Tag: cycling in the desert

The Edge

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“We’re always attracted to the edges of what we are, out by the edges where it’s a little raw and nervy.”
~ E.L. Doctorow

[/fusion_text][separator style_type=”shadow” top_margin=”10″ bottom_margin=”200″ sep_color=”#71b5dd” icon=”” width=”” class=”” id=””][/one_fourth][three_fourth last=”yes” spacing=”yes” background_color=”” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” background_position=”left top” border_size=”0px” border_color=”” border_style=”” padding=”” class=”” id=””][imageframe lightbox=”no” style_type=”dropshadow” bordercolor=”” bordersize=”0px” borderradius=”0″ stylecolor=”” align=”center” link=”https://neilhanson.com/pilgrim-wheels” linktarget=”_self” animation_type=”0″ animation_direction=”down” animation_speed=”0.1″ class=”” id=””] [/imageframe][separator style_type=”shadow” top_margin=”20″ bottom_margin=”20″ sep_color=”#71b5dd” icon=”” width=”” class=”” id=””][fusion_text]Pre-dawn darkness sees me quietly stealing out into the wilderness, away from people, toward solitude. Rolling down the road through a sleeping town toward the vast empty expanse of the Mojave Desert, I listen to the sweet sound of my freshly oiled chain reflected from the buildings in town as I push my bicycle out onto the surface of a vast desert wilderness.

Once I leave town, the next services are 90 miles east, the longest crossing I’ve ever made. My cache of water at the 70 mile mark is my insurance policy should the wind turn bad on me. In addition, I have two full water bottles, two liters of Gatorade, and another half-liter of water in a bladder stowed away in my bag.

This crossing brings me to within shouting distance of the threshold of mortality. If the wind blows the wrong direction, or the heat gets particularly high, I’ll have a pretty tough day. If both happen, I could be in serious trouble — the kind of serious trouble that can be life-threatening.

Not to over-dramatize the risk. I am, after all, on a public highway. In most cases, if I end up in serious trouble, there’s at least some chance that I can flag down help. Nonetheless, I’m alone on a bicycle crossing a desert wilderness in the summer. Things can turn ugly in a hurry.

So why on earth am I doing this? These next few days really are the “heart of the truth” for me, crossing first this Mojave, then the Sonoran. Crossing the heart of truth, out on the edge of comfort and safety.

Edge: A rim or a brink, or, a place where something is likely to begin. A penetrating and incisive quality, or, the degree of sharpness of an instrument designed to cut. Keenness, as of desire or enjoyment; zest: The brisk walk gave an edge to my appetite. (Compilation from several sources.)

Life happens on the edges. We can’t find the next place on our journey until we discover the edge between the place we are and the place we need to go. Something ends and something else can begin only along an edge. Along these edges we find and feel the penetrating and incisive qualities that give definition to our life. Our interface with life is sharpened at the edge. We discover our greatest zest and our most keen desires at the edge.

I feel alive in a way we rarely get to feel alive in our safe and coddled culture today. Dawn spreads a beautiful pastel palette of color across the eastern horizon in front of me, adding fuel to my wonder and excitement.[/fusion_text][/three_fourth][fullwidth backgroundcolor=”” backgroundimage=”” backgroundrepeat=”no-repeat” backgroundposition=”left top” backgroundattachment=”scroll” video_webm=”” video_mp4=”” video_ogv=”” video_preview_image=”” overlay_color=”” overlay_opacity=”0.5″ video_mute=”yes” video_loop=”yes” fade=”no” bordersize=”0px” bordercolor=”” borderstyle=”” paddingtop=”20px” paddingbottom=”20px” paddingleft=”0px” paddingright=”0px” menu_anchor=”” equal_height_columns=”no” hundred_percent=”no” class=”” id=””][one_fourth last=”no” spacing=”yes” background_color=”” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” background_position=”left top” border_size=”0px” border_color=”” border_style=”” padding=”” class=”” id=””][imageframe lightbox=”no” style_type=”none” bordercolor=”” bordersize=”0px” borderradius=”0″ stylecolor=”” align=”none” link=”https://neilhanson.com/pilgrim-wheels” linktarget=”_self” animation_type=”0″ animation_direction=”down” animation_speed=”0.1″ class=”” id=””] [/imageframe][/one_fourth][three_fourth last=”yes” spacing=”yes” background_color=”” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” background_position=”left top” border_size=”0px” border_color=”” border_style=”” padding=”” class=”” id=””][fusion_text]

