June 30 – Aug 20, 2017
Thirty hours of travel and I arrived back home to Colorado, into the engulfing, spine adjusting, bear hug embrace of an old friend who absolutely would not take “No” for an answer when asked if I needed a ride from the airport. “Well, I won’t be the only person to ask you this, but at least I’ll be the first. How does it feel to be home?”, Sara inquired almost rhetorically, knowing what answer I would give her. She had been one of my most valiant supporters of my travels, telling me that “you’re great at ‘doing’ but you’re terrible at ‘being’. Breathe into it and see where life takes you.” I had been gone for the better part of 13 months and the term “home” just didn’t seem to register anymore. My home had been wherever I was pedaling at that moment, everything that I needed with me on my bike. Simple. Basic. I was a nomad. A wanderer, but never lost. Strange, but never a stranger. It is remarkable how far a smile, an open heart, and an open mind can carry you. We zoomed away from the airport, plowed into Denver traffic en route to Boulder. How does it feel to be back in this place that I once called home, seemingly a lifetime ago? Shocking, overwhelming, and more than a little disconnected.
I had been living simply, experiencing life not through the privileged eyes of an American tourist, but rather through the eyes of locals. Through their tremendous generosity, I had slept in their homes and shared their meals as we laughed at each other’s stories through a jumbled potpourri of their local language and mine. Looking back I often wonder, if the roles had been reversed, would I have been as open to welcoming a stranger into my house with the same offering or would my western societal norms and fears have prevented that? Perhaps another rhetorical question.
Through my travels, I met people that will be in my life forever and others if only for a blink, but all have shaped my world in ways previously unimaginable. Would I fall back into old patterns and habits? Or would I continue to see the world through new lenses, acquired over thousands of miles, countless mountain passes, and polished by never ending smiles?
Shortly after arriving back in Boulder, I received my first test. I made an appointment for a full body check up, to make sure some little parasite stowaways hadn’t latched on to my insides again like they did coming back from Madagascar. Don’t even get me started on the fun with giardia (that might be the name of my new medical travel book). On Tuesday morning at about 7 a.m., I was driving over some time sensitive products to Kaiser for their analysis. It was a typical, post card beautiful morning in Boulder, 70F, the sun glowing on the flatirons. All the windows were down and the sunroof open in my faithful 2006 Subaru, which had been patiently waiting 10 months to be driven again. As I approached the car park and was proceeding to make the left turn, a woman in her early 50’s, well dressed, carrying a grande sized coffee from Starbucks stepped into the cross walk, likely on her way to work. I smiled, made eye contact, and waived her through. To my surprise she stopped and waived me through. Curiously, I smiled, waived back, and proceeded to make my left turn into the Kaiser car park. “Asshole,” she mumbled calmly, purposely loud enough for me to hear, yet without any elevated volume, however still loud enough to make her point as so matter of fact. “Wait…what?” I stopped my car in mid turn. “What did I do? Why would you say that?” I inquired with utter dumbfoundedness. “You waived me through and I smiled?” I asked. “Do you know what it’s like to be hit by a car?” she fired back as she kept walking and grumbling under her breath. Actually I do, twice while on a bike, I thought to myself which is why I’m so conscious, but yet didn’t audibly reply. Maybe the “old me” would have jabbed something more sharp and poking back at her, an eye for an eye perhaps, but today, honestly I was just shocked. I felt like I was student in a sociology experiment with the observers sitting behind a 1 way mirror pondering how much I had learned while away. “How does it feel to be home?” This question will circulate in my mind continuously, my answers swirling unpredictably like that of a shaken Magic 8 ball. But in this moment…confused.
I spent the next few days in my house processing the avalanche of emotions that were churning and tumbling down at me. I decided to dig into boxes of clothes and other remnants of my prior life. My array of Banana Republic and Hugo Boss work clothes were still pressed and hanging in the plastic from the dry cleaners from more than 18 months ago. It seemed strangely opulent to wear something other than the same shirt, shorts, shoes, and yes…underwear, that I had worn every day for 13 months. My house, the place I had spent the better part of 5 years remodeling with blood, sweat, tears, and of course thousands of dollars, felt like a cold and barren shell of a home, my voice echoing and bouncing off polished oak and heated tile floors. By American standards and those of people in Boulder, my house is average, but by the rest of the world that I had been traveling in, it is a palace. How does it feel to be home?” In this moment…lonely and entitled.
