Implicit Connections, Necessary Journeys

Dawn shows signs of an eventual takeover by rendering the streets and adjacent buildings in a gaunt gray. I pedal out of my apartment at 6:00 am with my sunglasses hanging from my long sleeve tee. Both my front and rear bike lights blink. I hear the occasional motor in the distance as I maneuver west, where the horizon is darkest, where a few remaining stars still wink. For the most part I am the only person on the road.

Another cyclist pedals furiously the opposite direction. Like me, he wears a backpack and tee. We give each other a faint wave. There is an unspoken and implicit connection between us, one that many cyclists have, and because of this connection, a simple wave speaks a thousand words.

He’s also bike commuting. Our directions have a 180 degree difference and yet the endpoint is the same.

Two days before, I biked along Gravois Greenway. A cyclist behind me pedaled up and rode beside me, directly to my left.

“Where are you commuting from?” He asked. I told him where I was biking from and where I was heading toward. We chatted for a bit as we rode. We talked about our commutes to work, the exhilaration of arriving at an office with beads of sweat hanging from one’s brow, of pedaling up to the front entrance of the office building, of moving a distance through exercise that everyone else would rather sit for.

We road a few more miles and then parted ways. We didn’t need to say what specifically our connection was. It was implicit. The hobby of cycling can run much deeper than simple exercise.

I’m packing my belongings and preparing myself mentally for my most intense bikepacking trip yet. It will take days. My sleeping bag, food, and tent are ready. I’ll pick up my rented bike in Virginia and head north, towards Pittsburgh.

More than 300 miles of cycling and camping is not everyone’s idea of a good time, especially in the summer. But it’s my idea of a good time.

What if you get lost?

All the better.

Away from offices and screens: that’s where I need to be.

On a gravel road, one mile at a time, northbound.