Pilgrim Wheels Excerpts
This post is part of a series of posts, representing excerpts from Pilgrim Wheels, a story of a cycling journey across America. Pilgrim Wheels will be released in early March, let me know if you’re interested in doing an advance review.

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The Sweet Shore of Sleep

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“Don’t underestimate the value of Doing Nothing, of just going along, listening to all the things you can’t hear, and not bothering.”
~ Pooh’s Little Instruction Book, inspired by A.A. Milne

[/fusion_text][separator style_type=”shadow” top_margin=”10″ bottom_margin=”200″ sep_color=”#71b5dd” icon=”” width=”” class=”” id=””][/one_fourth][three_fourth last=”yes” spacing=”yes” background_color=”” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” background_position=”left top” border_size=”0px” border_color=”” border_style=”” padding=”” class=”” id=””][imageframe lightbox=”no” style_type=”dropshadow” bordercolor=”” bordersize=”0px” borderradius=”0″ stylecolor=”” align=”center” link=”https://neilhanson.com/pilgrim-wheels” linktarget=”_self” animation_type=”0″ animation_direction=”down” animation_speed=”0.1″ class=”” id=””] [/imageframe][separator style_type=”shadow” top_margin=”20″ bottom_margin=”20″ sep_color=”#71b5dd” icon=”” width=”” class=”” id=””][fusion_text]Day 7 of my trip. A good day to rest. This seems to be a popular opinion at any rate.

Late in the morning, sitting in some shade close to the pool, I’m enjoying my little slice of life. I’ve got my book with me, but I’m not reading it. I’m languishing in the shade, soaking in the hot air. Kids laughing and splashing in the water around me is a sweet melody, bringing back memories of when my children were young.

I notice a small bird moving around the desert plants, and reflect on how the wildlife has changed along with the plant life as I’ve moved from the coast out to the desert. In just a few short days I’ve gone from lush rainforest, through wine country and grassy savannah, now onto a high desert, about to drop into deep and dangerous desert.

One thing I didn’t count on when I planned this trip was how full of blooms the desert is in June. The spectacular Datura grows everywhere along the highway here, with beautiful big white flowers that look iridescent in the bright morning sunlight. As the day heats up, the flowers must close or fade, because I don’t see them in the afternoon heat. (Of course, they might be there and I’m the one wilted in the afternoon heat, no longer paying close attention…) Their large leaves and flowers spread out over the side of the road, spilling their sweet fragrance through the morning air as I’ve pedaled past them on the road.

Leaning back in my chair, enjoying the shade by the pool, that sweet fragrance infuses my memory. I can surely recall a few frustrating incidents I’ve had as I’ve approached this rest day, some bad wind and deadly drivers for example. But along with those moments of frustration has come a long list of moments of pure sweetness.

There’s some measure of sweetness in nearly every moment, along with some measure of bitterness. Life is so much better when we learn how to sniff out the sweetness in each moment, distilling any bitterness away.

