I spent two weeks in Vancouver. Fourteen full days in a house with carpeted floors, sleeping in the same plush bed every night, eating food I could store in a refrigerator and connecting to the internet several times a day.
On the road, waking up at the beginning of the day is full of excitement for the possibilities of the day - until I realize that I have to go to the bathroom. This involves getting out of my sleeping bag and sheet, maybe putting some warm clothes on if I'm not feeling like braving the cold, unzipping tent and fly and stepping out onto the dew-soaked ground to find a tree or a bush... or a soft patch of ground I can pierce with my shovel if I really have to go... Then begins the slow process of preparing for the day. I get into my often still damp, sometimes a bit smelly biking clothes. I pack up my clothes into one pannier, sleeping bag and pad into another and get everything out of my tent. I take down my tent which is cold and wet with dew or rain, numbing my fingers throughout the process. Next, I get out my stove, fire it up, and wait for my oatmeal to cook. If I feel like I really need a warm, caffeinated drink (and I have some coffee grounds), I'll cook up a pot of cowboy coffee. 15 minutes later or so, I'm eating my hot porridge and possibly drinking a cup-o-jo. Just when my fingers have finally warmed up, I've finished breakfast and need to wash dishes before beginning the journey for the day. With dishes washed, my fingers numb again, I load my bike and am finally ready to start pedaling for the day...
On the other hand, when I stay indoors it's a the dream life of luxury! In Vancouver in the morning I would stumble upstairs and make myself a latte from the espresso machine. I would use a real bathroom without ever having to leave the warmth of the dwelling, the only discomfort coming from having to cross the cold tile floor with my bare feet. Breakfast came from the fridge and a frying pan, hot water from a tea kettle, and maybe even bacon from the freezer. Dishes were put into the dishwasher and forgotten about. Nothing was packed away, and my fingers would never become numb.
This is a lifestyle that I can only dream about while on the road biking. And the first several days of it are absolute bliss. The mere comfort of a roof above my head and insulated walls protecting me from the cold wind and rain outside being a royal luxury. My metabolism runs at its high biking-accelerated levels, converting everything I eat to chemical fuel my body thinks it will need. My thoughts are on food and of the different ways I can nap, sit, and relax the day away. Beers get opened once noon hits and afternoon cocktails and glasses of wine are consumed as I wonder what I'll eat for dinner (okay, maybe I'm exaggerating just a little bit, especially since liquor prices in Canada were suuuuper high). While in Vancouver, I expanded my culinary abilities making my first pie crust, my first chicken pot pie, quiche, cinnamon rolls, and seared halibut with broccoli.
But after a couple of days, my metabolism regained is usual sedentary levels and I was forced to consider if I was getting enough 'exercise' each day... Doing the mixing of a batch of cookie dough by hand doesn't really seem to count as the necessary exercise to justify eating the quantity of cookies that would result.
My metabolism wasn't the only thing that dropped, but my general mood became more stagnant. No longer were my days filled with unknown adventures. I knew everyday when I woke up where I would sleep that night. Although there's a lot to see in Vancouver, I lacked the motivation to continuously venture out into a city I'd been in and explored already for a few days. All parts of cities seem the same to me-the same shops, the same style buildings, and the same hills to go up and down. I yearned for mountains to hike and hills to climb. Fortunately, there was a popular hiking mountain very close to the house. Upon trying to climb the mountain, however, I was infuriated by the fact that the trail closed at 4pm, AND that, while it was free to hike up, it was mandatory to take the gondola back down to the bottom-a mandatory $10 gondola ride.
So my days fell into stagnation and while I was happy to have the luxury and comforts of a house, I grew tired of experiencing the same thing day in and day out and yearned for the adventure and unknown that only the road could give me. The road is upon me once again and, while it has taken a bit to get used to, new experiences hit me everyday, and I have one month to get to San Diego before Thanksgiving. Cheers to all!
