“I climbed a mountain then turned around… saw my reflection in the snow covered hills till the landslide brought me down”
Life for me is like a mountain. I’m always climbing reaching for a life that means something. For now spending my time riding bikes while alternating between college every fall is the ultimate enjoyment. Sure, it’s tough. Rewards are far and few in-between but does that matter…
Riding bikes in the lovely winter out here in Georgia is the life. In these moments life seems easy everything is carefree…you simply ride. Riding is enough. My mind is to busy to calculate…pressing through the pain as as the group surges along. In these moments I’m to busy to acknowledge life outside of cycling despite the warnings whispers. I hear a lot of ‘there’s no money in cycling’ …
Finish your degree get a real job… thoughts like these add to the pile of woes pressing the carefree moments down…submerging me.
Instances like these cause me to dig deep to clutch the most important thoughts.
First of all I was never worried about money. I have the rest of my life to spend in the office plugging away, calculating numbers,earning for the weekends.
Cycling goals may not be forever but for now I choose this life. These goals may change in a year or two but I’ll be dammed if I’ll let others opinions dictate my life.
I simply want to live life. Youth is not eternal I choose to spend mine wisely.
I love riding bikes and getting to meet beautiful people all at different points in life striving for their goals or dreams.
You never know maybe along the way I might just find my calling. Maybe it won’t be bikes. If that falls through you might just see me backpacking across Europe putting that Irish passport to use. 😉 But I’ll never know I guess I’ll just have to keep meandering along.
Somewhere on Lancaster Campus Located in the United Kingdom I found myself situated on a suitcase loaded full of bike gear waiting for my much-anticipated car ride to appear. I would be traveling with the University club for a weekend getaway to Scotland. A typical collegiate cycling trip in the United States was usually overrun by a horde of guys or in this case “boys” sorry Lancaster peeps if your reading this…if your 21 and under your classified as boys”.
My first mountain biking trip from the University to Scotland was nothing far from the usual. I see a car roll around the corner loaded to the brim with mountain bikes and camping gear.
Yes, that’s my ticket a typical collegiate getaway is never complete without a cozy fitting transportation. Despite the rearrangement of doing our best to play the shuffle game I found myself situated with a bag between my legs on the floor squished into the back along with two pleasant British mountain biking dudes. As usual with groups we were running late… according to the others we would soon make up the time with the current dude situated in the drivers seat.
I soon learned that to be more than true as we turned off the main free way heading into the hills we were hitting the straight always at nothing short of 90 mph in the pitch black on skinny European roads. If your in the US some of these roads could almost be considered one ways. Somehow despite the overloaded car we managed to make air on multiple occasions. And the corners were nothing short of criterium racing pro1/2 style.
I was clenching the corners of the car with a rather rigid grip as we zipped
Every time we would hang a hard left I could most definitely feel the left tire undulating under the weight. I could only pray it wasn’t my time to leave this planet so soon…
And the long blonde haired pony tail guy named Hamish seemed to have a confidence of driving that was very comforting.
Almost three hours into the trip with only one to go and the shared cookies earlier had somehow managed to switch places with my dinner which should have been almost completely digested… Jeesh another typical day with a group of bike loving fools…all we know how to do is hammer hammer hammer…
At this point I couldn’t even bring myself to think about the cliffs situated on every other corner as we wound our way deeper and deeper into the thick of Scotland.
Yes we arrived alive! I plan to come back eventually…maybe not in the same car though 😉
Drifting off in between sleeplessness I could swear I’m on a flight to another country millions of miles away. Is that a dream…as a shaking begins to jostle me into a alert stage I hear the call for seat belts to be fastened and now I surely know it is real. I look across at my fellow passengers and see the brightly lit sunrise beginning to peak up over the city we shall shortly be landing in Manchester, United Kingdom.
After a rather rough landing I find myself off the airplane walking toward a bus which would then shuttle us to the airport security check through. If your rather in doubt of where your headed be sure to follow the crowd which in most cases brings to the correct destination. As I round the corner I say goodbye to the line of American Passport holders with my Irish passport in hand…”suckers”, perks of being a Irish Citizen as well as American. Passing through the checkpoint I head to luggage claim where the shits about to get real.
