Today the plan was for the cycling crew to meet up at Marco Polo International Airport in Venice where our guides, Henry and Luc of Velorizons would meet us and drive us to our home base for the first few days in Alleghe. Several riders arrived a day early for some touring in Venice, one had been in Rome, while the rest flew various routes to Venice. I had flown into Barcelona the day before and took an early flight to Italy.
Despite the varying itineraries, everyone’s travel plans went smoothly and we met up on schedule.
Henry introducing himself to our group
The ride up to Alleghe was a few hours but went quickly, especially for those of us who took a nap. The view from the parking lot was already stunning.
After checking in we were eager to set up the bikes and get a first ride in.
Yes, Ellen, you’re in the picture
Jeff planned a 15 mile loop with 2200 ft of climbing to help us shake off the cobwebs. Unfortunately, about a third the way up the climb the road was closed, so we had to turn back.
Shortly after we realized the road was closed and Steve had a spectacular slow-motion fall off his bike.More to come
Back at the hotel, we cleaned up for dinner and had a toast to more riding to come.
I’m really looking forward to this trip to Italy, and not just for the cycling. While I’m not Stanley Tucci and not Italian on both sides (IYKYK), my mother’s side of the family all came from Italy, and I’ve always felt a strong connection to my Italian heritage. When asked by friends about my heritage, I usually said, “I’m half-Italian” and glossed over the (to me) less interesting fact that my dad’s side was of English descent. During COVID, to stay sane, I mapped my ancestry, and it was only then I realized how interesting my father’s side of the family was. We arrived from Sussex, England back in 1637! Not quite on the Mayflower, but pretty close.
As for my mother’s family, my great-grandfather Guiseppe Grella was born in Sturno, near Campania, in 1877. He emigrated to the United States in 1893, arriving in New York, before settling in Boston. He naturalized in 1902, married my great-grandmother Concetta Filomena Tocabaccio in 1905, and moved into my hometown, Newton, Massachusetts. Concetta was also from Campania, born in Benevento in 1880, came to America in 1903. My grandfather, Angelo Michelo Grella, one of 11 children, was born in 1913. Meanwhile, my other great-grandfather, Antonio Carmine Leone, was born in 1886, in San Donato Val di Camino in the province of Frosinone, about 100 miles northwest of Sturno. Antonio arrived in the New World in 1904 and settled in the Boston area. There, he met my other great-grandmother, Elisabetta Commito, who was from Vittorito, L’Aquila, Abruzzo, Italy. They had three children, one of whom was Fiorina (Florence), my grandmother.
Grampa Angelo and Nana Flo finally met and married in 1937, and had five children, including Mom. They lived in half of a two-family house with only two bedrooms. The three girls shared a bed upstairs next to Nana and Grampa. The two boys, my uncles, slept in the attic of the other half of the two-family house above my Uncle Danny and Aunt Annie’s family.
Mom grew up in a predominantly Italian section of the Newton called Nonantum, but which the locals called The Lake, because it was a section of Town that had at one time been Silver Lake before it was filled in with land excavated during the creation of Storrow Drive. Many waves of immigrants came settled in the village over the years, including Jewish, Italian, Irish, and Roma peoples. In time, though, the Italian-Americans became the largest population, and we even had Italian flags striping the streets instead of yellow lines. And, each July we had the Feast of Saint Mary of Carmen, with parades, fireworks, and a carnival.
We even had our own local dialect, with much of it derived from the Romany language.
mush (pronounced to rhyme with push) — “guy”, can be positive or negative depending on context
wicked pissa, mush!–“extremely awesome, guy”
chabby — “boy child”, possibly related to the Romany word chavvie = “boy”
chor’d — “stolen”, possibly related to the Romany word choro = “thief”
chuccuo — (chu-co) — “donkey”, “horse’s ass”
cuya moi — “shut up” or “go to hell”
divia (div-ya) — “crazy”, “jerk, screw-up, or harmless screwball”
inga — “unattractive” or “bad-tempered person” or “junk” or “crap”
jival — “girl”
mush has a cormunga in his cover — “guy is hiding a gun”
mush is the earie — “the guy is listening”
over-chay or overchay (ova-chay) — “it’s a lie” or “he’s an actor”
Even today, if you’re from Newton and meet someone else from the Lake, you might get asked, “Are you a mush?” The Lake’s dialect even made it to Conan O’Brien when. Matt LeBlanc, who is from Newton, shared a few terms. (Cool fact: my Mom used to be a Teacher’s Aide in the Newton Public Schools and believes she used to help with Matt LeBlanc!)
