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After cycling up the West Coast, and struggling with a worn out bicycle, including a cracked fork and broken front axle, and a worn out body, including creaky knees and a dislocated rib, I decided to recuperate at my family’s home in Waukesha, WI. My re-imagination of my book tour is going well. I plan to restart soon from Maine and head south to Florida in a literal going-for-broke bicycling book tour blitz.

I’ve also had a bit of epiphany earlier today while de-kinking my body in yoga, that my negative emotions are not so negative. For example, isn’t guilt really saying, “C’mon, you’ve got talents you’re not using.” Isn’t pain saying, “Do something different.” Isn’t boredom saying, “This isn’t my path in life.” Isn’t doubt really saying, “I can’t do something, but I think I might like to try.”

Aren’t “negative” emotions like guardian angels? And besides, isn’t it fun to laugh until you cry?

Today’s assignment: What are you afraid of? Why is that a good thing?

Pictured above:

I cycled with Edwin Tucker from Nepal to Tibet, including cycling up to Everest Base Camp. Edwin met Cathy in Kathmandu shortly before I arrived on the scene, and here we see the result — Ms. Anna Tucker getting an early start as a world bicycle tourist featured here aboard my bicycle. The Tucker’s went above and beyond the call of hospitality when hosting my recent stay at their lovely home in Vancouver. And for the record, I’ve actually been inspired to think about this having kids thing everyone seems to be doing at my age.

I’ve currently re-imaging my book tour, while having an unusual adventure visiting my tribal elders and childhood friends, who are now middle-aged. It’s like viewing myself in a magnifying mirror as I re-realize on a deeper level that I am an odd combination of the pros and cons of my parents, siblings and friends. And I have one interesting story for the next book about how a raisin can influence four generations of a family.

Coming up next, the tour continues from Acadia National Park, Maine to Key West, Florida.

I’m contemplating riding through New York City naked to get my book noticed, but I’m told this is an every day occurrence in NYC.

One of the things I never want to see again is a cow, unless it is hanging over the edge of my plate. I get bored fast. Even as a baby, I was so intelligent that I needed constant stimulation — that’s my mom’s charming way of saying I’m high-maintenance. I think if I was born a few years later, I would have been pill popping A.D.D. adolescent. On the other hand, my thirst for knowledge and experience has driven me on adventures into the African bush hiding from the hyenas in my tent, which is an amazing experience to savor for the rest of your — if you happen to survive. On the other hand, I feel that my attention span and appreciation for just about anything, maybe especially romantic relationships, is on the verge of fading away. Does anyone else feel like that? That as the years pass their sense become dulled? It certainly seemed that way as I was in a bar filled primarily with an excessive amount of meth addicts and unemployed loggers amusing themselves with sex, drugs and rock and roll.

One thing that always leaves me intrigued, fascinated and awed, even more so because I never get bored and because of the hundreds of mysteries I’ve discovered in such an ordinary object — a tree.

Redwood trees are the tallest trees on the planet and the second most massive as ironically defined by the lumber industry in board feet. A middle-aged tree can easily be ten feet in diameter and 1000 years old. The tannin in the trees make them imperious to insects and mold and an ideal construction material. Indeed, lumberjacks sometimes harvest a fallen tree that’s lain on the forest floor for a hundred years and haul the giant on away on a semi-truck. On tree per truck.

If the fallen tree has even one root still attached to the ground it often sprouts a new tree or a ring of trees or a line of trees, and the redwood lives on for thousands of years more. And I confirmed my theory with some rangers and loggers, who know more than some rangers about the trees, think that some trees could really be hundreds of thousands of years, perhaps even millions.

The trees of been around since prehistoric times and when the you visit the redwood forest, you’re not simply visiting a bunch of trees, but you’re visiting a land lost in time, as the trees alter the entire ecosystem.

And I wonder how they tree modifies me, because I certainly feel unusually peaceful among my old friends.

Well, I could go on, but time and energy are in short supply. These blogs are just notes compared to the years I spent writing my book.

PS. No bigfoot sightings, but definitely some stinkyfoots.

I’m busy making lots of updates that usually don’t get mentioned in my blog. Please see my videos and photos.

