Dispatches from the road by Bill Poindexter

 Dispatches from the road, but Bill Poindexter

Jamaican Dave 

Hi, like you, have a favorite grocery store. And in my grocery store, there is a man in the meat department , and his name is Jamaican, Dave, well, it’s just Dave but he’s from Jamaica so he’s known as Jamaican Dave. I love that. He’s 54 years old, a black man , and one of the nicest people I ever met in my life. I see him periodically, and we always have a nice chat, and he knows I don’t make a lot of money so he’ll occasionally tell me that just pick up whatever kind of meat you want and bring it over to me and I’ll give you a good discount. Humanity is alive and well. So tonight I went into the grocery store and I hadn’t been there for a while. He asked me -where I’ve been, but then said something about that since I ride my bicycle to the store that maybe it’s just been too cold. He was right. And I decided to take a break from the bicycle for the last couple of weeks for a couple of reasons one is it’s been very cold, snowy, icy. Lots of snow and ice on the ground and I just needed a break. Secondly, I’ve been riding my bicycle every day to work or for errands, for the last two years I would say probably every day. Anywhere from 10 to 30 miles a day. And my body just need a little break. I’ve had an injury that I got when I was working at Trader Joe’s last year on my left quadricep, but still hasn’t healed. At least not fully. So it’s good. It was good to take care of the weeks off. And do a little walking instead. Although I don’t think the walking helped it much. Anyway, Jamaican Dave and I had a good conversation day for about 10 minutes, we talked about me, riding my bicycle for transportation, and how he loved, riding his bicycle for exercise in the warmer weather. And we talked about people and humanity and somehow the conversation came around, traveling to different places and meeting people and that honestly most people are the same they’re good people they just want the same things, food, shelter, clothing, education for their kids, good health and a decent job with a decent wage. And that even with all the weirdness in the world, he still watches TV because he likes watching sports and if he watches the news, he discerns that there is news that is right and there’s news that is wrong and he’s able to through common sense figure out which is which. Very optimistic man in a world gone awry. I guess it comes down to the fact that no matter how crazy the world seems but there’s a lot of good people out there. And that is something to be celebrated. Thanks Jamaican Dave for your insight. I needed it.

Before a journey

 Before a long journey on my bicycle

A 3am rant from a adventure cyclist 

By Bill Poindexter 

I am always amazed by the fears that swell up before one of my expeditions. I become plagued by doubt and guilt-old friends. Questions like “is this a good decision” slap me hard, sort of an ongoing self check with a cacophony of the typical excuses: am I fit, enough money, work, my cats will miss me, what if’s rise like smoke and then everything starts to settle like leaves falling to the ground. It’s really my own fault, I don’t like to plan too much, I hate using gps, a vague map and directions from locals is really more my suit. “Where you going?” they, the curious, ask. “Northeast.” Is all I can return. I have always been that way as I have a strong intuitive understanding of direction and can figure where I am from the stars or moon or sun and if I get lost well, that’s a bonus because then fear will come out and play-we are dear old friends. 

My affairs are in order just in case. I say my good byes as though they are permanent just in case. I walk out my front door with my overloaded bike with 2-3 weeks worth of food so as to save money. Never been a saver, this trip is the bare bones I have ever done, I feel like a hobo getting ready to hop a train, this trip going to have to be creative and place myself in the hands of Humanity because I am one of the naive who believes in the goodness of the regular people and I need their help and I want to know their thoughts about what really matters in life, and right now in this time. I will be happy for stale bread and yesterday’s coffee. The universe is a big place and I am going to fling myself into it one mile at a time and learn what it has to offer and then know my self a little better. “But you have so much experience Bill, why is it hard for you?” I don’t really know, I am just human. I am not afraid of the  dangers of cycling on roads, or wild life, or weather, illness, bandits, camping alone, or being solo and broke. I guess the real fear comes from the long days on the bike, and delving into my own mind and seeing the bad and good and facing my truth head on-That terrifies me. But, my friend, this journey, more than any other will be the Hardest. There is no insurances, no money cushion, it is early spring along the final cusp of winter, and I still have my physical injuries;a fib, sciatica, bursitis, and more with the age of 60… Jesus how did that happen? I plan to take a few days to do a Vision Quest-a 3 day fast somewhere no one is around 

and most likely in a forest. It’s a time for past present and future to meet and figure my place in the universe…”Here lies the dead body of Billy P, better it be him and not me!” No, I should be fine. I love nature and most happy when sleeping on a patch of ground. I haven’t decided if I will tell this next story while I roll or wait until after. The story will be good. 