Another result of my ancestry research was that I decided to pursue Italian citizenship for me and my family via a pathway to dual citizenship that had been available to people of Italian descent under some circumstances. I did a TON of research and discovered that we had a narrow pathway to citizenship. Over the past 4 years, I’ve documented our ancestry and worked with an Italian law firm to present our case in Rome. I traveled last year to Florence to hand deliver the paperwork I had laboriously compiled over several years; I was not going to trust anyone else with ensuring that it arrived safely. Unfortunately for us, there have been recent rulings and laws passed in Italy that appear to have closed the door for our petition.
While Italian citizenship may not be in the cards, the pull to see more of Italy remains strong. I’ve seen parts of Florence, Rome, and Milan, but the rest of the country is still on my “to do” list. This cycling adventure will take me along the very top of Italy, from Alleghe to Bolzano and then on to Bormeo. We will be very close to Switzerland and Austria at some points of the journey. We land in Venice and leave from Milan but I will spend no time in either city. The map below shows the most direct route via cars but does not represent the actual route we will take.
In my next post, I’ll share more details on the actual routes we have planned. Time to pack!
At the suggestion of some friends, I’m resurrecting this blog for my next epic cycling adventure: touring the Dolomites! I’ve been blessed to find a group of local riders who welcomed me into their tight community. We match well in all ways that matter, and they’ve become close friends. And that has led to me joining them on what for them have been annual rides in Europe through mountain climbs made famous by the Tour de France and other pro cycling tours. This year, the group chose the Dolomites and have planned a multi-day path from Alleghe to Bormio, with upwards of 90,000 feet of climbing over 600+ miles.
Our plan is to awake each day, eat breakfast, and spend the bulk of the day on the bikes. We will have vehicle support for extra food and water, clothing layers, and as safety net if needed. We will be climbing each day for several hours, and don’t expect to get back to our hotel until just before dinner. To say I’m intimidated about this would be an understatement.
The highlight of the trip, beyond the companionship, promises to be the climb up the iconic Stelvio Pass, a 25km long and 1850m vertical climb. With 48 switchbacks, it will offer no shortage of epic views, but we will have to work for them.
I will do my best to post each day during the trip and I hope I can do the trip justice for those who choose to follow me.
This trip should do wonders to help me prepare for my 10th Pan Mass Challenge ride which will take place the first weekend in August. My fundraising has been off to a good start, but I could definitely use your support to get me over my $20K commitment.
PMC weekend was, in a word, spectacular. Every year I look forward to PMC weekend for so many reasons, but mostly for how much it feeds my soul. To be surrounded by so many people united in an important cause is almost indescribable, but I’ll try to do so anyways.
For the past several years I have ridden a Fidelity PMC team that directs its fundraising to the Pediatric Brain Tumor Foundation within the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute. I became involved with this particular foundation through a friend and neighbor whose son has been living with a brain tumor since he was very young. Before the PBTF was founded there was almost no research into pediatric brain tumors, the most common kind of cancer in childhood. Today, thanks to years of fundraising by organizations such as the PBTF there are many promises lines of research and treatment for these tumors, and those treatments are far less toxic to children. My friend’s son is now in college, a testament to the doctors at Dana-Farber.
Through the PMC, I have met other children fighting cancer. Of of those children is Willa, our current PMC pedal partner, who has been living with a tumor on her optic nerve that has been affecting her ability to see. Willa is entering sixth grade this year and continues to receive treatment at Dana-Farber Cancer Institute for her tumor. More on Willa, later. But first, more about what I think makes PMC weekend so special.
I think that the word that best defines the PMC is gratitude. Everyone is thanking everyone pretty much all the time for things big and small. Thank you for riding. Thank you for giving. Thank you for volunteering. Thank heavens I’m still here. Thank you for the water, for the food, for the music, for the cheering, for the cowbells, for the treatment, for the clinical trial, for the good weather, for waiving me through that intersection and keeping me safe, for the massage after the ride, for all the encouragement, for the smile, for the laugh, for the shoulder to cry on…thank you for everything.
