T-3: Almost Gone...And Beyond.

It dawns on us---two days ago---that there is life after the bicycle trip.  I am busy packing up our house, removing all the little, ridiculous tchotchkes that are full of our life’s stories, when it hits me that we have given not one thought to what happens when we are done cycling.

We will be returning to our cabin in Wyoming after cycling.  We will be there in November and December---it will be winter in the mountains.  We have never been at the cabin in cold weather, so don’t have things like winter coats there.  So now we are also packing for the Wyoming sojourn, realizing that we will need computers and our electric toothbrush and other daily living items that will not be a part of our bicycle trip.

This daily living has been much the focus of the past few days.  Since Wes’ Birthday/Retirement/Bon Voyage Party last Saturday, we have been filled with almost unbearable feelings of love…for the people who came and shared their stories of travel and transformation, for our wonderful old house, our lush backyard, for goofy, unbearable, delightful Detroit…and for our animal family.

The best it has looked in years.

Wes and I had a two overwrought days on this last point.  Our kitty Mimi left the yard while Wes was busily painting the porch (which looks the best it has looked in years).  This was Monday afternoon.  She didn’t come home for dinner, usually a sure attraction.  We called her often throughout the night, all the way up until after midnight.    The next morning, we call and look, out into the alley, up and down the streets, growing ever more anxious.  No Mimi for breakfast; no Mimi by lunch.  I put out an APB on the list-serve, a great Hubbard Farms resource, and attach photos that grab my throat: Mimi just awake after sleeping in one of my hats, staring contently at the camera; Mimi, managing her daily toilet in the comfort of our bed.   Wes, sighing, says things like, “We may just have to accept that she is gone.” 

The cat in the hat

We continue looking and calling, but now it is like a millstone.  What if she doesn’t come back?  What if she comes back and finds strangers in our house?  This is not what we wanted.

Wednesday, about lunch, she comes sauntering back.  Wes is finishing the last of the painting when he hears her demands to be let in.  She is dirty and hungry, but fine.  We guess she got locked in somewhere.  Perhaps someone saw my post on list-serve and let her out of wherever she was.  Wes feeds her, locks her in the house, and comes over to Matrix to tell me.  He has tears in his eyes, and we hug in relief, knowing our cat is home.  She is now on house arrest.  Such is the punishment for wandering kitties.

There is a terrible poignancy about this moment of preparation.  It is true that we are leaving the things about our life that have worn us down…the long hours, the burdensome stress, the wear and tear on our bodies and minds.  But we are also leaving so much that we love.  We have a fine life here.

Although outsiders wouldn’t recognize it.  Life is kind of easy here in Detroit.  Wonderful, beautiful houses can be had for pennies on the dollar compared to other cities.  The climate is pretty great.  It gets hot…but not for long…it gets cold…but not for long.  It is not the unbreathable sweltering sauna of Houston, or the 10 month icebox of Wyoming.  We don’t get floods, or tornadoes, or hurricanes, fire, or mudslides.  We have lots of water.

Things love to grow here.  Wes and I still flinch as we kill volunteer trees in our yard.  In Wyoming, trees are great treasures which require much nurturing and tenderness.  Down on the Detroit river bottom, we are in an endless conversation with plants that take seriously God’s admonition to “Be fruitful and multiply.”

We swim in swirls of living, breathing art and culture.  There are more house concerts, films, poetry readings, garden plantings, neighborhood clean-ups, marches, and processions, community sports leagues, home tours, and history walks than could ever be attended.  These events are put together by swarms of community building, good hearted, do-gooders. 

Yesterday in a meeting with a potential board member, he said something that so typifies the Detroit ethic.  He said, “I just believe, that we all have to do something, even just one thing, to make the place we want to live.”  It is so true.  We know hundreds of people who are playing their part, doing the one thing they can do, from making sure the corner lot is mowed, to organizing massive protests, to babysitting the neighbor’s kids, or cats, or house, ---creating a list-serve where I can post my cat’s absence.

We know, in profound and necessary ways, that we are all in it together.  We have learned, by brutal necessity, that our survival depends on each other, and that there is no government, here or beyond, coming to do much of anything for us. 

