On Thinking About It
and Planning It
John Murray
I'm already thinking about my next long bike trip. I'm going to take one; I just haven't decided when or where.
My old buddy, Bill Hammond, used to say you enjoy a bike trip three times: planning for it, doing it, and reliving it. "And," he would add, "the best part is the planning." He further noted, "The best thing about plans is that once made, you can ignore them."
I remember planning my first cross country. I planned to do a clockwise loop across the country. I would first head south through the Appalachians then west across the bottom then north and then east toward home. As I would be starting out in June I wanted to get the south "outta the way" before it got too hot. I wanted to be in the cooler northern plains when the doldrums of late July and August hit.
As my departure time approached I started looking at the weather channel regularly. It revealed a steady pattern of rain storms - one after the other - advancing northeasterly up the Appalachians. If I headed south as planned I'd be taking them on the nose day after day. The northern part of our country showed a pattern of steady clear skies. The day before I left I decided to change my plan and reverse my direction - do the trip counterclockwise, heading north through Vermont into and transiting Canada before heading west across the top. And so I did. And it worked out reasonably well in that, though I left home during a morning shower, I was without rain most of the trip. But I had not known how sweltering hot and windy the northern plains can get in any summer month; my plans hadn't anticipated that.
I was not into camping for my first trip - I depended on motels. I learned that, as a rule, I didn't need to call ahead and make reservations. As long as I checked in no later than around dinner time there would usually be room at some motel. But as I approached Yellowstone I was advised that I had better make advance reservations or I'd be out of luck - it was still school vacation time and the Park was apt to be filled. I called ahead and found, sure enough, there were no vacant rooms at the Park or adjacent towns. So I planned to kind of "blow thru" Yellowstone and spend the night beyond it at the town of Jackson Hole where I was able to make a reservation. Feeling proud of myself for thinking ahead and "planning", off I went. I knew I had left only minimal time for seeing Yellowstone but at least I would have a room over my head that night. Little did I know I had overstretched my day's ride.
As I recall it was a nice ride on my approach to the park. I forget the sights or their sequence, but they were great. I had previously "done" the Blackhills and their offerings and I was well into the groove of touring. Hitting a slippery mud-filled section of road as I approached the Park, I went down and sustained a chest injury. An all-too-brief transit through Yellowstone found me changing a flat tire for a elderly lady after exiting the park as I headed south for Jackson Hole. I was absolutely beat and hurting as the spectacular Tetons emerged on my right. I considered crashing right on the side of the road and sleeping in the open, but I had "planned" and made reservations ahead so I kept on to Jackson Hole. I had let my planning start to control me. I resolved thenceforth to make no advance reservations and to bring camping gear on any future trips. I was learning the risks of going without one's own camping provisions and enjoying the flexible they afford.
Part of the fun of planning a trip is pouring over maps. I have always enjoyed studying maps and frequently have to clean out my inventory of them. As of now I do not have a GPS but I have found that one large-sized Wal Mart map of the country works reasonably well, especially if one uses it in the evening to plan the next day's ride and record that plan as a simple listing of the routes to be taken. The recorded listing should be readily available to one's eyes one way or another. The map should be kept reasonably accessible, but with luck need not be refered to again during the day's ride. I make it a point of stopping at any state's visitor center along the way and checking out what it has to offer for state maps and camping info. If available I also use its computer to check my e-mail and send a status report. One must resist the temptation to load up on the abundant literature available at visitor centers or at least, dump old stuff to accommodate any newly acquired info. Arkansas, by the way, has both excellent biking terraine and a marvelous policy of allowing one to set up camp right at its I40 visitor center - free of charge.
There is a part of me that expects to take several wrong turns along the way. Never in my past experience has a wrong turn proved to be anything but serendipitous - allowing me to accidentally discover amazing things. But how can one discover anything really new if they clearly know where they are going, what to expect when they get there, and religiously follow a plan to achieve those ends? Traveling in unplanned places causes one to keep their eyes open even wider than normal. Besides, when done within reason, isn't such random foraging behavior more in keeping with what is supposed to be the adventurous spirit of biking?
I got "lost" once diagonally crisscrossing Minnesota on county, not federal or state roads. I had absolutely no idea of where I was on the map. I used the sun to discern a general direction. (I now have a cheap compass affixed to the top of my tank bag.) What I discovered as I zigged and zagged from one road to another was an absolutely beautiful area of rich farmland. I think I passed through Lake Woebegone. Completely without any sense of bearing, I remember stopping, observing the landscape where a distant tractor was doing its thing and remarking to myself, "I was lost before but now I am found." It was a beautiful experience until my path brought me upon a road that was shown on the map. A sense of deflation descended as I rejoined the westward flow of traffic on some well-plotted road.
On a different occasion while heading north somewhere through New Mexico I got lost again. Realizing I did not know where I was, I know I started to smile. Sure enough, I soon found myself unexpectedly transiting a beautiful mountain range. That state properly deserves the designation, "Land of Enchantment;" it is not just one big dessert.
My fondest recollection of being lost occurred years ago on Prince Edward Island while traveling with my dear old buddy, Billy Hammond. We exited the ferry to the Island (which has since been replaced with a bridge) and seeing that all of the traffic was flowing in a straight line towards some central city, we hung a left onto a secondary. (How lost can one get on an island?) At some point we came upon a sign that announced we were in, of all places, Brockton! All we could discern of the alleged town was an intersection sporting three buildings: a church, a gas station and a general store - all closed. I took a photo of Bill standing in the middle of the intersection directing nonexisting traffic. What a memorable laugh we had!
As I contemplate taking my next extended trip, I have no idea of where I shall head nor exactly when I shall go. As a single retiree I can do that. The only initial decision I willl have to make is whether to head north, west, or south, and that may depend on that particular day's weather. I won't head east - one gets wet too soon. I will just go. But first I shall think about it. And think about it some more. And plan. And plan on making no plans.
I will trust in my great America to take care of me.