Carla's Crappy Bike

When I arrived in Yarmouth on Thursday July 17th, I could have never imagined the course of wonderful, magical, and sometimes painful events that lay ahead for me. So often in my life I've been in situations where I've acted primarily with my heart, and not always with my head; my intentions, I believe are always good, but at a glance from the outside, it's not uncommon for the observer's eyebrows to tend to head north. Crazy-Impulsive-Impetuous-Bob. That's me!

Here's the deal...one of the principal reasons I began this odyssey was for Love. I felt that "she", whoever she was, was not in Brattleboro. I admit to being a hopeless romantic, that's one of my downfalls (or redeeming qualities, however you look at it). As much as I've tried to find the right fit for me in a life partner, I've managed to end up alone. I have wonderful friends, a great family, plenty in life that gives me pleasure, but still there's this hole in my gut that yearns to be filled. I'm certain that this yearning is what kept me hanging around Yarmouth for so long. I thought I caught sight of "her" the day I arrived, then once or twice after realizing that first glimpse was not meant to be. Then along came, let's just call her M. She was one of Carla's Couch Surfers, and I was charged with the task of acting as surrogate host while Carla was surfing in the States, not a problem - glad to do it. M is from Germany. It's actually Dr. L, if truth be told, extremely well educated, a lively (sometimes childlike) spirit, hauntingly beautiful, and often painfully direct. Somehow the combination captivated me.

If I had this last week to do over, I wouldn't really change much, except possibly the timing. The explosion that marked the beginning of my relationship with Marietta was the force that propelled me from life in Yarmouth five days ahead of schedule. My decision to leave was already well known, this just pushed the date up and made the departure more of an exodus than a fond farewell. Leaving my friends there in that way was a mistake, even for the prospect of finally discovering that love I'd been seeking. There was a better way, but that "Bob" that I described earlier was unable to see it. All he felt was hurt and confusions, and all he could focus on was what he saw ahead, not what he was leaving in his wake. That Bob, and this one, is truly sorry for that.

So, now to the happy resolution. Fast forward to Tuesday morning. The "Last Campsite" photo was in the camera, the was bike loaded for the road, and I headed west to the Cat. We "sailed" at 4pm. The ride out of Nova Scotia was as difficult as the ride into Nova Scotia was easy. I battled a constant headwind from the start, but still managed to average 20kph. When I stopped by to gather up some of Marietta's belongings, Carla was there to greet me at the door. I hadn't checked email in two days and missed the part where tensions between us had softened, I was still hurt and confused. When something happens that puts a rift in a relationship (a couple such incidents have occurred for me on this journey), it's impossible to heal the hurt unless you're talking. Well, we talked. Finally, we talked. It's OK now. I think we understand each other better as a result of having everything thrown up into the air for a time. When the pieces finally come back down, it's more real if you have a better understanding of where most of those pieces belong. I think we both do now.

As I mentioned, the ride back to Yarmouth was hard, the ride out of Yarmouth was hard. The ride in between those two important days, was hard too. I'm tired, it occurred to me especially on the ride back, I'm just tired. I said it before, one day "Forrest just stopped running". Well, as I rode in to Yarmouth and the mile marker's on the 103 counted down from 58 to 1, then to the end of the 103, I knew this was the day that "Bob just stopped riding". I wasn't sure how, I just had the sense that this was the day, the mile (actually kilometer) markers foretold it. After Carla and I worked through our difficulties, I told her of my plans to hitchhike from Bar Harbor to Bangor where Marietta had reserved a rental car, and Carla said "hey, why don't I just buy your bike".

Every day that Carla and I set our alarms early to get on our bikes, each day a different route so I'd get to know more of Yarmouth, I insisted that Carla ride my bike and I take the crappy one. Don't ask me how much she paid, but I will tell you she got a GREAT deal! She even paid me in American dollars, not that funny Canadian money you guys use up north (big wink). I'm using the money to pay for the Cat ride and for food.

When I think about Yarmouth, I'll think about Carly rolling out of bed, putting on the goofy helmet with the big visor, and heading out on my lucky adventure bicycle, number two. I'll imagine her riding the Chebogue Loop, and smile.

From Bar Harbor, here in the States...

Cheers!

~B