Reflections pt 2

A phone-call to bring this story full circle: Although cycling in America was, and remains, a long-term goal, it was made possible partly due to the motivation provided by Chuck & Gemma’s wedding. So it is neat that I post this just after Gemma called for what turned into a lengthy catch-up. We chatted as all good friends can, free of judgement and about all sorts. Rarely do I enjoy phone conversations as much. Actually I am rather odd on the phone. I prefer calling over texting, but am less good at the long phone conversations. I have a conversation window of about 10mins on the phone. I’ll spare you the details of this call but she asked how the new job was, and we joked at how Nicci is growing up and that Gemma is already married and we were scavenging hedgerows to make homemade jams etc...

To cut a long story short, Gemma winds up saying

“Oh speaking of growing up, I’ve got some news...!” Congratulations readied on my lips as the last time she had uttered such a sentence it had been to tell me of her engagement. You can imagine the list of ‘news’ that ran through my head here...

My point in bringing up the phone call was one of plans. The future doesn’t wait to happen, it occurs every moment in the present and the journey we have taken stays with us. Have I changed?

I think that it must be almost impossible not to change. Maybe if I had been travelling and cycling for 20 years...maybe then I would not change so noticeably. But change always happens and I like this. Too often the mistake is made that change is bad. Comfort is good and I seek it as much as the next person, but change doesn’t have to irradicate comfort, and it can help avoid the pitfalls of complacency.

So yes I have changed. Crucially I think that had I written these reflections earlier this year I would not have felt the change so profoundly. It helps that I have moved jobs and moved house since arriving back in the UK. Chuck has even turned 30 now!

Given the experience, and how clearly I needed to formulate plans and solutions to issues along the tour, I feel the ability to analyse situations better. Not necessarily in the field of my new work- teaching kids from incredibly tough social and emotional backgrounds- but in making decisions plans for achieving results.

Reminiscing over time spent in Charleston I have come to an interesting conclusion.

Either I was the luckiest guy in town that day and happened upon some seriously cool people at exactly the right time, or I live in the wrong place. If this kind of acceptance is more apparent in that part of the world it is a lifestyle I have been hunting and now the question I ask is where do I find it again. The easy acceptance of a stranger is hard to come by in England, in my experience, and I have many small ideas as to why this might be the case but it isn’t important. What is important is the simple observation- my point of view on the matter. I have tried and to an extent succeeded in finding the same sort of hospitality in my own house last year so I know it can be done. Now I wish to find this again.

The next thing for me is to formulate my next challenge. Work is certainly providing one at the moment but the experience of adventure, and the cycling were incredible. I will tell you of a dream of mine...I wish to canoe the lakes in the west of Ireland, and as I have mentioned previously, to cycle the west coast of America. The idea of cycling in America started from just such a vague thought and it stayed with me for almost seven years before it came to fruition. I hope it won’t be that long for the next adventure...

So that’s almost it from me here. I come at last to the close. At the moment I feel fitter, stronger mentally and a lot poorer! It is the financial issue that prevents further journeying for the moment, but while I cannot take on another journey just yet, I can keep writing. 

It would be my pleasure if you found just one thing in what I write that inspires or challenges. I strongly urge everyone to undertake a challenge like mine; do as I did and make it your own challenge. Go at a pace that suits you and seize all the opportunities that present themselves.

With love, Phil

P.S The news from Gemma on the phone...that story belongs to her! But for those of you who I met and haven’t met Gemma and Chuck, they are aiming to buy a house together. Not babies yet- which was my first thought! Congrats to them!

Lasting Memories

So the great comparison then...USA vs Home, pronounced Britain. Seems a little unfair at first but really I’m judging the corner of America I have visited, and America should realise that Britain is vastly different to London, or most preconceptions about our little Island!

The most important being that it is vast in many ways in comparison to the States. I use the words specifically. America is a band of STATES, each with its own governing body, and each different, in much the same way as England is different to France, or Ireland. Similar, but different. So ‘vast’ then... sure in one sense.

The difference geologically, up and down our land, is on a scale I didn’t encounter throughout any individual State, and we have a lot of people crammed in over here. That in itself is more of a difference than I can ever explain here in words. It should be experienced. Often whilst cycling, I heard people say to be careful over in North Carolina, or Tennessee (even though I didn’t make it there), and that’s fine, as opinions go. But here in Britain you could hear the same thing said by a Mancunian about a Liverpudlian. And the two cities (Manchester and Liverpool for you guys across the pond) are barely thirty miles apart! The differences found between the North and South of America are replicated over here, but on a tighter scale. So no you haven’t seen England at all if you have been to London.

What of other things?

Litter- much the same really, only in the States they use prisoners to clear roadsides. Probably wouldn’t work over here as not many places are as isolated.

Food- Britain scores highly here. We have such a diverse culture that we have a wealth of really excellent restaurants everywhere. Population centres make the difference, in Chicago you could say much the same, but in the South ‘Grits’, and anything corn, really doesn’t entice me. Perhaps it’s just me.

Travel- I’ll remember the long white line stretching out in front of me along the edge of the highways. Truly America has a wealth of things to see, I barely scraped the surface. Both countries cater for what they have. America has spectacular State and National parks, we have historic buildings. Until I cycle extensively over here (I didn’t tour much at all before I came to the States remember!) I’ll reserve any judgement on the comparative ease of cycle touring. That said, the smell of the Chicken wagons as they passed me on the roads will remain etched into my nostrils!

Weather- Too often we moan, but there is no such thing as bad weather, just inappropriate clothing. That said, I’ll take 85 degrees any time. Florida wins!

Drivers- Same, we are all human. Mostly.

