If I’ve learned anything in the past year of traveling, it’s that things don’t always go according to plan. My bike tour through Spain was one of those times.
The plan was for the trip to consist of three or four different phases through different geographical areas of Spain and Portugal. It turned out that my first leg through the Pyrenees from Girona to San Sebastián also happened to be my last.
There’s a much longer story there, or perhaps a series of small stories and misadventures. I realized as I was writing those stories out that the way I want to write them is too long for a single newsletter. It’s also taking longer than I thought it would, and I wanted to get this out. So, that version will come out in segments in the coming weeks.
The shorter (and more ambiguous, I can’t give everything away now 🙂 ) version of those stories goes something like this.
- Gravel is a completely different beast than pavement. This difference becomes even more pronounced when you add 30 pounds of camping gear, cook equipment, clothes, bike repair tools, and food onto your bike. It also makes gear selection and bike setup far more important. “Gravel” is also an incredibly vague term, and the race routes I was following, in my (not-so-expert) opinion, used this term VERY liberally.
- Riding on pavement, though easier from a technical perspective, does not mean easy when riding in the mountains with the aforementioned additional gear weight.
- It’s always a good idea to have a plan B. It’s also not a bad idea to think through a plan C. As well as an absolute worst case scenario plan Z. Thankfully, I didn’t get anywhere close to plan Z, but let’s just say plan A didn’t last very long.
- As long as safety isn’t in question (which, thankfully, it wasn’t), most problems are solvable with a bit (sometimes more than a bit) of time or money. Earlier on in my travels, I was more inclined to solve these problems. This time though, I noticed my motivation was far lower. Permanent solutions were more costly than I would have liked, and I wasn’t very keen on paying for them in the moment.
- Last fall, on October 15th, I left Washington on a flight to Taiwan. A few weeks ago, on October 14th, I reached San Sebastián. The next day was the one year anniversary of me starting this wild adventure. It was a special day to say the least, and an emotional one. Up until then, I was still uncertain on whether or not I wanted to just eat some costs and continue. But on that day, I just had a feeling it was time to come home. Yes, it was a bummer to end early, but in the grand timeline of traveling for a year, three or so more weeks felt pretty negligible. I could always come back on a separate trip, and I felt like I’d probably be in a better physical and mental state to enjoy Portugal and Andalusia.
- I decided to book a flight home from Bilbao, and enjoy three last easy days of riding to get there. After one final mishap 30 miles outside of Bilbao, I could tell I had nothing left to give. I laughed it off. I accepted that I really was ready to be done.
And finally, on Thursday, October 24rd, I stepped off the last plane I’ll be on for some time.
I’m home.
The three weeks I spent riding through the Pyrenees were stunning. They were exhausting. They taught me, or re-taught me, so much. My days in San Sebastián were a beautiful celebration of everything that’s happened in the past year, and I felt an eagerness towards what’s next. All the mishaps and unmet expectations of what this last leg of travel would look like felt inconsequential. In light of it all, I couldn’t help but be overwhelmed almost solely by gratitude. And though it wasn’t what I’d drawn up, I can’t imagine a more special way of spending my final days abroad.
So with that, as strange as it feels to say, this season of globetrotting has officially come to a close.
All that remains is the memories, and the people and photos that serve as reminders.
I used to think that was sad.
Maybe I still do to some extent.
But it’s also beautiful.
Though memories are of the past, they are a gift of permanence beyond the moment they existed in. And there’s nothing that can ever take those memories away.
As I write this, I realize the feeling I am trying to describe is grief. It is, in my eyes, one of the most complex emotions we as humans experience. How do we hold something we have lost? How do we celebrate and honor what was, while at the same time look forward knowing what is to come will not be the same? Things to ponder.
So What’s Next?
Great question. There’s a lot uncertain for me right now. With no more travel plans, no job, and no permanent residence, it’s the first time in a while I haven’t had a clue as to what’s coming next. But one thing I do know is that I’m not done writing.
Beyond the full version of this Pyrenees adventure coming soon, there are lots more stories I want to tell. They’ll look different. They might feel less “exciting”. But my hope is that they won’t be any less meaningful. My favorite part of writing these newsletters isn’t the details of the activities (in fact, I’m quite tired of attempting to describe ANOTHER hike and make it feel different than the last one). It’s the reflections that come along in those moments.
Someone who has greatly influenced my own posture around reflection shared a quote with me recently.
“Everything is a teacher if you know how to listen to it.”
It resonated. This quote encapsulates the direction in which I want to continue this newsletter. My hope is that in sharing my own experiences and reflections, it might be relatable, and encourage you to play with your own experiences and emotions. And even if there’s only one single person that benefits from it, then it will always be worth sharing.
So stay tuned. Your guess as to what comes next is as good as mine.
Talk to you soon.
– Trevor