Life On A B-I7

Wednesday, November 20, 2019

I wrote this poem while I was on my “Southern Tier” bicycle tour. I also kept a journal on the tour, you can read the journal by clicking on the Archive Link at the top of this page and selecting “Southern Tier 2019.”

The Country

What is it like

to ride a bicycle

across the country

  Time

    Distance

      Patience

        Looking Up

          Looking Down

            Pain

              Doubt

                Beauty

                  Love

Those are the words

that come to mind

but how do you put them together

To answer that

you need to get on your bike

and ride just how you like

Brad Adkins

Sunday, November 10, 2019

I wrote this poem while I was on my “Southern Tier” bicycle tour. I also kept a journal on the tour, you can read the journal by clicking on the Archive Link at the top of this page and selecting “Southern Tier 2019.”

I picked up a copy of “A Coney Island of the Mind” by Lawrence Ferlinghetti in a small used bookstore in Silver City, NM. It’s a compendium of poems taken from Ferlinghetti’s earlier works. I’ve been reading it as I have crossed the country. His poetry is deep and has an intellectual bent. He was an accomplished scholar. His contemporaries called him a “beat” poet, which he denied. I agree with his contemporaries. One poem in particular grabbed me. His poem #2 from the 1955 work, “Pictures of the Gone World.” It grabbed me because I have a very different view of life. This poem, that I call “Ferlinghetti Rails” (for reasons you will easily recognize, but also for the intentional pun) is an attempt to present my view. Please forgive me for taking such liberty.

Ferlinghetti Rails

“Love comes harder to the aged.”

I beg to differ.

I don’t want to

“run out on a rusty spur.”

I want to be in the “Saloon car”

with the lovers, “laughing and waving,”

rushing past the spur

where the rails ended

and the aged sit.

Someone has to show the passengers

in the Saloon car

how to live.

Brad Adkins

Tuesday, October 22, 2019

I wrote this poem while I was on my “Southern Tier” bicycle tour. I also kept a journal on the tour, you can read the journal by clicking on the Archive Link at the top of this page and selecting “Southern Tier 2019.”

The Road

The road is a killer.

The trucks killing machines.

This is how life is,

never swerving.

Could I talk to you,

I would ask you to slow down.

You would tell me to move aside,

for you are in a hurry.

You need to get somewhere soon.

I mourn for all the loss.

Do you mourn as well?

Would things be different

if this conversation were real?

Brad Adkins

Friday, October 11, 2019

I wrote this poem while I was on my “Southern Tier” bicycle tour. I also kept a journal on the tour, you can read the journal by clicking on the Archive Link at the top of this page and selecting “Southern Tier 2019.”

Wind

The wind

  . . . blew

The temperature

  . . . cold

The road

  . . . narrow

My fingers

  . . . frozen

The bike

  . . . swerved

Again and

  . . . again

The shoulder

  . . . loomed

Blown off

  . . . mercilessly

The destination

  . . . far

Brad Adkins

Thursday, October 10, 2019

I wrote this poem while I was on my “Southern Tier” bicycle tour. I also kept a journal on the tour, you can read the journal by clicking on the Archive Link at the top of this page and selecting “Southern Tier 2019.”

El Cosmico

The moon is almost full,

wood is burning, warming the water.

Smoke from the fire permeates the air

perfectly.

Not too strong.

I can’t imagine a better place.

I can, but it shall remain a mystery

for now.

I must return here,

to the music playing,

to water perfect temperature,

to the star filled sky and

moon brilliant.

Corded guitar accompanies me,

sounding like symphony

under the stars.

Brad Adkins

Thursday, October 3, 2019

I wrote this poem while I was on my “Southern Tier” bicycle tour. I also kept a journal on the tour, you can read the journal by clicking on the Archive Link at the top of this page and selecting “Southern Tier 2019.”

Grass

Wild grass has gone to seed,

wind bends the long blades,

they dance along side the road,

dancing in unison, a fractal dance.

