September 25, 2016 – Sun, 75 degrees
Miles Today: 79
Miles to Date: 16,957
States to Date: 45
First came 36 gorgeous miles along US 24 West, out of sight and mind of the Interstate. Then, 24 merged with I-70 and the pavement ended. I pounded 31 miles of gravel.
My head bobbled long after I got to Limon. Question is, after a solid sleep will I be able to overcome the human propensity to dwell on the negative, or will I be able to retrieve the sweet meditation of those first gentle miles?
Will snatched the 2002 issue of Klipspringer’s Magazine that rated all the states in terms of their tax burden on retirees from his coffee table to demonstrate how he chose to move to South Carolina after retiring from IBM in Essex Junction VT. After fourteen years, he keeps it handy. “More than fifty percent of my retirement income went to taxes in Vermont. I had to leave.” He bought five acres with a house near Walterboro. A few years later, his long-term friend and frequent housemate Cliff retired from Grand Union. They decided to buy a place together, moving upcountry toward Aiken to put more distance between home and hurricanes.
South Carolina is a traditionally low-tax state with a warm climate that provides additional tax breaks for retirees and veterans. Military people retire here in droves.
Cliff and Will, in their seventies, spent their entire careers in Vermont. During the 970’s and 1980’s Cliff was in the vanguard of creating a ‘visible’ social life for gay Vermonters. “We put on a New Year’s Eve party at the Sheraton in Burlington. Within a few years, it was the best party in town.” Many of those activities have disappeared in the age of social media. Will always worked third shift so he could enjoy the outdoors, but the winters got hard.
In South Carolina they have a mix of gay and straight friends. “Churches are everywhere here, but they don’t mean a thing. Everyone knows everyone else and everybody is nice to everybody. Most people think we’re partners, even though we’re not.”
They also have physical comfort and material wealth well beyond what they could afford in the Northeast; a 2500 square foot house on five acres with outbuildings for Cliff’s leaded glass shop and Will’s gardening as well as walking paths through their private woods. The entire place is festooned with ornaments they’ve collected over decades of travel. We took a twilight walk and heard stories behind decorative object that could fill galleries.
Will’s time is fully engaged in maintaining and improving their property. Besides his regular leaded glass commissions, Cliff also works part time, teaching medical students in Augusta interview and exam techniques. He is appalled at the careless way most medical staff take blood pressure. Putting the cuff over clothing, misaligning the meter, overpumping the balloon, asking questions while doing the test, are all factors that can elevate blood pressure readings. Cliff and Will each check their own blood pressure at home, and have consistent data that’s allowed them to wean off their blood pressure medicine. “Millions of people are on high blood medication that don’t have to be. That’s why the US is fifteenth in healthcare in the world but first in cost.”
How will we live tomorrow?
“I guess no different than I did today. I’m pretty happy doing what I do.” – Cliff
“I’ll keep doing what I’m doing. Not much changes for me. I weigh the same I did forty years ago. When I was in Walterboro people came to my house with church pamphlets. I told them not to bother; I wasn’t going to change my ways.
“Wait a minute. There’s a trick here. The question is ‘we’, not ‘you.
“Hmmmm, I don’t think that changes my answer.” – Will
September 24, 2016 – Sun, 75 degrees
Miles Today: 70
Miles to Date: 16,878
States to Date: 45
Whoa, guy. Haven’t I already been in Colorado? Don’t have I only three states left? Shouldn’t I start skedaddling home?
Although I plan to cycle in all 48 contiguous states, my agenda is more complex. There are people and places I want to see that just can’t get covered in one pass. So, I am returning to Colorado with the objective of visiting my sister and brother in Denver, and then my nephew in Pueblo. From there, I plan to tour the juicy parts of New Mexico I missed in round one – Taos, Santa Fe, and Albuquerque. I hope to spin across the plains one last time to visit Levelland, Texas, my home from VISTA days. In about a thousand miles I will resume counting states when I enter Oklahoma.
Not all who wander are lost; I have become an expert wanderer.
Hail, mail, bail and jail. The four corners of the law come together at Charleston’s historical center, the intersection of Meeting and Broad. Simply cross the street at St. Michael’s church to the main Post office, the US Courthouse, the Probate Court, and City Hall. It’s not an intersection that’s been particularly kind to Charleston’s African-American citizens, but these days Donald Scott, Gullah basket weaver, owns the real estate. You can find him there on Tuesdays through Sunday weaving tight baskets and trinkets with sweetgrass, bullrush and long pine needles. He also makes palmetto roses and crucifixes.
