Homecoming (part I)

In Legget I used the "Blake, CALL YOUR MOM!!!" fund to let my mom know where I am and that I am o.k.





Atop the last big hill on the Sanoma County Coast, the most challenging day to date (many cars, ups and downs riding in and out of coves, strong winds, scant shoulders, and many miles).






Riding with Dan Walsh, the first friend to join me on the ride.






Gearing up for the ride into the city after a night in Joe's "Tiki-Lander" (a trailer-guest house/Tiki Lounge)



First stop on the ride into the city at the Fairfax Scoop where I was greeted by friends and family (from left, fellow rider Paul, Charis, my mom Karen, Kailey, Malaika, Me, Stephanie, and Josh & Ned in the window)





Gathering for the ride across the Golden Gate Bridge (from left El Jefe, Krassi, Drew, Paul, Me, Igor)











Random Thoughts
I ride to Legget where Highway 1 connects with 101, the base of the infamous Legget Hill. I stop to refuel with a mocha and a baked good before beginning the climb. At the counter, the clerk asks the usual questions, a conversation I have had at least 100 times, where did you start? how far are you going?...This short interaction usually end with some sort of exclamation from the questioner, WOW! or Huh?! or What Fun!...This time there was a pause followed by, "have you been calling your mom? "Yeah," I said, "Well when did you last call her?" "I don't know a couple of days ago I guess?" "Well, if you want, I will give you some quarters and you can go out to the pay phone and call your mom to let her know where you are." I politely decline, but after leaving the store realize that I can't turn down a free call to my mom. I return to the store and let the clerk that I will take him up on his offer. But first, I ask why he is so invested in me calling my mom, here is the story. In early June this guy named Blake headed out to Washington to do bike trip down the coast. As he rode, it never occurred to him to call and check in with his mom. Over time she became increasingly worried until finally she got in her car, drove out from Utah, and posted pictures and flyers up and down the coast. Near Legget she caught up with her son (I imagine a good tongue lashing followed). Afterwards she came into the store and gave the clerk a bucket with $100 worth of quarters and exclaimed, "Every cyclist who rides through here, I want you to give him quarters and have him call his mother!" Hence the "Blake, CALL YOUR MOM" fund.

There are so many subtleties that are experienced when on a bike as opposed to a car, sights, smells, sounds, shifts in the wind...One day as I rode along an empty, flat stretch of hwy, a California Daughter Butterfly fluttered along side me. For about 100 yards the butterfly fluttered and glided along side. With no wind or other bikers/cars it was a moment of just the two of us in the world, both taking in the other creature on the move. Later in the day, I desended a hill to a shoulderless bridge. Just as I dropped in, a fully loaded logging truck came barreling over the hill. I was committed, no place to pull off, the only choice was to ride like hell to try and beat the truck across the bridge. A few feet in front of the bridge, a Chipmunk scurried out from the bushes on the side of the road and on to the bridge. Chirping, squeaking, and looking over his shoulder, the chipmunk is now committed, running for his life trying to avoid the massive bike bearing down on him. I look back over my shoulder and ride for my life, trying to avoid the logging truck bearing down on me. We both cross the bridge just in the knick of time, breathing a collective sigh of relief.

I can't quite wrap my mind around the understanding that I have just traveled from Juneau, Alaska to San Francisco (now Santa Cruz) via kayak, bike, and public transportation (the Alaska ferry). Alaska seems so long ago, so far away. Was it even the same trip? I have been on the move for over 3 months now staying in more than 60 different places (a number that will likely reach 100 before I return to SF for Thanksgiving). The trip has taken on a life of its own now. It isn't something that I so much choose to do, nor something that I plan anymore. It is just what I do, who I am for this window of time. At some point in Alaska, I calculated the number of days that I had on this trip. One morning I announced to Phil that my trip was now one-tenth over. Phil was quiet for a moment before responding, "You know what I look forward to, the day when you have no idea what day it is on your trip." I must be past the halfway point in time and mileage, but I don't know where I am other than that...Santa Cruz today, Monterey tonight, Big Sur tomorrow, Baja in a couple of weeks. It is the zone where new learning and thoughts emerge, the space that I was either consciously or unconsciously looking for when I put this thing together. Everyone should have the opportunity to be in this space, alone with yourself amidst something larger than yourself that has taken on a life of its own supported and cheered on by the love and kindness of friends, family, and people you meet along the way.


Arriving Home
After a month without seeing anyone that I know (except a visit with Robbie DiPaolo, a former student who is now at Humboldt State), I arrive home to an amazing welcome from friends and family. A full week of seeing people I know every day, reconnecting, checking in, then heading out again. It was so easy, so comfortable to step back in for a few days. But then it was time to go again, hard to do, but without question or hesitation I knew I would continue onward. Unfinished travels ahead. I feel like every trip I have ever taken started and finished at home, I can't remember a time when I stopped off at home in the middle of a trip. It has rejuvenated me, a chance to rest my legs and lift my spirit in the way only time with loved ones can.

The final Stretch
On October 17th I arrive in La Jolla at my Godmothers house (Gigi and her husband Bill) where I will end my time on the bike. Along the way are many more friends and family to see. Paul Richeson will join me for a few days on the ride to our high school, Midland, then south to see my brother Brian in his latest play. From Santa Barbara it will be a straight shot through LA and into the San Diego Area, with possibilities riding with Brian Melley, seeing my cousins the Renos and staying with Dan Walshes family.
I have mixed feelings heading into the final stretch. After so much time out, so many times packing up and unpacking, being on the move is starting to wear on me a bit. On the other hand, I am very excited to travel by bike through parts of California that I have driven so many times in a car. Either way, this is what I am doing right now, I am on the move.