The blades brush my leg as I roll by

asking me to stop.

I keep rolling,

much to their disappointment

I imagine.

Looking back,

they appear to be waving.

I roll on,

we agree to disagree.

Brad Adkins

Wednesday, October 2, 2019

I wrote this poem while I was on my “Southern Tier” bicycle tour. I also kept a journal on the tour, you can read the journal by clicking on the Archive Link at the top of this page and selecting “Southern Tier 2019.”

Birds

I stopped to rest,

the road was long,

the day was hot,

I was tired.

I saw three birds

circling above,

floating on wings stationary,

following each other.

They were in perfect harmony

with the air around them,

it held them up,

effortlessly.

I wondered,

why only three?

Where have the rest

of their flock gone?

Millions upon millions

have been lost,

since my father played

catch with me when I was young.

I want to build them a homeland

free of border walls,

where they can circle

on perfect currents of air.

Soaring freely,

until we can make their home

fit for them to live in again,

elegantly, safely.

Brad Adkins

Tuesday, September 24, 2019

I wrote this poem while I was on my “Southern Tier” bicycle tour. I also kept a journal on the tour, you can read the journal by clicking on the Archive Link at the top of this page and selecting “Southern Tier 2019.”

When I wrote this poem I was reflecting on the inordinate amount of road kill in the back country of Texas.

Lost

Millions upon millions lost,

since my father played catch with me

when I was young.

Brad Adkins

Friday, September 20, 2019

I wrote this poem while I was on my “Southern Tier” bicycle tour. I also kept a journal on the tour, you can read the journal by clicking on the Archive Link at the top of this page and selecting “Southern Tier 2019.”

Good Poem, Bad Poem

What makes a good poem?

It might be the rhyme,

Professor Higgins would agree, on a dime.

It could be the meter,

Dr. Seuss would be on your side here.

It might be the use (or not) of capitalization,

e. e. cummings would agree with that.

I say it’s the beholder that decides.

This is a bad poem,

unless,

you like it.

Brad Adkins

Thursday, September 12, 2019

This post was written while hiking in the Sierra Mountains

Fishing (Or Ode to Sam McGee)

My friends all went fishing.

I stayed behind to be alone,

I sort of like that.

Fishing is a noble pursuit,

One that I am not much suited for.

I would rather read,

or better yet write.

Writing makes me happy.

So does fishing for many.

I suppose we all have our

own weakness to bear.

The sun is going down.

I’m going to go for a walk

and chase it for awhile.

Capture a bit of warmth

and take it into the evening with me.

It’s going to get cold again tonight.

Last night was the coldest I’ve been

In a long time.

I love backpacking,

I love being in the wilderness.

I don’t like being cold.

Brad Adkins

Wednesday, September 11, 2019

This post was written while hiking in the Sierra Mountains

The Lake

The lake is a strand of dark blue

surrounded by a ribbon green marsh grass.

Ducks fly in low, landing in sequence, they

form a line paddling to the opposite bank,

their purpose unknown.

How long has this rock I am sitting on

been in this spot.

Certainly since long before I was born,

it will remain here long after

I have passed this way.

Perhaps it has always been here

since the cataclysmic uplift that raised

these mountains,

now, simply being weathered to nothing.

Perhaps it broke from the peak above,

a disobedient child,

and ran away, tumbling and churning

until it came to rest in this spot,

faraway from its place of birth.

I don’t want to leave this spot,

It sings to me of places far away

and sights too beautiful to imagine.

Brad Adkins

Sunday, August 25, 2019

This post was written while hiking in the Sierra Mountains

Lake and Sky

The lake is blue like the sky.

The two could be companions,

but the rock surrounding them

Separates them,

preventing them from touching.

Separated,

like people that can’t see eye-to-eye.

Yearning to find common ground,

but unable to reach out and touch.

They rest together,

each justified in their existence,

each no more right then the other,

each waiting on the other.

Brad Adkins

Saturday, August 24, 2019

Sim

Why are we here.

