West. Day 4.

June 12, 2016

Escanaba to Crystal Falls, Michigan

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I was willing to face any unknowns to bicycle the roads of America.

First time on an airplane? As long as my bike was packed secure, I was on board. Meeting a bunch of strangers with whom I'd spend eighty-four days bicycling from the Pacific Ocean to the Atlantic? Let's go!

In 1976, committed to riding across the country with Bikecentennial '76 (B'76), I sucked in my gut to fly alone from Detroit, Michigan to Eugene, Oregon. Outside the terminal, I unboxed and assembled my bike. B'76 staff picked up me (and two other riders), taking us to a "bike-inn" to greet the rest of our group. The bike-inn was a big old house in downtown Eugene with creaky hardwood floors.

We were officially known as the Trans America west-to-east camping trip, code number 1TAWK527. Unofficially, we were the "Tomodachis." One of our group, Yuichi, came from Japan. Tomodachis means "friends." Our departure date was May 27.

Dipping my rear wheel in the Pacific Ocean. May 27, 1976.

Here's my airplane entry from my 1976 journal:

The mountains were unrealistic--I felt as if I were looking at a relief map and could put my hand out and touch them. Spotted two low-flying jets and they seemed to whiz by and we were standing still.

Had a nice feeling toward United--lots of food and Coors 5 cents a glass! The time flew and we arrived 15 minutes early.

We were over the Mississippi in just an hour--to think it will take me almost two months to return to it.

I've never seen such a blue blue in the sky above.

Flying over the Rockies, 1976. They don't look too hard.

Forty years later, still willing to pedal into the unknown, I left Escanaba on roads I had never previously ridden. Now I was really on my way to Montana!

Original Facebook post:

POSTCARD FROM THE ROAD 6/12/16

The wind caresses my right cheek like a gloved hand, swirls across my chin and brushes off the left side of my jaw with a flourish. No headwinds this day.

As I crest a mile-long climb, shifting gears for the descent, I peek at my mirror. All is clear. I pause my pedaling to scan the vista of potato farms and northern pine forests. Suddenly, as if in a scene from the “Matrix,” movement freezes. The largest bumblebee I’ve ever seen is zooming in a trajectory I know will intersect with mine momentarily. In slow motion I duck and dodge my head. A near miss and normal time returns.

Gravity grabs me now, and although there is another ridge ahead, I hang on and enjoy the 30-mph ride while I can.

Here I am! Camp in Crystal Falls.