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!

the seedling

 the seedling

By Bill Poindexter

 A story inspired by Iohan, the bike wanderer and a man with kind dark eyes.

 

Far away, long ago, there was a man who traveled the Earth on his bicycle and his name was, Iohan. He was of average height, had dark hair and dark eyes that looked very kind. All he wanted to do was explore the Earth and see what it was like from atop a bike.

 To earn a living he took odd jobs, one of the jobs was planting trees in an area where old trees had been cut down.  He said he enjoyed planting trees in the summer. He would walk all over Canada planting seedlings to fund his bicycling adventures. One of the seedlings grew into a fine very tall tree.

 The young tree grew and grew. Enjoying the fresh mountain air in which it lived, loving the mild summers, colorful autumns, fresh new springs and even its harsh cold winters when it mostly slept. Even relished playing with the wind, feeling the sun, and drinking the life giving rains, and it never felt alone as there were many birds and insects, and squirrels which made their home on the tree. The tree was very happy.

 One day the tree was cut down and was sad and scared. But the tree had a soul that was spread throughout its trunk, limbs, branches, roots and the tree, no matter where it was, always had a connection to the Earth for the tree had roots underground into the soul of the Earth and the tree would always be a part of the Earth, forever.

 The tree was turned into many things: paper and pencils for school children, comfortable chairs, a table or two, a park bench, and finally some paper that was placed into blank journals. It liked the park bench best because it felt loved as people would sit and talk on it and eat their lunches, children would climb all over it, pets slept next to it, and sometimes at night someone might even sleep on it. All was wonderful.

 But the tree had no water since it was not in the ground and it became old and brittle and there was a crack in one of its legs. One day it was removed from the park and placed in a small shed. The tree became very lonely for there was no one around besides the spiders and their webs, and the sparrows that lived in the rafters and the mice that lived underneath the floor.

 One day the door to the shed opened and an old man, with gray hair and a beard came in and sat on the bench that was the tree. The tree was happy. The man slowly ran his hand all over the tree to see if there were any breaks in the legs as the tree had been without water, except from rain for many years.  The tree felt the touch of the man and remembered the side of the mountain from which it came, and the man, Iohan, who planted the seedling, who was now the tree.

 “Hello my old friend!” The old man with kind eyes said with a soft gentle voice.

  “I am glad you are here. I will fix your leg and replenish your wood with some natural oils from the Earth so as to give you strength.”

 The old man and the tree worked together over the next week. Every day the man would come by in the evening and sand off the old stain, fix the break, and apply the new coats of refreshing oils for the tree. The tree was very happy and felt loved.

 The tree, one day, was taken to the mans cabin, on the side of a mountain, and placed on the front porch. It was a good place to go as now the tree was in the woods again; with clean air, other trees, and all sorts of critters to watch as it sat on the porch.

 Over the years the tree grew to love the cabin and the old man, with kind eyes, who gave it a life again. It had been so lonely in the shed, unwanted, rotting away. But now the tree was happy again.

 Everyday the man would ride his bicycle to town and every night he would ride his bicycle home. But one day he did not come home. He was an old man, and old men die. The man had been very kind to the tree, the tree was sad.

  Then the tree had a new friend who bought the cabin. The new owner, a young woman, a writer, whom, everyday sat on the tree, on the front porch and wrote stories about what she could see from the porch and then would read the stories aloud, to see how they sounded and would rewrite them over and over, then read aloud until she was satisfied. The tree liked the stories and was very happy again.

 One day the woman brought out a dusty old box which had been the old mans, and on top of the box there was a note:

 “These are blank journals which came from a tree I planted many years ago when I was a young man. I followed the life of the tree and was there when the tree was cut down and the wood harvested. Some of it was made into paper- these journals here and a bench, the same bench on my front porch of my cabin on the side of a mountain, the same mountain I planted the seedling on that became the tree. If you find these please write about what you see for the tree energy is the bench and on the pages and the tree will take you back to the Earth if you are lost, its energy, and mine will always be alive.”

 Time moved on and the tree and woman enjoyed their time together. But as with all things, change came about and the woman grew old. But the tree is still there on the porch.

 I write this, from paper, on one of the journals Iohan had saved. It was in a box I found that was my mothers, who had lived on the side of a mountain, and who was a writer, who sat on a bench, that was once a seedling, planted by a young man with dark hair and kind dark eyes named Iohan whom traveled the world by bicycle until he satisfied his wanderlust and just wanted to sit on the porch and feel the good Earth and be with the tree, his friend, the seedling.

The Whole Earth Guide

There is a story here. It started 60 years ago, the summer of 1963, on a beach, on an island. My mom was swimming off Squibnocket Beach in the town of Chilmark, Massachusetts on the island of Martha's Vineyard. I was still in the womb and would not be born until November 27th, just a few days after President John F. Kennedy was assassinated. The assassination was that act of terror that most likely forced my birth into a troubled extraordinary world and set me on paths of great suffering, physically and mentally ( depression, anxiety attacks, was beaten severely at military school at the age of 14, self destructive behavior causing to weigh over 430 pounds twenty years ago, there is more), but I learned to look at each life challenge as a temporary obstacle and a new "mountain" to climb thereby invoking paths of extreme adventure and compassion. So, the story begins...