A close second to gratitude would be the word selflessness. It’s incredible how everyone all weekend seems to be focusing on helping someone else. No one is trying to be the center of the attention and no one is complaining. Everyone is looking out for everyone else and doing what they can to make those people feel comfortable and welcome. While cancer is what brings us together for the PMC, the PMC is so much more than a cause or a disease. I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that 6000 almost complete strangers could be described as a family. There’s no way to know everyone’s name or even recognize their face, but you know that with certainty that any one of them would come to your aid without hesitation if you needed it.
Every long-term PMC rider will tell you about how they’ve developed friendships with people they see only once per year. In the 8 years I’ve been doing the PMC ride I have developed many such friendships, and it’s always a delight to see them. Some of those friendships have grown into year-round friendships. I may see them on random group rides or make plans to ride together. Some have even reached the point where we plan destination rides together.
This year, I chose to join a small group of PMC riders at the NY-MA border on the Friday before the official ride started if for nothing else to stretch out PMC weekend. The Friday before PMC weekend is the unofficial Day 0 ride. It’s not a part of the organized ride, but every year dozens of riders do it. I had heard talk of it for several years but had never really considered doing it until last year. I don’t know why riding 283 miles over three days seemed so much daunting than 187 miles over two days, but it did. But, this year I decided to give it a try.
I was fortunate to find two other riders who wanted to do the Day 0 ride with me. Josh and Stephanie are also with Team Willa. Stephanie’s husband agreed to shepherd us out the day before and then to the NY border early the next morning. With those logistics taken care of, all I had to do was load up my bike and pack my bags for the weekend.
Ready for the drive out to Lenox, MA
When we arrived in Lenox, MA Thursday evening we checked into our hotel and then went out for a delicious Italian dinner. Stephanie’s daughter joined us as well and we had a great time discussing favorite musical bands.
After dinner, we headed back to the hotel to get a good night’s sleep so we could wake up early for the ride.
Day 0 – NY/MA border to Sturbridge
The plan for Friday was to meet other riders at a small municipal parking lot on the side of a state road right on the New York border. Several other groups of riders were also planning their departures throughout the morning.
We arrived at the border just after a thunderstorm passed through, and hoped that it would be the last rain we’d see for the weekend.
With the rain cleared at 6:30 am, Josh, Stephanie, and I set out together to ride to Sturbridge, MA, 96 miles away. (Another rider we only met that day, Alex, joined our crew for most of the day, though he isn’t in many of my pictures.)
Josh, Stephanie, and me. Missing from this pic is Alex, another rider who stayed with us most of the day.
While there were occasionally other riders with us, for most the ride it was just the four of us. We rode through amazing country roads and up and over the pass where the Appalachian Trail cuts through western Massachusetts.
We saw dozens of other riders making similar ‘Day 0” journeys, and along the way we were treated to food and beverages at stops set up by friends and family to keep us all fueled and hydrated. The whole thing was a lot more organized than I had anticipated it would be.
The weather was cooperative even though there were forecasts of possible rain, and we stayed dry the 96 miles. It was all smiles all morning!
Near Northampton we spent some time on a beautiful and lightly used rail trail that included a ride on a converted railroad bridge over the Connecticut River. I have mixed feelings about riding a road bike on rail trails, but this was pretty cool.
Except for spreading out occasionally on hills we kept pace together most of the way. Josh and Alex had a bit more in their legs near the end of the ride and so they sped to the finish. Stephanie and I rolled into Sturbridge, MA not long after, just after noon.
Day 0 – PMC Festivities
Once we had arrived in Sturbridge, our first task was to check in and get our bikes ready for the big group departure early the next day.
As other riders checked in the lot filled up quickly with bikes. Behind the hotel, food and beverages were served while friends new and old gathered to swap stories and plan for the weekend’s rides. Dusk came all too quickly, and many of us headed into the convention center ballroom attached to the hotel to watch the opening ceremonies, headlined by Billy Starr, the founder of the PMC. Billy started out by comparing PMC weekend to the hit show, Ted Lasso, because there is just so much goodness and compassion all around, and no matter what the challenge is, we come together and find a way. It was a cool moment.
During his talk, Billy shared several key points about the PMC that I found inspiring:
The PMC has raised over $950 million for the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute since it was founded in 1980.
Every dollar raised by PMC participants goes directly to the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute.
Over 60% of the Jimmy Fund’s annual budget comes from the PMC.
The PMC has become the largest athletic fundraising event in the country.
