GNBR -Freedom’s Just Another Word…

From May 24 to (hopefully) October 4, I will live out of two large panniers, two small panniers, and one handlebar bag. The total volume is about 62 liters, slightly bigger than a large kitchen trash bag. I’ll be homeless, albeit in much better shape than most homeless, as I’ll have a credit card and a bike rather than a grocery cart. By the end of the trip, most of what I own will not only fit in the trash bag but will likely belong in the trash. Space is not the only issue. Weight makes every pedal stroke more difficult. With an estimated 6,600,000 pedal strokes between Victoria, BC, and St. John’s, Newfoundland, any extra ounce can be problematic! Accordingly, decisions about what to bring become critical. Maybe even life changing:).

For 25 years, my clothing needs were easily met. I woke up, put on blue “pajamas” and went to work. I loved wearing scrubs because they required no thought on how to dress. For that matter, I didn’t even have to wash them. In many ways, my pajama past is like my travel present. I don’t have to think about what I’m wearing each day and likely won’t get many chances to wash my clothes:). With so little in my panniers, I have no choices. Some might see having less as less free, but like Janis Joplin sang in “Me and Bobby McGee“, “freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose”. There is a unique freedom in being on a bike with nothing much to lose.

Of course, my lack of possessions is a choice, not a consequence. Then again, there are consequences as I choose what to take and what not to take. That reality creates some anxiety. How many days before I can wash clothes? Can I stand to wear the same underwear for 5 to 7 days? Can those around me stand it? Do I have the proper tools and spares to fix the most probable malfunctions? Or will I have to walk to the next town, maybe 50 miles away? How cold will it be at the top of the Grey’s Creek Pass at 2028 meters (I’m practicing my metric system to avoid someone in Canada identifying me as American, Eh?) when I cross the Purcell Mountains? And how hot will it be on the prairies of Saskatchewan?

Sure, I can buy things along the way, but many towns are so rural I’ll be lucky to find a convenience store or gas station. Of course, that also raises the question of food. I’ll be burning 6,000 – 8,000 calories per day. Can I find that in gas stations along the way? How many hot dogs and Twinkies would I need to eat? Is it possible to eat healthy out of a store that sells gas? Will they let me refill my Big Gulp in the next town?

Then there are the pre-ride health jitters. I went to the dentist, dermatologist, and primary care doctor in the last few weeks. I’ve been drilled on, frozen with liquid nitrogen, probed, poked, and my blood tested but does that make me ready? After my last ride, I had a headache – was it an aneurysm waiting to burst? Is my sniffle the first sign of pneumonia? Will I need to be hospitalized? What about that little twinge in my knee? Should I get a knee replacement before I leave on the trip? Is there any chance I’ve ridden enough to be ready to ride 65 – 80 miles/day, six days/week, for four months? What was I thinking? I’m a senior citizen, for heaven’s sake! Maybe this trip might be the door to the next life, although heaven might not be waiting for me.

The concerns and questions are all part of the unknown, which for me makes it more of an adventure. I like feeling some anxiety about the next corner, the next day, and that cloud gathering over the horizon. So much of our lives today are 72-degree homes, cars, and places of work. Our daily questions are usually nothing more than selections from various clothes, food, and entertainment choices. There’s no challenge. There’s no risk, other than a possible lack of likes on a social media page, which might be emotionally devastating for some, but has little impact on a life worth living. On a bike far from Instagram and Walmart, pedalling in the sun, rain, or even snow, decisions past (what to take or not) and present (turn left, right, or back) make for a life lived rather than simply photoed and posted.

I’m looking forward to living a life of freedom. Thursday I’m off to Victoria. On Friday, hopefully I can put my bike back together if it’s not be too messed up from the airline. Saturday, I pedal to Beacon Hill Park and the adventure. I’m terrified AND can’t wait.