Crystallization

[ Day 0 – June 12, 2012 ]

In 2008, I rode my bicycle from Seattle to Boston with four friends from college. I have lots of fond memories from that trip, but one made a particularly strong impression:

It was late afternoon in a small North Dakota town. I was chatting with an old man outside a grocery store. He worked his way through the standard questions about the trip—the what, where, who, and why—before giving a slow nod of measured approval.

“I think it’s great what you boys are doing. I always wanted to take a trip across the country, but I never got around to it. Don’t suppose I ever will.”

He shifted his gaze out beyond the parking lot, lingering on the horizon before looking back at me.

“You enjoy your trip.”

This memory both reassures and haunts me: I wouldn’t regret the trip, but I’d soon be an old man with my own share of things not done and paths not taken.

This weighed heavy on my mind in early 2012. I was working in cleantech strategy consulting and decided I didn’t want a career in either the function or the industry. I was working hard and producing good results, but felt increasingly dissatisfied. At work, I’d catch myself staring out the windows for minutes at a time.  I’d watched seasons pass and countless birds fly by on secret business. The birds and seasons would return, but the time would not. I didn’t begrudge this; I was grateful for my time with the firm, but I wanted to leave with good feelings intact.

I wanted time off to travel, but also to reflect on where I’d been in life and where I wanted to go. By the time I gave notice to my employer, I’d decided on another bicycle trip. I wanted to complement my transcontinental tour with a ride from Canada to Mexico, but couldn’t decide whether to follow the coast or the mountains. I settled on a loop that would start and end in the Bay Area.

From the East Bay, I’d cross the Central Valley and pass over the Sierras at Yosemite National Park. I’d ride from Mono Lake to Lassen Peak, then onward to Crater Lake. I’d take a layover in Eugene, catching a few days of US Olympic Trials with my friend Nick before heading west to the coast and then south back to San Francisco. I made plans to catch up with a friend in Tahoe, ride Crater Lake with a buddy from college, and be back in the Bay in time to entertain friends visiting from Boston. I wouldn’t see Canada or Mexico, but I’d witness a mighty contrast in landscapes and avoid the hassle of traveling to and from endpoints.

The Route

I stayed up late on the final night before the trip, poring over maps for the first time, drawing and redrawing routes to a timeline anchored by various commitments. It was soon well past midnight, but I still hadn’t committed to leaving the next morning. In that respect, the trip fit the pattern of those before it, where finer pre-trip preparations were late to start and untidy to the very end. There was a lot behind this simple act of procrastination: a slight reluctance to begin the unfamiliar, a hedge against the rigidity of over-planning, and a thrill found only in the margin between resolve and action.

Having finally plotted a sensible path across the Central Valley, I fell asleep on the floor, surrounded by the cycling gear and camping equipment that would soon be part of an unwieldy but reliable touring rig.

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