Animals have a pretty tough life, but at least they don’t have to explain why they are “trespassing” in the forest. If I should ever need to justify my presence in one of our national forests, I imagine myself telling the ranger, “But, I am also a forest creature!” I don’t think that explanation would pass muster, though!
There is just no doubt about it, humans are a special case, exhibiting some of the worst, as well as some of the best behavior in the animal kingdom. That is is why I haven’t included any humans in the preceding chapter, “Nature.” That would be disrespectful. Some might even say their presence would sully “Nature.” No, they definitely need their own separate chapter. Here are some of the interesting, inspiring people I have met on my bicycle journey.
Larry Baggett
The first year of my bicycle journey was very challenging. Various mechanical problems seemed to occur on a near daily basis. As I approached Sandpoint, Idaho, I had two mechanical issues that needed immediate attention. The front of my Burley Nomad trailer had sagged to such a degree it was barely clearing the ground. I needed a new bicycle trailer. I also needed to buy new rims for my bicycle. My vintage bicycle had 27 inch rims. I had very little choice in the way of tires. I felt lucky if a bicycle shop even carried 27 inch tires. If they did carry that size, they were invariably very low quality, inexpensive tires. Most bicycle shops simply rolled their eyes at the sight of my vintage road bike. I needed an experienced bicycle mechanic to order 700 cm rims and build new wheels for my bicycle using my original hubs.
I had spoken to some cyclists along the way and they seemed to agree that Sandpoint was a great town for cycling and had three or four bicycle shops. I also consulted my Adventure Cycling maps. The map which included Sandpoint listed several bike shops. I picked a shop called Competitive Instincts. The name of the shop suggested it would likely be an excellent shop catering to competitive cyclists.
Riding into Sandpoint, I stopped a local cyclist who was riding a nice triathlon bicycle and asked for directions to Competitive Instincts. She gave me directions and explained that the shop was basically a temporary building in the parking lot of the magnet school. Her description of the shop was intriguing. As I turned to go, she said, “Oh, one more thing, you’ll love Larry!” As it turned out, she was absolutely right!
All across America, if I mention some mechanical problem I am having to a local cyclist, they almost always have a favorite bicycle mechanic who they consider to be an absolute savant regarding anything to do with bicycles. With absolute confidence they announce that all I need to do is ask “Joe” or “Mike” or “Bob” or whoever and they will immediately resolve my problem. The part that is so heartwarming is the absolute confidence they have in their mechanic. I am happy to report that this confidence is almost never misplaced. It always turns out that the recommended mechanic knows more than you could ever imagine about bicycles and I am soon on my way. I consider this to be one of the great things about America. After all, the Wright brothers were bicycle mechanics and they invented the airplane!
Larry greeted me with a very cordial smile. Carefully looking over my vintage Italian road bike, he said, “They don’t make them like this anymore!” He looked like he was absolutely delighted with my bicycle. I already loved him! We were talking in the shade next to his little building. Walking into his shop, I couldn’t help but notice his beautiful vintage bicycle, in pristine condition, hanging from the ceiling. Larry explained that he considered the seventies and eighties to be the “Golden Age” of cycling. What a beautiful phrase! I loved him even more!
Larry was a small, wiry man with a twinkle in his eye. He told me that I should make myself at home in his parking lot, that I could use the shop address to order a new bicycle trailer, and that I could use the wheels from his vintage bicycle while he was building new wheels for my vintage bicycle. I was deeply touched by that last point in particular. He trusted me with his beautiful Campagnolo hubs and Mavic Open Pro rims! Larry wasn’t just a skilled mechanic he was a bicycle angel!
Over the next two weeks, my new Kwik-Pak trailer arrived, Larry ordered Mavic Open Pro rims for my bicycle, and Larry and I chatted in the shade next to his shop. We even went out for lunch a couple of times. I got to know Larry. He had raced. He knew Lance Armstrong from training together at the Olympic training facilities in Colorado Springs, Colorado. Above all, he loved everything about bicycles. I might even go so far as to say that he loved bicycles even more than I do! I know that is hard to believe, but it was true! I have always valued enthusiasm above almost all human traits and Larry was incredibly enthusiastic about anything and everything concerning bicycles!
