The last three weeks have been a shit-storm of epic vistas, brutal winds, wet tents, secluded beaches, solo skinny-dipping, burger binges, and adrenaline induced truck dodging. My cheekbones are rosy from sunburn and wind-chap. My palms are sore and callused from supporting my weight on my barely-padded handlebars. A damp tent and odorous sleeping bag are no cause of discomfort. Putting on the same damp shirt I’ve sweated in for the last 200 miles is casual and without complaint. I’ve grown accustomed to waking up at sunrise either with the chirping of birds, the crashing of waves, the tapping of rain, or the machine gun rattle of a big-rig’s engine breaks. It feels normal to end the day in triumph and exhaustion, with legs that either feel like noodles or rigamortis stilts. However, while my nerves have been tempered, it’s still terrifying to have a logging truck growl past at 70mph on a shoulderless road, two feet from my face.

The people I have met on the road have been nuts (meant as the highest compliment possible). There was the creative utilitarian who outfitted his bike with kitty litter buckets as panniers. Or there was the German scientist with a three foot ponytail teaching himself to play harmonica around the campfire. Unabashed by their dreams and whims, nearly every night feels like a lost chapter of a Steinbeck novel written while on LSD. So what have I been doing with my life? Learning how to make panniers out of kitty litter buckets of course! Playing John Prine songs on my ukulele while Sven blows on his harmonica without any idea what key it is in! Talking and laughing with old men and women about how they used to do it all with canvas tents and wooden skis! Outrunning storms as they hit the coastline! Grimacing through headwinds and big hills with nothing to do but keep going!

Traveling alone has been trying at times. It’s not uncommon to catch myself punctuating a thought out loud, followed by self-amused laughing. I could have used some high-fives at the tops of those big hills, or a good laugh in the wet tent. Fortunately, many of you have participated in imagined conversations along the way. As I round the corner of the half-way point, I’m looking forward to seeing my friends and family. I’ll see you soon for a good meal and a warm laugh!