My eyes close as I wander through these thoughts. The kids have gone in, leaving behind a pristine quiet to keep me company as I sit alone in the warm shade. Drifting along the quiet surface of deep relaxation, sneaking gently along the shore between sleep and wakefulness, I feel a smile in my soul. My mind quietly laps up against that sweet shore of sleep, like a log might roll gently back and forth against a shady bank at the edge of a quiet pond.[/fusion_text][/three_fourth][fullwidth backgroundcolor=”” backgroundimage=”” backgroundrepeat=”no-repeat” backgroundposition=”left top” backgroundattachment=”scroll” video_webm=”” video_mp4=”” video_ogv=”” video_preview_image=”” overlay_color=”” overlay_opacity=”0.5″ video_mute=”yes” video_loop=”yes” fade=”no” bordersize=”0px” bordercolor=”” borderstyle=”” paddingtop=”20px” paddingbottom=”20px” paddingleft=”0px” paddingright=”0px” menu_anchor=”” equal_height_columns=”no” hundred_percent=”no” class=”” id=””][one_fourth last=”no” spacing=”yes” background_color=”” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” background_position=”left top” border_size=”0px” border_color=”” border_style=”” padding=”” class=”” id=””][imageframe lightbox=”no” style_type=”none” bordercolor=”” bordersize=”0px” borderradius=”0″ stylecolor=”” align=”none” link=”https://neilhanson.com/pilgrim-wheels” linktarget=”_self” animation_type=”0″ animation_direction=”down” animation_speed=”0.1″ class=”” id=””] [/imageframe][/one_fourth][three_fourth last=”yes” spacing=”yes” background_color=”” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” background_position=”left top” border_size=”0px” border_color=”” border_style=”” padding=”” class=”” id=””][fusion_text]

Pilgrim Wheels Excerpts
This post is part of a series of posts, representing excerpts from Pilgrim Wheels, a story of a cycling journey across America. Pilgrim Wheels will be released in early March, let me know if you’re interested in doing an advance review.

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Pedaling Past The Grim Reaper

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“For what is it to die, But to stand in the sun and melt into the wind?”
~ Kahlil Gibran

[/fusion_text][separator style_type=”shadow” top_margin=”10″ bottom_margin=”200″ sep_color=”#71b5dd” icon=”” width=”” class=”” id=””][/one_fourth][three_fourth last=”yes” spacing=”yes” background_color=”” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” background_position=”left top” border_size=”0px” border_color=”” border_style=”” padding=”” class=”” id=””][imageframe lightbox=”no” style_type=”dropshadow” bordercolor=”” bordersize=”0px” borderradius=”0″ stylecolor=”” align=”center” link=”https://neilhanson.com/pilgrim-wheels” linktarget=”_self” animation_type=”0″ animation_direction=”down” animation_speed=”0.1″ class=”” id=””] [/imageframe][separator style_type=”shadow” top_margin=”20″ bottom_margin=”20″ sep_color=”#71b5dd” icon=”” width=”” class=”” id=””][fusion_text]Pressing up a gentle slope into the headwind, I hear the roar of a car engine ahead. Coming toward me a Mustang pulls out to pass another car. Expletives explode from my mouth as I make a split-second decision to stay on the road rather than diving off the shoulder and down the two foot drop into the rocks below. Pulling out right behind the Mustang is a pickup truck.

Rocketing head-on at highway passing speed, they pass me at a couple feet, though it feels like inches. I’ve got no shoulder. Nowhere to retreat. I’m completely exposed and vulnerable, left to trust completely, trusting both the drivers and the wheel of karma.

The terror of the moment grips me as I continue pedaling, and I begin shaking. Luck is with me this morning, but just barely. So easily, that close encounter could have gone the other way, pedaling past the grim reaper so closely.

There are moments in life that come down to a tiny fraction of fate or fortune, and can go either way. There’s a new lens that opens up to us suddenly when this happens, and we see the world a little differently. We realize that we just stumbled past the doorstep that takes us out of this life. Stealing a glance into the doorway as we pass, death’s merciless scythe reaches out to leave a little scar on our soul, reminding us just how closely the door follows us through life.

What we see when we glance in as we pass does much to define our spiritual outlook. We look back on these moments, basking in the mercy and grace we feel at being still on this side of the doorway. From these moments we decide whether we believe there’s any rhyme or reason to which way we stumbled. We wonder if we’re somehow favored by the Universe, or somehow invincible, or deserving of some special treatment.