I was especially touched that Larry had volunteered to teach a course in bicycle repair at the magnet school. What a great idea! Even just changing a tire would teach budding bicycle mechanics to focus, to proceed step-by-step, to fail, to try again, to experience humility, to experience cause and effect, and to develop character and true grit. Honestly, I can’t think of anything more likely to change the world than teaching junior high students how to repair bicycles!
I have two children of whom I am very proud. Larry told me his daughter was working in Africa on infrastructure projects. I could see how proud he was that she was working to make the world a better place. Once again, this warmed my heart. I just absolutely love it when parents express pride in their children!
With my new trailer and my new, perfectly built bicycle wheels, I was finally ready to leave Sandpoint and continue on my journey. I thanked Larry for all his help and promised to stop and visit the following year. As the next few months unfolded, I noticed that I would frequently say to my self, “I need to tell Larry about this!”
I was in Marathon, Texas near Big Bend National Park when I met two young ladies. One was attending Texas State University in San Marcos, Texas. The other was taking time off from school to pursue photography. They had decided to take a spur of the moment car trip to Big Bend National Park. I mentioned the beautiful River Road from Presidio to Terlingua and suggested they check it out.
Just a few days before meeting these young ladies, I had come up with the idea that the picture of Robert Johnson on the cover of the album “Robert Johnson: The Complete Recordings” is just as powerful as the famous picture of Walt Whitman in “Leaves of Grass.” I mentioned this idea to my new friends and told them about my writing project. Immediately, the young woman who was pursuing photography wanted me to pose next to my bicycle with one hand on my hip and one hand in my jacket pocket, exactly like the picture of Walt Whitman, so she could take my picture. As she took my picture, I thought to myself, “This is one of those moments I will never forget!” After the picture taking was finished, the subject of finances came up. A lot of travelers, I have noticed, talk about financing their trips. I mentioned that I had come full circle. For many years, I had supported my children. Now the roles were reversed because I had asked my daughter for financial help several times on my journey. This idea was deeply moving to the young woman who had taken my photograph. In the most heartfelt way imaginable, she said that she hoped to do the same for her father someday!
Remembering how proud Larry was of his daughter, I resolved to tell him the story of meeting these two young ladies. Unfortunately, I never had an opportunity to tell Larry this story. While I was in another bicycle shop in Sandpoint the following year, I was informed that Larry had passed away. This news hit me very hard. I am very grateful for the time I spent in Larry’s company, and I often think about how he loved bicycles even more than I do!
Indian Mike
I was kneeling down next to my bicycle trailer outside a hardware store. I was installing two new bolts I had just purchased. I replace the bolts that secure My Kwik-Pak trailer’s draw arm every six months to make sure they won’t break in the middle of nowhere. I keep the old bolts for backup. Behind me, I suddenly heard a deep, resonant voice say, “Wow, do you mind if I take a look at your bicycle trailer?” Now, if you want to get on my good side, all you really have to do is ask a question about my bike trailer!
Mike was an older gentleman. I would guess he was about sixty. He had long, wispy, silver hair, a lanky frame, a big Adam’s apple, and the bluest eyes I have ever seen. He was carrying a heavy backpack and looked like he had been on the road for a while. He asked a bunch of sharp questions about my trailer. He told me he had been thinking about buying a bicycle at Walmart and also buying a trailer for all the gear in his backpack. Naturally, I responded that I thought that was a splendid idea. I explained how I locked the trailer to my bicycle and was then free to walk around town without having to carry a heavy pack. One of the most pressing problems homeless people face is how to secure their possessions. I had deduced that Mike was homeless based on the story he told me.
The story he told me was that he had been married to a Native American woman for many years. They lived in housing on a reservation. He explained that she had died recently and that since he was not Native American he was not eligible to continue living on the reservation. Mike seemed very intelligent. He knew everything imaginable about various government and private charities in the area. He invited me to eat lunch with him at the Mission. He said lunch was free and that they had delicious food. I believe in saying “Yes,” if possible, to any and all invitations. It is a bad idea, in my opinion, to put up any road blocks when the world seems to be suggesting that you set sail in a new direction. To be honest, I had never really spent any time with homeless people and I thought I might learn something.