Donald explained the weaving process and showed off his most challenging wares. “Oval baskets are the most difficult. You have to hold the length tight when you make the bend. Keep it tight until you have a dozen or more bends.” Most of his items are much smaller; key chains and bells and small bowls that sell for under $50. His most elaborate item is a basket with elephant ear feet and a huge handle. He asks $775 for that. A lot for a street merchant, but less than half what a similar basket fetches at the Charleston Preservation Society store a few blocks away.
I asked Donald what the city required in rent or permits to set up shop at this historic corner. “Nothing. They want me here. I am part of Charleston’s heritage.”
When he’s not weaving Donald drives a school bus in North Charleston, where he lives.
Charles made me a gift of a Gullah woven keychain to which I added my sole key and hung around my neck. I’ll take a bit of the sea islands with me as I head west.
How will we live tomorrow?
“Only way I now to live tomorrow is through Christ. I have plans to be there. I have given my heart to the Lord.”
September 23, 2016 – Sun, 85 degrees
Miles Today: 66
Miles to Date: 16,808
States to Date: 45
I love the Plains. They teach you not to take anything for granted. When you think the world is flat, it gets flatter. When you think the world is windy, it gets windier. Even when the wind is with you, there is so much of it that you have to ride full grip. You sail with the gust and then, the gust disappears and you wobble.
In theory, I had an easy day. Southerly crosswinds that often allowed me to tack to advantage. I happened by Cobblestone Ranch, which former state archeologist Don Rowlinson has taken on as a personal project. He gave me a great tour and told stores of the English immigrants who raised sheep in this area. We could have talked into the afternoon except that I had miles to go to Hoxie for lunch. I found JD’s, the local hangout, packed for Friday lunch: salad bar and potato bar with chili and all sorts of extras, but not much conversation. People don’t talk with strangers when a place is buzzing.
Thirty-five miles to Colby on a full belly seemed a fine way to pass the afternoon. The forecast called for a cold front with rain overnight, but there was no sign of it in the cloudless sky. Still, the wind knew something was brewing. Despite an adequate shoulder and good pavement, I fought to keep Tom steady against the tailwinds of the grain trucks that passed in my direction, their comrades head blasts when they roared east, and the gusts topping thirty miles an hour that hit me from the south, or southeast, or southwest, or whatever direction confused things the most.
At one point a string of trucks jangled me, so I stopped for a break. I stilled myself. Back in the saddle I got better at gauging my weight against the wind. Three miles outside of town the highway dipped through a gully where the gale was so strong I leaned Tom at least thirty degrees into the blast. The kind of day I am so glad I ride a Surly.
I arrived in town shortly after four and took a room at the first basic motel I passed. I had made good time, but I was wiped. I just wanted to be out of the wind.
Deb Younger lives up to her name. Age is irrelevant in her approach to life. For years, Deb travelled the world. Then she became interested in health and medicine. She got a nursing degree in New York, became a PA at University of Washington, got an MPH in Hawaii and MD in England. Somewhere in there, at age 39, she had two children. She moved to Charleston in 1987 for a residency in family medicine and has lived here ever since.
For the past 26 years, Deb has been an ED physician. “A lot of what I do is social work. I always ask about their home life. Some of my peers order lots of tests and make more money. I want to talk to patients. If they’ve had a dozen CT’s that don’t reveal anything, why order another one? They don’t need that radiation. How you get treated in the ED depends on who you get assigned to.”
Deb believes there are critical health needs in South Carolina. She helped to create the first EMS service in Douglas County. “I couldn’t believe that there were parts of the United States where you couldn’t dial 911 for help.”
But raising two children as a single mom in Charleston has been difficult. The public schools were a challenge. She sent her children to private schools. However, she didn’t like the social aspects that accompanied such privilege, so she took her children on summer volunteer programs in Peru and Africa. “Travelling is education in itself.”
At this time, both of here children are grown and educated. “I just finished paying for my children’s education – I wanted both of them to get through college debt free. I don’t have a retirement plan. I’d like to stop working at 70 and join the Peace Corps, but I’m 68 and 70 is coming up fast. I’ll probably have to work until 75 and then take my skills abroad.”
Deb Younger doesn’t even wince at the thought of working ten years beyond when most people retire and then applying her skills in arenas that might prove even more challenging. She loves what she does, and age is no barrier.
How will we live tomorrow?
“We’ll keep doing whatever works for us and change whatever doesn’t. You can say that about every individual and humanity as a whole.
“I am optimistic. If things are going well we are content with how things are. If not, we are capable of finding solutions. Implementing them is hard but I have faith in the human race will find a way.”
September 22, 2016 – Sun, 95 degrees
Miles Today: 83
Miles to Date: 16,742
States to Date: 45
There is a moment in the morning when the sun, flat across the top of the grass, rises a notch and floods the landscape with brilliant light.
This area is known as Post Rock. Early settlers mined limestone, broke it across the weak shear plane, then drilled a line of holes through the slab and broke it into fence posts. There are few trees here today, but there were none when the homesteaders arrived.