Are we real, or are we some future sim.

I have flesh,

how can flesh be rendered in code.

I don’t know.

I’ll have to be content to be me,

whomever that is.

Brad Adkins

Monday, August 19, 2019

Ride

We went for a ride

The ferry took us across the water

Together we conquered the hills

Brad Adkins

Friday, August 15, 2019

Feeling

Do I feel good

or do I feel well.

It could be both.

Although,

I have been told

that “good” is not a “feeling”,

it probably is,

at least it is the absence of bad.

I suspect I am well.

How can one be sure.

I am well enough today,

to ride my bike how I like.

Brad Adkins

Friday, August 2, 2019

Dad

Who is this man?

I barely know him.

He coaches my Little League team.

He knows nothing about Baseball.

His whole life has been striving

to make the goal…

Executive.

He was a lousy golfer,

he didn’t reach his dream.

He accepted us.

He did not want us to speak

unless we were spoken to.

At the end,

I held his hand

and looked into his eyes.

He spoke the words I had

waited a lifetime to hear…

”I couldn’t have asked for a nicer family.”

Brad Adkins

Saturday, July 27, 2019

This poem was written when I was cycling around the Finger Lakes in Upstate New York.

Hills

I learned once again, facing a hill

you have a choice to make.

Several choices.

Go up or go around is the first choice.

To go around is rarely the right choice.

It is an unsatisfying option.

Go up.

Once you start the climb, you must commit. Shift down and keep moving.

Look up if you can,

If you can’t look up,

focus on the ground in front of you,

keep moving.

A time will come when you must face defeat.

The hill will laugh at you,

but you have the last say.

You can accede defeat and turn around,

or you can continue the climb on foot.

When so doing,

the hill will tell you it has defeated you.

As long as you keep moving,

You will reach the top.

Once there,

you can look down on the hill and say:

“You have not defeated me today!”

The hill will laugh and say:

“I have many sisters.”

“One of them will succeed where I have failed.”

This is just idle chatter.

There is no hill that can’t be conquered.

That is what it means to be human.

The hills were put there to test us.

There is no hill that can break us.

Hills are a part of us.

Hills are the challenge that bring out our best.

Without hills, life would be meaningless.

It is the hills we choose to climb that define us, that make us who we are.

The beauty of cycling,

is that it is an embodiment our existential reality.

It is a physical expression of that reality.

You see it with your eyes,

You feel it with every beat of your heart,

with every breath you take in,

with every ache in your legs.

They are our life.

Brad Adkins

This post is rated for language

Just got an email from Microsoft. They are in the process of shutting down an email account of mine (didn’t know that I had one, but not outside the realm of possibility). The email looks very authentic, and frankly, is well done. (No reference to a Prince anywhere.)

Just for fun I clicked on the link in the email, ostensibly to allow me to “recover” my mail box and preserve it for future use. The link took me to a Google Doc page. This is problem #1. A Microsoft email recovery process would not use a Google Doc page! The doc asked me to enter an email address and a password. Obviously, this is problem #2. The ironic bit is the fact that at the bottom of the Google Doc page was the warning: “Never enter your password in a Google Doc.” …No kidding.

Well, this kind of shit catches a lot of people I’m sure. There are a lot of sucky people out there. It’s a shame they can’t put their skills to better use.

It leaves me wondering why now? I rarely get scams like this. We are starting to come out (we hope) of the worst phase of the Pandemic. Do scammers think we will have a natural tendency now that we are starting to feel “optimistic”, to fall for this sort of shit?.

So, naturally, I filled out the form! For email I put in “FuckYou@FuckOff.com.” For password I put in “FuckOffBastard”. I even had to write in my country! You can’t even call that problem #3. Anyone that gets this far is doomed in the gene pool, presumably natural selection will be running its course very soon. Next step, hit “Submit”.

Guess what. Nothing to see here! I got a nice message saying “Your response has been recorded.” I hope so! I hope someone reads it too!