Cars vs Trucks- ours are cleverer, yours are cooler. An automatic 4x4 truck is surely a motoring oxymoron. A 4x4 should be driven by a person who knows what gear they need, not by a computer. That said, I would always choose a truck if money were no object!

President/PM- a national representative. Trouble is we blame them for a lot of things. For example, Clinton was a great guy, and committed no crime, yet got impeached. I’m not condoning his actions, but legally, he was okay. Obama inherited the political equivalent of dryrot. I hope he maintains an intergrity. Our PM is almost honest, tackles issues and isn’t shy. As for his bad side, he represents only a minority in the unbalanced system we operate over here. I guess the real target of any ill-will in either case should be the media who seek to canvas our anger only to manipulate our wallets in their favour.

Overall I have three lasting impressions:

• During my weeks I encountered a nation of communities and people who struck me as friendly. It sounds simple doesn’t it? But this is said by someone who would consider himself a friendly person. It became a clear difference to me. The natural reserved-ness of the English should be no excuse for inhospitablity. Of course this is by no means everyone, but we really struggle to open conversations with strangers that don’t begin with a moan. Americans never struck me as having this flaw. I will remember this assessment and in this will try to copy an American attitude.
• I also encountered a broken America. In every town I passed through, decay was evident, an America that was beyond a glossy image. Patriotism has its disadvantages, perhaps, when change is avoided for fear it may change identity. Identity will change naturally, and is preserved by the passing of generations. Political, social or religious attitudes are often mistaken for identity and are a called tradition. Tradition becomes an immutable, fixed entity. It isn’t, or rather, shouldn’t be viewed as such.
• Cycling is great fun!

Reflections pt 1

Flying out over England took such a short time it almost surprised me. Previously I have flown to Russia, and more recently to Spain a couple of times and there we head south, a short flight out over the English Channel. What surprised me is how fast the flight out shot over the Irish Sea and onwards. When you are over 30,000ft up, everything looks so small and the internal flights in America were the same. One minute we were taking off from Miami, all square and flat, the next minute we were in Jacksonville, almost as if you could see both places at once, running from window to window in the plane.

How does such a vast country seem so small as I fly towards Chicago?

In my mind America is a vast tract of land, with a grand variety of geographical and social difference and all the richer for it. On this point, people often ask why I would want to go travelling in America- surely it’s not real travelling. I think the language belies tremendous differences, and a continent of incredible natural beauty that is diluted by the fact that this beauty is perhaps now too accessible. I can’t begin to tell of them all here. Go see for yourself. But I digress; flying over this land mass it all looks green. Of course, I am flying South-North rather than East-West. But I had naively expected more. It is the takeoff from Chicago that changes this. As we lift off into the night the city glows on the edge of Lake Michigan. Magical ribbons of light flow towards and away from the centre, the freeways transformed from beige monstrosities of the day. 

England

Much to my absolute delight the first words I took any notice of back in England were uttered by the security guard at the UK border control. Firstly, this isn’t border control a-la USA. No visible guns, or even people really! Strange for 11am. To picture this fella all you need to do is picture the chief constable from the film ‘Hot Fuzz’. For those who haven’t seen it, he is in his 60’s, white-grey hair over kindly eyes peering over the top of his half-moon specticles.

So he is telling of how the staff there had found a passport and returned it to the owner, who hadn’t so much as said thank-you before scurrying off. The border patrol gentleman was “a bit bloody miffed” with this, and I knew I was back on home soil!! Miffed, as far as I am aware, doesn’t translate across the pond. It means ‘to be (or have been) put into an irritable mood, and is quintessentially English. It is also sadly going out of fashion. My friend Jack (rightly so) holds that the script to V for Vendetta is let down by trying too hard to be English. I hear what he is saying but on this evidence cracks appear!

This is set to be a busy weekend but in a strange twist of fate i seem to have avoided jetlag. I had survive American cuisine for the whole trip, had finished everything put in front of me, with the exception of Sushi, which I had never had before, and won’t bother with again. It was interesting but I like the taste of cooked food. So as the dinners were handed I was concentrating on the in-flight showing of ‘Tron- Legacy’ and not on what I was eating. In hindsight the butter had a crumbly rather than creamy texture. So I spent the next two hours fainting into my own seat and trying not to throw up on the flight, and after this I was exhausted, finally fell asleep and slept until we were over Wales. Rested and recovered just in time for landing I was ready for the day, and the Easter weekend with my family.

First I dropped by on Matt, Suzie and my godson William. On Saturday we were off to visit my Uncle on his narrowboat. He has two blogs and has provided support with setting mine up. John has cycled round the world and is now travelling round England on his canal boat. Sounds a great plan for Easter, and I get to catch up with Mum, my brother and sister.

Chicago

Taking off from Jacksonville was a strange feeling. The place had come to feel almost like home. Even as I write, two weeks since leaving America, I still haven’t been away as long as I stayed in Jax, and at the beaches.

The plane headed through deteriorating weather and emerged out of the clouds near Lake Michigan. Chicago’s skyline is...impressive. The most dominating man made construction I have ever seen. Sure there are skyscrapers plural, but I use the singular to refer to the vast urban area that has built up on the shore of the lake. Usually everything looks small from a plane, but Downtown stood tall and intimidating, even more so against the flat water backdrop as the plane banked and approached O’Hare from the Northwest.

I hopped off the plane and headed Downtown. Great plan this- if you have to fly back to the UK or Europe for that matter, stop off for a few hours in your connecting city. Hopefully it tires you out a bit, you sleep on the overnight flight and arrive the next morning feeling...okay. The jet lag was certainly not as present as I was lead to believe it would be. I was tired, but travelling will do that for you!

