After 74 days of biking west, Jenny and I arrived in Astoria, Oregon on July 25th around 2pm. We started our journey in May on the East Coast in Yorktown, Virginia and had biked a little over 4,300 miles to get to the most northwestern part of Oregon. A whirlwind of events ensued that did not give me much time to really reflect on what we had just accomplished.
My friend from the Appalachian trail, “Hoops”, was traveling in her car and was in the area. We had planned on meeting in Astoria and I would go up to Washington with her while Jenny biked to Portland to catch a flight home from there. Hoops met us that night and we had a celebratory dinner before she returned to sleep in her car and Jenny and I found a little clearing near the bank of the river to call home for the night.
The next morning, we went to a bike shop, obtained a bike box, and I began to disassemble my bike to make it easier to travel with. Jenny and I said our goodbyes as we parted ways. Shortly after, Hoops and I headed North to explore the various regions of Olympic National Park, beginning with the Rainforest region. We arrived at the park and I stepped outside, stretched my legs, set my phone on top of the car, and made a sandwich before we set off to walk around on a nearby trail. I had never seen trees quite so big before and the way the light shown through the canopy was breathtaking.
When I went to take a photo, I realized that I had forgotten my phone. After a bit of exploring, we returned to the car and I began to look for it. I didn’t see it right away so I retraced some of my steps on the trail, thinking maybe I had it at the start. Then I went to the ranger station to see if anyone had found it and turned it in. When those didn’t prove to be useful, I continued my frantic search in the car that was filled to the brim with two peoples belongings. After a bit of searching, we noticed that my phone was still connected to the bluetooth in the car. We wanted to head out so we could begin our hike on the Pacific Coast region of the park before it got too late and it was still an hour away. So figuring that it was somewhere in the car, we departed from that spot. About 10 minutes into the car ride my phone stopped being connected to the bluetooth, shortly after I had my ah-ha moment. I left it on top of the car when I went to make a sandwich and it flew off the top of the car, surely exploding on impact with the pavement, if not that, with the tire and impending weight of passing vehicles. The moment already having passed, I figured there was no point in turning around, so we continued onward to the ocean to begin the hike. The hike was relentless ups and downs, as the trail was crafted to avoid the high tides of the ocean. We pitched camp for the night 4-5 miles out, on a beautiful sandy beach overlooking Oregon’s coast.
The next day, after having thought about it a bit more, we made the hour drive back to where we had been to look for my phone, or the remnants of it. We pulled over on the side of the road where we thought it flew off and began to comb the sides of the roads. We eventually found some of the internal bits that once made up my iPhone, as well as a $20 bill among the wreckage. That bill had been my emergency money, and I was ecstatic to have recovered at least some of what I had lost.
I felt liberated in a strange way. I mean, it was a total inconvenience in terms of being able to communicate with anyone and I hadn’t backed up my pictures so I lost all the ones that I hadn’t posted on Facebook. Yet, pouting over the past never gets one too far. I had lost my phone and with it, my connections to the world. I was on the other side of the continent from the majority of my family and friends. I was just thankful to have a companion at the time that was still able to connect with that outside world. It really shook me awake to how dependent I had become on a little gadget. I did my best to merge with the moment and to not make any proclamations of this being a “bad” thing. I wanted to practice detachment, to things, to outcomes, so the universe, or maybe it was my forgetfulness, gave me an opportunity to do so. It was simply what happened and I could stand to learn a lot from being part of the world without the distraction of having it all within reach. I tried logging into my Facebook account but I couldn’t remember my password, I tried recovering it in my email, to which I also could not remember my password. I was completely off the grid, nobody could reach me and (besides the limited telephone numbers that still occupied my brain) I could reach no one.
We went up to the mountainous region of Olympic National Park and did some hiking up on Hurricane Ridge. After, we went to Seattle and explored some of the best sights including the space needle and the Pike Place Market, which conveniently, happens to have a wall where people can place their gum with it once they are done. Hoops dropped my bike box and I off at the Seattle Bus Station and we said our goodbyes.