Over 1000 cancer survivors – who the PMC designate our Living Proof community – either rode or volunteered in the PMC this year alone.
Over half of all cancer treatments approved by the FDA in the past five years were developed at Dana-Farber.
Billy promised that the PMC will pass the $1 billion mark by next year’s PMC — an absolutely astounding milestone for a charity ride to reach. I look forward to being a part of the group that helps deliver on that goal.
Day 1 – Sturbridge to Bourne
Saturday morning, the official start was at 5:30 am. At 5 am, after putting away a carb-heavy breakfast, I met up with Ed, a fellow Team Willa rider. Ed and I rode together on Day 2 last year and we were going to try to stay together on Day 1 this year. My legs were sore and heavy from the Day 0 ride, and we had a long day ahead of us, so I was a bit anxious.
Ed and I joined a large crew of riders that promised to be fast. It’s hard to tell in pictures, but sometimes you can tell just by standing next to another rider that he spends more time on his bike than you do on yours, and that you’re going to be hanging on for dear life as you try to keep up.
Sure enough, we were on the gas almost immediately after the Star Bangled Banner was sung. I gamely hung with the group for about 10 miles, but with a 110 mile ride on tap for the day and close to 100 miles ridden the previous day, I made the decision to back off to be sure I could make it to Bourne, MA. Ed and I parted ways, but crossed paths at the first rest stop. We’d catch up later in Bourne.
I also bumped into Billy Starr at the first rest stop and he graciously agreed to a selfie in front of the snack table.
Over the day, I rode with a variety of people, and enjoyed the scenery. Rest stops were a great place to connect with friends. The Dighton High School rest stop is also where the riders from Wellesley first have a chance to connect with the riders from Sturbridge. We found some more Fidelity riders there. And we ate pickles, because that’s what cyclists do.
One of my favorite parts of the Day 1 ride is Cherry Street in Wrentham. They did not disappoint this year, with a steel drum band, cowbells, and my favorite: bagpipes with drums.
The Lakeville rest stop is my favorite of all because it’s where we have a chance to connect with our pedal partners. I was fortunate that Willa was there when I checked in. As always, she greeted us with a huge smile and hug. She has really grown since I saw her the previous year.
Willa is excited about sixth grade, which will be in the middle school in her town. Her older brother and parents were there, too, and they all wanted to express how thankful they are to all the riders and donors that have made Willa’s treatment possible. I left Lakeville with a full heart and renewed energy! It wasn’t long before I rolled into the Massachusetts Maritime Academy in Bourne, where I would refuel, rest, and relax all afternoon.
Day 2 – Bourne to Provincetown
On Sunday morning, Ed and I were up at 3:30 am so that we could get packed, ready the bikes, eat, and get to the Bourne Bridge, where a dedicated bike lane was opened for us between 5 and 6 am. If you’re late you have to walk over the bridge, which is not fun in cycling shoes.
Ed and I were joined by Ben and Marc, two riders we had ridden with the previous year, and together we headed for the Bourne bridge. The goal for the day was to ride as fast as we could while sticking together. At the first rest stop we picked up Stephanie and Keith, and that became our crew for the day.
Marc, Stephanie, me, Ben, Ed, and Keith at the second rest stop
Riding at pre-dawn along the Cape Cod Canal we slowly warmed up. By the time we left the canal we were clipping along at a very quick pace. Each of us took a turn at the front as the miles clicked by.
With sun coming up, we were reminded of one of the dangers of cycling: cars. Another rider had been clipped by a car whose driver had been blinded by the sun on an uphill road. First responders were on the scene and the rider was sitting up, which was encouraging. Still, it’s always unsettling when you see a rider down and their bike crumpled.
We continued on and soon reached the Cape Cod Rail Trail. As I said before, I have a mixed feeling about rail trails. On the one hand, it’s good to be away from traffic and the dangers cars pose. But, you also have to be aware of joggers, walkers, strollers, recreational cyclists, kids learning to bike, dogs on or off leashes…it can be almost as stressful as riding on the road. Fortunately, the rail trail was mostly empty at 7 am when we were on it, and we made short work of it without incident.
We reached the final rest stop at 8 am, fueled up quickly and got back on the road. Stephanie had been cracking us up all morning with what we dubbed the “non-Irish goodbye”: instead of disappearing without saying goodbye (the Irish goodbye), she kept telling us that she was going to drop off because we were going too fast, but we’d turn around and she’d still be there a half hour later. We were still six strong after 3 hrs of riding. It’s exhilarating when you find yourself in a group of riders as well matched as we were that morning.