I had travelled round parts of America and until the final plane journey no-one in this reportedly obese country had put anything in front of me that I had been unable to finish. Apart from Sushi. I tried that for the first time, (why not?) and I don’t want any more thank you. I prefer my food properly cooked to bring out the flavour. I tried to taste the differences but it was cold. Like hangover leftovers. Maybe it’s a culture difference because Brandon couldn’t get over my eating cold sausages (cooked...I’m not French hahaha! Oh... I might have started a rumour here). The pizza I ate in Chicago came close though. And it was only a small.

I wandered on my own about Downtown Chicago and made it to ‘The Oldest Bar’, of German origin, and sat with a ridiculously expensive bottle of average pale ale. Chicago was alright I suppose, but i needed company. I’m no good at doing the tourist thing on my own. This was a lonely end to my time here as I had no inclination to meet anyone. I was acutely aware that time was ticking for my flight home. Somewhere a plane was being ready that would carry me back to the land I had so fondly thought of during the first 3 days on the road. I don’t like wandering around London on my own with little purpose. I can wander hills and cliffs with nothing to do, but cities- no way, and Chicago, although mighty and foreign was really no different.

At ground level it is simply buildings, and they are nothing without people. Somewhere sit a bunch of folk, unconnected and unaware of each other, whose various lives and roles combine to promote this concrete leviathan. You need only to think of any song immortalising a city to understand what I see here. Recent popular artist have paid too much homage to New York in particular. I haven’t been. Maybe it has a special energy but I doubt it. In truth, it means something for those who love it, but it is just urbanisation promoted. The work is all human and the sight-seen buildings are nothing but shiny baubles on a planetary Jewel in the cosmos. Value- it comes from SELF.

Farewell to Florida, Friends and a Bike

It was an emotional farewell to each and every person as they headed home; Hong Kong, Melbourne, Manchester and other far flung cities. I sent the bike in for its service with Champion Cycles as I prepared to sell it.

People often put a face or name or personality to vehicles. I’m in two minds as to why this is. Perhaps just for fun but this seems... not quite the reason. Vehicles become part of the family. My mum used to call the old turquoise blue Peugeot ‘Suzie’. Cars are often ‘she’, as are Ships. I am tracing this thought back generations now, where sailors would not put to sea in an unnamed boat. Superstition was rife on the high seas, and you can understand why. 400 years ago, life on the seas was precarious. Naming a boat gave the boat a personality. Of course all these vehicles have traits that make them unique, and we all learn how to handle them as we drive/pilot our way on journeys.

Giving the vehicle a name and associated personality is a comfort ideal. We can reason and persuade other members of our family. That we know very little of engineering or mechanics matters a little less to us now. We can coax the vehicle to last, or have a personality to converse with as we travel. I wrote in ‘The Edge’ of the bike seeming to want to come with me. Later still I wrote of how I don’t get precious over ‘things’. Of course I still have tools and toys that are more valuable than others.

The bike was going to be sold on consignment, but this isn’t possible anymore. Perhaps you are all willing me to keep it but alas, it isn’t so. Maybe it is the work I currently do, where surfboards, boats and bikes etc all have a useful lifespan, but can outlive their time and then we sell them on. The bike is a great model and has travelled superbly but I will still sell it. Brandon is helping me out with this one. Keeping it serves no purpose at this moment in time. I have other adventures to pursue, but they don’t involve a bike. In truth, not having the bike means only that I won’t cycle much at the moment and although this is disappointing I am approaching the idea of cycling where I live with an American attitude. In all of England, the South West and the far North are the most isolated parts of the country. A car really is the only way to travel effectively, and I need a new one.

So what of MY bike; am I sad to leave it?

Honestly no. It was a great buy but I can find another. The adventure was not down to the bike but to me, and I think I feel that even if I brought the bike home as a trophy, the fondness i have for it would start to decay. I don’t have another trip planned and so it would sit in the bike shed, occasionally carrying me to the shop and back but this would seem paltry. In the end I bought two-wheeled freedom, and I don’t wish to chain that back up. Perhaps it is more romantic to stay in ignorance of the bike’s destination, and hope that it finds a new owner who has a trip planned and so the bike’s journey continues.

I am not too materialistic. Child of my time of course, but I don’t subscribe to particular brands, or have the drive for wealth that Kerry and others do. I need only as much money as it takes to survive, preferably with surfboards and petrol (gas) as extras. Of course it could be argued that I to climb the materialistic ladder by wanting luxuries such as a car and surfboards. My argument is that these things keep us sane and focused. To cite times past and say that these things were not needed by our ancestors is a redundant argument that I have also been guilty of using. Of course they didn’t, but the point of evolution is surely to find a happy balance with life, where we can afford not to struggle all the time. Swing too far and we risk becoming the lazy, lacklustre, stale and weakened society of dire warnings in science fiction novels such as the Dune series or more pertinently, H.G Wells’ ‘The Time Machine’.

When you read this novel and realise that in the 116 years since its publication the beginnings of H.G.Wells’ bleak outlook are playing out now, in our time, you should stop and wonder. Fortunately however, materialism is already dying. We just haven’t realised it yet. A new social epoch has emerged yet remains quiescent for the moment. The moment we work out how to harness more of the natural energy reserves available, human exploration of the solar system will be a step closer. And genetic coding to strengthen the species...it’s already out there. This isn’t a conspiracy theory but an observation of our times. We know what is possible, yet for the first time in history we are actively trying to cease evolving. Science and technology are held in check by an outdated ethical system. They have grown exponentially faster than our outlook has. Our human lives now span several radical scientific advances, and our social conscience does not yet evolve at an equal pace.  

This is not a call to abandon faith or any other governing principles, but to look forward more often than we look back.

