brompton

Basking in a fleeting magic

Leave a Comment / Uncategorized / By / September 29, 2020 / , , , ,

As a hobby photographer, I have been enjoying playing with golden hour light since this past spring. Early in the pandemic restrictions, I would walk five blocks to what I thought was my “boring” neighborhood park, to enjoy some fresh air and outdoor time. But the sloth of the lockdown held a gift for me: the first few weeks of severely reduced working hours had me, mostly happily, staying in bed until 1 or 2:00 in the afternoon more often than not. By the time I had showered, eaten, and decided to go to the park, the light would be starting to turn. And it was absolutely enthralling.

There is a Japanese phrase, mono no aware (“the quietly elated, bittersweet feeling of having been witness to the dazzling circus of life – knowing that none of it can last”) that describes the “extra” beauty of an aspect of nature that arises when we know that the beauty is fleeting.

This could aptly describe the end of summer, the end of a flower’s blossom, the end of a day … so I think that the golden hour, while visually stunning in its own right, also benefits from this concept.

Today was a spectacular Portland September day. The high temperature was around 80 degrees (27 C), and after work I spontaneously decided to bike to one of my favorite food carts, Uncle Tsang’s Kitchen. The ride took me along the beautiful Springwater Corridor. After a wonderful outdoor meal of vegan Chinese food, I headed home a different way, through the Westmoreland neighborhood. As I was rounding the bend at Bybee Blvd, I glanced to my left and was visually struck—not for the first time—that there was a beautiful overlook of the Willamette River just there, and there seemed to be some benches. Tonight, I finally paused long enough to check, and sure enough: I saw three picnic tables, two of which were occupied, and the last one just waiting for me.

As I parked my bike next to the table, I was overcome with the beauty of the light. It was about 6:30 pm, and the sun was dropping in the sky, saturating all the river trees with a golden glow. I marveled at it, and began photographing somewhat obsessively, as is my wont.

Finally, I relaxed and simply sat at the table, soaking in the moment. After thirty years in Portland, to sit in this spot was another first for me this summer. The temperature was perfect. The light was perfect. This wonderful dream of a bike tour hummed in the back of my head.

And… I realized that a big part of my motivation for taking this trip is to maximize the golden hours in my life. I hadn’t thought of it in quite those terms, but that is what I’m dreaming of: to follow the light and the warm, pleasant weather all around the continent. Of course I know I will encounter days—probably stretches of weeks—that will deviate drastically from these ideal conditions. But… I hope that on most days of this tour, I will greet the golden hour tired but satisfied, and I will be able to sit—alone or with friends, new or old—outdoors, in some new spot every few days, feeling the warmth of the lowering sun and basking in its magical glow.

This summer is drawing to a close in Portland. If all goes according to plan, by this time next year I will be in southern Oregon or northern California. Tonight, as the evening ebbed, the summer ebbed, the year ebbed, my time in Portland ebbed… I savored the mono no aware.

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Overcoming fears, finding new challenges

Leave a Comment / Uncategorized / By / September 7, 2020 / , , , , ,

I am finding that blogging about my fears seems to help dissipate them. I love this, and hope it continues. (I recommend some version of this to anyone reading: if you don’t have a blog, maybe post about some of your fears on Facebook, or tell them to friends. See if it helps!)

Case in point: Yesterday I wrote that I had a hard time getting myself out of the house in time to go to the nature park I had hoped to visit in West Linn. While that ended up turning out fine, because I chose to make a new plan and do some “hill work,” and enjoy beautiful views on Mt. Tabor instead… I am pleased to report that today, after my livestreaming concert ended at about 2:45, I got everything together in time to head out the door at 3:15, bound for the park. (Mary S. Young State Park, if you’re in the Portland area and want to visit yourself.)

I had a lovely ride, and found the park to be incredibly beautiful, with forested trails and river access. I decided to take a different route on the way back, so that I could do a bit more hill work and enjoy more beautiful views in the Tryon Creek Natural Area, as well as the River View Cemetery. The views and time spent in the perfect-temperature September evening were definitely worth it… but I did find myself facing another, now-familiar concern: How do people build up the stamina to handle all the distance and hills I will need to cover on my trip? How will I be able to do this? I estimate that I climbed less than 500’ on this trip today. I covered about 30 miles total in my loop. And I didn’t have any luggage or gear, except what I carried in my small backpack. On my nationwide journey, I expect to travel probably an average of 50 miles per day, and sometimes as much as 60. Elevation gains could reach 3000-4000’ on any given day. And I expect to have either a trailer with a suitcase, or possibly some version of packs rigged directly onto the front and rear of the bike. (I’ll figure out such logistics later, maybe next summer.)

How do people do this? It seems really challenging. I know people do it. How do they do it? I’m in decent shape, I think, and at 47, frankly I’m on the low end of the typical age for Brompton touring folks. 

So… I guess if they can do it, so can I? I sure hope so. Maybe after a week or so of putting in the miles every day, I’ll just get used to it? All I can do is hope so, and continue to give myself local excursions to practice between now and then. Maybe next summer I can begin “training” in earnest, with more and longer trips, and carrying a load.

One day at a time, eh?

Scaling my first “mountain”

Leave a Comment / Uncategorized / By / September 6, 2020 / , , , , , ,

Today, I got in the saddle on the Brompton for the first time in a while. It was time to begin “training” for this dream! 

The bike had had its first-ever tuneup the other day, so the ride was extra smooth. I headed up Mt. Tabor, the extinct-volcano-turned-city-park in my neighborhood. I was pleased to discover that the gears—which go lower than those on my “everyday bike” 1979 Free Spirit—made the climb feel entirely reasonable. When I got to the summit, I found many other bicyclists and pedestrians—car parking is partway up the mountain, so one must use human power to get to the top—enjoying the beautiful late-summer, late-afternoon sun. I imagined how many beautiful public parks I will encounter all across the country when I make this journey.

It’s early in my visioning stage, and I’m still brimming with excitement. Yet, there are always internal obstacles to be aware of, and to do my best to navigate consciously. For me, today—as with many days in most of my life—I struggled to find the motivation to get going. I was “attending” a live-streamed musical event on my computer until 2:30, but I had told myself yesterday that I would get out and get on my bike no later than 3:00. In fact, I had originally had another destination in mind: a suburban park that would probably take me about two hours to reach. Given the waning daylight this time of the season, I thought I should leave by 3:00 to make sure I had enough time to enjoy it, and to enjoy the return trip during daylight.

But for two hours today, I found myself feeling antsy, and finding excuses not to leave the house. I checked Facebook. Then Instagram. Then Facebook again. I had a snack. Then another snack. Then checked FB and IG again. I felt my own familiar frustration with myself: “Are you going to do this again? Are you going to sabotage your perfectly reasonable plan? Why do you do this to yourself?”

Finally, at 5:00, I was disappointed with myself for having apparently indeed sabotaged my plan. But, I realized that not all was lost, and I could enjoy a closer destination. I put down the laptop and phone, and headed out the door… and thus began a lovely couple of hours.

And, maybe I could do my original plan tomorrow.

Does this sound familiar to you? Do you find yourself sabotaging own your plans at times? When you do, are you able to be flexible, and take some smaller, more manageable steps if the original plan feels too scary at first? I am appreciating my willingness to be gentle and patient with myself at this time. It’s a stressful time in the world. And, I have time to prepare for this journey. I can do this.

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