Beginning at the Middle

Well my friends, today we witness another step for mankind, or at least this kind of man. A non-directed communication, released into the void for the perusal of whomever may chance apon it in there random internet meanderings. Think not, ye, that this be the first electronic documentation of mine adventures into yonder wild world, but til this moment, each and every communication has been directed, and written with a specific set of recipients in mind. A page is turning, and my thoughts are no longer my own and those whom I choose, but the worlds.

I am beginning at the middle because I have had other adventures, and this is simply a continuation of a actions already set in motion, grinding on an imprecise path with unknown destination. Thus I will likely intersperse the new with the old, in an attempt to form a more complete picture of my experiences and what they mean. I hope this will be enlightening.

But as every experience has some deliniating features, separating it from previous experiences, my current conquest of the coast via bike commenced with a few hearty pedal strokes down the old roads, not more than 10 days ago. My plan was to go from tacoma to portland, portland to eugene, Eugene to the coast and on to San Francisco, and then on down the coast perhaps as far as L.A., at which point I will point my handlebars inland and follow a yet uncertain trail to central Arizona, to a farm outside the town of Cornville, where I will be learning the ins and outs of the seed farming business.

I am currently in Portland, visiting a friend and just now completing necessary bike repair. I am only a few days of actual riding into my journey, yet I already have adventures to relate. After having left my home on the previous sunday, I biked for a number of hours and was nearing Centralia on 507 as dark was approaching. I had planned on camping the whole way, and this was my inagaural night. I road until I saw an undistrubed patch of forest near the road, pulled to the side, waited until no cars were nearby, and quickly jumped through the bushes. I carried bike and bags in seperate trips to a nice moss lined clearing a hundred yards or so from the road. I had my dinner, set up my hammock, hung my food, and bedded down for the night, happy get some rest after my long hard day. I decided to read a bit before sleep, and started with the Rubaiyat by Omar Khayyam. Just a few pages in, I looked up to the sound of a car pulling over on the road. New thing I hear is "HEY BUDDY, I SEE YOU IN THERE. I HOPE YOU REALIZE YOU'RE TRESPASSING ON PRIVATE LAND! YOU BETTER GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE, I ALREADY CALLED THE COPS."
I tried to reply that I was simply passing through and would leave early in the morning, but the man was not interested in talking with me. He simply kept telling me, in other words not so kind, to beat a hasty retreat before the johnny law arrived.
What could I do? I quickly packed all my things, not wanting to get harrassed by cops while getting everything together. I then planned to go to the side of the road and wait for the cops, to explain that there were no posted "NO TRESPASSING" signs and ask where I would be able to camp. Well, between retreiving my food, packing my bags, and making doubly sure that I hadn't left anything, it took about 20 minutes to get ready. No cops. Then I frog hopped my bags and bike in short segments so that I wouldn't lose them in the dark towards the road, coming close to the road in about 15 more minutes. No cops. I then decided to sit for awhile, just out of veiw of traffic, and wait. After an hour of half-meditative, half-conscious sitting, I decided that I would brave it and go back into the woulds with the bare camping essentials. I finally got bedded again about three hours after I had initially, much more tired and somewhat wary, leading to a night of poorer sleep than I would have wanted.

The next adventure was not long in coming. The previous day I had heard a ping sound from my rear wheel, and after inspecting it visually I came to the conclusion that it had been a spoke loosening after my truing the day before. I had meant to try to true it the next morning, but since I had wanted to leave that particular camp site early, I wound up putting it off. Well, that was a mistake, because as I was coming up a hill near Longview, I heard a rapid serious of pings, and looked down to find my wheel royally fucked up. I made it to a driveway on the side of the road, and inspected the wheel to find 5 spokes broken. well, really lame, but I was prepared. I sat down to replace the spokes, and found that I couldn't quite get the replacement into the spoke nipple. I tried loosening the other side several times, thinking that this would allow the spoke to get closer to the threads, but this was to no avail. I finally started getting frustrated, and thought I would check to make sure I had the right spoke. I compared the broken spoke to the new and voila, the replacement was a a good centimeter too short, which is like a mile for spokes. This after going to the one shop in Tacoma that can cut spokes to size, and who should know how to freakin measure a stupid spoke length. note, Bike Tech can suck it.
Well, with no other options I decided to stash my stuff and hitchhike into Longview to get good replacement spokes. after my 45 minutes of walking and thumbing, a great guy with a giant truck and CAT on a trailer pulled over, and seeing that I just had a wheel, offered to drive back and get my bike and stuff. I was overjoyed. We got the stuff and made it into town in time to get my new spokes, but it was too late to fix the bike and make it back outside of town to find a camping spot, so I had to spring for a motel. In the motel I spent the evening putting on the new spokes and truing using a jury-rigged stand consisting of two chairs side by side and my eyeballs.
The next morning I went in to the bike shop and the man kindly trued it straight so that my brakes didn't rub before sending me on my way. I made it over the most intense bridge I have ever crossed, over the Colombia, and continued up hwy 30. All was going fine until I went over a ledge on the side of the road, and though I did not fall, and looked down to see my wheel way out of true again. I did my best to true using the brake pads as guides, and did an alright job. I got back on the road and prayed to the bike gods that I could just make it to Portland Please! It was a very nervous last 30 miles, but I made it and was so happy!

I have spent the last week trying to get a new wheel figured out, and as of three hours ago have a newly hand built wheel on an excellent rim, which I hope will carry me for many miles. I am hoping to leave either tomarrow or thursday, depending on the whether and that this wheel doesn't need any more adjustments. That puts me in Eugene on thursday or friday, and on to the biggest leg of the trip on saturday or sunday! Wish me luck!