The weather just kept getting better, and we only faced a mild headwind as we approached the dunes of Provincetown. Somehow, my legs felt stronger at the end of the day than they had in the morning. Four of us broke off near the final few miles in the dunes and just after 9 am we arrived at the Provincetown Inn. We posed for a group photo before showering and grabbing some food.
The end of PMC weekend had arrived. My “other” family awaited me in Provincetown so we could begin a family vacation together on the Cape. After saying some heartfelt goodbyes to my PMC family, I hopped into the car with my wife and two sons, and we drove off into the dunes in the other direction.
I’ll leave you with the official video from the PMC with video highlights from the 2023 weekend. I think it really does a great job of capturing the feel of the weekend.
It is still summer 2023 so getting three consecutive perfect weather days in Massachusetts has alway been unlikely. All week the weather forecast for Day 0 out in Lenox, MA has been showing some rain. Last night the forecast was for a tiny chance of morning showers followed by partial sunshine until early afternoon, which gave a faint hope of staying dry.
Given the crazy weather this summer I wasn’t completely surprised to wake up to this:
Storm bearing down on our location just about at wake up call time
This morning’s forecast suggests the bulk of the rain will pass by 6:30 am which is when we get on the bikes at the NY border. Rain I can deal with…lightning I cannot. So, keep on moving, storm.
Part of the excitement about PMC is just getting ready for the rides. Typically, I ride twice over the weekend, but this year I am riding three days. More prep!
You’ve got to choose what kit to wear each day, what your nutrition and hydration plan will be, what comfort items to bring, what to wear after the ride, what electronics to carry and how to charge them. The checklist is long. And then you have to organize it all to make sure you have what you need when you get up at the crack or dawn to ride. for some reason I enjoy this.
Tomorrow we meet the other riders at 6 am, so I’ll be up at 5 to eat and get packed up. On PMC weekend this is sleeping in. Saturday and Sunday will be MUCH earlier starts.
For the past 8 years, he first weekend in August has been the best weekend of the year for me. It’s the weekend of the Pan Mass Challenge, a charity ride to raise funds for cancer treatment and research at the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute.
PMC weekend is here!
The PMC attracts over 6000 riders from all over the world to pedal one of several courses ranging in length from 25 miles to almost 180 miles, ridden over one or two days. They’re supported by thousands of volunteers. It’s always an amazing weekend filled with smiles and tears. The weekend fills me up, and reminds me of how much goodness there is in the world. That’s why I am smiling. PMC weekend is here!
This year I’m riding an extra day — Day 0 — an unofficial ride before the ride. Dozens of us will depart early on Friday from the NY-MA border to ride 95 miles to Sturbridge, MA, where the original PMC course begins. That’s where I am heading now — staying overnight in Lenox, MA so we can get an early start in the morning. I’m fortunate to have two PMC teammates that wanted in on this bonus mileage, too, and volunteered to drive us out. Let’s GOOOOOO!
Heading out to the NY-MA border
I am going to post from the road this year to try to capture some of what makes this week so special to me.
When I awoke on Sunday in the hotel, my eye was burning and clearly infected, my sinuses painful and clogged, and I could tell that sleep had not restored much energy. In fact, a had felt feverish over night and had to get up several times.
I picked up my phone and saw a text from Kai:
“Heading out. Rained all night. Today is the big one. Have a good rest today and hopefully I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
This was one of the rainiest Junes on record for Wyoming.
Just the thought of getting back out on the trail was exhausting, and I made my decision. I texted, Kai back, “I am done. I really wish I wasn’t but I can’t ride like this. So sorry to leave you riding solo.”
Having made my decision, I began to focus on getting back home instead of getting back on the bike. I booked my flight home for Tuesday. I made my way to a local urgent care and left with antibiotics. I returned some now unneeded supplies to REI, and picked up some street clothes while I was there. Then, I headed back to my room, and mostly just lay on the bed binge watching Netflix on my phone. I
t was raining in Jackson and though there were many things I would’ve liked to have seen or done, I wasn’t feeling up to it, especially with the lousy weather. I couldn’t even bring myself to go to the bar attached to the hotel to listen to live music.
