Some final thoughts

Like a horse refusing to go into her stall, legs locked leaning against the halter and lead, I have stayed away from my home computer and this blog since we arrived in Flagstaff. I don't want to our trip to end, and yet it has. There needs to be some closure, but I have been trying to extend this walk from the freedom of the pasture to the 4 walls of the stall. It feels something like an identity crisis - as if, when the door closes that person who spent the last 2 months trotting across the country, will cease to exist. Not true, I know - but this is where my reluctance is rooted. On a table in the garage sits our list - the checklist of everything we needed to pack. I can't bear to move it - seeing it brings back the excitement of preparing for the trip, and makes me nostalgic at the same time. (Writing this I understand that leaving it there is a bit of self-torture.) Some days our trip feels like it transpired in a dream...did we really ride across the country? And other days, especially riding my bike to work, I can be transported instantly to a soybean field in Nebraska, or the top of a mountain pass - which feels like magic!

In an effort to keep that feeling alive, Mike and I rode our bikes up to the Grand Canyon last weekend and stayed overnight at Susan and Gary's house. It was a beautiful fall weekend - aspen and scrub oak leaves making a chromatic turn for winter.

I think it also helped me turn a corner away from, what I've been calling, my post-pedalum depression. (My PPD is somewhat annoying really - evidently all sorts of people go through this poor-me phase upon returning from their adventures.)

One way to make moving into the 4-walled stall more bearable is to bring along the blog. I enjoyed writing on the trip, so why not continue - especially since it seems that I've finally gotten over my unwillingness to close the trip blog. Time to start something new: http://bonnieodonnell.wordpress.com/

Elk at the Grand Canyon and next door to Susan's house.

Re-entry turbulence

My life feels ridiculous. Why do I live in this house? Why do I do my work? Why do I have 8 pairs of shorts? Why do I color my hair? It's as though I've woken up from a dream where you're a pirate, let's say - only to wake up in bed wearing an eye patch and puffy pants. The only thing to do is scream. Okay, so maybe it's not quite that bad, but I do think that ridiculous is the appropriate adjective.

Here's the problem. During our bike trip, each day I woke up and there was nowhere else I wanted to be, no one else I wanted to be with, nothing else I wanted to be doing. Such a rare and precious privilege! The problem is, now that I'm back, I want to be somewhere else, doing something else (thankfully, I still don't want to be with someone other than Mike!) It's rather depressing and grating - especially as it bumps up against the reality of the previous 60 days of pure contentment. The contrast is as jarring as hitting a pothole and flipping over your handlebars onto the pavement. You lay on the ground, aching, and wondering how you got there.

Wellsboro newspaper

Cyclists enjoy excellent adventure


(photo by Natalie Kennedy) Bicyclists Mike and Bonnie O'Donnell took a day to rest in Wellsboro as they neared the conclusion of their cross-country trek.

by Natalie Kennedy

It's been a long road - 3,100 miles of it - and a long time getting there - over six weeks - but it's been an excellent adventure for cyclists Mike and Bonnie O'Donnell.

The Flagstaff, Ariz. residents began their cross country trek on July 20 in San Francisco, Calif. They plan to continue biking to Norristown, possibly even New Jersey. They'll return home by air on Sept. 13.

So, why does one decide to bicycle from ocean to ocean?

"It's something I always wanted to do since I was a kid," said Mike, a psychiatric social worker.

Our 15 minutes of small town fame!

09/16/2008
Life Cycle
By: GARY PULEO , Norristown Times Herald Staff

Bonnie and Michael O’Donnell ride their bikes in East Norriton last Wednesday. The married couple rode their bikes cross-country from California to Michael O’Donnell’s mother’s residence in East Norriton.