Is it like this elsewhere?  I don’t know.  I sort of doubt it.  But we are heading out…in just three days, to see what life is like in the great beyond.  We come as sojourners, ready for discovery, but aware of the struggles, beauty, and joy we leave behind.  Already the trip is a blessing.

T-17: OMG

The to-do list we’re working on is completely unmanageable. I move from obligation to obligation.  What has to be done right now?  What can be delayed a few minutes, a few days?  What is essential, what is not?  As I try to make sense of this, I feel as though I am in a haze.

Here’s a quick overview of the many strands of action I am managing:

Preparing the house for house sitting: getting rid of all the excess that needs to go the Salvation Army, beginning to store all our personal items so the house sitters can have space for their goods; purchasing dog and cat food ahead, making sure all the repairs are done; making sure the animals are up to date with their shots; preparing the “care and feeding of house and animals”  document; getting a debit card to pay for animal expenses; clean, clean, clean… repair whatever needs repairing.

Preparing the yard for our absence: get all the beds in order, weeded, mulched, and organized; prune the overgrown shrubs; replace the rotten garden timbers with brick; make sure the tools, mower, hoses, etc. are in good order.

You may think this sounds over the top. It is to a degree, but it is also defensive.  In the years we have been using house sitters, we have discovered that sitters will do and allow things that owners never would.  A case in point: one year, we left the seldom used basement toilet with a wonky fitting.  We told the sitter to make sure the valve re-seated if the toilet was used.  When we came home, we heard water running.  Sure enough, the basement toilet was running and apparently had been for weeks, given the size of our water bill.   Another example: rare oh rare is the sitter who will maintain the garden.  For renters and sitters, watering and mowing the grass alone is pretty challenging.  If we don’t weed, mulch, and prune, we come home to a jungle with aggressive plant likes grape vines and coltsfoot, circling and killing our perennials.

Getting ready for the trip itself: getting the bikes overhauled and prepared for long-term travel; making sure we have all the maps for the trip.  (We just received maps for our routes from Portland to north of Seattle where we join the Northern Tier route we will follow across the country.  We also received the maps from Portland, Maine to Boston at the end of our trip.  www.adventurecycling.org). We have joined www.warmshowers.com, which is a website that connects touring bicyclists to people who are willing to let you camp or stay at their house. 

We still need make arrangements to ship our bikes and BOBs from Detroit and Laramie.  We think through the pack again and again: do we have the right clothes?  Do we need better rain gear?  What safety and health preparations are prudent and which are extra weight?  We have a flight from Denver to Portland, but how will we get to Denver from our mountain cabin?

Driving across the country:  We will drive across the country to our cabin in Wyoming before leaving.  We have a whole variety of furniture, dishes, and other materials that need to be packed to take to Centennial.  We think we will camp across the country, but because we will need to travel fast, we better make sure we have reservations. 

Wes’ 60 birthday/retirement/bon voyage party: We are hosting a party before we go, so there are invitations to be sent, food to be prepared.  We will spend the weekend getting the backyard ready for the party.  (See above)

Getting our bodies ready:  We both have had extensive dental work and mine is still not done.  I am still trying to get to the gym (although I am supposed to be there right now as I write these words) to continue my strength training.  We have also been trying to get as many bike rides as possible before we go.  I should go to the optometrist, but it is looking like that will wait.

Making sure the retirement and financial changes are complete: There is a mountain of paperwork, new insurances, changes of accounts and more that have to be managed.  Wes has been nagging me for more than 3 weeks to get my IRA transferred.  I say, “soon, soon” and keep it on my to-do list.  We need to make sure we can pay all our bills online, something we have never done to date.  So far that is a “soon, soon.”  But time is running out and I regret we did not do this change last January.

Of course, these are ONLY the preparations on the personal side.  The to-do list for the company and for Wes to close out 30 years of teaching are twice as big and twice as complicated. 

Right now, we are like buffalo facing a vicious snowstorm blowing in from the east.  There is nothing to do but put our heads down, accept that pleasure is not going part of the picture for a while, and keep on plodding to our goal.

So, while we can see that our escape is coming, we are deeply experiencing the tangling bondages we have so tightly wound around our life.  The irony is nearly overwhelming.  We want the weaving to stay intact while we carefully extract ourselves from the weave.  So many threads to unravel, so many threads to re-weave.

