"It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to."  The Hobbit--J.R.R Tolkien

"The first time I set out to bicycle across America over 40 years ago, teaching colleagues said that I was crazy, I would get killed, I faced a terrible fate.  They also said that to Captain Cook, Nelly Bly, Sally Ride, Edmund Hillary, John Muir, Jack London, Neil Armstrong, Amelia Earhart, Junko Tabei, Simone Biles, Gertrude Belle and too many more to list.

"There's no question, a cyclist faces the daily danger of a car or truck running over them.  Even with my flags, flashing strobes and bright clothing, I face danger.  Yet, I find that the risks of adventure supersede comfort, security and redundant daily life. You may always remain safe by staying home, but you will never open your tent flaps to see Mt. Everest at dawn, or Mt. Denali at dusk, or the Galapagos Islands or hike the Inca Trail, along with a thousand other moments you created in your life.  Countless people, rich and poor, die early in life, mid-life, late-life and whenever from the accidents of fate.

"I must move toward my own destiny created by my choices, and, if I don't make it, at the minimum—I gave life my best efforts.  I busted into each day with optimism and a sense of enthusiasm, joy and excellence. I stand with Frodo to get swept away with adventure."  FHW

David and I stood at the sign showing we reached the top of Logan's Pass.  

Standing there, we raised our hands in triumph with David exclaiming, "It's great to be us!"

"Got that right, dude," I said.

"Well, let's try to ride out of this New York City parking lot," I said. "We can snap more pictures on the way down.  That canyon on the east side of the pass feels like it's more than a mile down and covered in green trees of all makes.  And the waterfalls, wow, just incredible.  We're in for a heck of a ride and it's all gravity-powered."

"Thank goodness," said David. "I was ready to push the last part of that pass. I'm going to sleep like a baby tonight."

For the next two hours, we stopped at every water fall, every wildflower patch, especially Pink Fireweed, every 'scenic view' spot on "The Road Going to the Sun."  The highway passed massive snow fields over 40 feet high along the road.  

At one cascade, the whitewater ripped over the gray rock, framed by green tundra grass, and Nature garnished it with white-purple-yellow mountain flowers.  As we stood in front of it for pictures, the icy cold air from the frigid water acted like an air conditioner.  

Above us, white mountain goats scrambled up vertical cliffs.  Their nimble offspring followed each parent. Above them, white-tailed hawks soared over the tundra looking for breakfast.  Across the roadway, chipmunks scrambled for their lives with the traffic. In the woods, every creature carried on its life just like we carried on our lives on bicycles, or cars or busses.

The mountain man John Muir said, "How many hearts with warm, red blood in them are beating under cover of the woods, and how many teeth and eyes are shining?  A multitude of animal people, intimately related to us, but of whose lives we know almost nothing, are as busy about their own affairs as we are about ours."  1898, Yosemite 

Each time we dismounted from our bikes, yet another 'angle' view of Glacier National Park presented itself. Looking back up the pass road, it felt so incredibly beautiful not only in vision, but a spiritual aspect that seems to seep into our bodies.

"Never have I seen something that affected me with such spiritual penetration," said David.  "Riding this bike through this natural wonder is so much meaningful than driving a car. I feel all of Nature thriving throughout my own body.  Darnedest feeling in my spirit.  It's like backpacking in the "high country", but I'm on wheels."

"Sure moves into your cells," I said.

As we followed the serpentine curves down the eastern side of the pass, the road entered thickening wilderness. We rolled the bikes around one curve until we stopped at the Jackson Glacier.  Sadly, 100 years ago, over 125 glaciers thrived in the park. Today, less than 25 remain.  Also, one drivers tossed cigarette five years ago, burned 10,000 acres of wilderness. It will take 30 years for the forests to return.

As to the vanishing glaciers, yes, half of American citizens don't understand catastrophic climate destabilization, and the other half scream at the top of their lungs. Whatever we face in the 21stcentury with the human horde, Mother Nature continues signaling us about our irresponsible choices, whether it be 5.25 trillion pieces rolling around in our oceans or trillions of tons of carbon footprint exhausting into our biosphere along with 70,000 chemicals—at some point, we must deal with the results.

One of things that I enjoy on a bicycle tour: I am joyfully engaged every second of the day.  The world is breaking someone else's heart, and there's nothing I can do about it.  Everyone listens to the 'bad' news 24/7 on the television.  Not me!  I'm "happy-out-of-my-mind" all day long.  Cycling reduces my life to sleeping, enticing eating, pedaling, making camp, breaking camp, glorious showers, talking with people, sharing the road with David, making comments about the weather or scenery, and swatting a few mosquitos.

And food, it's never the same on a bicycle tour.  Your taste buds do summersaults on your tongue from the articulated tastes of different foods. You feel ravenous, which causes a transformation in your hunger pangs.  An apple so sweet. A pear so delicious.  A cherry to live for!  The juicy nirvana of a watermelon! A hot meal to warm your soul. When it comes to food on tour, nothing can duplicate the joy of devouring your favorite fruits or cooked meals.  

Some call it "satori" or "The perfect moment."  That "moment" equates to "present moment living."  No tomorrow, no yesterday. The only thing that counts: today, this second!

"How lucky are we to see this much beauty in one day?" said David.

"It's great to be us," I said.

"Sad to read about all the disappearing glaciers," said David. "Unfortunately, it's the reality of our time on this planet.  Sure hope humanity comes up with some solutions."

"Yup," I said.  

The road snaked down along St. Mary's Lake until we reached "Going to the Sun Campground."  We pitched our tents in the hiker-biker section.  

"Let's eat at the restaurant," David said. "I'm pretty hungry."

We walked over to the restaurant looking out at the lake.  We dined on past-primavera, bean soup and delicious bread. Oh, a  beer to wash it down.

"Live your life by a compass, not a clock."

-Stephen Covey

David Christie, Frosty Wooldridge, summer 2019, Continental Divide Ride, Canada to Mexico