I had only met Steph in the last few days, yet she offered to drive me to the airport. We hung out on my final day and spent a great day chatting about this n that. I had decided some months previously to fly back via Chicago, giving myself an afternoon in the city. I had this to lookm forward to, even though leaving Florida felt like closing a book on my tour. Every trip should have one last hurrah if at all possible.

The Wedding

The day itself starts with Chuck having stayed the night with Brandon, Matt and myself, all at Brandon’s place.

We all head for breakfast at Denny’s- big greasy food! I am educated on the differences between Biscuit, Cookie and other such foodstuffs. The words are familiar but as often happens the meanings change. So I had to try Biscuits and gravy: a very novel idea to an Englishman as our biscuits are traditionally sweet. And I ordered the Grand Slamwich. That sort of idea is very American! The waitress noticed my accent an asked if I was English, which was nice as it isn’t everyone who can place my accent right away. When I answered

“Sure” She hit me with

“Oh, I’ve been to Italy”

“Yeah that’s close” came the instantaneously condescending reply. I couldn’t help it, the poor girl! Chuck, Brandon and Matt dissolved into laughter. It was an easy start to a wedding day- which could always turn into several hours of high tension. I didn’t believe that Chuck would become stressed, he just isn’t that guy. But nervous and tense-sure- who wouldn’t be on their wedding day?!

The rest of the day involved setting up the venue, so we headed first of all to the beach house and wished the father’s an enjoyable afternoon watching the FA Cup Semi-final, and waited for word that Gemma had left the Serenata Beach Club and the way was clear for us. As tradition dictates, the groom wasn’t allowed to see the bride until the ceremony. As a result the journey to the club was amusing, with Chuck hiding behind my backpack just in case Gemma passed heading in the opposite direction.

The Wedding planner was suitably disorganized, but we had plenty of ‘cooks’ as the old proverb goes, and weren’t unduly worried. By 4pm, there was nothing left to worry about and after G+T all round, Chuck went to get ready while the final touches were sorted by Brandon and Matt.

Only that morning, Gemma had told me that I would be on videocamera duty. Brilliant- don’t get me wrong, I was honored- but to be in charge of capturing for posterity one of the defining moments in marriage…whoa hang on! Gemma’s dad and I get along well, but if I mess this up....was the train of thought in my mind. In truth, I relished the task, and simply thought ‘what would James (my bro and a talented film student) do?’

So I went outside and picked my locations, and watched where the official photographers were taking stands. At 5:45pm I headed for the entrance ready to capture Gemma as she arrived. The Mustang pulled up with Gemma flanked by her brothers, wearing Jono’s aviators to stop the mascara running in the wind! Such a cool bride! The rest of this story is best told in pictures and many of you will have access to these already. When Gemma and Chuck return from the honeymoon I will catch a few more from them then. As I was holding the videocam, I didn’t get many still shots myself and will have to borrow some.

I did see a scene worth describing though, as I don’t think it could be captured by any other means.

One Moment

Looking above the lense of the videocamera I was holding, I managed to catch a moment that spoke volumes. I was expecting Chuck to shed a tear or two, and in fairness, I had already choked in the little message I left both of them at the start of the video footage. I was behind the camera all night and I know Gemma well enough to know her likely reaction to me not being present on camera at all.

So as she walks between the aisles of chairs set out on the beach and arrives at Chuck’s side, she blanches ever so slightly. Finally a nerve shows in an otherwise serenely composed girl, no- woman, (it’s been 10 years phlaris, as she had said a couple of months previously).

Gemma looks down at the sand between Chuck and herself, and swallows gently. Her gaze travels up and meets Chuck’s. As their eyes lock they both smile at each other, Gemma takes a breath and straightens. This couple have been perfect for each other for years now, and the shared look strengthens them both. I don’t think the camera caught what I could see here, encapsulated in one moment.

After the ceremony everybody retired to the tables and the wine began to flow. The best man had to shoot off to get the cake topper and as speeches were called he wasn’t yet back, so Matt had to encourage a tactical newlywed kiss and had the happy couple visit tables to stall the proceedings. So fluid was this tactic I didn’t even realize it was unplanned until a couple of days later.

Soon we were at the first dance, and I filmed. Soon enough I was seized and dragged to the floor to encourage everyone else, who needed little encouragement! Camera down I could relax, and despite my hesitation at being early to the dancefloor (my traditional dance moves leave a lot to be desired, as I don’t practice often!), I was glad to join in fully with the rest of the evening. Of course there was a dance off, and later at the beach house the party continued with Keg-stands and cigars, cocktails and laughter and friendship.

On being a best man:

I have this role to play for a great friend of mine in September so I asked Brandon for a little advice. Brandon says that he didn’t really do much. That might feel true but I disagree. By his presence he did all that Chuck needed of him. Chuck knows that Brandon is the guy who will get stuff done if he is asked. That is the example I intend to follow. Although I believe I am already that guy, the lesson is in recognizing how useful this is, rather than feeling the need to dash around and create a ‘too many cooks’ situation.

A week beside the beach

The days building up to the wedding also involved some of the following:

Hanging out at Lillies (formerly and famously Shelby's)

Driving around in the 'stang, and getting the wedding licence

And finally...here are the couple who's wedding was the catalyst for my tour.
I picked a less than brilliant photo, sorry guys, but it
kinda works as a great intro to you both though!

Chilling (maybe not the right operative!) at the beach

his n hers helmets

Stag Party

The first thing that I need to say is that I didn’t take my camera out on the stag do. I wasn’t going to take the risk of losing any of my photos, and I would probably have broken the camera, so if you are expecting to see results, I’m afraid I will have to disappoint. The Wedding is a different story but I’ll get to that later. I will, however, try and furnish you with a description of the evening!

