Final thoughts and statistics - last post of this blog

First, thank you for following this blog. I had a great time cycling across North America, and having you follow my blog was a motivational boost. So, thanks again.

You can view the pictures from this amazing trip if you Press here for Album.

The trip:

The journey began on May 6th in San Diego, California, with a stop at the hiking store to purchase clothing and equipment needed for the trip. This included two coats (for warmth and for protection from the rain), long thermal pants, a tent, a sleeping bag, and a sleeping pad. These were tested instantly as the rain began that day less than an hour after I left the store and lasted for three days.

I headed up to Big Bear and down to Santa Monica, up the coastal road and headed up to the Sequoia national park. From there down to Fresno and up to the magnificent Yosemite national park. Then to Sacramento to get new tires and a new chain. Headed up to Cascades in Oregon and finally got to the Columbia river where I headed east from Washington State on the Lewis and Clark trail. On this trail, I crossed the Rockies from Idaho to Montana.

I headed from Montana to Yellowstone and crossed the vast and practically empty state of Wyoming. This was the toughest section that needed most the survival skills a cross country cyclist should have. Not only is there hardly a population to rely on, but this emptiness means less water and food are available along the way. Rather than 3 liters (3 quarts) of water, I carried double that amount, more food than usual, but the toughest part was the heat. Upper 90's F (upper 30's C) and no trees to take refuge in their shade. These were a few difficult days until I reached Devil's Tower.

But then the weather changed. I arrived in South Dakota fleeing the thunderstorm which hit just as I reached town. It got hotter and drier again until I reached the middle of Nebraska. Then, another storm changed the weather for the rest of the trip. Most days were cool enough for me to cycle without getting too hot.

The Midwest is flat, for the most part, and beautiful. The corn fields of Iowa reminded me of the home away from home that I had back in the 1980's when I spent three years as a student in the Quad Cites. Visiting my host from those days and my good friend from college made this portion very special.

Illinois and Indiana made cycling safe for me. Both have cycling trails that took me from the Mississippi to Lake Michigan practically all the way off-road. The canals of past, where horses used to pull the boats through a set of locks, have been transformed to cycling trails. They are well maintained most of the way and offer a great cycling experience for days in a row.

Once reaching Michigan, the whole culture and feel changed. People jog and cycle, the food portions are smaller in the restaurants and there is a selection of food types rather than the fried food that is all one can find in the Midwest.

And then it was Canada. It seems that Michigan took a look in one direction, saw the Midwest, looked in the other direction, saw Canada, and decided to go the Canadian way. Canada is extra polite and clean. It has more food options. It is multicultural even before reaching Toronto.

For me, Toronto was very special. I spent a few days with my partner, who was there for a sabbatical.

Heading back towards the United States on the Loyalist parkway, one sees the documentation of the history of Canada with regard to its enemy of the past, the U.S.A. I saw similar, but with a reverse attitude, documentation on the other side.

Once reaching upstate New York the entire atmosphere changed again. Back to the U.S. problems with regard to their politics and way of life. I was back in Trumpland. This lasted for just a short while.

Vermont and New Hampshire are quiet and charming. I cycled through the forests that were starting to turn red and orange and was on off-road country trails. The trails leading to the White Forest National Park were probably the best cycling I had despite the fact that they are not in very high mountains. I loved the uphill in California, hundreds of meters (thousands of feet) a day which Vermont and New Hampshire do not have, but these trails were somewhat technical, lots of dirt paths and had romantic old towns along the way.

It rained on me for a few days until I hit the peak of the White Mountain National Forest. It was all downhill towards the Atlantic Ocean from that point. I started to feel the excitement building up.

I was almost there. Soon after the peak, I reached the point where the Appalachian trail crossed the road I was cycling and pushed on. The first night arrived. It was difficult to find a place to pitch my tent, but luckily I found a campground. Got up the next day and got closer by the minute to the ocean. Finally, Portland. I crossed the city and reached the shore. My mission was complete.

All that remained now was to get to Logan airport some 200 km away within five days. So I took my time cycling down the coast from Maine through New Hampshire to Massachusetts. The seafood is fresh and tasty. The boats in the harbors are picturesque, the air is clear and I was in "I have done it!!!!" mode.

Packed my bicycle at the entrance to the airport terminal. This was the final spot of my trip.

People:

But all that is not the main part of this trip. The main part was the people I met. Other cyclists, local townspeople, farmers, fire fighters, waiters, bartenders, motel receptionists. Goodhearted, hospitable and generous people who made me feel welcome in America.

There are scores of examples over the four and a bit months that I was cycling through the U.S. and Canada. Not all can be published for this will be practically an endless blog entry, so I will list only a few.