Dispatches from the road: alone

Dispatches from the Road by Bill Poindexter

Alone 

There’s something very romantic about traveling solo

by bicycle and being self-contained: carrying my camping equipment, tools, clothes, food and water. I guess you could say I’m more of an old school bicycle traveler as I don’t carry a bicycle computer, I prefer a map and compass, sense of direction intuitiveness and common sense. I anticipate certain dangers, and therefore know how to self rescue-as I don’t put anybody else in danger. I do like to travel alone. But I can’t say I’ve ever been really alone, like a solo sailor in the middle of the ocean, or maybe like one of those people that do solo Arctic trips, or may be like adventures of the past who would head into the jungles by themselves, or across the desert, or live in a cabin in Siberia in winter with no one around them. And I wonder what that alone is. But with that I will say that on many of my trips I’ve been alone. I’ve slept in areas where there was nobody around for miles. I think the farthest I’ve ever been from a town was just over 100 miles not to say there probably wasn’t somebody living closer than that and definitely a road near were the one I was on. But traveling alone is relative to where you are and what your situation is. I’ve been on roads where I saw no other sign of life for a day and a half and at some point, I pulled off into a field or a forest and laid my bedding down and fitfully slept under the stars. No anxiety just me in the universe. But traveling solo scares me I’m not scared of the wilderness or of people or wildlife. I’m scared of those dark caverns inside my head those locked up thoughts of doubt, guilt, regret, self loathing, memories of things I wish would just stay locked up, and that I could forget forever. That’s what I fear. Even though I can distract myself with singing a song or making up a story in my head. Just being in the moment and appreciating that I’m alive and able to do what I do which is travel extraordinary distances by bicycle. And occasionally sometimes Fear has a way of creating stress and anxiety, and sometimes that can manifest itself into physical issues like, erratic heartbeat, an anxiety attack, nausea, diarrhea, neck, pain, vertigo, I fear those physical attributes as just an inconvenience and with proper self-care… Usually a few deep breaths, and a little bit of time, maybe some water and food and rest those issues will pass, but it’s being on the road mile after mile sometimes for me up to 100 miles a day maybe a little bit more but most days is 40 to 60 that’s enough. And it’s that self talk self encouragement and if really alone it’s just saying to myself “what’s the worst that can happen“ I guess just dropping dead? But typically my friend when I’m on the road and I’m solo I’m alone but I’m not lonely. I marvel at the earth around me and my bicycle rolling over a crunchy gravel road and animals and all the nature. Things, “visions” show themselves while traveling solo, especially when you’re on the loneliest part of the road, and you start to drift into another plane/Universe/dimension. It’s like that moment between being awake and sleep you get into that Zen zone and it’s almost like you’re flying, or leaving your body. People pay good money to have those experiences doing things like LSD, or Ayahuasca, or mushrooms, but I do that by traveling long distances on my bicycle. And at the end of the day I pull off somewhere, lay my bedding down eat some food, make a hot drink, slip into my sleeping bag, fully content, knowing that everything I need at that moment is with me, and no matter what happens I’m gonna be OK, and I drift off to the stars, maybe the sounds of critters, and the smells that are around me like-sage, pine, arid desert smell, and my eyes slowly become heavy and hard to open, and I fall asleep, with a heavy sleep. I wake in the middle of the night periodically, because sleeping out under the stars is different than sleeping in a confined space and I where can I look at the stars in listen to the wind or to the stillness maybe a beetle walking past me, ignoring the  little being perhaps the hum of a mosquito, looking for supper, and I fall back asleep content that I am at home on my planet as insignificant as I am, I feel at that moment like I’m part of everything all at once. And I wake up first light a bluish hue that turns into a golden hue, and then the sounds of the life become prevalent. And I get up and I pack my gear up and I roll-on alone alone into the solo wilderness. Thanking god for my short existence.

Thank you for reading my writing. I appreciate you and I hope you’re well. If you like my writings, let me know in the comments below. 

Support this journalistic endeavor: I am working on expanding my writings, into podcast, and videos on my YouTube channel 

Thanks to Elizabeth for helping Steve and Robert as well. And then many of you who bought me a cup of coffee and a sandwich on my last journeys, I’m grateful. I feel this is my destiny and I’m glad you’re along for the ride.

Peace and love, Bill

Feel free to email me at poindexterrecruiting@gmail.com

About Bill Poindexter, author, adventurer, philosopher 

Although Bill has been writing his whole life, he has in the last 23 years made a name for himself, writing about his lifestyle, living without a car, bicycling and walking every year for transportation and then also traveling by bicycle to various locations and writing about his experiences on the road experiences with food, culture, his own fears, the people he meets along the road, and what he observes in the world, in terms of nature and humanity. Bills has had an extraordinary life living life on his own terms for the betterment of humanity. The planet to Bill is pretty important too. Bill speaks the truth, no matter what the outcome.

Dispatches through Time in space

Dispatches 

 by Bill Poindexter

January 5, 2024 2:59 AM

Time and space 

Dear friend, 

Hard to believe another year gone by. I wanted to thank you for reading my words. I don’t expect you to read them all the time when I send out dispatches out or rants.

