Memoirous

My last full day in Switzerland. Again the weather was terrific. After breakfast we packed a picnic, swim clothes, and towels and left Monica's house for a hike. Hike, such a small word. It was a big climb. At one point we went through a cow pasture (everything is a cow pasture!) and the cows blocked the way. Our goal was a lake for swimming. At a picnic table we ate out lunch before going down a path in the woods and stopping by benches beside the lake. There we quickly changed. The surface water temperature was 22C (not sure what that means, cold enough). The plunge took my breath away. I swam toward a resting platform in the middle before swimming back. I didn't dare get out, afraid I wouldn't get back in. After the swim, I laid on my towel getting warm from the sun. We left around 3:15 because Monica had to leave for a family weekend planned in advance over a year ago. She left on a bus at 4:10. I'll see her at the end of my bike ride, but for Johanna ... we'll ...

Let me describe what it is like waking up in Switzerland. I'm in Unterwasser, up in the mountains. Think, the children's book, Heidi. I open a door off my bedroom onto a terrace, where I look up as the sun burnishes the exposed granite peaks. Chalet type homes are scattered along the grassy lower slopes and the rising sun glints off the windows. Next I hear a clanking or knocking and wonder: Is it water? Monica took us the first day on a little walk to a waterfall. It was quite close by, just at the edge of the village. No, what I'm hearing are cow bells on the milk cows as they walk by to eat in the fields. The weather here is a lot like Michigan. The mornings are chilly and last night Johanna and I took a walk to see the super moon above the peaks. There is a hotel down the street as well as a bike shop where I topped off my tires after putting the bike back together. Everything arrived great. There is also just down from the bike shop a milch hut where local farmers sell...

I left for Detroit on the Michigan Flyer bus. No problem taking the bike in the undercarriage bay. That and so many questions plagued me; I just needed to walk and see how things were going to unwind.  Once at airport I right away got a luggage cart and was able to transport boxed bike to oversize baggage check-in. It was seamless. I waited 2 hours to board. Who knew they didn't serve an onboard meal? Luckily I'd seen a shop as I headed to my gate and got a monster salad. After take off I fell asleep until wakened for our descent into  Reykjavík , Iceland. Technically it was 2 a.m. but local time the sun was just coming up. I slept again during my connecting flight, which left within 30 minutes of landing. So quickly I got sorted. This flight also lasted about 5 hours. Once at Zurich Airport I had to do a few things right away: use bathroom, find cash machine/bankomatic, and find checked luggage. I did one and three. Again, used a luggage cart nearby and carried my stuff over ...

The Wild Geese By Wendell Berry Horseback on Sunday morning, harvest over, we taste persimmon and wild grape, sharp sweet of summer's end. In time's maze over fall fields, we name names that went west from here, names that rest on graves. We open a persimmon seed to find the tree that stands in promise, pale, in the seed's marrow. Geese appear high over us, pass, and the sky closes. Abandon, as in love or sleep, holds them to their way, clear, in the ancient faith: what we need is here. And we pray, not for new earth or heaven, but to be quiet in heart, and in eye clear.                                              What we need is here.

We just passed the autumn equinox—though there have been other things on the horizon (Rhine River trip)—the days are shorter, the mornings cooler, the colors heightened. Last night after work instead of going straight home, I rode around Lake Lansing and off beside the road the tops of trees were red and yellow. We’re still a long way away from peak foliage, but the sun slating through the trees and a haze in the air lent itself to Indian Summer—that brief respite before the big chill. It was about 80 degrees as I cycled. People were out walking and running and cycling. I saw turtles and herons tucked into the woods beside the road. Geese were flying and honking overhead Something Told the Wild Geese by Rachel Field Something told the wild geese It was time to go. Though the fields lay golden Something whispered,—‘Snow.’ Leaves were green and stirring, Berries, luster-glossed, But beneath warm feathers Something cautioned,—‘Frost.’ All the sagging orchards Steamed with amber spice, B...

There’s always pre-trip jitters. I’m not sure if this will ever go away. At the bike shop several of my co-workers have used services such as someone to haul their stuff from hotel to hotel—in one instance the husband and in another someone recommended by the guide service. They have also used guide services who plan EVERYTHING. Of course, my approach has been way different. How do poor people travel? 1) I hopped on this deal when it was first introduced on Facebook. I thought it was a scam. $600 RT tixs to Zurich, that’s tax included. I added like $30 trip cancellation protection (because COVID is not going away) 2) I do all the arrangements and itinerary planning myself—thus, all the headaches. 3) I stay at Warmshowers or hostels. Friends are also along the way. 4) Food is from grocery stores, bakeries. 5) As much as I can, I pre-book—thus, the NEED to attend to and stay on itinerary in order to make a train, etc. Here, though, I can also train to the train if I’m caught short. Yet...

