September 24, 2022
It has been three weeks since I cycled up the Morse Road, thereby completing the physical act of crossing the USA along a northern thin line. As I mentioned in my last entry (9/14), I had hoped to re-enter slowly, giving myself the time to process, internally, the magnitude of this accomplishment. Unfortunately, my re-entry has been anything but slow. In the three weeks since my return, I have had to bury a ewe and a lamb. The first group of returning sheep escaped, eating all of the garden’s chard, thus exposing the weakness in the existing fences and requiring me to spend some days reinforcing them. In addition, my old 1965 David Brown tractor, which I’m depending on to make hay in the next weeks, has developed a problem that is requiring my attention and my time. My eldest sister has, in the last week, become seriously ill with cancer, and even though we have not been close for a good many years, her illness and possible death weigh on my soul. These are only a few of life’s demands that I am confronted with upon returning from my two-wheel journey.
Still, there have been quiet times in which I have had the mental space to contemplate the accomplishment of riding a bicycle across the country. One of my recurring thoughts runs as follows: It cannot be denied that my legs and my legs only carried me across the country. It was “my” body that pedaled every one of the 3,000+ miles across 12 states from coast to coast. BUT (and this is a big BUT), I cannot claim to have done this journey alone. As I have recounted throughout these entries, there were many individuals who helped me along the way. “Angels” I have called them. These are angels who made themselves visible through this or that “person.” In this entry, I wish to recognize some other people (angels), some whom I can name and others who remain anonymous, who have partnered with me on this journey.
The first group of individuals who were essential to my being able to do this ride, were those angels who held down the fort here in Maine. These are people who took on the responsibilities that I left them with in order to be away for two and a half months. Deb, my partner, was left with the care of the home we share (which at one point required her to address a potentially dangerous situation with regards to our solar batteries, calling in other angels – Vern and Cory – for their expertise). Rachel and Jason, who took on the vegetable growing operation without perhaps realizing what they had actually taken on. Dave (Rachel’s husband), Brien, and Bobby, who showed up to keep the fields mowed in my absence, often confronted with faulty equipment. Magnolia, Rachel and Dave’s 9-year-old daughter, who all too often had to entertain herself while her parents were busy doing farm work.
In addition, there were those “angels” who took on the responsibilities of tending sheep. At the Bok farm – Gideon Bok and Bridget, Chris and their two young children (city folks introduced to the hardscrabble life of caring for a flock of young lambs and ewes who paid no attention to the fences we had set up), who had to bottle feed and provide veterinary care for ill lambs and who had to deal with the death of three lambs and a ewe – a hard introduction to farm life (death). The older flock of ewes were cared for by Peter, Graziella, and, primarily, their daughter Suneva, rotationally grazing these older “ladies” in a droughty year when green grass was at a premium.
There were those who followed me on Strava from afar, giving me “kudos” along the way. Too many people to mention, but if you’re reading this, you know who you are. None of the individuals I have mentioned here pedaled even one turn of my bicycle’s crank, but I would not have been able to pedal even one turn of that crank without them. Every one of these individuals rode with me.
Similarly, there were faceless nameless people who were also accompanying me across the miles. These included the farmers and fishers who provided the food/fuel that powered my body, the truckers who delivered that food to the stores where I purchased it, the store keepers and check-out clerks, the campground attendants, the road maintenance attendants, the road maintenance crews, and on and on.
There were also the non-incarnated angels constantly at my shoulder protecting me from harm and guiding me home safely. The larger point I’m trying to make here is that an accomplishment like riding a bicycle 3,000 miles across a continent cannot be done alone. Looking at your own life’s accomplishments, you will come to the same conclusion. We are dependent on others to accomplish even the smallest of life’s tasks. Nothing that we do is done alone. We have others to thank for every aspect of our life. We owe a debt to other beings, some of whom we know, some whom we will never know, some who are incarnate, some who are not. We owe a debt to the Earth herself – the “mother” who daily sacrifices herself so that we may live.