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!