Day 32, The Lunar Day

Oh, Mr Moon, I see you there and know that you see me. Here, on this straight and blue-black road. Cranking in the half light with my beam thrown out in a fast ball pitch and my tires humming and me smiling at the stars and the night and you. You’re peering over night’s mantle and throwing down your washed out not-full moonlight. Just enough to make the morning seem likes it’s rushing in. Rushing, rushing from a late night out with one too many drinks and feeling that trip-trap stagger dawn. It is 5:30am and I am riding into …

Day 31, The Pie Day

Darkness. The ak ak, ak ak ak of some night time insects. One goes off, another answers. No traffic. An eerie glow of the light near the shower block. When I crawl out of my tent and walk towards it, I notice the moon is also exposing everything. The buildings, the slippery slide and swings. I stop. Look up. Pray mosquitos don’t attack my bare legs while I’m gawping here. All the stars are wrong. My brain spins wildly looking for a rail to hang onto, something familiar and solid in the night sky. The absence of the Southern Cross …

Day 30, the WTHN Day

Freezy knees. Jacket on. The day’s dimmer switch is slowly tweaked and light pushes dark away. My poor achy knees are not enjoying this. They radiate stiffness and rudely creak as they dash off angry complaint letters to the People for the Ethical Treatment of Knees society. I make a mental note that at some point I should probably invest in some knee warmers for mornings like this. It’s in the 50s for the first time this trip. I imagine what it will be like later. In the Rockies. On I go. Leaving the allure of Summersville well behind me …

Day 29, The Canoe Day

Legs dotted with pink cream and the rest of me slathered with sunscreen for a sun that’s not awake, off into the early morning half-light I go. It’s not quite that time when light starts running down the dark to give it a wet willy, so my headlight is washing the road in front of my wheel to guide me. Roll on through, roll on. Oncoming headlights catch my eyes and my pupils shrink to a more petite size. So much traffic for this time of the morning. Does everyone have a 6am start? It’s certainly waking up my brain. …

Day 28: The Godot Day

The lawn is weeping with the dew and I screw up my nose as the fresh cut grass from yesterday sticks to my shoe. Walking around to the front of the jail, I try brush it off a little with the inside of my other shoe, then give up. “Bah! You’re touring,” I say to myself. “You should let yourself get dirty.” Parking Precious and Mr Zimmerman near the back stairs of Al’s Place in Farmington, I begin to slowly pack. To stretch out the time into a thin string of unwillingness to leave. I know I have to go. …

Day 26, The Misdirection Day

Flicking from gear to gear I hear…nothing. Precious has a new chain and it’s flawless in its movement. Silent. Smooth. Unmolested. I wonder how long it will last, the easy amble from cog to cog. No hesitation, no grind. How long until I panic on a hill and realize too late the gear is too big, the climb too angry, and begin my mash. Mash on down lower and apologize, apologize, always apologize to the bike. “Last time. Last time, I promise.” I hum along. The morning air fills my lungs with hope. This is going to be a long …