Week 4 - Tomorrow Never Knows - The Return Trip – Coast to Coast
/Turning East
I had come to the conclusion over the last several days that today would be the day that I make that easterly turn and begin to chip away at the miles between where I am and getting home. I started the day as if it was just another day on the road, with excitement for the ride and no quota of miles to do. I rode south down US101 crossing into Oregon from Washington early this morning. A strong sun and brisk air with a constant ever so slight haze hanging over the shoreline. I arrived at Cannon Beach, Oregon and the iconic rocky shore with outcroppings of massive rocks conspicuously sat in the ocean. Haystack Rock and the other iconic rock formations uniquely define the Oregon coastline. The morning ride and the Oregon coast, with quaint beach towns, was a parting gift.
Twisty lonely roads brought me in inland and the temperature began to rise. As I moved closer to McMinnville, I was entering wine country. There were fields of vegetables, hazelnuts, and finally vines as far as the eye could see. Arriving in McMinnville, an historic downtown in the heart of Willamette Valley, I stopped for lunch. I felt complete and that the trip had served its purpose. It’s a feeling and I’m sure there will be some further insights during the coming days. I still have about 3200 miles to go. With gratitude for the experience, it was now an opportunity to ride home with a feeling that blessed things happened each day. I had a spectacular experience over the last three weeks. Innumerable timeless moments filled with wonderful experiences that I know have shaped me.
Sitting Still at 80 mph
The day started following the Columbia River in Oregon. Today was the first day of what might be termed the “big push,” the beginning of the 3,200+ mile return trip home. However, it didn’t feel like a “big push.” The bike was moving fast on the Interstate, but I was sitting perfectly still on the motorcycle. Still on the seat as the bike carried me forward at 80+ mph. There was a stillness inside. This trip has had the effect of rooting me more firmly in the moment, in the Now. The speed I was traveling at and the number of miles in front of me did not change anything. Of course, I’m looking forward to getting home, but there is an acceptance of the miles over the coming days. It’s something to be done and something that will be achieved. My attention was focused on sitting still on the motorcycle, relaxed, and yet engaged fully in the ride. Twisting the throttle, leaning the bike, looking far and wide, and moving through the environment as my breath was relaxed. There was a rhythm to it all and an orchestra of activity happening. I was there witnessing it all. I was simply sitting still at 80 mph.
Into Idaho the heat of the day followed me, and the goal was to keep moving and let the air flow. The temperature, buffeting of the wind, and the traffic were all part of the “is-ness” of the day. That’s just the way it was. I felt a complete sense of acceptance of “what-is,” with no resistance, and fully in the moment. The result was that I arrived after 500 miles at a place for the night. It was many hours of riding. Even though my body might have registered the distance and time, it felt like a moment in time to me.
Racing a Hurricane to Florida
I had planned on getting home to Florida on Sunday, which gave me 5 riding days, including today. There’s a hurricane on a potential track to impact Florida most likely on Sunday or Monday. It’s still too early to tell. I’m sure Jeanette could get the house prepared, but the bigger issue is the impact to FL and the east coast. That means if I am not home before the storm makes landfall, I might have to wait it out somewhere else for several days. I want to get home by Saturday evening, one day early, which clearly indicates more daily miles. So, I’m in effect in a race with a hurricane. Today was a long riding day and the next three days will be the same. I’ll parse out the miles based on traffic, weather and how I’m feeling each day, but basically, I have roughly 2,000 miles to complete in three riding days. Rising early each day and hitting the road. Each day now going east I lose an hour and adjust to the time zone change. Miles and miles of straight riding.
Catapulted Through Timeless Moments – Yoga on the Motorcycle
I’ve talked about how there are so many experiences in a day, innumerable experiences, and that being in the moment produces this sense of timelessness. Experiences happen and it could be minutes, hours, or days and there isn’t a sense of elapsed time. There are just moments. I reflect on certain experiences and it’s not possible to associate an elapsed time to the experience. It just was. It just “is.” I rode 652 miles today and was on the road for 10.5 hours, not including breakfast, the prep, and cleaning-up afterward. Sounds like a long day on the motorcycle, and it was. Sounds like a lot of miles, and it was. Did it feel like 10.5 hours? What does that even feel like? It’s as if “time” had no relevance on the day. Sunrise, sunset, and my stomach were indicators of certain events. However, it could have all happened in a blink of an eye. I feel as if I was catapulted through the experience of the day, just slipping through and into moment after moment. This is the feeling every day on this journey, as well as the other journeys.
Sitting on the motorcycle is a meditation, a practice, a discipline, maybe it’s a form of yoga. These are all labels. The act of being in the saddle and feeling “fused” with the motorcycle and the environment in an active dance that is effortless and timeless, where I am part of the experience and separate at the same time. I am animated on the bike, engaged, and aware of all that needs to be coordinated and done. It flows and happens. Yet, I am there and “still” in awareness just seeing it all happen. When I reflect on 10.5 hours on the bike or I think about tomorrow’s long ride, there follows some uneasiness. However, when I know that it will just happen and I simply just have to “be,” then the “doing” of it all will becomes timeless moments and yoga on the motorcycle.