EAST NORRITON - To a hard-core biker, pushing off from San Francisco to East Norriton, fully loaded and ready for the road, means something.
To Michael O'Donnell, the 51-day trip back to his hometown meant that in his early 40s and weighing in at 165 pounds, he was still up to the task.
It also meant that for he and his wife, Bonnie O'Donnell, a dream that's been put on hold for a couple of decades could come to fruition.
"I've been racing bikes as a hobby but in the last year it's been getting hard to do that - and I've always wanted to do this trip," O'Donnell said while visiting his mother in East Norriton.
"This winter we started talking about it because you don't know what the future holds. So we made it happen. But one of the fascinating things we found out is that there are a lot of people older than us, in their 70s, doing these bike trips.
"At that age they have the time and the money and it's something they've always wanted to do."
O'Donnell hadn't tackled any "loaded" touring for at least 20 years, he said.
As the term might suggest, "loaded" means you don't require a lot in the way of outside help, he explained.
"On our honeymoon we did a bike trip with support, which is not the same thing at all because you don't have to carry anything; you just ride during the day while a van follows you in case you break down or have problems. This was a lot different."
Self-sufficiency on two wheels depends on more than packing enough protein bars, O'Donnell said.
"Everything you need the whole time you're out is carried on your bike, down to your water filter," noted O'Donnell.
Though the couple lives in Flagstaff, Ariz., they chose to embark on their 3,500-mile journey from a more geographically compatible location.
"My wife has an aunt in California, so we rented a car one way and started there so we could go coast to coast," O'Donnell explained.
Bikers are apparently an important demographic in that state, he added.
"They have these tunnels just for bikers in California and it's just mind-boggling because it's like having your own road. There are even call boxes every mile for bikers ... it's like nothing I've ever seen."
The trip was fairly evenly divided between camping - "sleeping on the ground isn't easy when you're in your 40s," O'Donnell said, laughing - and staying over at people's homes and motels.
Between chatting with folks across the country and keeping an eye on tire tread, the O'Donnells detailed their route and some of their experiences on the Web site, www.crazyguyonabike.com.
Rabbit Ears Pass in the Rocky mountains of Colorado provided the setting for "high drama," O'Donnell remembered.
"We climbed up for maybe 13 miles when the weather changed halfway up. We heard thunder and the sky got dark - you don't want to be out in the high mountains during that because it can get pretty nasty very fast. We were able to beat that storm but it was our closest call to potential disaster."
Closer to home, when confronted with the potential horror of riding through rush hour traffic, the couple was thrilled to stumble upon an unexpected detour that saved the day.
"We were on the Perkiomen Trail, and up around Upper Perkiomen High School we found the Skippack Township Trail.
"We didn't even know about. It wasn't on any of the research I had done. So I called home and talked to my sister and they found it on the Internet and found out that it goes right to Evansburg State Park," O'Donnell said.
"This was during rush hour and we were thinking we didn't want to have to get off the trail and deal with rush hour traffic, but then we didn't have to because we hit this trail, which took us all the way to Skippack Creek in Evansburg Park."
Winding through the back roads by Methacton High School meant no brushes with impatient drivers anxious to get home after a long day at work.
"We rode through Southeastern Pennsylvania and never hit traffic because we were always on bike paths on country roads.
"It's really a viable way to get places if you live in that part of the county. Before we saw that trail, what we were thinking of doing is taking the Perkiomenville Trail to Oaks, at which point you can actually get on the Schuylkill River Trail and go all the way to Philadelphia and not have to deal with cars."
Planning for a long bike trip of this intensity involves some sort of physical training, which the couple credits to bike rides several times a week.
"We both ride three or four times during the week, and in the summer we both ride back and forth to work," O'Donnell said.
"It's about seven miles - downhill the whole way there and uphill the way back. So it's very easy to do.
"And for us, riding our bikes is also making a political statement," he added. "It's always been that way for me, long before the Iraq war. Riding bikes doesn't pollute the air."
Gary Puleo can be reached at 610-272-2500, ext. 205, or at gpuleo@timesherald.com.

Day 54: East Norriton to Philadelphia

46 miles: Wednesday was a tough day. The second day with no riding. By mid-afternoon I was going a bit stir crazy. We went to a couple of doctor appointments with Fran - Mike's mom. It's weird being in a car again...movement that is so passive. And I'm not in control of where we're going (obviously I wasn't the driver.) It was a bit frustrating.

