“In Giono’s work what every sensitive, full-blooded individual ought to be able to recognize at once is the song of the world. It is intimate, personal, cosmic, untranslated, and ceaseless. It contains the notes of the lark, the nightingale, the thrush; it contains the whir of the planets and the almost inaudible wheeling of the constellations. The most inanimate objects yield their mysterious vibrations. The philosophy behind this symphonic production has no name: it’s function is to liberate, to keep open all the sluices of the soul, to encourage speculation, adventure, and passionate worship.”
Henry Miller
“The Books in My Life”
I am on the River Road making my way from Presidio, Texas to Terlingua, Texas on my way to Big Bend National Park. Signs warn drivers that a 15% grade is approaching. Vehicles with heavy trailers might not make it up such a steep hill, so the warning signs are a good idea. It would be a nightmare to have to back down the hill if your vehicle stalled part way up the hill!
When I finally reach the top of this hill, I turn and look back. The view is stunning. The Rio Grande River twists and turns as it forces its way through the rugged landscape. The river looks powerful and violent. There is a general feeling of violence in the air in this corner of Texas. I am reminded of Cormac McCarthy’s novel, “No Country for Old Men.”
The Border Patrol check points, for example, are definitely scary. “Are you a United States citizen?” the agent asks. The German shepherd dog straining on his leash reinforces the gravity of the question. “Yes, I am a United States citizen,” I answer. “What do you have in your bicycle cart?” the agent asks. “Camping gear,” I answer. I am motioned through. I have a new word for my bicycle trailer, “bicycle cart.” It sounds pleasantly old fashioned. I like it, but I think I’m going to stick with bicycle trailer!
I think about the check point as I look down on the river. The Mexico side looks wild and beautiful. It suggests there is a whole other Big Bend National Park on the other side of the river that I will probably never visit. I feel a bit sad looking down on the river. This will be my last time to take in this magnificent view. After ten years of touring America by bicycle, I have decided to settle down, publish this book, and establish the Bicycle Joy website. I want to tell the story of my journey, to share my knowledge of the route, and to encourage people to tour America by bicycle. My bicycle journey is coming to an end.
Civilization is partly an expression of our fear of meeting the world face-to-face. There are so many ways we retreat from the world: general “busyness,” fences, houses, government, law, insurance, art, music, literature, philosophy, religion, TV, games, drugs, alcohol… All of these often serve to separate us from the natural world. When was the last time you were really hungry, thirsty, cold, wet, or just plain scared? When was the last time you walked under the stars at night and listened to the howl of the coyote?
Most of the time we go through our daily routines without really engaging with the natural world. I recognize the necessity of things like earning a living, raising children, and paying taxes. I am an avid consumer of art, music, movies, and literature, none of which could exist without civilization. Nevertheless, we simply must take time to engage with the natural world. In his novel “The Brothers Karamazov,” Dostoevsky explains how we should engage with the natural world, “Love every leaf, every ray of God’s light. Love the animals, love the plants, love everything. If you love everything, you will perceive the divine mystery in things.”
Letting the world in is the central theme of that most earthy of the great writers, the French author, Jean Giono. Recalling his masterpiece, his novel “Song of the World,” I remember Antonio, the hero of the novel, sinking into the clear water of a great river, winding his way through the river grass, and holding on to a rock to steady himself against the endless rush of water. Giono celebrates the natural world. For the most part, his characters simply endure. They work in the fields, they look at the sky and the trees, they listen to the wind and to the sound of children playing. They are calm and they are content.
A simple life, face-to-face with the natural world, lived one day at a time, that is what my bicycle journey has meant to me. It has been a great privilege to see this beautiful country, to feel the wind and the sun on my skin, to smell the hay fields and the seashore, and to listen to the stories of the people I meet. Empty and vast, heartbreaking and lonely, splendid and rich, crowded and noisy, and sometimes brutal and unforgiving, America delivers different messages depending on the traveler. If you decide to pedal across America, I am certain that America will speak directly to you in a special language that only you will be prepared to understand! Bon voyage!
“He opened and shut his fingers as if, from time to time, flowers were
being born out of the palm of his hand.
“I’ll speak to you as I do to myself, shall I?”
“Yes,” said Antonio, “speak, but don’t forget I’ve mainly been brought up
with fishes. I’m quite ignorant.”
“Yes. But you’ve felt a lot. You’re one of those men who can be compared
to axles. You go your own way smoothly, but you feel the wheel circling
around you.”
Jean Giono
“The Song of the World”