New Equator – A Commitment Ceremony

On this little coin-sized circle, there is a place called Madison, Point A. It sits amongst green fields of dairy cows, people with large cheese appetites, and a whole lot of bicycles.

On this same coin-sized circle, there is another place, called Brisbane, Point B. It lies next to a big bountiful river, miles of white-sanded coastline, and a whole lot of surfboards.

There is magic here. If one were to tilt the world on it’s axes, if one were to – fall in love for example – one would discover that by drawing a connecting line between these two locations,  one would pass right through the centre of a Third important point, point C.

This point is of a much smaller nature, on our coin-sized circle above, but it’s name is Port Vila. It belongs scattered amongst 80 islands, millions of fruiting coconut trees, and a lot of water – the salty kind. Now, this is really the most valuable of the points to you, dear reader, since without it – this moment would not pass. RIGHT NOW, you would not be reading this blog. You would not have stumbled on this character “Lily Barlow” and you would certainly never have heard of “Charles Brigham”. Port Vila, Vanuatu is where it all began.

Don’t worry if you missed it though, it happens. Beginnings begin all the time, and it is a rare occasion when everyone can make it. Plus, guess what? There’s a whole other beginning happening in just Three Weeks! It’s called the New Equator Extravaganza – A Commitment Ceremony. It will be held at Point A, AND it will be dutifully blogged and logged on this here very website. There will be photos of the food, photos of the people, and photos of all the decorations that have been accumulating in my living room the last few months!

Turns out, if you spin the World around a little, it lands in Perfect Balance: right in the middle of Love, Trust, and Commitment. It’s a good idea to draw it coin-sized too, so it doesn’t look so big. That way, people you really really love and miss and wish could be here, will look at it and think “oh, Point A is so close to us here at Point B, there’s a dotted red line right to it”. And Voila! You will have yourself a grand extravaganza, with people coming from far away lands just to ride a bicycle, camp in a tent, and laugh with two pretty ordinary folks

 

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Three Years

June 28th… no, actually – June 29th – marks a special day for me …  Three years ‘on the road’ (an anti-climactic cancelled flight to Thailand delayed me a day). Or at least, Three years since Australia, since Family, since Bubble-o-bills, Milo, and Three Monkeys chai. A few special occasions of relief – Peter once, Mum twice, Dad in San Fran and Sister a whole fabulous 3 months in Barcelona. While floating on Ramble I even got a package full of Milo tins for my birthday. But special treats aside, I’m now into my fourth year away.

Mum and Lil in the Caribbean

Family in San Francisco

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Away from what? I’ve built myself a Home in many places since, I’ve found new Friends, new Communities. I’ve relaxed on beautiful beaches, been to great gigs and slept on many a couch. But… … none of them have been Byron beach, none of them have been Mr Laneous at the Shire with the crew, and none of them have been Mum and Peter’s plush white sofa. I’m slowly losing my accent, gradually warming to the cold, and I’m even saying things like “Sofa”! I’ve learnt to spell like an American, speak like the French and eat like the Dutch.

I didn’t know what I was looking for, when I left in 2008. I didn’t know I’d find True Love,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nomad Bases,

and Bicycle Touring.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I sure as hell couldn’t have guessed I’d be living in a small city in the Mid West, building a northern hemisphere Home. But it’s a good thing I did, since that’s exactly why I left – to explore, to learn, to grow. Now, I have new words, new (old) boots, and a Whole New Family.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But I still dream of mangoes by the kilo, signs that say “Watch for Kangaroos” and especially, I dream of waking up on that plush white Couch, or camping amongst Bottle Trees on Dad’s farm “DeHavilland”.

If I were ever to make plans, I would say: I plan on this being my last year away. I plan on catching the sailing season in February, and riding the trade winds all the way HOME. I plan on Kilometers and Capsicums and 40 degrees Celsius. But plans are for fools. I’ll just wait and see.

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A winter in waiting

Somehow, after three years of regular blogging and almost weekly updates – six months rolled by without a post. I firmly believe it’s better to write poorly than not to write at all… and yet I find myself hesitating, criticising, and eventually denying, any pen to pay process.

Which is a shame, since my new life in the Midwest has proved an opportunity for new thought patterns, critical attitude analysis, and some seriously profound lessons. With very few local friend outlets, I ought to have used this platorm to help sort through feelings.

That’s the way it goes with depression though… the less you do, the lower you get, and then the less you do. I’m really not familiar with depression – it sounds so severe to me. But I suppose being sad for extended periods of time counts. Maybe the language isn’t important.

There is a phenomenon here calld S.A.D. – Seasonal Affective Disorder… a.k.a Sun Absence = Depression. It is definitely real, I learnt that much. But I wouldn’t want to attribute all of my misery to a lack of sunlight and an extremely long winter. True, it did snow last week and I am growing quite tired of feeling cold, like inside bone cold, but there is a lot more to it too.