I've been thinking about what it will be like going back to our other lives. We've had this life on the road that seems like it exists in another dimension. Riding through towns and other people's lives, we are mostly observers rather than participants. Time and space were different.

We occasionally became aware of time - the day traffic was light (is it Sunday today?) and when the gentleman in Indiana told us to hurry up because the restaurant would be closing at 2:00 PM (we thought it was just 1:00 PM...we never changed our clocks for Eastern Time in Indiana.) But really our time was dictated by when the sun came up and when the sun went down.

And space - sometimes we felt vulnerable on our bikes, exposed. But mostly it was liberating not to be confined in a car or an office or a shop or a house. Our space was the whole world. Walt Whitman wrote, "I am vast...I contain multitudes." You can't argue with vastness...for me it's emptiness and fullness at the same time. I think this is why I liked Nevada and Nebraska so much. Vast empty spaces that are so full of life if you slow down and look around.

Change of plans today. Decided we didn't want to fight traffic all day, so we took advantage of the miles and miles and MILES of bike path around Philadelphia. Rode the Schuykill Bike Trail (which runs from Valley Forge to the Philly Art Museum) downtown, and then rode back on the Wissahickon Bike Trail to the Forbidden Drive, and then back roads to get to Conshahocken and the Schuykill Bike Path. The bike trail brought us back to the Farm Park which leads right to Erin and Dennis' front door (where we're staying). How awesome is that?

Packing up Friday and flying home Saturday am. Down in Philly, when I asked Mike, "are we there yet?" He said, "It depends on your definition of 'there'." I like that answer - since we're not 'there' yet, it means our adventure isn't over.

Day 53: East Norriton, PA (rest day)

Just some random cycling quotes that I like...

"Bicycling is a big part of the future. It has to be. There is something wrong with a society that drives a car to work out in a gym."
~ Bill Nye

A Zen teacher saw five of his students returning from the market, riding their bicycles. When they arrived at the monastery and had dismounted, the teacher asked the students, "Why are you riding your bicycles?"
The first student replied, "The bicycle is carrying the sack of potatoes. I am glad that I do not have to carry them on my back!" The teacher praised the first student, "You are a smart boy! When you grow old, you will not walk hunched over like I do."
The second student replied, "I love to watch the trees and fields pass by as I roll down the path!" The teacher commended the second student, "Your eyes are open, and you see the world."
The third student replied, "When I ride my bicycle, I am content to chant nam myoho renge kyo." The teacher gave praise to the third student, "Your mind will roll with the ease of a newly trued wheel."
The fourth student replied, "Riding my bicycle, I live in harmony with all sentient beings." The teacher was pleased, and said to the fourth student, "You are riding on the golden path of non-harming."
The fifth student replied, "I ride my bicycle to ride my bicycle." The teacher sat at the feet of the fifth student and said, "Ahh.... I am your student!"

Day 52: Norristown (rest day)

We slept in! What a treat. And Fran made us a wonderful breakfast. We've started to make preparations to go home: reserving airport shuttles, tracking down bike boxes to ship our bikes home, buying packing supplies.

We had a special treat after dinner. Fran (Mike's mom)is an active member of the Greater Norristown Art League, and she invited us to a special talk that the Art League hosted. Victoria Wyeth, Andrew Wyeth's granddaughter, gave a presentation on her family and Andrew Wyeths' work. She was a great speaker - giving us all sorts of intimate details about her grandfather and the making of his paintings. I was particularly surprised to learn that nearly all of his paintings have been done within a 10 mile radius of their home in Chadds Ford, PA (and their summer home in Maine). Here we rode 3500 miles across the country in search of adventure, beauty, knowledge, people - and Andrew Wyeth found all of these things and more without ever really leaving home. The art of paying attention...it's quite a remarkable gift. (FYI - Andrew Wyeth is still alive and painting at 91!)

As a last hurrah, we'll be riding down to the Delaware Bay at Wilmington tomorrow. I'm hoping that we'll have time to stop at the Brandywine River Museum at Chadds Ford to see some of the actual paintings!