Flash Forward
How did I get here? What just happened? This is day 27 on the road and I have no sense of elapsed time. The trip seems like it’s been my reality for longer than I can remember and yet now that it is the last day on the road for this journey, well, it’s a blink of an eye. I think that’s true of all experiences. When it’s gone and past, it feels like an instant. It’s only when you reflect on the experiences you’ve had, big or small, that you realize there have been “innumerable timeless moments” to recount. Reflecting with no judgement is the key. It’s just recognizing that “stuff” happened and it was good, good to be alive, good to be involved in the dance of life, and good to be here and now.
I throttled all day ticking down the 728 miles until arriving home. The heat ramped up to an oven baking temperature of 96 degrees, at least that’s how it felt. Gas stops turned into filling the bike’s fuel tank, emptying my “tank”, and setting-up for on-the-motorcycle air conditioning. When the temperature outside is below body temperature, all jacket vents are open, several bottles of water are poured down my shirt, and evaporation starts when the bike is moving. Definitely a cooling effect, even if only lasting for a short time.
There were caravans after caravans of electrical utility trucks, tree trimming crews, and rescue-response teams heading south all day. All the resources were being sent and staged in preparation for Hurricane Dorian.
As I started to move through more familiar surroundings, the Florida afternoon rainstorms dowsed me. At 96 degrees F there’s no need to put rain gear on. The rain is a welcome occurrence. The temperature drops, albeit briefly, and it cools you off. I shed the last bunch of miles and there was an anticipation of being home.
A Rush of Emotions as the Journey Concludes
The realization of this journey ending became very real in the last 30 minutes of riding. The idea of transitioning to a new rhythm back at home and off the road played in my head. The lists of stuff, the relationships, the thoughts of the past and of the future, all flooded my mind as if it was a conditioned response. Thoughts, thoughts, and more thoughts flooded my head. I was excited to be arriving home, but there was also a range of other feelings. Stop! Enough! No more thoughts and no more thinking!
As I sat on the bike those last few miles, I caught myself. I had briefly been “unconscious” in thought, but I caught myself. Thoughts and the mental movies were playing in my head. I found my breath on the bike. As I continued riding, from the seat on the motorcycle, I sat back down into the moment, into the Now. That was the theme of this entire journey. For the briefest of time in those remaining miles, the effortlessness of being in the moment on the road, now required some additional diligence. The practice of being in the moment requires a bit more diligence when off the road. I remember that. I felt a stillness again as I throttled closer to home. I felt waves of gratitude for the journey I was just on and for the continuing journey of my life. I played the song in my helmet, “Tomorrow Never Knows,” by the Beatles from the album Revolver, as I rode those final miles home.
“Turn off your mind, relax and float downstream
It is not dying, it is not dying
Lay down all thoughts, surrender to the void
It is shining, it is shining
That you may see the meaning of within
It is being, it is being
That love is all and love is everyone
It is knowing, it is knowing
That ignorance and haste may mourn the dead
It is believing, it is believing
But listen to the color of your dreams
It is not living, it is not living
Or play the game existence to the end
Of the beginning, of the beginning
Of the beginning, of the beginning
Of the beginning, of the beginning
Of the beginning, of the beginning”
A stillness in breath and in being is what I felt. Acceptance of it all, of the “is-ness,” and rooted in the Now with gratitude and hopefulness. I AM and I am joyful. As I turned into the driveway of my home, the garage door raised, and Jeanette stepped out. Smiles on both our faces with a sense of reunion and celebration for “what-is,” I was home.
Day 22 – Week 4 - Long Beach, Washington to Cascade Locks, Oregon on the Columbia River with stops in Cannon Beach, Oregon, Manzanita, and then Historic McMinnville in the heart of Willamette Valley Wine Region. Finally heading home with 3200+ miles to go, heading northeast passing through Portland to catch I84E along the Columbia River
Day 23 - Cascade Locks, Oregon to Jerome, Idaho traveling along I84 East hugging the Columbia River, past the Columbia Gorge, The Dalles Dam, passing Boise Idaho, and making my way east by southeast.
Day 24 - Jerome, Idaho to Cheyenne, Wyoming - As a Hurricane Dorian is on a potential track to make landfall on Sunday, my arrival day, today I decided to move quickly at get home by Saturday evening, one day earlier, before FL is impacted. That means more daily miles as I race the hurricane to Florida
Day 25 - Cheyenne, Wyoming to Kansas City/Blue Springs, Missouri - Wyoming, Iowa, Nebraska, & Missouri and the big push east. Racing the Hurricane Day 2
Day 26 - Kansas City/Blue Springs, Missouri to Chattanooga, TN / Ringgold, Georgia passing through St. Louis, Missouri and Nashville, TN - Missouri, Iowa, Illinois, Kentucky, Tennessee, and Georgia with fucked up weather, rain, heat, and more fucked up traffic all for a glorious 13 hours on the motorcycle
Day 27 - Ringgold, Georgia outside of Chattanooga, TN to Home - Boca Raton, FL riding through Atlanta and at times with the caravan of utility trucks heading south for hurricane recovery