It’s moving to a new place, any new place. It’s having a partner with a broken leg that won’t seem to heal. It’s being ready for an Australian home then having to wait. It’s integrating into a new family. And each of those have such a huge range of emotions associated with them that putting them all in a line like that seems almost meaningless. The good news is that whatever the block, whatever the dark cloud… it’s clearing. People are slowly moving outside again, friendships are being formed, and I’m gradually learning old lessons about attitude ownership, personal power, individual freedom in relationships.

I still want more from Charlie that he can give me right now, I am still building up trust with his family, and I’m still searching for my mission here in Madison, but the sun has thawed the icy lakes, and maybe the ice in me too. Things are flowing once more. At least i”m writing again. At least i’m touring again. Yep: I am writing this from the road.

Just a little loop – Madison-Chicago-Milwaukee-Madison…  just enough. Bike touring ‘courage’ seems so hard won, and so easily lost – but after a 90 mile day yesterday, in good time and with a smile, I remember -  I can still do it. Tomorrow i’ll bike into Madison, along the same route I took in June. Then, I was introducing myself to Charlie’s town… this time I’ll be coming home. My home.

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Settling Down

Snow collects on the branches of the bare trees, pulling them down towards earth, cars roll slowly over the icy roads and the neighborhood whispers quietly.

I’ve been outside, bare and exposed, for a long time. Sleeping in tents or buses, boats or warehouses, community couches or blow up mats or carpeted floor. Open to life around me, rarely having to design a direction – instead just following in the footsteps of what seems right. Which is to say – I’ve been free. But wandering is a limited freedom. What about food choices? Or the freedom to choose what I’m exposed to? Rambling means the ability to ramble on, but is it ever a chosen destination? I can ride my bike to the next town, but the only real question thereafter is – who do I want to be? Beyond that, I’ve already made the choice to be open, so then I must be with whoever is there, eat what they eat and sleep wherever they don’t.

Now, off the wandering highways, I have new lessons to learn. In a lot of ways, I’ve been closing doors. A sailing trip to Mexico? Nope, settling down. Building and beaches in Hawaii? Nope, I’m settling down. Bike touring New Zealand? Close that door too. And it’s surprisingly liberating. There’s no doubt it takes strength to allow options into your life, to be open to the possibilities – but I’ve found the hardest is in fact in the narrowing down again.  It requires a great power, the power of love for example, to select just one of those choices.

Now I wear pyjamas to bed, drink the same tea every morning and even have a drawer with six (6!) pairs of socks in it. I’ve been given slippers to keep my feet warm, beanies, scarves, gloves and boots – and just built my first snowman!

The weather here, in Madison Wisconsin, is grounding. Snow sticks to every surface and our hearts stick to our homes. It piles up outside our doorways – so we stay indoors. It offers time. Time to eat well, to write, to sew, to read, to learn, to develop. It’s a new found freedom. I can join the co-op and know my farmers. I can begin month long projects and acquire new skills. Especially, I can be myself, with the qualities I’ve found on the road, but simultaneously discover deeper aspects of ‘me’ that only a close community can help me find. We need both worlds I think, the road and the home, to maintain balance – but I sure have a lot of the latter to catch up on. And now, the space to do it.

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Coming Full Circle

I have a vivid memory of the first time I saw the San Juan Islands. In a park, somewhere on the Washington Coast I took photos of a magic sunset, beams of light pointing down to the spattered land masses while my good friend Sarah stood close, both us smiling, calmy content.

When I pedaled down to Washington Park in Anarcortes, three years later on the final day of my bike tour – it was with a leaping heart that I realised: I recognised where I was.

Complex patterns on a map are usually the only reference I have for my surroundings… If I’m familiarising myself with the area, it’s generally on the way out of town. In the Carribean I was comforted by well-known trees and plantlife… now I was soothed by seeing old photos come to life. The pier we dangled our legs from still stood, sturdy as ever, and it may well have been the same fisherman tying up at the dock after another long day.

This syncronicity marked the beginning of a beautiful period. Old threads are pulling together – old friends, old memories, clearing through the cobwebs. My welcome into Vancouver was from a familiar face – James, the first stranger I met on my coast-to-coast, way back in Nyack, New York. Originally from Canada and visiting for the week, he came to escort me off the ferry and, through his brother organised amazing accomodation for my stay in the city. A beginning and an end.

Then I got my oldest friend ever, Ange, like a lung full of fresh air. Her familiar sneezes, her tales about Australia… the tim-tams in her backpack – all such comforting delights! The same city brought me Leon too, the Irishman I cycled with through Ontario who had also just arrived by bike. We ate ice-cream and giggled over coffee, able to pick up where we left off. It was rejuvenating to take a break from the usual 20 questions, all the getting-to-know you fluff.

