The ride is over, but long haul is not...

'The Route' page has just been updated with a general description of the Eastern sections of the Tour.  We calculate the total mileage from Spokane, WA at 3,212 (5,138 km).  If we tack on the first leg from Port Townsend, WA to Coeur d'Alene, Idaho in 2009, our coast-to-coast distance was 3,611 (5,777 km).  

During the coming months, we plan to complete a number of works of original art from our observations across the continent for the 'Rolling Home Art Show' opening in Portsmouth, New Hampshire on January 7, 2011.  In addition, we will be adding more poems and stories to the Blog from our notes, and collect additional road poems and songs in English, French and Kreyol.  These will be organized and posted on the Blog along with an album of the art on a separate page, so please keep checking in.

In addition, watch for a BEST OF TOUR posting coming soon. Categories will include, after great deliberation, our choice of:

• most incredibly beautiful road
• toughest climb
• most amazing story
• best bike shop
• 'the host with the most'
• best camp spot
• best B&B

Through these media and whatever additional ways we find, we hope to keep raising awareness and funds to help continue and expand the work of the Art Creation Foundation for Children in Jacmel, Haiti.

Finally, with the exhilaration of this amazing experience still fresh in our veins, we will be dreaming of and planning the Rolling Home Tour 2011 edition.  The idea will still be to combine cycling, art, poetry and at the same time promote a worthy cause. Please let us know your suggestions, keep biking and think about joining us next summer!

There's no place like home...

August 18, Bedford, NH west of Manchester...off to an early start from the Hill-Brook Motel, knowing that with less than 50 miles to go we would probably make it to the Atlantic before dusk. Filled with delightful anticipation, but also some trepidation about coming to the end of the tour.  These three months on the road have overflowed with rich experiences, the retuning of bodies, minds and imaginations set free.  A part of both of us wants to keep pedaling forever. Random lines from the Beatles' 'Two of Us'  pops into my head in high fidelity---'You and I have memories longer than the road that stretches out ahead...'  A vivid flashback to Ontario where the melody and words floated through the air as we rode down the main street of Port Dover looking for a place to stay. The rhythm finds its way into my legs and I am able to ratchet up the pace. We're going home.

In the middle of the steamy Manchester morning, we stop at an espresso shop that looks oddly out of place in this old New Hampshire mill town. Three tired-looking customers sit at a table on the sidewalk reading newspapers and smoking, taking little notice of us and our heavily loaded bikes. A beautiful, haunting melody drifts out of the dark interior. Are we in Egypt? Macedonia? Really so far from home? The owner, we learn, is from Bosnia, and the coffee is strong, sweet and cheap. And so on through the gray, depressing city streets until we reach the eastern side of town and the pastoral, hilly farmland until, finally, we cross the Lamprey River south of Newmarket and are almost home. We rush to unload the bikes and find the energy for the final push to the seacoast at Rye Harbor and are elated to see Eliot and Heather there with big smiles and two bottles of the best champagne this side of the Atlantic.  We are home at last.

Eliot and Heather with the bubbly

Ritual dipping of the wheel

Sunshine overhead, WSW wind at our backs, rolling home to the sea

In the hills just west of Manchester on Rte 47 we stop at the old meetinghouse in the village of Francestown to rest. It seems like we have been here before...maybe we have. The inscription on a stone bench next to the small church cemetery says, 'tarry awhile.' As we get closer to home, the prospect of arriving  is both comforting and unsettling.

None too soon

 Francestown, New Hampshire (60 miles west of home)

A spire to inspire 

straight paths amid

sprawling undergrowth

the tangled dry weeds and

gnarled roots

Riding through 

on an easterly path
to the sea and home

Travelers in these
strangely familiar hills
Under these stones
lie the bones of those
whose legacy rolls on,
rolls on in lines 
in destinations.

Almost home,
here we pause and
tarry awhile

Caution signs

Fair Haven, Vermont...

Caution signs in Amish country

After days, weeks and now three months of dodging careless (and sometimes enraged) drivers, passing the sad carcasses of too many wild animals in varying states of decay, and hearing the tragic stories of joggers and cyclists struck down by speeding, overpowered machines, it seems to me that respect for life is a state of mind. I thought of the followers of the Jain path in India who carry brooms to sweep the road ahead to prevent ending the lives of the tiniest animals, and wondered how many flying insects I had inadvertently collided with. I thought too of the gentle Amish people we had met, whose everyday practices so purely express their religious beliefs. Extreme, perhaps, to believe that all loss of life cn be prevented, but Jacques tells us that the practice of caring for others is fundamental to peace and happiness, and this is his dream for Haiti. If we could successfully cultivate this state of mind as part of educational processes, could there be just one composite caution sign? I imagine that the North American version might look something like this.

no

passing

narrow shoulder

blind corner rock falling

cattle roaming foxes chasing

cougars turtles dear elk children

crossing life is sacred slow

down save one

when you

can

Familiar signposts

Boonville, New York...

As we get ever closer to home, the signs of home are everywhere. License plates from Massachusetts and Vermont, yesterday a cluster of white birch trees and even a Red Sox bumper sticker brazenly displayed here in Yankee country. Sometimes the signs can take you to another continent altogether. As one of our fellow cyclists put it, the thought of reaching our destination is accompanied by mixed emotions. On the good days, one wants to keep riding on...