There is no state with narrower roads, narrower shoulders, and more voter suppression than Louisiana, except maybe Georgia.

That’s not a fair statement, I’ve never cycled the roads in Georgia, but it is safe to say (as of today) Georgia leads America in voter suppression. I’ll have to go cycle the roads there to make an accurate comparison.

In defense of Louisiana (this is where I make James Carvel proud, even though he was born in Georgia…) the nicest people I’ve met in the South were in Louisiana. Mississippi came in a close second.

I haven’t seriously considered returning to the South for another epic ride, but I have to admit, the Natchez Trace Parkway is calling my name…

Natchez Trace Parkway

I’m finally getting around to (self) publishing the journal from my Southern Tier bicycle trip. If you click on the “Archive” Menu and select “Southern Tier 2019” you can read all the entries without distraction.

That was then. As far as the future goes, I plan to use this site to share my thoughts with you. Thoughts on cycling, skiing, hiking, politics (but mostly cycling, skiing, and hiking).

I have spent almost my entire adult life developing infrastructure for the delivery of information to corporate employees. (Specifically Database and ETL systems.) Here I am now, retired, and a consumer of the internet-at-large. I’ve never been a big consumer of that because I was too busy building my small corner of it. My current status will occasionally force me to reflect on all of my past experience, but I’ll try keeping that to a minimum.

To the previous point: I’m concluding that the Internet has lost itself. Ask Tim Berners-Lee, Vinton Cerf or Robert Kahn. The Internet was intended to be a medium that would connect people of all nations and races. Today, it is mostly a medium designed by corporate America to divide, classify, and distinguish us by our ethnic, social, economic, and political “potential.”

What do we do about that? I suggest we publish. Publish independently. Publish in our own voices. Don’t be lazy. Don’t give Facebook, Twitter, 4-Chan and all the other echo chambers, the ability to tell you what to think (or buy). Publish your thoughts and views in an independent manner on sites like Micro.blog. Let your voice be heard independently. Don’t be a megaphone in the echo chambers of narcissism. Say something meaningful, say something that comes from you.

Does it matter if people listen to you?

No.

Does it matter if you are “followed” by hundreds, even thousands? As a matter of fact…

No.

Here’s why:

It will make you a better person. The power of real persuasion, the sort of persuasion that leads to positive outcomes, lies in personal communication. When you put your thoughts in writing instead of re-posting other peoples’ thoughts, you have taken the first step towards independent thinking. Ancient Greek thinkers believed people should observe the world carefully and draw their own conclusions from what they saw. I don’t think those same thinkers would endorse listening to “opinion shapers” and “influencers” (or Autocratic leaders, or Sociopathic leaders for that matter).

The future of our country — as it has always been — is in our own hands. What you are reading here is not pushed into your “feed” by a Troll Farm operating out of some foreign nation-state. What you read here is authentic and personal. It is from me.

Cheers! I hope you enjoy.

“Once upon a time in a far-off kingdom there lay a small village at the edge of a wood…”

San Diego

Here I am, about to start an epic self-supported bicycle adventure. San Diego California to St. Augustine Florida. It will take 67 days. There will be 9 riders in total, none of whom I have met. The trip is organized by the Adventure Cycling Association. They run trips like this all over the country. They have an extensive catalog of routes from fully supported to self-supported, short duration to extended duration. This trip, the so-called “Southern Tier” across the United States is one of their most popular. The trip always begins in September to provide the best chance of friendly weather across the entire route.

I’m a bit anxious. I’ve only done a moderate amount of riding in preparation for this. I have been hiking in the Sierras this last week, so at least I haven’t been sitting around. I originally envisioned doing this journey solo, but never having done anything like this before, I decided that it would be better to go with others - at least the first time.

I hope this turns out well. I’ve brought my iPad along to keep a journal. I’m actually quite excited about the prospect of writing each day and recording the days events and impressions. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do. It should be a blast.

Besides… “I’m a great admirer of my own writing.” - Snoopy

Tomorrow the adventure begins!