If ever there was a story that needed an ending, it was Guisepi’s – (freeteaparty.org). We met during my last trip to the States, and frolicked together up and down the coast, falling in love along the way. To credit just one person for igniting my wanderlust would be too simple and too difficult – but there’s no denying Guisepi is partly responsible. He sparked my love of freight trains, he dumpstered my first bin-meal and just generally set an example for low-cost, high-adventure, freedom. I flew home, that time, with a broken heart and a longing to return… it took three years and a lot of other journeys – but finally I made it back.

So hugging him again, after only loose letter and email contact, felt as complete a circle as any. We spent a long time just looking at eachother – waiting for the surreal to become reality. Then it was a full week of endless chatter, sharing all that we have learnt in the absence and inspiring eachother once more. We wrote letters by the lake and rode our bikes over the hills… we made tea every hour, tried Tibetan and Chinese brews and read stories from our books (his on tea, mine on bikes) until the night came to a close.

More serendipity and I found myself a ride to Eugene with Mariah, a Madisonian and someone I felt I knew already. With a reloaded bike I managed 5 days of blissful pedaling down the coast, across the Oregon/California border… until time ran out and I went back to thumbing it.

My Dad and Niece were arriving to San Francisco airport at 10 o’clock Saturday morning. Straight off the highway, I stumbled to the arrivals terminal at 10.20. Dads suspenders, flannel shirt and beat up suitcase were easy to spot and tears came as I hugged him again after almost three years. My sister and her partner Dani flew in from Barcelona later that night, and for the first time in a long time, I went to sleep with family under the same roof.

Burning Man 07, Guisepi and I meet again

Old-school – Burning May 2007

Guisepi my long lost friend :)

I could be writing to YOU

We got a little carried away :)

SWEETEST stamp set EVER

Letter writing day by the lake! So fun, and the sun is out for my journey here!

Hand blending Po Cha, yummy salted creamy buttery Tibetan tea!

Tea makes the world go round!

Guisepi aka the tea man

Owen in the ‘always on tour’ kombi. We met 4 yrs ago at Burning Man…

Ange and her friend Colin, who I met 2 yrs ago in London

Ange sorting burning man costumes!

My route maps layed out :) wooo that was a long ride!

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Madtown and Mothers

I woke up in Chicago on a Tuesday. “Shit. Today’s Tuesday”. I had told Pamela, Charlie’s mum, that I’d be rolling into Madison today. I sent out a quick email, re-set the date for Friday and hoped I hadn’t just blown my chance to ‘impress the parents’.

Pedaling in from Milwaukee was a pleasant ride, rails-to-trails almost the whole way. It made for pretty boring landscape though, just an endless tunnel of trees, perfectly flat, perfectly unremarkable. Still, I overnighted by a beautiful lake, just 30miles out, and it was a clear blue sky that opened itself to me as I cycled in the next day, around 8am. Birds chirped, chipmunks ducked, and rabbits bounced as I meandered along the smooth bike-path leading straight downtown.

My friends had taken to calling Madison “the promised land”, which might give you an idea of how much I anticipated my arrival here. I had dreams of endless crisscrossing bike paths, roads with narrow lanes for cars and twice as wide brightly painted shoulders for cyclists… two wheeled machines piled into the myriad of bike racks, and every spare post, pole, table leg, used to secure a bicycle. Ideas of vegan bakeries on every corner and homegrown hippies jamming next to community gardens. Basically, I saw Madison as a vegan-tourers mecca.

And I wasn’t far off! This place is magic. Within three blocks of where I’m staying is a local diner, a printing co-op, a huge food co-op, an organic local bakery, a vegan coffeehouse, a fair-trade coffee roasting non-profit, an info-shop for all your anarchist information, and a huge local bike shop in a CASTLE! That’s just this one street. Damn! And yep – bikes everywhere!

I found 417 s. Dickinson St pretty easily, it’s just one block away from the “Bicycle Boulevard”. The address had served as my postal point for several months, so was well etched into my mind. Rolling up to it, I noticed Charlie’s ‘World Bike Tour’ flag on the porch and chocked up a little. I prepared myself for two weeks of Charlie memories, Charlie stories, Charlie photos… and wondered how comfortable I would feel in his house, with his mum, and his cat. The back door wasn’t left open, as Pam had promised, so I sat under the pear tree and relaxed the afternoon away. It wasn’t until I’d done a tour of the town, had a tea, said hi to the bike boys, and returned back to the house – that I realised today wasn’t Friday at all… it was Thursday. Shit.

So by now I’m definitely looking like the most disorganised, ditsy, daughter in law ever to have existed – the only consolidation coming from the realisation that I’m truly in the bike touring ‘time doesn’t exist’ mindset. Thankfully it’s a warm hug and a smile anyway when Pam get’s home, and it’s not long before I’m feeling settled and welcome. A pile of packages greets me too… thank you all SO much for the love – the words are all worth their weight in gold. I even got a “welcome to Madison” postcard from Charlie’s mate Day, who became a great ambassador and friend.

