ST: Day 49

Daily Miles: 61.43

Total Miles: 2721

Avg: 12

Max: 30

Time on the bike: 05:06:12

One of the most frustrating things about camping sometimes is waking up to a soaking wet tent when it didn’t rain. This has happened the past several nights even though it’s been bone dry. The moisture in the air at night has to settle somewhere, and that somewhere is your tent if it happens to be out in the open, not underneath a nice set of trees or picnic awning.

I shoved my sopping wet tent in its sack and got my other things together. My bike has been getting drenched the past few nights also, so my chain has been kind of janky that past few days. I did a quick clean with some coffee filters and re-lubed the chain before heading out. It was a quick and crappy job but it was better than it was before.

I was on highway 60 for 4 miles battling with the morning traffic through Globe, and then finally hung a right onto highway 188 which led me into the Tonto National Forest. Beautiful mountains and scenery lay before my eyes as I decended and climbed up a small chain of ridges to get over the other side. Large cacti stood green and erect on the mountain slopes, like lime green Popsicles sticking up from the red and brown earth, acting as sentinels of the undulating desert.

After a steep 2 miles climb I eventually reached the apex of the pass, and had a very long and fast 5 mile decent down to Roosevelt Lake.

I stopped into the general store there and grabbed a cup of coffee. Even though it wasn’t that cold I needed to warm up from the long decent. I sat outside and watched people go in and out of the small store, buying odds and ends, some soda, beer, a few sandwiches to bring out on the lake while fishing. Two guys stopped to chat before going inside.

“What happens when you need to climb?” One of the guys said in an unmistakable Louisiana accent.

“Just put it in the lowest gear possible and don’t stop moving your legs until you reach the top!” I said.

They both laughed and walked into the store. The sky was bright and blue and the sun beat down on the earth and the lake, making shimmers in the almost nonexistent waves. It was starting to heat up but it was cool in the shade where I was sitting and drinking my coffee.

The two southern guys walked out of the store with a bag of chips and some salsa.

“When I was young I told myself I was going to do that,” he said, looking at my bike with eyes of longing. “But then I got old.”
He lingered a little, thinking about something, maybe that dream he once had when he was 18 or 25, now just a dream that probably would never be fulfilled.

“Enjoy your ride, son” he said, and turned to walk away.
“It’s never too late,” I said.

He stopped and smiled and said, “For me it is.”

There was disappointment in his voice as he stared into the mountains and walked to his car. The way he looked out into the hills was painful to watch, like riding a bike across the country was really a dream he had once had. A lot of people say, ‘I wish I had done that when I was younger.’ Or ‘I would like to do that some day.’ But most of those people just say those things to make idle conversation, or to say something just to fill the empty air.

But this guy really meant it. And I felt sorry and sad. It really wasn’t too late. It never is. But he didn’t believe that. So the time to do such things, in his mind and in his world, had passed a long time ago.

I finished my coffe and headed back out. I was having fun on the ride today and didn’t feel pressure to proceed any particular amount of miles. This was national forest land and I could pretty much camp wherever I wanted.

I stopped after spotting two lean guys with small backpacks and large beards. I knew I was in the vacinity of the Arizona Trail, which is a long distance hiking trail that spans the state from south to north, so I wondered if they were AZT hikers.

And sure enough they were. We chatted for about 20 minutes about both our trips. It was really great to be in the company of hiker trash. There really is no comparison of more down to earth people. Fellow cycle tourers are similar, but there is a deeper understanding and respect in the thru-hiking community. I can’t really explain it.

They had both hiked the AT and PCT years passed, and turns out they had made a pretty popular YouTube video on the PCT called ‘As it Happens’, which I think I have watched at some point. They were filming their AZT adventure and were even carrying a drone, which I have never seen a hiker use before. It was pretty neat and I look forward to thier vid of the AZT in the future.

I few miles from the hikers I ran into another cycle tourer cycling east. He was a really young kid, 18 years old. He had started in San Diego and was cycling to St. Augustine, Florida, where I had started about 50 days ago. He looked fresh and eager and full of life. His facial hair was sparse and stringy, with whisks of hair above his lips and chin. He was trying to grow a “beard”, but it wasn’t working.

“Man, you’re almost done,” he said, eyes wide. “Has it been awsome!” he exclaimed, stoked about his epic ride ahead of him.

“Yeah…it’s been alright.” I said, fairly unenthusiastic. “Today has been the most scenic day of the whole trip, actually.”

As soon as I said those words I wish I could have taken them back. The young kids face lost its flare and he looked like the wind had been taken from his sail.

“Really?” He asked, a little disappointed.

“Oh, well there is still lots of great stuff to see,” I rebounded. “The route has been more about the culture, which has been really fantastic. The trip has been great. You’re going to have an awsome time.” I was trying to beef up my journey, to try and get this kid excited about his big odyssey ahead of him.

“Okay, cool.” He said. Satisfied.

I’ve been breaking people’s dreams all day, I thought: Reminding one old guy that he’ll never get to do this and undermining some 18 year old kid’s big dreams of having an adventure of a lifetime. I’ve become a monster; a destroyer of dreams; an anihalator of hope; a purger of ambition.

I was just being honest. I guess I can’t fault myself for that. The trip had been a bit underwhelming until recently. But it had been very interesting. I’ll give it that.

We chatted for a while longer giving each other tips and comparing notes, and then we said our goodbyes. I watched him ride away down a hill and out of sight, full of energy and life. I hoped he was going to have the trip he was looking for and a journey to remember for a lifetime. It’s a big undertaking for a kid so young but I knew he was going to succeed. He had great attitude and curiosity. And that’s all you really need.

Maybe 50 years from now he’ll be passing by this same place and see some young guy or gal cycle touring. And instead of saying, “I should have done that when I was your age,” he’ll say, “are you having a great trip? I had an awesome time when I cycled cross country when I was your age. Let me buy you a beer and we can talk about our adventures.”

And then the young guy or girl wouldn’t have to say “it’s not too late”, or have to watch a person think about thier unrealized dreams and aspirations. To think themselves why they got to do this trip but that person didn’t; why the things we don’t take action on end up haunting us more than the things we do.