I left Seattle on a greyhound, heading east for the first time in 2 1/2 months. I would take that greyhound to Billings, Montana, where my dad would pick me up after having gone to Yellowstone. It was just my journal, my book and I to make the journey, so I finally had a bit of time to reflect on everything that had just happened and its place in the larger scheme of things. I hadn’t made any groundbreaking discoveries and I wasn’t feeling very profound. I just had a creeping urge to continue to pursue what life may have to offer. I reflected on how much easier it was to be present and how many less distractions existed when I didn’t have a phone. I began my bike ride with a desire to explore more of the world, I ended it eager to explore more of myself. I certainly peeled back layers of my ego along my westward journey, but as I often said in both Virginia and nearing the coast of Oregon, “I still have a long ways to go”.
It’s comforting to believe that everything happens for a reason. That everything is perfect at any given time and we get exactly what we need in order to further evolve and grow as conscious beings. The only thing we can really control about life is our reactions to the outer situations. It is important to be aware of any additional suffering we may be creating for ourselves by how we deal with those situations. If there is something that can be done, do it. If there isn’t, why add a layer of suffering through worrying about something that it out of our control. Even the things we think we are in control of can change in the blink of an eye.
Writing about this now, more than two years after theses events have elapsed, I think I am able to bring much more awareness and perspective into my reflections from the time. My biggest challenge of riding my bike across the country wasn’t the steep inclines, the harsh wind, it wasn’t even figuring out how to adapt to coming home after something like that, it was confronting my own ego. I “wanted” to go slow, but when it came down to it, I couldn’t break myself out of my default “go,go,go!!!” state of mind and self. Additionally, I really struggled with learning to travel with another person, it was no longer just myself I was looking after and that highlighted my ego tremendously. There was a very selfish part of myself that was reluctant to merge with what was, which caused internal conflict at times. I learned a great deal about myself that summer and in hindsight, it was exactly what I needed in order to correct some default states of thinking and being that were unhealthy and unproductive (although it’s a continual process).
I had wanted to go on this bike ride to chase this feeling I had become so fond of when I was walking the Appalachian Trail. This feeling of bliss and of complete oneness with the world and my surroundings. Waking up and going to bed with the sun, moving forward a little bit each day in the pursuit of a larger than life goal. Keeping my desires low and my spirits high. I felt so at home in the world, with the weight of my life on my back and fate calling the shots. Returning to go straight to University was nice as I had something to focus on, yet the whole college freshmen gig seemed rather artificial compared to what I had just witnessed. I went on this bike trip with the wrong intentions, I wanted an escape. I unconsciously expected some sort of profound life altering realization when I got to the other side of the country. Pursuing this goal selfishly, led me only to emptiness upon my arrival in Astoria. I had just accomplished something extraordinary that very few people can say they have done, and I felt nothing. It didn’t seem like anything revolutionary in the moment, but in the coming months, I realized that it was exactly the lack of realization and fulfillment that were my red warning flags and as always, I got exactly what I needed. I did the bike trip for myself, I figured since I was doing it, I might as well do some good and raise some money for a just cause. At the time, I was studying environmental studies so it made sense to try and raise money for the environment, while trying to promote sustainability and environmental consciousness in the process. In the end, my heart was not fully in it and I did not do it to the best of my ability. I felt that added a layer of inauthenticity to a trip in which I was seeking something other than doing for the sake of doing.
My conclusion at the end of all this was that I need to seek balance in my life. Balance between doing adventurous things that push me to my limits and make me grow as a person but also doing things selflessly for the betterment of humanity. I had always been very passionate about helping people and I knew that I wanted to dedicate my life to helping others, in some capacity. Upon return from the bike trip, I felt restless where I was. I fought that restlessness through another semester of classes for environmental studies as my interest in the subject faded and my motivation and desire to learn plummeted. I knew I needed change in the direction my life was going, but I was far too close to the subject to have a clear head and good enough perspective on the situation. After much more deliberation then was necessary and at the very last second, I changed my major from Environmental Studies to what has always been staring at me, Social Work. In the first week of classes, in which I was a week late due to my intense deliberation and extensive pros and cons list, my restlessness faded and the path ahead of me seemed clear.
I read something somewhere at sometime that said to relax into the world, and that has always stuck with me. I feel as if that is the best option, to not fight the storm, but to learn to be grateful for its rain and its wind. To learn to abide by the natural tides and rhythms of life. To look at obstacles as opportunities for growth. Life is similar to riptide of an ocean; if you fight it, you’ll lose almost immediately. However, if you are patient and go with the flow until the timing is right, you can evade it’s grasp, even if just for a little longer.
Thanks for following along and reading my ramblings. Many more to come, the road goes on forever!
Lots of Love (LOL) – Lynne Wummel