I locked my bicycle and Mike and I walked to the Mission which was nearby. The Mission was part of a church and there were about a dozen hungry folks of all different persuasions gathered in the dining room. The lunch was terrific. It included beef barley soup, tuna sandwiches, and lemon cake for dessert. I asked if I could have seconds and the church folks said sure. Everyone noticed I had a terrific appetite because of the enthusiastic way I lapped up my soup. I told everyone about my bicycle trip so they would understand why I needed three bowls of soup! Everyone wanted to know about my trip. What a nice group of people! I filled them in on all the details!
Somehow the subject of stealth camping came up and the conversation really picked up steam. What an amazing bunch of experienced, well seasoned stealth campers! I noticed that everyone really respected Mike. They called him Indian Mike. It was sort of a joke because with his blue eyes, white skin, and silver hair, he was probably the least Indian looking person I have ever seen. I never felt comfortable calling him Indian Mike and simply called him Mike. He could really hold a room with his resonant voice and quick wit. When I asked if anyone knew why there were so many rules against camping, Mike was quick to answer that it was the result of the influence of the hotel-motel “cartel.” It appeared that years of homelessness had failed to dull what appeared to be a keen, analytical mind! He seemed to think I was unbelievably naive because I had failed to recognize the general corruption that explained how the world really operated. He was probably right about that. In general, I tend away from dark conspiracy theories.
The room broke into groups. A fair number of people had recently been released from prison. Some of them had known each other for years. The prison conversation was a bit sad, so I chilled with a nice young couple who wanted to hear more about my bicycle trip around America. We enjoyed the delicious cake and several cups of coffee. Somehow the subject of rumble strips along the edges of highways came up. I mentioned how violent some of the rumble strips are. “Some of those rumble strips could rip the tires off a tractor trailer! I wonder why they make them so deep?”
Mike overheard my question and walked over to our table. Shaking his head sadly as if he doubted if anything could ever wise me up, he put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Wheel alignment shop cartel!” I felt embarrassed that so much about the way the world really works had escaped my attention. I was really glad Mike had invited me to the Mission for lunch. Great food, great company, and a surprising new way to look at the world. What more could I ask for?
Panhandling School
“The law, in its majestic equality, forbids rich and poor alike to sleep
under bridges, to beg on the streets, and to steal their bread.”
Anatoly France
One afternoon, a few weeks after meeting Indian Mike, I was pedaling along the Oregon coast. The cloudy sky was occasionally spitting a few rain drops. I was keeping an eye out for a camping spot. Every so often I would see the greatest spot you could ever imagine. Nice grass and an ocean view. That’s the kind of spot where they always put a “No Overnight Camping” sign. Sure enough, there the sign was. The sign reminded me about what Mike had said about the hotel-motel “cartel.” Apparently, the “cartel” was hard at work along the Oregon coast! Then I saw a sign directing me toward a state campground. Why not spend the night there? With rain threatening, it seemed like a good idea.
The state campground was very small but very nice. The tent area was only about fifty feet square. There were about four or five tents and a picnic table at one end. The group gathered at the picnic table seemed like a happy bunch so, after setting up my tent, I decided to join them. An older gentleman wearing a veteran’s cap, with his dog sleeping under the picnic table, and with a heavy backpack leaning against the end of the picnic table welcomed me and told me to have a seat. There were also a couple of younger guys sitting on opposite sides of the table. Everyone had a piece of cardboard and they were discussing what to write on the cardboard in order to maximize future panhandling contributions.
The discussion was very animated. The conversation was every bit as important to the group gathered at the table as next year’s advertising campaign would be to a group of Proctor and Gamble advertising executives. Which is more effective, for example, “pitiful” as in “Need groceries for my family!” or suggesting that a contribution will help “get rid of you” as in “Need gas to get out of town?” One young man wanted to go with the “honest” approach as in “I’m not going to lie, I need beer money!” The problem with this idea, apparently, was that too many people were already using it. It was “last year’s campaign,” so to speak. Humor also had a following. For example, “My girlfriend hates me and my dog just died, please help!” After a long discussion, magic markers were wielded and a hush of extreme concentration fell over the table. They even had colored markers to help bring their advertising messages to life!
Finally, things were wrapping up. The posters were finished, and the older, veteran dude said he had some good news to announce. He looked the way people look right before they give you your birthday present. Reaching into his pack he pulled out a package of small American flags. He told the young guys that attaching a flag to their poster would “double” their results! This announcement was greeted with great satisfaction. Everyone seemed very happy. That’s when I made a mistake that I regret to this day. I pointed out a misspelled word on one of the young guy’s posters. He was so crestfallen that nothing seemed able to cheer him up. Even the flag didn’t seem to help.