 I appreciate you reading my words as that in itself entrenches my writing desires. The older I get, and I’m 60 now, I realize that I’ve always been a writer/story teller. Today I was re-reading some of my dispatches from my bicycle tour from Kansas City to Yorktown Virginia via the transamerica Trail as I am organizing, a book about that experience. The dispatch amused me and brought back some fun memories. 

I’m laying here in bed, holding the phone in my right hand dictating this I’m laying on my right side Coyote my oldest cat I think she’s around 15 or 16 now the black-and-white one you’ve probably seen pictures of her she’s tucked into my right side up against my chest and draped over my right arm holding the phone and my left arm is wrapped around her. A cold night outside, the weather’s been a little strange it’s been kind of a wet cold without the rain or snow but every morning there’s a lot of frost out there and when I go out to feed the squirrels, stray cats and the birds, I can feel it in my bones. I woke up many a morning on the bicycle tour with that wet cold feeling. 

 I generally would wake up between two and four, doing some writing like this, or in my journals with my pencils. If I hand write, I like writing with the pencil, there’s  something about a pencil in the way it feels on a piece of paper that I like and I prefer writing in a journal blank pages versus one that has lines on its paper.

I’ve never been one to be organized in a traditional sense -organization to me is having the lot on the table in full view so I know where everything is to me that’s order to other people it’s called clutter. 

I also have a cup of hot, tapwater coffee, freeze dried maxwell house I think it is. And this coffee always sends me back to military school as a 14 year old boy. It was a rough time for me, being alone, becoming a man I’m sure you know the story of me getting hazed that first couple of months I was there. I’ve written about it a few times, but as I got used to the school there I would wake up in the middle of the night as well, the time from bedtime around 1030 to 620 was my time I relished and like now I would get up in the middle of the night and write at my desk looking outside the window listening to the woods and words, sparking my imagination, and even then I would go down to the bathroom to pee, and get some hot water from the tap and come back up and make myself a cup of coffee with freeze dried coffee, if I had it. And like I said, I would either write, or just think, or maybe read a story, and at that time I would read stories of ghosts in haunted houses or stories of great white hunters in Africa and their adventures, or stories of explorers. Military school had a good library not in the amount of volumes, but the way it was set up and that it was easy to find books and it wasn’t a large selection, I mostly would skip the card catalog, then walk down  the dusty  isles reading the titles until something interesting pulled me in. Many of the books had that old smell to them and had not been checked out for decades, at least the books I wanted to read. I liked that very much as I felt the books were in hibernation and waiting for someone like me to come wake them up. It wasn’t like cheap books of today the fall apart easily. These were books with proper bindings and thick paper the kind they were made to last a long time.

That was back in 1979 along time ago. 

One thing I learned in military school was how valuable my time is as the school was very structured so almost every hour of my day was taken up with something, so my free time was between 1030pm and 620 in the morning.  And every morning when I woke up, I would usually dread the day not that I would be scared of it, but that I would dread the structure of the school, the mundane, the ridiculous, the classes bored me, the food was awful, but I knew I just had to get through it. All I have to do is make it until bedtime and then I have my time. I still think that way whether I have a job or or just riding out a normal day. 

One of things about being on a bicycle tour is, as long as one is solo, every day is your day, and there is a strong inner voice of introspection during the long distance cycling when you’re bicycling from an hour or two after waking up until late in the afternoon or possibly sunset. And for me once I’ve set up camp, and had my supper, then I get into my sleeping bag with my journal next to me looking out at whatever I can see in my surroundings in the dark and usually angled so I could see the sky and the stars if they were out and I would be reminded in my safe little home, the tent or the piece of ground I was laying on as sometimes it would just be me on a patch of dirt with a ground pad and my sleeping bag waiting for sleep to come and remembering my day then it starts to transcend it is just me, the earth, and the universe at that moment in time and space on that patch of dirt, or in this bed, or at that military school in that bed, or at the writing desk, being aware of the past, present and future, not being afraid but embracing life. To be clear, actually, more clear it’s that feeling you have when you are outside looking up at the stars and you feel small, but yet somehow are attached to everything. And everything is as it should be.

Thank you for reading my words. 

I hope you’re doing well. It’s been along time since I’ve talk to you. Drop me a note and let me know how things are going and if you’re in the area, let me know. You’re up for a cuppa coffee and a chat. And I’ll share wonderful things with you. 

Peace and love, 

Bill Poindexter.

If you’re interested in supporting this endeavor, I am also trying to raise money for my next expedition, which I’ll be talking about an upcoming post please consider buying me a cup of coffee and a sandwich. You can find me on https://venmo.com/code?user_id=2935349168832512847

thank you!