Another town, another post office and another place to ditch some more weight. It's funny to think that at the end of the last tour, I was carrying a steel sword on my bike just for the hell of it. Right now, I'm looking to trade in my silverware for plastic utensils just to throw some ounces to the wayside. The Cascades have done a good job in convincing us to minimize.
It's when you're really getting your ass kicked by a steep, empty road that you realize you're not in Kansas anymore. Entirely spent, the wheels cease to turn and my feet hit the ground. With my elbows resting on top of the handlebars, my head hangs and sweat drips from my brow and onto the map. The pulsing of my own heart beats loudly on my ear drums, but soon subsiades. The birds are singing, the nearby brook is babbling and a gentle breeze welcomes me back. The creek just ahead is churning up fresh oxygen and breathing a new, cooling life into the air. If I weren't on a schedule, I might stay for hours to breath it in, but I cannot.
As the day wears on, the climbs continue. Between two giant ridges of mountain, I barrel on through the valley between, along the river and engulfed in shade. The evening light is stolen from within this route and only shines far atop the wall of rock beside me. Though in time, all light is lost and still I climb. Up, up, up... ever onward. The more we climb today, the less we climb tomorrow. I'd continue to the top if I could, but these legs aren't ready for it and I have to call it a day.
How often do you have the chance to sleep in the woods, alone, for as long as you'd like, peacefully, where nobody could possibly know where you are? I've forgotten how revitalizing this can be. As before, I'm having profoundly vivid dreams that seem to stretch forever through time with no beginning and no end -- I'm just lucky enough to catch the train in motion and go for a ride. Atop the highest skyscraper in a city of animated and curiously curved, hand-sketched buildings, I launched myself into a peaceful flight of music and color. I could fly, drift, spin or dive with perfect fluidity, in line with any degree of gravity I so desired. Traveling about was an art form and I flowed freely, soaring, flipping or diving headlong in harmony with my own tune. I splashed about the galaxies of deep space and swam in a weightless river of stars. Over a waterfall I fell towards the ground, and then through it. Through it into deep canyons of red and the warm browns of earth. It was invigorating and care-free, like a deep breath of euphoria with no need to exhale. And when my eyes finally opened, the stars I swam remained brilliantly scattered above in the night sky. I had only to lay there and smile.
Back on the road and spinning wheels, we polished off the rest of the 5,500' climb in a couple hours. The backside of this mountain was almost as surreal as the dream and was a good 15 miles of practical bicycle freefall. As you're going down, all you can think about is how much you wish you could save the moment. Maybe get it on video, maybe just share it with someone -- it's so glorious that you wish it didn't have to end, and you sort of wish it never had to start. As soon as the downhill begins, the elevation is lost and the road fades away and begins to fade from memory. It's a once-and-forever feeling and I wish I didn't have to let it go.
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Down in the town of Winthrop, I washed the sweat and salt out of my clothes and went to find a shower. They want $20 for a camp site with a shower I can't do it. No deal, that's pizza money. Fast-foward fifteen minutes later and I'm swimming in the river and scrubbing myself down. Bye-bye sunscreen, bye-bye bug spray, dirt and blood. It was a bit chilly but damn refreshing... I'm sure it won't be the last time.
Nobody says you have to wait until you're 59 1/2 to retire. As a rare inside view of early retirement, this book sets out the exact steps necessary to retire young.
My mini laptop that I carry with me to make this site possible. Only 2lbs and nearly impossible to break.
My name is Charles Tronolone and I'm attempting something a bit unconventional; I'm trying to make a living by writing while on a perpetual bicycle tour. How I got to this point is a story in itself, but suffice to say that I
refuse to be just another cog in the machine. There's too much important work to be done and too many eyes to open for us to be content with personal goals or riches. In late 2006, I managed to escape the machine, and now I'm setting off to help bring it down.
Whether or not this website proves to generate the revenue required to keep me on the road remains to be seen. I understand that the odds are heavily against me and that this means of income requires incredible amounts of time I simply won't have. However, it's the content that is going to accomplish what actually matters in the end. Should I fail financially, there's pride in knowing that I have already succeeded in purpose -- I have helped to liberate my peers to spread truth and meaning into their own lives.
If you're interested in helping my cause or have found the articles on this site to be personally beneficial or simply entertaining, please check out a couple of the ways you can help contribute. Aside from a kind donation, there is actually an easy way for you to earn $20 while simultaneously helping me on my mission. It allows you to withdrawal cash from *any* foreign ATM without paying a fee, and it's something that has saved me a lot of money while traveling. Click here to learn more.
refuse to be just another cog in the machine. There's too much important work to be done and too many eyes to open for us to be content with personal goals or riches. In late 2006, I managed to escape the machine, and now I'm setting off to help bring it down.