Earth Rise (Nasa)

Hi, my name is Bill Poindexter, I am many things; a writer, speaker, author, coach, career counselor, adventurer on foot and by bicycle, outdoor educator, naturalist, minimalist, yoga instructor, environmentalist, and the creator of the Whole Earth Guide (WEG). I have been many things, but always saw the Earth as fragile, and now feel the need to help save our home (Earth).

The Whole Earth Guide is a series of guides with an ever evolving role to create a world peace where the health of: people, the environment, and communities is paramount. This is being created as you read this by a cooperative group of like minded Whole Earth Guides.

Original brainstorming sheet '18

The WEGs will be in the form of books, articles, podcasts, blog posts, live feeds, FB post, instagram images, letters (on paper), and stories by humans like you and me. I am starting the first step, telling the story, mission and vision. The organization is a not for profit, but we will not be tied to any government. This is for the Earth, the Whole Earth. We see one Earth, but for it to survive we all must get along and create a World Peace, there are no more choices, certain things must change in order for the planet to survive, our home.

These guides are inspired by the Whole Earth Catalog, by Stewart Brand

Bill Poindexter,  Banff Nation Park, photo by Sarah Burch

The first phase is two publish two guides in the next few weeks, as I am authoring both, They will be about what I know best, how to travel by bicycle and sharing inspiring stories and adventures from my travels like:

Sage and Pine

"How to find a place to sleep while traveling on the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route (GDMBR)

What “they” don’t tell you in the Guidebooks.

Jack, Anna, Bahne, and myself had come off a long climb from Pinedale, WY, heading north. We were a day away from Grand Teton National Park. At the bottom of Union Pass, we stopped at a lodge for the usual GDMBR fare of burgers, fries, and beer. I noticed a couple and an older woman. The older woman stared at our disheveled group, but being a vagabond and wanderer, I was used to the stares, as we were a live

story.

After we ate, I walked outside to gather water bottles for refills. The couple and older woman followed me out.

They smiled. “Where are you traveling from?” the man asked with kind eyes.

“New Mexico,” I said and explained the route to them. "We are bicycling, self-contained, from New Mexico along the Continental Divide, on dirt roads and trails, to Banff, Alberta, Canada. The four of us met on the road, and we’re traveling together for a few days."

“Where do you sleep,” the woman asked, as though somehow searching for her past.

“Any place,” I say simply. “On the side of the road, in a shelter, bathroom, campground, back of a restaurant, lawns, people invite us into their home, but really, when the sun starts to set any patch of earth will do.”

Their eyes widened, and they looked at each other and nodded in complete understanding.

“Where will you sleep tonight?” the woman asked.

“Dunno,” I said smiling. “There is a campground a few miles up the road, or we may just keep moving till we find something and head into the woods. Something will present itself; it always does.”

The couple thanked me for telling them about our travels.

I walked back in the restaurant and told my companions what happened. Seconds later the man came back in and said, “My wife says you all can stay in our cabin tonight.”

We graciously agreed, and, 30 minutes later, we were at the cabin. Jerry and Anna, and Anna’s mother, hosted us for the night.

Full-blooded Arapaho, Jerry later that night confided in me that he longed for the “old ways” of his people.

He said, “The way you are traveling on your bicycles, with your gear, free on the land, was the way my ancestors traveled on horseback or foot. I am envious.” He gave me a serious look, “You will always be welcomed here.”

That night I slept deeply. Embraced by kindness, present and past. That’s the Wild West; that is the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route.

The next morning, we rose to coffee, a view from the balcony, and good food. We took pictures of our new friends and us, then we rode.

Side note: While on the Divide three Native Tribes, the Pueblo, Apache, and Arapaho, showed me incredible hospitality. I came to the West to see how the past and present meshed with smells of sage and pine."

Sage and Pine is one of hundreds of stories I have. 

I wish I could tell you all how this idea will play out, but truthfully, I do not know. I never know. I just follow my gut and let every day unravel, and see what happens. Oh there is some planning, but mostly I am curious to see how this story unfolds.

Next?

Whole Earth Bikepacking Summit-ever rolling, continuous, think of a bunch of curious, environmentally friendly, compassionate, healthy, Earth loving, World Peace optimists, cycling together and creating real change in a troubled world. 


I will be sharing stories from the road. Stories about the people with us and the ones we meet,  environmental conditions of the places we travel and the patches of dirt we sleep on, and we will share the commonalities of humanity with communities we pass through, and will seek out nature and the wilderness on many different levels, and we will ask questions, seek solutions to issues, and travel by bicycle to show a simple way to live. Can't make it? You can still be a part of it. This is grassroots. 

Grassroots movements and organizations use collective action from the local level to effect change at the local, regional, national, or international level.

If you are interested in following this "live" journalistic endeavor please let me know.
We could use your help financially, you can Venmo me, or will put a paypal link for you to click, and open to cash if you meet me on the road. The money is to help support the mission so we can tell the stories that need to be told, without condition:

Mission: To inspire good health: for people, the Earth, and community. And ultimately help create World Peace so the Earth can survive. 

There will be links coming as we evolve to our You Tube Channel as well.

How will it unfold?
Good question

If you would like me to speak to your organization about our focus, or teach how to: travel by bike, wilderness ethics, living car-free, tell stories of my adventures, or even teach a simple Yoga class, please let me know asap.

Things we need? Marketing folk, administrative and operational help, money, food, like minded folks who wanna make the Earth a better, livable, healthier home.

Hope to see you soon. 
Bill


Get your Whole Earth Guide here