---

T-27: When the Universe is Ready

The Gate is open....step through

Ok, Universe, thank you for saying yes to our big plans for this trip. I can see the gate has opened.   In the few days several important energies have shifted.  All have given me such a big sense of relief.

Step 1.  We have found our house/animal sitter.  After numerous interviews and conversations, we have found a young woman who will happily deal with our odd dog, Louie.

Step 2.  The Dreaming at Daybreak fundraiser was more successful than I dared imagine.  The 1 year cash total exceeded our challenge, and most movingly, promised donations into the future.  I am stunned, humbled, and thankful.

Step 3. A grant renewal had slipped my mind and was not included in my cash projections, but will make a significant payment this summer.  It will move Matrix out of the cash flow blues.  The new leadership will not be faced with that particular form of hell.   This was the final step in making it really, truly comfortable to make this big change.

Two years ago, I wrote the first blogpost in this series: T-720: The Commitment is Made; Let the Wrangling Begin.   I wrote in that post, “We will do this to mark a transition in our life and to harken back to our first years together.  It will mark the end of the years of Massive Work, where both of us regularly worked 60 hour weeks and did little else, giving ourselves wholly (and destructively) to our jobs.  It harkens back to the first years of our marriage and youth, where some of the happiest days of our life were spent on long distance bike travel.”

Reading this post of nearly two years ago is especially poignant today: May 26, 2013.   34 years ago, we were married.  Today, as we were driving out to our regular breakfast spot, I read out loud to Wes the timeline of a 45 year marriage.  At the end of the article, the wife said that she couldn’t believe that she still enjoyed his company so much.  They had their ups and downs and their near misses, but here after all these years, they still loved their time together.  Both Wes and I were crying at that.  Because after all these years, with plenty of ups and downs, and some years of doubts and confusion, we still really enjoy each other’s company.  We truly are each other’s best friends. 

35 years ago, both our souls leapt at each other and said, “There you are again.”  It only took one date (really truly, one date) and then we bonded and have been nearly inseparable since.  (Although Wes says he never spent so much time being alone until we began living together—see note about giving ourselves over to our work).  Even now, when I crawl into bed hours after Wes (he’s a morning person; I’m a night person), I still want to “plug in.”  I snuggle my hips into his and I feel as though a circuit is complete.   

We drive each other crazy, but make each other laugh.  We know each other’s stories inside out, but can spend hours making up stories and elaborating the ridiculous adventures of our alter-egos Googie and Bonkie.   Wes will never be done telling me to close the door, or quit leaving my shoes and socks everywhere.  I will always be frustrated with him because his idea of planning is starting. 

When we go on this long ride: 4500 miles, we will prepare our bodies and our minds for the third third of our life.  We will let go of the structures that have shaped our every day.  And we will invest in that which we have neglected: our health, our relationships, and our writing.  We face this new world a-coming with joy…and a few tears… Here it comes.

T-42: Promises Made....and Kept

Two years ago, when we made the decision to go on this epic bicycle trip, we identified several commitments which had to be met before we could leave.    Some were big and scary; some would take a long time; others would require a bit of luck.  Before we could go, we had to:

1.       Be completely out of debt: no mortgages, no car debt, no personal debt

2.       Wes had to be retired and have secured his pension;

3.       Matrix had to be put on secure footing, so it could run without me.

4.       We had to have our estate planning done

Two years ago, we still owed tens of thousands on our mortgage, had just purchased a newish vehicle, and were carrying a small amount of personal debt.  For months upon months, we paid a double note on our mortgage.  This was no fun, I can tell you.  When Wes would get a bonus for his teaching overages (the result of his giant sized classes), we would pay more on the mortgage.  We set up extra payments on the car.  This meant that we were just working and paying bills.  We were happy to use the excuse of our exchange daughter Louise staying with us to give ourselves permission to spend some money on recreation and travel.

I think we would have just made it out of debt in time, but we were given a great boost from a sad source   After a long decline, Wes’ father passed away, leaving his house to his sons.  Unfortunately, selling the house caused a huge rift between the brothers which still has not healed.  Wes’ share of the proceeds allowed us to pay off the mortgage and the car, to our great relief.  There is something poetic about this.  George was a great outdoorsman.  He would spend months each year in the mountains, happily living a tent, and riding horses into the back country with “Eastern dudes” who thought they wanted to kill elk.   It is nice to think that George’s final gift to us was a chance to fulfill this lifelong dream.