Warm Showers hosts a podcast called Bike Life . As I’ve been prepping for my Rhine River Ride  I took the opportunity to explore the website further and—what the heck!—sent in my profile. Last week I got an email asking for a pre-interview and then yesterday recorded a 20-minute sit-down. The show will be posted and able to be downloaded soon and also available on YouTube. I sort of went over my personal history of bike touring and introduction to Warm Showers. We didn’t even get to my cross-country bike trip during the pandemic (in which I didn’t really use Warm Showers except for in Missoula). I had originally pitched the interview as riding during the pandemic. Tahverlee the host likes to work unscripted and steadily built the conversation based upon my responses. We ended up discussing stealth camping and some of my adventures and misadventures doing that. I do love camping by myself in off grid areas—selectively. Anyway, they’ll post in the show notes links to my blogs and...

There are times at my bike shop where we are dead as door nails and then for some reason the place fills up. I happened to be helping a couple make up their mind about a bike, assisting them in trying several out in the back parking lot. I came in to retrieve a new sample for them to try to find more customers than sales clerks. A father and daughter pair were test-riding an adult trike within our narrow aisles, which wasn’t okay, while another guy, a white male was close by them mimicking the pair’s language, I’m guessing Chinese. He turned to me, and said, “I’m not sure this is racist or not?” I assured him it was. One) What’s going on? Where are the sales help? And, Two) Why is this man making fun of these customers? The shop needs to be a safe place for everyone. I looked him straight in the eye and replied, Yes it is. I later ruminated over this scene. How is it some folks think it is okay to act this way? It wasn’t just him, but other incidents that have made me ask this same...

My newest story is out at Sunlight Press, titled All is Not Lost. It’s only 1,790 words—so a short short story. The impetus of this story began with a real event. I often stored my bike in the basement of an adjoining building where the door frequently was left unlatched. One time after coming home from an early morning work out from the gym I walked on what appeared to be a drug deal. In the semi dark eerie basement. The after-effect fear stayed with me. Then with all the shootings and killings across the nation flags always seemed to be at half-mast. They were half more than whole. I couldn’t keep track of who/what they were up or down for. Next my mind spun into how temporal life felt at the moment and something I’d heard, be it quantum physics or poetry, that we are made up of past elements, star dust as it were. Inside of me are saints and sinners, dinosaur bones and meteors that have rocketed to earth long, long ago. Our parents are only the beginning, the tip of the iceberg,...

Cue the music, “Heat wave, havin’ a heat wave, tropical heat wave, certainly can-can.” I slept fitfully all night long as there was the heat, humidity, and some guy shooting off m80s. I was ready to leave at 7:30 . . . it just takes a while to pack up and get going. The roads into the the campground are sandy, silty and therefore catch my rear tire. I had to proceed cautiously. In Gregory I tilted back a cold tea that did wonders and I next stopped again 10 miles from home at a little church on the corner of country roads, Buckley and Holt. There I applied more anti-chafing cream and drank a full 22 oz of lemonade. This again helped. It was a great ride, ridiculously easy despite the temps being oppressive. My clothes were full of salt from sweat—when I got home I immediately showered and did laundry. I was invited to go to the beach and declined—happy to just be clean and in AC.

What a lovely ride! Yes, it is scorching hot. It seems I only get days off for extended bike trips that coincide with heat waves. Still, I'm grateful. I packed Saturday night after work and got up and off early. Temps were moderate when I left as were winds, WSW, which was mostly good. Being Labor Day weekend and Sunday, the roads were empty. It seemed like in no time I was in Stockbridge Township where I picked up the Mike Levine Lakeland Trail heading east. In another few miles I was in Gregory where there is a well stocked market. I got Gatorade, chips, and a decadent treat that will last the entire trip. After Gregory  I stopped for an early lunch besides the trail. There are very few benches and picnic tables. After eating it had warmed up, but not bad. The sky was a summer blue with little puffy clouds and the meadows were wreathed in wildflowers edged by spruce trees. I really felt like I was in another land. I missed my turn to Hell. I know, it sounds worse than it is. The ...