I found my way home.

This must be Florida; the swelter clings
to windows, begging to find
relief inside.

Home on my patio I'm mugged by subtropic miasma; yesterdays rain rises in today's sun as my backyard jungle is a cacophony of  cicadas, overgrowth blocking all horizon, its leaves rustling softly in the moist breeze. Lizards dart, squirrels chatter, and my dogs romp after them as well as imagined critters, just as before and always. How is it Tuesday in Florida, when I left Oregon Sunday? Ah, the "red-eye" from Portland robbed me of my hard earned hours and redeemed my miles. Bicycling westward warps of my sense of time. Another fascination I have is with sundials, rooted in my interest in celestial navigation. Our daily progress toward the setting sun offered a perspective of relationships between time and distance that I was very aware of as we progressed; the days kept getting longer, for the sun set and rose later, yielding a precious bonus hour of sleep as we changed time zones twice from my starting point in Chicago. After flying all night I came home and slept all of Monday, rising for to eat steak and cake during the evening hours, and then sleeping well into this Tuesday.

So long ago and far away seem our last days of riding. I prefer to write when the impression of the trek is as fresh on my psyche as the impression of the bicycle seat is on my butt; the last days were too full to gather on this page. I must do it now before it is washed into this strange familiarity.

I found Bigfoot's bike.

Beware of bears in the berry patch.

We pedaled from Packwood to Longview WA with a net loss of 1000 feet that included enough climbing to yield 3,300 of change through the 95 miles. I rode alone near the end of the pack. I took it pretty easy during most of the trip this year, especially nearing the end. Along the way I came by Alice and Justin picking the abundant blackberries found in this region, and later found out Justin was harvesting to make pies. Later as I came across Justin picking again I stopped to join him, enjoying what I plucked that wasn't offered to the bucket.

We were guests of Father's House Church in the commercial district in downtown. Unfortunately Dan's bicycle was snatched from where it was parked just inside the door, for as in any metropolitan area this can happen. We had grown complacent in our mobile utopia, for in the world we were visiting we felt a security foreign to reality. Fortunately our support driver Tom had his bicycle along and Dan was able to finish the last ride with that. After dinner we had warm blackberry pie and ice cream, with a bit of pie left over for breakfast the next morning.

Emotion began simmering with the morning's coffee. The last day of the ride lends itself to sentimentality, especially for those who started on the beach of Atlantic City. We received instructions for the day that included a stopping point prior to finish so that we could ride en masse as we approached the Pacific. As always, on cue we cheered "Oyee" before departing, and I noticed a bit of sniffling and choking after the final cheer. Spirits were high as hearts sank.

The road rolled toward the end, again lined with blackberries I had to stop and gorge myself on. It was to be a short day, just over 50 miles. "Short" is relative, just like hills are to mountains. I found the climbs to be inconsequential, where just weeks before they would have been notable. We gathered at the assigned location, and took a casual ride to the end. I must say we are an impressive sight when grouped so.

Cresting into the Pacific

Our last turn was made down Sunset Lane and a couple of miles remained. We
 rolled on, and suddenly crested a hill where the Pacific Ocean came into view.  There were numerous cars parked there, with a small crowd on the beach cheering us onto the shore. It was no race; instead as the sand softened riders dismounted to carry or walk their bikes to the surf. The celebration began as the ride officially ended. Some ran into the surf while others were swamped by it's teasing the shore. I enjoyed a long tearful hug from my daughter Cherisse, who seemed inspired by the goings-on. We then assembled for a group photo, and then circled up for final prayer and devotion in song led by Gerry.

It ain't over 'til the Scotstrailian sings.

After all that, we had ten miles to ride to our host destination where Mehai's family had prepared our feast. Mehai is a sausage maker extraordinaire, and his extended Romanian family provided the side dishes and deserts. It was a great finish before the bittersweet farewells began.

It's hard to say goodbye. It can
cause back trouble.

Hugs, kisses, wishes, promises and gifts were distributed as we dwindled. Bikes were disassembled and boxed. Some departed while the rest of us spent one more night. Cherisse drove us into town for a few last minute gifts and shopping before retiring. Others of the group traveled by way of our support van. Having spent so much time in isolated towns over the past months the energy of this tourist town seemed a bit overwhelming and exhausting for some, while others relished the nightlife, choosing to celebrate a bit more.

Sunday came and we went. Cherisse, Susan and I traveled to the

Arron, Susan, Me, and Grampy John
at the airport.

airport 3 hours away, while others took the van. We had a bit of reunion there as some waited for our late flights. First John left, then Susan, and fortunately Arron had a flight before mine so he had to let go. I have to let go, and despite my best intentions am having trouble. It will take some time to readjust, but I've been through this before so know the best way to do that is stay active with volunteering. First, I'm going to Disney World and see how they've done without me. I have my church to return to, along with another fellowship; there are my oldsters at Emeritus Assisted living I will resume playing bingo with, and then continued efforts with the Fuller Center for Housing of Central Florida, Disney VoluntEARS, and the Westgate Foundation to keep me occupied. If nothing else I can go for a bike ride.