Why couldn’t I have just kept my big mouth shut? That’s the horrible thing about saying the wrong thing, you can never take it back!
I have always thought that one’s first time panhandling would be really hard. What if someone you know sees you out on the street corner? That thought always gives me a chill. The next morning it was raining hard. My friends from the night before were struggling to keep their cardboard posters dry with pieces of plastic bags that were way too small. The young guys looked like they were really miserable. They struggled on down the street and that’s the last I saw of them.
Marc and Buddy
Allow me to introduce Buddy, or perhaps I should say allow me to introduce Marc and his faithful companion, Buddy. Buddy is a dog who thinks he is a person. I met Buddy at Starbucks. He was laying on the floor looking happy a couple of tables over. His companion, who I soon learned was Marc, said, “Buddy go say Hi!” Buddy immediately stood up and walked over to my table with a friendly expression that seemed to say, “I expect to be petted after going to all this trouble.” The next moment, I found myself petting him behind his ears and all his other favorite places. It is easy to underestimate the power of expectation when it comes to both canine and human affairs. Dale Carnegie mentions this phenomenon in his classic self-help book, “How to Win Friends and Influence People.” He suggests that we imitate the tail wagging advances of a friendly dog when approaching strangers. Of course, in the absence of a tail, we have to make do with a friendly demeanor.
After Buddy introduced us, Marc and I became good friends. I soon learned that Buddy was a very special dog indeed. Buddy and I had a lot in common. In addition to being particularly attentive at meal time, we both loved Starbucks. The air conditioning was nice, the baristas made sure we had plenty of water, and we both enjoyed the whipped cream. All you had to do was say the word “Starbucks” and Buddy and I both perked up! Buddy was practically human. He communicated by tapping with his paw whenever he wanted something. He tapped on the car window if he wanted it down. A tap on your leg indicated that more ear rubbing was needed. I swear he even licked his lips and tapped your leg with his paw when he wanted water!
Buddy soon became the center of attention at Starbucks. Everyone marveled at his friendly disposition and incredible communication skills. I couldn’t help but notice that Starbucks seemed more welcoming and more friendly after Buddy arrived! Everyone seemed to want to come over and say hello! I also couldn’t help but notice that Buddy had a special way with the ladies. That sly old boy was a veritable chick magnet! This phenomenon was duly noted and much appreciated by both Marc and myself! I soon realized that Buddy’s presence was indispensable when it came to seizing the moment and living the good life!
The Bicycle Apostle
On one trip, I was headed west towards Lewistown, Montana. Another cyclist was approaching from the opposite direction. It can be lonely cycling down the highways of America. It is usually a lot of fun talking to other bicycle tourists. Most of the time the conversations focus on how tough things are, but occasionally you have an opportunity to talk to very interesting and unusual people. I waved and called out, “Where are you headed?” That is the way bicycle tourists signal that it is time to chat!
John was on a long trip starting in Utah and headed to Maine. His gear was of the highest quality. He was riding an immaculate, blue Surley touring bicycle with an Ortleib handlebar bag and Ortleib rear panniers. I told him I liked his touring set-up. John seemed both very competent and very humble. Those are not traits that you often see together in one person. I already knew he was an experienced cyclist based on observing his very smooth pedal stroke and the way his bicycle was adjusted.
I asked if he had enjoyed crossing the Judith Mountains. I explained that I had traveled through Lewistown several times. He replied, “It was so beautiful it made me think about God!” How often do you get an answer like that? Sincere and straight from the heart! I told him I agreed that the scenery was inspiring. His reply really knocked me out. With a smile he said, “I’d rather think about God while I am bicycling than think about bicycling while I’m sitting in church!”
I thought about all my Sunday morning bicycle rides over the years. I have always thought of the outdoors as a magnificent church, beautiful, inspiring, inclusive, and healing. All you need is a Sunday morning and a bicycle! I thanked John for sharing his thoughts regarding Sunday bicycle rides! We shook hands to confirm our mutual understanding of how beautiful the world is, and then we continued on our respective journeys.