The plan was simple- meet up at the bike shop at 6, rent beach cruisers and head to the first bar! This we did and drew many stares as the cavalcade of twelve men on cruisers pedaled amiably up the beach round, round the corner and towards Culhane’s Irish bar, with Bobo pulling ridiculous and surprisingly successful barspins and bunny hops. For those who don’t know, beach cruisers are the bicycle equivalent of Chopper’s. Definitely not stunt bikes!

Actually, before I continue, allow me to introduce some of the players:

- Chuck- the Groom, born Texas and has lived in Jax & England

- Brandon- the best man, has known Chuck many years now and is in charge

- Matt- Brandon calls him ‘Brother’. Has a silver tongue!

- Lee- a great friend of Chuck’s, a red n white Brit who has been in Jax some 13 years now

- Jono- Gem’s older bro, lives in Australia, hang around him long enough and things happen

- Bobbo- Gem’s younger bro, a talented musician, writer and producer

- Nathan- Gem’s sister’s fiancée, and a talented rapper/backing dancer!

- Manu- a French gentleman, has lived in England 14 years, and survives thanks to his beautiful accent!

- Fabian- another French gentleman, of sharp wit and easy friendship

- Mark- a true northerner who tells it how it is

- Thomas- a Dane, and a great one! Recently introduced to myself and ready for action

- Don- the detective

- Myself- if you followed the blog this far, that’ll do…

So to Culhane’s and some food, with the waitress Matt was very nice too. As Brandon pointed out, she needn’t worry as he was already married. Matt has a filter but when it comes off, the mouth runs with a wicked sense of humor, a wit that could skewer any adversary and is accompanied by a heart of gold. We got on straight away.

Pedaling onwards the convoy arrived at Fly’s Tie. Quickly organizing beers to maximize drinking time, and then sitting outside round a giant table. This for me was the best point of the evening. Although the entertainment ramped up later, here were 13 blokes, who had only Chuck in common. In truth almost none of us had met each other before, yet the conversation was easy and the mood great. It’s a lot less easy to find a bunch of guys who all get along than you would have believed from this night, yet we managed bonding consummately (*novel turn of phrase there Phil!), greasing the gears of banter with Guinness and Jagermeister! Well done fella’s!

After this we headed for Chuck’s favorite…Pete’s bar. More drinks and then we gathered around the foozball and ping pong tables. After heated competition in which Matt and I almost staged a comeback having been 5-0 down, we still lost and wept into our pints. Sort of. Anyway, misery had to take a back seat as all 13 of us attempted with reasonable success to play a round robin of ping pong- swatting at the ball with hands or paddles- whilst running around the table!

After this I forget a bit, apparently we went to Ritz, I was denied entry and the hens were flagging so we agreed to meet back at Pete’s. Jono went via a hotel lobby, on his beach cruiser, and we made it back to Pete’s and celebrated into the night.

Although not intentional, pedaling round the stag do was a neat accompaniment to my journey. The pedal home was less successful, involving multiple crashes and cycling over Atlantic Bridge on the wrong side of the 3 lane road. Foolish but funny too. Bear in mind that for the start and end of this evening, Brandon and then Chuck were cycling whilst carrying another bike over a shoulder! Chuck less successfully because he was doing it on the way home, after a skinfull, and for 4 miles! That about sums up the night.

The following day was largely hungover and involved a big ole BBQ for 27 mouths. The shopping list Gemma sent me was incredible, and Nina, Fiona and myself did the shopping inc 120 sausages without Chuck, having left him sleeping off the Stag party on a table in Costco’s café area! The celebrations didn’t end either. Gemma and Chuck always insisted that they required no gifts, and were more than happy just to have everyone who made it out celebrate with them, and in true G+C style, not only arethey having another party when they get back to England for those who couldn’t be there, they also refused to let Jono’s or Manu's birthday's, and Don + Fiona’s 30^th wedding anniversary pass by unnoticed. Cakes all round! It’s these things that gather such a group of wonderful folk around them.

Something to Say

Thanks to the last few weeks and a verse from The Animal Collectives’ ‘Summertime Clothes’ I think I finally understand the appeal of simply walking. I know a lot of people who go for walks, but it hasn’t computed in my head until now. As you will recall, this blogspot is called Rambling for the Impatient. I have usually required a reason to walk and as for running, Anna and I chatted briefly the other day about her marathon running, I mentioned how I can’t just run without purpose. I need a ball to chase or somewhere to get to in a hurry. I’m not an impatient person in many aspects, but under these terms I am. 

But now maybe I understand…

Cycling solo has given me time to think, and I have recorded many thoughts. But it isn’t just the time that is important; it is also the physical movement. The motion and energy needed to cycle isn’t as vigorous as you might think, particularly after you find a rhythm. The movement triggered my brain. I’m not the only person who paces as they think; it’s probably why I struggled to find concentration in so many classrooms. I didn’t underachieve at all but now I reflect, the education system didn’t do me and isn’t doing many others any favours at all. And now America is considering reform of the way sport is approached in education. I implore you- please do not change your system. I have seen what your proposed alternative is in the diabolical way sport is taught in many English schools.

I give you the lyrics from ‘Summertime Clothes’:

“But restless is causeless and I cannot hide

so much of my mind that it spills outside,

Do you wanna go stroll down a financial street

our clothes might get soaked but the buildings sleep

And there’s no one pushing for a place

let’s meander at an easy pace

And I want to walk around with you

and I want to walk around with you” 

Of course understanding this is harder without the context of the rest of the song and I recommend a listen. Personally I go for tracks with music I like and/or lyrics I identify with. Maybe you will be put off by the tune in the end, although one listen won’t hurt!