I was worried about Kai being out alone in the mountains in the weather. Then, he called. The weather and the trail were miserable he said. Snow. Mud. Steep climbs. Bears. No services. And the wind was picking up. He had to make a choice to keep going or exit the trail and head to the nearest town, 15 miles away. I was relieved when he decided that was what he was going to do.
The next 24 hours I focused on getting packed up. I had to deal with my bike to get it ready to ship home, and the shops I called couldn’t help on short notice. I needed luggage to replace the one I had left behind at the beginning of the trip, thinking I would not need it again.
Kai phoned to say he had made it to Dubois and was taking a shuttle to Jackson Monday morning. He had a flight booked for Monday night. It was great to see him again.
Kai found a place that could box our bikes up same day, which was a huge relief, and a big savings since I could check the bike on my flight instead of paying to ship it. And the hotel we had stayed at the first night of the trip had held onto the pieces of luggage we had left behind.
It was as if all the signs were telling us we had made the right decision to abandon the trip and head home.
Now, Tuesday, I am home, a bit weary, but happy.
Heading home
The trip did not go anywhere near as planned, but we got some good stories out of it. And, I think we learned a bit about dealing with things out of our control. Most importantly, we survived to ride another day.
Soon after I arrived at my hotel in Jackson. I received a text from Kai. He had arrived at the next campground, and had experienced both weather and mechanical difficulties.
“Got to the campground. Pretty brutal day. Last 5 miles just mud. My belt came off and my rear brake is busted.”
Ugh. I was glad to hear that he had arrived, but worried about his ability to continue on. About a half hour later I received another text:
“Fixed the brake.”
That was welcome news. Apparently, the mud was so thick it built up on his tires and pushed his drive belt (like a bike chain but made of rubber) off. The only way to fix that is to remove the rear tire, refix the belt, and then but the rear wheel back on. It’s a bit of a task in good conditions. At elevation, in the rain and cold, with tires caked in mud the consistency of chunky peanut butter, it was chore. Kai later told me he worked on the bike for 45 minutes before he was fortunate that another cyclist came by and lent him a hand. He finally got the drive belt back on, which would allow him to pedal, but the rear brake wasn’t working. Fortunately, he finally managed to fix it.
“Everything was full of mud, so when I got the wheel back on to get the belt aligned the disc brake went in wrong. Luckily it was an easy fix.”
I was glad to hear Kai was able to get it sorted out, and relieved that I had turned back instead of continuing on with him. I don’t know how I would have been able to deal with a mechanical issue like that on my bike. I had enough trouble staying warm on my ride. I couldn’t imagine having to stand in the rain and work through a tricky bike fix feeling as run down as I did. I was glad I listened to my body. I took some medicine and went to sleep.
Morning of Day 3, Kai got going early as he had a steep climb ahead of him in iffy conditions. I slept in a bit longer.
Kai getting ready to hit the road.
I got going about an hour and a half later after packing up my bike and eating a big breakfast at the resort restaurant.
Before leaving I received two warnings about grizzlies being active in the area. I was already a bit nervous about riding the roughly 45 miles solo feeling like I did, but fear is a good motivator. I was just going to stay alert and keep moving. I took the safety off my bear spray canister and mounted it on my bike next to my right brake lever, and I was off.
The first part of my ride was rolling with several moderate climbs, and while feeling sluggish and still experiencing sinus pain, I managed a steady pace. I found it impossible not to stop and take in the beauty.
I was riding northbound on a part of the Tour Divide race course and crossed paths with several racers heading south. And then, about six miles up the road, I saw stopped cars on the side of road, and knew instantly I was about to see a bear.
Grizzly
Sure enough, about 75 yards into a field a grazing was foraging. It was a cool moment and I snapped a few pictures.
Park rangers were directing traffic and yelling at all pedestrians (and one biker) to move back so we were not within 100 yards.
I took the suggestion and pedaled on. I had a long way to go still. I stopped when I got tired, and tried to be in the moment.
Before long, I came across another line of stopped cars. This time, it was a black bear attempting to cross the road to the lake below.
The stopped cars were blocking this black bear as it attempted to cross the road
Not wanting to be around I’d and when the bear got to the road, I moved on again.
It was a beautiful ride. Knowing that I might not be able to continue on, I savored it. Every turn brought another wow vista.
I rolled into Jackson mid afternoon, weary but content. I didn’t need to decide yet if I was done for the trip, I needed rest. I checked into my hotel, got some food, and went to sleep.
Fargo and Away 
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