I’m also on my way to Vancouver to re-imagine my trip. Some might call that a fancy way of saying that I’m considering quitting. The concept of quitting is for people with the emotional intelligence of a spoiled child. But what if the logistics of reality (time, space, energy) just don’t allow you to achieve your goal? Does that mean one is quitting but resigning because the end game is solved? I’m toying with these ideas and more.

Leggett: a small town full of California hillbillies, one guy at least who is drinking while driving and even assisted by another motorist to lend a bottle opener, a town made famous for the the drive-thru redwood tree, which I bicycled through. Not really sure who thought that was the shortest route from A to B, but the tree has since become a tourist attraction and earns about $300 an hour, which is about $297 more per hour than me.

I’m relieved to be away from the chilly foggy coastal headwinds and in the peaceful redwood forests, one of my favorite places on the planet. I even impressed myself by riding fairly easily up a 12 mile hill at 6-7%. I’m starting to get strong again.

Speaking of hillbillies, also met a truly crazy Vietnam Vet who nickednamed himself E.T. A guy that genuinely made my skin crawl. And after traveling the world, that says a lot.

“You’re not from around here are you?” I jested.

“You sure as hell can bet I ain’t from around here.,” he said. “I’m from Lou-easy- anna.”

He claimed to be a sniper who made his own bullets out of wood so that they couldn’t be traced. He said, “I never hurt a child. I don’t rape women. And I ain’t never killed nobody that didn’t deserve to die.” He told me as I began to regret my invitation to a fire and beer.

“Me neither,” I said.

He pulled down his sunglasses and glared at me with one good eye and one glass eye. “You’d better watch yourself young blood. I ain’t one you wanna be making angry. I’m a half-breed, half Seminole Indian and I got a bad temper cuz of it.”

“For future reference, If I make you mad, just assume it was a mistake,” I said.

“I do. That’s why you’re still standing.”

E.T. prowled around the campground like a junkyard dog with a beer in hand chatting with every passerby in his growly voice. Needless to say he pretty much scared everyone away, except me. And for me he seemed to have endless stories of intimidation about the war and being a P.O.W. and growing up in the Louisiana bush. I figured ironically or not-so ironically, he must have found me extra-intimidating, especially after the other bicyclists made excuses and disappeared like scared cats. More than once he bulldogged me into a corner and I played dumb, my favorite self-defense, but most people just want a little respect, so when I growled in pseudo Louisiana grumble, “You’re one tough little son-of-a-bitch.” I was suddenly befriended, and he traded in my dead soldier for another pineapple, meaning my beer can.

And why did I go to all this trouble? Well one thing I’ve discovered about crazy people is that more than half the reason they went crazy is because they’ve seen a bit of reality that they couldn’t handle looking at, a tiny piece of truth that most of us spend our entire lives avoiding, even afraid to glance in the general direction.

So, what was the truth ET saw? In my opinion, he saw that any one of us could be brainwashed into killing machines thinking we’re doing the world a favor, and after seeing the horrors of war, returning to artificial culture where no one understood or even cared and sometimes condemnened what he had gone through in the name of protecting his grandfather’s homeland.

And another truth ET found, “When my spirit goes bad, possessed by evil spirits, I stop everything I’m doing, smell the roses, and count my blessings.”

When I calculate my mileage, I usually add 10% to maps to account for side trips and inaccuracies and those tiny bike wheels that seem to wiggle around a lot more than a car. And I add another 10% for ignorance and stupidity. This formula has proven to be very accurate.

The Pacific Coast
Santa Barbara, California to Vancouver, British Columbia)
1853 miles @ 4 days per week @ 50 miles per day = 200 miles per week = 9 weeks
Arriving approximately June 7.

Vancouver to Milwaukee
2460 = 12 weeks
Arriving approximately Sept 7.

Milwaukee to New York City (Not including possible trip to Montreal and Toronto)
1059 = 10 weeks
Arriving approximately Nov. 21

Atlantic Coast (NYC to Florida)
2673 = 13 weeks
Arriving approximately March 1, 2009

Southern tier (Florida to San Diego)
3666 = 18 weeks
Finishing approx. July 14, 2009

Not including possible trip to Mexico to celebrate successful book, or maybe even a bike trip in China as my last big adventure.