I think the most unexpected interaction was with the young woman who I managed, at least for a while, to stop from committing suicide: http://duboocrossusa.blogspot.co.il/2017/06/a-sad-story.html
I know it is possible that she tried again sometime later, but for that moment, she was safe.

My plan for the trip was to meet Americans (Canada was not part of the original plan and I found that they are more reserved than Americans, so I am focusing on the latter). I wanted to meet people and talk to them. All one gets to see from abroad are TV shows, movies, the news and visitors from America. I spent three years in the 80's in Iowa in a college atmosphere which even then did not represent America. I felt that I do not know enough about Americans and that I have to meet them face to face, talk with them, share a coffee or a beer, ask them tough questions and answer a few myself.

First day of the trip, I have just left the store where I have purchased my rainproof goods including an expensive coat. I am cycling uphill, as I will be doing for the next few days, and rain decides to give me an opportunity to test the coat. I am at a stoplight waiting for it to change so I can find a safe place to take the coat out of the designated bag and put it on. A driver rolls down his window and starts asking me about my bike and my trip. We pull over at the drive-through bank for shelter and we begin talking. This was a good sign, I felt, for the future of this trip. All I could tell him is that I have this plan to cross the U.S. He, a cyclist himself, told me about the cycling opportunities in the area. I was not ready to make changes in my plan, but understood that the locals are a good source of information.

The next day, I understood that firefighters are much more than what the title holds. They are the information source for everything outdoors. They know the forests like they know the back of their hands. It continued to rain all day and I needed a place to pitch my tent for the night. The locals at the diner told me to ask the firefighters for a safe place since there were no motels or campgrounds in the area. The firefighter I spoke with sent me to 'the old highway' (a concept that runs throughout America). There is a section on this highway that is completely blocked for traffic. "Just cross over into that section and you'll be safe from traffic and no one will bother you there".

I was heading into Idylwild park, California, and saw a building. It looked that it could be, perhaps, a restaurant. Lights were on and a few cars were parked outside. I open the door. I turns out that this was a bible study group. After I apologize, they point out that behind this building there is a whole town with restaurants and motels, so I will be able to find refuge from this cold night. As I walk out, Bill follows me and tells me that he is a Warmshowers host, and that I am welcome to stay with him.
While cycling to his home another person stops his car and asks me if I need any help. He is the owner of the local bike store. Endless kindness.

As the days passed, I found myself being stopped by people who want to help. Just like that. While in Washington State, on a very hot day, a woman pulls over. She's on her way to go fishing and has a cooler full of soda. She offered me one. Mountain Dew is not my favorite, but on this day, it was the best soda I ever had.

This day in Montana http://duboocrossusa.blogspot.co.il/2017/07/on-my-way-to-yellowstone.html, is a perfect example of how Americans feel about an Israeli visiting them and how hospitable they are. Not only do they refuse my money because I am an Israeli guest to their country but they also host me in their home just for having an interesting story to tell. Amazing.

I had people offer me money (which I had to refuse), pay for my meals (which I found out only when they were long gone) and open their homes to me.

The Christians wanted to understand how come I am a Jew but don't believe in a god and what do I feel about Jesus.The Republicans wanted to know what Israelis think about Trump. First, I had to explain, Israelis do not thing En Bloc. We have 8 million people and 10 million opinions. Discussions on both topics made me understand that despite having different opinions than I have, these are good people. They want a better world. They are willing to help, they are kind and welcoming. I knew that with these people I was not alone on my trip in America.

Statistics:

San Diego airport to Logan airport:
9,665 km / 6,040 miles
67,958 meters / 224,284 feet accumulated ascent.
Total Trip time: 4 months and -9 days
Net Trip time (excluding flight time and long breaks): 3 months and 24 days.
On average cycling hours per day (including breaks) : 10 hours.
Average cycling distance per day (when cycling full days): 84 km / 52.5 miles

Equipment:

Bamboo bike: 29" all-terrain bike, hard tail which I built in Toronto five years ago.
Helmet.
Dynamo hub on front wheel to generate electricity to charge phone and flashlights.
Bike packs in a bike-packing format.
Tools and spare parts for the bicycle.
Navigation and tracking equipment.
Flashlight.
Smartphone (for Google maps, detailed information and communication)
First-aid kit.
Raincoat, down jacket and thermal pants.
Sleeping bag, sleeping pad and a tent.
One pair of shorts and one t-shirt and a couple of pairs of underwear.
One set of extra cycling shorts and cycling shirt.
Socks (6 pairs).
Towel and washing gear.
Sandals
Backpack with an hydration pack and food rations for a day and a half (e.g. cans of tuna, tortillas and snack bars).