Mountains, Redux

I wondered to myself today, if the West were the first thing settled, would we have bothered to live much on the East?

Now, don't get me wrong. I love the East for what it is: rolling green hills and a cultural Mecca. New York City will -- probably forever -- stand strong as the veritable "center of the universe" through which almost all culture filters, and most of New England will always stir up some romantic nostalgia in the hearts and minds of many Americans. That being said, however, this is because we have always known the American East to be like this. It was the first thing settled, and so it signifies some of the oldest and most important achievements of our culture. I only wondered this to myself because, as I rode through eastern Washington towards the Cascade mountains today, I couldn't help but notice the stark contrast between the wheat feilds of the high desert and the stunning beauty of the Cascade range. Even from the foothills and valleys near Omak, WA, I could see the snow-capped peaks of the Cascades looming sately in the distance. So I had to wonder, if pilgrims had landed and began to build in the verdure of western Washington state, would they have even wanted to leave their edenic landing and climb over mountains, only to come up to thousands of miles of semi-arid land before ever reaching the East. And would the phrase have become "go East, young man?" And what would that have done for centuries of writers, whose literary trope now might more signify a return to the womb than a becoming, a flourishing and a search for identity? I suppose, though, that the likeliest answer to all of this is that early Americans would of course have spread across the country, regardless of where they landed first. Is it not set forward even in the Biblical tales that man is never quite satisfied, even with a perfect Eden? So doubtless, these hypothetical settlers would have taken up their families and wagons and set off East, in search of land, opportunity, and some knowledge-bearing fruit.

As you may have gleaned, we've made it to Washington State and are very near the end of our journey. The trip has not been without its hang-ups, clearly, but we have pressed on and found ourselves on the cusp of completion, just one more mountain range away from Seattle. Looking back, it's hard to believe we've come this far on little more than the strength of our own conviction. We may have ridden a bus through most of Wyoming (the boring part) and we may have driven over a few miles of Interstate, but we've all gone on a journey far broader and more impacting than any of us thought initially. Many of our other Bike and Build riders on other trips have journeyed both longitudinally and latitudinally across this country, but few others have reached such heights of the spirit or plumbed such depths of the soul as we. We find ourselved intrepid travelers not only of the physical, but of the spiritual and emotional planes, as well. And as we climb and descend the physical mountains of the Catskills, the Tetons, or the Cascades, we find as well that we have been asked to explore both the peaks and valleys of our hearts, the limits of our strength and compassion.

Reaching Seattle and finally dipping our wheels in the waters of Puget Sound will grant, I believe, a great deal of closure to both myself and many others in this group. Even though nobody left the trip after we all said our goodbyes to Paige, it is clear that some of us have been struggling every morning to maintain a pleasant demeanor; quite clearly, many of us have had to push ourselves far beyond what we ever thought we could accomplish just to see the trip through to its end. All of this is, of course, perfectly reasonable. Paige was -- and still is -- an integral part of this group. That the whole trip didn't dissolve without her is a testament to the fact that she is still here, to some extent, floating in the ether that binds us all together. Together we form a living homage to her will, her wish, and her passion for the Bike & Build cause. Even if every day is a struggle; even if getting on our bikes is a source of great anxiety, we still will push through. And the trip is not over yet. There are still some breathtaking views to be witnessed, some dauting mountains to be conquered, and some exhilarating descents to be experienced. All this to reach the cool (i.e. frigid) waters of Puget sound and to dip our wheels, sealing in this experience and dissipating our fears towards the bottom of the sea.

Yet I still miss the smiling faces and the boundless excitement that each new day brought to our group at the start of the trip. I miss the unrequited joy that filtered down through each rider at the end of each day, our bellies full of churchlady casserole and chocolate chip cookies. I understand that in the wake of a death, the world can seem as dry and unforgiving as the high desert we rode through this morning. But I also know that there is happiness yet to be found, through the river valley and high up the verdant mountainside.