Nonetheless, this for me is an important verse. It encapsulates the origins of my restless feelings and then tells me that I am approaching restlessness the wrong way. I don’t need something to do, but some time to think. My spilling mind needs no more stimulation from buildings, or the physical world, and I’m glad that they sleep. All I need is the exercise of a walk to contemplate, or a companion to converse with: Causeless feelings solved in these instants. I might go for walks more often and take advantage of the beautiful place where I live.

At this point I would like to say Thank you:

To all whom I met along the way. I have named many of you already,

And to those who have been reading my blog and caught up with me at the wedding and whom are yet to receive the mention I wish to give.

I did not expect over 3000 page views. I would have been delighted at 1000. And the number of visitors staggers me. I have received an almost overwhelming response to this blog, and so many people have said they have enjoyed reading my thoughts and experiences.  Honestly I have surprised even myself, and although the pages have turned out every bit as happily and as clearly as I wished for, the fact that more than just my family have found humour and interest here is beyond gratifying. The coach in me hopes that somewhere I have inspired other adventures, but as I sit here now I am glad if you smiled with me along the way. I say thank you because without an audience to write for I would not have put as much effort towards this blog as I have, and consequently would not have got the same unbelievable level of enjoyment that I have experienced from writing about my travels.

I will tell you when I have put the final entry in here, although first I wish to do justice to an amazing few days with (as Brandon put it perfectly) the most down to earth, good looking bunch of people one could ever hope to meet!

Contemplation in the calm

It's been a busy week or ten days, as you would expect with a wedding and stag (bachelor) party to hold.

But before we get to all of this, I was just arriving back in Jacksonville. First I dropped Jordan and Ariel on 2nd street, Neptune Beach and guided them towards 3rd St (A1A) as hitching was likely to be best from there. Next Javier and I had to find the rental location where I was to return the car, and we had 40mins. It was at least a 20min drive and we had to get gas. As it turns out, getting gas in this country is harder than expected. You have to pay before you pull, and my pump didn't work. In England we just fill what we need then pay. Simples!
But the attendant was the nicest girl we could have hoped for and her directions to the Hertz rental location were absolutely spot on. We made it with minutes to spare and it seemed that everyone we met this morning was having a good day. Smiles abounded and the guy sorted a taxi for Javier, who has since made it to Gainsville, and I believe is now in Miami. For me, the Hertz driver gave me a lift the final few blocks to Lee and Nina's house. And I arrived back were I had started, a day shy of one month on the road.

Made it. An unusual finish to a bike trip but hey!

As they were out I had a couple of hours to myself to pull all my things inside and sit in contemplation in the back yard. The turtles were sunbathing and all of a sudden it felt as though I had never left. It was a strange dislocation, knowing how long each day on the road had been but feeling that somehow time had compressed all of these days into one and I was back gazing at the pond in Leena's yard. I recounted the days in  my head. I find this easiest to do by thinking of where I slept each night, and the journey to those places. I missed a couple of nights the first time i reflected this way, but that still leaves me with 28 days as clear in memory as i could wish for.

 Memory is a strange thing. It seldom gives exactly what you wish for. We cannot re-live the feelings we had as we were pedaling, surfing, cooking or writing in the present, but it gives a new perspective. Perhaps before I had spent too long fighting memory, willing feelings to be as strong or as real as they once were. Now I sat having finished the one thing I have wanted to have a go at for years.

I have wanted to cycle in America for years- since my gap year in 2003 before University. I think that I can trace the idea back that far. But it was always simply a dream; a wish never considered at length, until I began to work as a coach at Skern Lodge. Here I learned to kayak, canoe and surf, all of which had been dreams dating back even further. This instilled in me the belief that I could turn my dreams into reality without the need of chance or a lucky break. I could achieve the cycling on my own. So as the whirl of chaos at being newly single dissipated around May last year, and Gemma rang me and told me she was marrying Chuck in Florida, a plan hatched almost instantaneously. It wasn't borne on the wind and plucked from thin air. Now was the right time to chase the dream of cycling in the States, and the wedding of a great friend was the catalyst. The first plan was to go from Texas, point-to-point as it were. This would have costed far more and I realised it was unnecessary.

As i sat in contemplation I hardly moved. The swirling around me had calmed, and for the first time in over 15 months I was perfectly at peace. I had no other goal tugging at me and was able to totally enjoy the feeling of accomplishment. No-one could erase that feeling. I highly recommend it. True not everything went along as originally planned but the fault there is not to recognise the new opportunities afforded in the changed plans. Of course, being me and needing something to do, the need for a new goal will arise, but not just yet. I'm going to enjoy the calm for a while longer. Besides, the next weeks were about Chuck and Gemma.
And the one thing everybody is keen to know is the distance I covered... I broke the cycle computer so I can't really say for sure, but I have inaccurately calculated it to being 910 miles. This is from the internet and doesn't quite take into account my detours and use of less than direct routes, and I have yet to cycle to the wedding itself. But it will do. I think of the journey more in terms of the time between friends found on the route.

I don't smoke, but a celebratory cigar is a time to break that rule!

The House of Fur and Friendship

The wind stayed strong enough to knock down a large branch on to a truck across the street from us, and a palm branch fell brushing my shoulder on the way down. We spent the evening enjoying well-recommended pizza by Jordan, and hoped that surfing was the order of the morning. I awoke to the sounds of all hell breaking loose as the predicted storms were unleashed. Lightning ripped up the sky and the wind and rain were immense. Glad not to be camping, I snuggled deeper into the blankets shared by myself and on occasion, Ben the dog.

