Quitting wasn’t all that hard. There were too many obstacles I did not want to confront. My planning was not adequate. I may have carried too much and distributed improperly. Once I admitted that it was easier to see that I was likely to encounter more of the same and breaking down where there was not a bike shop wasn’t something I wanted to face yet. The only thing I can be sure of in the future is I am more than physically capable of the ride. I wasn't the weak link.
Riding a loaded touring bike isn’t just about how it rides and whether you can make it up hills. Eating each evening did not require having a stove and fuel and dried food. Using a tent was easy enough, but there were many things I did not consider, like the nastiness of some commercial sites. Had I not been the only tenter at one location I might have had even greater difficulties when I determined that the “restroom” door could not be closed if I used it. Standing or sitting! Certainly not a game breaker under the circumstances of that evening, but worth knowing and considering next time.
The next time (yes, there will be a next time) I will carry at least 950 miles of knowledge. Not a lifetime, but a good foundation. Local trips will add to the database. Knowing what should go where to avoid overloading is something that I guess comes with experience, too.
The next months will be filled with contemplation and new planning. That’s the only certainty.
OK, there is one more certainty. No more Greyhound rides. My bus ride day began at 6 am and ended at 430 pm the following day. Three buses and untotaled miles. That story deserves a whole page to itself. For now, thanks for caring and following and encouraging. Now it is time to decide how next to handle someone my age.