402 Days

Chippewa Falls – Home, via Willow River State Park

You might recall that we rented our house out to our daughter, Ellie, and her friends while we were gone. Because of that we had to pack our clothes and personal items up before we left. I was pretty proud of myself; I packed most of my stuff up into one big bin. 

The rest? Let’s just say that we donated a few bags to the Salvation Army. 

After we rolled in on Sunday, pretty much everything on the bikes immediately went into the laundry. But the problem was that we also wanted to shower right away – necessitating that we find some clean clothes to wear. The upshot is that I opened my little time capsule of packed items ten minutes after we arrived. 

The funny thing is that even after all the Salvation Army trips I still found myself a little appalled at all the stuff that I had kept . . . Two suits and a tuxedo that I somehow inherited from Diana’s Dad. Another couple sport coats. Several pairs of dress pants. 

What on Earth am I doing with all this stuff? 

For the past thirteen plus months I’ve had like seventeen total items to keep track of – Old Dan, one tent, one sleeping bag, one sleeping pad, two pairs of socks, five pairs of underwear, one pair of shorts, three shirts, one mess kit  . . . well – you get the idea . . . 

I gotta say that I’m not finding myself real excited about all these other things we own. I’m sure I’ll “adjust” quickly – it’s the American way, I guess. But I’m definitely going to miss the simplicity of our lives on the bikes . . .

Where was I? Oh yes, I’ve just opened my stored items and I’m about to take my shower. But before I do Ellie informs me that the shower is draining very slowly. So now I’m kneeling on the floor of the bathroom, I’m naked because all my clothes are in the wash, and I’m pulling copious amounts of hair out of the shower drain. 

Welcome home! It took about five minutes after arriving to resume my proper place in the household: Chief Unclogger, or, more aptly named: Dad. 

Other items on the Dad list . . . 

• Trim above front door has fallen off.
• Front door does not close properly because screws holding closer to the door have stripped.
• Toilet in other bathroom is hopelessly clogged or something – and apparently needs to be replaced.
• Two trees in the backyard have died. 
• Light switches in our bedroom have broken and, because of that, lights don’t work. 

I’m sure I’m forgetting some. And I’m certain I haven’t even discovered others yet. 

I guess you can leave for a year – but Dad Duty never ends . . . Mind you, I’m not complaining. It’s good to feel needed.

Sorry – we haven’t even mentioned our last two days of riding yet . . .

The big news: Family and friends made the last 24 hours of our trip really special. 

We had a wonderful night of camping with my parents, my sister, her partner, Dan, and our good friends, Craig and Kim Rudd. Excellent campfire dinner – complete with our patented grilled potatoes, corn-on-the-cob, steak, and green beans. Fun to cook for a crowd again. 

Of course, the best part of the meal was my Mom’s chocolate chip cookies. Can’t believe I made it a year without them . . .

We even had my Dad’s pancakes with bacon and eggs for breakfast. 

Delicious.

And then the real fun started . . .

Our friends Rick and Diana showed up at the park for the ride – and Rick rode in with us.

When we reached the St. Croix River – the gateway to Minnesota – we had three more bikers join the party – Jane D, Susan F and Dave P, and four other people – Diana’s patients, and dedicated blog followers, Susan and Jose, and the McKinneys of Stillwater – came out to cheer. 

By the time we reached Malcolm Yards we had quite the crew . . .

One of the big lessons from this trip is that people around the world are wonderful. But, of course, our friends and family in Minnesota are, maybe, just a little bit better even . . .

Okay, a few statistics for you . . .

As best I can figure we traveled about 32,517 miles over the past thirteen months. Of that, 19,200 were by bicycle, 11,800 by plane (over the Darien Gap from Panama City to Cartagena; from Ushuaia to Marrakech; from Helsinki to London; and, finally, from London to Newark, New Jersey), 2,150 by bus (from Mancora to Ariquipa in Peru; and over part of the Atacama – from Iquique to La Serena, in Chile), 1,330 by ferry, and 187 by train. This equates to about 1,600 hours biking, 23.5 hours flying, 86 hours busing, 89 hours boating, and 3.7 hours on the train. 