The jitters and shakes eventually subside with my regular pedal strokes. I realize how dang lucky I am to be alive. With passing weeks and months I’ll look back on the panic and dread of the moment, and I’ll remember that dark door through which I stole a glance in passing. I’ll remember the sense of overwhelming grace and mercy I felt when my stumble kept me on this side of that door. I’ll realize, over and over, that at any moment “there but for Grace” I could easily fall.

There’s no deserving, or plan, or roadmap, or anything like that. There’s no bartering or negotiating. Lean just slightly the wrong way, at the wrong time, and the door will swallow us up if we happen to pass too close.

Reach out and hold hands with Grace, give Mercy a hug. Today and every day of this lifetime. That’s the image that will come back to me over time as I remember that stolen glance into darkness. Not because of any debt. Not to buy insurance for the next stumble.

Just because. Those moments introduce us to Grace and Mercy. The gift is the chance to reach out and hold their hands. Nothing more, nothing less.[/fusion_text][/three_fourth][fullwidth backgroundcolor=”” backgroundimage=”” backgroundrepeat=”no-repeat” backgroundposition=”left top” backgroundattachment=”scroll” video_webm=”” video_mp4=”” video_ogv=”” video_preview_image=”” overlay_color=”” overlay_opacity=”0.5″ video_mute=”yes” video_loop=”yes” fade=”no” bordersize=”0px” bordercolor=”” borderstyle=”” paddingtop=”20px” paddingbottom=”20px” paddingleft=”0px” paddingright=”0px” menu_anchor=”” equal_height_columns=”no” hundred_percent=”no” class=”” id=””][one_fourth last=”no” spacing=”yes” background_color=”” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” background_position=”left top” border_size=”0px” border_color=”” border_style=”” padding=”” class=”” id=””][imageframe lightbox=”no” style_type=”none” bordercolor=”” bordersize=”0px” borderradius=”0″ stylecolor=”” align=”none” link=”https://neilhanson.com/pilgrim-wheels” linktarget=”_self” animation_type=”0″ animation_direction=”down” animation_speed=”0.1″ class=”” id=””] [/imageframe][/one_fourth][three_fourth last=”yes” spacing=”yes” background_color=”” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” background_position=”left top” border_size=”0px” border_color=”” border_style=”” padding=”” class=”” id=””][fusion_text]

Pilgrim Wheels Excerpts This post is part of a series of posts, representing excerpts from Pilgrim Wheels, a story of a cycling journey across America. Pilgrim Wheels will be released in early March, let me know if you’re interested in doing an advance review.

[/fusion_text][/three_fourth][/fullwidth]

Silent Wind

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“Silence is the language of God, all else is poor translation.”
~ Rumi

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Day 6 – Victorville to Twentynine Palms, California

The earliest hint of light finds me wheeling my bike out of the hotel in Victorville. Following Highway 18 east into the little town of Lucerne Valley, I stop at what will likely be my last available water supply for 50 miles. Here, I leave Highway 18, and head further east on Old Woman Springs Road. (It’s also called Highway 247, but that’s a boring name…)

With no shoulder on the highway, I’m thankful for the very light traffic early on this beautiful Saturday morning. A fickle wind swirls in the mounting heat of the morning.

The wildlife along the road has changed with the landscape as I’ve moved further into the desert. For several miles, I pay close attention to chirping along the side of the road, assuming it must be some sort of ground bird. Eventually, I come to the conclusion that the chirping comes from small lizards (or maybe geckos) dashing across the road from one scrap of vegetation to another. I suspect they hole up in the shade as the day heats up, but here in the early morning, I can barely see them as the scurry across the pavement.

I also notice something less. Less noise. It’s really quiet. A mesmerizing quiet.

I pull over to have a little snack in the deepening quiet. A fierce and piercing sun scorches the desert floor around me, pushing the temperature upwards. I can see for tens of miles all around me, and it feels like the quiet reaches out across all those miles of baking desert. The light and silent wind swirls around here and there, playing across my skin, swirling dust in the road, hinting of a big wind to come. Continue reading “Silent Wind”