Day 1

San Diego California

The Southern Tier Tour officially begins! The group met to discuss the routine we will follow and we had our first dinner together. Our ride leader prepared the meal for us. Tonight and tomorrow night we will be right here in the Point Loma Hostel. Tomorrow we are only riding 5 miles. We are going to dip our wheels in the Pacific and take a group photo. Then back to the hostel to make any final gear adjustments. I have been assigned to be one of the two cooks for tomorrow night (cook teams consist of two people), which means we are shopping for and preparing dinner, breakfast, and lunch. That is the routine we will follow, with each person getting the assignment to cook about ever four days.

Earlier today I rode out to the Point Loma Light House, a 10 mile round trip from the Hostel. It was a pleasant ride. There is also a National Cemetery on Point Loma which is beautiful. The bike is rolling nicely. It looks like I got it assembled all in good order. Not a huge day today. Things will get interesting on Tuesday.

Miles: 0

Day 2

San Diego California

Today we rode out to the coast from the Hostel. Two and a half miles to the Pacific Ocean. We took a group photo and pushed our bikes through the sand to the ocean. I turned my bike around and let the surf wash up, covering the bottom of the rear wheel, and my shoes. The bike has officially been baptized in the Pacific Ocean. With luck, 66 days from now it will receive its second baptism in the Atlantic Ocean.

After the dip, I spent about 45 minutes cleaning the sand out of the disk brakes, the chain, and the rear cassette. While I was attending to that, I noticed the Ocean Beach public pier. It looked like it might be the west-most location you can get to on a bike if you are in the San Diego area, so I headed out to the end of the pier, where four of my riding companions had already gathered. After the dip, and the visit to the end of the Ocean Beach pier, I think my bike is ready to head east. By the way, the bike is named B-RAD. Tomorrow will be the first of many long days of riding, not counting the occasional rest day we will have.

Miles: 5

Day 3

Get out of San Diego day

It’s 4:00am. I’m up. I can’t sleep any longer. There is something about facing the start of a long trip that makes you want to go through your gear and see if there is a way to pack it any better. I’m pretty sure there is, since up to this point I have pretty much just been throwing shit into my panniers. I has occurred to me that no matter how I pack my gear I can’t make it any lighter, but the desire to make that happen somehow keeps crossing my mind.

It has been a rough start for me. There is a portion of our crew that has some severe dietary restrictions and I have been hesitant about what the food would taste like when the accommodations they require are applied to our food prep. Last night I helped fix dinner. I may have been wrong to be nervous, I hope so. Everyone in the group raved about the meal. I was proud, but also a little embarrassed. I never would have thought to use Turmeric in hamburger instead of garlic, peppers, and the like. Of course yesterday was not a long day of cycling, so people weren’t hungry as they will be after a long day of cycling. Given that fact, this could be a sign that everything is going to work out fine. I hope so.

My biggest concern on tour (after food) is getting lost. I’m not very good at map reading and reading the ACA maps takes a bit of practice. So I plan to get lost today, that will just have to be dealt with when it happens I suppose. At least I’m not fixing dinner tonight.

It’s time to begin, I’m excited…

It took only 5 miles before I got my first flat. Sarah our leader helped me change it, actually she gave me some valuable tips that saved a bit of time in the process. She’s an experienced cyclist, actually that is probably an understatement. She has lived basically on her bike for the last four years. After fixing the flat I realized I was actually off course. It took an unscheduled turn to get back on course. No bonus miles awarded. However, I did get bonus miles awarded later in the day when I got off course for the second time. That time worked to my advantage, because the wrong turn took me into a town with a Walgreens Drug and I was able to pick up sun screen, which I badly needed, and some lemon aid. The latter part of the day consisted of a lot of climbing. The last 10 miles of the course was all up hill with no respite. It was also about a 5% grade, so you just had to put your head down and keep slogging.