We traveled through eleven states and forty countries. 

We at least dipped our toes in twenty-nine significant bodies of water (not counting the various smaller rivers, lakes and streams – some of them alligator-infested . . .): the Mississippi River, the Missouri River, the Gulf of Mexico (now, according to our President and Google Maps, the Gulf of America), the Pacific, both the South and the North Atlantic, the Caribbean Sea, Reloncavi Bay, the Beagle Channel, the Strait of Magellan, the Mediterranean, the Alboran Sea, the Balearic Sea, the Tyrrhenian Sea, the Adriatic Sea, the Aegean Sea, the Sea of Marmara, the Black Sea, the Danube, the Vistula, the Gulf of Riga, the Baltic Sea, the Gulf of Finland, Carlingford Lough, the Irish Sea, the Thames, Lake Ontario, Lake Huron, and Lake Michigan. 

We biked over nine mountain ranges: the Ozarks, the Sierra Madre Oriental (in Mexico and again in Guatemala), the Andes (a few times), the Sierra Nevada in Spain, the Pyrenees, the Alpilles in France, the Appenines in Italy, and, in the Balkans, the Dinaric Alps, and the Balkans themselves. 

Old Dan and Little Ann held up pretty well – but there are going to be a few mechanical issues over that many miles . . . I think we ended up going through about ten shifter cables, twelve chains per bike, four sets of tires (although the Schwalbe Marathon Plus tires we bought in the middle have now lasted about 12,000 miles and are still going strong), one rim, and three sets of brake pads.

I’m not quite sure how many times I posted, but I think a pretty good guess would be about five times per week – which, over 57 weeks, equates to about 285 posts. Estimating that the posts averaged about 1,500 words, that makes for about 427,000 write words total. Google tells me that is the approximate equivalent of a 1,400 page book. 

Our War & Peace I guess . . .

Doesn’t seem right to finish with dry statistics – so one last character to share . . .

Jordan.

We met him on our way from Chippewa Falls to Willow River State Park. At the fried chicken and grill kitchen at the back of a gas station in a little town along the way . . .

Unlikely place to meet a 33 year-old Black man who grew up within a few blocks of our house in North Minneapolis, and who graduated, like our girls, from Hopkins High School. 

What a gem of a person though. Easy smile. Eager to make me a burger. And happy to share his story . . .

It was only a few years ago that Jordan was doing well in the Twin Cities, where he managed a storage facility. But he fell in with the wrong crowd. The end result was two pit bulls attacking him – and relieving him of his right ear. 

His life spiraled a bit from there and he ended up moving to Alabama, where one of his brothers lives. That didn’t last too long, because Alabama was not very welcoming. “Let’s just leave it at that,” he told me. But Jordan had another brother living in Wisconsin. He moved in with him about a year ago and found the job at the gas station. 

He’s saving up to buy a car, but what he really wants to do is become one of those gamer people who other people watch play. I don’t totally understand it, but guessing Jordan would be great. 

One reason I mention Jordan at this point in our travels is that I think Jordan personifies an important lesson: it’s not where you live, it’s living life with a smile and doing whatever you are doing well and with kindness – wherever you are! In other words, you don’t need to go to Morocco or Turkey or Chile to find happiness. I mean, you might need to consider whether they have Salted Nut Rolls – but otherwise pretty much anyplace has its virtues . . .

One last thing on Jordan . . . I asked him about the dating scene in rural Wisconsin. It was funny; Jordan was actually appreciative of the question itself.

”No one ever asks me that,” he told me. And then you could see his mind working as he thought through his answer. 

“Do you use dating apps?”

”No, I don’t really believe in that. You have to meet people the natural way . . .”

He went on for a bit about his last girlfriend and how they broke up. By the time he was done with his reverie he ended up overcooking my burger a bit – but the connection was totally worth it . . .

Which maybe neatly encapsulates one more lesson of our travels: we started out excited about international cuisine; we ended excited about people – their stories, their generosity, and their kindness – the world over . . .

I’m guessing you’ll hear from me again – but at this point I’m not sure what that will look like . . .

For now, thanks for coming along. It’s been fun!