Before harvest the sunflowers are too heavy to trace the sun. They bow, seed-laden, to the east.
Every Kansas town touts its athletic prowess. I have not seen comparable academic pride.
Acadians settled Damar, KS and built St. Joseph’s Church, which towers above the prairie. The text of the prayer, ‘Hail Mary’ is on a series of small signs along the highway before you enter town.
Western Hills Motel in Hill City is one of the last, great roadside motels. To my reckoning, only three guys in pick-ups and one cyclist stayed here on this Thursday night. At $40 a room, the place may not be long for a world where chains rule. However, Las Canteras Mexican Grill down US 24 was packed, and for good reason. Best carnitas I’ve ever tasted.
How will we live tomorrow?
“I’m going to be one of your problem children. I spent most of my life thinking about tomorrow. Now that my daughter is gone and I have my diagnosis, I don’t think about it.”
Lynn Battle, accountant, Birmingham, AL
How will we live tomorrow?
“Keep doing what we’re doing.”
Shelley Douglass, Mary’s House, Birmingham, AL
How will we live tomorrow?
“You question happens to be essentially the same as the fourth question in a series of questions often asked by Ravi Zacharias, one of my favorite philosophers. As Ravi puts it, God has put it in the heart of every man to ask himself and attempt to answer for himself, four essential questions, which have to do with origin, meaning, morality & destiny. Where do we come from? Why are we here? What determines right & wrong? Where am I going?”
Richard Richard, spiritualist, Birmingham, AL
How will we live tomorrow?
“I’m going to be working. Electrical and heating and cooling.”
Jake, van driver, Birmingham, AL
How will we live tomorrow?
“Hopefully by reaching a point where we realize we are in this chaos together, for better or worse.
“If we can’t find honest, sincere people to manage this nation we are doomed to fail and those that follow will be also.
“You can’t take it with you, and no amount of planning can really determine completely what tomorrow may bring.
‘”Opportunities are like sunrises,
You wait too long and they are gone.’”
Hal Starkey, architect, Birmingham, AL
How will we live tomorrow?
“I hope we’re going to be okay. I’m an all-natural person. I have citronella plants to keep mosquitoes away. I try to use no chemicals and do no harm.”
Ann Riley, artist, Bell Buckle, TN
How will we live tomorrow?
“I’m going for the third party candidate. The world needs a change. Then, I’m going to have some champagne.”
Martha, restaurant owner, Bell Buckle, TN
How will we live tomorrow?
“Hopefully, better than today, right?”
Wes, grandfather, Bell Buckle, TN
How will we live tomorrow?
“I have no idea how we will live tomorrow. I will live my today. Though your question does make me think about technology.”
Zach, optimistic Cubs fan, Bell Buckle, TN
How will we live tomorrow?
“There’s got to be some changes.”
Virginia Brown, Wal-Mart shopper, Fayetteville, TN
How will we live tomorrow?
“I get excited when I think about whiskey.”
Lauren, Tour guide at Jack Daniel’s Distillery, Lynchburg, TN
How will we live tomorrow?
“For me, allowing me to be present in anything I am doing.”
Tamika, PhD. candidate in Sociology, studying the effects of meditation on prisoners, Nashville, TN
How will we live tomorrow?
“I’m going to live mindfully.”
Layla, PhD. candidate in Sociology, studying changes people getting married, Nashville, TN
How will we live tomorrow?
“It’s a thought provoking question It’s vague. Do you mean how we hope to live tomorrow? I just want to be happy.”
Ashley, hostess, Pinewood Social, Nashville, TN
How will we live tomorrow?
“Tomorrow I will be serving breakfast.”
James, waiter, Pinewood Social, Nashville, TN
How will we live tomorrow?
“The way I see it, God is good all the time and we are His children. This land belonged to the Indians; they took care of it. Now we are here and making a mess of it. I could tell you the story of my life. We don’t know who God is; anyone of us could be God. That’s the blessing that I met you.”
Victor Davis, walker, Nashville, TN
How will we live tomorrow?
“By the grace of God.”
Dave Hardin, Biker’s Choice, Hendersonville, TN
How will we live tomorrow?
“I watch Free Speech on television It gives you a different perspective on the news and our government.”
David, man of the Sixties, Bowling Green, KY
How will we live tomorrow?
“That’s a very interesting question.”
Amber, Grayson County Librarian, Leitchfield KY
How will we live tomorrow?
“I am thinking of how we will take care of our planet. I am thinking about health. It may be yoga or eating right.”