Total
12,500 miles = 62 weeks.

Of course, this is just an estimate, and already I can see that winter arrive before I get far enough south on the East Coast. Promoting my book and filming my video changes my trusty formula. And if I don’t create a stream of revenue, I will have to enter my basic financial survival into the equation.

I don’t have a lot of time these days as I’m circumnavigating the country on a bicycle, promoting my book “Falling Uphill” (a full time job all by itself), filming my video documentary “If you could do anything, what would you do?”, taking photos of everything somewhat interesting, beginning notes for my next book, meditating everyday to rewire my brain, posting everything onto my website, blog and those million other things that keep popping up on the web demanding attention, doing a small amount of advertising and design, and even more stuff that you wouldn’t believe.

– Thanks to Kate M. If it weren’t for her peaceful presence and emotional support my book may never have been published. I can’t really thank her enough.

– I can add landslide to the growing list of natural disasters I’ve witnessed: tornado, wildfires, earthquake, floods,

– World-class bicycle ride down the Big Sur coast ride

– Wildfires in Santa Barbara which came within about 5 blocks of the home I had just left.

– Reuniting with all my old friends in San Francisco and being treated to lots of great food.

– Getting poison oak while camping on the edge of a farm field. This is one of the most painful things I’ve experienced. It’s been 3 weeks, and I’m still getting outbreaks.

– Completely reorganized all my gear to keep going including, selling my trailer, buying bigger panniers, getting a new phone with GPS and mapping, discovering that I can use alcohol in my stove, and separating 15 pounds of gear, spare parts, and research papers to mail to myself.

– A little girl who says she if she could do anything, she’d, “grow chocolate on trees.”

– Psychic whose first question was, “Are you traveling?” And telling me that my spirit wants to settle down soon, which made me nauseous.

– The great grandaddy of ironies. Meeting a former inmate of Alcatraz, Darwin Cowen. An ordinary man who is an example of how a life full of disadvantages, a big dose of just feeling disadvantaged and some bad decisions can back a guy into a corner and begin a downward spiral. Darwin was considered incorrigible and irredeemable, and was basically intended to be locked up in maximum security and forgotten. He now is the guest of honor at the bookstore on Alcatraz. And hundreds of tourists line up every day to shake his hand and say, “It’s such an honor to meet you.” Me included.

– Thanks to Susan VanKuiken for giving me a home for two weeks

– The strange coincidence of staying in my old house, wishing everyday that I could have my old room back and just stay in my favorite city, and one morning realizing that tenant left in the middle of the night and stiffed my friend of the rent.

Lots more but gotta go…. The day is getting late.

Scott

I’ve been too tired to even write one post and it’s been a month, so I thought I’d better say something.

One interesting story so far is that I rode to the Pigeon Point International Hostel, the same company of which I am an honorary committee member and lifetime member, and having no beds and not allowing me to pitch my camp in the field next to the picnic table and outhouse, they turned me out into the cold with one hour of sun left to find a place to sleep. So after riding another 8 miles, which at the end of the day feels more like 80, I snuck around a farm gate and the standard “trespassers will be prosecuted sign” — Ah, the joys of riding a bicycle in America — and pitched my camp in the corner of a brambly field. The next morning, I left nothing but footprints and a bit of fertilizer.

A few days later, a rash begin to slowly erupt on my body like tiny volcanoes. It seems that I pitched my tent in a field of poison oak. I must have gotten it on my bike and then my hands and then transferred it to my arms, chest, neck, face. The rash continued to spread the next few days. Revealing every bit on my body that my wandering hands wandered over: my left ear resembles beet red cauliflower and feel as if it might fall off, my lips are blackened and blistered, and, to be polite, let’s just say that I’ve reduced my chances to have children by a couple percent.

It’s been ten days and I’m still in an impressive amount of pain. This poison oak is serious stuff.

The good news is these are the events that make good stories. Or perhaps my ability to write an entertaining story about sipping that perfect cup of coffee in North Beach has not yet evolved.

