All Day Headwinds / Crying in tunnel

Heyo friends! New year same ol' Caleb --well not so much. I like to think that everyday I learn from my experiences and travels to become a better version of myself. Being on the road some six-months of the year isn't always sunshine and rainbows --occasionally the lessons are tough. This is a short but important one. 

Embracing a new form of life (or a new form of travel) isn’t always the easiest and no matter who you are there is adjustment period. We as humans, are creatures of habit (among other things). Stagnation is often the enemy of growth —the enemy of a life of happiness. Sadly this does not mean that change is not an easy thing.

I had only been living off my bike for three days and was already 300+ miles from where I had been previously been calling home —Grand Junction, CO. It is truly remarkable how much you will learn about yourself peddling 9 hours of the day. In those first three days of riding I crossed two state borders and two mountain ranges. Leaving the Uintah range of Utah I started cutting across the southwestern corner of Wyoming. The high-deserts of the western United States are a powerful and vast landscape. 

On this particular day my enemy was a strong and consistent headwind that zapped the pleasure out of every downhill that I was descending. My legs were numb, but somehow continued to turn over one after the other in a cyclical motion. Although my legs weren’t the only thing that was spinning. Relentless sun rays beat on my helmet and were in turn slowly cooking my brains. Dehydration and exhaustion were overcoming me. 

What am I doing here? My other friends are starting careers, relationships. Who signs up for this? No wonder you are out here alone. Why am I here? Is this a life of purpose? 

Woooosh! The wind quickly changed directions and a large gust nearly sent me off the faded asphalt. At least it was a momentary distraction from my own thoughts. 

I rolled into Mountain View, Wyoming around 2pm. I had yet to figure out how to keep my body hydrated while peddling all day and nearly stumbled into the local gas-station. A young mother scoffed at me and quickly pulled her child in to the next aisle to avoid walking past me (gotta love that American hospitality). I filled my water bottles in the fountain, bought another cliff bar then returned to my bike. 

Gotta make it to Evanston tonight. 

I had to link up and ride on the shoulder of i80 for the last 30 miles of my day. As if the headwind and sun weren’t enough of a struggle, now every other hillbilly cowboy thought it was hilarious to blow their obnoxious horns and “roll-coal,” as they passed me —leaving me coughing in a cloud of diesel smoke. Come on Evanston. 

The sun was setting almost as fast as the lifted trucks were speeding past me on the interstate. I had no choice but to find a place to call it a night. I guess you're not making it to Evanston tonight.  There were no structures or trees around so I threw my bike over a barb-wired fence and hobbled down into a ranchers underpass. I found a patch of dry dirt that wasn’t covered in cow crap and rolled out my foam sleeping pad. 

I noticed that I had a few bars at the far end of the tunnel and my phone wasn't quite dead, so I decided to give my mom a call. 

“Hey, where are you, are you ok?”

That was the end of it. As soon as I heard my moms voice I broke-down. This was no normal sob —tears were rolling down my wind-chapped cheeks and soaked my beard. It took at least 5 minutes of sobbing before I could pull it together enough to let my mom know where I was and that I was ok. 

After a few moments of reassuring words from my parents I hung up my phone and there I was —alone again. Its hard to put to words exactly what emotions I experienced that day, but I’m glad I visited that place. I was dirty, exhausted, homeless, and completely alone. This was a very pivotal moment in my understanding of myself and my world. 

What was making me unhappy? Why did I care that that mom scoffed and pulled her kid away from me? Why did I care if hicks where trying to run me off the road? Who cares what everyone else is doing with their lives? Why did I HAVE to make it to Evanston? Who am I trying to impress?  

My happiness (or my sadness) at the end of everyday is a choice. I chose to put myself in that place and the next day I chose to continue to peddle away from the familiar and the comfortable. Every single day for the following months I would sleep in a completely foreign location only having contact with strangers. My strength and confidence during that time evolved. I became comfortable with Caleb and truly started experiencing the world. No more worries.  

I need to take a moment to say thank you to all the people who have continued to be there for me through all the seemingly stupid and unusual choices I have made. Thank you to: my parents, Nash, John, Erin, Emily, the hombres. Thanks guys for always answering the phone when I call.   

Thats all the support system a dirtbag needs