Lauren, Social Impact Alliance, Nashville, TN
September 21, 2016 – Cloudy, 90 degrees
Miles Today: 56
Miles to Date: 16,659
States to Date: 45
I am like an eight-year-old. I ride my bike all day and sleep like a baby all night. After ten solid hours in the sack I woke to full daylight. My home-schooling hosts were still snoozing when I got on the road at 8:30 a.m. I figured, no problem starting late on a short riding day. But the wind had picked up; its angle less benign, and there was no coffee or breakfast to be found in Bennington.
I pedaled for 32 miles along Highway 18 weary, despite two snack breaks, until I reached Lincoln and discovered the Sunrise Cafe. Today’s special: meatloaf, creamed peas, baked potato, salad bar, roll and peach cobbler, plus coffee for $8.25. Excellent conversation with local customers and a snappy waitress came free of charge.
Real food in my belly and caffeine in my veins blunted the wind on my cheeks. I arrived at Lucas, Grassroots Arts Capital and one of Kansas’ 8 Wonders of Art, in plenty of time for a full tour of the Garden of Eden. I also got see, and use, the world’s most fantastic public toilet. Kansas proclaims ‘Wonders’ of all kinds, and Lucas is plenty neat, but grassroots art can’t stop the place from hemorrhaging a slow death. Having a gorgeous mosaic public bathroom is nifty, but when the only grocery in town is shuttered, that’s a real problem for a town 25 miles from anywhere.
There are no motels in Lucas. I had called a listing for Thacker’s Cottages looking for a place to stay. Mr. Thacker explained that he rents cottages by the week or month. Then he offered, ‘How much do you usually pay?’ I said “$50.” He replied, ‘Stop by, we’ll fix you up.”
Three blocks west of the public toilet, Mr. Thacker owns a couple of houses on the border of town. His dog barked before I even pressed the bell. He took me to a house next door. The place sleeps five, has a full kitchen and dining table big enough for Thanksgiving. It was clean; all the beds fitted; the AC already on. He’d stocked the fridge with water and Gatorade. “Don’t drink the tap water; it’s got too much lime.”
He told me his litany of seven back surgeries, how he had to give up horseback riding; how he’d swallowed a mosquito and got West Nile Virus, how he was luckier than the guy who lived in Mr. Thacker’s trailer around the corner for free. “When I was a fool teenager the jack slipped from a car I was under. My chest was crushed; I couldn’t even holler. He pulled the car off me; must have been the adrenaline let him do it. He saved my life. Now that’s he’s feeble, I owe him.”
After a good amount of visiting, I surmised that Mr. Thacker wasn’t actually going to charge me to be his neighbor for the night. So I suggested we settle up and gave him $50 in cash. Half an hour later, I got a knock on the door. He brought me a taco salad and saltines for dinner.
September 20, 2016 – Sun, 95 degrees
Miles Today: 70
Miles to Date: 16,603
States to Date: 45
Bicycle route challenges crop up in the oddest places. Google Maps showed me a great route from Manhattan to Abilene, but my hosts cautioned that it went through Fort Riley, where bicycles are not allowed. They helped me map another route, complicated by rivers and dirt roads and limited access highways. Kansas limits bicycle access more than any state I’ve visited; not just Interstates but certain US Highways as well.
Fourteen miles out I encountered a ‘Bicycles Prohibited’ sign. While I was checking alternatives on my phone, a guy in a pick-up hauling a boat stopped to check his hitch and offered me a ride past the restriction. Such is the luck of my journey.
Back in bicycle friendly territory, Old US 40 through Chapman to Abilene proved a great route. Navigating Abilene proper was less easy; there are railroad tracks everywhere and an oil tanker train decided to sit astride several for half an hour.
Eisenhower’s Presidential Library and Museum is misnamed. It’s a laborious, dark, text-dense labyrinth about World War II with a postscript about Mamie’s style and a few displays about 50’s prosperity. The museum doesn’t even contain a recreation of the Oval Office, which I’ve come to appreciate as a reflection of a President’s personality. One display, however, was super-cool: a model of how the Allies linked barges to offload trucks and supplies for the Normandy Invasion.
New rule of bicycle touring: never try to repair a flat at a McDonald’s. I finished my writing break with enough time to pedal 27 miles to Bennington only to find my front tire flat. Very odd, as front tires almost never go flat. I suspected a local prankster or the gravel road I used to skirt the oil train. Whatever the cause, my trauma attracted Abilenians like flies, all keen with advice and their own bicycle stories. I finally had to move Tom away from the golden arches to focus on the problem.
Eventually, flat fixed and wind coming up from my left flank; I sailed across Kansas Highway 18 to Bennington, through wide countryside and gentle swales. I reached my host’s home in time for a delicious dinner and libertarian discourse. Kansas is not just a red state. Utter the two words ‘federal government’ in sequence and some people thirst to draw blood.
How Will We Live Tomorrow? 