Surf was out of the question in the morning, and although Jordan made it out later in the day, I had to pick up the rental car at midday. Caitlin kindly drove me out to get it. We relaxed until four and then I needed to be heading for Savannah. I asked to surf a couch there and Tess had said yes. It was a final opportunity to see some more folk of a different city. It was a tough farewell to Charleston as I wished Cait, Kat and Jordan all the best. I realised too late  that I had no photos of Cait, Jordan, Kat et al, a mistake i didn't make again.

I set out, back over the bridge that had previously nearly guided me into the outside of 3 lanes of traffic on a bike, and headed for Savannah. It was a pleasant 90 minute drive as the sun set and the evening’s calm had me relaxed and listening to Spanish radio. I couldn’t understand a word but the music was good. Driving wasn’t new, as I had the Minivan at the start of the tour, but I spent little time ‘cruising’ and all my journeys had been short. This was nice, America from the perspective of a car. My butt had been so used to cycling that it was numb after 45mins sitting still in a car.

I arrived in Savannah and found Tess’s house on memory. I hadn’t been there before, but I had memorized the map from Caitlin and Jordan’s Ipad earlier that day. It’s a tactic I frequently use, usually to good effect but sometimes it goes awry!

Chad

Tess was expecting me to arrive by bicycle but either way I had made it and she welcomed me in. Chad immediately put a beer in my hand, and along with their two housemates, two dogs and two cats, there were also another 3 couchsurfers staying- a big happy traveling family! Introductions were swift and simple and we launched into tales of travels and what we were up to. Jordan (another of the same name) and Ariel were traveling South together, hitchhiking from Wisconsin and their journey had been remarkably simple thus far. Javier was from Argentina and had worked for 3 months on exchange in a Ski resort in Massachussetts, and was now heading for Gainsville. The travels for these guys were still fresh whereas mine were almost at an end.

Performing a little surgery on Tess

 Having decided to get more beer as we would need it, we popped to the local Piggly Wiggly and Tess managed to put an inch long splinter in her hand, and it wouldn’t budge. Not a problem, I remove my splinters with my knife all the time and offered to do the same for her, not seriously expecting her to accept. Who would let a relative stranger attack with a blade! But we were at ease now, having swopped back-stories. Mine involves a process built over the previous year, starting out of a rough few months at the end of a relationship, but ultimately granting the time to wander and end at her house. Hers and those of Kim echoed these sentiments. So I sterilized the knife and went to work. After maybe 10mins the splinter was free, the cut clean and the pain minimal. Smiles and a game of Poop Smoothie resumed. It’s basically charades with crazy-ass rules!

Jordan, Ariel and dogs Eugene and Toro

 Then came the indentured slaves debate. Actually the content went out the window quickly, and the form of the debate became the fixture. When the slaves in America (and I would assume the same for Britain, but our history at school does not cover this unsavory time very well) were freed, they were offered the option of remaining with their former owners and working for payment: Often meagre and conditions would invariably be poor.

The choice was: freedom released into a land where they were outcasts with no skills beyond those learned in bondage, and a culture that looked upon them as third class citizens, or stay and work under their former owners. The debate ran thus…on one side, they have the choice of freedom, on the other side, this wasn’t a true choice. The freedom to die is no true freedom.

The problem was, both sides are correct. From a rational point of view, sure there is a choice. Freedom (on paper) is an option. On the Humanist side, this is not an option. The life outside indenture was essentially a death sentence.

The debate heated and became an argument. I stayed out, as did a quiet Javier sat on my right. It was drunken and shortly the mission was simply to prove that you were right. It reminds me of British parliamentary debate. The aim being to show your opponent a fool, rather than to debate over real issues.

So I felt the need to interject and point out that the argument was being fought on separate and distinct battlefields. On the one side, rationality is being defended and on the other, the argument is humanist. These two schools of thought often become irreconcilable in this way.

Javier and Chris.

 

The mood calmed and the night passed on peacefully and when the time came we all slept in various places around the house in good company.

The following morning, I headed for Jacksonville, joined by Jordan, Ariel and Javier. I had plenty of room in the car and we were all heading the same way. I wasn’t completing the last leg on a bike, but for these guys, that was a great bonus. Things tend to unfold neatly especially when you stay positive and we had to be some of the most positive folk, all traveling with fortune and fate, wondering what lay around the next corner. 

A Distinct Perspective

The next two days were pleasantly spent with a few people acting as my guides around Charleston. I needed new flipflops of course, and everyone seemed to work or have worked with food so many restaurants were sampled.

Cooper River Bridge

One thing I did need was credit. America had recently started doing prepaid cellphones (a few years behind England for sure!) And I was out of luck- no T-Mobile store anywhere Downtown. So I headed out on foot over the Cooper River Bridge. The City of Charleston plays host to 40,000 folks each year who arrive to participate in the Cooper River Bridge 10k run. From Athlete’s to everybody else, they all join in. Had I known this a day earlier I would have pedaled harder and joined in the event. Still, I walked the bridge as I felt my muscles would approve of some change of pace. It was roughly a 7 mile round trip, again without a map. Sometimes I just go and to hell with the possibilities. Just before I set foot on the bridge a friendly jogger bade me good luck. “It’s windy enough to blow you off” she smiled! Wasn’t lying either, but a bit of wind isn’t unfamiliar so walking at a decent angle of roughly 30 degrees I made the trip across. The wind must have been blowing steadily at Force 6, or 30mph for those who don’t speak Beaufort.

Once across I wandered in the direction of fancy, passing the local broadcast base, T-Mobile was nowhere to be seen. I chanced across Staples and hunted for a prepaid credit card which luckily they had. Errand complete I headed for the shade of Eurasia bar. Once inside I found that I was about the only customer there. The waitress convinced me that the food was good and she wasn’t wrong- best French Onion soup ever! It seems strange to me to find a little gem of a place like this among all the shops and stores of a commercial district/carpark.