Now it’s been almost a fortnight and I feel like one of the family. The motherly love I’ve been given could never be described in print… every need has been met, every part of my body/mind/spirit re-energised for the rest of the road ahead, from repaired shoes to repaired soul. I got to make a trip out to Johanna’s (sister) farm and picked up pieces of info on native herbs, what to eat and what not to eat, while listening to the soothing creek running through the beautiful ‘drift-less’ region. Juno has had it good too – Charlie’s old bike buddy Derek tuned her, lubed her and loved her, and she’s never felt stealthier.

I got a chance to set up a new Lightfoot Sustainable Post box (Madison would be lost without one!) at Mother Fools, the vegan coffee house. John, one of the owners, has been so enthusiastic and into the project, I can already see the letters flying in.

Lightfoot Box Madison!

And now it’s time to pedal out. I’ve had a 23rd birthday, rested and recuperated, and am ready for the Bicycle Film Festival and Josh Ritter gig in Minneapolis. As itchy as I am for the open road, it’s going to be a hard town to leave. In a lot of ways I feel closer to Charlie here, his history and memories is in a lot of the landscape. It’s a reminder too though of the distance between us, and I’m looking forward to centering myself again, to becoming more present. Hopefully this time I can keep track of the days though! Adios!

Alan, a fellow bike tourer i met on the trail. Picking mulberries!

My camp before Madison. Right off the bike trail, and by a lake!

Yep, i’m happy! Almost there!

But a little tired too!

Breakfast preperation

Ready to eat!

Charlie’s sister, Johanna, is a herbalist… yummy cammomile!

A hot humid day in the garden

Johanna and Raven sorting the weeds from the weeds

Charlie on the fridge

waiting for someone?

Heading out… bye home.

Plenty more corn. Its growing with me as I ride west!

Charley THREE, the dad! An amazing photographer.

Jim built AND designed this house, a Frank Lloyd Wright architect.

Solar warming

Charley Dad at work

Unloaded again for a couple of days

I met the Social Forum Bicycle Carivan (going from Madison to Detroit) on the trail... and they wrote me letters to deliver!

Drop and write! Lightfoot in action!

And some photo’s from Charley III:

A photo of a photo, muckin' around with Charley

An awesome interview with Jim. He and Maxine did a bike tour in 1950 on a 3 speed!

Hitting the road again. There is a photo of Charlie fully loaded, leaving from this exact spot. Weird.

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A song.

These cities are distractions, reactions to my heart’s fractions. Security breeds obscurity and options become complications. Communications… don’t help. I only miss you more. And this is a safe haven for restlessness, a comfort that i can’t express. It’s a fridge full of food and it’s a bed on the floor. But it’s your home, it’s your door. And i’m not sure… I wanna make it mine. I’m not sure at all… I’m walking down a hollow hall, and every door is open. The choices are winding roads and lightning bolts. They’re fires burning and constant wheels turning. They’re sailing ships or co-op memberships. They’re Panama, or Canada… Moving on or Moving back. They’re you… or not. They’re thundering technicalities and meaningless menialities… sleepless and complex and hopeless.

Just release, rejoice… and pedal. Juno take me home, ride with me alone, keep a steady pace, I’m looking for a familiar face.

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Pedaling with Lightfoot

“This last of the old-world means of communication, before mechanical contraptions took over, left a deep mark on the American imagination. The riders, going far on little, became touchstones of courage and strength.” William Least Heat Moon on The Pony Express.

Juno is my trusty stead. I’ve got a plaid shirt, but I need a cowboy hat. I’ve set up two boxes so far – One in NewYorkCity, Williamsburg Brooklyn, and one in Toronto, Canada. Lots more to come hopefully. I’ve been collecting letters amongst the pedal strokes… and have made a map of where I need to deliver them (lest i forget!). It’s up to 16 so far. A few to deliver in Madison, to lighten my load, but surely a few more gained.

Some people ride for charity, some people ride for a mission… I’m riding for Lightfoot. I believe letters can change the world, the written word can carry love and truth so far and so freely. Lightfoot Sustainable Post connects communities and fosters trust. I’m taking this opportunity to spread that message and I’m excited I get to be the facilitator and vessel for such an important revolution! Get writing guys, I’ll pedal anywhere for a lightfoot letter!

http://www.sustainablepost.org

Building the box in Toronto at "Sketch" an open community space with tools, supplies, everything!

Juno and the new box. The dumpstered bananas aren't for the post.

She's getting decorated soon, but already the letters were filling up...

New York City Lightfoot Box!

Lightfoot Box Madison!

Mother of Fools Coffee House! An awesome Lightfoot space!

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