so many fast bumps.

I wish I could write more, but I have 4 minutes left and I must look up the lyrics to those songs I have been butchering the whole trip. So enjoy, and I will probably be on again soon enough. Until then, please keep keepin on with those words of encouragment and please think about donating to 350.org in my name, there is a movement in September being coordinated with biking as a huge focal point, and they need all the funds they can get to do it. Thank you again, and see you all on the other side. Washington State, here I come!