I see my luggage and my two bike bags, WOOOO my baby made it! I have now grabbed all bags off of the carousel and have proceeded to grab a trolley for my luggage, but to my dismay the trolley will not pull out…at this point I am severely yanking on the trolley when I look over and watch another person casually pull one out by inserting a pound. I have all my luggage surrounding me but no way to transport it across the station to the shuttle waiting to pick me up. Alright now I am thinking am I the only idiot that doesn’t think ahead…why didn’t I have cash. I spot a cash machine to the left that exchanges money. The machine is in line of site so if I leave my baggage I would still be able to keep a eye on it. I go over and insert card after card without success; now I am really bewildered. I had planned this tripped months ahead but failed to think over a simple scenario like this one. As I am inserting another card a nice person asks me if I needed one of these handing me a pound. Which at this moment seemed like a million dollars. I was ecstatic thanking the kind lady and proceeded to grab the trolley and collect the gaggle of bags.
Tip: Always pull out money when traveling abroad incase your card has problems (If your like me you will probably read tips like this but fail to implement said tip. Just know you are destined to learn lessons the hard way.
I began my struggle with finding the right direction after asking numerous people then I am on my trek across the skywalk with my trolley piled high. The bags are towering higher than my height of 5,6 and I am constantly craning my neck right then left then right…as I trek down the walk way. I can only think that I have at least over 150 lbs situated on the trolley who’s wheels seem to be unfortunately wining from the weight. After asking yet another person I take yet another elevator to walk around the corner to see the most beautiful site welcome Lancaster shuttle.
Tip 2: If your university says you are only allowed two bags on the shuttle completely ignore these instructions if you’re a cyclist who loves to bike. If you’re a normal person with excessive baggage problems or a bag entirely devoted to shoes then by all means you should be governed by these limits. I however only have two bags.
My two bike bags are not included in this count right? I swear I’m not one of those dramatic people I just really really love to bike madam.
The nice young lady retires her demand of only two bags and finally gives in after my persuasive rant. Either that or her volunteer leadership position as a abroad coordinator wasn’t enough for these types of problems; either way I found myself on the bus with plenty of room heading for my new home in a different country with no cash at my disposal, jetlagged, and entirely too tired to be dealing with any more problems in my current mind state. I should have been soundly asleep in my bed in the United States with a time read of 4:00 AM but instead I had jumped 6 hours ahead to 9.30 am completely ignoring any sleep regulation and my adrenaline of new…new…new was slowly starting to wear off leaving a completely disoriented, braindead 23 year old.
First week of pictures upon my arrival
I was almost completely incapacitated the entire ride to Lancaster past check in then into my room finally closing the door along with my eyes.
When I had reawakened the first thing that grips my mind of course is my unopened bike bag. Having fully regained my cognitive abilities I began the struggle of rebuilding my bike.
Everything seemed to be going well except for the fact that my stem cap and bolt that I am furiously trying to screw in continues to turn with the top cap. As usual I figure I messed up somewhere along the way. So of course I resort to google and find the first bike shop located a couple miles away. Google to the rescue what would we do without google.
The only bad thing about my bike was that it had no turning capabilities. The good thing is you can still ride it straight of course. There was no way I was planning to walk a perfect rollable bike. I tentatively started out at a few miles slowly winding the mph up while pedaling. Lucky no incidents happened I just kept getting disorientating feeling to go to the right side of the road on every turn it was rather disturbing. The simplest thing as turning your head over your shoulder to look left and then realizing your are on the left side and looking over the right shoulder would be the appropriate course of action. After arriving safely and some discussion with the mechanic we came to the conclusion that the inflator piece had slipped down within the fork forcing us to turn the bike upside down and knock it out. Sorting this problem out and tightening the cap we run into rather stiff staring in the head tube from side to side. Apparently I had managed to put one of the bearings on upside down. Jeeez wonder how that happened…
After asking the nice gentleman a million or so questions I managed to get the lowdown on the group rides in the area while the bike problem was successfully solved. Thanking the gentleman as I was leaving I managed to get a “CHEERS” in response. Little did I know this puzzling response would evolve into a habit of mine after much interaction with the lovely british people. The most annoying thing I learned people greet you with when they see you is “you alright”. No matter how many times people greet me with “you alright” it still implies to me that I am unwell or do not look as I normally look. Your implying to me that I do not look OK British people. Alight enough of my rant so I have made my way home and am settling in at Lancaster University. Prepare to look for another post about my first adventure mountain biking in Scotland. Which managed to replace various other places as my favorite place in the World. If I would to describe Scotland I would so with words like
A home away from home
These words still can not do it justice. There are some places in the world that you simply feel you belong and will always call your name.