After only a few days, I was suffocating and desperately needed to escape, back to the mountains where the air was thin but strangely I could breathe more freely. It was the July 4 holiday weekend and for some reason I had forgotten about the sheer insanity of traffic to the mountains. It was my first real experience driving a car in nearly 1 year and after 4 hours and several route changes, I had made it 35 miles from my house. There’s a saying, “You’re not stuck in traffic. You ARE traffic.” My dad used to tell me when I was young boy that the way to improve your patience is to choose the longest line in the grocery store. Challenge accepted. This clearly was the longest line I had ever seen. Strangely enough however, I felt calm, didn’t melt down, and simply sat in my car, inching forward at the rate of 10 feet per minute, simply wondering, “Why am I here, and how long will this new calm last?” How does it feel to be home?” In this moment…bewildered and trapped.
Meanwhile in Boulder, I have been renting my house while I have been away and the list of complaints that I have received makes me chuckle.
Q: I can’t get the TV to work. I followed the directions you listed.
A: Step 1 – Is it on channel 4?
Oh, got it. Thanks!
Q: You don’t have ESPN?
A: Sorry, I only have basic cable. Most people don’t come to Boulder to watch TV. Have you seen the trails literally out my back door? I have Fox News if that helps?
Q: You need a Weber grill. Your grill is shot, the burners aren’t strong enough and I had to cook steaks inside in the oven.
A: Hmmm…I’m a vegetarian, but I’m sorry you felt the burners weren’t strong enough. I cooked some zucchini on it last week and…well…it cooked.
Q: You need central air conditioning.
A: Well, its 68F with a slight drizzle, so maybe try opening the windows? But thanks. That’s great feedback
Q: Do you have an air mattress?
A: I have 2 king size beds, 1 queen, 3 couches. I may even have an old Thermarest camping pad rolled up in the laundry room. Jesus, man…how many people are staying there?
Q: The front door key doesn’t work and it looks like the lock is very old. I’m locked out of the house. All my things are inside. I can’t get in and will likely miss my flight. I called a locksmith and you owe him $400.
A: Umm…the front door lock is new and the key has been used a maximum of 30 times because I always enter through the garage…and sorry for the obvious question, but how did you get in if the key doesn’t work? Also, I’m not paying $400 for a locksmith to bail you out of your ineptitude.
How does it feel to be home? In this moment…what the fuck? Seriously?
The following week, my dad flew in from Michigan. All throughout my travels, he had been my biggest cheerleader, communicating with me weekly via text messages and video chats, bragging about me to all his friends, always reading my blog and commenting as if he was there with me, grunting through each pedal stroke and smiling with each new person I met. On his last night in Colorado, I invited a few close friends over that I had been missing for a year. What my dad didn’t know was that the true culmination was when the entire party sang happy birthday to him as a surprise, not unlike the way he always got the staff at Applebees or Olive Garden to sing and subsequently embarrass me as a kid for my birthday growing up in Michigan. And he thought I didn’t learn anything from him as a kid. Gotcha dad…and it feels sooooo good. How does it feel to be home? In this moment…like home.
Floating down the river in Carbondale, with Drew and family. Mt. Sopris towering over
Remember me? Holiday mountain traffic. Breathe….
July 4 fireworks in Breckenridge
‘merica
Gracie, who apparently loves Stevie Wonder…but then, who doesn’t?
McClure Pass
Finding myself again on McClure Pass outside of Carbondale
My dad the bird whisperer
7 a.m. Team Kopack Boot Camp. 84 never looked so good
Glad this guy made it to CO
Definitely missed little bro and big Jer
Hiking in Indian Peaks wilderness with Trish
Literally out my back door
Donating a bunch of unused bike parts to Community Cycles. Great organization
Riding in Summit County with Ebeth. Can I get a “Hell yeah!”
Getting high with Scott before dropping into Montezuma
Riding in Steamboat Springs with Steve never disappoints
Monarch Crest with Hannah, Charlie, and Simon
Hannah being Hannah on Monarch Crest
Simon from Canada getting a dose of altitude on Monarch Crest
Sam coming over French Pass in Breckenridge
After bike packing for 1 year, I’m back in ‘merica
Dinner with Jeff and family in Durango. Got room for 1 more?
Ice Lake outside of Silverton with Tom
What do you call it when the sky is the same color as the water? Ice Lake outside of Silverton
Bikepacking the Colorado Trail with Tom
Camping in the shadows of Engineer Mtn, segment 26 of the Colorado Trail
Climbing Engineer Mtn with Tom
Bikepacking the Colorado Trail, segment 26
Exploding wildflowers on the Colorado Trail, segment 27
THAT WAS REALLY ENTERTAINING, GLAD YOU ARE BACK…READY FOR THE NEXT PAGE-CHAPTER….BARB