The Last Stretch

I grabbed the key out of its hidden spot, walked up to the door and unlocked it with a simple turn. The door slowly opened and I took a peak inside. "Yeah," I thought to myself, "I was here a bit over 2 months ago." I took a step forward and yelled to see if anyone was home. Out of one of the bedrooms, a voice replied, and seconds later PJ, my new roommate, walked into the hallway to greet me.


I arrived in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania last evening. Flying out of San Francisco, it took about 5 hours to cover 3500 miles by plane, a distance that had taken me 2 months to complete by bike. As I was sitting on the airplane, looking outside the window, I couldn't help but think about all the memories I had accumulated over the last 8 weeks. From atop the clouds, I observed the entire continent move below like a film playing slowly in reverse. I saw the desert of Nevada, followed by the vivid red canyons of Utah. Then the Rocky Mountains of Colorado presented themselves in all their glory and finally it was all flat land. Patches of farmland and trees were all that were visible across the horizon and I felt that I was nearing the end of the flight, the end of an amazing experience and the beginning of something uncertain.

The last 48 hours have been filled with anticipation and emotion. To begin, we left Berkeley shortly before noon and headed towards the Oakland pier where a ferry was waiting to take us across the bay. Getting our bikes onto the ferry was a piece of cake and crossing the water took less than half an hour. According to our map, the last stretch of the trip would have us ride toward the Golden Gate Bridge - San Francisco's historical landmark. What a great destination point! But we weren't in any rush to get there yet. On our way we first visited Pier 39, a big tourist attraction, filled with lots of shops. There we emptied our wallets on salt water taffy and chocolate fudge. Next, we walked along the bay and took time to observe the sailboats that were anchored to the dock. There were hundreds of them. Big sailboats and small ones. Some with white sails and others green and navy blue. My favorite one was a sky blue boat with wooden edge framing. It had white sails and was the size of about 35 feet, just big enough for 2-3 people to comfortably live on (it would be awesome to build a boat one day, or if not, at least learn how to sail properly and get out into the ocean. Perhaps on another lenghty trip... ) After a few hours perusing, we slowly made our way west toward the bridge. The wind got stronger, as we rode along the bay, and I started to get a bit chilly. Out in the distance, we saw fog pooling in from all directions. Our first view of our target destination was hardly recognizable. The fog covered up most of the bridge, making it look like a gigantic haze over a busy road. This was not exactly what we had pictured of sunny California. Nonetheless, we continued biking closer and over the bridge. Since we were sharing the walkway with pedestrians, our path was crowded and slow going.  It was hard to move anywhere, if at all. At midpoint, we stopped. This was it. We were finished. We had just completed a trip that had taken us from the steps of my apartment in Washington D.C. to the middle of this grandiose architecture on the other side of the country. An epic moment that didn't feel like it at all. No, in actuality, I was ready to do more, to go further yet and see even more things.

We spent the next day and a half touring SF and eating some amazing food (home cooked and restaurant style!) It was definitely nice being around old friends and staying put for a few days. At the same time, I did not feel ready to settle down again. There is something tragically ironic about doing an adventure of this kind. Having absolutely zero responsibility or committments and all the freedom possibly imaginable, you never want convert back to your old way of living. On an open-ended journey as this, you start to see things from a different perspective. Your eyes are open to appreciate the cultures and life-styles of others. You learn about their daily plights, as well as their most cherished moments. You first-handedly observe how the environment and its dynamic changes affects everyone on different scales and how it shapes the topography for future generations. Riding on a bicycle you fully expose yourself to the elements of your surroundings and you become an extension of nature. You know that the sun has set, not just because it's getting dark outside, but because the temperature is quickly dropping and you are starting not to feel your fingers anymore. You know that the wind is blowing at a minimum of 15 mph against you, because you are working hard and not moving anywhere. You become aware of every little change and more amazingly, you learn how to roll with it. We dealt with whatever came along our way, using whatever tools we had with us, some common sense and the help of kind strangers. Our journey was greatly shaped by the people that crossed our paths and the immediate trust we build upon a fleeting moment. It never ceased to amaze me how trustworthy people were. How they invited us into their lives, ate with us at the same table and how they shared moments dear to them. I feel that I have gained some insight of how the land and its inhabitants function. And yet, this very same insight makes me feel estranged from my peers, who can't fathom what a journey of this sort entails. Sharing these thoughts with other adventure riders I have met along the way, the consensus seems to be that you have to have been there and done it yourself to fully understand the beauty of such an adventure. No matter how much I tried to spell out in words using this blog, I was in no way able to fully capture the events as they really occured. That said, I encourage anyone and everyone to embark on whatever ambitious dream they have been waiting for. There are definitely remarkable things happening in this world, but you have to take the first step outside your home to go and see it.

My journey has come to an end, I am sad to admitt. I am back on the east coast, sitting in a comfortable chair and typing away. My thoughts still long to be traveling on my bike, indefinitely, and it will likely take a few days to adjust to a new life-style again. Nonetheless, I am looking forward to find out what is waiting for me in grad school (besides homework and exams.) It will be a time of learning and growing (bla bla bla.) But I know this won't be the last journey of this type. There is so much more to see and this may have just been the first of many trips. Gracias to everyone for tuning in to my blog and for leaving all these fun comments. Yes, I absolutely did read the comments and smiled while on road. As I slowly settle back into a steady groove over the next few days, I will also try to fill more of the blanks with some entries (that is, if you guys are interested.) There are tons of stories which were already prewritten in my head, but never made it to the screen due to time constraints and such. I also have a ton of wonderful pictures that may be able to demonstrate what we saw. And whoever may be interested in doing this journey themselves, feel free to ask me questions. There are definitely certain things worth knowing that may make this trip a bit more comfortable, though ultimately, you will discover most of it as you go.

Auf wiedersehen!