We reached camp 2-1/2 hours later than our plan, so dinner was late, our map meeting was late, and for many, so was getting to sleep. Today’s course has even more climbing than yesterday, but the good news is that at least for awhile, I’m guessing until we get to Texas, today will be the last really significant day of climbing. I could always be wrong about that… My fingers are cold, it’s chilly in the mountains at night and in the morning. Time to pack up for the day and get rolling.

Miles: 51

Day 4

San Diego to Jacumba Hot Springs

First things first, I need to start with a correction to yesterday’s post. I was chatting with one of my fellow riders that has an inclinometer, I judge the last 10 miles of yesterday’s ride to be a 5% grad on average. I was informed that actually is was between 7% and 8%. Makes for a better story doesn’t it?

I didn’t get enough carbs or protein at breakfast, so about two hours into the ride I stopped for “second breakfast”, I definitely felt like a Hobbit. The restaurant was quite remote, but I knew I was in for a treat because there was a good gathering of cars in front. I went inside and the hostess offered to fill my water bottle. I told her I was there for breakfast and she was mildly surprised. I’ve noticed that as a group, cyclists are pretty stingy when it comes to exchanging something of value (money) for a water bottle refill. I ordered the pulled pork and scrambled egg hash with refried beans and a giant tortilla. It was awesome, I mean really good, I mean like out of this world good.

Yes, I was hungry… Half-way through my meal I thought it would be a good idea to back it up with a waffle - for the road - so I ordered a “plain” waffle to-go. It arrived in a box, which was perfect, but when I peeked inside I saw that it was covered with butter in the process of melting perfectly, and along side of the waffle was a big container of syrup to go with it. So being the resourceful person that I am, I went ahead and ate it on the spot. About half-way through the waffle I realized I needed to back it all up with a large orange juice. I walked out of the diner feeling full (imagine that) got on the bike and immediately started up a hill. Everything turned out all right, although doing that is a risky proposition, I have to admit.

This was the second day of climbing, as in thousands of vertical. I’ve never done this much vertical two days in a row. I felt stronger today than I did yesterday. I’m guessing it was the waffle. Whatever the case, it was a better day and I arrived in Jacumba Hot Springs feeling well enough to go into the market and buy a beer. The lady there informed I couldn’t drink it in front of her store. So, I drank half of it in front of her store, then went down the street to finish it on a bench in front of the art gallery. It was a tiny gallery, but it was right in my wheel house. The artist showing there was a metal sculptor specializing in welded creatures. My favorite one was a pelican on roller skates. You really needed to be there. The gallery was closed because they were getting ready for an exhibition in two weeks. This is how it rolls in a small town. I sat down on a log bench in front of the gallery to finish my beer. An old lady walked across the street and sat down next to me! She pointed at the cactus in the planter box and then pointed at me knee. She didn’t speak any English, well, very little. If anyone knows what she meant by that please get word to me. We tried to talk in sign language for awhile but it was pointless, so I told her I had to go and she grabbed my arm and said what I assumed was “wait”. Then she said something in broken English that sounded like “dollar”. Ah! The light came on! I walked over to my bike and dug a dollar out of my front bag and walked back. She gave me a big smile when I returned. At that point I knew I had guessed correctly. It was clear she wanted a hug, so I gave her a big hug and then started walking away. I heard something that definitely sounded like “wait” this time, so I turned around and there she was standing, pointing to her bright rid lips, and saying what was clearly the word “kiss”. How could I resist? I kissed her and she was delighted. And that’s how I got kissed by a prune-faced, red lipstick wearing octogenarian in Jacumba Hot Springs.

I wandered over to the bar across the street, at the resort where we were staying for the night, and ordered a Manhattan. The bar tender looked at me and said, “we don’t get a lot of requests for that.” She asked me what went in a Manhattan and I said, “well, Bourbon for starters, and then Sweet Vermouth. She looked at me a little disappointed and said they didn’t have any Sweet Vermouth. Well, they had a bottle three months ago, it hadn’t been opened in six years, so they threw it out. Just my luck. I should have done this tour in the Spring instead of the Fall.

Miles: 42