Getting Wes retired was actually pretty easy.  We had been growing increasingly concerned both about his ever increasing work load, the never-ending drumbeat of anti-teacher press, and the constant incursions on teacher pensions.  Truly, the writing was on the wall about retiring sooner rather than later.  Making the psychological adjustment was much more difficult.  Wes is an excellent teacher who has invested his identity, his heart, and his time into this work.  Now, that he coming to end of this phase, he can be moved to tears to think he will never again have the chance to teach The Scarlet Letter.  Now that’s an English teacher!

Securing Matrix: now there’s a notion.  This has been a complex, scary, upsetting, difficult, and ultimately hopeful endeavor.  Just the other day, the board signed a Memorandum of Understanding with Andrea, Jake, and Megan to take over the day to day operations of Matrix.  I am very happy to see the company pass into the next generation.  I would be lying, however, if I didn’t also admit that it has grabbed at my heart to not be at the center of things.  But I also know that every child has to head out on their own and make their own life.  I have always, rightly or wrongly, thought of Matrix as my child.   I feel as though I have successfully seen my child “married”.  Both Wes and I laugh that it is appropriate that our “child” would end up in a non-traditional marriage.

When we return from the bike trip, I will serve as Matrix CEO with two primary responsibilities: getting that damn kid a trust fund and place to live.  With those two key pieces in place, I feel I will have done everything I can to make sure that Matrix can survive into the future.  This is still Mom-thinking, which has been both a blessing and curse.  Like a Mom, I have always been willing to do more than any employee would.  I truly believe Matrix would not have made it 22 years without some heavy duty parenting, but if I have done my job well, it should never require that kind of care again.  We’ll see.

We have finished our estate planning, though not finished all the details.  Those details, along with 8 jillion logistics, some of which are huge (like securing a house/cat/dog sitter) are the pile we are moving through in these last six weeks.  There is still a lot to do (a major fundraiser, for instance, getting our bikes and gear to Portland and back, for another instance) that have to be done.  However, we have done most of the heavy lifting and can see the light growing, ever growing at the end of this tunnel.

T-88: A Home on the Road, Bedroom Version

Getting ready to be on the bike for months on end, on a self-supporting tour, means thinking about making the lightest, most comfortable home possible.  Oh yes, and make sure it weighs less than 70 pounds total.  This has been a big effort that is not quite done.

 

In our house, we have a kitchen, a living room, a dining room,  two bedrooms, an office,  a bathroom, and a full basement where we wash clothes, store food, and watch movies.  I assure you we have filled every room with furniture, art, tchotchkes, and the detritus of daily life.  Nearly all of the functions of our life in our house still have to continue when we are on the bike.  We will still need to eat and sleep and keep ourselves clean and healthy.  There will be hours in camp that have to be filled with reading or writing or maintaining ourselves, our relationships, and our gear.

Because we will be travelling for months, through wide and varied terrain, through all kinds of weather, we also have to have carry a closet.  We know from previous tours that bike problems are an inevitable; we have to carry a tool chest as well.

How to do all this without overloading these two fat old slow souls?  How to manage the need for both comfort and lightness?  It also important to consider durability and ease of repair. Being on the road is necessarily dirty and sometimes quite rough.  More than once, we have slept in sites no one would consider a beauty spot--on gravel or in the pouring rain.  Clothing, tents, and sleeping gear will take a beating on trip like this.

So what's a soul to do?  I have thought long and hard about the problem of the bedroom.  

From this...

In tours past, we have each taken one pad, a sleeping bag, and threw them in a good tent.  Even in our younger, fitter days, we would often face a poor night's sleep.  Always, Wes is a better sleeper than me, able to sleep sitting up on a moment's notice and wake up refreshed.  Me?  Not so much.  Even in my comfortable bed, I toss and turn and smash my pillow and struggle to find a position that keeps my slight spina bifida hips and back from throbbing or going numb.   Then it is another effort to shut down the chatter in my mind. 