Below you will notice a new Google Ad…. if it works. As I continue to attempt to monetize my adventures. What can I say…. I need to eat to and I’m only selling about 1.5 books per day.

There have been a few additions to my kit this time round.

- B.O.B. Trailer in addition to panniers to carry all my extra books

- Cell phone

- Laptop

- Wifi finder

- iPod touch for showing people movies and slideshows on the go, plus this thing has wifi and google maps

- Really really really thinking of selling half my soul to buy an iPhone. This has an application for GPS tracking and can upload my route and photos to google maps instantly.

- 1 case of books, plus promotional material

- A stack of CDs of my new audio book

- A video camera

- Keys and cords and adapters to all this stuff

- Vitamins for my aching and aging body

- And about 30 lbs of extra fat and calcium deposits in my joints and sludge in veins from sitting here in front of a computer

God bless me with tailwinds.

I’ve been so busy getting ready that I haven’t even had time to update people on the planning.

One friend asked: “How do you feel?”

An interesting question, as opposed to the frequent: “Why?”. As usual, I have mixed emotions. I didn’t really think I’d get back on a bike so soon, especially in America. I was dreaming that if I didn’t settle down, I would have hitchhiked Asia or something like that. Part of me is excited to have an adventure and challenge myself. (I am sick of sitting in my house writing about adventure.) I view this as an opportunity to get over the last dregs of my ego-importance and angst and really live my life. It’s time to stop searching for an answer and create an answer. At the same time, I get to spread a great message and build a community. Maybe not quite the localized community I thought I would be creating at this stage of my life. Then there is the other half of me that is pretty dang scared. I’m not entirely confident this is the most logical answer to marketing a book and I feel as I’m gambling literally everything I have on a publicity stunt. I really dislike marketing and hundreds of emails and phone calls that go AWOL, so I hope the trip markets itself. All and all it will be much harder as I will have to coordinate publicity and carry the extra weight of books and camcorder, camera, cell phone, computer, iPod and a dozen cords…. I have conservatively estimated 1.5 times the weight, and it could easily double the weight depending on various factors. I got a B.O.B trailer in addition to panniers. Just the trailer is an extra 13.5 pounds plus spare parts. Well, the trip isn’t about me or the bike or miles. So, maybe I will just half my mileage. Basically, I don’t know what I’m doing and making it up as I go along. But that’s life, eh?

I’m almost ready to set sail on my next adventure and I’m inviting you to join me:

If you can’t join the adventure, why not re-live the adventure with my new audio book, and re-discover the passion to live your “impossible” dream:

Lots of other new stuff like a movie about my adventures in Peru.

Also keep track of me via Twitter. Or this blog. Subscribe to my videos on youtube and more….

For sale. Jeep. Small 400 square foot cottage (read: rent an pricey, but very nice remodeled garage) in Santa Barbara, CA. Graphic design career. Log bed. Handmade Afghanistan rugs. Expensive paintings. Plus all the annoying little things no man should ever have to buy, like a broom and dustpan. And, perhaps a date with my ex-girlfriend, provided you want to get married, have kids, and aren’t planning on bicycling off into the sunset, but I should probably ask her first. Basically everything except my bicycle and book must go. Any reasonable offer accepted.

I’ve just planned a tentative route circumnavigating the country of about 12,500 miles, which should take 62 weeks at a minimum. That’s 50 miles/day 4x per week. I’m using Adventure Cycling’s maps as a guide.

My tour could take longer if I spend long amounts of time in each city promoting the book. Ironically cycling into the major cities to promote my book is one of the major flaws of my tour. Now I have to look into timing. My main consideration is whether to go clockwise or counterclockwise. I prefer to head north. Which makes crossing the Rockies my main factor.

I’ve also will need to consider my health, which is not very good at the moment, I think I have had bronchitis for months. And money which is also critically low. I may be living hand to mouth on my tour.

Well, I’ve written a book about living your dreams, so money or no money, and health or no health, I figure I gotta get out there and practice what I preach.

Scott plans to circumnavigate the USA on a bicycle and be a real-life example of Falling Uphill’s message of hope, inspiration and self-fulfillment — essentially helping people discover the possibility of living their “impossible” dream.