After leaving Atlanta, and locking my apartment door for what would be the last time, it was fair to say that my life as it was minutes before, would change. In between Atlanta and Austin, the conversations and personal interaction have provided me with “something” that I can’t really describe but that will carry me for the rest of my life.
The last 6 days have been so profound, for the total opposite reason, that it’s even more difficult to describe. Since leaving Buda, I have spent my days in almost complete seclusion – free of cell phone service, libraries, tv’s, etc, in an area of Texas that I wanted so bad – because of Pres. Lydon Johnson, because of the desolate landscape, because it’s Lance Armstrong’s training ground, and because it was something I had to go over/through/whatever…
Before leaving Atlanta, I would spend hours looking over the maps of Hill Country, Texas – studying the elevation, the lack of “services”, etc. After a good bit of time with the maps, I would look over my bike, trying to find something to identify as the weakest link – were my handlebars at a right angle, what of my seat, and of course, given the up and down elevation, what of my gear-ratio. Even back then I had reason to believe it would never happen.
After suffering my back-wheel issues in Florida, I had almost convinced myself that the trip would end somewhere in or around Wimberley, Texas. Single speed is something that makes you cool, I guess, in Atlanta, but something that really made no sense out here. To have successful ridden from Buda to here – Del Rio – without getting off to push, or hitch a ride, or turn around, or even stop until I found a place to put a tent for the evening, represents perhaps the biggest, most profound personal goal of my 34 years. The scenery during this portion is so absolutely beautiful that I came to understand very quicklythat something like this comes at a price.
Maybe someday you’ll come out here, maybe not; maybe on that day you’ll chose to rent a motorcycle, hopefully being wise enough to stop and sit every so many miles. Or, maybe, hopefully, one day, you consider doing it on a bicycle. Please let me know if you do, I would love to come along. As a selling point – there’s not much like coming upon a family of mule-deer and being looked up and down as if you’re the one who should move off the road.
The physical demands I chose to place upon myself since leaving Wimberley have put me into such an emotional, meditative state that I no longer care what happens from this point forward. While I have no interest in stopping it’s no longer a concern where it ends. I’m more than motivated to take this “trip” as far as it goes – if for no other reason because there’s a lot more miles to see. Should my money run out, I guess I’ll find something else to do; should my bike break, I guess the same holds true. To be here now after five weeks is exactly what I was searching for when I pedaled away from Atlanta.
I have to say this – for those that spend their days bike riding online (you know who you are, and so do we…), the joy and pain of riding until it hurts will be something always missed – and for you I feel truly sorry.
I kind of feel like the web updates seem kind of poinless now given my current state. I’ll try my best here and there come up with something worth reading and will still make an effort to thanks those that help along the way… In saying that, thank you Big Bo, Mrs. Thompson, and Willy – the Mayor of Sisterdale – for the chance to sit and listen and learn – I really needed the lesson.
cheers,
j
The last 6 days have been so profound, for the total opposite reason, that it’s even more difficult to describe. Since leaving Buda, I have spent my days in almost complete seclusion – free of cell phone service, libraries, tv’s, etc, in an area of Texas that I wanted so bad – because of Pres. Lydon Johnson, because of the desolate landscape, because it’s Lance Armstrong’s training ground, and because it was something I had to go over/through/whatever…
Before leaving Atlanta, I would spend hours looking over the maps of Hill Country, Texas – studying the elevation, the lack of “services”, etc. After a good bit of time with the maps, I would look over my bike, trying to find something to identify as the weakest link – were my handlebars at a right angle, what of my seat, and of course, given the up and down elevation, what of my gear-ratio. Even back then I had reason to believe it would never happen.
After suffering my back-wheel issues in Florida, I had almost convinced myself that the trip would end somewhere in or around Wimberley, Texas. Single speed is something that makes you cool, I guess, in Atlanta, but something that really made no sense out here. To have successful ridden from Buda to here – Del Rio – without getting off to push, or hitch a ride, or turn around, or even stop until I found a place to put a tent for the evening, represents perhaps the biggest, most profound personal goal of my 34 years. The scenery during this portion is so absolutely beautiful that I came to understand very quicklythat something like this comes at a price.
Maybe someday you’ll come out here, maybe not; maybe on that day you’ll chose to rent a motorcycle, hopefully being wise enough to stop and sit every so many miles. Or, maybe, hopefully, one day, you consider doing it on a bicycle. Please let me know if you do, I would love to come along. As a selling point – there’s not much like coming upon a family of mule-deer and being looked up and down as if you’re the one who should move off the road.
The physical demands I chose to place upon myself since leaving Wimberley have put me into such an emotional, meditative state that I no longer care what happens from this point forward. While I have no interest in stopping it’s no longer a concern where it ends. I’m more than motivated to take this “trip” as far as it goes – if for no other reason because there’s a lot more miles to see. Should my money run out, I guess I’ll find something else to do; should my bike break, I guess the same holds true. To be here now after five weeks is exactly what I was searching for when I pedaled away from Atlanta.
I have to say this – for those that spend their days bike riding online (you know who you are, and so do we…), the joy and pain of riding until it hurts will be something always missed – and for you I feel truly sorry.
I kind of feel like the web updates seem kind of poinless now given my current state. I’ll try my best here and there come up with something worth reading and will still make an effort to thanks those that help along the way… In saying that, thank you Big Bo, Mrs. Thompson, and Willy – the Mayor of Sisterdale – for the chance to sit and listen and learn – I really needed the lesson.
cheers,
j