In the past few years, while car camping, we have discovered that sleeping together, under a down comforter is infinitely preferable to snarling up in separate sleeping bags.  We can snuggle and share body heat if it is cold.  We can throw off the comforter if we get warm.  Usually, it's both.  I sleep cold and want Wes' warmth.  Wes sleeps hot and kicks the covers off his feet.   Ok.  So we want to use a down comforter instead sleeping bags. 

 But down comforters are usually surrounded by white cotton, a terrible choice in wet or dirty conditions.  So now we need to find a way to protect the comforter.  Solution: a double silk liner bag  (from Campmor) which will keep the comforter clean and somewhat protect from damp.  On a really cold night, we will be able to get in the liner for increased warmth.  Good.  What is the weight and size cost?  Oh my.  More than 9 pounds.  Even compressed the bag and liner are 21 inches by 8 inches by 6 inches.  Big.

We choose to keep that weight and size in recognition that we have to sleep well or we will not be able  to keep up the cycling day after day. 

The bedroom is not done.  We still need a bed and a bedroom.   We choose to take two pads EACH. Wes will take two closed cells, and I will take a closed cell and a Therma-rest pad.  More weight, more bulk.  Add two more rolls the same size of the comforter roll.  Weight cost: 4 pounds for Wes and 5 pounds for me.  Weight so far: 18 pounds.


To this...

Finally, looking at our tent, we have several choices.  The big cabin tent we use for car camping is obviously wrong.  The small tent we bought last year for the bike trip, although light and small, was extremely uncomfortable.  The few nights we spent in it were miserable, sleepless, body-aching wrecks.  The tent we took on the last bike trip won't do either, with its broken zippers and holey floor. 
That sets me on a search to find a tent.  Light, strong, roomy, easy to set up, able to survive big winds and big rain.  We have even found ourselves in snow.  After look, look, look, we are thrilled with a great tent from REI.  Good size with plenty of storage space.  Wonderful weight: only 7 pounds and very small package. 

We almost have a bedroom (although we are still debating what to do about pillows).  Size: total bulk of  21 x 25 x 6.  Whew!  Weight cost:  25 pounds.  These are big numbers.  Can we make up weight and size in other parts of our home on the road?

 

T-720: The Commitment is Made, Let the Wrangling Begin

The decision has been made.  In 720 days, Wes and I will begin our 60 Soul Search on Cycle.  For years and years, we have been talking about taking a Portland to Portland run by bike...and doing it on Wes' 60th birthday.   We will do this to mark a transition our life and to harken back to our first years together.  It will mark the end of the years of Massive Work, where both of us regularly worked 60 hour weeks and did little else, giving ourselves wholly (and destructively) to our jobs.  It harkens back to the first years of our marriage and youth, where some of the happiest days of our life were spent on long distance bike travel.

An assessment is in order.  Where are we now?  Still both embedded in our work. Both overweight by at least 40 pounds, which is is much worse on me because I am full foot shorter than Wes.  Both suffering from chronic stress. Both feeling the damage of this 20 years of intense work.

I feel-- already-- the exuberance of making this change.  Because I can see an end---in 720 days--which is, after all, not around the corner---I can feel the burden begin to lift.  There is a lot to do to get ready, especially for me.  It is easier for Wes.  He will retire from teaching in one year.  That is clean and clear.

I, however, am the founder and Executive Director of Matrix Theatre Company.  It is a constant effort to keep this complex little operation going and growing.  I am deeply embedded in entirely too much of its operations.  Extricating myself and ensuring that company will survive is a bit like separating conjoined twins.  The good news is that I have been applying the cautering iron in several areas for several years.  But still...

The other issue is that we live in a house with animals, in Detroit.  There will be many arrangements to be made to ensure their and its safety during our long journey.

And then there are many, many details about the biking itself.  Previous tour experience tells us to travel from West to East.  We know we want to take a train to the West and start from there.  Wes wants to buy equipment at the beginning of the trip, to which I am utterly opposed.  I want to get everything working and tested before we leave.

This is an old tension between us.  I am the careful planner; Wes loves the symbolic, extravagant gesture.  He creates 10 tons of work to avoid 1 ton of work.  I plug along forever.   Let the dance begin.