The waitress’s name was Kerry and she was definitely bored and if I left she was in for a long afternoon, as she put it. Somehow we got to the fact that this was her last week in the job. She was heading for pastures new. Kerry is a classically trained violinist who’s art has fallen on hard times. The economic crisis has apparently hit America’s symphonies and she has found herself limited. So she decided to go back to school and study Law. (Note- when I say school, I am using her term for Uni) I asked her what had drawn her to Law.

Her reply was as honest as you could wish for- Money. She harboured an ambition to help people but I will be honest too. Every lawyer I have read about has made money first and then helped people once their livelihood and reputation is secure. I could see she knew this. I quoted Jack Dee in this respect:

Choose two of three:

• make lots of money
• enjoy what you do
• work within the law

She replied that she thought she would be happy. We both knew that she loved the violin. Law was a gamble. She used money to go on holiday with her sister, one year in Europe and the next in America. We had both been to Barcelona and so spoke of this wonderful city, but through different eyes.

What to make of this old American dream?

Firstly, I fixed on the impressionable, attractive, likeable and outgoing person she was. An easy smile and just the right amount of awkward in the first throes of chit-chat.

But what of her aims, so different to mine. Or were they? Sure we traveled through different methods, but comfort meant the same thing to both of us. I had simply forgone the comfort ideal in search of something else. 

So to the ideals then: Previously I would have thrown the idea of choosing money over happiness straight out the window. But I was here to see life through new eyes, so I tried. I liked the risk she was taking. As we spoke it became clear that it wasn’t a false ambition, but she was aiming high and believed in her potential to achieve this ambition she held. She justified well. Why then does it still sit badly with me? She wasn’t falling prey to the often stumbled upon ‘ambition that outweighs reality’, as demonstrated in talent shows that parade endlessly across our TV screens at the moment. Kerry had a plan that was carefully thought out. We were alike again. 

So what of money? It is simply currency. To see it in this term is to see the value of other currencies- the ability to survive on less of it, or to bargain using talents rather than a cheque (check). But money is easy. We value it because it revolves around a simple system regimented through a central government. Our society barters less because we have lost the skill. What has happened is that the FORM of currency has greater value than the skills it has replaced, which is why bankers are rich. And was her easy smile based on receiving a tip? I reckon so, at least at first. After a while she saw that an hour had passed swifter and more pleasantly than expected and she said as much.

Returning to the human issue between myself and Kerry, I’ll accept the answer that it comes down to who you are and how you see yourself. We were different and this is welcome. But such a conclusion will no doubt seem as unsatisfactory to you as it does to me. I will return to this issue after more thought. In truth this is a theme that can be found throughout the experience of travel, and deserves a fuller answer.

Of course on the way back I found that I had walked right past the T-Mobile store.

Downtown Charleston beyond the docks

Night Nacho's

Once showered and changed, Caitlin, Will, Emily myself and a few others headed for a bar with patio. To be inside on a day like today would have been criminal. I didn’t make a big deal of the end of my cycling, but feeling relaxed, happy and in the mood for personal celebration, the first round was on me. The Guiness was a tad watery and slipped down far too easily. So we got on the jugs of PBR. It was cheap and did the job! We were joined by more folk throughout the afternoon, stayed for some food and then headed back home, grabbing beers on the way.

Will held court on doggy serotonin levels as he rubbed Ben’s hips (Ben, or to give him his full title- Bennington- is Caitlin’s dog. I mention this lest Will come away from this post sounding odder than is strictly true!) Ben duly dozed. It’s always hard to tell quite how inebriated you are when sat down, but as we stood to get more beers from the fridge, we could all tell that our legs were drunk! I made conversation as to the unnoticed but definite advantage that American’s have on dates. Not the fruit but when out, on a date.

Allow me to explain: In America girls drink beer, and happily so. In England, in my humble experience, although beer is drunk by girls it isn’t a common practice. It would seem a great lack of foresight, and would probably count against a guy, should you arrive back at his place and there was no wine on offer. Or if he returns from the bar having predicted that Yes you really would prefer lager. So to the problem of wine- What to pick? Rose is something we guys know little about, but fortunately can be made simple…dry or sweet. And as it’s Rose, even the dry is usually a little on the sweet side. I drink Red wine, and enjoy it, at home or with a meal but not at the pub. To me pubs are for ale. It’s a habit but as I like ale I see no reason to break the habit. White wine, on the other hand, is my stumbling block. I don’t know sweet from dry and all varieties in between. House wine seems a safe bet but also sounds cheap. Not what you want for a date.

So you see, with everyone drinking beer, a simple yet crucial opening mishap is avoided in the USA. Nice work there America! Mind you, a good wine can make for excellent opening conversation, where a conversation about beer invariably arrives at stories of drunken inhibitions and ruinous times. You choose as to what your new date would prefer to hear and guide the conversation accordingly…

Back to the room where Will is lying prostrate on the floor, I have introduced Tim Minchin, and they have in return given me Louis C K. This fella is FUNNY and we are roaring with laughter! Eventually Nicole wants to hit another bar- her new workplace- so a few of us head there. Timmy Condon’s is affectionately (or notoriously, I didn’t work out which) known also as Tiny Condom’s. Either way, I’m delighted to see a fiddler playing and a true bar round which we stand and order drinks. I still haven’t gotten used to the waitress service at American bars. We hit the Rumplemints shots and memory fades at this point. We need to get outta there before Nicole is fired without even working a shift! I do remember breaking a flipflop and we had to buy duck tape to fix (I believe Drew fixed) it so we could get into the next bar. I don’t remember, and neither does Kat, making Nacho’s with her when we got back, but Caitlin tells us she heard that part and the Salsa stains on clothes label us guilty of drunken cooking!